#sometimes commas get boring man
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Memories Feel Like Weapons
Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader
Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”
A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽
Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️
Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas
As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.
You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.
Today proves to be different, though.
A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.
You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.
Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.
Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.
It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.
This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.
“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.
Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.
He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.
“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.
The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”
“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”
You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”
Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.
“I’ll manage.”
“If you’re not feeling up to it – “
He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”
“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.
“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”
. . .
It is almost immediately not fine.
The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.
Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.
Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.
Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.
“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”
Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.
For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.
Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?
As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.
Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”
“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.
It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.
Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.
Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”
Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.
As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.
A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.
“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.
He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.
You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”
He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.
Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.
For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”
“No one blames you.”
“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”
“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”
“Anymore.”
“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”
“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?
“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”
Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”
“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”
Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.
“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”
Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.
“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”
You nod. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”
Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”
Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.
“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”
“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”
#Edmund can have SAD - as a treat#edmund pevensie#narnia imagine#narnia fanfiction#narnia x reader#edmund pevensie x reader#my writing
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how i think the boxers text
i was bored. also clay puppington looks like don flamenco to me somehow. goodbye
Glass joe - he would type with extra double spaces and use a lot of emojis for the wrong purposes with random capital letters
Example:
"hello. Have you seen my water bottle?"
"aran. is. in the hospital 🤯🤯🤯 call Later!! 🗣️"
Von Kaiser - okay grammar and uses a space before question marks & exclamation points, uses emojis in the intended (boring) way
Example:
"okay !! on my way !! 🚶🏻♂️🚶🏻♂️🚶🏻♂️"
"aran fell down a pothole !! It is NOT 🙅♂️ funny !!"
Disco Kid - uses slang often and gets creative with emojis, likes to use keyboard smashes to laugh and leaves typos in for flavor
Example:
"aran really said 🕳️⬅️🏃♂️"
"HELP IM EVAPORATEINF😭😭😭😭 LMAO AHKAJSJSJSJSNNSNS PLEASEE"
"YOURW GOING TO JAIL FOR THAT ONE 👮♂️👮♂️🚔🚔🚨🚨 WEE WOO WEE WOO"
King Hippo - Really ominous messages, texts like hes telling you hes done a mission, sometimes forgets to use a dot and uses a comma instead, sometimes responds with emojis that have 0 relevance
Example:
"oh no,"
"I took care of him. The job is done."
" 🍝🤯"
Piston Hondo - squeaky clean grammar, uses emojis rarely unless he forgets the name of something
Example:
"Alright. I'll call later."
"What was the name of this? I know how it looks like but forgot the name. Looks something like this: 🥨. I think it was called a praised eel or something?"
Bear Hugger - He texts like a Facebook mom, down to the wording and everything
Example:
"You mean pretzel? 🤣"
"How did he fall down a pothole?! 😮"
Great Tiger - too lazy to fix typos so it looks like a ancient language, likes spamming the same emoji over and over again when hes run out of responses, autocorrect fucks his messages up even more
Example:
"wesir did srsn fslk doen s potjole?? (wait did aran fall down a pothole?"
"i dont knoe sf is ıoıld laıyknsyn at araj fellimf dlen and pırjolej" (i dont know if i should laugh at aran falling down a pothole)
"👀👀👀👀👀"
Don Flamenco - proper grammar with some tiny typos that gets autocorrect to mess his message up, his autocorrect is literally cursed, it runs his messages daily
Example:
"Did aran fall town s pit joke??"
"I am do confused"
Aran Ryan - unhinged, emphasizes random parts for no reason, emojis after every sentence, wrong emojis everywhere
Example:
"I fell DOWN a pothole! 🏃♂️🏃♂️🏃♂️"
"shut UP 🖕🖕🖕🚔🦗🖕🥨"
"ILL drag you down there MYSELF!! 🗣️🗣️😡😡"
Soda Popinski - like a grandpa in the good way, sends those positive good morning images in every groupchat hes in
"Rise and shine! 💖"
"I just woke up. Don't know whats going on! 👀"
"Get well soon! 💐🌼✨"
Bald Bull - texts like your dad, except he switches out moves completely when hes cursing someone out
Example:
"ok"
"👍"
"You dumb bitch. Fuck you ass hole."
Super Macho Man - texts like hes making a copypasta
Example:
"Rise and GRIND! 🗣️ Surfs up today! 🤙🤙 Im catching waves like theres no tomorrow! 🏝️🌊"
"I have no idea. I am literally so confused right now. My brain is not working. My thought are not thoughting. I need a reboot. "
Mr Sandman - FINALLY someone that types like a normal person!!
Example:
"How did you fall down a pothole?"
"how great."
#punch out#headcanon#punch out headcanons#punch out wii#aran ryan#don flamenco#piston hondo#bald bull#glass joe#great tiger#me when i unleash the horrors (my hcs) on you all#hope you enjoyed the small pattern of aran falling down a pothole and hondo forgetting what the word for pretzel is#<- almost typed homo instead of hondo help
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Yeah alright let’s talk Tarkir
Getting this out of the way: I do not care about Alesha, so if you were coming here ready to hear anything about the first-ever transgender girl out of Magic*, sorry to disappoint.
Actually, yeah, I’m gonna talk about this for a little bit. I understand Alesha means a lot to some people, and I’m not saying they’re wrong to feel that way. I’m sure there are people who had to fight to make Alesha openly & canonically trans, and I’m not saying that this was meaningless, wasted effort. It’s nice to be able to point to someone and say, see, there’s a place for people like me here. I was excited about it at the time and I wasn’t even into Magic back then.
But like c’mon, y’all, she’s not really a character, right? She gets one story, the thrust of which is, “this character is trans, and that’s basically fine.” Alesha exists to be part of the banner image of the internal WotC LGBT employees’ monthly newsletter. She exists to be the discord avatar for every third trans girl into Magic. She exists so a massive corporation can point to her as evidence that they care in some nebulous way about trans people, and she costs slightly less than paying someone to, say, actually moderate the hate speech comments on their vids of Autumn Burchett’s pro tour games.
All of which is to say, they don’t actually care. You know this. Individual staff, writers, artists - sure, but they’re not the ones who make the final decisions. And you and I deserve better from our stories, and we’re never going to get that from fucking Hasbro, right?
So here’s my pitch: seek out actual queer stories, and I’m not talking about contemporary YA shit with a marketing budget. For readers of this specific blog I’d recommend looking up “Attack Helicopter” by Isabel Fall (you should still be able to find it online). Stories where the texture and structure of thought are queer and trans are revelatory. You don’t need to beg for crumbs from a megacorp’s table.
ANYWAY, COMMA,
welcome to Tarkir! There used to not be dragons here, but now there are. In either timeline, everyone is locked in a brutal, unending struggle of clan-against-clan, so thanks, Sarkhan? Yeah, no, I hear you, it’s definitely different now. Yeah, and better. Yeah, because of the...yeah, because there’s dragons now, right. No, you did great, buddy. You really, uh, made a difference.
JESUS, IS HE CRYING? GET ME OUT OF HERE PLEASE
Monastery Swiftspear (art by Steve Argyle)
I’ve come to think of the current era of MtG art (let’s arbitrarily say from Kaladesh block to the present) as the “Magali Villeneuve era”, and if I’m being totally honest, I kind of hate it. Everything is technically competent, clearly lit, and immaculately detailed. Everyone has amazing cheekbones. It is so, so boring. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad artist! Sometimes, as with Kaldheim, she is very nearly the only person in a set making good art. I’ve featured her work on here many, many times.
What I am saying is that her work always has this, like, objectivity to it that feels detached and even alienating, like we’re looking at these characters through a powerful telescope. There’s no stylization, and dare I say no style.
The reason I bring her up in a set in which I will not be reviewing her work (sorry, Narset fans), is that Steve Argyle makes for an interesting comparison. They are to my untrained eye very similar artists: the sharp linework, the combination of dynamics and detachment. The major difference is that Steve’s art is substantially hornier and substantially male-gazier.
And goddammit, at least that’s something.
I HAVE THIS OPINION BECAUSE I’M A BAD FEMINIST. AND I DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED ABOUT IT
Unyielding Krumar (art by Viktor Titov)
I’m not sure why Viktor made this orc look like a ripped lizard man. None of the other orcs in this block look like this. Maybe he thought “krumar” was a species of lizard folk, when in point of fact a krumar is, checks notes, an orphan of the Mardu raised by the Abzan who killed their parents in a twist of worldbuilding regrettably reminiscent of a strategy used in real-world genocides. Whoops!
Anyway, big arms. Lizard person. Sorry about your family.
WIZARDS STAY CLASSY I GUESS
Ire Shaman (art by Jack Wang)
Yeah, see, extremely not a lizard.
We’re not going to talk about armor practicality because that is very much beside the point, but we were all thinking it, and I want to acknowledge that before moving onto saying nice things about what all the leather bands are doing for her arms, and what this lamellar bustier is doing for her tits.
YEAH I KNOW WHAT LAMELLAR IS. PRETTY HOT, RIGHT
Den Protector (art by Viktor Titov)
I am not immune to mothers, nor women in furs, and I’m especially not immune to women with big two-handed weapons (in either sense, I suppose.) I really like the sense of motion in this picture, and the dynamic thrust of the landscape behind her, and... hm. Is her right-hand grip reversed from what it should be? Dammit, that’s going to bother me.
I LIKE MY WOMEN TO HAVE BETTER GRIP TECHNIQUE IS ALL I’M SAYING
Wandering Champion (art by Willian Murai)
I am trying really, really hard not to date myself by a reference to a shitty 20-year-old flash animation. Anyway! she has flexibility, power, and isn’t afraid of a little viscera now and again. All excellent qualities.
I AM HONESTLY EXERCISING IMMENSE SELF-RESTRAINT HERE
Sultai Flayer (art by Izzy)
Sorry, do you not want a forty-foot androgyne snake person to remove your skin with tender, agonizing slowness? Are you lost?
WHY DON’T YOU MARRY YOUR SKIN IF YOU’RE SO GODDAMN ATTACHED TO IT. PUSSY.
Highspire Mantis (art by Igor Kieryluk)
I did the mantis bit in my Battle for Zendikar post, but I thought I’d actually dig into what the appeal is here: raptorial forelimbs. The inescapable, serrated hold of something that could slice you open as easy as thinking, but hasn’t yet. The smoothness of chitin, hard without being inflexible. The many strange articulations. And then either you make out or it eats your head, and it is not up to you which.
WHEN WILL WIZARDS GIVE US THE MANTIS-FUCKER REPRESENTATION WE DESERVE. ROSEWATER’S SILENCE ON THIS ISSUE IS DEAFENING.
Alright, that’s Tarkir down! Who knows what’s next? Probably a very cranky explanation of what fiction is and why it’s okay to like fictional bad guys (it’s because they’re not real.) At first I thought that was going to be a more interesting topic, but the more I think about it the more it seems like it’s...really not. I can have fun with it, though! Thanks for reading, and I’ll see y’all next time.
---------
*the first-ever transgender girl out of Magic/had to settle on a name/and the top three contenders after weeks of debate/were Alesha/and Shensu/and the Kolaghan Bomber
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20 Author Questions
thanks to @statelysapphicfor the tag!!!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
28!
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
162,944
3. What fandoms do you write for?
it's that sweet gwendoline chistie brain rot for me :))
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
push me gently (into love) -> (nsfw) -> two chapter Larissa x reader story in which reader is an art teacher at Nevermore. fluffy, cozy, and sweet, featuring easily skippable smut. rom-com vibes.
when the last restraint is gone -> (ongoing) (nsfw) -> an intense victorian romance between Jane Murdstone and her lady's maid, Laura. sort of in the style of Sarah Waters's historical romance novels. heavily influenced by Vita and Virginia's love letters. featuring a lot of sensually read victorian poetry and dirty, delicious smut.
danger level - one (nsfw) -> filthy smut featuring the good ol' sex pollen trope. Phasma x fem!stormtrooper!reader. hot and a bit silly. straightforward and simple porn lol.
particular (nsfw) -> Larissa Weems x (adult) Wednesday Addams, aka the fic that got me cancelled. ongoing, but written. still in the process of posting it. rom-com with dark humour and some more mature themes, but still relatively light. sort of a coming-of-age story.
so very chivalrous (and so completely oblivious) -> Brienne x princess!reader. very fluffy. Brienne is very good with a sword, but a bit oblivious in the matters of love. featuring good ol' lesbian yearning.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
i try my best to! i feel like i either wanna rant abt my blorbos and my thought process or i want to be polite. someone took the time to write a comment, and i feel like that warrants a thank you!
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
hmmmmm. perhaps the sad ending option for my ruin tastes so sweet (almost as sweet as your lips) -- it's a choose your own adventure story!
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
it would have to be either so very chivalrous (and so completely oblivious) or push me gently (into love) which now that i think about have a lot of kudos and comments and hits, so i guess ppl love happy endings hahah
8. Do you get hate on fics?
i'm the queen of controversy apparently, and i was cancelled! but the fic itself didn't get as much hate as ppl didn't even wanna read it lol, i personally got hate mail. so fics? i suppose not. but there is still time, who knows what else i'll post (i know, and ppl will likely have opinions about it)
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
i very much do lol. the real hot kind :)
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
i've written exactly one! larissa x phasma bc. reasons. it's smut. chrome and lipstick
11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?
not to my knowledge! but ppl have heavily copied my work :)
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
not to my knowledge!
13. Have you ever co-writtten a fic before?
tried to, but the person in question sorta ghosted me lol
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
ughhhhh idk man. i guess the one i spent the longest being obsessed with is malora. i have a dark past lol.
15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
i hope to finish them all Eventually lol but idk, we shall see!
16. What are your writing strengths?
characterisation, point blank haha. i have a sense of rhythm that i sometimes put to good use.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
uhhh i tend to be vague abt things i am bored with while i write, and plot driven things aren't my forte. i can get very dash and comma happy lol. sometimes i tend to Fixate on a word or a phrase and i'm like okay gurl let it go lol, you've used this too many times. i am not very meticulous and i hate doing outlines and i feel like Sometimes it Shows. i feel like sometimes you can tell english is not my native language no matter how hard i try.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
speak the language at least somewhat, please. otherwise it's really hard for it to land well. personally, i feel very lukewarm about it
19. First fandom you wrote for?
uhhhhh. i honestly don't remember. supergirl perhaps?? or ouat.
20. Favorite fic you've ever written?
our little dance and particular :)
tagging: @the-frankenman-writes @dianneking @zephyr-is-tired @alder-saan @notinmyvocab @theflashesoflove
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Saw u write some tips for aspiring writers and such! Do you have anymore that might make the writing better? U don't have to, just a thought because my writing needs a little work *sobs*
Hey! First off! Good for you for admitting that your writing needs work! And btw, that is a FINE place to be. Like, legit, I read stuff I wrote and want to die because ehe it needs so much workkkk. So, yeah! Don't worry about being perfect yet! You're a writer because you aren't perfect! If writing wasn't hard, everyone would do it like they're Alexander Hamilton, so. Good for you, Love!
Here are some tips!
I once took a creative writing seminar. The professor spent a whole hour and a half of our class time driving home his main point. He said, If you want to write, you need to read everything. So. This is going to sound ridiculous, because I assume your current projects are all unpublished or on ao3 or wattpad(if I'm wrong YOU GOOO YOURE A BETTER WRITER THAN ME HELLS YEAH). But stop just reading YA. Stop just reading BookTok books. Stop reading just fanfiction. Stop reading A Dance Of Thieves, stop reading Turtles All The Way Down, stop reading The Lunar Chronicles. Take a step back. Breathe for a minute. Now, I want you to go online and request one of the following three books either on Amazon, your library, or your favorite illegal book downloading website. 1) The Awakening, by Kate Chopin. 2) The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. 3) The Old Man and The Sea, by Ernest Hemingway. These books are fairly short, as novels go, and they are pretty famous and decently fun. I want you to read it. Take your time, and enjoy it, or barrel straight through and swallow every word with vigor. Whatever strikes your fancy. Just read something you'd feel proud telling your grandma you read. And then I want you to find more books like it. Go read classics. Read books that shaped the world. I'm talking 1984, and Pride and Prejudice. I'm talking Anna Karenina and To Kill A Mockingbird. Don't read these for a class, read them because you want to learn how to write. Watch how the authors use words. You can still read YA and ao3 when you're bored or tired, just don't only read that. Read what professors and writers and readers have defined as "cream of the crop" writing for years and years, and just. Idk. Let it sink into your chest like you are a hot cup of water and the book is the tea bag.
Get good with grammar. It sounds really dumb, I know, but trust me. Grammar is the music of words, and to break the rules you need to know what they are, first. I'm not saying to go dig out your grade school grammar textbook and pour over it endlessly before you write anything, heck no. I'm saying that you should look up how to use a semicolon before you use it, or know where to put commas and line breaks. I'm saying you should be able to structure your sentences in a way that lets people easily read and move through your story like it's butter.
Write stupid crap. *points at over 7 Sokeefe soulmate aus* see this crap? Do it. You know you want to. Write something overdone, overused, just get words moving. Don't feel like you have to change the world with every word that comes out of your brain. You do not have to. The fate of the world does not rest on your shoulders, dearest writer, even if sometimes it seems to.
When you get stuck, keep going. One of my favorite writers, Jack London, has a quote. It says, "You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." Truest thing I've ever heard in my 1010 years of being a writer on this planet. Don't stop when you're stuck. This is the advice that's gotten me through writer's block for years. A lie pushed by the media is that Writer's Block cripples you. No. It doesn't. Being busy/losing focus cripples you. So, just. Don't stop. Literally. Just make the plot go. If you can't, make a pinterest aesthetic/writing prompts board or look up "plot twist ideas" on tumblr. And, moreover, just try as hard as you can when you get bored, here's what you've gotta do. Don't pause your story when you're bored. Don't stop when it's dull and you naturally lose focus. Push through that first bout of wanting to quit. Wait until it's getting good, when you know exactly what's coming next and how you're gonna start making the story fun and exciting, and then stop, take a break, come back tomorrow. You'll open up your word doc, and be like AW YES THE GOOD PART and want to go at it again. Also, in a similar vein, avoid boring expose. Writing is partially entertaining yourself, as you write, so if you don't have fun writing the beginning of your protagonist's day, don't bother. Just begin at the beginning of the story, and weave the juicy background stuff in later.
Write what you want to read. Do you like short fiction? Write short fiction. Do you like cringe romance novels? Write a cringe romance novel. Do you like sci-fi? Write sci-fi. Like fanfic? WRITE IT! Write found family, write your own MCU movie into existence! Write whatever you want. It is your world, you have complete control over it. And use that control!!! You are the god and it is your creation!!! This is the one thing in life you can control! So enjoy it!!! You deserve to enjoy what you do!!! You deserve to have fun, writer, dearest! So do!
Hope these help! Send me another ask if you want!
#writing#writing quotes#thanks for the ask!#writing tips#writing advice#writing inspiration#writing inspo#writeblr#writer#fic writing#fanfic writing#writers#writing community#i am a writer i can say these things#creative writing#writers block#writer struggles
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ive seen some discourse on this and zoot can you do a character analysis of eddie? like the way you used to break down obx characters cos a lot of the headcannons i see of him are kind of mean, classist, and just seem so off character
Hi bby, ofc i can do a lil analysis on eddie however comma im gonna need some time as i’m about to go to the store, but i can give you some of my headcannons i use when i write eddie (and i aim to write him as in character as i can), some are sfw and some are nsfw
Random Eddie Munson Headcanons (ft Fem/Afab reader):
Total teddybear, tries to act tough but we all know he’s a big softie
Always gives you a discount bc you’re pretty, then you find out he’s only been giving you that specific discount-esp when your friend tries to buy from him
Total flirt, always flirting w the person he’s crushing on, and you just know he makes nerdy references when he does it too
bonus points when the person acc understands his references, he just swoons, definitely a heart eyes type mf
He smells like weed, menthol cigarettes, and a sprinkle of drugstore cologne
He definitely uses the 3 in 1 mens shampoos, and its green apple scented. + this mf probably uses irish spring bar soap
I doubt he uses chapstick frequently, then when he starts dating someone he’s constantly using it bc he loves making out
When in doubt he’ll use some of his partners lip gloss and if anyone asks him ab it he just says ‘can a man not kiss his lover?’
Eddie Munson is TOUCH STARVED and his love language is physical touch
He’s always holding his partner somehow, or caressing their skin, or just pulling them close bc hes one of the ‘i wanna be in your skin’ mfs
Also definitely play fights and wrestles w his partner, and i mean he will tackle you onto his bed for funsies
He’s hella goofy, like mans will always try to make people laugh whenever they look upset, definitely the type to shove fries in his nose when you’re not looking then wiggle his brows bc hes a big ass kid sometimes (but we love that ab him)
This man WILL wine and dine you even if it means rushing to make as many sales as possible within 2 days bc he wants your date to be special
He’s smart, like mega smart, you cannot DM a game of DND without being incredibly smart and creative
He’s good at math (once again DND relies heavily on numbers + being a drug dealer means you have to understand numbers) but bad w high school english, not bc he’s dumb but bc he gets bored easily and doesn’t care
He definitely got the silver pig ring from his dad, he probably wears it bc he associates it w the few good memories he has w him
He stole the handcuffs on his wall from Hopper, he and Hopper actually have a decent relationship bc jim knew his dad and we all know Jim has a soft spot for troubled teens
He tells Hopper that he’s “the only cop i wouldnt call a pig”
Anytime he gets arrested he asks for the sheriff specifically and 9/10 times jim lets him go w a shitty warning
Speaking of those handcuffs-he swears he’d never use them on someone and when asked why he definitely gets flustered then mumbles out ‘i dont have a key’
Buys handcuffs specifically for being freak nasty, even puts the key on a necklace that he gives to his partner (which they wear everyday bc its engraved w their initials in a little heart)
He definitely keeps a little cardboard box under his bed full of nasty magazines, some are like typical playboys and the others are heavy metal, then he has some straight up fantasy prnos that he doesn’t remember buying but still cherishes (hint he stole them)
The five finger discount is his best friend, this man isnt a klepto but he grew up poor and his familial influenced were all criminals until he started living w wayne so yk, he be stealin shit from time to time
Definitely steals lip gloss, hair ties, or other small ‘essentials’ for you and says he thought of you when he saw it
He grabs your hips anytime you bend over and humps you, ive seen other ppl say this one and its 110% accurate
Also an ass smacker/grabber-especially in shorts and skirts, but if its a skirt he slides his entire hand under it to grab your ass bc he will always be your lil pervy boyfriend
EDDIE MUNSON IS A BISEXUAL KING
Total perv, probably bc hes touch starved and just rlly into everything ab you. Looks up your skirt and down your shirt any chance he gets
I hate to say it i rlly do but i think he has a foot fetish, ive met my fair share of eddie munsons and they usually have foot fetishes
definitely asks you what color panties you have on while winking + panty thief + jerks off w your used panties
Hes 110% a switch, he likes being in charge but he loves it when you smack him around and pull his hair and deep down he likes begging for more
Ppl always go back and forth on fav sex positions but i just know in my soul he loves cowgirl, whether youre doing all the work or hes fucking into you, he just likes looking up at you bc “you look like a goddess”
He eats ass. I will not elaborate because i know im correct.
King of eating pussy in his van, anytime anywhere it gives “ill pull over rn” and hes deadass, he’ll even make you get on your hands and knees so he can eat it from the back when you two just finished arguing bc “i cant look at you rn” while he’s knuckle deep inside you w his tongue on your pussy
He’s a biter, and i mean sexually and just in general, he’ll leave bite marks on you during sex but even throughout the day he gets cuteness aggression and just be nibbling on you like a fuckin weirdo (we love him for that)
Flirts w your mom/dad to make them like you, usually he leans more towards your mom but will definitely slide a few compliments in to your dad
Puts a hand over your mouth so he can go down on you when he’s at yours and your parents are home or he gags you w your own panties (love our pervy king)
Only lets his partner touch his hair, he also cuts it himself every other saturday
Bonus for my poc readers: he oils your scalp!!!!!!! OR you start oiling his hair and he loves it when you do his hair, even makes an entire day out of it
Tries to get you to play DND, even designs little one shot campaigns for you to join in on and youre most likely playing w Dustin and Erica bc he said “they wont get frustrated with you”
When Dustin does get a lil frustrated when youre first learning Eddie lets Erica talk shit to him bc she has your back
OR If you already know how to play DND he swoons at your feet, definitely wants to beg you to join hellfire, practically makes it his mission and life purpose (esp if you arent dating yet)
He wants kids but he doesn’t know when, probably has doubts ab being a good dad bc “Munson men aren’t exactly angels” but w some reassurance and cuddling he feels better ab it
Definitely hates the idea of working a 9-5 for the rest of his life but would do it if he had a family and they needed him around.
All in all Eddie Munsons such a simp
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AU SKETCH | YOU / ALHAITHAM [R]
The light from the lamp scantily illuminates the living room. It's not even suitable for reading - it hurts your eyes. But the man will not want to turn on the others, he will not want to light the candles. He's feeling good as it is. He stands at the window almost motionless, only his pupils slowly sweep through the stormy life of people on the street. In the evening and morning it is especially noisy that even closed windows do not help, and the Sumeru bazaar is more vibrant than ever.
On the table next to the sofa there was a mug with half-drunk and obviously cooled coffee, and on the side there was a collection of excerpts from articles that had almost been read. Occasionally, al-Haytham casually reads what is printed, but mostly throws it on the shelf, not finding anything interesting for himself.
You look at the man from the corridor. You don’t approach right away, watching the tapping of your fingers on the window sill and a perfectly straight posture… Hair carelessly laid at the back of your head, broad shoulders and strong arms that don’t tense for a moment when you take the first step. The floorboards creaked a couple of times along the way, but it doesn’t matter - the secretary doesn’t even look back.
You touch his lower back with your fingertips. Weightless and meek, so as not to burst into solitude so rudely. Alhaitham turns his head slightly, but doesn’t move… He doesn’t even smile, he doesn’t suddenly pull you into his arms, although sometimes that’s all you want.
“Aren’t you bored here alone?” - you ask quietly, but not in a whisper, moving your fingers higher up your back.
“No,” he answers with only one word, not wanting to add anything else. There is no continuation and no comma after that, rather a bold period.
“ Is it so interesting to watch people passing under the windows?”
The secretary shrugs his shoulder carelessly and lazily, as if reluctantly answers
«There is something special about this. Everyone runs about their business throughout the day, haven’t you noticed? And none of the cases end. “
It is unclear with what message the man says this. What does it mean: reproach or simple observation. Maybe even a smile, because he himself is at home now.
You don’t answer, sliding your palm more confidently along the strong muscles and spine. You move your arms forward, hugging the man’s waist and pressing your cheek to his bicep. And again he won’t flinch.
You rise up on your toes to slide your chin over your shoulder. The smell of shampoo and cleanliness, with which Alhaitham is literally saturated, is fleetingly driven into the nose. Even the trail of the perfume is not particularly noticeable, which is a pity… Woody-tart notes fade with something fresh.
Coarse hair gets on your forehead. It’s ticklish, but tolerable, and you don’t want to move them away at all. You press your chest against his back harder, silently enjoying every second when Alhaitham accepts your warmth and involuntarily smiles at the edges of his lips.
A large palm rests on top of yours and reluctantly pulls them off your torso. The secretary turns to you, but only to walk to the sofa and sit on the very edge, leaning back on the soft back. It’s difficult to understand his behavior without explanation, and it’s difficult to even get into his head—it’s scary to get confused.
“How long will you stand?” — the question cut through the silence. Alhaitham looks sideways at you, waiting either for an answer or for when you approach him.
“ Are people not so interesting anymore?” — He grins as soon as he hears this.
“Don't think. Now you are in front of me, you are also a person.”
You have been together for a long time, but every pleasant word still tightens your gut. A man does not shower him with boundless tenderness, staying on the edge so as not to become boring. Hugs warm and excite the soul like the first time, kisses are sometimes stingy with feelings, but hot and smooth… Alhaitham does not allow you to impatiently descend into passion, so he directs the kiss himself.
You sit on the side of him, tucking your knees under you. The secretary puts his hand on the back so that it is more convenient for you to press your whole body against him. Soft and warm, although he doesn’t hug you back, just mindlessly strokes the top of your head.
And silence is good. It even seems more pleasant than thoughtless conversations needed to simply fill the void. In the silent silence, when he kisses the top of your head and you trace circles on his torso… Better. More familiar.
You lift your head to catch Alhaitham's gaze. And he looks straight at you, studying him, as if he sees for the first time or does not realize that it is you who are clinging to him. A slight squint and a glance that fleetingly descended to the lips.
A man does not hide if he wants to kiss you. That is why he immediately leans down and catches your lips with his, but still does not turn around with his whole body and does not hug you. He knows that you will do this, that you will throw your leg over his lap, that you will run your palm through his coarse hair… That you will inevitably show impatience. And you don’t deny this, shamelessly and frivolously squeezing the elastic fabric of the sweater on his chest, moving your hand lower, feeling his abs.
Alhaitham flicks his tongue over your lip and gently pulls it away with his teeth to feel a heavy sigh throughout your body. Oh, how each new action excites, calls for more, intimate, even dirty. But not this time, when you seem so fragile in a strong grip, when you melt from a long kiss, when you so want to relax without going into a frenzy.
Only once does the secretary allow herself to squeeze your thigh and pull you onto her lap so that you feel that you are not the only one who wants it. He teases, perhaps, but he himself can’t do anything, as soon as you gasp again and press harder.
Long fingers touch the chin. Alhaitham pulls away from his lips and presses his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath. Always drives you crazy, just like you drive him crazy.
And people continue to walk the streets endlessly. Indeed, things never slow down, but everyone is just running around, in a hurry and waiting for something…
…But you don’t care about this anymore, because you completely forget about any lust, as soon as a man carefully wraps his arms around your belt and presses his nose to your shoulder. It turns out that this is what was missing.
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10, 17, and 34 for the ask game, GO !!
HI PANGOLIN!!!
10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?
staring at my ten gajillion wips lying in the abyss of "things i probably won't continue" folder. i guess you could say i'm haunted,
more seriously though i sometimes have like. the shape of something i think would be a good story, or worth writing. but i have difficulty getting it out of first-draft-hell, or draft-hell in general, and then it never sees the light of day (metaphorical, since i don't post my work like. anywhere. it's just in a google drive somewhere). writing hard. man 🐴
i'm also haunted by all the fics i read back in like. middle school where characters got grossly mischaracterized for the sole purpose of shipping two other ones together 🗿
i put the other two under the cut bc it a little long
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
i think i spitballed this one in vc at some point. maybe you were there for it? i do not remember. but it's the "v1, post gabe death, in the process of becoming more sentient, realizes some things."
i think i originally intended this to be read as romantic, and i think gabe did have feelings™. but now that i started writing it, i don't think i'll get to a point where v1 realizes that it might've had/have feelings (romantic) as well. which is fine by me. it can probably still be read as romantic if you looked at it through that lens, but that's not as important to me
tragedy makes me oug, even if i only read it sparingly. i enjoyed the concept of v1 realizing that it cared for gabriel, and that gabriel cared for it (both in their. yknow. their ways, not traditional), but too late to make anything of it now that he's dead, by v1's own hand. also liked rotating that gabriel would recognize his own feelings, and him knowing that v1 had no way of reciprocating them at that time, and just. accepting that, and giving it a last gift before his impending demise.
on the scale of what i have written/planned though, one detail that wasn't intended but i liked was that v1 finds it boring, post-gabe-death, in treachery. even though the enemies are tough (no lesser husks), it's easy to it now, after several layers. none of them offer anything it hasn't seen before. and boredom was the first noted sign of sentience in terminals (see p-2's terminal). i just thought that wrapped over well, even if v1 isn't quite there yet
34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:
^ if this was meant to be an example of an oxford comma, i think they messed up. i don't think i'm consistent on whether i use it or not ngl. if it feels natural to pause there i probably add it, and if it don't then i don't. i use a lot of unnecessary commas ngl. it's one of the things i have in my mental list of "what to cull during the last few editing stages" lol
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Writers ask: 4, 18, 24, 34?
Writer Asks!
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
hmmm I can't really think of a word immediately, but I'm not a fan of the word 'digits' for fingers. Dunno why, and sometimes I do use the word, it's just... weird.
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.
Ummm okay hang on...
And yet, despite all that, there’s a part of Sang-woo that would give Gi-hun the world if he asked for it.
Of course, he’d burn it, too, if Gi-hun wished. The two of them could watch from the stars how the earth they knew blazes and becomes a sun in its own right. Despite Gi-hun’s incompetence, Sang-woo can’t help but want to grant the man everything he’s ever wanted in life, to sit with him on the edge of the universe and watch the planets circle round and round until they’re all nothing but dust.
Another part of him, the leopard instinct deep inside, wants to eliminate the one weakness holding him back, to stand on his own without the burden of feelings. He wants to crash his lips against Gi-hun’s, to taste him in every way he can, and then tear into his throat and watch him bleed out around them both, savoring the last bit of life in his eyes as it fades.
The red would look beautiful on this tuxedo he’s been given.
So the wording of this passage (from Mottled, my Squid Game oneshot) was changed around a lot, but I ended up quite satisfied with it. I wanted to show how much I feel Sang-woo would love and feel loyal to Gi-hun, yet also want to destroy his only weakness in that same man he loves. Plus... metaphors are fun. :D
24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?
So it really depends on the project, but usually, it's just a "open Google Docs and start writing" sort of thing. And I'll leave it for days on end and just go back to it when I feel like it. There's really no planning unless it's a multichapter. Sometimes when I'm bored at work, I'll imagine where my stories are going, and sometimes I'll even write down scene ideas, but... it's not like a tried-and-true method, haha.
34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:
I... I like it? I know there's some discourse about it, but I do think it's necessary.
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so season 6 of lucifer came out.
there were some things that i liked, but generally i hated it. i believe that was SUCH. BAD. WRITING and it left me frustrated. so i decided to write down all things that pissed me off and sometimes i try to fix this by giving other ideas that – in my opinion – would have made the story better. Check my points out and feel free to add your points of view. without further ado: let’s talk.
- imma start with the big one – fucking time travel. ok I generally hate this trope in the media, because it’s complicated and often leads to some logical mistakes – and they happened here. so rory time travels because of her anger which was caused… by her anger?? i think this was unnecessary. it also brings trouble with this whole free will vs. fate discourse. lucifer says, that he chooses free will… but at the same time he goes the path of his fate. he disappears from rory’s life, because he HAS TO in order of the events of the season to happen. just because he chose to do it, doesn’t mean it’s free will.
- lucifer becomes the very thing he desperately didn’t want to become. “bUt It WaS fOr ThE gReAtEr GoOd” screw this bullshit, if writers wanted to make it better, they could have easily do so. they could have altered the rules of time travel so that his choice of staying could have resulted in rory disappearing. yes, that would have been heart-breaking, but it would have been a great lesson for lucifer, that he can’t make the same mistakes his father did.
- chloe and Lucifer get a child without even talking about it. “bUt MaYbE tHeY tAlKeD aBoUt It We JuSt DiDn’T sEe It” you may say. but the point of writing anything - whether it’s a book or a script – is to show any thing that matters. and talking about having kids is one of the most things any couple should do. also not every couple needs to have kids and forcing deckerstar to have it feels so far-fetched. this thread was very unnecessary.
- rory herself is a big problem. to begin with – she wanted to KILL her FATHER. i get her frustration, but commiting a murder?? just because he wasn’t there for her?? I would have thought that chloe taught her better, taught her that, like, killing people is bad. turns out she did not. secondly… she just isn’t necessary here. i elaborate later so in conclusion – her thread could be altered with michael’s and it would have made much more sense. i also don’t like the actress (why was she blinking so much??) so i certainly didn’t help.
- of course ella has to end up with a boyfriend. because earlier she always ended up with “bad boys” and now, without any help, she is just able to have a healthy relationship! yay! for me this creates a toxic view, that in order to be happy one HAS TO be in a relationship, because being alone is aLwAyS bAd. well, it’s not.
- i also have troubles with lucifer starting up a foundation for her. firstly, he didn’t ask her. secondly it – AGAIN – shows, that anything good ella got, was because of another man. firstly because of her relationship with carol, secondly because of lucifer’s idea. it could have been so easily altered! there could have been a scene of a conversation e.g. with amenadiel where she expressed a will to do better and be better for someone (given that she sees a lot of dark in herself). amenadiel could have then told her, that she is an inspiration and that it is her biggest strength. that could have been where ella came up with an idea to start a foundation blah blah – it’s just a rough idea but I believe that written well, it could have been so much better;
- and the last thing about ella – of course she had to find out about celestial stuff because sHe WaS tHe OnLy OnE rEmAiNiNg. umm what about trixie? i'll come back to her later. ella was portrayed as the only one believing in god and having her seeing that he really exists ruins the concept of faith. it’s not about knowing something exists, it’s about believing in it.
- WHERE THE FUCK IS MICHAEL. i must admit that i loved this character AND I CAN’T STAND HOW AWFULLY HE WAS TREATED HERE. so at the end of season 5 lucifer says “everyone deserves a second chance, even you michael". and what does he do then? COMMANDS HIS TWIN TO CLEAR THE FLOOR IN HELL. yes, i agree that michael should have been punished for his rebellion plan, but… he already has his wing cut off. now he’s stuck in hell, with no way out and is he supposed to learn his lesson? this is cruel. instead of this the entire season could have been centred on him – his journey to self-acceptance, learning how manipulating someone is toxic and starting to realise how to be a better person. at the end he could have become god (because amenadiel is such an obvious choice), which would create a beautiful connection – michael in heaven and his twin in hell.
- lucifer doesn’t feel like being god and that’s cool. damn. people died for him to win this place and he’s like “actually you know guys i’m not the right person bye”. while i believe that anyone should step out if they have a reason, but at the same time lucifer should have faced any consequences of his decisions. falling frog and kool aid in the river are not enough.
- adam’s plot feels just quickly sketched, not actually written. i really appreciate this take on toxic masculinity but it all felt too fast-paced. it’s good that they show this idea of “strong and not-showing-any-feelings man” kind of attitude, but it is impossible for ANYONE (especially The ManTM) to change their mind in a matter of a few days. it takes weeks, months, years even, especially given that adam is like a gazillion years old, he should have especially taken a long time to process this.
- carol is just too pure to exist. he’s also one of the most boring, plain and one-dimensional character i’ve ever seen. i feel like they gave him a problem with alcohol because the writers were like “hmmmmm he has to have some weakness. LET’S MAKE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC”. we don’t see any signs of his everyday struggle, why did he fell into this problem, how did struggle. it just feels like a dull plot device to show that he has flaws. oh and also he’s so pure that he doesn’t mind ella BREAKING INTO HIS HOUSE. acceptance should have boundaries and violating someone’s personal space isn’t right.
- why did they forget about trixie again? yes, i know that scarlett estevez had another project but this does not justify the bad writing. the girl lost her father and we only see her crying once because of that. no signs of this affecting her everyday life, not showing any consequences of her relationships with other people, not glimpse of any change in her behaviour. oh and also she loses lucifer too because time travel! great idea, writers! losing another close to her person would have been soooooo good for her psychic for sure.
- i also hate the idea that suddenly rory becomes the only child they care for. where is trixie when they spend their day on the beach? where is she when her mother dies? did writers forget about her as well as they did about michael?
- amenadiel being a police officer is… problematic. i was looking forward to this thread, i was kinda scared too and it turned out… meh. i’m white and not American, so this of course does not involve me at all, but i felt like this was not enough. harris basically said that there is nothing they can do to make it better for black folks. even though chloe and amenadiel want to make everything more just, we don’t actually see any change. the only thing is that harris becomes a detective (right? i’m not sure if i understood it correctly, so correct me if i’m wrong, please) which is a total contradiction of what she said before. suddenly she does not have to protect people anymore?
- in season 5 they stated that heaven and hell need to be fixed, as the system is unfair and unjust. at the end we don’t see any change, the only thing that is different is lucifer helping damned souls. it doesn’t help at all! these people still go to hell, they still suffer and there’s nothing that changed here! plus there is also this thing, that a sociopath who murdered people in cold blood goes to heaven (because he does not feel any guilt) and a person abused by her parents/partner/whoever goes to hell (because have been manipulated to feel guilt).
- dan making amends with trixie while… there wasn’t really anything to make amends about. like, most of the parents make mistakes while upbringing their children, but does this make them unworthy of heaven? i would have preferred dan to slowly regain his self-consciousness, how he positively affected the lives of people around him and by doing so – through conversations or maybe reliving some of the memories, he could have proved to himself that he is worthy of love and redemption.
phew, what a ride. i really liked dan being reunited with charlotte (it went just as i imagined) and mazeve dynamics. i even felt like they are finally a real life relationship – with people hurting each other by not understanding each other, but then talking and seeing other’s perspective. generally though, i’m very disappointed.
sorry for any mistakes, lacking commas etc. writing a text this long in not my native language was not easy.
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The drug in me is you.
Pairing: Doll maker!Kun x female reader.
Genre: Strangers to lovers, doll making | Fluff, angst, mature content.
Warnings: This is NOT what a healthy relationship is, this is pure fiction.
Manipulation, obsession, explicit major character death, non-explicit mention of death, violence, blood, alcohol consumption, oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight dirty talk, protected sex, drug use (note that the reader is unaware of the drugs being used at first, Kun tells her later) + The sex happens before Kun starts using the drugs on the reader.
Plot: One night, you met Kun in a bar. Kun was handsome, kind, caring, intelligent but he was also obsessed with dolls. You thought it was funny, until he made you one of his many dolls. Fear not, you are not just any doll, you are his best creation.
Word count: +10k.
A/N: Happy Valentine’s day guys! This is part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by @du0tine. Please mind the warnings. Title from Falling in Reverse.
Tag list: @moondustaeil, @prettyjaems, @svchengss, @jaehyvnsvalentine, @xiaojunssmile
Chapter zero: his best creation.
It is said that the eyes are a window to the soul, but when they look at you, your eyes are glassy, it is impossible to read the slightest emotion, your soul is empty, your soul has been replaced by a void, by the nothingness. Yet, you smile. A smile that is hard to describe, it is not forced, but it is not genuine either. It's just there.
You look at yourself in the bedroom mirror, and you hardly recognize yourself. Your fingers rest on the choker that adorns your neck, and for a brief second, your smile wears off, and your eyes seem to clear, but it disappears just as quickly. The choker is in red satin, a heart-shaped pendant in the middle. A letter is engrave on it. K.
The alarm on your phone makes you jump, and you turn to the object on the nightstand. It's time for you to go downstairs for breakfast. Kun must already be waiting for you. You turn off the alarm, and leave the room. If the bedroom is warm, the hallways are cold, or maybe it is just the cold from the tiling under your feet creeping into your body.
The marble stairs shine under your passage, and you do not dare to put your hand on the railing, of fear of leaving a trace. The house is immaculate, pristine. Anyone entering the house unexpectedly would think that no on lives here, that this is just a show house. This is what you also believed the first time you came here. Everything is in its place. Everything is perfect, just like Kun.
You walk into the dining room, and you see Kun. He is seated at the table, his laptop where a plate should be, but you know that in the morning, he likes to work while you eat, so he can spend a little more time with you before going to work. And you appreciate that. At least, you think you do.
The chair creaks as you pull it away from the table, and Kun looks up from his screen. He takes off his glasses which he puts on the table, and he smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "Good morning, my love, how are you?" you hold out your hand for him, and he takes it to place a tender kiss on the back. "I'm fine. I missed you in bed this morning."
Kun nods, and he gets up from his chair to fill your plate with fresh fruits, and pancakes drenched in maple syrup, just the way he knows you like them. "I'm sorry, doll, I had some late work to finish." if you live for Kun, Kun lives for his work. It is sad, but that's how life is sometimes, but that does not mean he does not love you.
"Eat everything." he says, and you nod, picking up your fork. He takes your glass and pours some squeezed orange juice into it. He turns to a locked glass cabinet, and takes out a small bottle filled with a translucent liquid. He drops a few drops in the glass, and you watch him to it, your head cocked to the side. "What is that?" you ask, and he sighs.
"I told you before, it helps keep you a sweet little doll." you nod again, you seem to have heard that phrase once or twice before, even though Kun has had to remind you every morning for months now. But he doesn't mind, he likes to remind you that it is thanks to him that you are such a sweet doll. He kisses the top of your head, and you close your eyes at the contact.
"Am I your favorite doll?" you ask before stuffing a strawberry into your mouth. Kun sits down again, and he watches you for a second. "Of course. Of all the dolls I made, you are the one I love the most, you are my best creation."
Chapter one: finding the doll.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
You are surprised to hear a voice above the hubbub of music and conversations in the bar where you are. At first, you expect to find Taeyong grinning like an idiot, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he's been drinking ever since you arrived, but when you turn on your stool, you frown when you see a man you've never seen before. You tilt your head to the side.
"And why would I say yes?" you ask, and the man smile. He has two dimples that make him look a little more childhish, a thin layer of sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, but he is still handsome in the dimmed lights of the bar. The first two buttons of his shirt are open, and you can't help but glance at the sliver of skin. "The question is, why would you say no?"
You do not have an answer to that, so you nod and the man sits on the stool next to you. He calls out the bartender, and asks to put two glasses of whatever you were drinking. "My name is Kun." he says, turning to you, and he holds out his hand. Hand that you squeeze for a brief moment. "Y/n." he smiles once more. "Pleased to meet you."
"So what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asks, and you shrug, sliding your index finger across the rim of your glass. "This is my brother's bar." you explain, and you see the colors disappear from Kun's face, and when he is about to open his mouth, probably to apologize, you smile. "I'm just kidding. My best friend got dumped, so I'm here to support him as he drowns his grief in overpriced cocktails."
Kun's shoulders relax, grinning. "What about you?" he brings the glass to his lips to take a sip, and he winces at the sligh burn of the liquid in his throat. "Terrible day at work, I needed to relax." he explains in a low voice. "It's true that being in a crowded bar that smells like sweat and cheap alcohol is the best way to unwind from a day at work." you say, looking at him above your glass.
Kun chuckles softly as he puts his glass back on the bar, he rests his fingers beside it, and immediately regrets his decision when he feels how sticky the bar is. "It's always better than being alone at home." he says, and you agree, altough you are more the type to relax in bed with music rather than in a crowded and noisy bar. You would never have entered this place in your life if Taeyong had not begged you to come with him for over an hour earlier.
"Tell me about you, Kun." you ask, finishing your drink in one go, and you turn on your stool to face him. "I work in my best friend's law firm, I have a dog, and I love reading." he speaks in a bored manner, and you bite the bottom of your lip so as not to laugh. "I'm not the most interesting person here." you shrug, putting your hands flat on your thighs. "That's true, but there must be more than that, come on Kun, don't be shy."
Kun seems to think about it for a minute or so, yes he has more than that, but he can't really afford to tell you, not during your first meeting. His idea is to have a good time, and why not bring a girl back to his house, not to scare anyone and end up in prison that same evening. "I have an obsession with dolls."
This time around, you can't contain your laughter, and Kun is not offended, this is what he was expecting. "Dolls? Like barbies, or porcelain dolls?" you ask after catching your breath, you appreciate his presence, you do not want to see him go so soon, so you have to look and sound interested. "Porcelain dolls, but they are different, they all have stories."
"Stories? What do you mean?" you tilt your head, and Kun turns on his stool too. His knees bang against yours, and you glide your gaze down your legs for a brief moment. "These are not just porcelain dolls you would find in a store, they all come to my house with a clear story, and it is up to me to make sure they end their lives peacefully, and happily." that's fucking weird. "I don't know if you are being serious, or if you are making fun of me Kun, and you know what? I'm not sure I actually want to know."
You do not know how, but you went from an odd discussion about Kun's obsession with dolls, to this situation. Pressed against the door of Kun's room, you pant while feeling Kun's lips on your neck, his teeth digging into your skin, his tongue soothing the burn right away. Kun's hands are everywhere, under your top, along your still clothed thighs, you do not know where to focus.
"You are so hot, doll." Kun whispers hotly against your ear, and you bite your lower lip. "Is that why you brought me here?" Because I remind you of a doll?" Kun's gaze meets yours and he smirks. "Perhaps." you roll your eyes, and before you have a chance to open your mouth, Kun drops to his knees, ignoring the burn of the carpet, and when you give him permission to continue, he busy himself by removing your pants and panties. He slips one of your legs over his shoulder, and he covers your thighs with hot burning kisses and bites.
Kun does everything he can to avoid the area you want him the most, and you begin to whimper impatiently. He laughs as he licks his last bite to soothe the pain, and he looks up at you. You look like a work of art, with your head thrown back against the door, your eyes half-open and parted lips. "What do you want, doll?" he asks, and you sigh. "I don't know. Everything. Give me everything Kun, don't be an asshole."
"Everything?" Kun asks, and you nod with vigor. "Alright, your wish is my command, doll." he kisses your ankle, and he brings his lips up close to your core, and he blows gently. The cold air makes you shiver slightly, and you close your eyes, resting one hand in Kun's hair, and the other on the door for stability, because as he slides a finger in between your folds, your knees buckle.
"You are so wet doll, and all because of a few kisses? Cute." you pull his hair lightly, and he growls. "Stop talking please." you mumble, and Kun shrugs his shoulders but with your eyes closed, you can't see him. Neither do you see him approach his face and replace his finger with his tongue. "Oh." that's all you can say before he lays his tongue flat against your clit.
You are convinced that Kun will spend the next few minutes teasing you, but he does not. He licks your clit with vigor, and you can't help but roll your hips for more contact, and his free hands keep your from moving too much, which make you whimper loudly. His mouth is hot, insanely so. He pushes a single digit into you, making you mewls, not expecting him to do so. "Such a good girl." he says, moving his face away to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.
"More, more, please." you whisper, and Kun obliges. A second, then a third finger join the first, and you bite your lower lip to cover your moans that are getting loud, and embarrassing, but Kun doesn't seem to agree with you. "That's what we are not going to do. I want to hear you." he says in a firm voice, slapping your thigh. You almost lose your balance, but he stops you from falling by resting his hand on your waist. His grip is strong, and you know you'll have bruises of the shape of his fingers for days.
You already feel so close to your orgasm, you can feel it, you can taste it on your tongue. Kun keeps stimulating your clit with his thumb while pumping his fingers in and out of you, your muscle tightens around his fingers and he loves the feeling of your hot, wet walls, so much that he feels himself throb in the confined of his jeans, he can't wait to put his cock to good use inside of you.
When you feel heat spreading through your body, Kun's fingers pull back and you whine. You feel empty, and you do not like that feeling, not with how good Kun's fingers made you feel. "No, no, why, I was so close." you sob, and Kun smiles when he sees a single tear run down your cheek, it is so beautiful to see how fucked out you look with only his fingers. "You will cum. Later. On my cock, doll." fuck. "If you are nice, I'll make you cum twice, how does that sound?" you nod, that's all you can do right now.
Kun puts your leg back on the floor, and when you lower your head to look at him, he slides his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of your juice, and you roll your eyes. "Kun." you are out of breath, and he straightens up before kissing you. He doesn't wait to get your permission before sticking his tongue into your mouth, and even though the kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing and salive gathering at the corner of your mouths, he puts his hands on your waist, to keep you upright because this simple kiss makes your legs feel like jelly, and he can feel it.
"Lie down on the bed." he orders, and you obey. You do not know how, but you get to the bed without tripping. Before lying down, you get rid of your last pieces of clothing before throwing them somewhere in the bedroom. You lie down, your head resting on Kun's pillows which smell of his perfume, and a mixture of sweat and soap, which is weirdly addicting, you think.
When you turn your head to look at him, you are disappointed to see that he is already undressed, but that's okay, you'll find another opportunity to touch his soft skin. He rummages in a drawer, and you see him walk up to the bed with a condom in hand, and without waiting, he climbs onto the bed to hover over you.
He places a quick kiss on your lips, and he begins to open the condom's packet, but you shake your head, resting your hands on his. "Let me do it." Kun nods, but he gasps when you push him to the other side of the bed to straddle his thighs. His cock is hard, the tip is red and leaking precum. You lean in, and run your tongue through the slit before swallowing the sticky liquid, all under Kun's hungry gaze.
"You drive me crazy." he groans, and you smile, perfect, you like that. You throw the condow packet on the floor, and before rolling it over his member, you lick the vein on the side from bottom to top, a groan snarling out of Kun's mouth. "Can I ride you?" you ask, while rolling the condom over his thick member. "Whatever makes you happy, doll."
You take his cock in your hand, and you nudge the tip over your entrance, you take a deep breath, and you ease the member gently. Kun's hands rest on your waist, and he gently helps you, and when finally you bottom out, he stays still. Yes, he wants to fuck you into oblivion, but he is also human, and he doesn't want to hurt you. At least not that way.
When you feel ready, you put your hands flat on Kun's chest and you roll your hips. "So tight, doll. You were made for me." Kun looks handsome from above, you think, looking at the way he bites his lower lip with every movements of your pelvis, the way his fingers tighten around your waist. But after a while, Kun starts to get impatient, and he plants his feet on the mattress to thrust harder into you.
"Oh fuck." you moan following the movement of his thrusts, but soon, you feel the burn in your thighs. You, who wanted to have a minimum of control, are already losing it as your legs fall asleep on either side of Kun's thighs. "Kun, Kun." you sob, your vision misted with tears once more. "Yes, doll, I'll take care of it." he pushes you onto the bed, and you wrap your legs around his waist when he enters you again.
He nestles his face in the crook of you neck, and he bites, hard. You close your eyes, a lewd sound coming out of your mouth and you throw your head back. Kun's thrusts are quick, strong, and deep, so much so that if you legs weren't secured around his waist, you would be pushed against the headboard. He is not holding back, and fuck you are grateful for it.
Kun sits up, and his hands grip the headboard to speed up his thrusting if that's even possible. His cock rocks against your sweet spot, and your orgasm crash over you without you even realizing it. You vision turns black, and you see stars for a moment as Kun growls when your walls tighten deliciously around his lenght. "Oh fuck, yes." he kisses you but fucked stupid like you are, you are unable to kiss back, all you can do is pant, and whimper at how sensitive you feel.
"One more?" he asks in a soft voice, which contrasts with the way he pounds into you. You are not sure you can do it, but you nod anyway, your body might hate you tomorrow, but it will be worth it. Despite everything, Kun opens his mouth. "What's your color?" he asks, and even though it takes a minute for you to figure out what he is asking, you speak out, in a broken voice. "Green, green, Kun." Great.
Kun doesn't know if he wants to cum, or if he wants to spend the rest of the night fucking you. It is so good, and at the same time, he wants to taste the sweet release he can feel creeping up slowly. He keeps thrusting, his knuckles turning white from the force with which he squeezes the headboard, and even his growls get louder. As for you, a flood of moans mixed with his name flows from your lips which he kisses, and bites hard enough that the skin breaks and a drop of blood flows before he licks it clean.
"Close, close." that's all you moan, and it's enough for Kun to understand. He nods, and one of his hands slides between your bodies to your clit, which he strokes with his thumb. You grab Kun's shoulders and dig your fingernails into the skin, and that's what seems to do, Kun cums in the condom. You feel it. You feel the hot cum against your walls even with the latex in between, and your legs start to shake with the intensity of your second orgasm.
Kun continues to thrust, slowly this time, riding his orgasm, but you are so sensitive that you shake your head. It is too much. "Stop, stop, please, I can't take it anymore." Kun obeys, and he stops his movements and he cages your face with his hands, being careful not to put his full weight on you. "It was perfect. You were perfect, doll." he whispers near your lips before kissing you for quite a while, and much more tenderly than before. And when he pulls out for air, he gets up from the bed to remove the condom and put it in the trash. You feel really empty, but ready to fall asleep.
When Kun returns to the bedroom with a damp cloth, he finds you asleep. You seem peaceful, so much that he doesn't want to wake you up and force you to go home, not that he wants you gone, so he doesn't. He puts on some sweatpants, and he lies down next to your after cleaning you briefly, and covering your naked body with a blanket, and he watches your for a moment before he too falls asleep, a smile on his face.
Chapter two: the morning after.
It is around 11am when you open your eyes. At first, you are lost. You do not recognize the sheets your are in, and you do not recognize the scent around you. The presence next to you is foreign, and it takes you two or three minutes to remembers. The bar with Taeyong. Your meeting with Kun. Kun! You spent the night with Kun, now you remember, and when you turn your head, you see a tuft of blonde hair coming out of the comforter.
Oh fuck, Taeyong!
You left the bar last night without telling him you were ditching him to go home with a complete stranger. You get out of bed slowly, ignoring the pain in your legs, and you find your pants neatly folded on what you supposed is Kun's desk, and you are definitely not the one who did that. Your top and lingerie are laid aside, and you wonder if all the one night stands are as kind and considerate as the sleeping man. But you doubt it. In your pants pocket you take out your phone, and you are surprised to see only two messages from Taeyong.
From Yong: I'm leaving with someone, don't wait for me.
From Yong: Can you come get me? Pretty please?
The last message was sent less than twenty minutes ago, which means he must still be waiting for you, and probably with one hell of a hangover. You are glad you didn't drink more than two drinks last night. You put your clothes on, and before leaving the room, you find a piece of paper to write down your number, and a little note. "Call me." and you leave the room.
The problem is, you do not know where you are. You do not know which part of town he took you to, you were to busy cleaning Kun's tonsils with your tongue in the taxi to watch where they were driving you. All you know is that you are in a house, with marble stairs, and modern decor without a hint of dust around you. You go down the stairs, not daring to put your hand on the railing, and you wonder if Kun decided to illegaly enter a show house the night before.
Everything is clean, tidy. Everything is in the image of Kun, perfect. The front door is unlocked, which greatly simplifies the task of leaving like a thief. You dial Taeyong's number, and the boy answers immediately. "Where are you? I'm tired, I want to go to sleep." he says in a hoarse voice, and you look around. "I wish I knew, Yong." you walk down the street, at least until you find a street name. You are in a nice neightborhood, the kind you never go to, way too far from your comfort zone.
"What do you mean you don't know where you are?" Taeyong asks, and you roll your eyes. "I left the bar with a guy last night, and I don't know where I am!" you hear Taeyong giggle before growling, probably from his pounding headache. "Slut." you sigh, as you look around. You probably look suspicious. "You can talk, you did the same." you mumble, and you hear him say something to an unknown voice, so you take the opportunity to hang up to call a taxi, it's the only way for you to get home. Or at least to get to Taeyong, then you can figure it out together.
Chapter two and a half: Kun.
The following week, busy with work and with well, life, you stopped thinking about him, about Kun. You stopped thinking about the night you spent together, you stopped thinking about his hands, his lips, his scent, you just stopped. Work is mostly the cause, and also Taeyong who spends most of his time whinning about his ex partner, he is not recovering from his breakup, and it's tiring, really.
And when your phone rings, an unknown number appearing on your screen, you answer without a second thought. The perfect way to get you killed, Taeyong said once, but maybe one of your friends changed number and need something, you can't take the risk. But when you hear the voice, you do not recognize it. "Hello?" the silence is rather short. "Y/n, hello! How are you? Sorry I took so long to call, I was busy and didn't know if you actually wanted that." you frown, sitting on the sofa, the rerun of a show playing on the television. "I'm sorry, but who is it?"
"It's Kun?" the man says in an uncertain voice, and you remember. "Ah, Kun. Hi, I'm okay, and you, are you doing alright? Sorry for leaving last time, but my friend needed me." Kun makes a sound of aknowledgment before speaking. "Don't worry, I understand. I wanted to know if you wanted to meet?" you hesitate. You are not used of sleeping around with a man you met in a bar, so you are not sure if you really want to see him again. But also, why the hell not, you have the next week free of work, might as well make the most of it. "Yeah, why not."
"Do you remember the bar where we met? There's a café across the street, maybe we could meet up there later. Is around 3pm okay?" he asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Yeah that's fine with me. See you later." the man lets you know that he is excited to see you, and you hang up. You have a few more hours left, so you huddle once more in your blanket, and watch the television, wondering if going out is actually worth it.
Chapter three: How to make a doll: step one.
The meeting/date in the café is what changed your life.
You were not sure you wanted to see Kun, and yet, a month later, you are unable to part with him. There is something appealing about Kun, something highly addicting. He is kind, caring, smart and of course, he is breathtakingly beautiful with his dimples, soft eyes and honey-like voice.
The mere thought that one day he might not want you anymore is painful. You can't imagine your life without Kun, without his smile, without his kisses, without his hands that make you feel things that you've never felt before. And without his love, because Kun's love is amazing, it's like he has not limit to the love he gives, no matter what he receives in return.
When he tells you that he loves you, you feel like hearing it for the first time, every time. You have butterflies in your stomach when he looks at you, or when he talks about you like you are the eighth wonder of the world to his friends and colleagues. You are proud to be with Kun, because you know he could have had any girl, and yet, you are the one he decided to choose. The one he decided to love more than anything.
"Y/n? Come have a glass of water." you smile when you hear your name coming out of Kun's mouth, it's like hearing the most beautiful melody, the way it rolls on his tongue. And he is so attentive too, you think and you leave the living room to join him in the kitchen. He is sitting on a stool around the kitchen island, and he hands you a glass of water, which you take, smiling. "Thanks Kun." you say, and he smiles too, dimples in full display. "You are welcome, doll."
You take a sip of water, then a second, and you grimace. "What's wrong?" he asks, tilting his head. "I don't know, the water tastes weird." Kun shakes his head, and takes a sip of hiw own glass. "I don't feel it, it must be you. You stay too long without drinking, you forget the taste." when Kun says something, you take him at his word, so you shrug and finish your drink. "Sit down with me for a bit." he pats the stool next to him, and you settle down, your head immediately resting on the shoulder of your boyfriend who kisses your forehead.
You stay like that, in silence, for a few minutes before Kun opens his mouth. "How are you feeling?" he asks, and you frown. If he had not asked you the question, you certainly would not have realized the fatigue that suddenly fell on your body. Your eyelids are heavy, and you limbs feel numb, your mouth is dry, and movements around you seem to be slowing down. "I do not know." you whisper tiredly. "My poor little doll." Kun responds, without a hint of pity in his voice.
Chapter four: Bad doll?
This is not the only time the feeling of losing control of your body sets in. At first it's once a week, and now it's every morning, but you adjust pretty well to the side effects, and Kun is so nice to you when you feel bad, he takes care of you, he makes sure that you drink enough water, and that you eat enough food. He regularly returns from work at lunchtime to cook for you, and to remind you how wonderful you are, and how proud he is of you.
He gives you presents, but the one you prefer is the choker you never part with. You love the color, and the pendant reminds you that Kun is near you, even when he is not at home, and that's all you need. Time passes, and yet you do not realize it. You stopped responding to Taeyong, and even going to work. Kun said you did not have to go anymore, he may very well support the two of you with his job alone. No, you do not realize anything. You only see Kun, only hear Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. His name echoes like a mantra in your head.
Today, going down the stairs, you are surprised to not hear the slightest noise. When Kun is at home, he enjoys playing music on his turntable. He says that even though the sound is not as crisps there, it is much better, he can appreciate the music more, but now you can't hear anything. Not even the sound of his computer keyboard where he spends most of his time when he is not at the office.
"Kun?" you ask, poking your head through the living room door, which is empty and as clean as usual, if not a little cleaner. You walk into the kitchen, and you pout when you notice that he is not there either, but a note is stuck on the fridge door.
"My doll, my beautiful doll.
I'm sorry, but I had to leave for work. I know I promised to take you to the movies, but a case we are working on must be finished today, the trial having been brought forward. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to cook for you, and I'm so sorry. You can cook for yourself, but please be careful with the knives. Remember to drink at least 5 glasses of water today. I have my phone if you need anything.
I love you.
Kun."
You silently read Kun's words and nod. It's a shame, you were excited to go to the movies. You really haven't been out of the house since moving in with Kun. At least you think you moved here. Kun bought you enough clothes to fill a full closet, and your mind is far too cloudy to think about the clothes you already own, and the apartment you were renting back then.
You do not know if it's because Kun is not here, or because you are too lazy to cook, but you are not hungry. You come out of the kitchen, and once in the lobby of the house, you look around. You do not know what you are supposed to do. Even though Kun leaves you alone to go to work pretty much every day, he still advises you to do certain acitivites, or you usually feel far too tired to do anything.
But today, you feel good. Still a bit groggy, but much better than usual.
A name suddenly comes to your mind, for the first time in months, and you frown. Your heart does a weird thing when you think of this person. Not the same as when you think of Kun, but differently. A certain warmth spreads through your body, and you realize that you actually miss this person. Taeyong. You know you were used to spend a lot of time together, and that you even decided to save your money to find a big apartment to live in together.
He forgot about me, you think.
But you do not realize that you forgot about him, not the opposite. But you are too lost in your own head to realize it. You walk up the stairs, being careful not to put your fingers on the white wall or the railing, and push the door to the room you share with Kun. The decor has changed since the first time you came here. Several pictures of you, and you and Kun together are on the walls, and your favorite color can be found in small touches on the satin sheets, on the curtains, and a few trinkets here and there.
You find your phone in the bedside table drawer, and when you try to turn it on, nothing happens. After so long, the battery must be dead. Finding a charger is not difficult, you just have to walk around the bed to Kun's place. You take it, and you return to the living room. For some reason, you do not like being in the room on your own, you feel like you are being watched, it makes you uncomfortable.
Once in the living room, you plug in the phone, and while waiting for it to turn on, you turn on the television. A serie is playing, and even though you do not understand it, you watch, your head resting on a pillow, and soon, you find yourself wrapped in your favorite blanket, ready to fall asleep. So much for feeling full of energy.
When you open your eyes, you are hardly surprised to see the living room bathed in darkness. It often happens to you, to close your eyes before realizing that night has already fallen. It takes a moment before your eyes get used to the darkness that is only broken by a lit bedsite lamp next to Kun. Kun who is seated on an armchair, his arms crossed against his toned chest. You sit up, smiling. "You are back."
Normally, Kun would smile. He would get up to give you a long, tender hug and ask you how your day was. But today, he doesn't. He looks tired, stressed and disappointed. It is indeed an emotion you have never seen on his beautiful face, disappointment. "What's wrong?" you ask as you sit on the couch, legs crossed, your blanket falling from your shoulders, revealing the same pajamas you wore last night.
You look down, and notice that your phone is in Kun's hand, and tild your head. "Why?" he asks, pointing to the phone. "Why what?" He gets up, and he sits down next to you. You are not afraid, you know Kun will never hurt you, but you also do not know what to expect. You have never seen him angry except at one of his colleagues on the phone, and each time he makes sure to leave the room so that you do not see, or hear anything.
"Am I not enough?" he asks in a voice so weak that you wonder if you heard correctly. "Why do you ask me this?" he sighs and puts the phone down on the coffee table, it's on this time, and you can see the many notifications when the screen lights up. That can't be good, you think, but you do not even think about reaching for the phone, since Kun turns your head to face him by gripping your chin between two fingers.
You frown, your mouth opening slightly at his sudden move. "You haven't touched your phone since you've been here, and today you decided to do it, because you knew I wasn't coming back, why?" he asks in a firm voice, and you avoid his gaze, which doesn't seem to please him. "Good dolls look at me when I talk to them." he says with clenched teeth, and you shake your head. "I- I'm not a doll."
Kun scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. You are not, you are right. You don't deserve to be one of my dolls." this sudden realization makes you open your eyes wide, shaking your head. "What? Of course I deserve it!" when he shakes his head, your eyes fill with tears and he refrains from stroking your cheeks to calm you down. "No. A doll doesn't look to see someone else when I'm not around." it's crazy how fast a few words made you change your mind about being a doll.
You manage to extricate yourself from his grip, and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kun is surprised at your sudden behavior, and even though he knows he cannot give in, stay firm, he does nothing to stop it. But he doesn't touch you either, even though his hands only want one thing: to rest on your waist. "You are wrong, Kun, I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to watch, and I didn't even do it, I fell asleep before it turned on." you speak in a quick manner. "Hey, breathe." he says, and you take a deep breath.
Kun looks at his watch, and he makes a noise of surprise or aknowlegdment, you don't really know. "Did you drink any water today?" he asks, and you are surprised at the sudden change of tone in Kun's voice. "No, I was sleeping." now, he understands. "That's why you decided to act like this! You silly goose, you know you need to drink." you pout when Kun puts you down on the couch, because you already miss Kun's warm touch and scent. "I'll be right back."
A minute or two later, Kun returns with a glass of water in his hand, and he hands it to you. "Drink it all." you nod and take the glass to drink the content. Over time, you started to ignore the weird aftertaste that burns your throat a bit when Kun give you something to drink. He settles down next to you again to pull you onto his lap without waiting, except this time, he wraps his arms around your waist to press your chest against his. "You can't disobey me anymore, okay?" you nod.
"Yes, I will not do it again, I promise." he puts his hand on the back of your head, and he pulls you in for a languid kiss. But before you can initiate anything, he breaks the kiss. "I'm so sorry, I just want to be a good doll." you whisper close to his ear, and he smiles weakly. "I know that my love, and you are, it's just that sometimes you get distracted. But that won't happen again, I'll make sure of it myself."
Chapter five: Taeyong.
For the following weeks, Kun makes sure not to leave you alone for too long. And the more time passes, the less able you feel to regain full control over your body. Kun does everything for you, he doesn't let you lift a finger, if only to clear your plate. If your thought were yours, you would wonder when he plans on spoon feed you himself, but they haven't belonged to you for a long time.
Sometimes you have moments of lucidity. Your eyes clear, and your memories come back, the times you spent with Taeyong, the life you had before meeting Kun, and during those brief moments, you wonder if you'll ever get back to those times you genuinely took for granted. You began to write in a notebook what you remember in these moments, and the time when it happens. And every time, it is before breakfast, when you get out of bed.
Like all plans, Kun's isn't foolproof, luckily you manage to keep it to yourself. You refuse to think about what would happen if he ever found out that sometimes you become yourself, Y/n, and not Kun's doll. Even in these times, you are not afraid of Kun, because you know he'll never hurt you, at least not physically, he is way too sweet, and too in love to do it. Because yes, despite the mental ordeal he makes you live on a daily basis, he loves you, you know it.
Maybe you should stop forcing yourself to remember your old life, and come to terms with what you have become. Maybe you'll get used to it, and start to appreciate what is offered to you, you think, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the only place you can have a little bit of privacy. You rub cold water on your face, because you know that in a few minutes, when Kun gives you your drink, you will not be yourself. And when you turn to take the towel, you hear a little noise coming from the bedroom.
You frown, it is not Kun, you can hear the noises coming from the kitchen. So you come out of the bathroom, and you follow the noise that continues, to Kun's bedsite table which you open, and what a surprise when you find your phone. It's on, and Taeyon's photo appears on the screen. You take it, and with a trembling hand, you answer.
"Hello?" you ask, and the noise you hear coming from Taeyong is barely describable. It's a mix of surprise and relief. "Oh my god, Y/n! Do you have any idea how scared I've been for months?" you bite your lower lip. "I'm sorry." you answer, and he growls from the other side. You can't imagine what he felt. "Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?"
When you are about to answer, you hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom door. "I have to go." and you hang up before shoving the phone in the drawer before closing it. And when the door opens, you turn to him, smiling. "Is everything okay?" Kun asks, and you walk up to him, nodding your head. "Perfectly fine, I was ready to come down." you put your hands on his chest, and you kiss Kun softly.
Kun answers to the kiss, one of his hands fiddling with the pendant of your necklace. He doesn't express it very often, but he is extremely proud to see you wearing it every day. It shows that you belong to him, even if you do not need it, you prove it to him every day. "Come eat." he says against your lips, and you take his hand to exit the room.
Once in the kitchen, you drink the glass of juice offered to you, and the effects come much faster now. And when you are finally in Kun doll's mindset, you feel stupid for answering Taeyong, so much so that you feel ready to confess everything to him, and ask him to throw the phone away for you to no longer be tempted, but you do not. "I love you Kun." you say, which surprises the man who smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "I love you too, doll, more than anything in the world."
Chapter six: Yes, bad doll.
Kun has to go to work.
To do that, he made sure to give you a double dose last night, to make sure he wouldn't have to deal with another scene like last time. He trusts you, but you can never be too careful, he thinks, looking at you. You are sleeping peacefully, and you are so beautiful, he wonders what he has done to have a person like you in his life. You are the most beautiful doll, his best creation. However, when he met you, it was not a won situation. But you proved to him that you were capable of changing, and he would give his life for you.
He places a kiss on your forehead, and he pulls back when you stire in your sleep. For a second, he thinks he woke you up, but no, you turn, your breathing still deep. His little angel. He gets out of the room, takes his satchel, and leaves the house.
When you open your eyes, it is not because of the sun coming through the curtains, but because of the knocking on the door. You whine, and wonder when the noises will stop, but they don't. Kun must not have heard it, or he is not home. So reluctantly, you get out of bed. You have to hold on to the wall to walk, to avoid tripping. You feel feverish, and so so tired.
When, at least, you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you approach the door. Everything is silent, and you regret having moved, but as your turn on your heels, the knocking on the door resumes. You open it, and you frown when your eyes fall on a man. He is not very tall, his hair is pink and washed out. He looks like he has not slept in weeks, and when his eyes fall on you, you wonder if he is going to cry.
"Y/n!" he throws himself on you to hug you to his chest. You know if Kun witnessed the scene, you would be in trouble, and yet, you stay in the man's arms. The warmth that he gives off, his perfume, his simple way of being are not unknown to you. "Taeyong." you breath, and the boy pulls back, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "I hope you have some explanations for me, young lady. I've been looking for you for months!"
"How did you find me?" you ask, cocking your head. He is truly struggling to recognize you. Your eyes are glassy, and he can no longer see the happiness and mischief he used to read in your eyes back in the days. "Thanks to your phone. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." you nod, hugging your body with your arms. "Of course I'm safe. Kun takes good care of me, and he loves me very much. I love him too."
Taeyong frowns, he feels liks he is listening to a robot, or a pre-recorded message. It is no longer his best friend that he has in front of him, but someone else, and he does not know how to explain what exactly has changed so much, or what could have happened. He even wonder if you weren't brainwashed, joined a cult, or had a frontal lobotomy. He knows it's stupid, but he is stupid, and those are the only thought that come to him. He is far from reality.
"Can I come in?" Taeyong asks, trying to see the inside of the house over your shoulder, and you bite your lip. You are not sure Kun would enjoy seeing a stranger in his own home, but he is not here right now, and a good doll must also be a kind and welcoming host, so you shrug. "Yes, of course." you push yourself out of the door to let Taeyong in, he wolf-whistles when he sees the inside, and how clean and shiny everything is. "Wow.
You head for the kitchen. "You can sit if you want. Do you want something to drink?" you ask, but he shakes his head. "No thanks." he sits down on a stool around the kitchen island, and you sit across from him, your hands resting on the cold surface of the counter. "So? Tell me everything that happened." yes, you suspected he would ask you the question. "I met Kun in the bar where we were that night. And I don't know, things happened naturally after we saw each other again. I think moving here was the next logical step, it just happened."
"But that doesn't explain why you stopped responding to my messages, and giving signs of life." Taeyong's voice is painful, even for you. You sigh, playing with a thread on your pyjama sleeve. "I don't know, Taeyong." it's the truth, you do not even know why you stopped caring about your phone, you who spent most of your time on it. "But I'm sorry." are you really? Not really.
You spend the next two hours talking. Well, Taeyong talks about things that have happened over the past few months, and you listen. You try to smile, nod at the right time, and be happy to be with him again, but you can't stop thinking about Kun, and what he is going to think when he finds out he's been here today. Not that he is preventing you from having contact with the outside world, but seeing how he reacted when you wanted to use your phone, you suspect that he is not going to be very happy.
"...and Ten started screaming." Taeyong says, and you open your mouth to laugh, but instead, your mouth opens in a silent cry as Taeyong's face makes contact with the kitchen island in a violent manner. So violent that he loses consciousness almost immediately. Behind him, you see Kun, and what you read in his eyes is nothing but pure rage. Your breathing is plowed, and you get up from your chair.
"Why would you do that?" you ask in a panicked voice, and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "You should thank me." he says as he approaches Taeyong. He grabs his hair to lift his head, and you gag when you see the amount of blood on his face. "But he didn't do anything!" you defend, and he laughs coldly, so much so that an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine.
He lets Taeyong's head fall back, and he looks at you. It's not longer disappointment he is showing, but something more intense. He is scary, and yet he smiles at you. "You know, I really thought you were different. When I met you, I finally thought I had found it, the perfect doll. I loved you so much, and I would have given you everything, even my life, and yet you decided to betray me." you shake your head as you join Kun.
"I didn't betray you Kun. He came on his own, I didn't contact him. I didn't tell him anything, we didn't do anything either." you say, cupping Kun's face, but he takes a step back to avoid the contact almost immediately, and ouch, that hurts. "I love you Kun, I love you so much." you continue in a whisper, and he shakes his head.
"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have let him in. You would have told him to go, and you would have moved on with your day. But no, you decided to be a little slut." A little slut? You would never dare to do such thing. You love Kun, and only Kun. No matter what he puts you through every day trying to make you the perfect doll, you have never loved anyone as much as you love Kun.
"I'm not a slut, Kun. I'm your little doll." you say in a low voice, not daring to look Kun in the eyes anymore. You feel him approaching you, and you refrain from taking a step back. "Are you sure of that? Are you my perfect doll?" he asks, and you nod. "And what would my perfect doll do for me?" you lift your head, and run the tip of your tongue over your dry lips. "Anything Kun. I would do anything for you."
"Very well." that's all he says before heading to the locked cabinet. The one in which he takes the small bottle of transparent liquid every morning. The bottle is full, and you wonder how get manages to get so many. You follow his every move with your eyes, and you frown when you see him emptying the entire bottle into a glass. And he pours a small amount of fruit juice into the glass before mixing everything.
He hands you the glass, and he says. "Drink."
You shake your head with vigor, you do not intend to drink the content of this glass. Only god knows what could happen to you. "You said you would do anything for me, and I want you to drink." he walks up to you, and every time he takes a step forward, you take a step back. At least until your back makes contact with the kitchen wall. You are stuck, you know it, Kun is too fast, if you try to escape, he will catch up with you in an instant.
"You said you were a perfect little doll. And you know very well that dolls listen and obey when I ask them something." his voice is much softer now, and you get lost in his big dark eyes. So much love are in his eyes, so he might not be able to hurt you, right? He is just playing with you to see your reaction, to see what you are ready to do for him, right? Taeyong growls behind Kun, but he doesn't pay him the slightest attention. "So?"
"I'm going to drink, because I love you Kun, and I want you to know that I am your perfect doll. Your best creation." you say in a whisper as you take the glass, and Kun looks satisfied. You pursue your lips, and it takes a minute for you to muster the courage to open your mouth and drink the content of the glass. The taste is horrible, and the burning sensation in your throat makes you cough hardly. You drop the glass which shatters to the ground. Kun hasn't moved, unlike you, he is too busy looking at you. He knows what is going to happen, and for many reasons, and he doesn't want to miss a thing.
"You know, Y/n, I've had a lot of dolls before you. They were different from each other, and each time I thought I had found the right one, but each time, I was wrong. They always found a way to lie to me, and betray my trust. But when I saw you, when I saw the effort you were willing to make to please me, I really believed you would be the last." he cannot hide his disappointment, and his disgust.
"I loved all of my dolls, trust me, but you... I never felt something so strong for any of them. You were the exception. The one and only." you are having a hard time keeping your eyes open, and slowly, you slide along the wall. Not only do your legs seem to weight a ton, you feel like your heart is doing things it shouldn't be doing. It beats too fast, and too slowly at the same time.
You have chills, and a cold sweat covers your forehead, and rolls down your spine. Soon, your lungs are racing, and it becomes more and more difficult for you to breathe. Kun crouches down in front of you, his fingers sliding down your wet cheeks from the tears you didn't know were rolling. "You are lucky, because your life will end in a much more peaceful way than theirs."
"I could have let them go. I could have helped them get rid of the drugs in their bodies, and let them go back to a normal life, but I couldn't afford to risk being reported to the police, or to see them with someone else, I hope you understand." he turns to looks at Taeyong who gradually regains consciousness. "And unfortunately, your little friend won't have an ending as sweet as yours. It'll teach him to not stick his nose where it does not belong."
Kun talks, but it's just gibberish to you, you can't concentrate. You can't. All you can do is put your hand down to your chest, it's so painful, everything burns. You are hot, and cold. A broken sob escapes your lips, and Kun places a kiss on your lips. "I will never love any of my next dolls as much as I loved you, I promise." he whispers against your lips. "I don't think I can love anyone after you. You were all I ever dreamed of."
You vision gradually fades. You see nothing, except the contours of Kun's body. You do not feel anything either. You do not know how long you've been on the ground, but you are not in pain anymore. You are at peace, you think, as you take your last breath.
A single tear rolls down Kun's cheek when he sees you take your last breath. His heart breaks, but he gets up. Kun could have forgiven you, of course, he dreams of nothing other than spending the rest of his life with you, but he hates being betrayed. No matter how intense his love for you was over the past few months, he refuses to be used. Trust is what matters most to him, and he knows the next few months will be horrible, it will take time for him to recover from your death, your "accidental" overdose, but he will. And he'll try again.
One more name to add to his list of failure.
But first, he has to take care of Taeyong. He can't have a witness in his house, or maybe he can use him. He is a handsome boy, he could be useful in his search for the perfect doll.
#nct imagines#wayv imagines#nct scenarios#wayv scenarios#kun imagines#kun scenarios#nct smut#wayv smut#nct angst#wayv angst
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The Philosophy of the Panta Rheic Bovine Defecation As Told By Schwami Orimarki
Schwami Orimarki says:
"Count your losses as blessings."
Unless someone kicks your teeth in, then you should count your losses so you can tell the dentist, "hey, I loft four teef." Saying, "I am bleffed wif four teef", would cause unnecessary confusion.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"Every end is a beginning."
Where the two meet the greatest truths of life unfold. That's why any religion that prohibits eating ass is a false doctrine and should be discarded as such.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"When the wind blows, rise tall against it."
Pull your dick out for a nice surprise.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"Love is the catalyst of The All's perpetual flowing."
Or was that morning coffee? It's basically the same. Know one and you'll know the other. Apropos, Love is also the catalyst of creation. See? Just like morning coffee. Herein we also deduct that Love, in fact, is not All. Coffee could be love, but love is free. So unless you get a free coffee, it ain't love, honey.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"Those who seek answers, find answers; those who seek questions, find truths."
Sometimes an answer is really satisfactory though, like, the sound of one hand clapping? Just use your index, middle, and ring finger to slap down on you thenar eminence. Pap pap pap. Close enough. It's a convenient reason to stop questioning. Verily, the one clapping hand is the closest man can get to experiencing the truth of God.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"People who only fear the horned bull, get trampled by the bull dehorned."
False reassurance brings forth the bane of unjust confidence. That sounds rather clever, doesn't it? I assure you I am still bullshitting. This could also be a false reassurance. Were I to have had horns, we'll never know. There aren't any pictures.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"Through faith, anything is possible."
Thing is, you don't have to have faith. You just have to instill it in others. Reality is nothing other than a theory communally agreed upon. That's how I became an oracle. Which raises the question if it truly matters who you think you are -- you know, like, deep inside -- when you are perceived otherwise by your peers, or, let's say, your cult. How much of the self is dictated by others, as such? Confirmation bias is nigh unbreakable. But whose confirmation bias are we talking about?
Schwami Orimarki says:
"You don't have to be who you think you are."
But at the same time you become who you're thought to be. Ugh, see? I can't stop the bullshittery. I hate being an oracle. I hate this cult. I could say they bore the fuck out of me right now, and still they'd seek deeper meaning in those words. It's maddening. All I wanted was a little cottage away from humans, so I could spend my life in solitude. Watch the grass grow. Smoke some later, playing a little Nintendo. Only going outside to walk or play fetch with my dog. But noooo, gotta answer life's greatest questions now. Impregnate women who want little oracles... I mean, damn. You really want a kid that says things like, "never let routine hush your soul to sleep", or, "we are but commas in our life sentences"? Heh, that one's pretty good, actually.
All right, gotta wrap it up.
Schwami Orimarki says:
"All right, gotta wrap it up."
Practice safe sex, people.
Thus spoke Schwami Orimarki.
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Sometimes Things Have to Get Worse Before They Get Better
This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)
Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.
Cue the angst.
This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3
Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence)
Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink)
Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7: Dawn of the Second Day
TW: Huge wounds, massive haemorrhage (a lot of blood loss yes I am a medic geek) and pain.
Also Nintendo owns Legend of Zelda and some of the dialogue used. Please don't sue me.
This time, they teleported in, grabbed him, and teleported out.
Zelda screamed his name, but it got lost in the vortex of red paper slips, as he felt his insides split apart and then reform.
He was glad though. Incredibly glad that they’d taken him and not his Princess. He ended up on the floor, in the big arena that wasn’t an arena and he coughed, trying to get the sand out of his mouth, and eyes.
He heard Zelda shouting for him, and it suddenly hit him-this was it. The perfect opportunity. He could try and get her out. He was outside Hylia above!
And just as he thought that, four giant metal clamps locked onto his limbs. And that same cursed red glowing thing was applied so he couldn’t move. He swore at them but stopped struggling. He would have to bide his time, he already felt a little weak from not eating for three days, so every store of energy was precious right now. He had to wait for the perfect opportunity and then unleash it all.
He took a moment to try and calm down. Think things through. He was outside the cell, that was better than being inside. He just had to be observant and careful. He started by trying to determine what their motive was, but he wasn’t sure what was happening. Why had they decided to take him out, if they were only going to restrain him down again?
He looked up, at least they hadn’t clamped his neck. And then a… well. There was no polite way to think of him, if Link was being honest. And frankly, being polite was really quite low down in his list of concerns at the minute.
The Yiga Clan were... normally, at least, easily categorisable. All the Yiga Foot soldiers were thin, agile, capable of moving at lightning speed with their teleportation. The Blademasters were by comparison much larger, and they wielded the more powerful windcleaver. And now he knew of the researchers, but they looked a lot like the Foot soldiers, just with a red lab coat on.
This man… although dressed as a Yiga, didn’t match one of the above categories. He was, well, fat. He had a huge abdomen, which Link didn’t really see working in a fight, either with a sickle or a windcleaver and he was confused really. It was the most bizarre thing he’d seen since arriving.
Link wondered if the lack of food was getting to him.
“Yeah, IT'S YOU! You're that Link guy I've been looking for! And the Princess of course but she’s BORING."
Uh… what? This guy had been… looking… for him? Not to sound egoistical, but wasn’t it really obvious who he was? He literally wore bright blue and had the Master Sword strapped to his back. Admittedly, he didn’t have those two things right now but…
"I need to bust out my serious moves... A secret technique taught by my mother's father! It will...destroy you!"
Uh yeah. It probably would do that because Link was currently strapped to the floor with no weapons. So, whatever this guy chose to do, it would, in all likelihood, work by default.
“Release him from the magnesis bonds! NO WAIT! I need to finish my speech first!”
This man was starting to get on Link’s nerves, like a bratty child who wanted a sweet. But he just said to release his bonds. Yes, if that happened, he would destroy them all, steal all their weapons, physically break down those bars, rescue his Princess and then hightail it out of the desert. So, he would remain calm. Collected. And not think of what happened yesterday.
“Now. Hero of Hyrule. I will DUEL you. So someone told someone who told someone yada yada yada that I should give you a fair chance, and something testing something Princess, I'm not sure, I fell asleep half-way through, so here we are. Of course, you’re a KNIGHT so I assume you know what a DUEL is!"
Link remained silent. He figured it probably wouldn't work in his favour if he started to laugh.
"You know, your silence really is unnerving. ANYWAY, I will fight with my chosen weapons, and you will be provided with a Duplex Bow, ten arrows, a Vicious Sickle and a Windcleaver. A very generous selection, in my opinion. If you defeat me, I will allow you to walk away.” Link’s eyes widened. “YES, WALK AWAYYY!” He laughed, “I won’t kill you to DEATH! Even-if-that's-what-I-really-want-can-you-imagine-being-named-Top-Banana-Of-The-Yiga-Clan-comma-Slayer-Of-The-Hero!”
Okay yeah, there was clearly something wrong with this guy, but Link focussed on the important parts. A Duel. Of which the outcome would be freedom. But. He hadn’t mentioned Zelda. No matter, Link would be a fool not to accept. He’d defeat this fat lug and then Kill. Them. All.
And those Blademasters that had stood on that cursed table? He’d make sure to find his sword and would ensure they suffered a slow, prolonged death. But first, he’d win, take Zelda to the Castle where she’d be safe, and then he’d come back. And exterminate them like the rats they were.
He nodded.
They dropped the connection, freeing him, and he didn’t try anything. Not yet anyway. Once they gave him weapons though, Link would forgo whatever pact he’d made with this man. This didn’t count as an honourable situation anyway, this wasn’t a duel between Knights, it was a duel between captor and captee.
What he hadn’t been expecting, was the fat man to throw a small capsule in the middle of the hole, and the capsule didn’t fall, no, it hovered in place. And the outlines of a dome formed, it extended from the centre of the seemingly bottom-less hole and spread out to include a small ring of sand around said hole. All of a sudden, sound seemed to stop coming through, and he could barely hear Zelda, although maybe she’d come to realise it was futile and had gone quiet.
The capsule made a clicking noise, like an activation of something, and then a burst of red light cascaded from it, down the dome, forming a crimson-lined grid along the surface, almost like red electricity was crawling along the lines. They connected to metal ridges that Link hadn’t even noticed in the sand. He swallowed. He knew, instinctively, that he wouldn’t be able to escape. He wouldn’t be able to get out. Because it was the same thing that had trapped him in those cuffs.
It would have to be honourable. By default.
Still, Link wasn’t feeling that scared. If the fat man wanted a duel, Link would give it to him.
“In the name of Calamity Ganon!” He pranced around, shimmying from one foot to the other. "That's what you say when you start a DUEL right?!"
Link decided to ignore him, and simply looked over to where he thought the Princess was, the red light made it hard to see. “In the name of Princess Zelda Bosphoramus Hyrule, my charge, my liege… my Princess.” And his heart whispered one more thing, my soulmate.
It had started out well enough, the man simply summoned rocks at him, not unlike an octorok, but these ones were considerably larger, with a glowing upside down Sheikah eye on them. Still, he dispatched the obnoxious man in quick time, shooting a well-timed arrow into his head, and then jumping in bullet-time to attack with the sickle.
And then the fat man got angry, stamping his foot into the ground like a child having a tantrum. He moved to hover on top of the hole, and this time he had a blue barrier. Link had wasted one arrow hitting it, only for it to bounce right off. Useless. And there was no way for Link to jump in, seeing as he was without his paraglider and he'd fall down anyway, not sideways to the centre of the abyss where the man was.
So, he bid his time, going as far back as possible and decided to just observe the attack. He remained calm, although for some reason he was a little more flustered than he ordinarily was. Perhaps because the Princess’s safety relied on this fight. Yes, that wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but normally, she’d be hidden, well-protected, should anything go wrong with him. This time… If he failed, then who knew what the consequences would be.
He refocussed, the next move simply involved two rocks hovering horizontally and then vertically to the man, where his barrier faulted for a split second, just before he chucked them at Link. It was easy enough to dodge, and now Link knew what to do. He simply hit the man when the barrier was down, and the Yiga lost control of the rocks, so they hit him instead. After another couple of rounds, where Link looked worryingly at his meagre five remaining arrows, another tantrum fest occurred, this time jumping up and down with one foot whilst floating. Link rubbed his eyes in case he was hallucinating. No, he wasn’t.
And that is where everything went wrong.
The man was now using that accursed red thing to move a giant metal ball at him. The ball had spikes. Huge ones at that. And despite Link keeping his eyes trained on the man, his barrier did not fall. Not once.
Crap.
How?! How could the Yiga mentally control metal?! How was he supposed to defeat him now?
The spiked sphere continued to crawl after him, a slow and steady reminder of what was coming. Link was trying hard not to panic. What else could he do? He didn’t have any of his other weapons. He didn’t have shock arrows. He didn’t have his bomb bag. Maybe he could parry the sphere? But he didn’t have a shield either. He cried, almost, thinking back to his prized Hylian shield sitting in the Inn at Kara Kara Bazaar.
What else what else what else
He knew one thing for certain though. He wouldn’t be able to keep up running forever. Not as weak as he currently was from all the stresses over the past two days and the lack of food. Yes, the sphere moved slowly. But it moved. And eventually he would tire.
The man took back the sphere and Link aimed, hoping his barrier would come down for one second, but no. All he did was pause before sending the sphere. Straight. Back. At. Him.
Goddesses above he wouldn’t last.
Was this his true Hero trial?
Was this how he would die?
He decided to try to use the windcleaver to generate some gush of air that would what? Move the giant ball? He was crazy enough to at least attempt because what else could he do? None of his weapons would even reach the man, even if he chucked them, let alone penetrate the seemingly solid blue barrier.
He ran to the edge of the dome, hoping to be a little out of the ball's range to give him some breathing room should this go wrong, but he had no such luck, because it came, hard and fast for him. He waited until it came close then swung the blade down and tried to repel it.
It obviously failed; no colossal, incredibly heavy, metallic sphere was going to shift with the mere power of air.
Belatedly, he realised that the fat man could afford to be fat. Who was going to hurt him if he could levitate himself out into a pit of no end so there was no hope of reaching him, put up a barrier that you had no hope of penetrating, trap you in a hemisphere so you were effectively at his mercy and was armed with a deadly weapon only he could control?
Link only had just about enough time to turn, for his fingers to hit the dome, before the spikes rammed into his back and Link heard himself scream.
He was used to pain, he thought distantly. He’d hurt himself so many times, from climbing accidents, to training mishaps, to when he’d first started fighting monsters, especially those Goddess damned Lynel swords, oh, wait, no, the crushers were worse.
But he’d never had enormous sharp cones ram into his back, upper thigh and calves, all at once. He was effectively pinned against the dome. And then the ball was pulled out, and shoved right back in.
And again.
And again.
And then for flavour, the fat man shifted it just to the right, so now his wounds grew and grew, until he was slowly ripped apart, until the only thing actually holding him upright was the metal sphere.
Link lost track of everything. He’d never felt so humiliated, so weak.
He’d never lost a fight.
What would happen now? What would happen to him and Zelda?
He felt wet, lethargic and so, so heavy. Which struck him as odd, especially considering he’d probably lost a lot of blood. Shouldn’t he be light?
Little spots of blackness coated his vision, somehow he blinked and he was on the floor, on his knees, the dome gone, his hands shaking trying to hold himself up. His blood rushed through his ears, thundering too loudly, and everything else was muted, muffled, and he could no longer focus properly.
"-oga! Did you se- I did i-"
Link must have blacked out again, because the next thing he knew he was being hauled by his armpits back into the cell, and his injuries were stretched even more, and Link screeched in pain. He was so far gone it was silent, and he lost consciousness yet again, because he practically fell on top of Zelda, landing on his front, in her arms. She was shaking, maybe? Or was it him? Probably him, but he couldn’t tell, and he heard her furiously mutter under her breath about hypo-something shock, but really, he was barely holding onto the few remaining threads of consciousness he had.
“Link?” She sounded frightened, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, when he opened his mouth, he coughed up an alarming amount of blood. He felt some of it dribble down his chin and he heard her half scream in response.
“LINK! No! In - name of Hylia st- with me! Link!” She gently held his head in her hands, his head rolling in her hold because he'd now lost what little control he had over his muscles. He focussed on the softness of her touch, and how it contrasted so deeply to the agony that he was in, although everything was dulled around the edges right now, probably from the blood loss. He stared at the growing pool of bright crimson around them, it seemed to be coming from everywhere. Like he was a dam that had suffered too many hits and now all the water was leaking through. That wasn’t that far from the truth to be fair.
“Zel-” He tried to say something, to reassure her that he would fight to stay awake. But it ended in another, harsher, coughing fit, and it felt like Daruk had grasped his chest in his hands and squeezed. Dear Goddesses, he felt his vision start to fade again, it was already half faded, in all honesty. And it scared him, because this wasn't the same blackness he'd had after being knocked cold from a fight. This was darker, more permeating. It felt... more permanent.
She cried, and it pained him to see her tears for him, but the blackness forced its way upon him, and he slowly closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to give in, but even from the start he knew it was a losing battle. Vaguely he wondered if the sword would remember him. He wondered what would happen to his family, to Hyrule, to her, if there was no Hero for the Calamity. He wondered, if he'd had more time, more courage, if he and Zelda could have-
She cradled his head in her arms, gently brushing his matted hair away from his forehead, and he allowed himself a final deep breath, for her lavender to imprint in his mind one last time.
Link was not... scared of death. He knew it was inevitable, and there was a significant probability of him dying, either in the line of duty to the Crown, or against the Calamity, his destiny-chosen battle. But... he was scared now. He was scared of what the consequences of him dying meant. Her verdant eyes stared at him, and she was saying something but he could no longer hear. She was his biggest regret, he couldn't stomach leaving her, here and now, because who knew what horrors would await her once he left. So much guilt, so much shame, so much despair hit him, in the final moment but there was nothing left to he done. He tried to convey that to her, through his gaze, that he was sorry, for not being enough, for not doing enough, for failing to get her out of here- the list continued, but he was rapidly losing what little control he had left, and he felt his eyes glaze over. He’d seen enough death to know where he stood. Because everything ached, he felt increasingly weaker, and his breathing grew progressively more ragged, as stabs of pain shot up his ribs for every centimetre he inhaled in.
He gasped for air, one final time, trying to commit her to his memory, and that seemed to be the very last assault his body could handle. Because within seconds he lost all sense of the world, his final thought was of his silent princess, and of a lullaby, that would forever haunt him till the end of time.
#zelink#botw zelink#botw#botw link#botw zelda#pre-calamity#yiga clan#master kohga#Alternate take on Memory 7 - Blades of the Yiga#angst with a happy ending#enemies to friends to lovers#more so understanding enemies?#heavy angst#angst and feels#some fluff intermixed because i am incapable of writing pure angst#selectively mute link#slow burn#mutual pining#link's pov
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So, in a temporary diversion from my recent consumption habits, I have got to recommend jujutsu kaisen. I had seen some anime gifsets floating around, and when my brother lent me his hbo password to watch mortal kombat (don't judge me), i noticed this in the suggested watching and checked it out! It was very good, but three episodes in, I got HORRIBLY fidgety, and remembered why I so rarely watch tv shows of any sort.
And only then did I think to look up whether the silly thing was a manga :p
It is! And it promptly went on my 'read this.... sometime lol' list, which is frankly out of control, but this back pain adventure has cut me off from most of my entertainments, left me agonizingly bored, and with too much brainfog to focus on novels or longfic. I'm... frankly embarrassed it took me this long to think of digging into a good solid shounen comic, haha
So! Jujutsu Kaisen is the story of a nice young man (15-year-old), Itadori Yuji, who is deeply normal, plus wild-ass athletic skills. He's in the occult club because it's chill, not because he's super into it. However, comma, that lasts until the night where 1) his grandpa dies, leaving him with some Meaningful last words, and 2) his club senpais sneak into school at night to unwrap a mysteeeeeerious Something they found on school grounds.
Yeah, so that mysterious object is a deeply cursed object and the wrapping was sealing it. Also, it's an agéd finger. For reasons I decline to explain, our hero..... eats it.
Itadori Yuji has now possessed himself with a deeply powerful ancient cursed spirit, Sukuna! He manages to take control of his body back, and had some control over the transition, but our boy has just become a major public hazard. He narrowly avoids a summary execution, and enrolls as a student at the coolkid jujutsu school with a job of, uh, eating more fingers, as necessary.
Things don't stay this uncomplicated for long, curses seem to be popping up more frequently, and seem to be getting stronger and stronger. A couple of scary-strong, scary-smart curses have started stirring up trouble, and lots of people are starting to die. Also there are politics and family drama happening in the jujutsu world. Also there's a panda with a gorilla mode
But! Let's talk about design and aesthetic! Because this manga had the same sort of humor and high energy that I expect from a good shounen story (I wheezed at the fallout when Todo asked Itadori what his type was), but oh my goodness, the creature design work is just *chef kiss* horrifying
I'm glad I trained on Stand Still, Stay Silent to kinda numb myself to the horror of warped humanity, because those have been the most D: moments for me, but like, way more often I'm just gently cackling to myself about it man oh man oh man, i wanna draw monsters
Look at those TEETH on that temple!! Look at those bony face-wings and halo on that last guy! A+++, yes PLEASE! I definitely do not have the focus to meaningfully discuss the cast or greater story right now, but let me just close you out on this excellent affirmation
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BE CAREFUL AROUND AURORA THATCHER (KRISTINE FROSETH)!! SHE MIGHT LOOK INNOCENT, BUT THEY’VE BEEN A REAPER FOR FOUR YEARS / LIVING IN TOWN ON AND OFF HER WHOLE LIFE. PEOPLE SAY THEY’RE LOYAL & MOTHERLY BUT CAN BE A BIT CLOSED OFF, BUT IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF, YOU CAN FIND THE 30 YEAR OLD WORKING AT STRANGER’S DINER AS A WAITRESS. UPON GETTING TO KNOW THEM, YOU’LL REALIZE THEY REMIND YOU OF, CIGARETTE SMOKE IN THE DISTANCE, LONG HAIR BLOWING IN THE MIND, AN ARM FILLED WITH TATTOOS. (SARAH, SHE/HER, 25, EST.)
CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY [TW CHILD NEGLECT, DOMESTIC ABUSE]
Aurora Thatcher had never come from a life of luxury. She had never known what it felt like to have a complete family, a comma in her bank account, or to not be constantly struggling with something. Being the result of a teen pregnancy, her mother had her at the tender age of sixteen. She was with a man who she should have never dated, nor had children with for the matter. The pair were an extremely dysfunctional couple, always up and down, hot and cold.. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to constantly get eviction notices, having little to no time to pack up what few belongings they had and scramble to find someplace to crash. Sometimes it was at a co-worker’s house, the local shelter, or inside the beater car that they owned. Either way, the blonde had learned to have many different meanings to the word ‘home’. Regardless of her chaotic upbringing, she was always thankful. Sure, she never had the newest clothes, the best toys to play with, or the nicest living situation. But, she knew that she had parents that did love and care for her, despite the curve balls being thrown at them.
When Aurora was nine, CPS had enough of her parents’ games and deemed them unfit to be responsible for their daughter. One too many incidents had caught up with them and custody was placed in the hands of her grandmother, Cecelia. This would not be an easy task due to Aurora being quite the rambunctious child turned rebellious teen. A mixture of pure hell for an older, retired woman to deal with.
At eighteen, she had met a boy one night while at a party she snuck out too. He was older, being twenty two, and he seemed mature and that was attractive to her. Sparks flew and she was head over heels for the bad boy. Being at such a young and naive age, he was able to convince her that Las Vegas was boring and not for them. After dating for a few months, the teen decided to pack enough of her belongings in a bag and run away with the “love of her life”. She didn’t need her grandma, school, or her few friends. Nothing mattered besides him. The pair has no clear destination but they knew that their love for one another was strong.
Of course, being young and dumb meant that they struggled. Choosing to settle down in the Northern part of California, it was hard for them to find a half decent apartment and jobs. Aurora managed to find a half decent restaurant to waitress at and Ethan? A basic car mechanic. They were lousy jobs but it was enough for them. What could go wrong?
From the start of their new life in California, financial struggles were the main source of stress for Ethan and it did not take long for him to become moody and quick to anger. After just a few short months of being there, he was becoming emotionally abusive and manipulative towards Aurora. She had expressed concerns of them being able to afford rent and the girl even brought up the idea of going back home, regretting her decision of being here. He did not hesitate to emphasize that the pair had made the decision together and Nevada had nothing worth going back to. Aurora agreed with his point of view and pushed back any negative thoughts she had about their situation to the side. Maybe he was right and she was just overreacting.
She hadn’t even realized that he had the upper hand and in no time, she was trapped in a toxic relationship with no light at the end of the tunnel. The cherry on top of it all? She had gotten pregnant. At 19, Serenity Elyse was born. Trying to raise her baby girl in that kind of environment was not her plan. There were times where she’d flee to a shelter for a few days, a week at a time. But, she always crawled back to him because she had nowhere else to go. Plus, she had been brainwashed into the idea that he wasn’t “always” like that and he did really love her.
Aurora’s relationship with Ethan lasted for four another years and it was nothing short of pure misery. There were few moments where he was actually sweet to her, reminding her of when they first met. The darker moments of those months overshadowed any normal times spent together. Aurora felt as though she was a shell of her she really was, every aspect of her life being criticized and controlled by him. Many times she wished she could just get away, but she felt entirely hopeless and felt as though there was no use. But, there would be one day that brought her back to reality. While making Ethan dinner, he grew upset over the fact that the toast on his sandwich was burned and they did not have any other pieces. She tried to calm him down but that only added more fuel to his fire. Glasses were thrown and so were punches. After their encounter, she was left with a broken nose, wrist and a deep cut across her right cheek. This was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. She needed to get the hell out of here because next time? She wasn’t sure if she would make it out alive or if little Ren would get hurt.
Packing enough of her belongings into a small bookbag, she fled her apartment while Ethan was asleep. Aurora had enough cash to ride the bus for a few hours and that was it. By the grit of her teeth, she was able to make her way back to Nevada, mostly through hitchhiking. Tail in between her legs, she went back to her grandmothers, unsure of how she might react. It had been well over a year since they had really talked with one another. While it took some time to mend their complicated relationship, Cecelia was happy to have her granddaughter back in her life.
After returning to Nevada, Aurora began to attend therapy to try and cope from her previous relationship and return to her old self. Successfully filing a restraining order against Ethan, she felt safe enough even if he ever decided to come back to try to rekindle anything with her. It took her a few years but at the age of 25, she graduated with her GED and got a decent job as a waitress at Stranger’s diner. Raising little Serenity too, life didn’t seem too shitty. She was slowly healing.
In part of her healing, Aurora was in desperate need of a support system and a bigger purpose in her life. Her connection through the Reapers is where she would achieve it. Her grandmother had been married to a retired member of the group, which meant that she had spent a good chunk of her childhood and young adulthood around those said members. They were basically a second family to her, even if she had lost some connection to them when she was away from Nevada. Always feeling drawn to them, she felt as though this was the right time to pull the trigger and pledge her oath to becoming an official member. At 25, she would begin her journey into the MC. There were times that perhaps she wasn’t 100% sure she’d become a full member. But, she was hell bent on proving herself worthy. Aurora got patched in as a full member at 26 and has been a proud member since. It was not easy, but she did it. She earned her damn patches and position.
At 26, Aurora meets a new boy - Vic. He was one of her regulars and someone that very much wanted to take her out. She was reluctant to say yes, still healing from her last relationship. After many failed attempts, she agrees. She promises herself to not overthink it too much and maybe he actually had good intentions. The pair begin to casually see one another and Aurora generally is happy with where she is in her life at the time.
Flash forward a few more months and Aurora suddenly falls ill. Her symptoms are fatigue, morning sickness, and just feeling…off. She knew this feeling all too well. Two minutes and two pink lines meant that she was going to become a mother once more. Aurora was terrified to tell Vic, not knowing how he might take the news. To her shock, he is overjoyed and excited. Vic would become her fiancé after he proposed to her. When she was seven months pregnant, they’d have a small, courthouse wedding followed by a reception at the restaurant they had their first date at. Two months later, she would give birth to a beautiful baby girl named Delilah Grace.
Everything seemed so perfect, like she was living in a fairytale. Vic adored fatherhood and took Serenity in like he was actually hers. They moved in together into a small, cute place. But, it was only sweet for so long. When Delilah was around the age of two, Aurora would find out that her husband had been cheating on her for several months now with another girl. She found text messages and calls on his phone. That night, in a frantic state, she bagged all of his belongings in a garbage bag and threw it at the end of the street and told him to get lost. Being a single mother wasn’t anything she thought would imagine for herself, but she couldn’t stay with a man who lied to her. Maybe it was just for the best. From then on out, she decided to focus on being a mother, reaper, and worker.
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LONG ask ahead, sorry T^T
*arrives in a hurry after 2-3 days* *slow, appreciative clap at the ted talk* sweetie, have you got any idea how much i adore hearing you ramble about the creation process??? seeing the whole love and dedication you hold for the odyssey makes my day! (and nooo, i'm totally not reading it again bc i want to have all of it in mind for tomorrow and bc it inspires me to no end hahaha what do you mean :) )
here comes yet another question: what kind of powers do you possess to write so beautifully. your writing literally punches me in the gut every single time, even the simplest of things!! it's hauntingly beautiful and i'm living for it!
(and another one) how did you find out how the odyssey was going to end?
also, it's rambling time because i've been thinking. (i do that sometimes.) each chapter title is a reference to a greek myth, and, in particular, odysseus' myth (no clue if i've written his name right, i've always knew him as "ulysse" in my mother tongue ^^;). and so my brain went: oooh nice, greek lore ^^ and then: yo wait. hold up. which brings me here: analysing the chapter titles. (bear with me please, and feel free to ignore my enthusiastic rambling/correct me if i'm wrong which i probs will)
so first, we have the prelude. david and calypso. while i'm sure david has his importance it's almost 1 am as i'm typing this so i'm going to focus on calypso. poor nymph is stuck in an island because of the will of gods for a reason i've forgotten. but here's the catch: while she cannot leave, others can come to her (good ol' odysseus for instance) until they leave her all alone again. and the cycle unfolds again and again. which brings us to a nice parallel with reader's situation at the beginnig. she, after all, is stuck on an island with no way out but stories. comes the dilf supreme toji aka an odysseus of sorts, until he leaves her. so she's alone again. calypso there illustrates a passive state of sorts. she cannot leave, or so she thinks: while she wants to, we don't see her try per se until sukuna comes in.
ah yes. sukuna’s arrival. chapter title: neptune’s hands. Neptune, god of the seas, all powerful, also known as Poseidon absolutely terrifying if provoked — which is something Odysseus did! well, man is smart enough not to do it to his face. but he did stab a cyclope, which happened to be neptune’s son. son who swore to a haughty Odysseus that he’d pay for it. in consequence: instead of going back to Ithaca without that much of trouble, Neptune goes: nope mate, and promptly sabotage his return (with a storm who leads his ship astray if my memory is correct). Neptune serves as a catalyst in here, to properly start the action. and it so happens to be sukuna’s role! he is, as well, the one who starts reader’s journey — well, odyssey in this case ;) — by making her this offer. plus, if we consider reader as being calypso, a nymph, and sukuna as being Neptune, a god, it shows their difference in power. sukuna is a fearsome curse, captain whose name is enough to strike fear in the cruellest pirate, who can and will kill reader should he get bored of her. reader is but a printer’s apprentice, so weak compared to him it hurts.
ah, yes. the narcissus pool aka siren gojo, aka me simping so hard for this man I might squirt with the mere mention of him. yes, siren gojo is that powerful, feel free to lure me in with them baby blues sweetie *blows him a kiss* hem. anyway. long story short, an oracle said: if narcissus sees his reflection, he’ll die. people prevent him from seeing himself. ofc man is so handsome it hurts and has women and men alike running after him, including a nymph named echo. he rejects her. hera is somehow involved in the mess and makes it so that he stumbles upon a river and sees himself. entranced by his beauty, he desperately tries to reach himself and stays near the river until he dies. this one is a bit trickier (especially considering I’m writing this as I go with no coherent preparation whatsoever but damn if I’m not having fun). but. *proceeds to read it again* *sighs in ‘why the hell ain’t siren!gojo real pls sir take me’* anyway. it’s never mentioned in narcissus’ myth, but I’m pretty sure he was tempted to look at himself. at least once, considering he could wonder why on earth all those people kept falling for his looks. (or he could be pretty dumb. let’s say he isn’t) so he’s tempted by his own reflection. just like reader’s tempted to follow segsy siren gojo. he doesn’t up until hera is involved and ends up seeing his reflection. he falls. not literally, but in love — with his own self. here it’s different (and the reason why i’m strugglingTM to gather coherent thoughts). gojo is the very embodiment of this temptation — so he acts as narcissus’ reflection here. he’s the one seducing reader, the one luring her until she falls in the waters, just like narcissus did. she didn’t die though, unlike him. (thank you sukuna. I guess. yes I would’ve given my life for gojo to consume me in both ways and??) now, this is very simp-tainted (sorry bout that ^^;) and the thing I’ve noticed is this: narcissus isn’t a character in the og odyssey. could it be bc to my absolute despair, gojo’s not as much of an important character as sukuna and toji? only you know!
(the hades, psyche analysis comes in tomorrow *looks @ time* *sees it's 1 AM* well, later on! have a lovely night/day!)
- the LRE (who's very happy tumblr allowed her to do paragraph breaks/to have a pirate history book recommandation! thanks about that one btw, it'll come in handy for a ff of mine (yeah it involves pirate gojo))
wait this is so precious n thoughtful oh my gosh 😭 thoughts n vibes under the cut :’)
first of all THANK U!!!??? ur making me blush out here omg my hEART 😭
as for ur first question, ur SO SWEET n IM LOSING IT bye i genuinely don’t know i just scream and throw a bunch of commas and metaphors everywhere and somehow things happen 💀 i read a lot (english major vibes) and it’s very helpful because i tend to imitate writers/phrases/books that inspire me while i'm figuring out how i want to write !!
secondly: how did i figure out the ending of the odyssey??
answer: i think i just stumbled across this one 😭 i was brainstorming w my bestie (@/suedebunn) n she originally suggested a different version of the ending that i was like “oh wait” and then i played with it for awhile until i arrived at the version i have now ! i want to tell u more about how i arrived from point A to point B and what the process was but i will withhold because i am not giving anything away >:)
onto ur TITLE ANALYSIS!! this is SPECTACULAR! ur pretty much on the nose for all of them god damn i don’t have much to add :’) i’ll give u some of my takes tho!!
david and calypso – ur absolutely on the nose for the calypso aspect; david’s just a passing nod to the pirates of the caribbean portrayal of davy jones and the doomed relationship between him and calypso (mirroring the doomed relationship between toji and reader since he leaves them)
neptune’s hands – yes! yeah! sexy! pirate sukuna is being compared to a sea god!! also a minor teaser but sukuna’s hands are important symbolically ;-)
narcissus pool – ur brain is so big here god damn 🤲 narcissus is more of a loose reference to the idea of pride/ temptation and also hollowness/mirages (the emptiness of a reflection versus the tangibility of the real thing) so it’s not immediately a reference to the odyssey itself or even the myth (i'm taking creative liberties bye homer) but probably the best entity to use when describing gojo – the dichotomy between pride/emptiness is a lot more apparent in part 5
gosh thank u sm for this!! excited to see what u have next!!!!!!
#THIS IS SO SWEET#THANK U??!?!!!?!>!#THANKS FOR NOTICING TITLE IMPORTANCE#UR A REAL ONE#OMG!!!#letters to adele#the odyssey!#LRE anon
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