#something that depicts how severe it is on the outside would make for something more jarring when comparing the life on the inside to it

[beansricejc]

Returning the Favor - John Wick x F!Reader

⚠️warnings: DUBCON, smut, piv, facial, pressured intimacy, implied abuse (not John), graphic depictions of violence, cursing, alcohol, blackmail, noncon pictures, no use of y/n!, 3716 words.

a/n: it’s me again, back with something I’ve been cooking for a few days. life is wild rn but I hope u all enjoy!

summary: John does a hit for you, at no cost, and now he wants something in return. it’s only fair, right?

John remembers your little face. The way your eyebrows furrowed at his insistence of doing this job free of charge. The split skin on your lip and the bruising on your cheek and wrists, he can picture it clearly.

He pictured you walking up to him in the alley outside of the Continental, where a friend of yours told you he would be.

He recalled the way you asked about his services.

“Who do you need gone?” he had asked, as you handed him a manilla envelope. That’s when he noticed the blue and yellow pattern that littered your skin when you reached your hand out to him to give him the paperwork.

“My fiancé.” you stammered out of those damaged lips of yours. “He’s the chief of police, and I’ve tried getting away, getting protection orders, but he’s able to just get rid of anything I do.” you elaborated.

John’s eyebrows raised at the sound of that. He added the context clues together and immediately understood, especially after seeing your bruises. John assumed you weren’t a kickboxer in your spare time.

He’s still able to admire your delicate features, despite the fact you’re not trying exactly to look pretty. He can still tell that you have gorgeous eyes and long lashes, a nice haircut that frames your well shaped face to perfection. Your skin is smooth and clear, and your body? Even though you’re in a cropped hoodie, you do have leggings on.

Oh leggings. Truly underrated in all aspects. The way the cloth clings to your body, shaping around your hips, thighs, and ass.

Truly beautiful. He can tell.

Maybe he could use this to his advantage? Not necessarily the most morally correct way to get a woman, but it could do the trick.

And use he did. He would use it to his advantage, in a simple and innocent move.

“I’ll do it. No charge.” John replied to you, you’re taken aback by the sudden generosity from him, you’re so shaken by the entire situation you don’t even notice his eyes trailing your entire figure and checking you out.

“Really? No, I can’t let you,” you insist, handing him a duffel bag full of 5 figures of cold hard cash, but he simply refuses it.

“We can discuss it later…” John says, shaking his head and outright not taking the bag. “Keep your money. Please.”

-

He’s thinking of this encounter as his blade thrusts into your fiance’s throat, finally getting the winning blow after their quite large altercation. As a police captain, your fiancé knew how to hold his own in a fight quite well.

Not well enough apparently.

Your fiancé gurgles as John shoves him against his bed, the blade destroying his vocal chords and windpipe. John makes one swift movement with his wrist, and the blade rips out of his flesh, separating several tendons. The severed arteries cause blood to squirt onto John’s neck and face.

“No one likes a woman beater.” John clicked his tongue at the dying police officer, who crumpled to the floor, blood pooling from his lethal wound and onto the carpet. A bubbling sound echoes from his mouth, the red liquid dribbling from his lips, and in a few more moments, his eyes are drained of any life that was left in them.

John rolled his own eyes and quickly did his best to destroy the good condition of the condo, making it seem like a robbery gone wrong. He grabbed a few things that looked of value, including a few expensive watches and some impressive Japanese chef knives, and went on his way.

-

You had stayed at your friend’s house in the meantime. Anxiety spiked through your chest, hoping everything was going to plan. You honestly weren’t able to take it anymore, your fiancé had really outdid himself this time. You had gone out with your girlfriends for some drinks on Saturday night, he didn’t appreciate you not sharing your location with him. So the obvious reaction? To beat the absolute piss out of you. You were wearing a sweater in 70 degree weather because of the purple and blue marks that littered your skin, including on your arms, abdomen, and back.

You had enough. Clearly enough to save up money doing side gigs without him knowing and saving enough to pay for a hitman that a friend of a friend told you about. You’re playing something with your friend on her Nintendo Switch as you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

You frantically grab the device, opening it to find a text from an unknown number.

It’s done. Meet me at the Continental’s bar.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. That could only mean one thing. The job was finished.

He was finally dead.

Sighing in relief, your friend raised her eyebrows and turned to you.

“You good?” she asked.

“Huh?” You say out of the blue, shaking yourself out of your solace. “Yeah. Never better.” you force a smile.

-

John waited for you at the bar, he had changed and showered, washing the blood that had gotten on him from his little altercation with your now ex. The atmosphere is the typical Continental’s vibe, comfortable, upscale. He’s waiting for you at a small table with an open bottle of champagne. John hadn’t been able to get your cute face and nice figure off of his mind since he met you the other day. The day when he said to not worry about paying him.

Well, today he’d discuss another form of payment he was interested in. A favor for a favor one would say. A body for a body.

He wanted you.

His eyes trail up towards you who just arrived, wearing a simple yet oh so flattering outfit, your eyes are glued to your cell phone while you walk in.

John cleared his throat and shot you a little wave of his hand, catching your attention. Your beautiful eyes widen, and you smile at him, slipping your phone into the purse slung over your shoulder as you make your way over to his table. John couldn’t help but check your entire body out. Your face, legs, tits, even the way your hips swayed a bit while you walked made him just want to take a bite out of them.

God, you looked delicious.

Sitting down, you smiled at John.

“Hey, how are you?” you asked him, attempting to disguise the fact that you’re freaking out. Several emotions have been pumping in and out of your brain, you don’t know how to exactly feel. Grief? Safe? Relief? Distress?

Especially in front of the man that solved your biggest issue in your life within a manner of minutes. How do you present yourself in front of him? More importantly, how are you going to possibly defend yourself to the police?

Only time will tell.

John sighs, you sit down. He begins to speak as he pours your light, bubbly glass of alcohol.

“Not too bad, actually.” John answered your initial greeting. “More importantly, how are you, my dear?” John boomerangs your question. Your heartbeat accelerated and you set your purse in your lap.

“Complicated. I’ll figure it out later.” is what you manage to come up with, biting the inside flesh of your mouth, your delicate fingers are silently tinkering with the zipper pull of your purse that sits just under the table. Of course he asked that. This is what he does for a living, he doesn’t think twice about the act.

The two of you engage in small talk, and it’s surprisingly refreshing. John has a lovely smile for a killer, with his nicely maintained dark scruff outlining his cheeks and jaw whenever he chuckles at a quip of yours. His brown eyes are always in a narrowed position but they seem to always glow towards you, never taking them off of your face for a moment.

You don’t know it at first, of course you don't. John’s a professional. He's deliberate in every breath, every shift of his body, in such a way that could only be described as masterful.

You don’t notice him until he has taken forty-five minutes to inch closer to you in his chair, shifting every so often to eventually, be brushing up against your delicate frame, arm to arm.

By now you’re on your third glass of champagne, you simply didn’t want to think about any of your problems, to just enjoy your time with this man that simply did you a favor.

Right?

“I’d like to request something of you.” John suddenly says in the middle of a conversation about your hometown. He’s been awfully interested in different topics about your life, you haven’t even thought twice about it. “I can’t tarnish my reputation with the fact that I did a job, free of charge.” John states, his head tilted directly down at little ol’ you, who’s currently sipping your drink.

Your heart drops to your gut while you swallow.

“…that’s fine. I still have the mon-“

“I don’t want the money. It’s not important to me.” John interjected, with his hand suddenly resting on your soft upper thigh, the feeling of his long fingers squeezing the limb almost making you jump from your seat.

The way his thin brown eyes are gazing over you and your figure, it would have sent most people into cardiac arrest. You put two and two together, holding your breath as you maintain eye contact.

“I see.” were the words you whispered while he gave you a soft and endearing smile.

But those eyes? Those eyes were cold. The pair of his told you things you couldn’t imagine repeating.

Before you can say anything else, John’s lips travel to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin as he speaks. The hairs on the back of your pretty neck stand straight up at the knowledge of how close he was to you.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I took the job.” John informs you, his voice low and sultry, only meant for you to hear at that moment in time. “I made sure he suffered. And you owe me for that. Least you could do is… well,” John’s eyes trail down your figure, especially eying your cleavage.

Your heart is breaking. There was a twinge of hope in the back of your mind, aching for this man to be the one. The one to swoop you off of your feet and come save you like the damsel in distress that you were. But men are so disappointing.

“So, are you going to give me what I want? Or do I need to take it?” John sharply asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your blood turns cold at the thought of this killer having his way with you, touching you, fucking you. You were stuck. The anger churned in your gut as you clenched your jaw.

“Fine.”

Several minutes pass, and he has led you to his hotel room on the 8th floor, unlocking it and allowing you to enter first. You can only tell the luxuries this man has at his disposal, just from the glamorous hotel room he has brought you to.

The room is dimly lit, with a few candles he begins to light and the moon shining through the curtained windows. You furrow your eyebrows, biting your tongue, as you never imagined John, the killer, to be the romantic ambience type. You suddenly snap out of your head when he calls you by your name.

“Hm?” you ask, eyes wide as he’s turned towards you next to the bed.

“I asked, is there anything you’re uncomfortable doing? And what’s your preferred pace?” John repeated himself, apparently you had been stuck in your own thoughts and didn’t catch it the first time.

Of course there are things you’re not comfortable with in bed. Hell, you’re not even comfortable doing this with a man you hardly know!

You tell him the few things that are completely off limits with you, he ponders this and nodded his head, agreeing to your terms, even though this was a favor you were returning. The man, perhaps 20 years your senior, hasn’t broken eyesight with your figure for the past hour.

You almost feel like a meal that’s been prepared, just for him. Served on a silver platter and sent directly to his room, waiting to be ravaged upon. You wouldn’t be surprised if he began drooling soon.

He wasn’t kidding when he told you he’s been thinking about this since he met you a few days ago. It’s like you’ve tattooed yourself into his fleshy and morbid brain, refusing to let go, tormenting him with every small action you did, unintentionally or not.

But your curiosity is killing you.

“What pace do you prefer?” you shoot the question back at him instead of answering it yourself. You were experienced, sure. You were a grown woman. The past several months were filled with abuse and subpar sex with your (now dead) fiancé. Not that this owed favor would be any better, you’re expecting something that lasts maybe a few minutes just so John can get his stress out.

Of course you’re not expecting John to be generous, especially if this is simply a debt to be paid by your body.

John tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue in thought while he sauntered over to you, who was on the opposing side of the bed. His eyes linger on you, not blinking even once as he soaks in your features. His rough hands began to undo his black silk tie, unbuttoning his white dress shirt that had already been stripped of its suit jacket. His knuckles are bruised and scabbed, John’s been a busy boy this week.

“It seems I may have grown a bit, fond, of you, this week.” John says, clearing his throat. “Can I show you how I want you?”

Your heart rate goes up, you bit the inside of your cheek, blinking up at the tall and intimidating creature that is John. It’s not like you can say no. You owe him. You owe him your life, he practically saved yours, no matter how unethical this was.

So you nod your head.

Moments pass but it doesn’t take John long to practically rip off your cute outfit, revealing the soft and sexy figure underneath. His bruised hands immediately grab you, he’s completely overtaken by the reminder of how small and delicate you look. Your sheer size difference between you and him, in height and weight, makes him so fucking erect. John shoved you against the fancy hotel wall, attaching his lips to yours, initiating a dance of tongues and teeth, taking your bottom pink lip and nibbling a bit. The move earns a squeak from your throat. John takes a moment to take his hands off of your soft flesh, disconnecting his lips from yours. John unzips his pants, letting them and his heavy belt fall to the floor.

It doesn’t take a second thought for him to reattach his hands to your thighs, grunting as he easily lifted your body up and to his level, with easier access to your lips and… well, your other pair of lips.

In the few minutes that you’ve been kissing, your cunt began to glisten with your arousal, especially now with John’s bare and rock hard cock pressing up to your small entrance.

“Shit, I just know you’re a tight little thing, huh?” John growled, using his innate strength to only hold you up by one arm, spitting into his hand and rubbing the slick between the tiny folds between your thighs. You moan as he delicately rubbed your clit, then giving himself a few pumps to wet his length.

“You gonna give up your pretty little pussy to pay me back? Huh? Gonna be a good hole for me to fuck?” John asked in a gruff and low tone into your ear, while you felt his thick tip push inside. Your breath hitched at the burn of his unexpectedly large dick, your cunt can only adjust so much in so little time.

“Agh! Y-y-yeah, just like that, please,” you stammered, gripping hard onto his muscular and wide back while he began to thrust. John gave you little to no time to get used to his length. You’re quickly able to adjust to his pace while he grabs your hips and thighs, moving you up and down on his cock that he was simultaneously thrusting into. Tonight, you’d be his good little fuck toy.

“Fuck, need to be deeper in you.” John growled, manhandling you and tossing you onto the hotel mattress. Within seconds, he had flipped your body, stomach side down and pulled your ass straight up in the air, giving you a few hard smacks.

You cry out in pain but before you can say anything, he’s already jammed his cock back into your tight cunt, with you squeezing yourself around him, earning yourself a few tender moans from John.

John took his large hand to grab the roots of your hair, pulling your head and neck back while John pounded into you, causing you to go dizzy. He’s fucking you almost like a rabid animal, and for some reason, you love it. The two of you resemble dogs in heat, while he relentlessly thrusted into your already sore pussy, moving his hand from your hair to around your throat. You can even feel his balls smack the cusp of your ass, informing you that he’s been fucking you with his full length for a bit now. You swore you could feel John’s cock in your stomach, moaning and begging out loud for him.

John’s hand tightens around your throat, restricting as much oxygen as possible, quieting your moans and cries for more.

He brings his other hand and spanks your red ass again, it’s gonna hurt to sit down for the next few days, but the sensation along with him fucking you from behind was a delicious combination.

“Good little slut, who’s my whore? Huh?” John asked, spanking you again. The sting of your ass is almost too much to bear.

You struggle to answer, but you do it.

“M-me! I’m your little whore.” Your scratchy voice strains. He flips over your pretty body again, his hands and eyes glazing over the front of you. You’re going to hurt tomorrow. You can only imagine all of the bruises and scratches you’ll be finding over the next few days.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world right now.” John mumbled, spreading your legs all the way to your chest and putting himself into you, thrusting over and over again. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against your cervix, making you whimper and cry out, your nails dig into his biceps, and he couldn’t care less. “So fuckin’ beautiful, just for me…” John grunts under his breath. He lets out an intense groan from the bottom of his throat, pulling out of your sopping wet hole. You almost frown.

Unfortunately, you ended up beginning to like this favor you owed a bit too much. So much so that you begin to whine and pout the second that John pulled himself from you.

The older man bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, forcing himself to stifle his wicked smirk as he peers down at a desperate and needy little thing from below.

That thing being you, of course.

“Oh?” John asked innocently, despite the filthy sin you two were committing at the moment. “What do we have here?”

Remember when I mentioned that you were a meal in waiting?

Well, John was about to devour you.

He’s starving for you, attaching his lips and tongue to the folds he’s been unforgivably pumping into for the past half an hour. The sensation of his calloused fingers gripping and spreading your fleshy thighs apart, with malicious intent, mixed with the gentle and needy laps his tongue is giving your pussy is nearly too much to handle. He even gives your clit a few soft motions with his lips, your vision is blacking out from the carnal ecstasy John is so humbly gifting you at the moment.

Your ears can pick up a soft grunting from him, he’s taking his free hand and twisting it up and down on his shaft, touching himself to the act of him savoring your cunt.

John pushes two of his long fingers into you while he quickens the pace on your sensitive core, earning a sudden scream from you, jolting up and arching your back. John opens his eyes, not stopping, rather just looking at the way your tits bounced when you arch your back.

You were close. Way too close. John’s fingers were skillfully working you up, and you began to unconsciously clench around them.

“J-John, I’m gonna-“

“Cum for me.” John interrupted, his mouth still in your pussy as he kept his movements steady. He let out a few masculine whimpers into your clit while you lost control of your senses.

Your orgasm nearly brings you to the brink of tears, your vision blacks out, this is a completely new way to experience a climax. Your small hands grip the hell out of the hotel bed sheets, John allows you to ride out your orgasm, while you’re still recovering with your eyes closed, he quickly moves up towards you, and you feel a hot sticky substance splash onto your lips and cheeks.

“Fuck.” John catches his breath, panting and trembling along with you as he came on your face.

And there was a ton of it. Your eyes fluttered open, but you immediately shut them again, noticing that he wasn’t done, with more thick white ropes of his seed spurting now onto your nose and brow, painting a licentious portrait onto your delicate features.

You hear a click, and can see the outline of a bright flash through your closed eyes, but with your cock drunk state, you wouldn’t even think to mention it to John.

Besides, now he has a pretty little Polaroid picture of the facial he gave you, just the right size to keep in his wallet for safe keeping.

Now he has a bit of leverage on you, just in case he'd like another favor like this again. You wouldn’t want him to spread such a lewd picture of yourself around the internet, now would you?

He’ll enjoy every last bit of you for every single session you two share together. He’ll take advantage of your vulnerability and willingness to cave at any slight disadvantage you had.

You were his, and you didn’t even know it.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #jw #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick smut

[solarisstyles]

MS.HONEY: MS.HONEY'S BIRTHDAY

Pairing: Harry Styles x F!Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Warnings: tooth rotting fluff!, kissing, relationship developments Summary: It takes a village to raise a special needs child. Gemma's son is growing up and starting kindergarten in the fall. Uncle Harry is struggling with not being able to spend all day, everyday, with his nephew who he's grown quite attached to. When he accompanies Gemma and Arlo on his first day of school, he meets Ms.Honey. Harry decides Kindergarten might not be so bad after all. A/N: For the sake of the story, Gemma and Harry live in the states. I know more about the school system in America than the UK so it just made sense! This story is not meant to be a 100% depiction of what a family of this dynamic is like. Harry and Gemma Styles are very real people and are only being used for fictional purposes!

*please like and reblog to help your local fic writers*

The weather was truly in your favor today. A soft breeze, bright blue sky, the birds were happily chirping and flying back and forth between the trees and your bird feeders. It was what you would describe as your idea of a perfect day. Laid out in your hammock, you had your eyes closed as you listened to the songs the birds would sing for you, and enjoyed the cool breeze against your face. The sun was starting to set and the air had that summer-like chill to it when you decided to head inside. 

Grabbing a microwavable dinner from your freezer, you popped it into the microwave to cook. While the microwave worked its magic, you grabbed your phone to see what calls or texts you’ve missed while outside today. You weren’t shocked to see a missed call from Harry along with several texts.

Harry: When were you going to tell me your birthday was next week?

Harry: If you think we aren’t doing anything to celebrate you’re crazy!

Harry: Woman, call me back so I can make birthday plans for you!!!!

You could imagine how flustered he must have been right now waiting for you to reply to him. The teasing part of you wanted to make him wait a little longer but the soft side of you that Harry occupied had you calling him back without a second thought. As if he was looking at his phone, just waiting for it to ring, he answered on the second ring.

“About damn time!” He greeted you.

It made you laugh, shaking your head fondly, “Sorry, I was laying in my hammock all afternoon and I didn’t have my phone with me.”

Harry took a moment to envision you laid out and enjoying the beautiful weather today. He wished more than anything he was there to enjoy it with you. “Fine, you’re forgiven. But next time I won’t be so nice!” he threatened.

You knew he wasn’t being serious though. You could tell by the goofy voice he put on when he said it. “So who snitched about my birthday?” you asked, curious.

“We, technically the school, but Gemma called me and told me. So let’s blame Gemma.”

“That darn Gemma.” you decided to play along.

“Right? An absolute menace to our society. She must be stopped!”

“Well you’re her brother…so wouldn't that make you just as much of a menace?”

“Do you think I’m a menace?”

“Yes.”

“WELL I NEVER.” He exclaimed, making you laugh once more. He always knew how to tickle your funny bone.

“I’m only half joking.” you promised, grabbing your food out of the microwave and stirring it up.

“Well Ms.Jokester, what do you want to do for your birthday?” He asked, making himself comfortable on his own couch while he talked to you.

“Well considering I’ll be working, nothing really.” sitting down at your dining room table, and putting him on speaker phone so she could sit comfortably and eat.

“You’re working on your birthday? That’s lame! What about next weekend then? We could do something.”

It was endearing how much he wanted to spend your birthday together, but you couldn’t ignore the knot of guilt in your stomach thinking about it. “Harry, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I know you want to wait till after Arlo’s graduation to date and I respect that. We can hang out as friends though, right? Is that allowed?”

Thinking over his words, you felt the knot loosen in your stomach. “I guess you’re right.” you said, pushing your food around the plastic container. “I just don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”

“I know Honey. I’m sorry that it has to be like this right now. I still want to show you how special you are and celebrate your birthday. Even if that means we have to sit on opposite sides of the room to do it.”

Smiling at your food, you couldn’t help but blush, “well that’s really sweet of you.” taking a deep breath, you breathed out, “Fine, I’ll bite and let you celebrate my birthday with me.”

“A splendid choice!” Harry exclaimed. “What would the birthday girl like to do?”

You pondered the idea for a moment. What you really wanted to do might be too boring for his taste. You couldn’t think of anything else though. “Honestly, I want to stay in. How about we get sushi, stay at mine and spend the evening watching a movie?”

Harry hummed, “If that’s what the birthday girl wants, it’s what the birthday girl gets.”

“Really? You don’t think that’s too boring?” you asked, feeling uncertain.

“Honey…” Harry softly said, “Listen, if it’s with you then I’m going to have a great time. If that’s what you want to do then I’ll do it. And if you must know, that’s my ideal type of evening. So, I’d be more than thrilled to do it with you. I promise.”

You smiled at the phone, “Thanks Harryy. You’re the best.”

“You only deserve the best. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Enjoy the rest of your relaxing evening.”

“You too.”

- - - - - - - - -

The day of your birthday was a total blurr. Even though you were working, the day flew by with flying colors. Your students brought in small hand made gifts for you that just melted your heart. You promised all of them that their work would be proudly displayed at your home to always remember them by. 

While the kids were at lunch, you had a special delivery again from Nancy. She came to your classroom with an arm full of flowers and a box of chocolate covered strawberries. “Mr.Honey has done it again.” Nancy said in a teasing tone. 

You giggled, taking the gifts from her, “He’s too good to me.” you told her.

“You’re dating right?” Nancy asked.

Setting the case down on your desk along with the box of strawberries, you sighed softly, admiring the flowers. “No, I told him we couldn’t date till Arlo graduated.”

“What?! Why?!” Nancy exclaimed, looking at you with a dumbfounded expression.

You returned the look with a confused one, “I’m not allowed to date the family of the students in my class.”

Nancy brought her palm to her face and shook her head, “Oh, Honey that’s only for parents. You won’t get in trouble if you date him.” laughing at the shocked look on your face.

“Well then, he’ll be very happy to know that.” you said, giving a shocked giggled back to her.

“Happy birthday to you.” she teasingly sang to you with a wink, walking out of the room.

You couldn’t wait to surprise Harry on Saturday with this new found information.

- - - - - - - - -

When Saturday arrived, you were up early and stress cleaning, even the parts of your home that you knew Harry wouldn’t see or care about. It had to be perfect. Nothing could go wrong. By the time midafternoon rolled around, you were collapsed on the couch, sweaty from all the cleaning you’d done. Your phone vibrated on the coffee table next to you, making you groan as you reached for it and swiped to answer the call. “Hello?” you breathed out.

Harry chuckled through the phone, “You sound like you ran a marathon.”

“I basically did. I’ve been cleaning all day.”

“Perfect, I’m gonna mess it all up now.” he teased.

“I’ll have to hurt you.” you laughed softly.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time babe.” making your heart skip a beat. “I’m getting the sushi now and going to grab a few more snacks from the store. I should be heading your way soon.”

“Good, I’m starving.” you groaned. “I’ll see you in a little bit. Drive safe.”

“Will do Honey.”

After you hung up, you had to force yourself to get off the couch and go shower. As much as you hated it at first, the hot water was welcoming to your aching back. You were super glad at this point that you decided to spend the night in. When you got out of the shower, the cool air made you feel more awake and refreshed. 

Picking out your cutest pair of pajamas, you figured you might as well stay comfy if you were gonna spend the evening watching movies. Throwing your hair into a messy bun, you gathered all the fluffy pillows off your bed and brought them to the living room.

You arranged them on the floor so the two of you could comfortably sit together. Moving the coffee table to the side, you even grabbed a few fluffy blankets to lay out and use if you wanted to.

“Ooo wine!” you hummed to yourself as the idea popped in your head. Going to the fridge to get the bottle out, you were interrupted by a knock on your door. Setting the bottle on the counter, you jogged over to the door and opened it to see Harry’s bright smile and sparkling eyes. “Happy birthday!” he cheered, walking in as you made room for him through the doorway.

A soft giggle could be heard from you as you watched him trapease his way to the living room, dumping the bags on the makeshift blanket pallet you made just moments ago. Turning to see you’d followed him, he wrapped you in a hug, picking you up and spinning you around. You couldn’t help but squeal with laughter, tucking your face into his neck as you held onto him tightly.

Gently setting you down, he leaned his forehead to your own, looking into your eyes. “I’ve missed you.” he whispered.

“I’ve missed you too.” you told him, playing with his curls gently at the nape of his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which he eagerly returned.

“How about we eat and start a movie? I’m starving.” rubbing his hands along your sides gently, rubbing just low enough to drive you crazy.

You nodded, “I like that idea.” you breathlessly said, “Let me go grab the wine from the kitchen.”

Letting you go reluctantly, you were quick to retrieve the bottle along with two wine glasses. “I hope you like red.”

“I love it.” he assured, setting out your sushi in front of you while you poured both of you a glass.

“What movie did you pick to watch first?” he asked, accepting the glass when you handed it to him. 

“Rose Red.” you proudly said, taking a sip of your wine.

Harry hummed in approval, “Stephen King. Excellent choice.”

It was indeed an excellent choice. By half way through the movie, Harry and you were cuddled together, bellies full of good food and beginning to feel a little tipsy from the wine. 

You quickly discovered with Harry that he loved to talk during films. Which was perfect since you enjoyed it as well. While he would critique the film’s small details, you would make off handed comments about the characters and how stupid some of them were. Harry was amused when you would go on a random tirade about a stupid decision one of the character’s made. “For somebody who likes this movie you sure are yelling at it a lot.” Harry noted, giggling.

“I do like it! It’s just fun to yell at it too.”

“It’s cute.” Harry mumbled, pulling you closer into him.

Looking up at him, and him looking down at you, made you not want to wait any longer. “Harry…I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he asked, feeling a little nervous.

“Nancy brought me the flowers and strawberries as you know. Well she asked if we were dating. I said no and she asked me why like I was crazy.” You giggled, thinking back to her facial expression. “I told her I wasn’t allowed to date my students' family and she told me that was only for parents. I wouldn’t get in trouble if I dated you.”

A giant smile creeped onto Harry’s face as he processed what you just told him. “Seriously?” he asked.

“Seriously.” you repeated, rubbing your nose against his own.

Pressing his lips against your own, the kiss quickly turned heated. He laid you back gently onto the pillows, positioning his body to hover above your own. This kiss showed you both the feelings you were holding back. Desperate to express through a simple gesture. “Be my girlfriend.” Harry mumbled against your lips.

“What?” you couldn’t help but giggle and smile, making him smile too.

“Be my girlfriend,” he repeated “Please.”

Looking up into his eyes, you could see the immense amount of adoration they held for you. “Yes.” you whispered. It felt right. It had to be right. They always say when you know, you know. And you were so sure in this moment that you knew. Harry couldn’t help but feel the same way.

With goofy smiles on your faces, the both of you started to giggle, feeling giddy and high from life and the happiness you brought each other. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“And we haven’t even had dessert yet.” Harry said, suddenly sitting up and reaching for a bag.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as he pulled out a tray of cupcakes, holding one up and putting a candle in it, lighting it with his lighter. He turned to you and began to sing Happy Birthday. You watched with a smile on your face, sitting up fully to be closer to him. Once he finished, he held the cupcake closer to you.

Closing your eyes, you made a wish then blew out the candle. “Thank you Harry. For everything.” you said, taking the cupcake. Pulling the candle out and sucking the icing off of it, you hummed happily. 

He chuckled, grabbing his own cupcake to eat. “I’d do anything to see that sweet smile.”

If only he knew your wish was for him to make you smile for the rest of your life.

TAG LIST: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @justlemmeadoreyou @squirreljoe @end-of-the-earth @behindmygreyeyes @buckybarnessimpp

#ms.honey🐝 #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #sunny writes

[kittensbooksart]

Do you think you can draw a historically accurate version of belle’s other dresses in beauty and the beast?

(While I was searching for the pictures of the original designs for this post I realised I had forgotten the existence of the green dress, which I think she wears at the end of the film?)

I do love making these historical versions so I did do couple of sketches.

I made them based on around 1750s fashion, like the first Belle I made. I do have to admit that the blue dress is not exactly super historically accurate. I gave her jumps, usually a sort of waistcoat that's laced (usually unboned or very lightly boned) and works as a replacement of stays. Usually when they are depicted in art from the time, they are used by working women while they are doing physical labour. Which makes sense, you don't have extra sleeves that might be too warm or hinder arm movement and they are softer than stays so they don't also hinder torso movement but are still somewhat supportive. But upper class women did wear them too as a part of negligee but not really at all in social situations. Then they were usually also quilted. I think it's pretty safe to say Belle is not working class. I think her father could be classified as craftsman and being from that class does make sense to their social status. That would make them under the merchant class and basically roughly lower middle class in 18th century French standards. They do live in rural village though, and jumps seem to be more depicted on rural settings and on peasants too. They are very informal, but it also seems like rural social settings just tended to be more informal. So I think that could lend a little more plausibility.

If I would have taken a safer route I'd given her a jacket/caraco or a round gown/robe a l'anglaise, which were commonly used by middle and lower classes and also upper classes for casual wear. People at the time generally didn't go outside without covering their head. Most women wore caps at least during the day to keep their hair cleaner. In fancier evening occasions (mostly only upper classes and upper middle classes would attend those) they would not cover their hair. Also hats were popular and I've seen several of these very wide brimmed hats, usually made of straw, on artisan and peasant French women.

For her pink gown robe a l'anglaise would have worked too, as it was clearly semi casual, not negligee, but also not the ball gown. But being a castle of a prince and it being used for a dinner scene, robe a la francaise works better, as at the time they were used for salons and other fashionable but not very official gatherings (not outings though) by the nobility. I could have also given it the kerchief, it would have fitted better the look of the original design's neckline made it a little less formal, but maybe we can imagine this is how she wore it to the dinner and she'd had worn it with a kerchief during the day or something.

#not me overthinking historical clothing of some silly little sketches #art #fashion history #fanart #answers #anon #beauty and the beast #historically accurate belle #historically accurate disney princesses #disney fanart #disney #18th century fashion #historical fashion #my art

[2n2n]

Can you explain more or less what the mysteries of time did exactly in this chapter? I honestly got confused

That's fair! Happy to talk about my interpretation of anything. Be aware anyone you ask a question to has their own bias-- it might be helpful to reread the manga from start to finish, to better understand an arc, or look for things that foreshadowed it. I think Iro-sensei is actually remarkably good at regularly summarizing & connecting events!!!!

To start though, I'll try to go pretty chronologically in 'things we know'....

we already know the timeline we've been in isn't 'right'. It does not match up with Tsuchigomori's bookstacks, meaning, events have been tampered with in a way that betrays fate. The Clockkeepers are likely aware of this, too, given their power also deals with chronology.

The Clockkeepers have been-- likely this whole time-- waiting for the inevitable opportunity to understand what is going on. By their nature, they are patient.

Since the Broadcast Club is procedurally going through every Mystery & their Yorishiro, eventually the conflict would come to their door. All they needed to do was wait.

As Kako says, "I am never late". For all of the chaos caused in the school, he's rarely in a rush to fix it, and seems to often allow unpleasant things to commence, without concern for the impact on individuals in that little timeline.

(aside, I wonder what he was thinking when Amane said this, in a previous Trial to concern the chaos before the Severance? Another situation wherein Kako was patient, biding his time, & disinterested in rushing to fix the chaos. This is typical for Kako, it would seem. Akane calls him twisted for a reason...)

So, the time finally comes for the Broadcast Club to target the Clockkeepers. Kako holds a trial in order to study the likely culprits, & narrow it down to a sensible explanation. Between Mystery no. 7, his kannagi, and his yorishiro, and I guess Minamoto Teru, whose family legacy is tied to the God, something is 'amiss', and can explain all of this disarray.

Kako has a pragmatic mind. He is indifferent to how many people suffer, apparently including his own body! He is not angry, he does not lash out at Tsukasa for ripping him or Mirai apart. He's waiting patiently to understand.

In a way, this 'trial' is only a staged event, for Kako to wait for a meaningful piece of information to 'click' everything into place. As Amane and Tsukasa quarrel, he finally has the reasonable explanation for EVERYTHING in this timeline going off the rails...

What is that reasonable explanation?

The timeline has been tampered with by a God-- someone who can apparently act outside of the typical boundaries of human & kaii.

The God appears to be .... a body of water, perhaps? Whatever the case, it is connected to a body of water at the pit of a cavern. Sacrifices were thrown down a pit to this God in Sumire & Hakubo's time.

The Minamoto clan personally governed the raising & managing of these sacrifices in ancient times, so it makes sense Kako had suspected Teru of involvement, hence his inclusion in the trial.

Nene-chan met the withered souls of the past Kannagi beneath the Red House, the Yugi twin's family home.

The Well God beneath the Yugi family home is the same God Sumire & Hakubo's village relied on for safety & protection. If you tuned out of Sumire & Hakubo's story (many did, finding it irrelevant...), go back & reread it all!!!!

which Tsukasa had bonded with & given voice to,

and became merged with Tsukasa, somehow, during his stay in the Red House-- a space outside of time. Something about Tsukasa is different, from all of the other kannagi thrown to the cavernous pit... despite that he intended to sacrifice himself for Amane.

Tsukasa became entangled with it...

Humans historically prayed to this God & made offerings to it. This God granted wishes for a price, just like Amane & Tsukasa do. Aida-sensei recently depicted people praying to Tsukasa in the house, mirroring how people prayed to the God.

Sumire explains the Well God thoroughly in her arc:

Nene-chan also outlines how the Mysteries are some sort of new, alternate solution to relying upon sending sacrifices to the Well God in the Severance:

(the Mysteries themselves meanwhile, are described as being Pillars of God,

and seem to channel their powers from a central God... destruction of the Yorishiro is described by Sakura as "returning the power (to their) original form".

It's possible the Mysteries borrow THE Well God's power using the Yorishiro system, so as the Mysteries are peeled, Tsukasa's God-self sucks it in. This means destroying EVERY Yorishiro, returns 100% of the power to the God-- eventually even unspooling Tsukasa [for some reason, it will also kill Nene-chan, which might mean she also contains a portion of the God, keeping her alive?]. But that's getting into theorizing... so I won't dwell But I kinda say this so you are less confused later?).

Kako, having identified the God's presence within Tsukasa, is now going to go back in time to 'correct' the irregularities.

We see Kako go back in time to the year before the Yugi twin's murder-suicide or as it's often referred to as, shinjuu (lover's suicide). He goes to 1968-- the Yugi died together in 1969.

The Clockkeepers are going to create a new, 'fixed' timeline. They know Tsukasa is housing a God in his body, & has since he was young. They will stop Tsukasa, somehow, from being able to skew events.

We don't know what the new world will be like, and neither does Akane.

Meanwhile... Akane does not actually trust the Clockkeepers:

It would appear as if Akane has instructed Teru to perform some kind of ritual on Nene-chan, perhaps as a failsafe?

Akane has placed his trust in Nene-chan in the past, so maybe he wants to have assets to pull on, in the event the new timeline is in some way, bad for himself or Aoi.

Akane hopes the 'new present' is a good one. He is waiting to see for himself what the Clockkeepers are doing, and if it is actually good for any of them, or only good for themselves.

We know that, typically, when the Clockkeepers tamper with time, they take the memories of those involved in the affairs:

However, at the end of this recent chapter, we see Nene-chan register time has changed, confused & startled by the sudden reset.

which likely means that someone has ENSURED she will retain her memories of the previous timeline. Probably Akane & Teru! Aoi meanwhile, is likely ignorant.

(HOWEVER, it's also possible Nene-chan's high spiritual power alone could enable her memory retention...? Kako mentions high spiritual power could effect such a thing in the first Clockkeeper's arc. Kou's spiritual power is weak, so he's likely to lose his memories, but we don't really have a grasp of Nene-chan's... other than, Teru himself is quite surprised by her ability to bless away the mass cursing in the 'Kegare' chapter)

So in summation:

Tsukasa is confirmed to contain the Well God. The Well God is confirmed to be the ancient God from Sumire & Hakubo's time. Tsukasa is seen by the Clockkeepers as responsible for the timeline we have spent this entire manga in. The entire circumstances of the timeline have NOW been altered by doing something to Tsukasa or Amane in 1968. We are possibly now inside the 'corrected' timeline. Akane is observing this new timeline for irregularities. Nene-chan is also now observing it.

Everything that just happened with the Big Clock, Mitsuba, the chaos in the school, has been undone.

What does that entail? It's my blog so now I can extrapolate for fun-- for FUN!!--

Tsukasa is the reason Mitsuba could even be a simple ghost, and meet Kou as one at all. Does he even exist in this timeline? Will Kou have his old memories? Or would Teru prefer him mindwiped? (Kou was more agreeable & loyal to him before meeting Hanako & Mitsuba, after all)...

If the shinjuu was stopped & Tsukasa alone was plucked somehow, is Amane even no. 7? Is he even dead?

Are we in the bookstacks-recorded timeline? Or is this another timeline? Will we see multiple different timelines as the Clockkeepers try different solutions, or just the one?

is it a good thing, to make it so the shinjuu never happened?

will we, the readers, LIKE IT? or will we be scared & upset, as everything we had observed up until this point is utterly erased?

will Nene-chan recognize this as BETTER? is it what she WANTS?

will we want our original timeline BACK?

Nene-chan once wanted this...

.... but can she confess to 'Hanako', or be with him at all, in this world? Hanako-kun was a mononoke from the 1960s. We don't even know what bizarre events transpired to turn a normal tragic boy into a mononoke, and a School Mystery at that. It's likely never been 'correct' that he be with Nene-chan. That they know each other as teens at all feels like not only a huge fluke, but perhaps an elaborate orchestration (perhaps by someone who wants them to be together, perhaps by someone who can see many timelines and wants Amane's happiness, yet doesn't believe they can personally be loved by Amane directly... perhaps someone who met Nene-chan long ago, 'before' all of this, & knew she could love him, in some sort of space outside of time... hmm... ).

Nene-chan and Hanako-kun bonded as Mystery & his Kannagi, tasked with correcting the rumors flung into chaos by the Broadcast Club. Those are the circumstances they fell in love under.

Isn't it so exciting? We're going to learn so many lessons!!!!!! It's time to be grateful for what we had, MAYBE!!!!

#avvy's JSHK

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 15

(Chapter 14; Chapter 16)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Don‘t Look Back

With a heavy beating heart you stumble back into your own room. You take the shears, which you used to cut away unwanted and ugly branches of trees and bushes and cut and rip a slit into your new kimono. You need to be able to move. Fast probably too. You gather the food the maiden left, some mochi she made for you and put them into your cleavage. Taking off the sheet from your futon, you wrap it around you. Can’t take much with you.

If the cold get’s me, then it’ll be like that.

You put on your tabi and take your geta sandals in your hand. Can’t slip into them yet, they’re too loud. You hate that it came to this. You hate how you feel. You want to go back just a few nights ago.

When you were with him.

Alone.

You slide open your door, check if someone is there. No one. You start to tip toe through the halls and you realise, that you have no idea how to get out of here. You have never left this part of his shrine, since you arrived. Arriving at the passage that leads to his throne room, you hurry into the opposite direction. Past the door that leads to the kitchen, where you used to collect his dinner, you see another big, heavy door in front of you. You pull at the knobs and with a lot of strength, you manage to pull them open just wide enough for you to slip through. Eyes wide open, you try to see in these dark halls, despite them being almost pitch black. The only source of light being the openings that let light from the moon fall through to your right. It’s still snowing. You hurry through these halls, noticing more doors to your left, looking similar to the door that belongs to your room. While wondering if these are the rooms of the other maidens, you see that the halls channel off to your left.

Which way do you go? Forward or left?

In the blink of an eye, you decide to go left, halls turning darker and darker the more your feet carry you into them. Your ragged breathing being the only thing you hear. Luckily no one is to be seen. Actually nothing at all.

It’s getting so dark, you have to touch the wall right next to you, to keep you somewhat oriented. Your feet tap along for several minutes, until the wall ends there.

Going right then.

Hurrying through the darkness, you suddenly stumble and fall.

Stairs. Leading up. Adrenaline quickly lets you stand up again and you carefully climb the stairs until you feel wood in front of you.

The wooden door.

You push against it. Not moving. Pushing more and more, until suddenly a freezing breeze from the outside hits your face.

It stings.

You’ve done it. Putting on your sandals, before you’re pushing a little bit more against the door and you stumble out into the white coldness. The snow already coats the floor, covering your feet when you walk in it. The area around you as dark as the halls you came from, the crowns of the trees from the forest in front of you being only illuminated by the moonlight. The cold wind blows, you inhale and start to run.

Don’t look back.

The sounds of snow beneath your feet and the panting of your lungs fill the air. Soft, white, foggy clouds form in front of your face, while you breathe. You feel so cold. Freezing. Running keeps your body warm, you can’t stop running. As you’re getting closer to the wall of trees that make up the big forest, fear starts pooling up in your stomach. You halt in front of the first tree. It’s pitch black in there. You see nothing. An endless sea of nothing.

Can’t go back.

You run inside. Lungs start to hurt from the freezing air you’re breathing, hair and clothes getting wet from the snow that’s falling. You already know, that this is going to be your end. You’re going to freeze to death. Never thought, that snow would be the culprit. You thought it would be probably some tramp, trying to kill and rob you for something you don’t even own.

Getting slower, you have to be careful not to trip. Seeking help from touching the cold tree trunks, you faintly see a clearing in some distance to you. Before you start to make your way to it, you hear something. Something, that’s moving in the bushes and trees, twigs snapping, footsteps in the snow. Dark growling sounds. You can feel it moving around you, but you can’t see anything. It feels threatening and soon you know, that you’re being hunted. You don’t know what it could be, hoping it’s not the man you once called your King.

Or do you?

Hesitating for a moment, you decide to run. Darkness keeps a lot of things and you hope, that it also applies for the thing hunting you.

You run. Run. RUN.

Fear pulsating in your throat, as you trip over a twig. Ice cold snow and dirt are being greeted by your hands and face. Loosing the sheet you had wrapped around you, as you quickly stand up again, ignoring the stinging feeling on your skin, you continue to run.

It’s close. So close. Only a couple of yards.

A loud howling growl behind you. The noises from in between the branches grow faster and louder. Your breath hitches.

You’re scared. So, so scared. You just want to be back in his chambers. Warm and protected. Feel him. Fuck him. Lov-

Finally you arrive at the rim of the clearing. Trees circle a field of snow in a wide range. The light of the full moon illuminates it, you can see pretty far. Your lungs feel like they rip apart soon, but you can’t just stop here. The thing behind you growls another time and it’s your sign to run into the middle of the clearing. Your feet are already soaking wet and freezing from all the snow they carried you through.

A howl.

The thing didn’t stop, it’s right behind you still. You turn around as you run and see something horrifying.

A beast, reminds you of a bear, runs behind you on all fours, multiple, gigantic eyes spread across the body of it. They start to glow in a toxic green as soon as you lock eyes with it. A big mouth, baring it’s sharp teeth to you. It snarls loudly.

You keep running and in the blink of an eye you notice a red trace you leave on the snow. Eyes widen in shock.

The cotton cloth.

You’ve been bleeding through. The thing howls another time and you start to hear more of them, crawling through the thicket of the trees. Your lungs give up and you start to get slower. Arriving in the middle of the clearing, you’re trapped. The thing drools, as it slows down, crouching, ready to strike. Another snarl at you and in the corner of your eyes, you see more of the green eyes slowly creeping out of the darkness of the forest.

That’s it.

Unable to move any further, shivering, you start to accept your fate. Suddenly the sound of fire rushing through the air rips your eyes shoot up. Above you, you see a huge flame shooting through the sky, looking like some sort of arrow, illuminating the black night and crashing down right next to the predator in front of you, starting a fire on the ground. The beast flinches, exhales a loud growl. Another flame, crashing down far to your left, keeping the pack away from you, as they retreat back into the woods. You look back in front of you, as you hear the thing growling at you once again. Suddenly a smaller flame, shoots right into the beasts neck in front of you, coming from your right. It hits with such a velocity, it had to be shot from a short distance. The beast falls to its knees, howls in agony and you quickly turn your gaze to the direction of which it came from.

Sukuna!

Tears of hate and relief form in your eyes as you see him only a couple of yards away from you. He looks so angry and fierce, his red eyes glowing so bright. He’s wearing his kimono, the upper part of his robe hanging down at his hips. His upper body naked in the snow, holding a dagger in his bottom left hand. Sukuna puts his upper arms into an arching pose, when suddenly another flame arrow manifests at his hands. Your eyes widen, as he aims it exactly at you. You turn around and want to run in the opposite direction, not expecting to see another of these beasts running directly at you. Stopping abruptly, crashing through the snow, you manage to crouch down and cover your head with your arms, as soon as you see the beast jumping into the air to strike you down. With a sharp whoosh, the flame arrow shoots through the air right above your head and hits the beast in its chest. The howling sounds of the dying beasts echo through the air. Feeling relieved that you didn’t die, you remember the one who’s responsible for this. You turn around, only to see Sukuna starting to run into your direction. Adrenaline goes up, eyes widen. Survival mode kicks in and you stand up as fast as you can and run into the direction of the flames he shot at the pack earlier. You’re pretty sure you won’t survive his punishment this time.

You run and run and run and you can hear his footsteps in the snow approach you fast. Getting louder and louder and as you turn around, you see him right in front of you, approaching so fast. Sukuna tackles you and you both fall down into the cold, wet snow. He pins you down with two of his arms and growls loudly into your face, punching into the ground right next to it with one of his fists. Red, angry eyes, so wide open, piercing right into yours. Your eyes scream fear and anger back into his, as he pants heavily into your face, his hot breath on your skin. His face just inches apart from yours.

“YOU’RE MINE!” he growls, so loud it’s echoing through the woods. “YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE!” he starts putting a lot of his weight on you, pushes his pelvis into yours.

“Fuck you!” you spit back, trembling under his weight. It’s actually making it hard for you to breathe. One of his hands shoots to your throat in response, starts choking you hard, even holds the dagger to your skin.

No air. The freezing steel and lack of air making you gasp.

“Do it.” you say with the last air that you had in you, shooting him a fierce look. He sneers at you, mouth twitching in anger, before he lets you go with a growl. You start to cough, slowly filling your lungs again with freezing air, as he stands up. You see his tall figure standing above you, snowflakes crashing against his naked torso, as he’s still breathing heavily, looking down at you. You elevate yourself on your elbows and look up at him with hurt. Sukuna bends down, only to hoist you up at your scarf with one of his hands like you weigh nothing, holding you in front of him.

“You’re not going anywhere” he snarls at you, before he throws you over his right shoulder. The impact knocking the air out of your lungs, as you watch the white ground far beneath you starting to move. Feeling his warm skin under your wet clothes, you try to punch into his back a few times, wiggle in his hold. The arm holding you in place at your thighs presses you more into him.

It’s no use. You’re weak and even more in your current condition. Running through the snow and also falling in it a couple of times drained you and you just start accept that he’s going to carry you back into his shrine.

Except… he doesn’t.

You look up, the distance to the cavaders of the beasts grows. He’s carrying you into the opposite direction of where you came from. Further into the pitch black woods. Away from the shrine.

“That’s not the way back!” you breathe.

“I know.”

#permission #permission chapters #true form sukuna #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #true form sukuna x you #true form sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #fanfiction

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way (Dark Ending): Going Under Part 5 (Finale)

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Spotify Playlist

Summery: After you give birth to Ellie in the cabin, Joel fins you and Tommy, besting Tommy in a fight. What happens to you? What happens to Ellie, Tommy, Lorenzo and the rest of the family Little One has acquired? How does Little One learn to cope with her new reality? Does she fall into the darkness that surrounds Joel and all he touches? Can Joel really change for you and your daughter?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING, graphic violence, murder, manipulation, the horrors, Joel being Joel, Tommy being kinda pathetic, Joel's weird sexual fantasies, breeding kink, abuse of power. Just.... all the bad.

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

Joel watched the man struggle the chair he was tied to from where he stood in the basement of the stairwell waiting for you. The basement was dark, but a single light shined on the man. Alex was his name, a long term member of his group since years before you had come into his life. 

Earlier today, his wife had come to Tommy with a beaten and bloodied face claiming Alex had beaten her. Tommy spoke to neighbors, one of which had relayed she had heard shouting and Mrs. Cane crying from the house that night. This was enough for Tommy; no woman was beating her own face to falsely accuse her own husband. So, Tommy took him to the basement of his little jailhouse, leaving him in the chair for Joel. Tommy was the sheriff, but Joel dealt out justice. 

Not without your approval, of course.

When he heard the door to the basement open, Joel quickly walked up the 4 short steps to help you down. 9 months pregnant, you were ready to pop any day now with your third child. The day in the alley, the day Joel burned your father alive in front of you and you had allowed him to release inside you, you had conceived your son. He was 5 now, little Ellie dragging him and Able on adventure after adventure (mostly trouble). She was a leader, for sure. The name given to the little boy was what Ellie would have been if she was a boy, Caleb Thomas.

Since then, June had given birth to her and Tommy’s second child, Carly Jade, who was 2 months now; you and her had enjoyed a pregnancy together, taken care of by the two brothers. 

Joel aided you down the stairs, not willing to risk harm from even such a short fall. His protective nature never dwindled, even as you came into your own as the town leader. Things were going well, your little town taking on more and more production from farming and recently had been able to work on making textiles. Joel didn’t understand why you had insisted on spending so much time developing the sheep farm, until you had begun trading wool with other towns. In Wyoming, this was valuable.

 After the town’s people had been taken care of, you had begun facilitating trade outside of town. People were hesitant, of course, giving Joel’s reputation but once they met you, things went better. You were demoure, peaceful, empathetic, and your whole life you had to learn to be what people wanted from you. It was the result of unfathomable trauma, but it came in handy. Make no mistake, you were not going to be taken advantage of, not with Joel or one of his men standing by you at all times. Now that the sheep were going well, the next project was to increase the cattle. Calving this season had gone well and several cows would be ready for slaughter this summer and you wanted to put the cow hyde to use to make leather.

Only problem there was no one knew how to turn cow hide into leather. It was frustrating to say the least. Last year you’d been forced to slaughter a cow that had broken its ankle. It was younger, not quite adult yet and you would have liked to have seen it fed more, but there was nothing to be done at that point and you’d have to make use of what you could. One of the men had attempted to make leather, but it hadn’t gone well at all, the leather not strong enough to make jacket’s and shoes and boots like you had wanted. It was turned into a saddle and a few belts and that was that. Zach would have known, but you never learned that much. Tommy told you what you needed. You needed Jackson. Jackson had been blessed with a leather-maker and a cobbler; someone who could turn that leather into reliable boots. Problem was, Jackson didn’t trade with you. You hoped this would change today. You were meeting Maria today; she had agreed to come out to Jackson with the promise of wool just for meeting, seeing as you couldn’t exactly travel an hour out in your condition.

But first, Alex Cane.

“Hi little one, you look beautiful.” Joel greeted you with a kiss.

“Thank you, Joel.” As you take the last step, you turn on the light.

Alex laughs dryly. “Jesus, of course it’s you two.”

You tsk, tsk, tsk. “I’d like to say I thought better of you, Alex, but… I didn’t. I was wondering when you’d slip, honestly.” Alex was one of the men who had been mean to you at the house, and definitely one who had been prepared to rape you if you hadn’t been saved by Tommy. You had wanted him dead for a while now, but refused to abuse your power. Men like this would always out themselves. 

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Well your wife sure didn’t do that to her face herself.”

“She’s clumsy!”

“Sure.”

Alex turned to Joel “You’ve gone fucking soft, Joel! I’ve been with you for a decade, and now you want me dead just because your bitch-”

Joel stabbed him in the leg. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that!”

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” His laugh was dark and sardonic. “I know I’m already dead. It’s kind hypcrital of you, don’t you think? No rape, no beating women. What do you call what you did to her?” Alex nodded over to where you stood. This wasn’t the first accusation of hypocrisy Joel had gotten, and he did not care. He was Joel fucking Miller, and he did what he wanted. “At least Katie was an a grown ass woman, she was a fucking child when you brought her here, now she’s just as psychotic as you!” Another stab.

“Joooooel” You whine. “You keep at that he’s going to die before the fun begins.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Joel draws you in, taking your mouth in his and wasting no time shoving his tongue down your throat. You can’t help but rub your pelvis against his leg. 

“God I’d suck you off right here if I didn’t have to get to the meeting.”

Joel knew what this did to you. After he killed, he was always rewarded with stellar sex. It turned you on, knowing what’d do for you and your family. Alex continued groaning in pain in th background.

“Mmmmm” he groaned. “C’mon, we don’t need Maria.”

“We do, I can’t keep fixing that hole in your shoe forever.”

Joel grumbled but helped you up the stairs. “So that’s a yes on killing him?”

“That’s a yes, thank you for all you do, baby. I might be a little late tonight. After the meeting I have to make sure Mrs. Cane is settled. Might move her to a different house if she wants, one with fresh memories for her and the kids.”

“Sounds good, I’ll have diner ready. Tommy going with you to see Maria, right?”

He never did trust Maria. Their beef went back further than you, or even Tommy. “Yes, dear. Not in the room, but he’ll be there.”

Joel nodded, giving a deep kiss as he sent you on your way. “I’ll check on the kids after I get cleaned up, don’t worry ‘bout them.” June was in charge of the childcare center. Figuring out a schooling system was proving difficult, but you were working on it. It’s not like the kids really needed to learn about George Washington anymore, but you wanted an educated populace as the town grew. Reading was essential, so you were all starting there, plus numbers. It was better than nothing. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Joel swatted your butt as you left, and you turn around to see a prominant erection in his pants. Joel always killed more brutally when he was turned on, so you always make sure to work him up nice and good. Joel lets you leave out the door, and you smile at Tommy waiting for you. 

“Ready to see your ex-girlfriend, Tommy?” You tease him.

Tommy groans. “Not really, but if it’ll help Esperanza, I’ll do it.”

Tommy was a key member of keeping this town running. Women and children felt safe with him, his kind eyes easing them they way he always eased you. Tommy was better working with Joel instead of against; they made a good team, and between you and Tommy, you had managed to calm down Joel’s edge. 

Joel hadn’t changed, he’d aged. It had been almost ten years since Joel had taken you; a night that seemed so far away now. In his early 50’s Joel was far from weak. He was brutal, strong, impossing, but his anger had calmed down over the years, especially after Ellie’s birth. There had been a few nights Joel had gotten carried away in bed, days where his anger surged but you refused to allow your life to go back to what it had been. Your knife was on you all day every day; a gift from Joel all those years ago when he swore to you he’d do better. When Joel acted up, you took out your knife and reminded him that you had stabbed him before, way back in the cabin after giving birth to Ellie, and you would stab him again. You reminded him of your children, and now that it wasn’t just your life on the line anymore. You’d fight for your children.

You didn’t want to kill Joel. You could, easily. He slept next you to every night with your knife on the bedside table and it would not be hard to slice his throat… but you didn’t want to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love him, first and foremost. You did, and you had for a long, long time. You enjoyed his company, he made you laugh, he cared for you when sick or pregnant or tied. You life as a housewife was over; your work was in town, although you certainly still helped run the household. Joel took on more of the childcare and you did more cooking, but that’s beause of your indiviual skills and enjoyments. Joel’s work with Ellie had taken her from a preme to a girl who was reaching physical milestones almost always ahead of time, so you let him take the lead on that. Cooking was your forte and you enjoyed it, so you did the evening cooking. Cleaning and housework was split, although Joel was doing more right now with the pregnancy.

There was also the fact Joel was the father of your children. Ellie and Caleb and now the impending birth of Loretta or Soren (hopfully this week) you wanted them to have a father. Tommy was not an option anymore, and you didn’t want him to be. He and June were very happy together with Able and Carly, and you were happy for them. You loved your niece and nephew very much, and they were under yours and Joel’s protection as much as your children were under theirs.

You knew if something happened to Joel, Tommy would be there for you, but Tommy would never be your husband. Even if Joel and June were out of the picture, you and him had a different bond now. Tommy was your brother, not a lover.

But also, Joel was essential to your town. He still did raiding, but that as slowly fading away in favor of running as a normal town. Of course, the brutal exicutions would never fly in Jackson, but that was the standard that had been set, and you were happy to see the improved enviorment in Esperanza.

Tommy escorted you into the room Maria was in. She was standing, although there were chairs at the table.

Maria greeted you, and then Tommy.

Tommy smiled shyly. “Maria, been a while.” Tommy had not seen Maria since the night he left with you. Being trapped back at the house for months prevented him from going, but he managed to send word out. Tommy was always good at persuading people. 

Maria showed no bitterness. “Sure has, heard you had a few kids of your own now, congratulations.”

“Congratulations on yours too.”

Tommy excused himself and closed the door, although he was behind the two way mirror; Joel’s condition for allowing you to meet alone with Maria.

You spoke first. “Thank you so much for meeting me, Maria.” You attempted to sound as gracious as you could, your social skills having been carefully honed in. Over the years, many people under Joel’s rule hadopted to leave their homes in order to join Esperanza, the community you had built being better than the failing farms. The more people in town the better, and you prided yourself on present a good front in contrast to Joel’s horrors.

“Thank you for having me, but I’m afraid as I’ve said, I have no interest in making deals. It’s not personal, it’s policy. Wool won’t by me out.”

“It’s not to buy you out.” You implure. “It’s for you to hear me out, will you at least do me that?” You implore with her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying if I don’t agree, you won’t give me the wool?” 

“No.” You were quick to assure. You didn’t not play game, you tried to foster goodwill. “The wool promised should already be loaded on your horse, I won’t take that away. I would like to have a good faith conversation, if possible, but the wool isn’t contingent on that.”

Maria stayed silent for a while, looking at you now and you knew she must be curious to the change that had happened. “Contingent…” she muttered. “Big word.” You are put a little on defense, retorting that you can and do read, but she only watched you before shaking her head. “Jackson doesn’t deal with raiders.”

A little frustrated, placing your hands down on the table and leaning in as you press on. “But I’m trying to move away from that!” Can’t she see your vision? How can you make her understand what you’re trying to do? You had caught her attention.

“What do you mean?”

With vigor, you take the oppritunity to plead your case, to let her in on what you and Tommy had been planning, what everything that had happened since the day Joel promised you a town had been leading to. “I want to end the raiding. It’s slowed significant, you have to have noticed that.”

She had. “You’re telling me that Joel Miller is going to hang up his gang? Not happening.

“Oh god no.” You laughed. “Never. But his focus has shifted. You don’t understand Maria, but he’s my muscle. I’m running the show. This is my town, everything happening here I built. Joel answers to me.”

At the very least, she was listening. That’s what you need, just a window… “And where does Jackson come in?”

“We still have needs. A lot of needs. Things have going well but one harsh winter and everything could fall apart. The more resources we have, the better chance we have of staying standing. I need this leather. I need to be able to use the hydes we have, we need to be able to utalize every single resource we have. We aren’t asking for materials, we’re asking to learn. My hope is within a few years, to pull the last of the focus away from raiding completely and use the man power to our to the ranch. No more raiding.”

Maria watched you. You felt on display but were determined not to crack ands she mauled over her thoughts. “You’ve grown up a lot, you know.”

“I know.” You did. At 28, you were far from the girl you were when Joel took you. 

“It’s impressive, everything you’ve done here. It really is.”

“Thank you. It was all for Ellie.”

“You know… Whenever I hear your name, or get a message from you… I think of that first day…”

You shuffle in your seat a little… you didn’t like thinking about that. “Yeah.”

Maria shook her head. “I didn’t think you’d last a month. You were so young, so fragile…”

“I get it.” 

“Then a year later you show up on my door and you look like you got trampled by a horse.”

“Maria”

“The absolute shit beat out of you and 8 months pregnant and I here you give birth and Joel finds you? I thought there was no way you make it, absolutely no way someone like you-”

“Someone like me?”

“Would make it through someone like Joel.”

“I’m not-”

She leaned in. “What the hell happened?”

You sigh. “Same thing women have done for centuries, Maria. Look, I’m not you. However you got where you are, that’s great, but that has never been my position in life. Joel is crazy, Maria. He still is. I have freedom now but I can’t leave. So I did what women of powerful men have always done. I use sex and charm to manipulate. I had a baby, I gave him his daughter back so I became this saint to him, I brought a miracle, and I still am.” You rub your swollen stomach. “Maybe I’m fragile, maybe I’m weak and I always have been, but I don’t think so. I survived the worst possible things someone can go through, horrible, horrible things that I know damn well you have not experienced, Maria. But I fucking lived. Not just surviving, I lived. I have a good life, I provided a good life for my kids, and I created a world here where women and children do not have to suffer like I have. That’s what I'm trying to do here, and I do not think that is fragile, that’s not weak, and that’s not little.”

Maria just sat there, watching you talk as you asserted yourself. You had a lot of pride for what you’d built here and you did not appreciate her looking at you like a child. “Send word when you’re ready to slaughter, I’ll send out a few men and they’ll teach you” She stood up, making her way to the door. 

You are a little in shock, but scramble to follow after her. “Wait, what do you want in return?”

Tommy catches you as you head towards the stairs, helping you down as Maria get’s to her horse.

Maria climbed on the saddle now loaded with the promised materials. She turned to you. “Just feed the guys, give them lodging. If you wanna give them a thank you that's great but I won't require anything for the town.”

You blink up at her, bewildered. “Wait, really? Why…”

Maria smiled at you. “You’re doing good here. It’s impressive, and I want to see it flourish.” She nodded at Tommy and went on her way.

Tommy put an arm around you and kissed your head as you leaned into him. “Great job, honey. I’m proud.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. You were proud of yourself too.

*

Joel held you in his arms as he always did after a bath. Both of your hands were placed over your stomach as the thunder storm rolled outside. You’d done the unspoken promise, giving him the ride of his life after the kids were put to bed, and it seemed the baby inside you was very active. Joel loved feeling the little kicks, just as he did with Ellie, feeling her very first kick. You and Joel finally had a chance to talk about the day, and you told him that you’d be getting the help from the tradesmen. Joel expressed his pride to you fervently with his mouth, both in words and between your legs.

Joel kissed your neck. “Beautiful mami… can’t believe how much you do while growing another baby.” 

“I couldn’t do it without you, Joel” and you couldn’t. Everything was built with the help of your family, you were just the leader.

An exceptionally loud crack of thunder made you jump, but Joel’s hands steadied you.

 “I got you, little one.”

“You always do.”

You lay your head back on his warm chest, starting to drift off into sleep when the door opens. The door crack revealed Ellie, propositioning Caleb in front of her.

“Caleb’s scared of the thunderstorm.” Another bought of thunder revealed it was Ellie who jumped, not Caleb.

You began to move off Joel’s lap, and he aided you before coaxing the kids over. “Would you guys like to sleep with me and mommy tonight?”

Ellie still tried to put on a brave face. “Um. Maybe for a little bit.” Then quickly added. “Just to make sure Caleb is okay.”

“Sure, baby girl.”

The subsequent lightning saw both children scrambling to their parent’s arms. Ellie situated herself between Joel and you, cuddling up in your arms as Caleb took his place in his fathers arms. 

You think back to all those years ago, those horrible, horrible months after Joel took you back, how you thought Ellie hated you. You were so certain she’d grow up and turn against you, but your daughter adored you. The two of you were very different, that much was obvious. Even in the throws of pregnancy and hard work you preferred to wear dresses. Joel still brought you home nice clothes and still dressed you, although you had to make sure they were practical. Ellie on the other hand was pretty much strictly pants and t-shirts. While Ellie had no interest in cooking, she liked to sit and watch you while the two of you talked. She spent a lot of time with Joel as well. Joel was determined to make sure she could defend herself and taught her how to shoot just as he did with Caleb, but Ellie had more interest. He saw leadership in her he wanted to cultivate. 

Caleb was a lot like Tommy. He was a follower, and would fight for Ellie to the death. He was strong, but was more of a joiner than a leader. That was okay, not everyone could lead, but Caleb was a moral center. He was gentle by nature, and despite being younger than Able he was protective of Able as well. Able often found himself in trouble. Not that he was a bad kid, just adventurous and without Ellie’s forethought. He was a good kid, through and through, and often tried to take the fall for Ellie and Able despite everyone knowing nothing was his idea. He was no coward. You had worried Joel wouldn’t care for son, that he wouldn’t bond, and you were nearly certain if Ellie hadn’t come first, he wouldn’t have felt much of a connection, but because Ellie had fulfilled the role of his lost daughter, there was room now for a son. Joel loved him dearly, even if Caleb didn’t have the same interests Ellie did. Caleb was close with Tommy, and June too, and Tommy often spent time with Caleb when Joel took Ellie and Able to the things they enjoyed. Caleb liked to watch Tommy work, and was June’ biggest helper in school.

As the kids and Joel fell asleep, you stayed up just a little bit longer just to watch them. Years ago, you never thought this life was possible for you. Not even just with Joel, but with long before. Your dads abuse left you feeling like you had little value, like there was little hope for a life outside the abuse. 

But you had found it. You found a family and a community even if it wasn’t exactly Cinderella. Your husband was insane and had done horrible things to you that you could never fully forgive, but really, what did that matter now. He had his outlets now and had provided a life to you that you could not help but be thankful for. You loved him. You couldn’t help it. Not when he was so gentle, so strong, so handsome, so protective…

 You had a strong, powerful daughter that took no shit and was running the world around her. You had a son who was displaying the best and most positive traits of the men in your life. You had a third child on the way that was so far healthy and a niece and nephew you loved so fucking much. You had Tommy, a brother-in-law you could now depend on in a way you hadn’t before. Tommy had been idolized by you, a prince charming that never really delivered. Now, however, Tommy had come into his own. He was no longer under Joel, he prospered as his own husband with his own wife and children. You had June, your lifelong best friend, who was right beside you and was thriving as a teacher and mother.

The only thing missing were your brothers. You missed them, you missed them so fucking much it hurt sometimes and you spent a lot of time at their grave. You hoped every day you made them proud. Zach and Lorenzo’s last words to you had been to take care of Ellie, and god you had tried. You told Maria you had built this town for Ellie, and you had… but always in the back of your mind you had built it for Zach and Lorenzo. It was to honor them. Many times you found yourself at their grave that Joel had moved to Esperanza, you just cried and told them you were sorry. You’d done so much for your family and for your town, but none of it would bring them back.

But there was no time to dwell. Joel and Tommy could not sit and mourn Sarah. Tommy could not sit and mourn Jack and Lorenzo. June could not sit and mourn Zach. You all had a life now, a world, a town, children. Life finds a way. 

So you press on. You cry and then press on. But you never forget any of them. Still, despite all the loss you look at the world in your bed right now, your growing family and your family next door.

Despite the horrors, despite the loss, you had a good life.

Finally, you were happy.

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

This really didn't end up as dark an ending as i meant it to be, but i guess it's just the fact joel one. In the canon ending everyone loses, honestly, bt joel reaped the fruits of his bullshit. He lost his wife, child, and brother

plus, zach and lorenzo are ded ;-;

but, honestly, what an improvement for little one and those kids? she's really come into her own and im so proud <3

thank you sooooo much for the support!!! I will be taking quite a break from writing anything in universe, but as always I welcome thoughts in any of the time lines!!!

What am i working on now? My lastest dark joel series is a handmaids tale au, blessed be the fruit.

want dark! reader x dark! joel? try guard dog (more coming soon!)

and a dark!triple frontier fic that may ormay not be gettng a part 2!

@pimosworld @rubyfruitjungle @moriartyyouwhore @k-ra @the-fox-den @jenna-ortega @alwaysmicado @lunar-ghoulie @ladynightingale @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maura-honey @fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @miraclesabound @koshkaj-blog

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #tw rape #dub con #non con #dark joel miller #romana after dark #dark!Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller reader #joel miller reade smut #dark joel miller reader #tommy miller fem reader #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fem!reader #the wrong way fic #the wrong way series #tommy miller

[mad-c1oud]

the "I could keep you safe. they're all afraid of me" or "do you feel safe enough to come with me?" for starcicle....these are already so juicy for etoiles to say but also there is something so intriguing about scenarios where charlie is the one saying it..... maybe these ideas would be fun to write?

YEAHHHHH no way you looked at the same one as me and also thought "oh but charlie saying this..." it's like you read my mind. Gonna write about one here, but expect to see the other in a regular text post because oh man they are so fun to write...

Feel free to ask for more prompts yall!!!

+++++

(Warnings for depictions of serious injuries and shock)

"Do you feel safe enough to come with me?"

Étoiles startles out of his panicked-induced scrambling to stop and look at Charlie, eyes wide and breath stuttering in his chest. Everything is blurry but he still has his mask on so he isn’t sure what’s going on. “W-what?”

Charlie is unharmed save for a nick above his eyebrow which means Étoiles did his job correctly, but the fighter himself has been better, sure. The slime hybrid eyes his sluggishly bleeding wounds, stopping to blanch at where his hand should be before his eyes shoot back up and lock with Étoiles’ again. The next time he speaks, it isn’t as meek or unsure, “Do you feel safe enough to come with me? I-I think we’re near a cave system I recognize. Somewhere we can hide until we can uh…” He gestures vaguely to where the fighter is cradling his severed limb to his chest protectively, “Address that? Neither of us can go back outside like this, man.”

God, Étoiles hates that he’s right. There’s sticky chlorophyll dripping onto to ground from his wrist and there’s a suspiciously wet spot growing along his side that can’t be good. He’s down one hand, his scythe is still outside with at least four code monsters hovering about. He can’t respawn unless he wants to risk not being able to regrow his hand back later, fuck. They’re stuck in this cave Charlie dragged Étoiles into when he fell and he kind of hates it. Not Charlie, just being stuck. Useless.

“Listen, I know we don’t really know each other well and you’ve heard the rumors which are actually more fact than rumors I guess but I mean I had some pretty good reasons for—”

“Slime.”

“Okay okay sorry, what I’m trying to say is can you trust me this once? You’re kind of missing a hand and an eye and it’s really freaking me out, dude. Would you come with me? The codes can wait, surely?”

Non, ils ne peuvent pas attendre, Étoiles wants to protest before he registers what exactly Charlie said. He refuses to let go of his sword, bringing up his handless wrist to touch his cheek, wincing at the sharp, biting pain it causes. It’s amazing neither he nor Charlie gags at the sensation or sight, but Charlie must not find it gross and Étoiles is realizing he might be in shock. Weird. That doesn’t usually happen.

“Étoiles?” Charlie steps forward hesitantly, bringing his hand up, but stopping before it makes contact with his elbow. The sounds of fighting get louder outside and he starts to tremble, just a little. “You with me buddy?”

“Ouais,” Étoiles mummers, “You said my name wrong.” He notes distantly, grip on his sword lax. Charlie steps more into his space but doesn’t touch him yet.

“Whoops, maybe you can teach me how to on the way to my super-secret hidey hole, yeah? What do you say? Feel like walking with a misclicker?”

Étoiles should be on guard right now, especially when he’s down a limb and an eye but there’s something… comforting to Charlie’s tone, reassuring enough that has him sheathing his sword and grabbing for the offered hand, squeezing it tightly as Charlie beams.

“The ‘s’ is silent.” He mummers as Charlie urges him forward. Chatter from the hybrid fills the cave as he grips Étoiles’ hand with one of his, the other clutching a shitty, iron axe with the other. He forgets to worry about the code and finds it easier to breathe despite the cold, dark walls surrounding them.

He finds it easier to laugh too.

#starcicle #drabble prompt #wrote this in 10 minutes sorry for mistakes #i know i said 500 max but man #it's hard with these two #slimecicle #etoiles #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp fic #qsmp etoiles #mad writings #mad box

[not-so-lost-after-all]

This was a catastrophy...

It started as a joke, though. She told Astarion about Halsin's proposal with a good-natured shake of her head. He started laughing, his usual thetrical self. “He just can't shut up about the freedoms of nature. Darling, you can have as much Halsin as you want.”

There was cold wave all across her body. She stopped her steps, inclining her head and met his eyes. “Is that so?” she said, casually for now.

“Well, if you'd like me to join in, that would indeed cross the line,” he frowned a little. “But I must ask, is that because... you know... we haven't in a while.”

“Gods, give me strenght,” she gritted her teeth.

(Shadowheart chuckled. “I just wonder what exactly you try to achieve here. You want to turn him into someone who can understand how people actually care about each other sometimes? Someone who won't get stabbed within a week on his own? He won't change. Most likely even can't anymore.")

Suddenly the bile inside was on her tongue, overflowing. Esipre was so tired and even viciously glad she didn't care if the words are cutting anymore. “Of course it is, what other reason could I possibly have to go with him? And I don't ask for any permission.”

His eyes widened. Oh, that hurt. It was easy to be mean to him. Cruel, even. “Then have fun, I suppose, my dear.” There was tremor in his voice he didn't bother to hide. No mockery followed, now that was something. But she was not in the mood to coddle him, hug him or kiss him.

“It was never my intention to sleep with him. I told him no because I know it would sting you no matter what you say. I understand why I gave you the impression but you should have known me better by now. You never listen or ask, you only want.”

She never saw her own reflection in his eyes, she only seemed reborn in them in a twisted form. She hardly recognized herself whenever he depicted her character. And yet, wasn't there a grain of beastly truth in his words?

He whispered her name and she knew if she stops for a moment, it would pierce through her heart again.

“I'm not done here. I thought that in recent weeks, I gave you enough to earn if not love, then at least your trust. My blood, protection, warm body during the night, the truth about your scars, the way back to our city - why wasn't it enough? Gods above, anyone else in our merry band would be less demanding and more giving.”

(“That's wonderful lets get married and have kids look, Gale. But I'm afraid you're looking in the wrong direction.”)

And then, the ace from her pocket. “If you think so low of me, then perhaps you also think that if it was Cazador with us instead of you and told me about his sad story, I would spread my legs and offer my neck to him too?”

Astarion took a step back with a jerk. “Don't say that, don't you ever joke about that,” he hissed with both anger and frustrated hurt.

She went way too far, she knew. Esipre closed her eyes for a few beats of her racing heart. It helped. She was a leader, not someone's bitter neglected wife, dammit.

“I'm sorry, that was a low blow. But I'm scared and tired too, you know,” she finished with hollow voice. With a wave of her hand, she left. Mercifully, he didn't follow her.

---

That was a catastrophy...

He simply tried to not stand in her way, to please her, to make her stick around. Now he wondered whether she returned to Halsin or not. It was already dark, everybody already resting at the inn, only Esipre was missing. He found her outside, hunched by the fire, cross-legged and with a bottle of wine. She was so small and perhaps for the first time he noticed the toll this little adventure was taking on her.

“May I?” he started.

“I'm afraid I would be no fun tonight. Perhaps go talk with Lae'zel about our glorious slaughter today? Flirt with Wyll maybe? Whatever. I already told you...”

“That you're going to help me. Yes, you repeated it several times already. I'd rather be sulking in your company if I may.”

He didn't wait for the answer. He quickly found himself with his head in her lap. Like some tamed wolf, he thought. Perhaps that's fitting and strangely he doesn't even mind. Esipre looked at him in displeasure and pressed her lips together but didn't stop him or yell at him.

“Please be patient, you know I'm still learning. If you want me to ask something, I wouldn't even know where to start.”

She laid one hand on his chest but barely met his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed. “Why are you here and not inside with the others?”

“It was wonderful here, without any words. Inside... Everyone wants a piece.”

“And I want the biggest piece of you, of course, until there's nothing left. Why?”

She took a sharp breath and then the words came like a flood. She never was lady enough for her noble mother, savvy enough for her noble father, a piece of furniture for her step mother. Even on the streets she got herself almost killed several times and the few times she sold her body she was so miserable she made the others miserable too. Not good enough of a wizard, never had the time and money before. Not good enough of a friend to not sell her companions to the law or lowlives several times to save her own skin. Never enough. She wanted to not fail everyone just for once. “See, you're not the only one wearing a mask.”

“You're doing great job, darling. Barely any of us died so far. Some of us are even better off now. You've grown so much and maybe you should trust our companions that they know what they're doing when they decided to follow you.” He grinned widely. “Am I doing it correctly?”

She laughed and nodded. There was that light in her eyes again.

“Anyway, whatever happens, I want to thank you for that look. You always brighten up when you stare at me. Nobody ever looked at me like this. I... just wanted you to know that,” he kissed her wrist reverently

Perhaps, just for once, gods actually sent him a blessing.

#astarion #astarion x tav #my writing

[comparativelysuperlative]

What was the book? With the Definitely Real Banishment

Spoilers (obviously) but it's the Lightbringer series. That villain was pretty good! The word-by-word writing is fine! The plot is, for several books' worth, aimed at being Very Generic Fantasy (for reasons that will make sense later). Incoming long post about its philosophy, with even more spoilers.

It's not often that I read a book and immediately go "I can tell you what kind of middle school this author went to." In this case, it was drawing on the author's experience of exactly the theology I grew up with, which was almost eerie.

(I read book one years and years ago, and didn't retain much other than "cool magic system." Probably everything in this post is true about book one as well, but I wouldn't know.)

Google will tell you that the series gets gradually very Christian, to the point where the climax of the last book contains a sermon. But it's more specific than that. These books scream "Protestant, American, classically educated, does not travel internationally very often, male, straight, probably white, the kind of person who would vote straight-ticket Republican until that meant Trump at which point all bets are off." I did not bother confirming most of those. They're just obvious.

The loudest part--to me at least--was the "classically educated." (If you're not familiar, it's this thing.) The series would mention quotes from fantasy medieval Catholics or fantasy ancient Greeks or whatever, and I'd recognize the quotes or the names because they'd be real people I ran across in school. Sure enough, author went to Hillsdale.

Lightbringer is interesting for having an actual vision of a conservative society, not just about hating the right/wrong people. Not being on that team anymore I don't actually like this vision very much, but compared to current conservatives, credit for having one at all.

Differences between people obviously don't affect your value as a person, they just might make it easier or harder or mean you have to specialize differently to accomplish as much For The Group.

(That opinion makes perfect sense for characters in an elite military unit/training for that unit. But that context is mostly specific to book two, and the philosophy really isn't.)

This applies to everything. Physical condition, including strength/weight/gender. Color-blindness. Superpowers. Being straight. (I'm genuinely not sure if that part was intentional. Characters kept getting distracted at terrible times, and the narration outside their head sounded exactly the same as when someone can't run a mile without Trying Very Hard.)

It does not matter whether your mental illness turns out to be literally demons in your head. Either way you've still got to either work through it or specialize around it.

Tradition matters, even when we don't understand the reason behind it.

If you happen to be in a fantasy book and have access to magic, consorting with demons is evil but fancy physics is fine. You can just BET this author got into fights with other Christians about whether Harry Potter was anti-Jesus.

"Irredeemably bad" isn't really a thing. "Not in fact going to be redeemed" is, but it's worth trying to show mercy if you have the chance. If you don't have the chance, kill 'em. Don't enjoy it, though.

Forgiving people for actually-bad things is hard, can't just go "idk, they're good guys now," but it's also important. (I do think this is underrepresented in secular fiction, where it's either depicted as "how could you work with THEM" or "come on, get over it already and team up against the whatever.")

One of the big reveals at the end is "the Christian God is real." The answer to the problem of evil is indeed the popular answer in the denominations I grew up with. Human choices something something mumble free will.

Very incrementalist. You do as much good as you can as fast as you can, but obviously without overthrowing the entire order or anything. Only evil opportunists would want to do that. Yes, even if the existing order is corrupt all the way through.

Speaking of which, you know that organization/political entity claiming to represent God? Corrupt all the way through. God is more personal than that. Protestantism!

Personal morality matters. Your leaders absolutely must be good people, or at least trying to be, or you're screwed.

Personal morality matters. It is safe to assume you'll end up as exactly what your peers expect of you, so pick good peers.

A man should be faithful to one (1) wife. Viewpoint characters speedrun figuring out the philosophy behind this.

(IMO monogamy was a legitimate human rights win by early Christianity, relative to what came before, and I think something similar applies in this setting. But since the real-life alternatives today are so much better than women being property, giving this a lot of screen time sounded like the book is fishing very hard for things historical Christianity did right.)

Also, once you are married you Are Married. It's not that changing that would be unthinkable, just that if you do treat it as an option you're obviously doing it wrong.

Gay people don't exist. Any variety of non-straight, really. Nobody says that it should be that way. It just doesn't come up. Characters are written in enough detail that I can tell you how they'd react if you asked them, and it's mostly the "not my business" + "prefer not to think about it" kind of low-grade homophobia. A few would be explicitly okay with it. But it does not come up. If there were a gay relationship depicted, I'd expect it to be "coincidentally" problematic in some other way.

(I guess there's that one slaver-antagonist whose sexuality is just "sadist." Yeah, one might call that problematic.)

Practically dripping with Great Man Theory of History. There's a scene where the protagonist has a self-affirming/emotional moment about not relying on his family name and meritoriously earning his first kingdom. This is played completely straight.

Don't worry, he uses it for good. At least as much good as he can without overthrowing the existing order etc.

If there are end times prophecies, they might well be true but you can't trust any specific interpretation so it's wiser to just do your best without reference to the prophecy. (This is an interesting take! And not heresy but also not common! I bet the author's reacting against some interesting strains of fundamentalism there.)

A cool idea where angels and demons can be anywhere in any world at any time in history, but are very reluctant to actually do that because they can't pick the same time twice. You can just tell it's the author's Christianity headcanon.

You win by doing your best and having faith in God. The villains are very much a sideshow.

(I think if everyone followed this book's philosophy more it would be a mostly bad thing. Let's not do that.)

(But wow, I wish modern conservatives were only this bad.)

It probably sounds like I didn't like this series. But I did read five doorstoppers' worth. This post is just about the opinions, and the opinions sucked.

Anyway. This has to be on purpose, right, and 10 or 15 years ago I was pretty much the target audience for this. Guess I'm old.

I used to explicitly think "I'm Christian, but atheist fiction is more interesting," and this book is the kind of thing that...tries...to counter that. Fails, because resolving major conflicts with divine intervention is tricky to make interesting. But you'll see why it's going for Every Other Book, But Christian. (Also, the amount of sex in these books is much higher than you might think, given everything. I wish I knew less about what body types the author is attracted to.)

Anyway, I can't really say I would recommend it. But if you're interested in what would happen if Card or Sanderson tried to be Evangelical Lewis for adults, Lightbringer isn't bad.

#brent weeks #the black prism #lightbringer series

[writing--whore]

The Art of Survival - Chapter Two

Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader (set in The Hunger Games)

Chapter summary: When the Reader is stung by trackerjackers, mutant wasps who cause their victims to hallucinate, she is placed in a vulnerable position where anything could happen to her. When Luis finds her staggering through the woods, will he be a friend or foe???

Word count: 3k

Warnings: graphic depiction of violence (some of the violence is committed against you), hallucinations.

A/N: lmk if you want me to give a list of all of the Spanish translations?? But I will say that conejita = little bunny.

Part One - Part Two

Several days into the games, Luis had managed to set up shelter in a hidden cave. He kept away from people for the most part, only venturing out to forage for food. He’d only run into another person once.

He was exploring the terrain outside his cave when he heard a twig snap uncomfortably close behind him. 

A contestant raised a sharpened tree branch to stab him and, as Luis turned, the shiv pierced his shoulder. Pain burst through him but he’d experienced far worse. 

Coming at him with nothing but a shiv had been a foolish move. In a heartbeat, Luis trapped the contestant in a headlock. The constant wriggled, panting as he tried to pry Luis’ hands off. With a twist of his hands, the contestant’s thick neck cracked. The contestant’s limbs went still and Luis threw them to the floor. 

He cursed as he made his way back to the cave. The wound itself wouldn’t do much to weaken him. But he was certainly going to get an infection. 

He ran his hand through his hair. The odds of him winning against the strongest opponents here were slim. The odds were even smaller now he would have to fight them through a fever. 

The sun was beginning to set when he returned to his cave. He prayed to whatever God was listening that all of the opponents could just kill each other while he hid here. But he knew that would never happen. Only the most vicious opponents would be left standing and they would find him. With an infection, he stood no chance. 

Some sort of God answered his prayers. A thud sounded outside his cave and, pipe in hand, he went to investigate. It was a package from his sponsor. He ripped it open to find medical supplies. He could fall to his knees with relief. 

As he poured rubbing alcohol down over his wound, he silently thanked Ada. He almost dropped the bottle when music blared outside. It was time to announce the fallen tributes. 

The loud music wasn’t the reason why his whole body went taught, his hands slightly trembling. It was because he was waiting to see her face light up in the night sky among the other dead tributes. His chest wound tighter with each face, sure that the next one would be hers. 

The projector shut off. He released a shuddering breath. She wasn’t dead yet. But that didn’t make him feel any better. 

He wondered how scared she was right now, fighting for her life day after day. Time moved so slowly here. 

Maybe he should have left her to die on the first day. Then she wouldn’t have had to suffer. 

He didn't even know her, he thought - angry at himself for placing so much emotional importance on a stranger. But she was more than a stranger, she represented innocence, something he had lost years ago. He hated to see it being taken from her. 

No, seeing her face light up among the night stars would be a mercy. If by some miracle, she survived, that meant he would have to kill her himself. 

He prayed there could be a version of events where he didn’t have to see her face again. 

Too many of his prayers had been answered and now his luck had run out; he had ventured outside to collect some water from the stream when he heard a shriek that cut to his very core. Dread gripped him by the throat. He recognised that scream.

~~~

Y/N had not been entirely honest when she’d told the adjudicators and fellow contestants that she possessed no skills. She wanted to keep some tricks up her sleeve, thinking it would give her an advantage if she was underestimated. 

Crime rates were high in district 2 and she had taught herself how to fight with a knife, and even how to throw them. Although, she was sure throwing knives at a wooden target was much different to lodging them into a flesh. She was yet to find out for certain. Her sponsor had sent her a set of knives but her instincts kept choosing flight over fight. 

Her second talent was her knowledge of animals, it calmed her to read about them. And so she elected to sleep beneath a trackerjack nest, knowing how to be around them without disturbing them and hoping the sight of one would deter opponents from approaching. 

Approaching voices startled her away. A group of contestants caught sight of her and instantly sped towards her. 

She surprised herself by how quickly she reacted. She hurled a knife at the nest and rolled away. The nest hurtled through the air and crashed to the floor. Angry trackerjackers fled from their home and swarmed the group of contestants. They screamed and tried to swat the mutant wasps away. Y/N took this as her opportunity to run. 

The trackerjackers’ stingers jabbed every inch of the group's exposed skin. Through gritted teeth, one of the girls nocked an arrow. She wasn’t going to let Y/N get away unscathed. With shaking hands, she released it into the air. 

Letting out a cry, Y/N keeled over onto her knees. The arrow had lodged in the back of her leg. A second sting stabbed her in the neck, this one from a trackerjacker. 

The archer wasn’t done yet. Now that Y/N was an unmoving target, she aimed a second arrow straight at Y/N’s back, knowing it would pierce her heart. A trackerjacker stung her in the eye and she screamed as she released the arrow. 

Tears burst free from Y/N’s eyes as the arrow sliced into her thigh. She had never felt pain like this before. Even through the shock, she could feel the pain pulse through the tendons in her legs with an indescribable fire. But she couldn’t afford to be weak, she needed to keep moving before she got stung or shot at again. 

She pushed herself to her feet with gritted teeth. The arrow heads carved deeper into her flesh with each step. 

A second trackerjacker stabbed her in the arm, and then a third. She cursed under her breath and picked up her pace, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, brows drawing down in agony.

She had already known it was likely the trackerjackers would turn on her if she were to set them on her opponents. It was the best plan she could come up with. She had known their venom would cause her to hallucinate. She just hadn’t planned on there being arrows lodged into her leg at the same time. And despite having days to think about what her plan would be if she were to get stung and start hallucinating, she hadn’t managed to come up with anything better than fleeing to safety and praying she didn’t run into anyone. 

The greens of the forest grew more vivid, the first sign that the hallucinations were kicking in. She would have thought it looked beautiful if she wasn’t in so much danger. She glanced over her shoulder to find that none of her attackers were pursuing her. That was something at least.

She slowed down and leaned against a rock for a moment. She couldn’t keep walking with long arrow shafts dangling from her leg, slowing her down. And God forbid what would happen if she were to fall onto her back. Before the hallucinations got worse, she needed to snap the end of the arrows off. 

With a deep, strained breath, she took hold of the first one and snapped it in half. The force reverberated through her leg and she bit her lip to keep from making too much noise. 

Fractals and strange blobs started to fill her vision as she took hold of the second arrow. She didn’t think she could handle anymore pain but it was necessary. 

She took a few more deep breaths to steady her shaking hands. This snap was clumsier than the last, driving the arrowhead deeper. She wasn’t able to stop the cry that left her lips this time. 

The world started to turn and twist around her. Hallucinations mixed with an overwhelming amount of pain was not a fun combination. Blood gushed in great waterfalls down her legs and she prayed she didn’t pass out from blood loss. 

Part of her wanted to give up but she steeled herself. Pushing away from the rock, she stumbled onwards. She needed to put a bit more distance between herself and the group that had ambushed her, if any of them had survived the swarm of trackerjackers. 

Voices murmured in the distance behind her. She kept whipping her head behind herself and kept finding nothing. There was no way of knowing whether it was real or imagined. She quickened her pace regardless. One benefit of the trackerjacker poison was that the pain in her leg was starting to give way, she could hardly feel her body anymore, it was almost as if she was floating. 

But then the voices sounded like they were coming from in front of her. She paused. No, they were coming from all around her, she was surrounded. She held a knife out in defence. 

The voices turned to laughter. Then someone touched her shoulder. She spun around to find nothing but the air. Fuck. She was so vulnerable like this, not being able to discern reality. 

Her vision grew blurry at the edges and she tried to blink it away to no avail. She spun slowly in a circle, not wanting to take the chance that the laughter wasn’t a hallucination. Somehow everything seemed to slow, moving at half the speed it should, the leaves leaving trails of motion as she spun. Then everything suddenly changed into 2x speed as the trees zoomed past her and she lost balance, her feet falling out from under her. 

Strong hands caught her, keeping her from hitting the ground. Those hands were most certainly real. 

She screamed and thrashed but the hands kept a firm grip on her, caging her in close to her attacker’s body.

“Keep your voice down.” A male voice instructed. 

At the mercy of this man, she was almost certainly dead. All that she could do now was alert others of the location of this man and doom him too. And so she screamed again. 

“Hijo de puta.” He muttered under his breath and clamped a hand over her mouth. 

Her eyes shot open wide. This was it. She was about to be murdered. Panic drowned her brain but she had the sense to at least try to pull his hands away from her. That’s when she remembered she was holding a knife. The venom was making her body feel weird - liquidy -; she could hardly tell where her body ended and his began. But she gave it her best shot, wildly driving the knife behind herself. 

When the hands loosened from her and he exclaimed, “Mierda”, she knew she’d done the trick. 

She staggered forwards on her gelatinous legs but a hand clutched her wrist. She whirled around to face him and her breath caught in her throat when she saw who it was. It was the man who had attacked those district 9 kids, he was back to finish the job. 

She tried to twist her hand to stab him in the wrist but he squeezed hard and she dropped the knife to the forest floor. 

Her body shook hard in tandem with her racing heart. He was among the list of contestants she was most afraid of. 

“If you could just calm down for un momento, I am trying to help you.” 

Help her? Why would anyone want to help her? This was a trick. 

She tried to pry his hand off her, digging her feet into the dirt as she pulled. 

He sighed and easily grabbed her other wrist. She gasped and knew she was well and truly helpless.

He caught sight of her dilated pupils; he had been fairly certain that she was hallucinating when he’d found her spinning around in a circle for a good few minutes but getting a good look at her confirmed his suspicions. 

“You’re hallucinating, my friend, and you’re badly injured. Stop fighting and let me help you.”

He called her his friend? This had to be a trap. Her worst fear had been dying but when humans were trapped in an arena together with no laws, she started to realise worse things could happen to her than death. 

The edges of her vision went from blurry to dark, leaving nothing but Luis’ face. She could physically feel the poison gripping her harder, shuddering through her veins. It was scrambling her thoughts. For a moment, she forgot her situation, she forgot her fear. Her mouth hung slightly agape as she stared at the man in front of her. She marvelled at how beautiful his face was, how strong his body was. Her thoughts snapped back to reality when she remembered strong equals dangerous. 

Her legs spurred back into action, trying to push away from him, trying to kick at his legs. But her legs gave out from under her. His strong arms kept her upright. 

“Dios mios.” He exclaimed at her unrelenting fight. “I am not your enemy, conejita.” 

Coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to trust him, he would have to change his tactics.  Now that she’d repeatedly alerted others of their location, they couldn’t waste another second. 

“I am sorry about this.” He said as he gently let her drop to the floor. 

With deft fingers, he ripped some fabric from his shirt and tied it around her mouth just as she was about to let out another scream.

“I am very, very sorry.” He said again, guilt pooling in his abdomen. 

With a grunt, he lifted her up and threw her around his shoulders so the side of her body was pressed against his neck, her head was dangling over one shoulder and her legs were dangling over the other. He wrapped his hand around the back of her legs, careful to avoid the arrow heads, and clasped her wrists in the other. He trudged as quickly as he could back to his cave, praying he was fast enough to evade any pursuers. 

The trackerjacker poison made her limbs absolutely useless. She was helpless prey. But all the while, she let out muffled screams, it was all she could muster and she wasn’t ready to give up, even as her heavy eyelids started to droop and everything went dark. 

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on a cave floor with a handsome stranger kneeling in front of her. She stared at him blankly, unable to piece together what was going on. 

“I’m sorry I had to carry you here. But I promise I’m here to help you. Run if you want but I have this.” He held up his medical supplies. “And I intend on patching you up.”

She looked down at the arrowheads jutting out of her leg. Her eyebrows pulled down. How did that happen? And why couldn’t she feel a thing?

“Just don’t scream, okay? For the love of God, I’m fairly fond of this hideout.”

His hand seemed to glide through the air in slow motion as he reached to pull the gag off her mouth. She hadn’t even realised it was there. 

When she made no attempt to scream, he sighed with relief. 

“Okay, excelente.”

Her bleary eyes focused on his face. God, he was absolutely beautiful. Misty grey eyes, a strong nose, sharp cheekbones and perfect stubble. She wanted to reach out and stroke his face.

“I’m going to take these out of your legs now, okay? It’s going to hurt like hell but I need you to be quiet for me, do you think you can do that?”

She didn’t reply. His words were meaningless, she was fully entranced by his murky, almond-shaped eyes. 

He waved a hand in front of her face. 

“Huh?” She asked.

“Listen carefully, conejita, you are injured. I am going to help you. It will hurt but you will be able to take it. I just need you to make as little noise as possible, okay?”

“I’m injured?” She drawled.

“Si, mi amiga.” 

He could facepalm but admittedly, there was something cute about her delirium, or at least it was much more preferable to when she was trying to stab him. 

“Can you hold my hand?” 

“Si.”

She gripped his warm hand as he gripped the first arrowhead and started to drag it out. A strange sensation rippled through her body. It wasn’t painful perse, just deeply uncomfortable. 

“You’re doing so well.” He praised, his words causing something strange to flutter in her abdomen. 

The second arrow was a breeze now she knew what to expect. Her eyelids grew heavy again. She barely felt a thing as he disinfected the wounds and wrapped a bandage around them.

He lightly slapped her leg when he was done. “You’re all patched up now. You can rest here tonight, sleep the poison off.”

She’d been poisoned? But she felt fine, euphoric even.

“Whatever you say, handsome.” She giggled. 

That comment caught him off guard and he blamed her words on the poison. He just shook his head and laughed it off. 

She watched with excitement as he removed his jacket and was disappointed when he simply rolled it up and placed it underneath her head as a pillow. 

“Sleep well, conejita.” 

His words gave her permission to let go, and she fell into the black nothingness of exhaustion. 

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

I'm gonna tag some people who might be interested. Lmk if you want to be removed or added from this tag list! :3

Tag list: @asdfav @aguamarinee @freshlemontea @heydreamchild

#luis serra x reader #luis sera x reader #luis serra x you #luis serra #luis serra navarro

[sophieinwonderland]

On RWBY's Klein Sieben, and system jokes...

When looking for more information about Klein's DID, I found this post which bothered me for several reasons. The post was about RWBY's depiction of mental health overall, and it made a lot of good points on other disorders, and a lot of bad points.

But I only care about the part on Klein.

First, I think that it's silly to expect mental disorders to be called by name in a fantasy setting. In contemporary settings, you should absolutely confirm disorders the characters have by name. But hearing someone talk about DID, PTSD, Autism or Schizophrenia is going to immediately take you out of a fantasy story.

It's the same reason Shallan in The Stormlight Archive is only technically confirmed to have DID outside of the story.

But my bigger problem comes down to the argument revolving around using the disability as a joke. The reason is that these are the same types of jokes systems make all the time.

I've been in the plural community for a couple years, and jokes about not being able to decide on little things with the rest of the system, or sharing personal experiences where one headmate will order something at a restaurant only to switch out and leave the next headmate with a plate of something they don't actually like, are super common.

Plenty of system jokes and memes utilize this same premise.

In a comedy show like (the non-canon) RWBY Chibi, it makes sense for similar jokes to be made using a similar premise as well.

So what is the issue then? If systems make these same jokes about themselves, is it WHO is making the jokes? Are system jokes only acceptable when they come from verified systems?

Pluralphobia And The Danger of Gatekeeping Who Can Make Plural Jokes in Media

I can understand that some people are burned and are wary of how singlets will handle plurality in media.

I think that there's an idea with some that if you're not a system, then you can't write jokes about systems or plurality in media. And I think this thought process is extremely dangerous to the plural community.

It places actual plural writers into a position where the only way they're allowed to write about plurality is by publicly disclosing their own to the world.

This is dangerous with any sort of plurality. Whether DID, tulpas, spiritual, etc. Publicly revealing that information can endanger your relationships with friends and family. It can make you a target of harassment. (Look at what happened to Aimkid.) It even can endanger job prospects.

In the case of disclosing DID, this would be disclosing that you likely had severe trauma as a child, which could lead to public denial from family members who didn't know, or were themselves responsible.

An environment where plurals have to be out of the closet to make plural content is a dangerous one for everybody.

The Solution: Combating Singlet Normativity

Here's my solution: Criticize every work of media that features plurality with the understanding that someone in the writer's room could be plural.

Currently, we live in a singletnormative world where everyone is assumed to be a singlet unless otherwise specified. We need to break this perception. We need to do this by normalizing systemhood.

And statistically, it's not like it's that improbable. Some high estimates of DID show it appear in as much as 3% of the population. There are several writers involved in RWBY. And plurals tend to be drawn to writing plural characters, making it statistically more likely at least one of the people who created Klein could have DID or OSDD themselves.

Maybe one or more of the writers have DID. Maybe they don't. But if you treat every writer as if they're a singlet when you don't know if they're plural or not, because you see singlet as the default, you create an environment where closeted plurals can't write about their own experiences in fiction.

The Importance of Klein

In the RTX video that confirmed Klein had DID, the person asking the question had DID themselves and talked about how happy it made them to see someone like them. To get a character they could relate to, one that's not portrayed as a villain as so many other DID characters tend to be in media.

Maybe Klein isn't perfect representation, and I'm sure some people will take issue with some aspects of his portrayal, but no representation is ever going to be perfect.

What matters is that Klein presented a character that some DID systems out there could relate to and see themselves in, in a way that doesn't stigmatize or demonize the disorder. And on top of that, he's a beloved character by most of the fandom which can hopefully build acceptance of real life plurality. And that's something that should be celebrated.

This Plural Acceptance Week, I would love to help create a positive environment in the plural community that encourages systems to write their own Kleins. To make the next character that systems can connect with like this person connected with Klein. Whether DID systems, endogenic systems, tulpas, daemonists, etc. We should strive to support positive plural characters in media where we see them.

More Klein from RWBY Chibi

Since I showed the episode with him ordering noodles, which was his second appearance in RWBY Chibi, I thought it would also be fun to share his introduction to the Chibi series too!

#syscourse #rwby #rwby klein sieben #klein sieben #pluralgang #plural system #plural #plurality #endogenic #system #multiplicity #systems #endogenic system #plural pride #plural positivity #system stuff #rwby klein #actually plural #sysblr #actually a system #Youtube

[james-vi-stan-blog]

why do I feel like the previous anon was a dig at me for asking questions about the kind of people James and George were😃I could be wrong though.

my only thing about why I’m hoping all of them in the show will show their flaws or how much of a bad person they can be is because I know it’ll be so much easier for people to understand or even sympathize with George simply because Nicholas is playing him. I’ve probably mentioned this before but I fully believe it has something to do with looks.

Nicholas is incredibly attractive so a lot of people feel more inclined or gravitate towards his character to feel sympathy, maybe defend, or ‘babygirl’ George even through problematic issues he’s had (that might be in the show but idk what they’ll include) but compared to Tony portraying James? I don’t think he’s going to get that same energy or thought process because his character might be criticized more simply because some people don’t find Tony/James attractive. I’ve seen this happen many times and it’s just odd people haven’t picked up on that.

I’m not saying people aren’t allowed to make up their own opinions about how they perceive the the characters or force my opinions onto others. I honestly can say that I feel sympathy for George and James (even Mary) but I think a lot of people aren’t going to realize how much looks would come into play when their formulating their opinions about the characters.

I’m sorry if I’m not making any sense, I have a hard time writing my thoughts! also I’m not trying to start anything so I hope this doesn’t come across as rude or anything😭

-✨

I don't think asking "good or bad" type questions is necessarily pointless… after all, people do have vices and virtues, and they can make good, bad, or downright evil decisions. I think we can even evaluate relative badness to some extent (like the 5th Earl of Bothwell, there's a phenomenally shitty person). Rather, it's a binary vision of good and bad guys that's toxic for the study of history. I think it's also limiting for media. If you (general you, not you, ✨) are going into Mary & George just looking to be entertained, there's no need to have several essays cited that George Villiers Is A Good Person™ Actually before you've even sat down. Not every story is meant to be didactical. What is about to unfold in front of you could be a villain's tale, some complex shade of tragedy, etc.

But to the main thrust of your ask, honestly… I too worry about this. The halo effect and lookism are well-documented phenomena (known and understood even in the period itself… I mean… why was short, stuttering, shy Baby Charles so invested in his iconography, but to depict himself as strong, masculine, handsome, and therefore virtuous and deserving to rule!!!) and also applies to media depictions of historical figures. It's totally a real thing that when a historical figure gets played by a popular actor, people will tend to be softer on that character, not even purely due to "beauty = goodness", but also because the pleasure of the visual spectacle inclines us to excuse what we're seeing. (Actually, even outside the appearance of the actors, people tend enormously to excuse the actions of a protagonist. It's just sort of an effect of the medium.)

That said, I believe the vast majority of people who say "I support George's rights and George's wrongs!" are just being silly and having fun and are perfectly capable of rationally judging what they're watching. You guys are great, please have a great time, tell your friends about the show so that more people learn about James VI and the Villiers family!!

But yeah, rarely there's… I don't go on Shitter but saw a screenshot of someone saying they hoped Somerset/Buckingham would be the main ship because Laurie Davidson is hotter and they don't want to watch an "ugly" (??) "old man fuck" and that just disheartened and disgusted me. You know, gayness doesn't exist to be hot and entertaining. Queer stories serve more purposes than fetish fuel for oglers. And this story is about real people who actually existed…

Also, I've got thoughts about people who think it's wrong and disgusting for James to have fallen in love with handsome George Villiers but also vociferously and openly thirst over Nicholas Galitzine and want to see him naked in queer roles. 😑

Anyway I'm happy to see these figures in almost any interpretation but I really hope George Villiers will be allowed to be magnificently terrible because… c'mon… it's George Villiers. The icon. The legend. The Duke of Buckingham himself. I feel like watering down his character would be cheating him of the glory he's due.

#mary & george #james's weird stan rambles again

[class1akids]

Hi. I can well understand your frustration about no one being concerned about Shouto as soon as he passed out. I was hurt too, as a fan of Shouto (I now follow the serie for him and BKTD). I really feel hopeful, though. And that’s because I don't want to think that HK's message is that those who grow up in an abusive family are destined to be alone and suffer without having any kind of support. Maybe it's because it's a topic that touches me personally, but I think it would really be a wrong message not to give Shouto, as a character who has suffered because of his family, a more positive, somewhat more hopeful ending in which so many kids who were born and raised in difficult situations and maybe hope for something better can mirror. I hope I have explained myself well (lately everything is subject to misunderstanding on social media)

P.s thousand kudos to Iida who has been a true friend. I don't mind the idea that he chose that battlefield specifically to give emotional support to Shouto

Yeah, I am also hopeful (somewhat) that "Rising" is not the end of his character arc - especially being left in such a grim place.

But at the same time the fear is in me, because he's done it before. After the war was a really exciting time to explore Shouto's POV or feelings, the whole fall-out of the Dabi reveal, but HK really really dropped the ball on the Todorokis there.

And during that time, I lost a lot of my confidence in his writing. I think he made several big mistakes with Shouto's arc. One was certainly letting him down during Dark Deku arc. But also I think it was a huge mistake how he never let Shouto explore himself outside of Endeavor.

I look at how Bakugou's relationship with BJ developed, or Tokoyami with Hawks or Deku getting basically a whole harem of mentors. And Shouto all that time is left with Endeavor. It's really detrimental to his character being forced into that abusive relationship and PTSD trigger without ever having the space to grow anywhere else or people to expose him to a different POV. It leaves him stewing in a stagnant relationship.

And to this day, it makes me sick to the stomach when I see art of Shouto having Endeavor depicted as his mentor, to parallel Bakugou - BJ or even worse Deku - All Might. As if there was any kind of similarities between these relationship. As if suddenly Endeavor's decade long abuse of Shouto is just "poof" a cute memory.

#c1a asks #todoroki shouto #i am at a lowpoint in my trust of horikoshi #when it comes to shouto #he's made many mistakes

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hi! Would you be able to talk a bit about how you see Sara's relationship with Abby Fisher?

hi, anon!

so i will warn you up front: i am a great hater of the later seasons of csi and don't really have anything nice to say about them. that so, this answer is pretty critical of the writing of episode 15x12 "dead woods" and its depiction of sara and abby's relationship.

to give a "desalinized" short version of what i say below here: i actually like the impulse behind the whole "sara has a relationship with a foster kid" storyline; i just don't think the writers executed the idea well. logistically, the whole thing has more than a few holes. also, the vibes are off. ultimately, i have a difficult time emotionally investing because the implied depth just isn't there.

for a much saltier (and longer) explanation, click the "keep reading."

__

so here's the thing: one of the many skills which the writers of the later seasons of the show lacked was the ability to imply depth in their narratives.

while most of the time, this deficiency manifested in the form of them failing to provide any kind of contextual details about the characters' lives outside of work—would it have killed them to have sara occasionally mention visiting grissom or to every once in a while show her on the phone with him past s11?—it also sometimes did so in the form of them attempting to shoehorn in biographical information for the established characters that either contradicted or at least didn't mesh well with previously related canonical facts (e.g., when they accidentally changed sara's birthday, only to later change it back again).

and, to me, the whole abby fisher storyline falls into that latter category.

don't get me wrong: on paper, i think having sara connect with a foster child and mentor her is a really wonderful idea. executed properly, it could have been a source for some truly interesting character development for her—which, god knows, in the later seasons, she was severely lacking!—and may have even been something healing for her.

it's just—

to my mind, the way the storyline was written is so unbelievable and ultimately incongruent from sara's previously established character history that i can't really buy into it, either intellectually or emotionally.

problem #1 is the supposed timeline of it all.

within the episode, we learn that sara works the fisher case and first meets abby on 08.20.04, as is shown by the dates on the evidence photos taken at the original scene. however, that date falls right during the same interval when sara is supposedly on vacation between s4 and s5 (see episodes 04x23 "bloodlines" and 05x01 "viva las vegas").

and i know, i know! really, that discrepancy is such a small thing that only a truly nitpicky fan like myself might even notice!

i should probably just let it go.

but the thing is, it's not just an issue of sara not technically being in vegas or around to work the case at that time but also one of her not being in the right mental/emotional state to be able open up to a traumatized child then, either.

more on that point below.

furthermore, it's also not the only "fudge" of its kind.

in fact, it's actually indicative of a more general inattention to detail on the parts of the writers.

anthony zuiker took the lead writing credit for this episode, and, honestly, he's somewhat notorious for not knowing his own show's canon. he prides himself on being a big picture "ideas" guy, not a minutiae/details guy, and sometimes, the fact that he isn't the latter thing is really, really obvious. i mean, this is the same man who had to crowdsource major story arc recaps from fans on twitter to remind him of what had been going on on his own show before he wrote the series finale, for chrissake! and even then, he still got a bunch of the "fine print" stuff, like grissom not knowing who russell is, wrong.

this error being just one among many makes me less willing to ignore and/or gloss over it.

beyond the issue of sara's initial meeting with abby not fitting the timeline of the earlier seasons, equally as improbable is the notion that sara maintains regular contact with abby after they first meet.

for one thing, in the early seasons of the show when sara supposedly first meets abby, sara is a notorious workaholic who maxes out on overtime every month. if she's working 70+ hours a week on a graveyard schedule, when is she making time to have visits with this kid—and especially considering that said visits likely have to be scheduled long in advanced and supervised (because there are very strict rules in place regarding how noncustodial adults interact with kids in the foster care system), meaning she can't just swing by for a quick hello after a double shift?

considering that catherine can barely find the time to see her own biological daughter, of whom she has sole custody after early s3, when is sara fitting in hours and hours with abby, to whom she has incredibly restricted access, as per the rules and logistics of the foster care system?

also, for another thing, how does this relationship fit in with all of the canonical events of s5-15?

for example, when sara is recovering from her injuries following her abduction by the miniature killer in s8, what does she tell eight-year-old abby? does she see her during that time or do they go several months without any contact, until sara is healed up enough not to have to explain anything to her? if they don't see each other, what kind of excuses does sara make? if they do see each other, how does sara explain the situation? does she admit she nearly died at the hands of a murderer, knowing how triggering that information might be for abby to hear? or does she lie? or tell some sanitized version of the truth ("i had a bad accident, but i'm okay now")?

and what about the grissom of it all? do he and abby ever meet? if so, when? do they ever spend quality time together and/or develop any kind of relationship, especially after grissom and sara get married? if so, how does sara break the news to a fourteen-year-old abby of the divorce? does abby get any kind of closure for grissom not being a part of her life anymore?

for yet another thing, how does this idea (of sara being a regular presence in abby's life for ten years) fit with sara's nomadic lifestyle in the later seasons of the show, plus abby's general status as a foster child?

not only does sara spend significant amounts of time away from vegas between 2004 and 2014 (especially during s8, s9, s10, and s11), which would make it difficult for her to keep in touch with abby just on her side of things, but based on some of abby and her foster mother's dialogue in episode 15x12 "dead woods," it also seems that abby has only come into her placement with the higgins family fairly recently, perhaps within just the past few years or so, which means that prior to living with them, she likely moves around a lot.

the idea that sara could even keep track of this girl over the years—especially given the privacy laws surrounding foster kids—isn't particularly realistic.

one of the main things former foster kids (and especially those who are in "traditional foster care" as opposed to "kinship care") complain about is the inconsistency of the lifestyle and the fact that people are there one day and gone the next.

while the child protective services agency (cps) does their best to prevent foster kids from having to move placements, over a third of foster kids experience changes to their living arrangements at least three times per year (and some experience even more).

and, again, while cps generally tries to keep kids from having to move schools/districts when their placements change, if they can avoid it, they often don't have a choice; if the kid has been living in and attending school in henderson and the only available placement for them is in reno, then there's not much to be done but to uproot their whole life and ship them 450 miles across the state to their new home.

furthermore, to protect the privacy and safety of foster children, neither cps nor foster families are allowed to give out personal information about foster children—including their placement addresses—to anyone who doesn't have direct "need-to-know" involvement in their case (which would mostly just be custodial caretakers, school officials, and medical professionals).

all of the above so, it would likely be very, very difficult for sara to maintain a relationship with abby, especially over the course of a decade.

that girl has likely been in multiple placements in multiple locations (some of them not in clark county) since sara has known her, and since sara doesn't—even as law enforcement—fall into any of those "need to know" categories of persons who legally receive updates about abby's whereabouts when she gets reassigned, she probably wouldn't be able to follow her movements.

however, even if sara were somehow to (improbably) maintain contact with abby between 2004 and 2007, once sara skipped town and went "off the grid" circa episode 08x07 "goodbye & good luck" and/or later episode 09x02 "the happy place," the second abby moved placements, she likely wouldn't be able to find her again (and especially considering that, at the time, abby would be just eight or nine years-old and wouldn't have a cell phone or email account she could use to reach out to sara on her end of things).

the whole scenario lacks veracity, even with what sara herself has previously said about her own experiences in foster care.

for example, in episode 07x16 "monster in the box," sara remarks to grissom on how hard it is to keep up with foster kids due to spotty record-keeping.

—and that's the main problem, really.

beyond the whole "how would this relationship even work?" of the thing, there is also the issue of characterization—a question of "would sara even behave in this manner?", the answer to which i think, ultimately, is no.

i could forgive all of the logistical errors and the farfetchedness of the situation if the story itself didn't feel so antithetical to sara's character history and jar with everything we know about her development.

see, episode 15x12 "dead woods" suggests that sara sees abby very regularly and plays a prominent mentoring role in her life, enough to know who her boyfriend is—and have beef with him!—and to understand her complicated feelings about her foster family. they supposedly go to concerts together and hang out with some frequency. theirs is an emotionally open and socially intimate connection.

the implication is that sara is almost like a mother to abby—someone abby is even closer to and more highly esteems than her current foster (and soon to be adoptive) mom, joanna higgins; the first person she thinks to call for when she's in trouble.

but that implication doesn't fit with sara's character arc.

see, it's not that i doubt that the sara of 2014 could be open enough to bond with a traumatized foster kid over their shared life experiences and serve as a touchstone for her.

it's that i doubt the sara of 2004 would.

the sara of 2004—and especially the summer of 2004, six months prior to the events of episode 05x13 "nesting dolls"—wouldn't respond to seeing a little girl whose trauma so closely mirrors her own by reaching out to her, forming a deep connection based in mutual disclosure, and involving herself as a surrogate mother-figure in her life.

i'm not saying sara doesn't have the capacity to be nurturing—i mean, i am the person writing a huge geek!baby au series, the latest installment of which is all about sara discovering just how strong her maternal instincts actually are—or that she wouldn't feel for the kid or want to help her.

rather, i'm saying she just wouldn't be able to bring herself to get that close.

think of the analog situation: brenda collins in episode 01x07 "blood drops."

sara has such a difficult time even being around that kid and looking her in the eyes to start off with, all because she knows, on a deeply personal level, what it feels like to be her.

it's not that she's not empathetic toward brenda and her situation.

to the contrary: she can feel her pain all too keenly! she cares all too much!

that's why it's so painful for her to even acknowledge brenda's existence.

her feelings are still too raw for her to really force herself to interface.

though in that case, she does eventually end up dropping her guard and stepping up to advocate for brenda as needed, she only ultimately does so because grissom compels her to act as brenda's chaperone.

had he not given her that assignment and she instead been left to her own devices, she wouldn't ever have gotten close to the girl.

not of her own volition.

she only starts to show that external level of care because she's made to.

and what's noteworthy is that even when she does show it, she still conceals the reason why she is doing so—from grissom, from the rest of the team, and even from brenda herself.

though she behaves very compassionately toward brenda, she never makes their interactions personal. she never lets on that she understands what brenda is going through. she never transgresses the boundaries of what would be considered the expected behavior for any safe and caring adult looking after a traumatized child under the circumstances.

while we as fans can retroactively read her backstory into her actions throughout that episode, she as a character still plays her cards so close to her chest that no one else within the universe of the show can even think about reading them.

indeed, no one but grissom even really notices she's holding them.

and that's because she isn't ready to go "all in" in that way yet.

she isn't to a place where she is ready to face her own trauma, much less confess to it, much less process it—which is what would be required of her were she to allow herself to get any closer to brenda than she actually does.

—which brings us back to abby.

the sara of 2004 hasn't yet reached a place where she is ready to reckon with her childhood trauma yet.

though she wants to—desperately—and will eventually get to the point where she is willing to at least talk about it with grissom (see episode 05x13 "nesting dolls"), honestly, it will still be years before she is finally able to lay her "ghosts" fully to rest (see her letter in episode 08x07 "goodbye & good luck").

and that being the case—

well, i just can't imagine her being as emotionally available to abby as episode 15x12 "dead woods" suggests is the case.

not early on.

not when she would have initially been forming that bond.

that flashback scene from the hospital room where she ends up hugging five-year-old abby?

i can believe that moment could happen.

all but taken by surprise as she is, sara could and would be unguarded enough to open her arms to that little girl and offer her some comfort; she wouldn't reject someone that vulnerable, no matter how scared she was herself. she would recognize all she needed to be right then was a steady shoulder to weep on and a soft voice to reassure. she could hold abby for that moment and validate her cries for her mother.

but beyond that initial instance of connection?

i just can't see 2004 sara continuing to have contact with abby after the case had concluded.

watching that girl be absorbed into the foster care system while grieving the loss of her parents and grappling with the nature of her father's (alleged) crimes would just hit too close to home for sara—and especially at a time when she is herself really struggling with her own trauma.

lest we forget, during the summer between s4 and s5, sara is attending mandatory peap sessions, spending significant time away from the lab on much-needed vacation, and struggling to get her life/career back on track in the wake of her s4 depression and problematic alcoholic usage.

she's not exactly doing hot™ herself.

she doesn't really have much water in her emotional well to draw from in order to share with somebody else.

moreover, she still, to date, has never told anyone about her childhood. she doesn't even yet have the words to talk about it (see her speech to the mirror in episode 05x01 "viva las vegas").

so for as much as her heart undoubtedly goes out to abby, i just can't see her incorporating abby into her life to the degree that episode 15x12 "dead woods" suggests that she does.

it's a "please secure your mask before assisting others" kind of situation with her, you know?

she's still dealing with her own issues and isn't in a state to help someone else at that point—and especially not an incredibly vulnerable child.

and, honestly, i think she'd recognize as much.

she'd know she couldn't be what abby probably would need her to be at that time—and that being so, i can't really see her purposefully inserting herself into abby's world.

she'd figure abby would be better left to "the professionals."

i think the story we're told in episode 15x12 "dead woods" forgets just how jagged the sara of 2004's edges are; it acts as if she has the same emotional capacity back then as she does in 2014, and the fact is, she just doesn't.

had sara met abby in s10 or s11 when she a) was mentally healthy and emotionally stable; b) had gotten some closure on her childhood trauma; and c) had lots of free time on her hands given her whole "long-distance marriage" situation with grissom, then i could see her being able to open up to abby and thrive in a mentorship role with her in the way canon implies she does.

but that's not the story episode 15x12 "dead woods" tells.

it insists that a much younger, much more mixed-up, much less self-actualized sara somehow manages to step into the role of surrogate mother for a physically and psychologically-wounded child whose trauma closely mirrors her own and is able to say and do all the right things, to the point where that child comes to trust her implicitly.

and to me? that's a hard story to believe.

it requires an almost insurmountable suspension of my critical thinking and understanding of sara's character arc.

—especially considering how many needs abby likely has at the time when sara is first getting to know her.

traumatized children require a special brand of tlc.

one of the most important parts of having a relationship with them (as an adult) is to offer them as much stability as possible—meaning if you say you're going to see them, you have to show up; you can't miss the appointment, even if you end up getting pulled onto a double or triple shift; even if you're maybe having a shit mental health day yourself. failure to follow through can result in an erosion of their trust in you and cause setbacks for them in their recovery.

you also have to be very patient and help them regulate what are sometimes some very big emotions. traumatized kids will frequently throw tantrums or act out. they'll oftentimes be whiny or clingy. they'll enact age-inappropriate behaviors. and as the adult in the relationship, you have to meet them where they are, soothe them, and redirect those behaviors once they're calm enough. to do so, you must yourself manage your own emotions. you have to have awareness of the situation and be able to offer them what they need, whether it be cuddles or verbal reassurance or cognitive tools to help them process what they're feeling.

while of course if you as a caretaker or otherwise invested adult can apologize if you make mistakes and do your best to make amends, the point is that you need to be consistent and selfless and place the needs of the child first. and if you're struggling a lot yourself, then you need to make a judgment call about whether your presence will ultimately hurt the child; if so, you need to remove yourself from the situation and get your shit together before you resume interacting with them.

it takes a lot of energy and insight to navigate those kinds of relationships.

again, i'm not saying sara isn't empathetic or that she is incapable of being there for someone who's been traumatized—her ability to step up for members of her team (like nick and greg) after they go through various hardships proves she is more than equal to the task of offering support as needed—but i am saying that i'm not sure the sara of 2004 would choose to voluntarily place herself into that role; not when she has herself been that kid and knows what the stakes are.

realizing how she tends to react in situations where she's triggered, and realizing that just being around abby triggers her, i think she'd opt to stay away (probably more on a subconscious level than a conscious one).

she wouldn't want to screw up.

she wouldn't want to hurt abby because she was "too in her own feelings."

—which i suppose brings me to my last major objection to the whole sara and abby dynamic, which is just how the dynamic itself is written.

like i said: i'm not at all opposed to the idea of sara acting quasi-maternal; i think she probably does have that capacity in her, however deeply sublimated it may be.

i just feel like—once again—the execution in this case is flawed.

the sara of episode 15x12 "dead woods" seems almost strident in her "mama bear" role with abby. apparently, she has lectured abby about her ne'er-do-well boyfriend on more than one occasion. she even serves as a kind of liaison between abby and joanna, confident she has a better read on abby's feelings than joanna does. which, albeit, is a view with which joanna herself seems to concur. she doesn't hesitate to chase abby's shithead boyfriend down the hall at pd and all but assault him or to take abby out on a saturday night, seemingly without asking anyone's permission. though of course concerned about abby's feelings, she's noticeably forward in all of their interactions. she doesn't hesitate to offer advice or even to try to lay down ground rules.

—which, on a superficial level, could be a valid interpretation of how sara tends to love.

i mean, sara has always been a "heart on her sleeve," "in with both feet" kind of gal, just in general. she does tend to love fiercely and be protective of "her people."

right?

right?

i mean, kind of.

in a "broad strokes" sort of way.

but when you take a slightly more nuanced view of her and how she expresses love, her behavior toward abby actually feels somewhat off. it's too aggressive, in a lot of ways. too "in your face."

just like so much of her characterization of the later seasons, it comes across as inexact, like a flattened-out version of her actual personality, with all of the details and complexities of her sanded off.

yes, sara loves deeply and is very emotional by nature. yes, she has a strong sense of what's right and doesn't back down from doing what she thinks is needed. but she also gives the people she loves space and doesn't typically impose on them.

see, for example, the scene in episode 07x06 "burn out," where she both protects greg and redirects grissom's misplaced anger off of him and is very subtle in how she does so, showing great tenderness toward both parties.

she also tends to "know her role."

see, for example, in episode 10x01 "family affair": when she points out that catherine is lacking a "right-hand man," she doesn't attempt to install herself in that position, realizing it's not hers to fill not only for logistical reasons (i.e., because she is only in town temporarily) but also because she and catherine don't have that kind of dynamic with each other; instead, she just gently encourages catherine to seek out someone she trusts and is ultimately very glad to see her eventually select nick.

i have no doubt that sara loves abby and cares very much for her well-being, but i've also got to believe that even for as much as she loves and cares about her, she would always remain highly aware that she was not actually her mother, either foster or adoptive.

and to me, that awareness would cause her to act differently than what we see in canon—less vehement and imposing; less "in the driver's seat" and more "in the passenger's."

there'd be if not some reticence on her part—though maybe that, too—at least some deference.

sara would realize: the people who should be setting rules for abby and finalizing major life decisions with her are her foster (soon to be adoptive) parents, who play a role in her daily life that sara herself doesn't.

and, yes, sara has known abby for ten years while they've only known her for a few years at most, but that's why it would be all the more imperative for sara to make that demarcation very clear for everyone involved, particularly as the higgins family intends to adopt abby and will be her full-time guardians for the next several years.

based on her own experiences in foster care, i think sara would likely understand the importance of setting boundaries and making it clear to abby that though she is her friend and is happy to offer both a listening ear and advice, she is not her parent.

this delineation would have been especially crucial for sara to draw when abby was younger, so as not to inadvertently get her hopes up that sara was going to foster or adopt her.

again, while she could still be (and likely would still be) very nurturing to abby, i just don't see her having that much of an authority role in abby's life.

it just feels like too much of an overstep with a kid she probably only sees a couple of times a month at most* and who, given that she is a foster child, probably needs clearly-drawn relationship boundaries with the adults in her life in order to feel secure.

* even ignoring all of the real life logistics that would make it impossible for them to remain in such close contact.

the last thing sara would ever want to do would be to confuse abby or give her unrealistic expectations or to impose on/complicate/undermine her relationship with her foster family.

so, to me, if it were actually written with sara's core characterization in mind, then sara's relationship with abby would be one with a lot more gentle questioning in it as opposed to brash pronouncements. it'd be less "i told you you have to dump that guy!" and more "what exactly do you see in him? i'm genuinely interested to know." there'd be a pinch more "well, why don't you ask joanna?" and maybe some self-conscious awkwardness at the realization that, yes, in some situations she does know abby better because she's known her longer (but that still doesn't make her "mom").

above everything, sara would be very conscientious about not screwing up™.

she'd remember just how vulnerable being in foster care makes a kid. she'd understand abby was traumatized and likely has attachment issues galore. "sometimes i look for validation in inappropriate places," anyone? she would have doubts about her own capabilities to be as selfless and emotionally available as she would need to be for abby's sake, and, even though she would ultimately find both the strength and the wisdom to step up, she would always remain just a little bit cautious of herself.

she'd consider there are reasons why, even for all the love she has for abby and all she wants to be a part of her life, she never does foster or adopt her herself; that there are certain things she can't give or be, whether it's the time or just the "totality" of that kind of parent-child relationship.

even after ten years, she'd be careful not to cross the wires between "friend/mentor" and "parent."

so.

all of the above said, for as much as i want to like sara's relationship with abby in episode 15x12 "dead woods," to me, it just ultimately doesn't hit.

it feels like something poorly contrived and even more poorly executed.

like so much of the characterization of the later seasons, it falls about two inches to the left of who and what sara actually is and how she would really behave.

in a better world where the later seasons' writers actually knew what they were doing, i would have loved to have seen this storyline done differently.

instead of trying to retroactively insert a relationship with a foster kid into the already established show canon, why not show it develop in real time, starting in s15?

rather than saying, "sara has had this kid in her life all along. you just never knew about it before now!", let the audience watch her meet the kid and slowly get to know her.

let us observe that initial awkwardness. let us see sara's struggle with how much she ought to say regarding her own situation and how much she should keep submerged. let us be present for the moments when sara summons her courage to step up and be vulnerable in ways she didn't realize she was capable of. earn the emotional connection between them. allow the love to grow up organically.

and, yeah, i know, doing things that way would make it impossible to play out the "ten years later, abby's dad gets posthumously exonerated!" storyline of episode 15x12 "dead woods."

but, honestly? that plot was not very well done anyhow, so i don't think it'd be a great loss to sacrifice it in favor of giving sara some actual long-lasting character development.

make sara's interaction with the foster kid into a full-on arc. it could be really good—much more so than what we actually get in canon, which, frankly, just falls flat on multiple levels.

the writers tried to imply depth that just wasn't there and didn't succeed.

anyway.

enough salt out of me; we've got a whole mine here by now.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #** #my meta #meta: csi #meta: sara #csiverse #later seasons #15x12 #let's talk shop

[dreams-and-drabbles]

New Anon here again, the one that asked for recent al haitham one, I've love it! let's asked for something wholesome, like a break from reading those Angsty stuff, am I right ? So themes are (Capitano X Bakery reader) Op is like this baker, like somehow one day they were working on a small bakery in snezhnaya they owned, suddenly being assign to be the Harbingers personal baker (because Columbina convinced Knave to make her one). Now here we are, they improvised took out their old recipe book and observed what the Harbingers would like till they figure it out. But one particular Harbinger stuck out to them the most, not only was he hard to read but also rather mysterious thanks to that masked on, hard to read the man's expression if we can't see his face, so their mission is to find what Capitano likes, no matter how rather annoying they can be. Or the amount of times they stood over the side of his bed watching him sleep. Or even follow him around, If they crazy enough to write down notes while watching dottore experiment on something. they'll figure it out! Mwuahaha! That's all. Honestly don't follow every verdict of this just have fun^^!

Oh my, oh my! Welcome back, anon! Such a fun idea, too! I’d be happy to write this! So, it took a bit, haha! I may have gotten a little toooo invested in the plot, but I hope you like it!

Sugar Rush

🍬 FATUI HARBINGERS X GN! READER 🍬

[F/N] sighed, flipping the sign on the door. The tangy smell of orange and cranberry flit through the air, as they made their final rounds inside the building.

The building in question, was a small brick shop. From the outside it didn’t look like anything special, but the shop was one of the most well known, in the small countryside town.

The interior was painted a lovely cream, with small beige flowers zigzagging across in a pattern. Several dark oak tables were spaced out across the front of the shop, a lacy white tablecloth decorating each of them. On the building’s walls hung several paintings, each of them depicting a variety of different flowers.

The front door opened with a chime, and [F/N] scurried out from the back, where they’d been removing a batch of cranberry orange muffins from a small brick stove.

They waved at the person entering with a smile, their curiosity piqued when they noticed the figure wasn’t one they’d seen before.

[F/N] set the tray down, hurrying to greet their customer properly.

“Welcome! Is there anything I can help you with?” They greeted, their tone chipper.

The figure glanced at them, and [F/N] felt as though they’d overlooked something—

The customer was a seemingly young girl of petite stature, her face was rather doll-like, and golden hair fell down her back in waves.

The girl smiled at them, and [F/N] felt chills cross their spine.

“Yes. Are you the owner?”

The girl asked, her tone sweet.

[F/N] shook themselves from those thoughts, offering the girl a small smile.

“Yes, I am. Would you like to order something?”

The girl’s lips curled upwards and she glanced around, before nodding.

“Yes, I think so. Could I get one of those muffins please?”

She asked, her tone soft.

[F/N] nodded, packaging one of the muffins and passing the bag to the girl with a smile.

She glanced at [F/N] a glint in her eyes, as she handed them a few mora.

“A word of advice… You should really pay more attention to your surroundings. You might miss something important and well, that would be just dreadful.”

The girl chirped, leaving [F/N] staring after her in confusion. It was only when they closed shop that night that the reason for their feeling hit them, as they recalled the description of the Harbingers…

That girl had been the Knave…

Oh. Oh dear.

Well, fortunately for them, she’d been tolerant of their ignorance…

She’d even warned them, so that was good…

Right?

After that particular encounter, [F/N] had taken it upon themselves to familiarize themselves with the defining features of each harbinger.

While they doubted they’d ever end up encountering one of them again, they didn’t dare make the same mistake.

Their doubt proved wrong as a week later, the Knave returned, this time dragging along another one of the Harbingers—

The Fair Lady, [F/N]’s mind supplied—

La Signora.

The harbinger in question looked positively bored as she glanced around the bakery, and [F/N] greeted both of them with a polite bow.

The Knave clapped her hands together, a smile spreading out across her face.

“Oh! Look at that!They took my advice! How incredibly sweet!”

The taller of the two women rolled her eyes, scoffing at the girl’s explanation.

Pale blue eyes looked over [F/N]’s figure, before narrowing.

“The cranberry orange muffin the Knave brought back, I’d like one of them, and ah…��

The Harbinger trailed off, her gaze landing on the cake display, before her gaze returned to [F/N].

“And a slice of the opera cake.”

[F/N] nodded, immediately rushing to grab the pastries La Signora had requested.

They packaged them neatly, handing the two small packages to the harbinger with a polite smile.

The Harbinger’s gaze fell on their hands, before she clicked her tongue, and left the bakery with a swoop of her cloak.

[F/N] watched the Harbinger leave, with a carefully schooled expression.

They didn’t dare to let their irritation show.

The Knave cackled, the high pitched laughter eerie, and not at all adding up with her admittedly cute appearance.

“Don’t mind my coworker, [F/N]. It’s typical of her to leave in such a manner. As much as she gets on Tartaglia about his flare for drama, she’s quite dramatic herself. Tsk, tsk… Oh, dear me! You’re not acquainted with my coworkers, are you? Do pardon my rudeness.”

The Knave rambled, her tone equal parts soft and cold.

[F/N] nodded, their brows furrowing slightly.

“Of course, is there anything you’d like to order?”

They ask, their tone slow and cautious.

The Knave grinned, before shaking her head, and skipping out the front door.

When [F/N] was sure both Harbingers were out of earshot, they let out a shaky breath.

They buried their face in their hands, their tone despairing.

“What did I do to deserve this…?”

A deep chuckle broke them from their thoughts, and their gaze quickly snapped to the door.

They resisted the urge to curse, recognizing yet another Harbinger propped against the Bakery’s front door.

“Perhaps, if your baking was not so delectable, they wouldn’t bother you as much. I apologize for the interruption, but I found myself curious. The Knave’s been quite distracted recently, which I assume was your fault. I caught her and Signora slipping in here this morning.”

[F/N]’a mouth went dry as they took in the rather imposing form of Dottore.

The Second of The Fatui Harbingers…

Their entire being begged them to run, to get away, to—

They shook themselves from their thoughts, watching as the Harbinger made his way through the kitchen. He stopped once, picking up an eclair from one of the display cases, and biting into it.

[F/N] once again resists the urge to scowl, watching as the Harbinger wiped the cream from his lips.

“How fascinating… Well, I can certainly see the charm. I’m sure we’ll see cross paths again, [F/N]. Until then.”

He said, waving lazily over his shoulder, and strolling out the door.

[F/N]’s eyes narrowed angrily after he left, and they muttered an angry stream of curses under their breath.

Surprisingly, after this incident, [F/N] doesn’t see any of the Harbingers again.

They’re almost convinced that they’d been forgotten, when around a month or so later, they’re greeted by the sight of The Knave.

Accompanying them is a figure who couldn’t be anyone other than Columbina…

The Knave grins, waving at them excitedly.

“Is this the one, Sandrone?” Columbina asks, her tone a soft coo.

The Knave’s eyes glisten as she stares at [F/N].

[F/N] feels their veins turn to liquid ice, as they take in the hungry gaze of the Habinger.

Columbina hums, approaching them with a soft smile on their face.

“We’d like to offer you a position, [F/N].”

[F/N]’s mouth falls open in shock and they’re about ready to protest because, really—

They can’t fight! They’re not trained or anythi—

“Not as a harbinger, but as a baker. Your treats are delectable, and the bakery is rather out of the way…It would be more convenient to have you close by. You don’t have to agree to this, either.”

[F/N]’s eyes widened and they paused, they hadn’t expected that—

Columbina said they could say no, but they’d heard stories…

People who’d refused the Harbingers…

People who disappeared with no explanation. There one day. Gone the next.

Would that happen to them too, if they declined?

“I’d be happy to take up the position.”

[F/N] managed, their tone soft.

Columbina smiled.

It sent chills down their spine.

“Lovely. I was hoping you’d say that.”

[F/N] matched her smile, crafting a smile of their own.

The move was quick.

[F/N] supposed that was one of the perks of being close to the Tsaritsa…

The people of Snezhnaya didn’t dare spare any expense on their archon, or those close to her by extension.

Settling into their new workplace was something different all together.

They’d been given a nice space with all the necessities to make sweets.

It was fancy, well furnished, and lacked nothing, yet—

Yet, part of them still very much missed their flower covered walls, and dark oak tables…

They were to be taking orders from the Harbingers when asked, and had set times in their schedule to prepare sweets.

All in all, it wasn’t bad.

Really.

Dottore would stop by a couple times here and there to watch them bake.

He was usually very quiet and it was easy to forget he was there, at times…

It was rather unnerving, actually.

It was also a little comforting.

[F/N] was grateful for his quiet company, even if they suspected he was only doing so to study them.

The first new Harbinger they met there was Arlecchino, who had immediately asked them if they could prepare a batch of sweets for the children at the orphanage.

Well, ordered was probably a better term.

The Harbinger entered their office, her expression a fierce scowl, before she stated it was one of the children’s birthday, and that she needed cupcakes.

[F/N] immediately set to work, asking if any of the children had allergies, to which they received a ‘no’ from Arlecchino.

An hour or so later, and they’d finished a batch of beautifully decorated cupcakes.

The cake itself being angel food and the frosting a lovely buttercream with a strawberry glaze.

Arlecchino had stared at the cupcakes blankly, before fixing them with a smile.

“This looks delightful. You’re quite the baker. Thank you. I’m sure the children will love it.”

[F/N] stared after her in shock, as that was likely the most normal interaction they’d had since working here.

Arlecchino joined Dottore in watching them bake.

She was less quiet than Dottore, and took to asking [F/N] questions about their baking methods.

[F/N] answered the best they could.

Arlecchino seemed content with that, so really it was a win.

They met the Jester for the first time a week after baking the cupcakes for Arlecchino.

He’d simply walked in, grabbed one of the breakfast sandwiches they’d been asked to prepare that morning, and had left.

Not after giving them a polite nod, however.

This routine continued on and off throughout the times Pierro was at the headquarters.

He’d come in, grab food, nod or greet them, then leave. It took a couple of visits, but [F/N] was finally able to figure out his preferences.

They tried to have the dishes he liked prepped alongside the breakfast meals.

If he was aware of this, he didn’t say anything, but [F/N] swore he smiled the slightest bit when he came into grab breakfast the next couple of times.

Pantalone was interesting.

He had a love for coming up with incredibly complex cake designs and always ordered at outlandishly late hours.

[F/N]’s opinion on him was, as such:

The man was a sadist.

He smiled at them, nibbling at the end of a chocolate covered strawberry.

“As always, your performance is excellent. I do wish some of the workers here had such a refined work ethic. Unfortunately, they’re not quite as flexible with their hours. Work rules and such.”

[F/N] smiled at him, unable to keep their brow from twitching.

“How unfortunate for you.” They said, their smile strained.

Pantalone’s smile widened, and he nodded, his expression one of mock disappointment.

“Why, yes. Highly unfortunate. Fortunately, my favorite baker has a fair bit of wiggle room. Without a little something to sweeten the day, I believe I’d be truly distraught. I’ll see you tomorrow evening, of course. Do rest well, [F/N].”

Pantalone bit back, a false smile on his lips, as he waved his goodbye.

[F/N] huffed, shaking their head.

They couldn’t help the exasperated smile that made its way to their lips.

He was irritating yet—

Favorite baker, huh?

The sixth of the Fatui Harbingers was hard to please. The Balladeer liked to find anything he could to nit pick when it came to their baking, and when he couldn’t (Which was more often than not— [F/N] prided themselves on their baking. ) he took to complaining about how sparce the decorations were in their kitchen.

They were a baker, not an interior designer.

They did notice that the sixth never seemed to order anything sweet, whether it stemmed from dislike or not, they dared not ask.

Instead, they took to making more savory foods, and set aside the dishes he preferred, similarly to what they did for Pierro.

A few weeks later, a bunch of the sixth’s soldiers waltzed into the kitchen and set up a bunch of paintings on the wall.

They were flowers…

The paintings were incredibly similar to the ones [F/N] had in their old bakery…

The sixth was surprisingly cute at times...

He just didn’t know how to talk to people, and well, he’d at least helped fix the decoration problem.

The Eleventh harbinger was obnoxious, yet simultaneously endearing.

He had too much energy, and the first time they’d met him, he’d asked if they thought chopsticks could be used as weapons.

How were they supposed to know?

They were a baker, not a weapons master.

Still, they’d responded with a small smile and had said they were pretty sure anything could classify as a weapon if used as one.

That, apparently had been the wrong thing to say, as the next week or so the eleventh in an attempt to test their statement, had opted to challenging the recruits to fights wielding a variety of all sorts of different things—

One time, he’d even grabbed a muffin from their kitchen and had thrown it at some poor, unsuspecting recruit.

Still, the next time he spoke to them, he was wearing a wide grin as he told them ‘they were right, and anything could become a weapon.’

[F/N]’s response had been a tired smile and a long drawn sip of their coffee.

They’d been drinking a lot of that, recently—

Pulcinella, fortunately, had managed to reign Childe in.

Thank goodness for that.

[F/N] wasn’t sure how long their coffee supply would last, and as entertaining as Childe was—

They’d rather their dishes be eaten, as was intended, as opposed to being thrown about in an attempt to fight.

They really did work hard on what all they baked.

Truly.

[F/N]’s favorite of the Harbingers had to be Capitano, however.

He was always very polite to them, and their interactions were always the most normal.

It felt natural.

He’d come in, grab some breakfast, and converse with them for thirty minutes or so, before leaving to train his troops.

They’d started to look forward to his visits.

Sometimes, they’d attempt to sneak a glance at his face. Capitano seemed to take great amusement in foiling their attempts.

[F/N] sighed, earning a raised brow from Dottore.

“Capitano has a particular weakness to zucchini bread.” The Doctor drawled, his lips curled up into a smile.

[F/N] stared at him blankly, their expression confused.

“In fact, when he’s presented with such a dish he has trouble not eating all of it on the spot.”

Dottore continued and [F/N]’s eyes widened, as realization hit them.

“Oh. Oh! Thank you.”

They managed, their eyes wide with surprise.

Dottore chuckled, waving them off.

“Don’t mention it. Your pathetic attempts at glimpsing his face were amusing at first, but now they’re rather sad. My, even Signora felt a bit sorry for you.”

[F/N] rolled their eyes, snorting at his words.

“For some reason, I doubt that.”

Dottore chuckled, bringing a hand to his chin.

“You’d be surprised just how far a thoughtful remark and nice slice of cake can get you. People are often quick to write off simple acts as that, but I find that it’s much easier to get those to bend towards your will with a few well placed acts of kindness.”

[F/N] hummed, grabbing the materials to make Zucchini Bread.

“If you have a specific request in mind, just say so.”

The Doctor chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Very well, in that case— I’d very much like some Red Velvet cake.”

[F/N] nodded, setting aside the ingredients to make the cake for Dottore, as well.

They set off to baking, their eyes trailing to the door upon hearing Arlecchino enter.

She took to watching them bake, as usual.

“Would you like to join me for a day, and I’ll teach you a few recipes sometime?” [F/N] asked, as they loaded two separate pans into the oven.

One for the Zucchini bread, and one for Dottore’s red velvet cake.

Arlecchino paused, before smirking at them.

“Oh, yes. That would be nice. Would this weekend work? Actually, if you could teach me how to make those cupcakes you did…”

She mused, her eyes glinting.

[F/N] nodded, “Saturday works fine.”

Arlecchino smiled, her expression cheerful.

“Excellent. I’ll be looking forward to it, then.”

[F/N] nodded, their expression pensive.

Arlecchino was almost always civil, but she was rather hard to decipher.

[F/N] had a suspicion that there was more to the harbinger than she let on.

Dottore spoke up after Arlecchino left.

“She’s rather fond of you.”

[F/N] bit back a retort, shaking their head.

“I wonder why.”

The Doctor chuckled, his hid tilted slightly to the side. “Don’t we all?”

[F/N] pushed the finished cake over to him silently, caught up in thought.

The Knave dropped by later that afternoon, excitedly rambling about her newest invention.

[F/N] listened with a polite smile, Dottore’s words still swimming in their head.

Why was everyone so nice to them…?

The Knave left, her arms full of cranberry orange muffins, as she gave [F/N] a cheerful goodbye.

Pulcinella stopped by, offering them a decent sum of mora for a copy of their recipe book.

They said no, much to the older man’s amusement.

He seemed sure that their recipes would make nothing short of a fortune, but the book was theirs.

He’d been surprisingly understanding of that, and jokingly suggested that should they keep using it so religiously, the book may hold some merit in the future as a catalyst.

Their response had been, it could be a catalyst now, if not a physical one.

His response to that had been that they spent too much time with Childe.

That statement technically wasn’t false…

Childe was a frequent visitor to the kitchen, and often regaled them with tales of his countless battles.

They had a suspicion he was lonely.

They were too.

They welcomed the company.

The sixth also liked to stop by, but he was almost always quiet, and used the kitchen as a get away.

In the Balladeer’s words, ‘The environment was less suffocating.’

[F/N] was content to work quietly when the Sixth stopped by, as they could understand the need for a safe space.

It was nice to at least have the option for company.

They handed Capitano the zucchini bread when he entered, watching with ill concealed interest, as he observed the dish.

“Dottore… I’ll have to speak with him…”

Capitano murmured, his grip on the bread tight.

[F/N] frowned, their brows furrowing, earning a soft chuckle from Capitano.

He brought his hand up to ruffle their hair, affection clearly in his tone as he spoke.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Not even Dottore has seen my face. Don’t fret too much about something that may or may not be there, [F/N]…”

[F/N]’s eyes widened and they barely managed to process Capitano’a words, before he removed his hand from their head, and left the kitchen.

“Wait—! Wait… You don’t mean…”

No, that was silly.

There was no way…

Right?!

[F/N]’s first question to Pierro was “Capitano has a face, doesn’t he?”

Pierro nearly dropped his breakfast.

Of all the ways he’d expected [F/N] to finally strike up conversation with him, it had not been that.

#genshin impact #thanks for the ask! #genshin x reader #send asks #genshin reader insert #fatui harbingers #capitano #dottore #childe #oneshot #fatui genshin #genshin fluff

[berrychanx]

Deep Blue Awakening & Blue Knight Shock

Let’s talk about this, and I’ll be using the song Komm Suber Tod (Come Sweet Death) from The End Of Evangelion to make my point.

BLUE KNIGHT PURPOSE

Very simple, Aoyama created this alter ego to protect Ichigo, because he felt hopeless of not being able to help her when she was always there to protect him.

PURPOSE FAILED

“I know, I know i’ve let you down, I’ve been a fool to myself....I thought that I could live for no one else”

By getting Ichigo severely hurt to the point of blood spilling, being K.O on the floor is whole purpose was gone. HE FAILED

“ So, with sadness in my heart- Feel the best thing I could do Is end it all and leave forever “

Kish was *chef kiss* what a perfect mastermind, he knows Blue Knight is doubting his skills so he makes things worst for him, helping him assert his doubts. If he was stronger Ichigo wouldn’t have gotten hurt., she’s also capable of fighting for herself so why does he even exist?

And yes that was the point of the aliens mind breaking him.

For him to unwilling hurt ichigo so they could manipulate him into doubting himself and awaken deep blue.

“I know we can't forget the past

You can't forget love and pride

Because of that, it's killing me inside “

Let’s analyze this shots of Aoyama, he’s a single kid in a dark room, probably his own vision of the orphanage because he can’t related to anyone else and lives in his own world. Not even the light coming from the outside is that bright,

His parents and friends face are covered in black, depicting how distant he is with other humans,we can’t relate to any of them.

Slowly has he grows up he starts hating his peers more and more due to his own personal reasons, that is - Destroying the environment.

Can't live without the trust from those you love“

Until everything changed, he met Ichigo, who was different, she didn’t use him for her personal goals, she would easily express her emotions something Aoyama would have trouble doing and also cared for the environment and wanted to do something to help protect it..

Let’s put ourselves in his shoes, if we knew one of our loved ones was in a war situation we too would like to help somehow if possible, we too would hope they would be safe and didn’t put their lifes in danger.

Ryou doesn't has this struggles cause he's in the operating room with Kei-kun helping in any way they can, he’s also the leader of the project so he knows the dangers that would come from it.

“ I wish that I could turn back time

'Cause now the guilt is all mine “

This thoughts consumed him to the point where he as put her in more danger than he thought it would

The aliens were self aware of his sense of justice and that he would protect Ichigo at any cost and that in return Ichigo would also try to save him.

And that’s exactly what happened, she got in the way of the attack that was directed to him and took the shot.

This was all perfectly orchestrated by the aliens, they knew how fragile Blue Knight state of mind is/was.

“ What's done is done, it feels so bad

What once was happy now is sad

I'll never love again

My world is ending “

He felt a connection with her, something he never did before with anyone, without noticing she helped him develop as a person. And because of that he vowed in his heart to protect this person who gave him a meaning in life.

“I just keep letting me down

Letting me down, letting me down “

“ I've lost everything, everything

Everything that matters to me matters in this world “

Self-Sabotage,

He’s too deep in shock and trauma to the point he’s not hearing anything, he only hears the words that he wants or associates with bad feelings which is FIGHTING, Ichigo wants to fight together and to him in that state of mind means Ichigo will get hurt NO MATTER WHAT.

Despite Ichigo shouting out everything will be ok and she’s capable of protecting herself. The fear of loosing her is to big to the point of consuming all his thoughts. and the aliens knew this.

“ It all returns to nothing

It just keeps tumbling down

Tumbling down, tumbling down

It all returns to nothing

I just keep letting me down

Letting me down, letting me down “

The moment he doubts himself and his goal he freezes and the shell breaks

This vessel is no longer necessary, it as completed its purpose and the real person in control can overcome this body.

The vessel in its mind failed its mission, but to the original host it was successful.

“ Tumbling down

Tumbling down

Tumbling down“

#long post #tokyo mew mew #mew mew power #tokyo mew mew new #analysis #blue kni #deep blue #the blue knig #mew ichigo #aoyama masaya #analyis