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wen-kexing-apologist · 11 months

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Bad Buddy x ATOTS aka Damn You WMT

Dear @waitmyturtles, fuck you, respectfully wen-kexing-apologist. Turts, I have shit to do, I do not have time for this. But once again I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT SO, FUCK ME I GUESS WE’RE DOING A FOREST EPISODE.

More specifically, we are doing an Our Skyy 2, Episode 15 Part 1/4 post, probably far earlier than I should be, and definitely instead of doing work I absolutely need to be doing. But Pat and Phupa’s interactions in this part of the episode have me thinking about Phupa and his relationship to queerness.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I had a marvelous time watching Part 1 of our latest Bad Buddy x ATOTS crossover episode. Why? Because it is absolutely incredibly fun to watch Pat personally terrorize the local gay elder.

What I have really been enjoying in these crossover episodes is watching the ways the similarities and differences in Phupa, Pat, Pran, and Tian play out. Each person spends most of the time paired with the character who play the same role in the relationship but whose personalities and approaches to their relationships are very different. Phupa is the support in his relationship with Tian, Pat is the support in his relationship with Pran, but Phupa never bends and Pat always gives in.

The thing I love about Pat is that he is unabashed in his queerness, he rolls up on to the scene and starts flirting the second he opens his mouth, and then he

Literally

Never

Stops

He annoys Pran, he tests the structural integrity of the house with Pran, sure, but he also wakes up next to Phupa and then proceeds to never let Phupa forget that a) he would and b) that they thought they might have.

He rolls up on the scene as Phupa and his coworker are getting ready to head into the forest, and he starts talking openly and loudly about Phupa’s boyfriend, and the relationship problems they are having.

Phupa is less than amused.

Phupa does not want Pat coming with him, Pat sneaks into the back of the truck, Phupa begrudgingly allows Pat to come with him and Pat says “you’re the cutest”

Phupa is less than amused.

I’m gonna skip ahead a little bit and then regress if that is okay with everyone, after Phupa puts bandaid’s on Pat says yet again “what a cute print, Chief”, “you have a cute side, Chief”

“No wonder teacher is head over heels for you,”

Here Pat is, one half of the first queer couple to interact with Phupa and Tian in god knows how long or possibly ever, talking casually, happily, loudly, and openly about Phupa’s relationship with Tian and Tian’s feelings for Phupa. Reaffirming to Phupa in a way that it is obvious that Tian is in love with him.

And still Phupa is not having it.

As they continue their walk, Pat starts smelling the trees and Phupa is like oh jesus fucking christ what the hell are you doing you are making my life a living hell- “What are you doing?”

And in response, Pat is very open and sappy about Pran.

gif from @liyazaki

“Pran smells so good, if he is nearby, I can find him,” and Phupa is flabbergasted. He just stands there for a second, looking Pat up and down like “okay, seriously…what the fuck?” and he is so obvious about it in the way he looks at Pat and in the way he walks away, that Pat is able to tell immediately that Phupa is, once again, not vibing with Pat’s casual references to his queerness, or overt and honest love and admission of intimacy with his partner. Pat knows Pran’s scent so well that he is confident he could pick it up in the middle of the forest. That suggests a level of familiarity with a body that would traditionally be considered uncouth, if you were polite, and doubly so if you are queer.

gif from @liyazaki

When Phupa starts walking like he’s over the conversation, Pat’s easy smile shifts to confusion “What? Haven’t you smelled Teacher’s body before?”

(Translation: Aren’t you also so in love with your partner, and aren’t you so intimate with your partner that you could recognize his scent anywhere you went? Looking at you watermelon soap sponsorship…looking at you tea bag smell pouch…)

And it’s the inclusion of the word body that really strikes me here, because to say “what? Haven’t you smelled Teacher before?” evokes a different relationship than “What? Haven’t you smelled Teacher’s body?” does.

“That’s too bad” Pat says, and leans suggestively close to Phupa. Like a cat toying with a mouse. Pat likes needling at Phupa’s discomfort around explicit references to Pat and Pran’s sex life. And while we know Phupa has most certainly smelled Tian’s body before, Phupa SPINS around, has this brief moment of absolute wide eye about being so blatantly asked a question that alludes to his physical relationship to and with Tian, looks Pat dead in the eye and says “I’m not a pervert like you,”

gif from @liyazaki

Harsh words. Incredibly harsh words, especially because of the connotations of queerness with perversion, especially because iirc from the KinnPorsche LGBTQ+ Facts special on IQIYI, pervert is often an insult used in Thailand for queer people. Phupa is uncomfortable with Pat’s open conversation about his queer relationship, about his queer intimacy and he chooses to meet Pat with homophobia in the way of a slur.

But Pat is having fun, and I honestly believe he expects that kind of reaction. Pat and Pran were awkward witnesses to Tian and Phupa’s little domestic about watching him shower and looking lovingly into their eyes, but Phupa is stiff the whole time, he is aware that he is engaging in that conversation while other people are present, and he can’t take it and he literally flees. And some of that is because he is getting riled up about their fight, but we see in part 2 of this episode that when Phupa is actually angry with Tian about something, he has no problem standing up and planting his feet to confront Tian about it.

Anyway, Pat is having fun, and Pat wants to test Phupa and so, completely unphased he starts talking about how Tian smells, as if he is familiar. He is like "my boyfriend smells soooo good, do you smell your boyfriend's body? Your boyfriend smells good" and it’s a direct display of Pat's comfortability with his partner, their closeness, and their level of intimacy.

“Teacher Tian smells so good” Pat says with the world’s widest grin

“How do you know that?” Phupa asks almost challenging

“I thought you said you’d never smelled him”

gif from @liyazaki

Caught ya. Phupa has indirectly admitted to intimacy. Pat has successfully engaged Phupa in a conversation that is completely about Phupa’s queerness.

And as Part 2 goes on, we are made more and more aware of how little outward public affection Phupa and Tian engage in. If Phupa and Tian touch around other people, there has to be a legitimate reason to do so (Tian fainted, Tian fainted again, Tian fainted a third time, Tian is drunk, Phupa is drunk, etc.). In this episode, Tian is weak and almost collapses in to Phupa’s arms because he exerted himself too much with his heart. Phupa’s hand is on Tian’s back and then Tian is away from him and standing upright, and when Phupa, Tian, Pat, and Pran exit the forest and enter the clearing of the safe house.

Pat is using Pran as a crutch, and Phupa and Tian have placed a child in between them. They are not touching, they aren’t even standing all that close to each other. Phupa is in ranger mode, sure, but he’s not really in front of people he has to impress, he doesn’t have to be completely professional and on guard when they are in the shack together. Especially when his partner with a body that is currently trying to reject his heart, is sitting there looking on the verge of a heart attack.

Phupa is making direct eye contact with Tian here, he is worried about Tian here, his focus is on Tian here, and yet he does not offer any physical comfort. No reassuring touch, no forehead kiss, hell, not even a hand on the back of his head to check for fever. He’s focused on getting the radio working, which is incredibly important in case there is a medical emergency, but he does not spare a second to physically ground him and Tian. He can only look from a distance. Because there are other people around, there is a child around. Phupa can’t be seen engaging in homosexual softness, Phupa has to be seen as a forest ranger, doing his job, his actual job that involves rescuing his stubborn dumbass boyfriend from yet again getting lost in the forest, but does not involve him being in love.

Again, Phupa truly has no one here he needs to impress, he’s in a room with a child, his boyfriend, and a couple of nuisances that have shown him absolutely zero respect since the moment they waltzed in to his neck of the woods.

At dinner even, after things have settled down, Phupa still cannot bring himself close to Tian in front of prying eyes.

Pat and Pran? Literally sitting side by side, knees touching. They are as close to each other as they possibly can be without literally sitting in each other’s laps.

Here is a close up of Pat and Pran literally making physical contact with each other at the knee and at the elbow.

And what Phupa and Tian do not know, is that Pat and Pran can't be outwardly and openly affectionate to one another in public when they are at school and so they make up for it by being disgusting when they aren't in school. Pat and Pran have to keep up a pretense, and its a tragic undertone to their ability to diffuse the brewing Tian and Phupa fight by looking at each other, nodding, and then improvising a fight realistic enough to get Phupa and Tian to pull them apart.

Because Pat and Pran’s relationship at home is a metaphor for external homophobia, because they are so used to it by now, the having to hide, to pretend they don’t like each other, to pretend they are mad, to pretend they aren’t in love, that they can just ease right in to staged fights at the drop of a fucking hat. But even in their fake fight they wind up pressed up against each other.

(hehe, screen shot funny, look at Phupa, he zoomin’)

Because for so long the only way they could have physical contact in public was by fighting, was by beating each other up, was by pushing or pulling each other away from a fight. Pat and Pran understand that Tian and Phupa are having a fight that they also once had, but they can also see the parts underneath it, the parts that make Phupa ask why the emphasis on him in Tian’s story is about Phupa being in love with Tian rather than his work.

Pat is simultaneously taking the opportunity of being hours and hours away from home, from where he has to hide his relationship, to be as openly and obviously in love with Pran as he has always been and is telling Phupa he is safe to be gay around. That he and Pran are safe people to be gay around, are safe people for him to be openly affectionate with his boyfriend around.

And that stems from the parts of Pat and Phupa that are wildly different.

Like, it is very very notable that Pat confesses his feelings for Pran practically as soon as he realizes that he has feelings for him and initiates the rooftop kiss which they share before they are even together, and then they have a bunch of little kisses, and they sneak as many touches as they can, and they make out multiple times in the show

And Phupa and Tian have…a single forehead kiss and then one kiss, at the top of a mountain, where no one would ever be able to see them after their story is complete.

In last week’s crossover episode, the level of intimacy that Phupa engages in with Tian is called out, even by Aof himself with the roleplaying scene between Pat and Pran where they pretend to be Phupa and Tian putting up a mosquito net and conclude that they absolutely must have kissed then.

But we know they didn’t. We know how painstakingly long it takes for Phupa and Tian to reach that level of intimacy with one another.

I'm even thinking backstory-wise, what is forest ranger training like? Is it part of the military? Did Phupa's gay ass have to enlist in a presumably male dominated field and like, go to training, and be around a bunch of guys, and make sure they didn't suspect he was gay?

I’m thinking about the moments in last week’s episode where it seemed like things were going better between Phupa and Tian, and it was always when Phupa was physically affectionate with Tian, putting his arm around him and not letting him go, when they were at karaoke, and when they were drunkenly stumbling home together, again locked in eachother’s embrace, where anyone could see them.

To regress as I promised back to the leech scene I am struck by what the approach to removing the leeches says about Pat and Phupa respectively.

Pat rips the leech off of him and Phupa takes time to put a lighter to them and pluck them off in a way that does not hurt Pat

Pat rips the leech off and bleeding for it, hurting himself in the process, because he is impulsive and impatient, Pat bleeds emotion, he's practically incapable of hiding what he's feeling, and he must obey his emotions before all else. Therefore, in Bad Buddy Episode 5, when he realizes he has feelings for Pran, Pat immediately has to talk to Pran about his feelings, immediately leans in to the emotion he is feeling in the present moment, and initiates a kiss. A kiss that leaves him feeling blissful, and that leaves him hurt because Pran walks away, because Pran has known forever how much he likes Pat, because Pat has only just figured out his feelings, he hasn’t had to sit with them for long, and yet that kiss is an equally strong release for both of them. When Phupa removes the leech from Pat’s leg he is methodical and patient, he tries to minimize the wound, it takes longer but it has the same result which is why it takes so damn long for him and Tian to get together. When I watches ATOTS and they touched pinkies under that blanket and I went "ah yes! This is the part where you start making out and fucking cause they are adults who have maybe been in a relationship before and who have both been obviously painfully aware of their feelings for eachother since the moment they laid eye on each other"...and then they don’t. Phupa waits, and waits, and waits.

I think the fundamental thing that I see replaying in this episode especially, and with Pat and Phupa’s interactions especially is the elder versus younger queer mentality we got in Moonlight Chicken, with very different characters from Jim and Li Ming, but following a similar pattern of restraint and time versus just jumping right in.

And it’s also why I think the conversation between Pran and Phupa is so important:

gifs by @nanons

Pat and Pran’s need to keep their relationship secret because of their family’s, and because of Pran’s mom specifically is a metaphor for external homophobia. Pat and Pran are extremely comfortable in their sexuality, very open in their love for one another when they are amongst other queer people, or amongst allies, when they are away from their hometown or when they are in the privacy of their homes.

There are a lot of different pieces in play around Phupa and Tian’s relationship, but there is ultimately a metaphor at the most or a blatant sense at the least of internal homophobia on the part of Phupa.

Pat has chosen to stay “in the closet” in order to be with Pran. In a convo with @shortpplfedup about this, Nini said it the most accurate and heart wrenching line: “It's honestly that Pran can't really ever compare to Pat's sacrifice here, and he KNOWS it,”

Similarly, Phupa believes that Tian has made a sacrifice to be with him, and he knows it. Which is why he can’t bring himself to go to Tian’s birthday, because Tian has left before, because he is scared every time Tian goes that he will realize that Phupa isn’t enough. Because Phupa is afraid of being seen as Tian’s partner. Because Phupa is really only capable of being physically affectionate behind closed doors. When they are completely alone. Cause even in the camp, when the child is sleeping and Pat and Pran are off literally fucking in the tent minding their own goddamn business, Phupa cannot bring himself to touch Tian.

They’re sharing place but not space, or whatever it was that Ayan said to Akk in their Our Skyy 2 episodes. When Phupa gives Tian his medicine, at most their fingers brush, they don’t sit down together, they don’t ground themselves with touch. They share this place, but they do not encroach on each other’s personal space…

…until Phupa falls asleep

gif by @earthpirapat

At which point Tian gets up, and places his blanket on him, and physical touches his arm, his shoulder, etc. as he is adjusting the blanket for him.

Tian initiates the touch, Tian stayed in the village with him, Tian is sacrificing his health to be here with Phupa. Phupa has spent 90% of his time alone with the bouncing ball of sunshine that is Pat, and 5% of his time with the chaotic homosexual energy of Pat and Pran together, and to be real, as much as we know about Pat and Pran’s relationship, and as much depth as we are able to pull from these specific characters interacting in the way they do, Phupa has no idea what Pat and Pran have been through to be where they are.

To anyone who does not know Pat and Pran’s story, they seem like nothing more than two horny young adults in love, who feel no need to hide themselves and their queerness away, that have never had a struggle in their life, and do not understand the trials and tribulations of navigating an older queer relationship, who will last the length of a honeymoon period and then disappear at the first sign of real conflict. Thus, I think Phupa grossly underestimates the company he is currently keeping.

So I think, personally, Phupa is kinda of struck by the sudden and unexpected depth that comes from Pran. That Pran is able to identify and then absolutely hone in and strike at the exact things that Phupa is struggling with. As much as Pat has both relished in the freedom he has to be disgustingly in love with his boyfriend in the woods, and as much as Pat has tried to make himself an obviously safe person to be openly gay around, Phupa is incapable of understanding what he can learn from Pat and Pran’s relationship until he realizes these boys have a lot more in common with him than he thought, and that their relationship and their relationship to one another is more complex and therefore more similar to him and Tian’s situation than he would like.

Pran and Phupa carry the weight of feeling like nothing they do will ever compare to the sacrifices their partner has made to be with them. I didn’t get much in to Pat and Tian here, but their interaction makes it clear that they both carry the weight of feeling like their partner does not need them.

Phupa has literally saved Tian’s life on numerous occasions, Tian is chronically ill, Tian has limitations. Phupa is a forest ranger, who is a foundation in his community, who is skilled and competent, and fiercely independent. Pat is disorganized, and impulsive, his father is the reason he and Pran can’t be open about their relationship, he is the reason Pran got sent away.

We get a fun reversal with dynamics in these Bad Buddy x ATOTS episodes because Tian and Phupa are older, but Pat and Pran have an entire lifetime of navigating and overcoming conflict under their belt. Pat and Pran have already weathered the storm of the fight that Tian and Phupa are having. They have already settled in to who they are, but Pat and Pran (Pran especially) are able to see the ways that always giving in and never backing down wears on a person. Pran learns from seeing the pain that Tian is in that being uncompromising might cause fractures in their relationship in the future.

Tian and Phupa (Phupa especially) are learning how to resolve their conflicts. Pran, who is holding on to Tian and Phupa’s story so tightly because it is shared, because it is open, because anyone who wants to can know about it, pushes Phupa, who cannot cope with being portrayed as being in love with Tian, to read all of the diary Tian published online. Pran pushes Phupa to push through the emotional blocks, to push past his initial concerns, and to assume Tian wrote and published this story with both an understanding of who is partner is and what Phupa is comfortable with, and with no intention of hurting anybody.

Anyway, all of this to say, that this episode has really made me analyze Phupa with an internalized homophobia lens, and though one can never trust a P’Aof trailer, it has left me with two impressions.

On the subject of Phupa and internalized homophobia, and needing to move past that (and more) in order for his relationship with Tian to survive this fight, @shortpplfedup said it best:

“Now I'm thinking about one moment from the preview (but just a moment!) where Phupha tells Tian he's not gonna sneak to look at him, he's gonna OPENLY look at him”

And cause it seems like Phupa learned some things from the Bothersome Boys:

Case in point:

Here's multiple hours of my life I will never get back, at least I had fun! Time to go do the work I was supposed to be doing tonight :p

That's all folks!

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leconcombrerit · 2 months

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A warm hug to Non, or when are we going to stop demanding perfection from victims

It's been forever since I thought about making this post but I've finally decided to write the goddamn thing.

Three disclaimers : one, I haven't yet managed to get past the first third of episode 9, so this whole thing is based on episodes 1-8 at best. Two, I'll block on sight again if I see victim blaming on this post. Finally, I'm by no means an expert on the subject. It's complex, I might get things wrong and I'll have to oversimplify at times for clarity and brevity's sake, please don't kill me for it. It's probably gonna be long enough as it is. I've tried my best to organize my thoughts in a way that would make sense, but. Well. I hope it does.

Trigger warning for mention of suicide, bullying, grooming, sexual assault, rape

Non started as the poor little baby everyone wanted to protect -both the audience and Jin ; for all the shit he got after filming Non and Keng, there are a lot of parallels to draw between him and the audience. Then the dreaded episode 7 happened and all hell broke loose. I won't include screenshots of the disgusting things I read from some viewers about Non, but Jin's reaction is pretty telling already.

The easy explanation would be that he's mad Non isn't returning his feelings, but I think it has more to do with Non not fitting his 'good victim' role anymore. There's sadness on his face, but the dominants are anger and betrayal. Non tries to regain agency and gets crucified for it.

So what's a good victim ?

Non, basically

If you want an examplary blueprint of what society defines as a good victim and survivor, someone worth justice, defending and loving, just take a look at Non. I broke it down in four marks that need to be checked :

-Innocence : none of the person's action prompted the abuse -Moral high ground : the person has values and displays kindness -Helplessness : the person cannot do anything about the situation they're stuck in -Accepting to be saved : self-explanatory. The person has to accept the help that's offered to them, traditionally by a love interest

Non is abused for being poor, something he's not responsible for. He's hardworking, honest, passionate about the things he loves and commits to his engagements. He's kind when talking with Jin. He's resilient in the face of the gang's bullying. None of what he could do or say would make it stop, neither can he help owing Por for a camera he hasn't broken nor get out of Tee's pyramid scheme. His mental illness only increases this impression of vulnerability. Jin doesn't have all these elements, but he's got more than enough to paint a very similar picture of Non as the audience.

As for accepting help, Jin repeatedly offers some -and Non finally lets him in during their conversation on the rooftop. What Jin offers may be little but it's still help ; Non smiles and even gives Jin a shove -what I think is the only time he initiates contact with Jin at all.

"Thank you so much, Jin, for helping me all along." "It's alright, I'm glad to. I just want to see you smile again, Non."

The audience gets even more of Non being happy and grateful to be saved : he calls his "♥" contact for help multiple times, smiles at the reminder to take his meds and, later on, clings to Phee for dear life after trying to kill himself. He doesn't fight him, he doesn't reach for the scattered pills. Hell, even accepting Tee's offer to make money could count as Non agreeing to be saved by everyone around him.

Non checks all the marks. Everyone in the audience is rooting for him, the other boys can all go get impaled on a branch, and Jin looks at him like he hung and lit all the stars in the sky.

Speaking of the other boys...

Tee and Por victims as well but don't get the same amount of sympathy, if any. Tee isn't responsible for being stuck in a criminal environment and can't get out of it ; no one has offered help, so he gets a pass. But he's been shown to be selfish, opportunist, often cowardly and sometimes gratuitously cruel.

As for Por, it's even worse : every actions he takes seems to confirm his dad's opinion of him. The only mark he ticks is accepting to be saved by his mother, which looks very bad taken on its own. I made a post about Por not too long ago if you want more.

The only way for them to redeem themselves and go from 'horrible people who should die' to 'maybe they don't suck they're my poor little meow meows' is penitence. Take Por ; he's the archetype of the rich son who gets abused by his dad and suffers from having so much money. Just like Kang in Dangerous Romance, or Tanthai in Laws of Attraction. Tee ? I don't have names from the top of my head, but he's that hardened jaded guy stuck in a mafiosi network who has to learn to love and be loved again (enters White). Yet the audience learnt to root for these characters.

Basically, nothing is set in stone. Your status as a good or bad victim can shift depending on your actions and the way they're framed. The usual narrative is to get those characters to grow into the acceptable victim pattern. DFF however is going for reverse development (Non, Jin) or stagnation (Por, Tee, Fluke). It makes for gritty yet very realistic storylines ; and while I'm the first to yell that the masked figures should get their ass stat, I also recognize that there's much more complexity to them than this. Except Top. I have yet to come up with a good explanation for what they're doing with Top, but I will at some point.

How did Non fall from grace if he's such a good example ?

Three points : Phee, the paradox of the demand for Non to seek agency but not too much, and his inacceptable betrayal.

Phee as a magnifying factor

I love this kid to bits but Phee's appearance in the flashbacks concurs with Non's flawless image being torn to shreds for a reason. He's a good, strong and caring person who loves and tries to protect Non -something the audience has wanted to do for weeks ; so we all gathered behind Phee and made him our emissary, carrying out the impossible task outsiders to the series' world couldn't : saving Non.

Since Phee voices the questions and concerns of the audience, we are Phee to an extent. Betraying Phee means betraying the hope and love and care the audience has for Non. Phee is the series' moral compass by that point. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this. If not, consider it's a surprise tool that will help us later. When Phee gets hurt by Non or decides he'd be better off lost and dead.

For the record, in this poll Phee gets even fewer votes than White

Seek agency, but not too much

Discontent starts to rise with the helplessness point first as viewers start to question why Non doesn't ditch the group. Why he's putting himself through such trouble. Non changes from being subjected to others' action to being the subject in a grammatical sense. Yet Non has hiw own reasons to stay (how much does the movie mean to him ? How many hours and sleepless nights on the script ? How long would it take for him to find another chance to get enough funding ? How big of a dream is it for him ?). It's the first occurence of the audience claiming to know best what's good for Non.

Complaints quiet down when Non does try to leave for good only to be stopped by Jin. We saw him try, we saw him fail, he really couldn't leave so he's off the hook.

Jin also makes sure Non remains a perfect victim by bringing him back into the group. I'm not accusing Jin of trying to make Non suffer on purpose ; he's a good guy at heart, come fight me to death on this hill. But the only way for him to exist in Non's life is to remain a savior of sorts. If Non leaves, there's nothing to save him from. Which brings us to my next point.

Non must try to solve things by himself, sure. But not too much. Because when you thrash to regain control of your life, you might break a few things in the process. Especially if you have to wrest it away from well-intentioned but firm hands.

He rejected Jin's offers to help numerous times. He looked anything but thrilled when Phee put himself in danger to clear his name. He refused to change schools at first, only to begrudgingly agree when Phee insisted. This insistence is the heart of the matter : Phee is sure he knows best, so he bulldozes through Non's objections and hesitation : he doesn't consult him before asking his dad for help, he speaks in his place when Non doesn't answer his proposal, he puts the bracelet on his wrist. He asks him if he's taken his meds, just in case.

Phee has the audience's benediction in doing so. Part of it stems from our knowledge of future events : we know it's going to end bad for Non. We know he has to get the fuck out. We know whatever decision he makes will be a bad one. Kids and teenagers as a whole are often deemed unable, or not mature enough to make informed decisions anyway. Just look at Non's mother telling him to prioritize his studies so he can go abroad like his brother. Multiply it tenfold for people with mental illnesses ; they get babied on a daily basis. So Non cannot, I can't emphasize it enough, cannot do anything.

All of the above end with Phee getting his way. Non can't win against him, so he chooses to lie instead.

Aside from willing to be in charge of his own life, Non's refusal to let Phee help is also rooted in love and fear. While Phee would offer him an easy way out as he did for the bank accounts, it would most likely only be easy for Non and put Phee in danger. Both their survivals are held in that curt 'no'.

He's already straight up refused help, and now he loses the moral highground by lying (to his perfect holy savior Phee of all people). From here on out, any action he takes will be his -which is what Non wanted ; it's his life, and he won't be a bystander in it. But it also means that he jumped off the pedestal he'd been put on to land on thin ice.

And guess what, Non is a multi-dimentional character in a difficult situation who weighs more than a poor little damsel in distress. Of course said ice cracks. And the Non hate train gets started.

The betrayal

Lying and refusing help to go get it from the worst place he could have had was bad enough. But sleeping with his teacher while he had a boyfriend (Phee, for heaven's sake) ? Unforgivable. Cheating is the BL equivalent of every cardinal sin, the worst of the worst, and no matter the circumstances you'll get roasted for it.

And yet there are circumstances. One, especially, and it's called motherfucking grooming. I won't elaborate on this point cause I've done it over and over already, but Non was groomed by an adult. Does he see things that way ? Probably not. In his mind he's in control of the situation. He can lie to Phee about it because there's no reason for it to backfire. He does what he has to if he wants to save himself, using he one weapon he has : his body. It's cheating, but cheating in a game rigged for you to lose.

Society has two opinions about sex. It's either holy or gross. Take Jin, for instance.

See the look on his face. He's heartbroken, he's sad, he'll live through it. Witnessing Non having sex with his teacher when he has a boyfriend ? Now that's another story. That's a betrayal.

A betrayal of what, exactly ?

Of this goddamn image Jin had painted of Non. The same the audience was given to see prior to these events : Non was perfect and loveable and worth defending, an innocent, pure, helpless baby in need of saving. So when the illusion shatters in what society and especially BL culture hold as the worst action possible, people feel fooled. Stupid, if you will. And they turn their hatred to Non. Non lied to us ! He pretended to be good, dear god, to think I loved such filth ! My heart is so dirty now, ew.

But Non didn't lie. He lied to Phee, but that's it. Everything else was expectations and assumptions. Fail to meet them and suddenly everything is your fault. It's Non's fault for refusing to be dragged along in his own life anymore, Non's fault for lying in order to get some control, Non's fault for lying again not to lose Phee when caught by surprise, Non's fault for listening to Jin, Non's fault for resorting to use his only weapon to get out of a situation he was cornered in, Non's fault for being tricked into thinking any of the decisions he made regarding Keng were his own, Non's fault for everything.

He wanted to claim his life back and made a mistake, yes. He doubled-down on it when he realized it was too much for him to handle. He clung to it and did his best to keep it together. He dared not to be the perfect victim he was supposed to be ; to try when everyone knew he was bound to fail. And you know what, sometimes there's stuff that's someone's fault, consequences they didn't foresee, things they said, slips and falls, and they're still victims, just as much as they were before.

I believe that dealing with his debt himself is as important to Non as finishing the movie is. He's ready to be used and abused (by Keng in the former, the group for the latter) and to break his own heart, values, pride and sanity. He's the most resilient and dedicated character in the show to me.

But the world doesn't necessarily see it that way. So when Non realizes the mess he's made of everything, he fights Keng (who represents his desperate and violent search for complete independence) to reach for the bracelet he got from Phee. He wants help. He needs it. But he's not a victim anymore and any help is denied.

Both Phee and Jin later manage to reconcile their broken image of Non with the man he actually is. Too late to save him, but they still did. I have a hunch that things would have been different if Phee had beat up Keng and taken a crying Non in his arms, holding him tight while whispering none of it was his fault. But our moral compass fucked up, like the hurt kid he is.

What some people did by blaming and hating on Non is closer to the hateful comments he got on the video than Phee or Jin's reactions. They're far worse.

That's the big takeout. What if we stopped stigmatizing or idealizing sex ? What if we stopped demanding perfection and so-called purity for someone's trauma and status as a human being not to be negated ?

Anyway, here's a hug to Non and every victim who live in the paralyzing fear of a single slip. You can make mistakes just like the rest of us. You don't owe anyone perfection.

I'll end this rant on a bright, happy smile. I don't see a good ending for Non, but god knows he'd deserve it.

#I tried to structure it a bit #key word is try #I was angrily typing it and working with a word salad #I hope I didn't lose sight of my point halfway through #but whether I rambled on or not I needed to write it #cause I'm tired of people sorting victims out and choosing who gets respect and justice #and who doesn't #dead friend forever #dff the series #I spent too long on this gotta go shower now

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llannasvsp · 23 days

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Dragons Rising Season 2, Episode 1: The Blood Moon

RAS AT SHADOW DOJOOOOOO

Not Ras bashing the Imperians.

I love that his intentions with the Source Dragon power are taken care of at the beginning of the season.

New intro!

Ninjago TikTok is so funny to me.

Love that the Mechanic didn't learn his lesson from Crystalized.

YES GIVE ARIN ALL THE HEARTS

In this house, we are Intelligent George haters.

RIYU IS SO BIG.

Arin angst hurts sooo bad.

MENTAL HEALTH MENTIONED RAAAGHH LETS GOOOO.

I am the no. 1 Mr. Frohicky lover and defender.

Lloyd manages to make me cry 7 minutes into the episode.

The fact that Lloyd feels like he needs to lie about his lack of sleep just hurts me. Put yourself first, once, please.

ZANE AND KAI PLAYING VIDEO GAMES!!! I love.

Zombie Lloyd.

LLOYD PLEASE STOP LYING.

First blood moon vision. I'm trying to understand it, but much like Lloyd, I cannot. Firstly, Beatrix is definitely still alive. Thirdly, we only see Zane, Arin, and Sora in this vision. Interesting.

Lloyd waking up and immediately going into an attack is just... shattering. Poor guy.

"Uncle". Glad to see the show is addressing that again.

Arin and Lloyd are the trauma besties.

Spirit Wu! I guarantee he's dead.

CINDER FIRST APPEARANCE RAAAGHHH (all I could think of was how @nyaskitten might've reacted to this HAH).

Arin and his pies is so cute.

I kind of love Kreel.

ARIN'S LITTLE SMILE AAAH HE'S SO CUTE.

Soraaaa hiding things like this never ends up well. Please tell someone. It doesn't have to Lloyd. Just. Tell. Someone.

I'm gonna be so honest, I thought Skylor would be in this episode once Riyu ran to that noodle cart. Don't know why I got my hopes up.

Poor Arin :( I want to give him a hug SO badly.

Oh, Arin, your parents would be proud of you no matter what.

OKAY SAMMM that anxious gasping for air was SO good.

CINDERS VOICE??!??!?!??!?!?

Man, Cinder hates kids.

There goes Arin's spine.

Obsessed with how Lloyd enters the fight.

Sam Vincent is doing SO good with portraying anxiety. Lloyd sounds horrified at the reality of his visions.

GONNNNG

Very solid first episode. We get right into the action and it sets up Lloyd's visions and sleep deprivation really well. We learn just enough about Ras' intentions to keep us engaged, but not enough that we know exactly what he wants. I adore that Ninjago is addressing mental health not only with Lloyd but also with Arin. I also love that we see Arin and Sora longing for what the other has.

I still don't want Arin to get elemental powers, but instead realize that he is valuable, loved, and vital to the ninja. I want him to learn that he is not "broken" or "a burden" just because he doesn't have an elemental power. Arin is so important to me.

On to the next episode!

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shaarlslec · 2 years

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lucky charm

read part 1 here lovelies

Charles Leclerc finds his son's paediatrician a little bit too pretty not to ask her on a date right before the Monaco GP.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

words: 7120

warnings: mentions of trauma, fluff (lots);

requested: yes

masterlist

“I have to take you in advance – you will be the one to be patient with two Leclercs from now on instead of just one.”

“Do you think we are ready for this?” You questionably asked as you side-glared at Charles standing right next to you with arms crossed at his chest anxiously looking at you back, “It will be a lot of work for both of us, you know this.” You added, making Charles even more concerned about the whole situation.

Charles sighed, “It is fairly an important step into our relationship, and I screwed it up once already many years ago and everybody knows about that episode in my life since the internet was so keen on what I was doing back then, and I really do not want to mess up again.” He then spoke, nervously stretching his arms back as if he was getting ready for a battle, “But it is you – I know I cannot screw it up if I have you help.” Charles then spoke, dearly looking at you as he titled his head.

You nodded as you patted the man’s shoulder, “Just a warning – I am as horrendous as you are at this.” You spoke after a light soft sigh, “We are in this together, right?” You inquired, mimicking Charles’ head movement as you knew that it drove him completely crazy seeing you all cute and pleading.

Charles chuckled then took your head into both of his hands to place a tender peak on the top of your lips, “We are in this together.”

In exactly what you were two together in sickness and health and what was so consuming for the both of you? Cooking your first dinner together and not going out for your date that evening.

Charles showed you earlier that day the cooking challenge with Carlos where they had to cook pasta and how terrible it went for both. You laughed with your smile up to your ears watching the clip, and that was when Charles challenged you to show him how proper pasta had to be cooked if you were that boastful with your laughs watching him and his teammate doing it wrong. What Charles was pretty much unaware of was that you despised cooking as well, and yet you knew that making a fool of yourself while cooking in front of him was worth it in exchange of spending time at your place in your tiny, crowded kitchen instead of fancy restaurants that Charles always took you to.

You have been dating Charles for a couple of months now and you were both experiencing the honeymoon phase of your relationship during which it was all about kisses, touches and sex, calls and non-stop texting, and anticipations for the future.

You loved spending time with each other as much as you could, although both of your jobs were not helping at all in this – but summer break has just started for Leclerc, and you were going to take advantage as much as you could by Charles’ presence in Monaco when you were not at your cabinet. And now there you were in yet another kitchen terrifyingly looking at the ingredients you just bought spread over the counter.

You committedly took your aprons and placed them around your waists before you begun, you even bought those from the supermarket to mark the first time you cooked together memorable and as professional as it can be.

After all, you were not there to play with food; you were there to compete against each other.

“Let me tie yours like proper chefs do.” Charles insisted, taking the strings from the back, and making a knot at the front of your waist, “See? Now you look like a proper chef, just like me.” He then spoke, resting his hands still on the curves of your waist, “I never knew I liked women in aprons this much up until now, does that makes me less feminist?” Charles then confessed, scanning you from head to toes before pulling you in for a simple kiss that ended up turning into you already pulling the strings from his “proper chef” apron to get him off Charles.

You declined with a shook of your head, “I do not like men who are not feminists.” You confessed to Charles as your mouth went in a tour from his lips to the chin and then his neck tracing the man’s skin with fleeting kisses and nasty bites, “You are safe, I like you very much so.” You added, seeing a very proud smile from Charles that was perfectly matching yours.

“Oh fuck,” Charles groaned as he felt your fingers going underneath the man’s shirt searching for more skin to scratch harder than last night, “What about the whole cooking thing?” He then pleaded as his grip went tighter around your waist with one arm while the other went up to your neck with the tips of his fingers slightly caressing your chin in the process of kissing you more, and more, and more.

You smiled as you kissed him one last time in between the chuckles, getting your hands off him as you heard both of your stomachs growling for food rather than your bodies lusting for sex, “You are right.” You paused, taking two steps away from him to restrain yourself from jumping again on the man’s neck with both of your arms wrapped around him as well as your legs around his waist, “We need to eat first, I am quite famished.” You confessed, using your hands now to tighten the man’s apron rather than loosening it.

“So am I.” Charles teased in a sultry tone a very thick Monegasque accent, leaning forwards to you again just to get a hold of your neck to leave there a mark using the sharpness of his teeth just to place a wet kiss over it after the bite.

You shook your head, “Ok, let’s get the food done quick because you are only making it worse now.” You spoke, almost moaning the first words as your body was shaken by Charles’ unholy gestures.

“Ok, let’s go baby.” Charles clapped in enthusiasm as he rolled up his shirt’s sleeves up to the elbows, and you froze for a little moment there watching him do so – that was the very first time when Charles called you something else instead of your name.

Baby, there was a time when you would have protested for a man calling you baby as you found pet names childish and honestly some of them extremely disturbing but coming from Charles’ mouth baby had a nice ring to it and it made you completely ridiculously giggle as if you woke up on Christmas morning receiving the perfect gift as a ten-year-old girl back in your hometown.

“What’s going on?” Charles confusingly asked looking at you over his shoulder, “Are you laughing because you already think this is going to be easy for you since you know that I suck at this?”

“No, I just think you are cute.” You spoke, wrapping your arms around him from behind to somehow thank him for being such a sweetheart to you, “Boyishly cute.” You spoke, getting on your tiptoes just to kiss the man’s back of the neck before getting your hands dirty alongside with your boyfriend who just instinctively called you “baby” for the very first time in many to come.

Food was not quickly done. You both sucked at cooking, and although you were both aware of that fact – you were not expecting to suck that bad. You overcooked in your first try, and then you decided to take it all from zero and start again. Charles made a chaotic mess in the kitchen trying to spice the sauce right, and you were not making anything easier by being an even worse catastrophe in the kitchen when it came to cut the meat or shaving the parmesan. It took you twice as much to make two servings of pasta than it usually takes to the most unskilled people stepping in the kitchen for the first time, and yet it was not maddening or exhausting at all – it was just good fun.

You laughed non-stop, cracked jokes, and stopped in between the preparation to steal kisses from each other. You two were truly happy for the first time in forever enjoying somebody’s else presence and not feeling pressured to behave in unusual ways. Your smiles were sincere and were not hiding unspoken truths from the other, and your hearts skipped beats normally as hearts do when in love instead of aching for the person standing in front of you.

The sauce was done, and you were waiting for the pasta to perfectly boil for the third time so you could finally eat after too many failed attempts for one dinner preparation. The tiny window was largely open for the steam to get out and you could hear the cars roaming the narrow streets of Monaco breaching the quietness of a late July summer evening. Blows of wind entered the room, engulfing you whole in that torrid scent of mid-season. Music was softly playing from your phone next to you on the counter as you murmured the lyrics of a Sufjan Stevens’ song from a movie you saw ages ago about which Charles had little to no idea but loved to listen to your hums that close to him.

You looked at Charles as he came closer to you to hear your voice better across the space in between your bodies, and for a moment there you would have wished for time to stop so you could just stare at him for as long as frozen time permits – as Charles whished for the very first time you leaned on that hospital kitchen counter and titled your head towards him.

It was just you and Charles in the whole wide world for a split of a moment, two grown-ups in an apartment waiting for their pasta to boil perfectly and hopping that the sauce will taste just right – and nothing else mattered anymore. You both looked each other without saying anything back, just stupidly smiling at the other while listening to music and humming to the tunes.

“I think I am in love with you, Charles.” You bluntly and suddenly broke the snug silence in between the two of you as you were sitting on top of the kitchen counter with Charles in between your legs watching you back, “Is it too soon?” You questioned, fearing that you might have come off too strong and yet being liberated of the hefty feeling that pressed your chest the entire time as you looked at him in silence.

Charles had to know that you were falling for him – the man standing in front of you deserved to know that your intentions were nothing but pure when there were so many people surrounding him just for his social status rather than his companionship. You were sure of his intentions, Charles made them clear to you even from your first date when he first told you that you were fancied by him. You sweetened that now even more by not only fancying him back, but by totally falling in love with him. You patiently waited for Charles’ answer as the anxiety kicked in in a flash after the words were out in the world. What if it was too much for him? What if it was too soon to tell him that? What if he wanted to slow things down now? All your thoughtless inquiries were destroyed in an instant by a warm smile and even warmer words.

“Too soon to be in love with me?” Charles inquired, resting both of his palms on the top of your thighs as he leaned in for yet another quick peak, “To be honest I think I am in love with you since you took that jellybean from my palm back in your fancy hospital kitchen that you took me to.” Charles then added in the sweetest tone you have ever heard him using with you by now, “So no, trust me – it is not too soon.” He then confirmed, watching you watching him back with hopeful eyes.

You could not help yourself by broadly beam at Charles’ words. You were not that used to men telling you exactly what they thought or felt, so the man’s sincerity managed to take you by surprise every single time in the last months when you were told that you were beautiful or asked if you were alright with being kissed or touched in certain places during certain moments. Now Charles did that again – showing you that he cared enough to say what he felt or thought without being afraid of seeming defenseless in front of your own vulnerable self.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke as you rested your forehead on one of Charles’ shoulders as a sudden wave of sadness engulfed your whole body as flashes of past relationships went like bullets throughout your head, “Thank you for not running away the moment I open up to you.” You added, feeling your chest burning and hot tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

Charles took you closer to him in a warm embrace as he felt your body twitching underneath the man’s touch, “That is what I want from you – why would I run from something I am craving for?” He then asked, gently rubbing your back with one of his hands to make sure that you are comfortable enough in the man’s arms.

You ended up with your arms wrapped around Charles’ neck and with his covering your waist for a moment that meant forever then and there. You already had confessed to Charles prior to your home-cooked dinner date that your main issue with dating after you found out that you cannot have children with your ex-husband was not trusting someone enough to stay at your side due to your ineffectiveness of bearing children. Charles was mature enough to understand how and why your break-up caused trauma, and he also understood what he had to do to gain your trust.

Your embrace lasted for a while before the cooking timer went off and the sound of it scared the shit of you two. You both laughed as you figured out that you were two grown-up adults getting scared by a mere sharp sound. You quickly whipped your tears with help from Charles who kissed both of your cheeks after you rubbed your face and smiled back at you, telling you without words that it is all going to be alright and that he will never run away from you when you open up to him – that he was there to stay and keep his spot next to you for as long as you let him do so. You nodded back to him and realized how crazy it was that you already spoke without words and understood each other from simple glares and shakes of heads.

“Speaking of hospitals,” You spoke as you were getting the perfectly now boiled pasta out of the pot, “Is Xavier still at his grandmother’s house? I think he should pay a visit to the office these days because I really want to check how his arm is recovering after one month of being out of the cast.”

Charles nodded, “Ah yes, I am going there tomorrow first thing in the morning to pick him up from mom, I miss him like crazy!” Charles enthusiastically spoke as he was getting the plates ready for you to cover them in pasta, meat and souce.

You happily smiled, there was a different type of happiness that rose within you every single time when Charles spoke about Xavier and vice-versa, “I bet he misses you too – maybe you should take him in a weekend trip somewhere you never been together yet and just talk about cars or whatever you men talk about.” You sarcastically spoke rolling your eyes as a joke.

“And maybe you should join us.” Charles added, looking at you freeze again with pasta up in the air above the plate, “Ok, let me take it from here.” He then giggled, emptying your hands, and preparing the rest of the dish himself while you were processing Charles’ invitation.

“You have not told him about us, right?” You inquired as you anxiously sat down watching Charles adding even more parmesan to the plates as “proper chefs” do – his words, not yours.

Charles declined, “No, not yet – but I really want to.” He then confessed, taking your hand in his as he took his seat next to you, “When you are comfortable with me doing so – of course.” Charles assured you, feeling your grip tightening around the man’s fingers even harder than before.

“Charles I –” You paused to gather your thoughts for a moment before speaking not from a sentimental point of view being influenced by your infatuation with Charles but from a professional one working with children, “I think we should ease Xavier into this first,” You then added, pointing fingers to both you and Charles, “You cannot just drop a bomb like this to a ten-year-old all at once and expect him to be fine with it in an instant.” You argued gesticulating with both of your hands one of which was still held by Charles who was just intriguingly looking at you frenetically making a whole-ass dissertation in front of him as you were bringing medical terms and studies into the discussion.

“Look here love,” Charles spoke moving your chin with two of his fingers to make sure that you were indeed attentive to him and interrupting you from your fanatical debate with no one else but yourself, “Xavier adores you to the moon and back, every single time when he came back from one of his check-ups the first question was when the next appointment with you in scheduled.” Charles confessed, “When I was his age I hated going to the doctors and I still do now, due to that I never understood why he was so excited to see you – I was just happy I had little to no implications in convincing him to visit the medic’s office.”

You sighed, “I know – I adore him too. It is just –” You paused again, “All I am saying is that we need to be careful on how we are delivering the news to him.”

Charles agreed with a nod, “We will. Look, I will come by tomorrow at your office and bring Xavier so you can check his arm and see how he will react to us being in the same room first, is that okay?” He then continued, letting your hand go for the first time in forever that day so you could both finally eat.

You gently smiled, “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Charles chuckled, “I have to take you in advance – you will be the one to be patient with two Leclercs from now on instead of just one.”

When Xavier and Charles entered the room, you felt your heart jumping miles aside your chest. You have had thousands of encounters with patients and their parents before this one, but you have never told one of the parents that you were in love with them twelve hours ahead of their children appointment. You deeply sighed once Charles and Xavier laid eyes on you, and that was Charles’ cue to start the talking instead of you due to your anxiety going through the roof in front of Xavier.

“Good mo—”

“Miss!” Xavier shouted, cutting Charles off in an instant and running with his hands clasped at his back towards you with pure excitement illuminating that little pristine face of his, “I bought you these!” He happily smiled, reveling a small bouquet of what seemed to be freshly picked from the garden flowers, “There are from my grandma’s house, have I told you how huge the garden over there is?” Xavier spoke with the same excitement in the tone of voice as showed on his face.

You declined with a nod, “No, you have not.” You spoke after a murmured ‘thank you’ as you took the flowers from Xavier’s hands, “Did you had fun at your grandma’s?” You asked, glaring at a very amused Charles watching the whole picture in front of his eyes as he was leaned on the locked door of your office.

“Yes! So much fun!” Xavier spoke as made himself very much very fast comfortable in the bed reserved for consultations, “Can I tell you all about it?” He then pleaded, cutely swinging his legs, and clasping his hands together in his lap patiently waiting for you to agree with him narrating every single little detail.

You happily nodded and that was the only sign that Xavier needed to fully open his month and literally tell you all about his two-week vacation back at grandma’s place. Charles was non-existent during the time Xavier talked as you listened with interest leaned towards the child rather than paying attention to your secret boyfriend. Charles found himself a comfy an armchair to lean into and watch you two talking without interfering whatsoever. You two exchanged quite a few smiling glances when Xavier was not having his full focus on you, but besides a whispered “I told you, he adores you” from Charles during Xavier’s sporadic cascade of happenings, there was not so much contact between you and the man who you slept with last night.

“Oh, oh, and my uncles came in yesterday and they taught me how to ride horses! Real horses! They have such big noses, right daddy?” Xavier spoke, being for the first time he even acknowledged Charles in the room aside of just looking at you.

Charles chuckled, “Your uncles or the real horses?” Your boyfriend asked, throwing you a cheeky secret wink in the process of replying to his son, “The answer is yes for both my love.” Charles nodded towards Xavier, “I still cannot believe that Enzo and Arthur took you horse riding without letting me know – I am quite a jockey myself.” Charles proudly added as his shoulders lightly shrugged in confidence.

Xavier gave you a shady side-look, “Do not trust him miss, my uncles told me otherwise.” He then spoke, “Grandma agreed too.” He proudly continued, crossing both of his arms at his chest as if there was a serious argument going between him and his dad.

“Non-sense.” Charles replied, “Do not listen to your uncles – especially Arthur, they do not know what they are talking about most of the times.” He then added, following Xavier’s example, and instinctively crossing both of his arms at his chest too.

You could not help yourself but laugh as you watched them both goofing around with each other. You have prior noticed that there were so many mirrored mannerisms between the two standing across from you, but instantly seeing them in action made your lips hurt from all the smiling.

“I am glad to hear that you had fun, little champ.” You spoke, getting your attention back at Charles’ son rather than him, “But have you been careful with your just released from the cast arm?” You spoke, using your teacher-like tone of voice that somehow caught Charles’ focus in an instant – that was hot, and he could not blame himself for thinking that way when you were only spoken with him in sweet tones by now.

Xavier nodded, “Yes, I have been careful miss. Look, I can even throw a proper punch now!” Your patient spoke, mimicking a box move in plain air just to show how tough the little one was once again, “Do you want me to do it again? Do you want to see that again?”

You chuckled at the same time as Charles, “No, once was enough.” You gently spoke, taking Xavier both hands in one of yours, “I will need you to do some mobility exercises at the same time as me and tell me if something hurts, alright champ? Maybe your dad will help us too?” You inquired, watching Charles already getting up from his armchair and ready for whatever you had prepared for the three of you.

You spent the rest of the appointment analyzing every movement of arms from Xavier and watching closely every reaction to your mobility exercises. Charles followed your orders too and played with Xavier for as much as needed for you to give them the final diagnostic after you pleaded Xavier to bear another X-ray just to check if everything was alright and at its place.

“You are good to go.” You finally spoke after minutes of gymnastics in your office leaving both Xavier and Charles exhausted, “I will prescript some medicines that has to be taken for the rest of the month to strengthen your bones even more, but otherwise you are free to go to your practices and ride horses in pace, but you have to be extra-careful.” You spoke, standing down at Xavier’s eye level to pinch the man’s right cheeks, “Have I made myself understood?” You questioned, glaring at Charles too.

“Yes miss.” Both replied at the same time, causing you once again a huge smile on your face.

“Good boys.” You nodded, patting only Xavier’s head no matter how much you would have loved to do the same with Charles’.

You accompanied both outside the building with the excuse that you wanted to pick something to eat from outside your office when you just wanted more time to spend with the rather than just the period of Xavier’s appointment. You sighed once you saw Charles parking the car in front of you and Xavier knowing that it meant they were going to leave within a few minutes, and you would have loved to stay for hours in their presence just to be a witness to their silly son-to-dad banter.

“You heard the pretty lady right, daddy?” Xavier enthusiastically jumped as Leclerc came back from the car to pick the little on up, “This means that we can go to today’s practice?” The little Leclerc asked with the most pleading blue-greenish eyes you have ever seen a child begging for ‘yes’ as an answer.

“If the pretty lady says it is fine, then yes.” Charles spoke, throwing you yet another not-so-secretive wink that managed to make you blush, “I will take you to the practice today and the day after that and the day after that one.” Charles nodded, taking Xavier’s hands into his to squeeze him whole if that was possible, “My summer break just started – I will take you to all of your practices from now.” Charles happily replied, kneeling to kiss the back of Xavier’s hand.

Xavier’s arms went around his dad’s neck, knowing that will meant that Charles will completely pick him up from the ground and that he will not have to take yet another step to the car – spoiling in the most unharming way the hell of his son, “Thank you for today once again, Y/N.” Charles spoke with Xavier now fully into the man’s arms, “See you next time, right?”

You giggled, “Thank you for bringing him in today and yes see you so—”

“Miss!” Xavier shouted again cutting you off this time and loudly clapping his hands right into Charles’ ears, “What about you come with us today?” He then asked, “You never saw my driving skills that I have been talking to you about and I really want to show them to you.” Xavier pleaded, and that was when you understood how Charles felt when Xavier looked right into his eyes with that piteous innocent look. You just could not say no, and all the spoiling made sense even more now.

You searched for an answer into your boyfriend’s glare, and seeing him basically mimicking Xavier’s puppy eyes right in front of you was not that much of a surprise, “I will drop by once I am finished with working, alright?” You gently replied, trying to play it as cool as possible in front of them and not letting any overenthusiasm show on your face – and yet your rosy cheeks and insanely stunning smile give it all away.

Your phone buzzed half an hour later after you came back into your office as you finished another appointment – texts from Charles blowing up your phone. You laughed like a high schooler deeply in love at both texts while being at the same time still amazed that you were going out with a man who knew how to talk in full sentences even through text and not just in real life.

“See? I told you that Xavier adores you, I was not even in the room for a minute there. I think it went amazing, what do you think? The only thing I am concerned about is him being mad at me for stealing you from him rather than the other way around.”

“Thank you for agreeing with my son’s proposal, shall I send a car for you or are you going to play the hyper independent woman card again? Which by the way I adore but please let me take care of you occasionally.”

The smile was not fading as you replied, “I might end up liking him more than I like you even. And yes, I am going to play the hyper independent woman card again, just send me the address and I will be there after I finish here.”

The reply came right back within a minute, “You are not going to let me take care of you not even occasionally, am I right?”

You leaned back into your chair as you typed, “I can think of a few occasions when you can take care of me, and I fully agree with those.” You replied, scenes from last night when your tights were devoured by the man’s mouth played into your mind.

“Jesus Y/N,” You spoke loudly for yourself as you were now alone in the room, “You are at work for fuck’s sake!” You added, scolding yourself for having dirty thoughts right in the middle of your shift, “Get your shit together.” You chuckled, laughing at your own little dirty mind. It was Charles Leclerc you were talking about – who could have blamed you for that?

You arrived at the karting circuit mid-training. You spotted Xavier on the track right away having the same number as his dad’s winning championship car, and you had to admit right from the start that he was as fast as he told you so – the fastest, the quickest of them all, the smartest amongst the bunch. You took the nearest seat next to the garage Charles indicated you as being theirs through texts and patiently waited for him to come and pick you up from there as you spotted the man’s back inside the open garage. Charles was talking to one of the karting engineers and they were both too focused on the monitor in front of them to be disturbed or to pay attention to their other surroundings. Again, you were nothing but smiles and giggles.

It just felt like you took such a huge step into the two Leclercs’ world and that you were very much welcomed in there. The only think you knew about racing was that it was dangerous, and that people can break bones doing even karting, and yet the very first time you saw Charles at the Monaco GP and now Xavier racing against twenty other passionate racing kids, you understood that there was more than just the suffering part – you understood why and how Xavier will follow Charles’ path. There was beauty in the sound of engines, adrenaline in taking turns, and immense satisfaction in being the fastest, the quickest, the smartest on the tracks.

Charles was guided to you by you shouting Xavier’s name once the little champ’s kart came closer to you as he turned into the corner. It was just practice – and yet you were there to support Xavier and to let him know that you are indeed a witness to the Leclerc legacy in motorsport racing – wait until you found out that Arthur Leclerc was racing too.

“Having fun?” Charles asked you as he took the seat right next to you, “Am I getting dethroned as your favorite driver as we speak?” He then asked, watching you having eyes only for Xavier on the track instead of him sitting next to you.

“You might.” You joked, quickly glaring at Charles once before you returned to his child once again, “It looks like Xavier really missed this.” You spoke, loudly clapping once again as Xavier overtook yet another kart.

Charles nodded, “It is a sentiment that you cannot quite forget – and when you are back at it after a break you wish for it to never end. If you would have told me twenty years ago when I was almost Xavier’s age, that I am not allowed to race for a couple of months only because I broke my arm? I would have probably run away from home and join the race circus or something like that.” He then added with a chuckle, “My parents would have been so mad back then.”

You bittersweetly smiled and secretly took Charles’ hands into yours behind the seats to comfort him with a light play of your fingers in between Leclerc’s – that was the very first time when Charles mentioned both parents instead of just his mother. You knew about Charles’ father from articles and articles only, not daring to ask him something up until now as opening to someone can be challenging at each step – and you were pretty much aware of how hard that was.

“I am sure that they would have been proud of you even if you joined race circus.” You smiled, “The running away from home part – not so much.” You paused with a laugh, grabbing Charles’ pinky into yours for a while as a silent promise.

“Come on now love, let me show you around the garage what is going on until Xavier finishes.” Charles spoke, grabbing you fully by the hand to take you to the place where all the magic happened.

You were too caught up in watching and listening to Charles explaining bits and parts of their world to you that you even forget that your clasped hand was still in Charles’ while he never felt the need to let go of yours. When the karts stopped, and Xavier went up running to you and his father – he caught you in the act too. You only realized what you have done once you saw where the young man’s glare was focused to. The hands were untied at an instant and you hardly abstained to not swear even underneath your breath. Glaring at Charles, you saw your up to then secret boyfriend slightly panicking too although not as much as you were doing so.

“Amazing drive champ.” Charles spoke, “You crushed out there.”

Xavier looked up from you to Charles, and then to you again in what seemed to be disbelief at first that slowly turned into a smile and then in pure enthusiasm. With mouth half-opened and with the hamlet dropping from the little man’s hands, Xavier started to enthusiastically jump and dance to an unknown song which lyrics were, “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!”

Charles confusedly looked at you, and you returned the same glare as you were watching Xavier running towards the both of you and trying to engulf you both into the man’s short arms, “I knew it!” Xavier repeated once more as he wrapped one of his arms around Charles’ right leg and the other one around your left leg, “You are bringing flowers only to girls you like, right daddy?” He then asked, looking up at you and Charles, “That is why you picked flowers this morning for the pretty lady and gave them to me to give them to her – you were too shy!” Xavier continued, making Charles’ cheeks turn a little redder than usual as he heard his son’s words, “My uncle Arthur told me that he has always been like this around girls, he must be right with the horse-riding as well.” Xavier continued, taking two steps away from you two who were unable to react to a ten-year-old young man figuring out that you two dated before you spilled out the beans to him.

Both of you went to one of your knees in front of Xavier to be at the little champ eye level again, “You are right, you should bring flowers only to girls you like – but also be considerate of the other girls as well, fine son?” Charles spoke as he caressed the hair of Xavier, “But yes, you are right – I was too shy to give the flowers myself.”

“Happy to help.” Xavier spoke as he faked a regal bow in front of his father before switching his focus back to you, “Do you like him too, miss? Do you hold hands with people you do not like?” Xavier directly and bluntly so asked you, “I mean I know that my father is kind of old and grumpy sometimes but –”

“You spent too much time with your uncles, that is for sure young man.” Charles intertwined being triggered by the words ‘old’ and ‘grumpy’ used in the same sentence as his own name, “I am not that old – let alone grumpy!” Your boyfriend then spoke, vehemently shaking his head just to frown afterwards due to the dizziness provoked by the harsh movement.

“See? Old and grumpy.” Xavier then took the stand, pointing to the fine lines of Charles’ frowned forehead, “Arthur does not have those, uncle thought me about what they mean back at grandmas.”

A heavy sigh escaped Charles’ mouth, “That’s it! I am revoking uncle privileges from my little brother.” Your not-so-secret-anymore boyfriend then added with a soft and amused smile all over his face as he pinched both of Xavier’s cheeks.

In all the midst of confusion and panic due to your relationship with Xavier’s father being so easily guessed and questioned, you could not help yourself again but just laugh at their dialogue. Xavier certainly had a strong personality that you were not seeing in all ten-years-old and Charles was one hell of a father for turning everything in a fun little game for his son.

“I do like him Xavi.” You spoke, gently touching Charles’ shoulder at your left, “And I would love if you would allow me to like your father even more from now on.” You spoke, locking eyes with Charles for a moment that held eternity within its margins, “What do you think?” You asked, taking both hands of the little champ in yours, “Will you allow me to like this old and grumpy man?”

“Will you give me more candy when I visit?” Xavier spoke, caressing his chin like men do in western movies that he probably has watched with one of his uncles, “Wait!” He then paused, “I will not have to visit you that often – this means that you are going to spend more time together with me without that awful coughing syrup.”

You chuckled and agreed with a nod, “More candies, and no coughing syrup. I promise.” You spoke in a demanding tone, lifting your pinky in the air to catch Xavier’s which was already on his way.

“Mhm? Hello? I am here too?” Charles sarcastically spoke as he covered your pinky fingers with his too, “Why do you two always forget about me in a conversation?” Charles huffed, and you and Xavier could not do anything else but just laugh at the grown man’s whimpers for not being included in the fun group.

The child felt asleep back home as Charles drove you first to your place. You two remined quiet not to disturb the little champ relaxing after a long afternoon of practice. Now there was not only you and Charles alone in the whole wide world – Xavi joined too. The whole way back home you held hands with Charles, and not for even a split of a second as he drove did Leclerc let your hand slip away from him. The only time when Charles’ grip untightened was when against the back of your hand the man’s lips pressed.

“We are not the greatest couple at delivering news.” You spoke, looking over the shoulder at a very asleep mini-Charles as you got off the car in front of your apartment building, “Or at hiding things – we were figured out by a ten-year-old!” You whispered, watching Charles holding the door wide open for you to get down just to softly shut it right back and lock you in between the car and his body.

“To be honest we were not even trying to hide it.” Charles laughed, “Flowers, holding hands? I told him to do both things with a girl he liked in kindergarten already.” He then added with a smile, “Plus, that boy is a genius, and I am not just saying it because he is my son although me being his father means that Xavier inhe—”

“Oh, will you shut up already?” You spoke laughing, cupping Charles’ head into both of your palms as you pulled him closer for a kiss. Charles took you fully into his arms, not kissing you for the entire day was excruciating painful for him. You could feel it by the way he held you closer than ever to his body and by the way his tongue searched for more and more space to fill. You went mellow in Charles’ arms and would have killed for more than just a couple of seconds of him all over you outside in your parking lot and yet you had to stop once you heard Xavier’s voice from inside the car calling for his daddy.

“Who do we have to thank for inventing smoked car windows?” You spoke as you managed to push a very fake sobbing Leclerc out from you, “Go on, your son needs you.”

“Miss?! Miss?!” Xavier’s voice resounded at your back as the window retracted, “I need to tell you what I just dreamt off! I was a doctor just like you!” Xavier then spoke, getting his head completely out of the window to make you pay attention to him.

“It seems to me that he needs you more.” Charles softly spoke with nothing but gratitude inside that sweet tone of his, unlocking the car’s doors after another one of his failure winks.

#you asked i provided #charles leclerc x y/n #fic: lucky charm #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic

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goodomensjail · 9 months

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“Chekhov’s Gun” and Good Omens Episode 1 SPOILERS and speculation

yes i was at the Brooklyn July 18 premiere so these are real spoilers

The “Chekhov’s gun” is a story telling principle that says any detail in a story should serve a purpose in the overall narrative, i.e. if you SHOW a gun to the audience, it SHOULD be fired later in the story.

Applying this to Heaven’s threat of erasing a name from the “Book of Life” as punishment for anyone hiding or kidnapping or assisting in the missing Gabriel issue: we have never heard the term “Book of Life” in season 1, and why mention it as a threat if it is not to be used in the plot? Why not just say “torture” or “toss into the deepest pit” or anything else that we as the audience would clearly understand as “bad thing”?

No, it is purposefully stated “erased from the Book of Life” and then we are explicitly told this will mean “they will have never existed”.

I propose this prediction for the climax of the story, based on my seeing episodes 1 & 2 AND the EVERY SPOILER!!! so STOP HERE if you have avoided and want to continue to avoid “EVERY”. I guess basically here is my current fanfic for the season.

Fact: we have yet to find out Angel Crowley’s name. He suspiciously doesn't give it to Aziraphale who prompts him for an introduction in the opening pre-fall scene. He changes his name at least once, from Crawley to Crowley, and maybe more times since Hastur and Ligur bemoan “whats he going by these days” in season 1

Fact: The ONLY reason Crowley gets involved in helping hide Gabriel is after hearing that the Book of Life erasure punishment is in play and RUSHES to Aziraphale to protect him while “Good old fashioned lover boy” plays

THEORY: Crowley will take the blame for hiding Gabriel by handing him into Hell in order to protect Aziraphale. Gabriel will regain his memory and will come to recognize Crowley as either Raphael or Lucifer (more on that theory later) and Crowley will get Gabriel to swear to secrecy that Aziraphale was involved because hey wouldnt an Archangel want to take out a powerful demon who was once an Archangel or Gods Favorite Light Bringer? So Gabriel allows Crolwey to take the blame and heaven to erase him.

Crowley will rush back to the bookshop to say goodbye to Aziraphale and EVERY happens. Something like “Well i guess if its my last chance to say it” a la doctor who happens, and smoooooch. and THEN.

Nothing happens. Crowley cannot be erased because no one in heaven knows his name. They demand Muriel (a scribe angel) look up “the Demon Crowley” and she realizes rather happily there is no such name in the book. They try “the Demon Crawley” and still no luck.

Gabriel returns to heaven, and he keeps mum on the subject, having gone on an emotional journey with the husbands, he looks at Muriel knowingly and says something like “o well, Muriel keep looking, however long it takes” and he turns on his heel and is off. Muriel smiles and we cut back to our husbands that are really confused, Aziraphale cuz he just got smooched by the love of his life and Crowley cuz apparently he now has to live with his actions....

As for the “Lucifer” theory instead of the Raphale theory: in the HEBREW BIBLE Satan and Lucifer appear to be different angels, Satan a title meaning “the opposer” or “the acuser” and Lucifer “Morning Star” or “Light Bringer” an angel “that fell”.

Crowley was an angel creating stars including falling stars.

Crowley appears to be the more powerful miracle maker in season 1, and appears to outrank Aziraphale in the pre fall scene.

The angels say the miracle to hide Gabriel (which Crowley and Azirpahale performed together) was EXTREMELY powerful, too powerful for Azirpahale.

Crowley was an angel and a demon that did his own thing and didnt listen to authority, either God or Satan.

Satan, the red horny guy, is clearly called “Satan” in season 1 EXCEPT for the bar scene where Crowley states “i was bored... and then hey its lucifer and the guys!” - what if he is referring to HIMSELF and the guys? it would still work.

Neil has been pretty against the Raphael theory for some time....

ANYWAY. This is AAALLLL probably way off BUT if i even have a small portion of something right i need it written down to point to after July 28 :)

In ANY case there MUST be some kind of USE of the Book of Life i CANNOT imagine a world where that “gun” doesnt “fire”

EDIT: another story telling principle is called a “Red Herring” and that could also well be in play here, what with all the “Clue” references earlier this month. Lastly, the Archangels all SEE Crowley in the Job story, but he is in his glasses and in his time appropriate clothing....maybe the fact that he is always blending into the fashions of the time is that he is sorta HIDING his status as Raphale or Lucifer and blending in?

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens theory #good omens speculation #gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers

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my-fancy-hat · 6 months

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I don't think the fate of Asa and Yoshida is settle in this conflict nor that Yoshida's strike is aimed to kill Asa (fjmt is an expert in making us believe things that aren't), for the simple reason that both of them still have not completed their own personal arcs nor have reached the culmination of their development, especially Yoshida, a character who remains a mystery for what he allows us to see from him. However, this last chapter showed a new facet of Yoshida which overthrows a previous assumption that us readers had about him.

Kishibe himself praised Yoshida for his combat skills and his templance as a devil hunter: a few screew loose reflected in a malicious almost childish smile while killing a man barehand. It comes natural for him to act as a weapon, the problem is to be human while being trapped in a problem/system way bigger than him. This time, he's about to kill Asa Mitaka, another enemy for PS, but the feeling is not the same as we saw in part 1: he's tired, definitelly sad. He knows he won't find joy in getting his hands dirty with her blood. It's safe to assume he doesn't want to do this. But, why now? why Asa? what change?

The maximum exposure of his personal conflict was through his conversation with Mitaka about the advantages of solitude through the construction of parasocial relationships, and how both of them should better continue down this path, an advice he assumed it would help her to content her need of connections: his own theory of happiness.

This topic is what later drags Asa Mitaka into a depresive episode due to the dissapointment of her attempts to connect with people, and how she cannot stop herself from becoming attached and creating expectations from relationships that barely exist to only end with her feeling stupid and miserable, where the last nail of the coffin were Denji standing her up on their second date and Yoshida rejecting her feelings again all in the same day. Why do I mention all of this? If you think that Asa is quick to create ideas in her mind out of her extreme emotional starvation, we can say the same thing about Yoshida. His phylosophy of interpersonal relationships takes an expector seat in the movie about his own life, where his feelings are well secured out of the reach of what the screen projects, where he's away from the pain and dissapointment to interact with the reality of rejection. While Asa suffers because she's stubborn and doesn't give up trying again and again to someday end her pain, Yoshida accepts and lives with it as an unchangable reality.

Yet, I believe his theory started to fail to him even before he noticed, during his time in highschool his world-view started to crack little by little (most likely by Denji's influence on him). Even if he didn't share significant moment with the rest of the cast, he enjoyed his time as a highschooler and, well, it isn't what parasocial relationships are about? happiness comes from the ilusion of companionship, and during all this time we've seen Yoshida chatting with someone or reacting about his surroundings in a group, especially with Denji at his side, feeding this needed ilusion of belonging. After all, the deep of these bonds doesn't matter but they're still important/meaningful to the person in question.

Maybe this expression shows that he does care about the people he spend time with pretending to be human just as them, maybe feels sorry to destroy this little life he believes doesn't fit into but had the opportunity to experience. He wants something like that for him too, a normal life where his lack of humanity isn't in the way to his desire of connection.

This is why I find this line very powerful for him to say, he apologize because he couldn't be of help to Asa, to have separate her from Denji while securing her to follow his theory of happiness, and by that to have made her situation worse than before and for things end up like this. He failed to fight the unchangeable once again.

#his last attempt of revolution is on protecting denji from PS interests. and that's what will kill him in the end #wont adjunt his moments w denji bc there's too many and we already know he's important to him and this post is about yoshida+asa #yoshida hirofumi #asa mitaka #chainsaw man #csm #chainsaw man spoilers #i enjoy reading characters better so i leave the plot to smarter people #some people say he will get clapped next chapter bc yoru will gain a power-up for what nayuta said but like. fear doesnt work like that?#the fear of war to that scale grows slower than in a spawn of seconds lets be real

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 14

Hey guys, I meant to put this up this morning but I wanted to give the finale of What Do Shovels Dig? Graves a chance to shine before I put out this next part.

I am such a Steve has an abusive father and a neglectful mother fan. It’s like my bread and butter when it comes to Steve’s parents. Only Allison Harrington put her designer clad foot down and said, “No!” There was even a point that I thought about not having this part in the story at all. But I realized that this is where Eddie starts to rescue Steve and Steve’s mother had to be a part of that.

Also, also! I think it would be absolutely hilarious if in the last episode we get to see Steve’s parents and they’re both former 80s darlings and heartthrobs. My vote is on Ally Sheedy and Rob Lowe. Because they LOOK they could be Steve’s parents.

Anyway, enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Robin cornered him in his bedroom. “You cannot leave anything out!”

Steve laughed. “You were right. He was interested.”

She hit him. “That was more than just interest! He said he loved you.”

“Did you miss the part I said I love him first?” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for that!” she squealed. “I want a play by play for what happened.”

So Steve told her everything.

“He said he loved you first?” Robin asked. “I knew he was flirting with you! Didn’t I say?”

Steve laughed. “I already admitted it. What more do you want?”

“I still can’t believe you got a boyfriend before I got a girlfriend,” she whined.

Steve grinned. “I told you I had game.”

Robin’s face twisted in disgust. “That’s gross.”

Steve laid down on his bed on his stomach, and propped himself on his elbows. “I didn’t know it could feel this way. It’s so much different than when I was with Nancy.”

Robin sat down next to him and curled her hand in his hair. “I would imagine that some of it is because it’s a guy, some of it being Eddie and some of it just being new all around.”

Steve nodded. “Am I rushing this?”

Robin thought for a moment. “I’m not going to lie. Probably a little. But when you both survived something you shouldn’t have, it’s a little hard not see why you wouldn’t want to jump in with both feet. Just as long as you know how far deep it goes, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Steve rolled over on his back and flung out his arms. “Just being with him feels me with a warmth I didn’t know I was missing. Which is not to say I don’t love you or the kids or anything like that. What you and I have is special. No doubt about that. But this is special in a different way.”

She laid down next to him and he wrapped her in his arms. “I think you finally found what you were looking for.”

He hummed curiously.

“Remember when I said we should combine because you didn’t know what you were looking for but had all the moves and I had zero moves but knew what I wanted?”

He nodded. “Ahh.”

Robin scoffed. “Now I just need to steal your moves.”

“I don’t think taking Vicki to a Metallica concert is going to cut it,” Steve teased.

Robin lurched up and grabbed his pillow. She began hitting him with it as he fended her off laughing hysterically.

She suddenly stopped. “Maybe not a concert, but I could take her somewhere fun and see if she gets the message.”

Steve smiled. “See? There you go.”

She settled back down into his arms. “I am happy for you, you know.”

“I do know,” he murmured.

They fell asleep like that, still dressed in each other’s arms.

Steve wakes to the phone ringing. He almost decided to to let it ring when through the fog of sleep the memory that Eddie was going to call pierces through and he’s immediately scrambling over Robin to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Steven, is that anyway to greet your father!” came the sharp voice on the other end.

Steve looked over at his alarm clock and frowned. It was barely after seven in the morning.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said. “The phone woke me up.”

“Lazing about on a week day?” Mr Harrington snapped. “I raised you better than that!”

“Dad...” Steve groaned. “I know the hospital called you. Sleep is something that happens when you’ve been hurt. Plus, it’s just after seven. My work doesn’t open until ten, I get up at eight.”

Robin looked at him nervously chewing on her thumb.

Mr Harrington harrumphed. “I suppose so. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

Steve sighed. “What’s up? Are you and Mom okay?”

“We’re fine,” Mr Harrington said. “We heard about the earthquake and we’re coming home.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up and Robin squeaked.

“Is there someone with you, Steven?” Mr Harrington asked.

Steve gulped, trying to force down the bile that had risen in his throat. “Just my co-worker. They stayed the night so we could drive into work together.”

“I wish you would get a girl and settle down, Steven,” Mr Harrington complained. “You mother wants grandchildren.”

“I–I...” he stammered, looking over at Robin for support. “I’m seeing someone right now, but I’m still barely a teenager. I’m not in any rush to get married.”

Robin gave him a thumbs up.

Mr Harrington sighed. “I suppose young boys do need to sow their wild oats somewhere. We’ll be home this weekend. Please make sure the house is spotless, won’t you?”

“Sure thing, Dad.” And then he hung up.

“Fuck. I should have known my luck would run out.”

Robin tilted her head to the side. “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, scrambling to get up.

“If you’re anything like the rest of us,” Robin explained waving her hands, “you were given hush money over all the shit that went down.”

Steve frowned. “I mean I guess so. I never really thought about it.”

“The reason I still have to work to make ends meet is because I’m still under eighteen. I don’t get access to it until then.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “I mean when my dad said he cut me off and that I had to go get a job, I never even thought about the money that was mine. Usually I would just cash my check and keep it all in cash. Nothing went into savings because I didn’t trust my dad not to take it.”

“I think you need to call your bank and find out exactly how much money you do have,” she said.

He nodded. “I like the idea of having more money than I thought but how does this help me out of having my parents come home this weekend?”

Robin grinned.

Steve had to admit it was a sound plan. And it turned out that he had quite a lot. As in over three hundred thousand dollars a lot.

Played right and Steve would never have to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to. It was quite the eye-opener.

He sat down with a financial planner and got things setup properly and away from his dad’s hands. And then moved all but the visible belongings out of his room and into storage.

Steve had even timed it so that neighbors though that he was donating stuff to the aid instead of moving. He kept his clothes, but had two unzipped suitcases under his bed in case he needed to pack in a hurry.

All this while working, volunteering, and looking for a place to live. A lot people offered their house, Eddie and Robin included. Which Steve loved. And they would make great temporary places to bunk down if he needed to bail fast. But he wanted his own place too.

So Eddie and Robin would take him house hunting. Yep. A house. Steve had the money and it wasn’t as though he could leave while the kids and Eddie still needed him.

They hadn’t found a place yet by the time his parents came home, but that was to be expected.

As soon as his parents walked through the door Steve knew that having an escape plan in place was a good idea. Because immediately his mother went flying toward him.

“Steven!” she cooed. “What on earth happened to your neck?”

Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly. “As the doctor would have told you had you bothered to answer or return his call, I was attacked by feral animals and was almost torn to pieces.” He lift the front of his shirt to show the gauze still covering the ginormous gash in his side.

Mrs Harrington gasped and even Mr Harrington looked surprised.

Steve lowered his shirt. “That’s not including the road rash on back from when they dragged me across the ground,” he continued. “Or the many concussions I’ve had over the years. Or any number of injuries that I have suffered and you never bothered to come home for.”

Mrs Harrington turned to her husband and slowly advanced on him. “Why wasn’t I told about any of this?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that. He had assumed that she knew, too and didn’t care. But even from behind Steve could tell she was pissed. Her back was rigid, her shoulders were squared and every step she took toward her husband was like a tiger stalking its prey.

And that right there was why Steve put his mother down as a reference and not his dad. His dad was a blowhard. His mother? Was a badass former district attorney and was still respected in the community.

Mr Harrington was digging the hole deeper for himself. “I figured it was just some jumped up doctor looking to milk us for all its worth.”

Mrs Harrington stopped moving toward him and let out a slowly angry breath. She whirled around. “When is your next doctor’s appointment, Steven?”

Steve blinked for a moment. “Next Tuesday? They want to make sure nothing is infected.”

She nodded curtly. She pulled a large manila envelope out of her designer purse and handed it to Mr Harrington. “These are divorce papers, Harold. You will be speaking to my lawyers in the morning.” She turned to Steve. “I’m hungry, darling. Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I mean, of course. Just let me grab my coat.”

Mr Harrington bristled. “You walk out that door, Steven and you won’t be allowed back in it.”

Steve nodded. “Right. Mom, can you give me five minutes to get some things together?”

Mrs Harrington smiled. “Of course, sweetie.”

Mr Harrington’s jaw dropped and she turned back to him. “If you even so much as touch any of my things, I will have you charged with theft. I have pictures and documentation on where everything is, so don’t even try to snoop.”

He continued to sputter as Steve came down the stairs with both suitcases.

“Do you have everything you need, dear?” Mrs Harrington asked, eyeing the two small suitcases.

Steve laughed. “Yeah. I figured he was going to pull this bullshit this weekend so I moved most of my stuff out already.”

She laughed. Bright and clear as bell. Steve smiled. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in such a long time. She took one the suitcases and linked her arm with Steve’s free hand and they walked out the door together.

***

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

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queenmea604 · 8 months

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I will Miss It ( B.CH )

➣ Pairing : Bang Chan x F!reader

➣ Genre : Angst, Fluff

➣ Words Count : 0.8k

Masterlist

I don't know the news about Chan's room is true or not but i hope it will not become true because i been crying since the news spread so i make this fics to comfort myself and Stays outside there, If the news will not come true. I prepare this fics for future then, I hope you guys enjoy this short fics

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You scroll through your Tiktoks until you come across some video about Chan talking with one of his fans, and they talk about Chan's room. You watch the full video, and after that, you tear up when you hear Chan say that he can't continue Chan's room anymore because the company didn't give him permission. You broke down in tears until your pillow was wet from your tears. You feel so sad right now after knowing that Chan cannot continue doing live like he always does after the controversy a month ago. You feel so devastated knowing how much Chan's room means to Bang Chan, and after this, STAY will no longer get to see his signature peace sign before ending live.

You open Youtube, and you search for Chan's room from episode 1 until the last Chan's room while tears stream down from your eyes. Your eyes become red after you cry non-stop. You didn't hear the room door get opened by someone because you were too focused on watching all of Chan's room to notice one figure stand beside you. You felt someone standing in front of your bed, so you lifted up your face only to meet up with Chan's eyes, which turned soft when he saw some tears on your cheeks.

" Babygirl, are you crying? " Chan is asking you with a concerned voice.

You sniffled before you cried harder than before and made your boyfriend give you a big hug while he calmed you down.

" You can tell me what's on your mind " Chan, leave some kisses on your head.

" After- this no more- Chan's room " You cry on Chan's shoulder.

Chan rubbed your back in a tender way, and he pursed his lips when he heard what you said just now. Chan knew that the news had already spread across the world about him stopping to do Chan's room, but he couldn't do anything about it as that was what his company told him to do, and for his own good, he also felt sad to end the things he liked to do. Chan didn't blame anyone for this, but he blamed himself.

" You love to do Chan's room, but now you can't do it anymore " Your eyes hold much pain for your boyfriend.

You stare at his beautiful eyes with tears in your eyes, and Chan gives you a sad smile. You wish you could tell him how much STAY wanted to give him big hugs like he always does in live. Chan needs to know how much people treasure Chan's room, which he always does every Sunday. He helps many people overcome their depression with his live. Chan doesn't deserve some hate that he didn't do, or toxic people should stop making speculation about something not confirmed and just throw hate directly at him when he is just speaking about respect. Chan always smiles at his fans without their knowing the pain he feels deep inside his hearts. People should also respect his feelings and not just jump to conclusions.

" Now it's my turn to give you some big hugs like you always do " You do what Chan always does in his live.

You hope this simple gesture can comfort the pain he keeps alone for himself, and you hope the news will not become true. You don't want Chan to end something he really loves to do just because of the hate he receives. You wanted to protect the man you love and will not let anyone hurt him anymore. Chan is also the best leader for STAY.

" You're the best leader, you did a good job holding until now " You hold Chan's face in your small hands.

" You're amazing, and all of your hard work is also amazing, I don't know how you can hold all the pain until now " You said, caressing his face.

" I've got my fans that support me and give me very helpful words, I still stand here because STAY is my home " Chan said softly when he thought about STAY.

" Without STAY, Stray Kids will not grow up, or people outside there will not know who we are. STAY is the one who makes all of us successful and gives me some strength to fight all the pain I have " Chan continues his sentences, and he wipes the tears from the corners of your eyes.

" Chan's room might not exist anymore, but I will stay inside STAY hearts with all the memories we share in Chan's room. Let's cherish all the memories I left when I do Chan's room and keep the memories for ourselves " You almost teared up again when hearing Chan's words.

" Okay, I will keep all the memories you share with us and always remember the moment we all had in Chan's room " You give your boyfriend a bright smile.

Chan chuckles a little bit before he gives you a kiss on your lips. Both of you cuddle with each other, and you continue watching Chan's room with Chan, who has a happy smile on his face.

' Let's just remember all the happy moments we shared, and I will miss it '

The End

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #bang chan x you #chan x reader #bang chan angst #stray kids angst #skz fluff

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pinkandpurple360 · 4 months

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to be fair i don’t think ozzie kept his relationship with fizz on the dl bc he’s an imp (he doesn’t seem concerned that people know they up have sex), but because of the whole lust/love thing. which is stupid, but it’s also vivziepop writing so whatchu gonna do 🙃

ozzie does seem to be one of the “better” upper class members in terms of how he treats other species (imps are allowed in his clubs, he regularly interacts with succubi/imp hybrids, everyone at his workplaces seem pretty happy and unlike stella and andre, he doesn’t seem particularly discriminatory or callous), but he still calls moxxie “little imp” (granted he is literally little and an imp and its a performance) and his imp boyfriend “froggy” which with the fire toad slur kinda raises eyebrows? this could also just be vivziepop Not Thinking but. hmm.

even bee who is shown partying and dating hellhounds, said to be even lower than imps, still runs the abusive adoption pound and signs her name on every adoption paper. she can cover it up with honey and a smile all she wants but she’s 1000% complicit in their oppression. like how does tex feel about that??? it reminds me of corporations who do all this virtue signaling for social justice but give billions to horrible causes. but i don’t think vivziepop understands that because again. rich background. “bee was nice to loona so its ok!!! deeper implications? what’s that?”

speaking of which, every time viv likes a tweet about how striker deserves nothing and is a toxic masculinity homophobe makes my blood boil. i don’t particularly like striker and i lost any interest in him after western energy but he and crim are really evidence that viv thinks “STOP BEING POOR” is a valid argument. also wasnt he flirting with blitzo in his first ep???? so like? huh???

i will say one reason i ship blitzstriker is because they seem to have similar views in regards to class (at least pre oops…) and i can totally see them staking it out on the run together. i can’t see fizz doing that, he flaunts his wealth and even tho he says “it’s nice being out of the spotlight” i cannot see this man surviving without luxury items for over a day loo. even in the circus, he always had the best clothes and was the main breadwinner and while the circus is said to be struggling, he never seems to be. i think that’s another reason i personally never got fizz’s insecurities, because he’s been the ace his whole life???? like as someone who has struggled a lot for ANY recognition or love it just makes him seem spoiled to be like “ozzie no luv me bc im not perfect :(“ i think your manipulator idea would make more sense.

anyway this turned into a ted talk. you dont have to answer everything. im realizing i actually hate what helluva boss is but i love the fanworks and the potential it had. sigh.

Isn’t it so funny how we have to pick which flaws are on purpose and which are just…Viv being a bad writer. Like we have to accommodate her forgetting or not caring enough to put the work in and review it after.

Paragraph 1: I definitely agree 100%, I like the part where the imp and succubi are his patrons, equal, including the butler who stolas abuses. Which feels like a very purposeful decision to contrast him with Stolas specifically. But there’s still the fact that Ozzies is so overpriced and exclusive and yet, rich folk like stolas can just waltz in without any reservation for free, by threatening the bouncer with…something. Violence? Imprisonment? Ruining his life? Honestly I wish we could have seen Jesse tell Stolas to fuck off, before he notifies the big man of what he just tried to do.

Paragraph 2: He is one thousand percent better, and he respected his employees who in turn liked him and weren’t scared of him. However he’s a better monarch, but still a monarchby and at the end of the episode he betrays his employees trust and uses intimidation and the threat of violence to silence them. Also froggy??? Really? Really? And got every time he says it the cringe levels are intense, it feels deeply deeply ooc.

Back to paragraph 1 again: the secrecy…it’s about the inexplicable anti love thing, but I’m just saying I think fizz feels that way. Like in that article I keep referencing they say things like “heart hoarded by an imp?!” Which I suppose is equivalent to anti imp racism in hell. Stereotypes of them being untrustworthy selfish beings. Which is also the fuel for Stolas’ fetish. It just really pissed me off the way Asmodeus said “still getting your kink on with that feisty imp?” And stolas says “this imp has a business he runs” I was wayyyy to charitable to Asmodeus in the past and regret it so so much.

Paragraph 3: Many people point this out about Bee and I really hope her nice persona vanishes fast because it’s just ridiculous given her status and what she’s done. Why are your hellborn the most downtrodden of them all if you’re ohh so nice miss Beelzebub? And how the F could Loona not know who Beelzebub is??? Do her and Blitzø not realise who signed off on the adoption certificate? (Confirmed on Vivs patron that it was in fact Bee) why is Tex working as a bodyguard for verosika who calls him “my new hellhound” and yells at him, he also says he’s not paid enough to care about her issues. Sooo….why is he still in such a shitty position despite being with Bee. You’d think he’d at least be working because he wants to work but he doesn’t even seem

Paragraph 4: LITERALLY!!! Viv is such a privileged rich girl that her villains are poor. While she’s going on a world tour but raging at Twitter people criticising her pet character. She’s literally Stella and a Mammon: “Can you imagine not having money ahahhahh” — Viv describing why striker is so evil

Paragraph 5: another question is why would Blitzø being jealous of Fizz be such a bad thing? He didn’t want to cause the accident. But why would him hating how bad he is at making people laugh,,,make him bad? That’s why I love their arguments because neither is completely wrong or right. His father literally loves him more than his own son and as you said, he gets pampered the most and loved the most. He can’t stand someone not liking him for even five seconds which should be a character flaw, not endearing. But, Fizz doesn’t have a father at all, so he’s not completely wrong. And if his parents did abandon him and nobody would adopt him, that explains why he doesn’t feel good enough to be loved and why he needs audience approval. Viv just forgot to write that FUNDAMENTAL part into the f**king episode.

I love a good fish out of water story and seeing fizz slowly learn to fight beside his friend proving that their differences are compatible was great. By the end, Fizz seemed almost happier and freer by Blitzos side than by Ozzies side, but the goldfish is just put back in the bowl, which sucks.

Your last line made me almost laugh cry tbh because there’s enough lost potential to fill a fountain. The episode had such a strong start then around the breakdown things went south and it stopped being good. The status quo isn’t different at all and fizz just slightly shifted his destructive needs for affirmation onto a different royal.

#helluva boss critical #Fizzarolli critical

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neuroticbookworm · 7 months

Text

I'm a tad late to the Absolute Zero party, but before I start screaming about how good episode 1 was, a little background:

I've not watched a single show directed by New Siwaj. I've watched one (1) show written by him -- Double Savage, and if I never think about that show ever again, it will still be too soon. I have zero minimal New Siwaj baggage and will therefore be the control subject of the Absolute Zero watch experience.

Now that that's out of the way, Y'ALL. THIS EPISODE. WAS SO GOOD. I LOVE sad stories that make me feel like my heart is being punched out of my chest, and this show is already so goddamn sad. Suansoon's parents have been dead for SIX years, and he's lonely and grieving and depressed, and @twig-tea made the incredible observation that he also seems stuck in time, unable to move on from his loss. He meets Ongsa in an adorable movie theatre meet-cute that spoke so deeply to my sucker-for-classic-romance-tropes heart.

And it seems like Ongsa might already be aware of the time loop shenanigans, from him pursuing Suansoon so quickly -- "I wished Suansoon to be my boyfriend", to the unexplained tears he shed after watching Suansoon just smile and enjoy his company (and an icecream, yum!). Which adds to the intrigue, and to the overall melancholia of the show -- Ongsa wanting a relationship with Suansoon, just being present in Soon's life and making memories, even though he (potentially) knows in advance that it's gonna end in tragedy is some Arrival levels of sadness I was not expecting.

And most importantly, it's not all grey and gloom. The overall tone of the episode was definitely melancholic, yet the lighter moments of laughter, domesticity (cc @troubled-mind), and just.. contentment that Soon experiences in Ongsa's presence did not feel out of place. It was seamless and flowed well with the undercurrent of sorrow. And when I shared this with @bengiyo, he said, and I quote "Exactly, that's why I knew (the show) was gonna fuck us up". And he is absolutely correct. And I cannot wait to go fetal on the floor and just sob over these characters when the show finally decides to ruin us.

P.S: There are two sad gay shows currently on air (I Feel You Linger In The Air, my beloved) involving 1. time shenanigans and 2. smoking hot men that @lurkingshan, @waitmyturtles and I can't stop ogling (though @waitmyturtles is currently alone in the "simping for Pastry Nat" camp) which is all a long-winded way of saying that we're having the time of our goddamn lives!

#one episode was all it took #if new siwaj fucks this up i will hulk out on this hellsite #absolute zero the series #absolute zero #absolute zero meta #new siwaj #suansoon x ongsa #ongsa x suansoon

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k8fics · 1 year

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Ruined Legacy

My Way to Freedom

summary: Based off “My Way” by Frank Sinatra; Joel & Ellie find a curled up woman in a farmhouse with a freshly dead guy outside — Episode 1 of the ‘Ruined Tragedy’

rating: R - just reader’s backstory & character building (my bad), some joel splattered in there tho, she cannot catch a break, abusive/toxic relationship (not joel), murder, brutally killings, dead parents, captivity (kinda? idk man), thoughts of suicide, cussing, hopefully that’s all

And now the end is near

And so I face the final curtain

I still remember how my mother woke me up that night; tears streamed down her face, and her entire body shook. How she frantically grabbed my hand, pulled me towards the basement door, sat me down on the cold ground, and told me to wait down there while she received a call for help from my father.

I still remember how I stared at the small window, covered by the dusty curtain. How the lights from the outside world showed through the glass, the orange hues, the flashes of car lights, the shadows of people’s feet running away.

I still remember waking up down there. This time, my parents were with me, arguing over each other. My mother paced with her arms flailing out, my father leaning on the concrete wall with his arms crossed.

“We can’t just leave! You heard the TV, we’re instructed to stay inside!” She yelled.

“And you saw what’s out there. We have to get out of here, who knows if they’ll start bombing again.” He said calmly. She only sighed in response, stopping and looking directly at me.

I stayed silent, still acting like I’m asleep. But she could tell I was awake. Mom always could tell. She walked over to me, with a smile. Although, the smile was fake. I could tell she was scared.

She put her hands on my face, I leaned into her. “Hey, baby... We gotta go, let’s start packing.” She said, pulling me up.

As I walked to my room, and she walked to hers, I looked out the window. Your neighbor’s house still burning from the night before, the ground covered in blood and ash. The world has gone to complete shit.

My friend, I’ll say it clear

I’ll state my chase of which I’m certain

“Who the fuck are you?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a gravelly voice. You looked up to see a girl and a man. You glanced around to see you were in the same room you had been stewing in for the past day.

You opened your mouth to speak, lips cracked from the lack of moisture. “..I stay here.” You stated, not in the most cohesive terms though.

The man still had his gun pointed at you, looking at you and then at your surroundings. “So why is there a freshly dead guy on your porch?” It was like he was a detective investigating you. Although, a detective’s attitude would be less intimidating than his.

“I killed him.”

I’ve lived a life that’s full

I travelled each and every highway

And more, much more than this

I did it my way

My father was always a survivalist. He taught me how to make a fire out of sticks, how to hunt — even when I was begging him not to make me shoot an innocent creature, — and, starting last year, how to defend myself.

He said something about ‘it was better to be prepared and nothing happen than to be unprepared and have something happen.’ I guess he was right, at least we’re prepared. Though, I don’t think he expected his 16-year-old daughter to be using these skills so soon.

After the first month of walking through decaying neighborhoods, buildings, and streets, I was put on map duty. I didn’t mind it, it helped me think. I didn’t want to think about who and what was lost, how all my friends were gone, how my life and future were ruined.

Regrets I’ve had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exception

The walking was the worst part, and although the pain in my feet was unbearable, the pain of walking away from the only life I’ve ever known hurt more. I wished I could have told that guy in my 3rd period I liked him, I wished I told my friends I loved them more, and I wished I could be with them without my parents grieving my death.

I wish I didn’t have to kill. Even though it was only a few, it kept me up at night. I would close my eyes and only see their bloodied faces. I would fall asleep and see them beside me.

I tried so hard to not let it get to me. I had to do it. If not for them, it would’ve been me. Maybe it would’ve been me.

I planned each chartered course

Each careful step along the byway

And more, much more than this

I did it my way

My parents met Tim as they were going on a supply run while we were stationed at an old house. He had been staying in the overgrown convenient store tending to his wounds when they came in.

Dad said the man didn’t even put his gun up just kept his hands above his hands. Mom said he showed them a bunch of supplies that hadn’t expired. They said he was a good man.

I had just planned our next ‘trip’ when they brought him. He was pushy and, honestly, very arrogant. Even if he didn’t show it around my parents. He wasn’t ugly, but I had no attraction toward him.

“I guess he’s just not my type.” I told my mom when she asked why I didn’t ‘give him a chance.’

She laughed at my response, “Well honey, just give him a chance. It’s been 6 years since you went on a date-“

Before she could speak further I interrupted her, “Yeah Mom, 6 years since the world went to shit. I don’t need some guy to protect me, you know? I have you guys for that.”

And she laughed. God, I missed her laugh.

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew

When I bit off more than I could chew

It had only been a few months since Tim joined us. I could see something was wrong with him. His eyebrows were always furrowed like he was trying to figure out the hardest math problem. His jaw clenched when my dad talked to him, sometimes I thought he was going to hit him.

To my dismay, he was much pushier. He would constantly want to be around me, he would always go with me on my runs, and, worst of all, he would not stop asking me out.

After the tenth time that week, I had enough. “Where would you take me out to, Tim? What? The woods? The old diner down the street that’s infested with the infected? Oh! Or do you want to go to the shed by the creek where the clickers are?” I said, no yelled.

His face changed completely. The cocky smile contorted into the same expression that scared me throughout these months. “You’re going to regret saying that.” That’s all he said before walking towards his place of residency for the time being.

Later that night, I woke up to several grunts and pleas. As I tried to move my hands up to rub my face, I realized that my body had been attached to a rope wrapped around a tree. I looked around at my surroundings, I was outside in an open area in the woods. In front of me were my parents in the same predicament as myself.

I called for them. They didn’t respond, both of them looking off to the side. I turned my head as much as I could to see what they were looking at. To my shock, it was Tim standing there. Leaned up on a tree, axe in hand. When I called for him instead, that’s when all three of them turned to look at me.

My mom looked like she had been crying for hours. My father looked furious, a face I hadn’t seen in a long time, his face was bruised and bloody. His right eye was swollen shut and his nose bleeding. Tim looked the opposite, he was clean like he had taken a shower moments before, although, his knuckles were bleeding, and his face. God, he looked ecstatic.

He walked over to me, his axe still gripped tightly in his hand. He looked down at me before placing a hand on my face. I flinched, his face looked like it did that afternoon prior.

“You should’ve just except my fucking date. Now, look at what you made me do.” He said.

I shook my head, “Please... My sorry, please don’t do this.” I pled, but all he did was walk over to my parents.

I scream at him for what felt like an eternity but his back still faced me. He only looked at me when he got in the face of my mother. When I looked into his eyes, I knew he wasn’t going to stop, no matter what I did.

I watched him kill them both with the axe. I couldn’t protect them. I could only cry. The most undeserving deaths. Just for what? A date?

He came over to me quickly after killing them both. I had stared at their corpses for so long that I hadn’t noticed him cutting the rope. I ran to them as soon as I was free. Not long after, he came after me.

But through it all when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out

I faced it all and I stood tall

And did it my way

I remember when Tim took me from my home. The way he would talk about my parents was like they were some problem in my life. How I didn’t need them, I was too old anyways. It felt like he was jealous of it all, that I had my family and he didn’t. I found sympathy in him, in a way.

‘Maybe it’s the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in.’ I would think. But then again, he murdered my parents because I wouldn’t date him. Who the fuck does that.

One time I brought it up to him, which landed me on the ground with a hard punch in the face. I didn’t talk for the rest of our travel.

One year later, he found a farmhouse. It was impressive, basically taken out of a Hallmark movie. Though my impression of it changed when I got to the children’s rooms, it didn’t take long for him to start commenting about how we should ‘fill them up.’ Fucking disgusting.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed, and cried

I’ve had my fill, my share of losing

After 13 years of being here, I learned to live — or survive as I like to call it — with him. Sure, I tried to escape a few times, but it never worked out in my favor.

The first time I left, I was gone for a week. I lived in the woods, trying to find some haven which was harder than it looked, considering I didn’t have any access to a map or any weapons. Tim confiscated everything on me the day we left my parents’ rotting bodies.

He found me curled up behind a tree, facing a creek. Fighting him never worked. No amount of self-defense could ever get him down without a weapon. He was bigger than me, and when a stick didn’t work, I gave up.

All the escapes after had been futile, he had set up traps in the woods close to the house, knowing I couldn’t walk on the trail without him seeing me on his day-night searches.

He wanted me to be a stay-at-home-whatever-the-fuck. So fucking be it. I won’t lie, I played the part as much as I could. Whatever would get him to leave me alone. It didn’t work sometimes, but it did for the most part.

So I “loved” him. If love is making him food, cleaning his messes, cleaning his clothes, and letting him hug me.

I laughed at his stupid jokes that I had heard a million times before this shit show.

I cried at night when I had to share a bed with him. Feeling guilty that I couldn’t do anything about this predicament, that I couldn’t find a single sharp thing that could kill him or myself.

And now, as tears subside

I find it all so amusing

He left early that day, earlier than usual. When I woke up he was gone, only leaving a note saying he had gone on another supply run. I scoffed as if we don’t have enough.

I barely know where he goes these days, you would think after all these years, he had found every single store or house, but I guess not.

As I walked to the kitchen, I noticed something abnormal on the table designated for Tim’s backpack. It was a fucking knife.

‘He must’ve left it there when he was searching through it.’ I thought. “Dumbass.” That was all I said before quickly grabbing the handle and pocketing it.

Soon after I was done making eggs — still don’t know where he gets the eggs from, he could’ve at least told me that — he came back. I gave him a short greeting before putting the two plates on the table and sitting down. He sat down next to me, both of us not uttering a single word. It was nice, the silence.

I got up as soon as I was done, cleaning off my plate. Before I could leave, I was entrapped by his arms, pulling me into his chest. I scowl, still not used to touching the horrendous man.

“I love you.” He said. “I-“ Before he could speak any further, I reached behind me and stabbed him the first place I could reach, his left shoulder.

He released me and stumbled away, giving me time to run to the door. As soon as I unlocked and opened the door, I was pushed to the ground, landing on my back onto the dirt in the front yard. Tim was on top of me, panting heavily, his blood and spit dripping down onto my face. I struggled with him as his hands tried to find a way to my neck.

My hands faltered for a millisecond, allowing him to wrap his hands around my neck. I fought with him once more, arms and legs flailing, trying to get him off of me. My attempts were futile. The harder I fought, the harder he gripped my neck.

He smiled menacingly when he saw me losing strength, “You spoiled fucking bitch. After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you're fucking repaying me? Stabbing me with my knife?” He screamed in my face, as I sobbed and kicked.

I accepted my fate, me dying in the hands of the man that has made my life miserable, at least he would leave me alone now. “I should’ve killed you right in front of your mama and daddy.” He said.

Something snapped in me. Sure, maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the hatred I consumed for him for years. But I like to think my parents wanted me to avenge their deaths.

To think I did all that

And may I say, not in a shy way

Oh no, oh no, not me

I did it my way

As soon as my right hand felt the unfamiliar, cold object, I quickly grabbed it and hit him once in the head with as much force as I could gain. He was on the ground instantaneously. I got up on her feet taking a few breaths before pulling myself into a defensive position. My hands up and set on the metal pipe securely, eyes focused on the battered man’s wheezing form.

To my surprise, he stayed on the ground, back facing me as he groaned in pain. I stepped closer and kicked him in his backside. “Fucking look at me, you coward.” I snarled, “Look at what you fucking did to me!” I screamed at him, kicking him once more.

This time he decided to look at me. Eyes moving towards me away from the afternoon sky, “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this to me, baby.” He pled with me. And for a second, I thought about letting him go, but I knew that wouldn’t stop him from trying to find me. This had to end.

I took one step towards his battered body before speaking, “I fucking trusted you. My parents trusted you, and you murdered them like it was nothing! You wanted me to think it was nothing!” I screamed, letting out every single emotion I had felt throughout these years. “I have hated you ever since that night. You didn’t fucking save me! You’re a murdering waste of space.” I admitted.

“I saved you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “You didn’t save me. You ruined me.” I said, before hitting him again. I repeated myself once more before hitting him again for good measure.

For what is a man, what has he got?

If not himself, then he has naught

When I was done, the man was unrecognizable. His face caved in, bruises showed through the cracks of his clothes, and dirt covered most of his backside. I looked at the body for what felt like an eternity.

I didn’t drop the pipe in her hand until she made herself back inside the house. Closing the door behind me, walking to the kitchen where I once was. I picked up the knife that Tim had pulled out of his arm, placing it in my back pocket.

I looked around the house, an eery silence following me. As glad as I was that he was gone, the loneliness crept behind me. Not that I’d miss that ugly son of a bitch anyways.

My hands darted to the bags that he had left when he departed, quickly going up to them and ripping them open. There wasn’t much for me, Tim was quite a hoarder. He collected unnecessary things. The bag was no different, besides the cans of food and water bottles, the rest was unneeded random objects. Multiple different pans, silverware, and cups. Clothes that would neither fit him nor myself.

I glanced at his backpack that was left on the table, I aggressively grabbed it and looked through it. For whatever reason, he never let me look through it. Something about him sharing everything with me and he deserved privacy. It was laughable considering that he would do monthly checks of the house looking for secret hiding places where I would put my plans of escape.

I completely emptied the bag, object sprawling all over the ground. I rummaged through them, I stopped when I found a piece of jewelry. “Fucking bastard.” I cursed. It was my mom’s, she said one day, it would be mine. Some kind of generation gift I guess.

When I looked further, I found more of my things from so long ago. It was surprising that he kept all these things but wanted me to let go of all of them, even my parents.

I found my old diary, the mp3 player my dad gave me, and a dusty picture of my family that I had kept under my pillow when my parents were still alive. I called him a bunch of insults before picking up what you wanted and packing them into the, once Tim’s, book bag.

Before I started packing my clothes, I passed a mirror and stopped. I inspected myself, my face covered in his blood, my hands still red from the cold pipe outside, and possibly from Tim’s blood.

I rubbed my face, expecting it to come off easily but it had dried faster than I had originally thought. I rubbed more aggressively, eyes tearing up, whispering, “You ruined me.”

To say the things he truly feels

And not the words of one who kneels

The record shows I took the blows

“Tim was a bad man who murdered my parents,” At that the man’s hold on the gun falters, but still stands his ground, “and kidnapped me. I tried to escape, he tried to strangle me, and I killed him with a pipe.” You summarized.

The girl behind the man sighed, “Joel put the gun down, she doesn’t even have a weapon on her.” She tried to convince him.

You made a face, “Actually, there’s a knife in my back pocket.” You said, making them both turn to look at you.

The man, seemingly named Joel, sighed, “Stand up.” You quickly followed his orders. He reached behind you and smoothly grabbed the knife from your pocket, hands brushing over your ass. “Alright, I believe ya. But I saw that guy’s body, I know what you’re capable of. Do you wanna go somewhere else?” He asks, hovering over you for a few seconds after he stopped talking. He took you in before backing away.

“Only if I get to keep the pipe.” You bargained.

Joel scoffed, “Here’s the deal; I’ll keep the pipe safe until we can trust you, 'kay?”

“Deal.”

And did it my way

jesus christ this is so long y’all… hopefully grammarly does me justice bc i’m not reading all of this 😭

#ruined legacy #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us series #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #TLOU #tlou fanfiction #TLOU series #tlou x reader #tlou x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ellie williams

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kanmom51 · 2 years

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Run BTS flying yoga - part 2

Following the cute clips from the episode I thought I’d talk about a few points.

*Disclaimer: this is going to be long and this is the second time I’m writing this (stupid Tumblr lost my post, literally), and I can assure you the second round is not as good as the first one was, my apologies for that.

Why don’t we start with JK’s affinity for butts?

Man sure does like them.

He loves hitting them. And it doesn’t matter who’s either (well, the members as far as we know).

But there is one butt (love the double butting going on there, lol) that he just cannot resist.

And well, you can’t blame him now, can you?

And this has been like forever...

Time after time.

To film, to touch, to hit, to grab, to box, to squeeze.

It’s never enough or too much.

There is more. So much more. You know there is, lol...

And this day, it seems, was no different than others.

Yes, JK couldn’t resist himself and had to run over to hit RM’s butt, lol.

He gave him three slaps and ran off, lol.

That was a cheeky JK that couldn’t let an opportunity go. The leader in a position he is unable to react. That cheeky smile - he loved it.

And then another opportunity presented itself.

JM’s butt right up there in his face.

And what a butt it is.

And Hobi (why is it always Hobi?), he had to goad him on.

So he goes right in for it.

I mean, it was too tempting to let go...

Goes in for at the very least 4 smacks to the butt.

And then you have the editors.

Gotta love the editors. Their captions:

[Hitting with no choice]

Even they understand that when JM’s butt is up like that for display there really is no choice in the matter... 🤣 🤣

But this. This was absolutely the best. Those visual effects. This had me on the floor laughing.

The hand prints. 🤣 🤣

Oh, and do we speak about JM’s face when he comes back up? 🤣 🤣

I didn’t hear any “stop” or “go away” or spinning back up to stop the offense. Nope.

Moving on, as hard, sorry, difficult as it is...

Now, we always attribute the butt hitting to JK. But hey, it’s not exclusive to JK, it kind of goes both ways with those two. JM loves JKs butt just as much.

And he finds his way to it during this episode too, lol.

Yeah, I know that isn’t even close to a butt slap or hold or squeeze or whatever, but give me a break here, there is still a butt involved...

What else did we have then?

We had them messing around.

JK starts and JM just, as naturally as can be, joins in.

It’s just a normal with the two. Their way to spend the time and enjoy themselves together.

It’s just always them.

We also get another example of their like-mindedness.

What else did I notice?

That throughout both episodes them turning to each other, checking up on each other, JK checking out JM, lol.

And now for the Piece de Resistance.

The one for the books.

And once again folks, it’s Hobi being the instigator of it all.

If there was a rating for JKKs 0 to 100, well Hobi, he’s a 10,000.

So, what transpired?

Let’s start with the before....

As the boys were preparing for the pose, JM and the instructor starting to demonstrate it, Suga tell us:

Hobi joins in in agreement.

And the editors, they want to make it clear what the two meant - that the next pose “is a move that a couple does together”.

As all the members finished their poses, but JM, who helped the instructor with the demonstration was left without a partner, Hobi, our no. 1 Jikook fan, Hobi the president of the Jikook fan club, he just comes right out with it: “Jimin and Jungkook do it.” And just incase we didn’t get it, he repeats “Jimin and Jungkook”.

That’s when JM turns to JK, who is already off the hammock and walking in his direction, and saying he wants to do it with him.

Then Hobi repeats it again - that JM and JK will do it.

You know, the couple pose...

Hobi - indeed president of the Jikook fan club.

And of course they were pros.

“Just clicking” - we know that already, don’t we?

Perfectly doing the couple pose.

Of course.

And to end it all we had this...

None of the others did this, nor did either of them do this with their other partners (including JM with the instructor).

Back to the hand holding (substituting to a big ole’ hug I’d say).

#Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #Jimin #JK #JM #Jikook flying yoga #Jikook Run BTS #Jikook Run BTS flying yoga

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devilishlyhandsome123 · 1 year

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They Come Alive at Night pt 2

Here goes my pt 2 since Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all in one spot....

Warning ⚠️: 18+ only, NSFW, supernatural, shape shifter, Daddy Dom, semi non-con, biting, scratching, blood, animalistic and carnal!! 🥵 find your after care in this episode, Buck up and enjoy!!

Refresh to the last sentence if pt 1: your body shakes and heats up as you approach climax....

Chris is pounding into you now, over and over again. You are so close, but cannot find your release.

"I need your release kitten." He begs. "Cum for me please?"

He starts kissing your neck and continuing his assault on your pussy. He runs his hand up your side and rolls your nipple in his fingers, careful not to cut you this time. The added electricity from your nipple to your clit has you falling over the edge hard. Your voice is unrecognizable to you as you scream through your orgasm, moaning and thrashing. Chris holds on to you and follows right after, filling you with his seed.

You both lay there, him still inside you, trying to catch your breath. He raising up on his elbows and you notice that he's back to normal. No more nails, no more pointed ears, no more extra teeth. He has such a beautiful face. You reach up and push a strand of his hair back and run your fingertips down his face.

"I'm so sorry it had to happen this way. As soon as my monster smelled you, I couldn't stop it. I had to have you. I could feel you in my bones."

You just look at him and smile, not able to find words. He kisses your nose and pulls out slowly. You wince, but oddly enough you find the feeling incredibly arousing and moan again. Chris looks at your face trying to read you.

Before you can stop him, he dives into your sex and starts licking you. Your hands shoot into his hair. You are way too sensitive and he has you shaking in a matter of second. You try to clamp your legs together as the orgasm rocks your body, but his hands are strong and holds you down. When you finish he licks you clean.

"You taste so damn good." He rumbles.

He pulls you into his arms and takes you into the bathroom. He runs a warm bath, pulls you in with him, and sits you with your back to his front. His long legs wrap around you and he washes your body for you. Not once does his kisses stop. He kisses your head and your neck and your shoulders. You could get used to this. You both sit in the bath until the water grows cold and then he lifts you out and wraps you in a towel. He even blow drys and combs your hair for you.

"I'll be right back. Get ready for bed." He says.

When Chris leaves the room, you go to the sink to brush your teeth, but you notice a white, almost silver strip of hair amongst your dark brown hair. You are fingering the strand when Chris comes back in, wearing sweat pants. He looks at you and smiles.

"It's from my bite. It's a marking that signals everyone around that you're my mate, my Queen." He walks up to you and runs his fingers through your hair.

You let out a squeak as Chris scoops you up into his arms. He carries you to the bedroom and sets you on the side of the bed. He pulled out a t-shirt and bed shorts for you and helps you get dressed. You notice he stripped the bed and put on new sheets. You are in absolute awe of this man.

He tucks you in and then sits next you, half on the bed.

"I'm gunna go clean up the mess I made in your kitchen. I need you to rest. Do you want me to stay tonight or would you like some time to think everything over? I understand if you need time." Chris looks at you longingly.

You think for a second, but you can't find a reason why he shouldn't stay. You are drawn to him and you really don't want to be alone tonight.

"Can you stay, please? I really don't want to be alone."

"Absolutely. Now, my Queen, close your eyes and rest. I will be right back." He leans down and kisses your forehead before he pads toward the kitchen.

You drift in and out, listening to him cleaning and humming. Then you feel the bed dip and Chris pulls you into his body. He is so much bigger than you, so when he wraps himself around you, it feels like a warm cocoon. You wiggle a bit into him and he giggles. It doesn't take long before you both fall into a peaceful sleep.

#chris motionless x reader #chris motionless #halloween #smut #dark and dirty #dark romance #its all about that aftercare #18+ content #carnal #supernatural

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wixed · 2 months

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Temptations of Circuits and Sin

CW: Blood/Gore, Torture, Medical Torture, Medical Experimentation, Drugged Torture, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Religious Zealotry, Ingesting Body Fluids (Blood), Cannibalism, Loss of Agency, Durge Episode, Clawing/Scratching, Grinding, Choking, Dom/Sub

Pairing: OC!Durge x Gortash

Word Count: 5221 Ao3 Link Part 2

Part 1

◤──•~ ҉ The Dark Urge ҉ ~•──◥

The meeting between the Chosen drew laboriously on. The bhaalspawn could feel the urge in the back of their mind twitch at the banality of the current discussion.

War plans, invasions, political scheming - it all felt like needless pomp.

Each chime from the grandiose, overly mechanical clock rang through their ears like a shrill laugh. Mocking the Murder Lord’s chosen. Bound by the drivel of civility. Chained to this table like a sacrifice at an altar, for a ritual they cannot comprehend and care little for. Only instead of being cut and splayed, they were forced into an agreeable nature. It made them want to split their own skull to pierce through the dull ache of boredom.

Another melodious chime tore through the room. They slammed their dagger into the wooden table, bringing whatever conversation they had long since drowned out to an abrupt halt.

“Do you have something you wish to bring to the table, Assassin? Other than more scuffs and scrapes?" Gortash’s question was meant to rile them. Shame them for their outburst as if the Tyrant held such power over them.

"I do not see why I must be here for the Moonrise invasion plans. They have little to do with my part in this.” They tried to cow the petulant tone in their voice.

Gortash smiled with a seductive ease. The sight of it sent a lash to the bhaalspawn’s core. They turned their head with a dissatisfied grunt.

“We simply want to ensure you understand and are kept in the loop. If you do not wish to be here any longer, by all means, you may leave." The Tyrant’s words caused a roaring heat to roll over in their belly.

"Good. I have a complicated series of staged ritualistic murders to plan. These meetings are a waste of my time and talent.” They lifted the dagger from where it still dug upright into the table. They deftly twirled the blade as they sheathed it. Gortash gave a wry, crooked smile.

"Well then, it sounds like you have your work cut out for you, Chosen." His words dripped with coy superiority.

The bhaalspawn scowled as they left the war room, the doors slamming shut behind them. As they left the confines of Wyrm’s Rock, they could feel the eyes of prey upon them. It made their blood itch. How dare such pathetic creatures use such weak eyes to observe their visage? Their body surged with a murder-lust their Father demanded of them. Their focus flicked from patron to patron, momentarily stopping on a beggar woman who seemed sickly.

Normally, they avoided such frail offerings for their Father. The god of disease already claimed this soul, but it would suffice for the practice and planning of the staged rituals.

—

Luring the beggar back to the abandoned house they used for such practices was easy. The house was a secret place for sacrifices that would defile their Father-God's sacred temple. This blood would not spill in the name of Bhaal. It would not be clean and freely flow from the lash of their blade. There would be no praising cuts to adorn the body before Bhaal claimed it. It did not deserve the temple.

They gave the woman a meal and medicine to ease her fever. It would be no good for study if the brain was cooked from illness. She cried in supplication at the feet of her would-be savior. The Chosen did not move from their seat. They looked on with deliberating patience, waiting for the sleeping drug to take hold of the peasant.

A few moments later, her feeble body slumped in her chair, and her breathing slowed to a dangerous pace. The bhaalspawn lifted the unconscious body with ease, opening a hidden latch in the floorboards and taking her to the secret basement below. They tied their unwitting project to a medical table stained with blood from overuse. Save for the stains, the table was remarkably clean.

In fact, the entire space was neatly organized and relatively clean for what one might expect from a Chosen of Bhaal. Shelves held books and scrolls at one end of the room, and another was full of varied herbs, toxins, and alchemical supplies.

They picked up a small razor, sharp yet delicate, and shaved the head of all hair, removing anything that could impede sight and compromise the precision of their cuts. They began to split the skin of the woman at the crown of the skull. She was too far gone in the drug to do more than twitch out of instinct, eyelids barely fluttering at the glide of the blade across her skin. They carefully sliced around the crown, blood dripping down the twitching face. With a slow ease, they peeled back the skin, pinning it out of the way.

They licked the blade clean with a satisfied hum, then set it down. Grabbing another larger knife with unique serrations, they growled a noise of frustrated contemplation. They hovered over the exposed skull, steadying their erratic breath.

They felt a sudden spur of pain cut through their body. Father did not approve of their hesitation. He misunderstood - they did not hesitate out of guilt or some other weak foreign emotion. They hesitated out of pride. Their cuts were divine prayer, the mutilated bodies at their hand a providence. Though this meat was unfit for the temple, they were still a priest and must act under their holy creed. Sloppy would not suffice.

Once their breath drew steady and their heart beat in rhythm with the world around them, the serrated blade started to work on the skull. They finessed away a small piece of bone. exposing the brain. They felt their lips twitch with excitement at the sight. Their hands shook over the enticing organic matter. With a sharp inhale, they placed the blade neatly adjacent to the small razor.

They gathered a few small vials of liquid from a shelf. The liquids consisted mostly of poisons and some acids of varying strength. They mused over which to try first, eventually deciding on a common nerve poison. They slowly added a drop to the exposed brain and waited for the poison to take hold. A few moments later the body violently seized against the table. The loud rattling of their bones hitting wood echoed through the room with gasping strained breathing. The body continued to convulse until the limbs froze, contorted joints locking in place.

Seeing the body dance for them enthralled the bhaalspawn, a small smile forming at the corner of their lips, showing the sharpened teeth beneath. They grabbed a vial of acid and carefully but excitedly poured a drop into the cranial cavity. The body twitched but had very little response. The Chosen glared at the defiant meatsack. They took a syringe and drew up some of the acid, injecting it into the internal jugular vein.

The process was slow, but eventually, the cuts started to ooze once again. The urge inside them stirred at the smell of the sanguine nectar. Despite it being poisoned and diseased, their bloodlust craved the carnage. When it became evident the acid would not have the desired effect, they stood and reached for another toxin. Their deliberation was cut short by the body experiencing another violent series of convulsions, breathing rapidly increasing. Bloody foam gathered around the mouth.

The bhaalspawn cursed. They tried to keep the wretched thing from choking on her bile and spittle, but it was too late. The chest sank as her limbs went rigid, still bent from the nerve poison. In frustration, the bhaalspawn slashed the throat of the beggar and drove the blade into her heart.

They unlatched the body from the table and tossed it aside, sighing at their experiment cut short. They bent over the table, their face a mere hair’s breadth away from the pooled blood left there. They closed their eyes and languidly inhaled deep and slow. The iron aroma of the crimson called to them. They slowly dipped their tongue into the pool and licked a long stripe up the table, clenching the table so tight their sharp fingernails left indentations. Suddenly, a vision invaded their mind.

They imagined licking a body, warm and supple under their touch, blood flowing from the cuts drawn by their blade. Their tongue traveled up the collarbone to the neck. They pulled back to gaze upon the face of their prey, and instead of seeing lifeless eyes from a sacrifice, they saw his face. The Tyrant looking back at them with his smug smile shocked them out of the daydream.

They shot up from the table with sudden alertness, eyes wide and darting about the room. Disgust roiled in their core, their heartbeat once again thrumming wildly. Once the panic of the uninvited vision left, they glowered in still silence.

“Sceleritas!” they broke the quiet, summoning their faithful servant. The imp appeared with a pop of sulfurous smoke.

“Yes, my Liege?” He bowed to his master.

“Take this body to the ruins outside the temple. Make use of it.”

“As you command, my Dark Master.” Another deep bow. He took hold of the corpse and snapped his fingers, taking the body with him in another swirl of infernal smoke.

Once Sceleritas vanished, they cleaned the remainder of the spilled viscera. They tried to push thoughts of Bane’s Chosen from their mind. They soon left the abandoned house. Their body still ached with the need for bloodshed, proper bloodshed. They needed to still their mind in prayer. Their Father would make all things clear. Cleanse the weakness from them as they cleanse this world of vitality. They had several sacrifices awaiting them in the temple, ready to be made holy for their Father.

They stalked to the sewer entrance leading to the temple ruins, so distracted by the events of the last few hours they didn’t notice the lowly Banite who had been following them since the meeting.

◤──•~✧Enver Gortash✧~•──◥

Enver paced his foundry workshop. The metal clack of the cane hitting the stone floor was the only sound among the hissing steam vents until there was a knock at the door.

“Enter.” He cooly called out. The Banite sent to tail Bhaal’s Chosen returned from their mission.

“Sir.” The soldier stood at attention with a small bow of his head. Enver waved his hand dismissively.

“At ease. I assume you were successful? Tell me what you found.” He sat in the plush chair at a writing desk, hand still atop his cane.

“Yes sir, I tracked them to a decrepit house in the Lower City. They brought a peasant beggar with them but left alone, with no additional baggage or body. They took to the sewers after.” the Banite reported. Enver brushed his metal-clad thumb over his lips while humming a thought.

“And how long were they in the house?”

“A few hours, my lord.”

“Very well, leave the address for me. You are dismissed.” Enver passed the soldier a piece of blank parchment and a quill. The man did as he was commanded and took his leave.

Enver sat staring at the address for moments that turned to minutes until he tapped his cane against the stone, standing and moving to the mobile teaching-board covered with schematics and architectural drawings. He pinned the address to the board next to sketches of an automaton design. A low hum echoed from his chest to his throat.

“Interesting.”

—

Half a tenday came and went since Enver first had the Bhaalist followed. Each day since, he commanded his most skilled rogues to continue tracking and observing the curious bhaalspawn. Always the same report; They lure a lowly peasant, usually sick or diseased, they go to the abandoned house, hours pass, and they leave.

Enver never gave much thought to the daily routines of Bhaal worshipers, or his blood-spawn, but his mind kept wandering back to them. It was a near hyperfixation if he was being honest with himself. He told himself several times over the past few days that the Chosen was likely doing their duty assigned to them, simple as that. And yet, he couldn’t shake that there was more to it than that. More to them.

He found himself staring out a large arched window, the main source of light for his office at this time of day. He couldn’t see the house from his lofty tower, but he knew the direction all the same. His thoughts swarming and swirling like rats caught in a current.

“Lord Gortash.” The servant startled him from his troubling fixation. He scowled at being caught unaware.

“Yes? What is it?” his voice low and threatening.

“They’ve taken more to the house. This time several at once, a count of four peasants, sir.” The servant dutifully reported. Enver stood pensive for a moment before grabbing his elaborately embroidered overcoat.

“Thank you. Dismissed.” he waved a hand at the cowering servant, then left.

◤──•~ ҉ The Dark Urge ҉ ~•──◥

Days upon days of failure weighed heavy on the bhaalspawn. Failure to their Father, failure to their mission, failure to their urges.

They attempted concoction after concoction of poisons, toxins, and acids to no avail. The resulting deaths didn’t look right, wasn’t what they needed. The nerves would seize, but that was the only success. The poisons extracted from mushrooms would cause too much distress to the stomach, the poisons harvested from a particularly nasty insect resulted in too much swelling, and the toxic oils from dangerous plants caused uncontrollable and unpredictable rashes. They were at their wit's end. They chuckled a helpless, deranged laugh at the thought of having any wits left.

This obsession all but consumed their every waking moment. They had fallen behind in prayer, in their holy duty to the Temple, and their Father took notice. They were sure a punishment wasn’t far off. In desperation, they decided to lure a larger group tonight. They wouldn’t stop until they got it right, even if it took till morning.

They weren’t sure why this riddle had become so important to them. A flash of Gortash’s face flitted across their mind, and they growled under their breath. Perhaps it was simple competitive nature that made them so crazed for this answer, but the flutter of something in their core prevented them from fully accepting such a contrite explanation.

They strapped three of the half-unconscious bodies to chains hanging from the walls while the remaining one got the table. They stroked the face of the plump sacrifice laid flat on their altar, an altar to understanding rather than butchery.

“You are lucky. You get the comfortable seat.” Their sharpened nails dug into the skin a little too deep, drawing blood from the rosy apple cheek. They smiled with deranged glee, sharpened teeth flashing across their face as the smell of blood filled their nostrils. They breathed it in like the air would run out of the room. They blinked their eyes quickly, attempting to banish the crimson haze taking over.

“No, no, no, Father, please. Not now. Please I b-… I beg, Father, please!” They gripped the shoulders of the victim on the table tightly, bloodied claws digging in for purchase. But it was too late. Their sanity had left them, their Father-God demanding control over the bhaalspawn’s bloodlust. With a shrill manic cry, they clutched their head. Their body twitched through feral screams as they began to slice the warm and waiting flesh before them.

◤──•~✧Enver Gortash✧~•──◥

Enver didn’t relish in sneaking through the city, his city, but he could manage it when the occasion called for it. He quietly waited outside the entrance of the old house. A few glances about the area told him that if anyone was watching him, they likely wouldn’t care.

He slipped into the house with ease. Old dressers and empty crates filled the room. He cautiously looked about the dwelling, growing frustrated in thinking he had the wrong house, but then saw a curious set of marks behind some crates. Upon inspection, he found the hidden entrance to the basement. He paused at the open hatch, he knew it was a risk, but something was gnawing at the back of his mind. He inhaled a short, decisive breath and descended the ladder.

When he made contact with the ground, he found himself in a makeshift foyer that seemed to spill into a larger room. He slipped behind a crate against a wall, watching the scene escalate before him.

The bhaalspawn had finished chaining three people to a wall. An older woman who suffered from a cough wearing a washer woman’s apron with an embroidered monogram - a servant to a high house. A young man who seemed healthy with tanned, broad shoulders - a stable hand or farmer perhaps? And a young woman who seemed too thin but otherwise seemed healthy, based on the finer clothing, likely a brothel worker, a low-end brothel at that if she couldn’t be fed properly. The Assassin leaned over their fourth victim, a rotund man strapped to a table whose ankles and feet were puffy and swollen, a spoiled merchant, no doubt.

Enver’s eyes danced around the room, he saw bookshelves, what appeared to be medicine cabinets, an alchemy station, a writing desk-

Before he could finish assessing the room the bhaalspawn began to mutter with a desperate tone. They were pleading. Enver’s brows knit together in confusion as he continued to watch from his dangerous vantage point. With a wail, the bhaalspawn lashed out at the body on the table. They sounded like an animal, their cries of desperation mixed with feral guttural noises.

When they finished eviscerating the man on the table, they moved to the chained bodies. The young, healthy man unfortunately looked as though whatever drug they had given him had worn off. Enver watched the crazed Chosen tear into him as he cried for mercy, eventually choking on his blood. The wet bubbling of the choking drowned out his pained screaming until his eyes went dull and his head hung limp.

They moved to the other victims with erratic speed. Slashing, biting, ripping, and tearing flesh away. They were covered in viscera - entrails hanging from their arms, bits of skin caught on their blade-like nails, blood soaking through their clothing and hair. Enver couldn’t help but feel a fascination at the consuming nature of this “urge”. He still readied a dagger just in case.

It was several minutes before the bhaalspawn seemed to come to themselves. They had been in the middle of sawing off the wrist of the man on the table, or what was left of him, at least. They dropped the bone saw, standing still like a crimson statue.

Enver was even more shocked at what he saw next. They fell to their knees and started to sob. Deep heaving sobs while they quietly uttered a prayer of apology over and over to their father. He thought of revealing himself but decided to give it some more time and distance between the vulnerable state they were in and his unwanted appearance.

◤──•~ ҉ The Dark Urge ҉ ~•──◥

Blood and meat covered the bhaalspawn like a blanket. A blanket that was once warm and comforting but turned to an overwhelming heat. They could feel the pieces of flesh under their nails as the blood dried and cracked on their skin. The taste of iron lingered in their mouth as they swiped their tongue across their teeth.

They slowly forced their body up from the floor and began cleaning the mess. They unlatched the sabotaged experiments from the wall, the remainants piling on the ground. They pushed the brutalized meat on the table into the pile, joining the others in a homogenized mixture of carrion and sinew.

They stared at the writing desk where notes had laid open, in process studies strewn across the surface, now covered in blood. If they weren’t ruined, it would take days to transcribe it all. They sighed and it turned into a low dissatisfied growl. This was their punishment. More than losing their mind, more than the red haze taking over their body, this - their fascination with the mortal body and interest in discovering its secrets, destroying the lucid days of study devoted to it. That is why they suffered their Father’s lash.

They suffered the lash of Bhaal and still learned nothing. The wresting of control did not deter them. It was a momentary hiccup. Their Father didn’t understand, same as every other soul who knew of their interests. They needed to understand the mortal body to better utilize the meat sacks for their Father’s purpose. It was a half-lie they told themself on repeat. A lie they told themself now as they gently dabbed the sweet red juices from the ruined pages.

“Ahem”

They drew their knife and threw another barely missing the intruder as he cleared his throat behind them. Their eyes widened in shock, then quickly narrowed in anger when Gortash’s visage became clear.

“What are you doing here?” they spat out. “Get out, now.” They didn’t raise their voice, but the demand was laced with venomous unsaid threats of what defying it would mean for the Tyrant.

Gortash pulled the dagger from the wall behind him. He wore an easy, almost cocky smile as he stepped closer to the bhaalspawn, handing them the dagger hilt first.

“I had a gnawing feeling you were in need of aid, and it seems I may be correct.” He sounded confident, all of his usual charm edging through his words. The sound of his voice was enough to ground the bhaalspawn and they hated it.

“That is very presumptuous of you, Tyrant.” They grabbed the dagger, resheathing it in a quick fluid motion. They eyed him wearily like one predator sizing up another. They felt the saliva catch in their throat the longer they took him in. An irritated grunt left their lips without permission and they tore their eyes away from him.

He gave a small chuckle at their annoyance. “I know we come from very different… backgrounds, but I feel as though we share something in common.” He ran a finger over one of the shelves holding the alchemy supplies. They studied him closely, waiting for the reveal of his observation.

Gortash smiled at them, causing their heart to pick up pace. “We have brilliant minds, you and I.” He walked to the viscera-covered bookshelves. “Minds that many underestimate, devalue, and would leave to rot.” He candidly kicked some entrails out of his path, circling the bhaalspawn like a vulture. The Bhaalist stood unmoving but watched Gortash as he moved about their study, eyes never leaving him, and their hand never leaving the hilt of their blade.

“I always knew you were capable. Retrieving the Crown from the Hells proved that much. However, your brilliance, your intellect, it’s something that slipped through my notice, until recently.” He picked up one of the books and flipped to a clean page. It showed sketches of the mortal body and notes about the brain specifically.

One part of them wanted to snatch the book away and drive their dagger through his haughty, overly confident heart. Another part was frozen, treading unfamiliar territory. The Tyrant was praising them for their revolting interests. He seemed intrigued by it rather than put off. This alone was enough to allow him more of the floor in their conversation.

He shut the book, setting it down again. “I believe I can help you. If you’ll let me.”

He waited for their answer. The assassin thought through the offer carefully. This dilemma was the result of their shared plans. It wasn’t strictly Bhaalist business. They took in the sight of the half-cleaned study and failed experiments decorating their shameful, secret dwelling. Their mind raced through all the possible ways the Banite could use this against them, all the ways he could betray them, all the ways he could leverage the aid he seemingly freely offered. They sighed in exasperation.

“Fine.”

—

The two chosen spent hours together. Gortash seemed barely bothered, if at all, by the remaining gore that lay about the room. Eventually, the bhaalspawn called for their faithful butler to clean the mutilated bodies, ordering him to repurpose what he could. Waste not, want not.

They detailed their idea for the staged murders. The rituals had to appear of The Absolute, not of Bhaal, so their usual methods wouldn’t suffice. They decided that a “god” who communicates and works through telepathy would use the same means to kill. This Absolute would want sacrifices that gave the brain of the victim to the “god”.

“This already aligns with how weak brains reject the tadpole, when the infection is too much.-”

“The brain hemorrhages. Brilliant.” Gortash grinned with excitement. The bhaalspawn felt a renewed vigor for their ideas. Just having one person share in the thrill of puzzling through it set their blood aflame in a way they hadn’t felt before.

“I also thought so.” A smug smile flashed across their face. They pulled out their most recent notes on the varied toxins and poisons they’ve attempted to mimic a hemorrhage.

“The part I am …stumbling over is making the brain bleed look divinely spontaneous, no evidence of blunt force trauma, or piercing pokers can be left behind. I was hoping a potent poison could achieve this. I have found a toxin that results in a very fitting secondary symptom, but haven’t had much luck with the star of the show.” They showed the combinations and the results to Gortash as best they could through the blood stains.

Gortash reviewed the summary of experiments in earnest. A few moments of silence passed as he read. The bhaalspawn watched his fingers, dressed in the gold of his gauntlet flip through the pages of their notes. They analyzed the way he deliberately and delicately at the same time manipulated the frail pages. Their body felt a jolt of something shoot from the base of their spine to the neck. Like lightning had found its way into their spinal fluid. Their fingers twitched from the feeling.

The Tyrant made a reserved but triumphant exclamation. “I think I’ve got it.” He snapped the book shut with one hand, offering it to them. The assassin lurched forward to grab it, excitement written over their face.

“What? What is it? Out with it, Tyrant.” Their words might have been demanding, but their tone was anxious and supplicant. Gortash grinned with the power he held over them.

“Patience, dear Assassin.” He inspected the bottles of poisons and toxins that were all meticulously labeled. He picked one at the back, labeled “Rat Poison.”

“This is what you’re looking for.” He handed the bottle to them. They glanced at the bottle in their hand.

“I’ve already tried this, it causes hemorrhaging, but it’s of the gut.” The delight in their eyes faded. The Tyrant clicked his tongue in a chiding manner and lifted their chin with one sharp golden finger. They should slice the finger from his hand, they should spill his entrails on the floor before them for daring to touch Bhaal’s Chosen. They’ve done worse for less. Their eye twitched at the touch, and their body tensed in anticipation, but they held still, glaring up at him through what little restraint they possessed.

“You didn’t let me finish.” He dropped his finger from their chin, and their body immediately relaxed.

“We adjust the dose, pair it with the toxin you already have for the seizures, then apply it to the barrier between the brain and-”

“The blood-brain barrier! Of course! Gods, how could I not see it? We need to induce a stroke, so stressing the blood vessels locally would cause mass bursting - this is ingenious. We’ll need a binding agent and a few tweaks to the base solution to ensure the seizure toxin won’t be affected. Get the two working synergistically rather than-”

Their rambling was cut short by Gortash pressing his lips to theirs. Their words caught between the joined lips. They made a muffled noise of displeasure and pushed him at an arm’s distance.

“How dare you?!” They gasped for breath, their pulse unstable, causing their words to lose footing. Gortash smiled a wry grin. He saw through their veiled disgust. Knew their strained words for what they were. An attempt to do what they should. Attempts to cow their obvious desires. He chewed on his bottom lip as he shifted closer again, finding little resistance from the hands against his chest.

“By all means, Assassin, tell me to stop.” He pushed even closer. The bhaalspawn was pressed up against the table behind them, their hands finding the surface, attempting to steady their stance. Their piercing glare focused from his eyes to his lips. A low growl under their breath was their only response. Gortash closed the gap between them, his thigh pressing against their groin. He leaned in close, his breath hot and prickling against their skin. In a low husky voice, he continued.

“Say you don't want this, and I won't give it." He rubbed his leg enticingly against them, the friction sending heat coiling tight in their core. They didn't stop him.

Gortash captured their lips in his once more. They returned the kiss this time, needy and all-consuming. Growls of frustrated pleasure escaped them as they writhed against his thigh, causing the Tyrant to groan with delighted satisfaction.

The bhaalspawn moved their hands to his chest and drew their nails down the exposed skin. Gortash parted from their lips with a moan. Blood trickled from the scratches and they went to lick it up, fulfilling the fantasy that had plagued them.

The blood was sweeter than anything they'd tasted. It filled their senses with a different haze. They purred at the euphoric thrill of it all. They nipped at his neck and kissed at the vein they could feel pulsing under his skin.

His hand gripped the bhaalspawn's throat. He applied pressure to the sides as he pulled their face away from his skin. They grimaced with a whimper. They felt pathetic, yet the shame melted away with the intoxicating pressure on their neck.

“What did I say before, Assassin? Patience." He moved his grip to their jaw, positioning their face to look at him. He planted one last claiming kiss on the bhaalspawn. When they parted, he brushed his thumb over their wanting lips. He gave a small, satisfied chuckle before dropping his hand. He moved back to the ladder's base, glancing back at the wanton creature.

"Find me in my workshop, tomorrow. You can repay the favor by helping me with a problem in turn. Quid pro quo.” He smiled a devilishly coy smile. “Tonight, you have a breakthrough to document."

He left them reeling in their twisted lust and anger. The two emotions mixed terribly at first but settled out like an acid mixing with base, creating a neutral feeling as the pounding in their chest calmed and quieted. They finally let the death grip they had on the table relax.

They pulled a blank sheet of parchment and scrawled desperate prayers.

‘Forgive me, Father…’

Part 2

This was supposed to be a smut oneshot - a self-indulgent Durgetash deranged smut-fest. BUT I guess we're here now.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #Durge x Gortash #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #Dark Urge #dark romance #cw blood #cw torture #cw violence #cw medical #cw religious themes

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