#'it's not that deep' 'that's not what the author intended so shut up' etc etc. snore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

x-x-just-a-little-witchyy-x-x · 3 years

Text

Circle Casting

Circle-casting is one of the foundational skills of Wicca and witchcraft. Often, it’s one of the first things that newbies learn to do as part of their training.

But circle-casting is a complex idea, even though the techniques are rather simple. Whether you’re casting a circle for the first time or thousandth time, it never hurts to think about what, exactly, you’re doing and why. In this article, we’ll get “back to basics” on circle-castings, and also consider some of the finer points of building the Witch’s circle.

What is circle-casting?

Circle-casting refers to the practice of setting up a temporary space for magick or ritual. It is, by definition, round. Circle-casting is a term that’s most commonly used in Wiccan traditions, but other magick users may cast circles, as well. The magick circle is a mobile temple, a place apart from the ordinary world where magickal happenings can more easily occur.

Generally speaking, the circle is put up at the beginning of the rite by the leading priest and/or priestess. Solo practitioners cast circles, too. At the end of the ritual, the circle is released. (More on that later.)

A circle is a psychic boundary. You can’t see it with your normal five senses. However, a properly cast circle is detectable energetically and/or clairvoyantly by someone who has those skills. The magick circle is said to extend through the worlds—not just the physical plane, but the astral planes as well.

Why cast a circle?

There all kinds of factors that can interfere with ritual magick: Distractions from the mundane world, the contrary wills of others, chaotic entities that feed off the Witch's efforts, just to name a few. Casting a circle is one way to shut out disruptive influences and stay focused on the work. Magickal trance can be a psychically vulnerable state, so many Witches cast the circle with psychic protection in mind.

Just as important as the circle’s outer barrier is its inner one. Magickal energy—like all energy that we know about—tends to bounce around and scatter off into the Universe. Motion is its natural habit. The whole point of ritual is to concentrate some of that energy temporarily, for a purpose. A circle allows you to gather more energy up and hold onto it longer. If your work involves the evocation of spirits or deities, a well-built circle offers them a cozy place to land for the duration of the rite.

We can summarize all this by saying a magick circle has two main purposes: To keep disturbances out, and to keep the energy of the ritual in. This is certainly a vast oversimplification. So we’ll do it one worse and say the circle is a tool to make your magick stronger.

I’ve heard the circle described as a vessel, a workbench, a fence, a welcome mat, a spaceship, a gate, a bubble, and many other metaphors. Like the story of the blind men and the elephant, all of these words describe something about the circle, without really being a complete explanation of what it is.

How do you cast a circle?

There are simple and complex ways to cast a circle (and all points in between). You can cast a circle with tools or without, either aloud or silently. All methods of circle-casting require concentration or visualization, and a commitment to the belief that the circle is real.

A traditional circle has four cardinal points, set equidistant around the circle’s circumference. They are linked to the four directions, the four Elements, and the Wiccan seasonal calendar. I think of the Quarters as ancient intelligences that appear in many of the world's religions. If you prefer, you can think of them as tent poles that balance the circle’s shape and energy.

These are all common practices in circle-casting: Visualizing the boundaries of the circle, walking the circumference of the circle, cutting a barrier with a knife or sword, calling the Quarters, lighting candles, placing objects around the edge of the circle, ritual cleansing of the space inside. Your casting may use a few of these elements, or all of them.

The following is an example of a very simple circle-casting technique: Visualize a ring of light at the edges of your ritual space. The light burns and purifies the space within the circle. Take some deep breaths, and focus on the pulse of energy within your body. Feel the heat and light of your own energy expand with every exhalation. That light also has a fiery, purifying effect on the space between you and the circle. When you feel the warm edges of your own energy reach that boundary of the circle, clap your hands together and say, “As I will, the circle is cast.”

Some people prefer to cast the circle with the aid of various tools: The athame, a length of cord, stones or candles for each of the quarters. These items can be very helpful in setting up the boundaries of the circle.

The larger and more public the ritual, the more tools tend to be used, since attendees may not be accustomed to the ins and outs of circle-casting. Large public circles often use multiple callers, altars at the Quarters, chants and written evocations to help make the circle more visible.

There is no method that is better than the others. The strength of the circle will depend on the will of the participants and other factors (such as the psychic geography of the place where the circle is cast).

Is circle-casting necessary for magick?

No, certainly not. The magick circle is not used in every tradition. Norse, Kemetic (Egyptian), and many shamanic and folk magick practitioners work just fine without one. Circle-casting is a useful technology, not a hard-and-fast rule.

The Witch’s magick circle is a legacy from the grimoires of Western ceremonial magick, what is sometimes called Solomonic magick. Its original purpose was to protect the conjuror from demons and fallen angels, and to assert the authority of God over such rebellious spirits. This commanding, adversarial approach to magick is now out of step with how many magicians view their relationship with the spiritual world.

Among Wiccans and others who do cast circles, most will say that not every act of magick requires a full-blown circle-casting. Meditation and devotional practices (such as giving offerings) often take place outside of the formal circle. Experienced Witches may choose to cast a circle only when they feel they need the extra protection and focus.

Can a circle cast itself? This is a fascinating topic! While circle-casting is far from universal, the concept of the aura, or energetic field around the body, has traction within many more spiritual paths. Many people have observed or felt this permeable barrier of energy. If you think of the magick circle as an extension of the aura, circle-casting becomes a lot less Wicca-specific.

When working magick with others outside of a formal circle, I’ve sometimes noticed the collected energy take on a circle-like shape. (Or a blob, at least). Other have commented on this phenomenon, too. It may be that the magick circle is something that forms spontaneously as the energy of the participants knits itself together.

How large should the circle be? What shape?

Nine feet in diameter is the traditional size for the Wiccan circle. Nine, or three times three, is an important number in Wicca. The customary nine-foot ritual cord, folded in half, is anchored in the center and walked around to trace out the circle’s edge. The resulting circle will be just over 27 feet in circumference.

The nine-foot circle is not a commandment, just a suggestion. Feel free to tailor your circle to your needs and the available space.

How small is too small? The circle should be large enough to completely contain the Witch and his or her ritual items. You don’t want to accidentally penetrate the edges of the circle while gesturing or reaching during ritual. For group rituals, you want to leave enough space for people to maintain a comfortable distance from each other. (If that is in fact the goal…no judgement here.)

If you’re working in a bedroom or other small space, the nine-foot circle may not be practical. Cast a circle that fits the space. It’s better to have a circle that’s small and round, rather than a larger one with boundaries that extend through walls, furniture, etc. Ideally, the circle should include the altar (if there is one), ritual tools and nothing else—no other items that could pose a hazard or distraction during the ritual.

Theoretically, there’s no upper limit to the size of a magick circle. But smaller is often better. I’ve worked with groups that cast circles to the edge of a building or field to miminize the disruption from people wandering in or out. These circles are not very round, and they don’t have sharp boundaries. They tend to dissolve well before the ritual is over. Smaller, tighter circles are just easier to visualize and maintain.

Now that we’ve covered circle size, here’s a few words about shape. A lot of people visualize the cast circle as a ring of energy laying on the ground like a hula hoop. Some people visualize it as a vertical tube (or stack of circles) standing up like a paper towel roll. Some people visualize it as a sphere, extending into the ground and up overhead. Some go with a cone, with the circle at its base. That’s all fine. It’s really up to you and how many dimensions of visualization you’re comfortable with.

Circles are made of energy, and there are subtlely different energetic functions to each of these shapes. As you grow more experienced with circle magick, you may find that some shapes are better than others for certain tasks. If you’re working with a group, make sure you’re on the same page, shape-wise.

However, don’t worry about the people who say that a simple two-dimensional circle is inferior or ineffective or dangerous. That’s just wankery. Fundamentally, it’s always intention that matters. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that nobody’s ever died because their ritual circle didn’t have a lid on top. If you intend your circle to be impenetrable and set it up that way, no baddies are going to be hopping the fence like goats in a garden…trust me.

What does being in circle feel like?

Being in a really solid circle is a bit like having an orgasm. You can read about it and get some ideas…but when you have one, you’ll know.

People experience all different kinds of sensations while standing within a ritual circle. Heightened sensations of energy and a distorted sense of time are common. Words, images, and objects within the circle may take on special significance. The boundaries of the circle can feel quite strange—giving off heat, resistance, or a tingling feeling when you approach them. It’s also normal for objects beyond the boundary of the circle to appear hazy or out-of-focus.

Here are some notes about standing inside magickal circles:

Being in circle is like having a lucid dream. It feels real and not-real at the same time.

Being in circle is like being wrapped up in a blanket that smells like you.

Being in circle is like being in an airplane cabin with the pressure turned up too high.

Being in circle is like being very tall and still with your feet deep in the ground and your head among the star.

Being in circle is like looking at an alien planet through frosted glass.

Being in circle is like being able to move while the rest of the world is frozen.

How do you take down a circle?

When the ritual has ended, it’s time for the circle to be taken down. Some Witches call this “opening” the circle, while some call it “closing” the circle. Both phrases mean basically the same thing. The language can be confusing, so I usually seek out other words to describe the dissolution of a magick circle.

Releasing the circle allows the energies contained to dissipate, and the room or patch of ground to return to its pre-ritual state. There are many techniques that can be used to help the energy to disperse, such as ringing a bell or visualizing the walls of the circle dissolving. Gathering ritual tools and putting them away also helps scatter any lingering energy. The sensation of taking down a circle can vary in intensity, from a slow fade to a dramatic rush as the circle collapses back into the aether.

If a formal circle has been cast, formally un-casting it is good form. Often this means following the circle-casting ritual in reverse. For example, say the circle was cast by walking the circumference clockwise, then calling the Quarters, then lighting a candle on the central altar. You could un-cast it by blowing out the candle, releasing the Quarters in reverse order, and finally by walking the circumference counter-clockwise. Ideally, the person or persons who cast the circle should be in charge of taking it down. (If necessary, another person can take over.)

What if you fail to properly shut down the magick circle? It will eventually fade away on its own, usually within minutes or hours. Ley lines, water features, and heavy foot traffic are some of the things that can cause the circle to fade away faster. Temple furnishings, buried crystal or metal deposits, and regular use of an area can slow the dissipation of the circle’s structure. Using a pendulum or dowsing rods can help you detect the presence of lingering energy in a ritual space.

The cast circle is never more than a temporary psychic construction. However, leaving an unattended circle is a weak coda to your magickal working. It also can leave an open portal through which unwanted entities can travel. For best results, always pack up your circle when you’re done.

Information found on: https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/circle-casting-basics-all-you-need-to-know-about-magick-circles

#witchblr #my research #circle casting

74 notes · View notes

gallickingun · 4 years

Text

welded hearts || b.k.

SUMMARY: You and Bakugou have to try and pick up the pieces after the incident with Awase, but neither of you are doing a very good job. It leads to distance and lies, and you’re not sure if there’s any way to save the fragments that remain of your shattered relationship. Especially when you find out that Bakugou has been tracking your every move.

Follows the events of Ensnare, an Awase x Reader x Bakugou fic written by @lady-bakuhoe.

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 11.7k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

AUTHOR’S NOTE: after reading Jo’s fic, I immediately rushed to her inbox to foam at the mouth about what kind of angst would follow when Bakugou and Reader attempt to put back together what is left of their relationship, with Bakugou really not feeling like a man, and reader feeling absolutely suffocated, and this little fic was born. Also, this is my first time not tagging any blogs, I just need to start fresh. I hope everyone understands!

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

The strange combination of distance and suffocation make your head spin.

Nightmares plague your mind at night, leaving the opportunity for visions to run rampant through your sleep-deprived brain during the day. You spend the daylight hours looking over your shoulder, your forehead broken out into a constant sweat, and you spend the evenings wondering if you might have imagined the whole thing.

You wake up alone most of the time, no matter what phase of the night you are suffering through. The first few times you would go searching the house for him, wondering where his overactive body could have taken him this time. Most nights you found him at the kitchen table going over suit designs and contracts for more hero patrols and brand deals.

You’d ask him when he was coming back to bed only for those familiar vermilion eyes to pass you a blank stare and his dry voice to echo out, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to bed.”

And each night you’d listen.

You curl up beneath the covers, tugging the fabric to your chin, and stare at the wall. You attempt breathing exercises and grounding techniques, but that does not stop the shadowy figures you see in the hallway or the closet. Your imagination gets the better of you as it hallucinates the image of the culprit himself stood in your bathroom doorway, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“So fucking pretty,” his mouth snarls around the words, dark hair shining despite the dark. His teeth are pearlescent even in the dim moonlight filtering through your window, “Whose going to stop me? You?”

A shudder shakes your shoulders and when you blink, he’s gone, like a phantom escaped in the night. You rip your hands through your hair and tears drip down from your lids into your lap, staining the fabric of your pajama pants. Your hands shake in front of you, fingertips showing double the harder you try to concentrate.

His presence is akin to smoke billowing within your belly. The tendrils of his black cloud wrap around your spine, traveling up your torso until it sits in the base of your throat, suffocating you endlessly. Every day you spend breathing is another day fighting for relief from this monstrous thing in your chest.

Bakugou turns to much different means of coping.

At first it was sweet – him checking in on you. He would offer to come pick you up from work if you’d ever decided to leave anytime after seven, and if he was stuck on patrol or in meetings, he’d arrange a car to bring you home. When you go on your afternoon runs, he’d volunteer to go with you even though he’d done rigorous amounts of training at work.

The simplest ways he would show his sense of pride in protecting you would be to hover closely, his body within an arm’s length so he could snag you out of any bad situation if there ever were one. Still, even with his insatiable hovering tendencies, he would keep his own personal touch at bay.

At times when he would usually hold your hand or brush up against you, he stays at least three feet away. It’s as if he’s chosen to self-quarantine himself from you, deeming your affections as either insufficient or insufferable, which neither are good options to choose from.

Once it becomes overwhelming, you find yourself in too deep, too bitter. You try to reach out to him in the form of affection – brushing your palm over his hips as you pass him in the kitchen, trying to grab his hand when you’re walking together, and reaching out to touch his shoulders when he faces away from you the few nights he does end up in bed.

To shout out now would be hypocritical, as you have had a part in pushing him further from you, isolating his affectionate touches even further. Yet, the longer he keeps himself from brushing even his clothed thigh against you when he passes you by in the kitchen or at the grocery store, you wonder who is actually suffering from the lack of physical affection and who is merely existing.

Eventually he grows more suffocating.

Bakugou will not let you be out of his sight for longer than a few minutes at a time despite sitting opposite from you on every surface he can find. You have started to hide in the bathroom, proclaiming cramps or bad pork before skittering off to the bathroom with your phone clutched in the grasp of your fingers, if only to find some peace from his prying eyes for a few moments at a time.

He has never been so clingy before, and you know that it is laced with the trauma as a result of the Awase situation. However, this doesn’t make it any easier to stomach his lurking. On the other hand, it adds a stinging sensation at the irony of it all.

Bakugou wants to be completely involved in every facet of your life without even kissing you good morning when he hands you your coffee.

You knew that what had happened with Awase all those weeks ago had to have affected him, coloring his outlook on life no matter how bleak it had been before. With each passing day he grows closer to you, hands metaphorically wrapped around your throat, squeezing every last pound of air from your tongue. But still, you never imagined that he would take t his far.

And so, you lie through your teeth.

Yaoyorozu was invited to the grand opening of a bar in the plaza sector of the city, and she invites you and the other girls for a night out. You know that if Bakugou heard about you going on about visiting a bar and intending to drink, he’d say some new form of the word ‘no’ and persuade you with his big, round, crimson eyes to stay home.

There were too many safety hazards, after all. Especially if you are going to be drinking. Your senses would be impaired, and you would be much easier to take advantage of once you are two shows into the wind. And then Bakugou would casually remind you that Momo normally finds a guy and ditches you, thus forcing you into taking a cab ride home, which creates an entirely new set of problems.

Which is why, when you tell him why you won’t be home tonight, you lie, “It’s just a sleepover, like back in high school! Momo and Ochako wanted to get back together and I think Mina might even be coming too!”

Bakugou nods, looking over the top of his combat training manual, “Just let me know if you need me to come pick you up, alright?”

You nod, not daring to reach forward and try to brush your hand against his forearm, afraid he might recoil or redirect you. Instead you force a smile, nodding your head as you open the door, “Momo is picking me up, and she said she’d be fine with driving me back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

His posture visibly relaxes at the sentiment. It is maddening how one simple shift of his composure makes you want to barrel into him, to forget your entire night and attempt to curl up with him on the couch. It has been so long since you last felt his touch, even in a casual sense. The bar counter top acts like a prison, barring him from you as he isolates himself.

“Have fun,” he manages, eyes falling away from you.

And you’re glad, too. At least when he’s not looking at you, he can’t read your face for lies. Bakugou is like a human lie detector, able to sense any unease in your usually relaxed posture.

Of course he has no reason to disbelieve you – why would you lie to him in the first place? You have preyed on that trust, a thing you feel so despicable for even considering, the fib scraping against your teeth like nails on a chalkboard. You wince at his tone, unbelievably naïve, but the door stays open regardless of your conviction.

The lie rolls around in your belly like a parasite, preying on the poor decisions and leeching on your inhibitions. You feel it suffocating your throat as you blow a kiss his direction, telling him not to wait up as you readjust your backpack full of overnight accessories and a change of clothes that is slung over your right shoulder.

Bakugou smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which only further feeds the parasitic being taken up a home in your stomach. It sits heavy on your tongue when you tell him goodnight, threatening to chew right through your cheek until it’s been bared to the whole world.

He nods, licking his lips as he watches you leave. You wave one last time as you shut the door, guilt eating you alive until you feel tears press against the backs of your eyelids. You swallow your conscience and head towards the car you recognize as Momo’s, the weight of your club clothes sitting heavy in your backpack. You cinch it closer to you, praying that Bakugou hasn’t somehow developed x-ray vision to be able to see through your bag.

And yet, a part of you wants him to come barreling down the stairwell to beg you to come back inside, back home. You want him to whisper your name like a prayer, his hands outstretched so you can reach forward to slot your knuckles between his.

At least in your hallucinations he still wants you.

Once you’re at the club bar, it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself in a drunken stupor.

“Listen,” you slur, pointing a finger into Momo’s ample chest, “I-I’m not sayin’ he’s gotta dick me down every night, b-but like-once?!”

You take a long drag of beer, swallowing the acidic liquid until it’s burning your throat. You slam your cup back down on the table top, pursing your lips as you take in a deep breath, “I mean it’s been months, guys. Months.”

“A-Are you serious?” Uraraka leans in closer to you, eyes widened, “N-Not since-”

“Nope,” you huff, slumping down in the booth seat. “I-I know that since the incident that things have been different, but it’s like he doesn’t even want me anymore.”

Momo reaches her arm around your shoulder, tucking you into her side, “I’m sure he just doesn’t know how to handle all of it, and he’s just trying to do his best.”

“Bakugou?” Mina laughs, bright eyes hidden behind her lids as she screws her face up into a giggle. She takes a sip of her beer, propping her feet on the nearest unoccupied table, and sighs, “Good luck with that one, babes. I don’t see things returning back to normal anytime soon, not with how damn stubborn he can be.”

The beginning of a fresh set of tears presses like a crater into the backs of your eyes, a pulsing headache drawing out a groan from your lips. You drop your forehead to the tabletop and relish at the cool surface opposing your heated flesh, “I-I know that normal isn’t exactly an option yet, but I would like to feel like I wasn’t so fucking alone in my own house, y’know? I mean, he’s right there and yet it’s like I’m there all by myself?”

Your phone buzzes from within your purse and there is a collective grouching that echoes from everyone at the table, sour expressions making it obvious the way they feel about your ringtone. Momo crosses her arms over her chest, “You do realize this is the seventeenth time he’s called you, right?”

You reach into your purse but her hand is on your wrist before you can snatch your phone. She shakes her head and Mina huffs through her nose, “Why can’t you just put that thing on silent? When is he going to stop bugging you?”

“Yeah?” Momo brushes her thumb against your forearm, “Didn’t you tell him you were coming out with us tonight?”

A bright red tinge sits hot on your cheeks, making your skin look flushed. Your friends understand your conflict then, sitting back from you in shame. Mina is the first to speak, “You lied?”

“I-well, I couldn’t just-” You rack your brain for the right words to say to defend yourself, sweat accumulating at the base of your back in droves. You want to run away, but there’s nowhere to go. If you head home now, Bakugou will most likely have a full rant ready for you as soon as you walk in the door.

“You can’t keep lying to him like this,” Momo presses her palm to your cheek, brushing away a tear before it can slip down your face, “You’re going to have to be honest with him eventually. He needs to back off, to let you live. There’s no reason he has to be attached to you like an umbilical cord all of the time.”

“His concern is kind of nice, though,” Jirou speaks up.

Your head snaps towards her and she shrugs, “All I’m saying is at least he’s trying to protect you. He’s not completely self-absorbed after all.”

Before you can try to refute her or defend him, your phone starts ringing once more. Your hand dives into your purse, pulling it from within and looking down at it like that might keep it from ringing any longer.

“I don’t understand!” You’re whining now, fresh saltine droplets settling in your lashes. You wipe at your face, “I-I don’t get why he won’t just leave me the hell alone. I told him exactly what I was doing tonight, exactly where I was going and who I was going to be with. I just-”

“Except you lied.”

You feel all of the heat leave your body, only frozen fingertips and an icy, rigid spine left behind.

You turn your head at the familiar baritone voice that cuts into you from behind, and your heart drops into your stomach. When you breathe, the parasitic thing living there begins to swallow your stomach whole, gnawing away at your most sensitive parts first.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to feel anger instead of shame, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What, pray tell, the fuck are you doing here?!” Bakugou snaps, eyes a conflagration of brassy tones, pupils dilated to prove his anger, as if it weren’t so evident from his tone.

Mina goes to speak up when she sees you flinch, but you’re already being dragged out from the safety of the booth seat. Bakugou’s blunt nails are digging into your bicep and forearm like little spears, snagging you so you can’t get away. He yanks you into the hallway, your back pressed into the wall as he further infringes on your space with his closeness.

“You fuckin’ lied to me?”

His voice is held together by rage, begging to be broken apart as he lets the feelings seep through the cracks of his resolve. Bakugou’s jaw quivers as he grinds his teeth together, heaving breaths making his chest expand to brush against your own. It’s the closest thing you’ve felt to intimacy since that night in the alley – since he decided to pretend that you and your needs didn’t exist.

You want to start bubbling out another fib, foaming at the mouth with lies so smooth he’d have to believe them. Your brain is stumbling in attempt to keep up with his fast paced thinking. Every phrase you could possibly say to make this go down like honey instead of vinegar passes through your mind, but you know that this will sting no matter how long you put off trying to swallow it.

The intentions you have now, to make everything easier on him and spare his emotions, have been tainted by your conniving words from before. You weren’t preparing for a confessional in the middle of this hole-in-the-wall bar, but not every night goes exactly how you plan it.

The both of you understand that sentiment rather intimately.

Bakugou’s eyes are ablaze, vermilion bleeding to amber nearest his pupils. His jawline is flexed, nostrils flaring, and you know that laced within his anger is something akin to fright, fearfulness. Every single feature he possesses is pinched tightly, as if his body were wound like a coil, and he is going to snap at any moment.

And then, when your mouth bobs open and shut, and you can’t find the right lie to squeeze between your teeth, you begin putting the whole situational puzzle back together. Anger replaces the acrid taste in your mouth, cinders of fury settling on your tongue the more it all starts to make sense.

Your eyes meet his and he feels the shift, his grip on your arm lessening at the sight of your furious irises honing in on him. The reality that he is not as innocent as you would like to believe seeps into your skin, settling like sticky acid, and you itch religiously to get it off of you.

“How did you know that I was here?” you ask, voice eerily calm as your vision begins to blur at the edges. You gnaw on your lower lip, tilting your head to consider every falter in his expression, “I told you I was going to be at Yaoyorozu’s. You had no idea that-”

You can’t help the choking sound that comes from your throat next, gagging on your words as pure fury overwhelms your body. Your shoulders shudder under the strain of these destructive emotions as realization settles in. Even the fear in his own irises cannot stop the tumultuous build of vehemence that seeps through you like molten lava, crawling upwards through your veins until all you can see is red – blinding red.

You’re repeating your question when it appears he won’t answer you to speak the truth; eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkled. Your jawline pulsates with muscle tremors as you grit your teeth down fervently, a high-pitched whining sound echoing within your own skull at the action, “What did you do, Katsuki?”

It’s not a question, though, not this time.

Bakugou’s throat bobs and before he can give you some shitty, half-thought out excuse, you’re poking your finger into his chest, directly between the taut line of his pectorals, “Where is it?”

“Wh-What?” he manages to cough out, tongue bitten between his teeth.

You take a step back with each question of the location, chin wobbling in denial, “My bag? My phone? My car? Did you put it in me, Katsuki?”

The sound of his given name dripping like toxic acid from your tongue makes his heart constrict within the confines of his chest. The organ beats at a thunderous pace, so hard that he’s sure there is an outlined bruise in the shape of it if you were to peel his shirt back and look. Still, he knows better than to argue with you – knows even better than to try and deny it. You are a human lie detector when it comes to him. You know his mannerisms so well that you’re able to spot a stuttering breath from a mile off, even the smallest of hints to his dastardly secret-keeping seeming like bright white lights to you.

He has backed himself into a corner in trying to keep you safe, so he admits with his head hung low, “Your phone.”

A shuddering breath makes your chest collapse, jaw fallen slack at the confession. Your spirit was praying that he might have just found out from a friend, maybe Kirishima discovered that you were out with Momo and Mina and told him. But no, now he’s admitted to the crime and he knows that he’ll have to face the punishment.

You want to root around in your purse until you’ve found the offending object, but it’s not the time, at least not right now. He can’t take advantage of using it while you’re both still in the same location. You’ll have to handle it later.

“How long?” you ask, voice small.

Bakugou does not answer immediately. His eyes are downcast, unable to meet yours as his lower lip quivers just enough for you to make it out in the dim light of the bar. Your heart thrums at the sight of him so distraught, but you lock your knees and force your body to straighten your spine and steel your resolve.

You repeat the question, digging your fingertip into his skin until you are sure that you’ve drawn blood underneath the fabric of his black tank top.

He snaps, the blood vessels in his neck thudding against the tanned skin there, “Since Awase, when the fuck else do you think?”

And just like that, your entire body is thrown back in time. You are that helpless woman in that alleyway, your body used for the lustful gratification of someone else, thrown to the side like a plaything when he was through. You feel hands, lips, skin, all over you, torturing your body even now when you are awake. The ghost of his crooked touch makes your eyes water, thick droplets sticking to your lashes.

The sound of that villain’s name makes your ears burn and your tongue turn to sandpaper. A chill runs down your spine despite the massive blanket of heat in the room from all the bodies burning with alcohol and movement. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes unable to focus as you attempt to come back to this version of reality.

A single tear drips down your cheek, but Bakugou knows better than to try and wipe it away like he might if it were any other time.

“I-I can’t believe this,” you murmur, withdrawing your finger from him to cover your mouth with both hands. You blink slowly, turning your gaze from him to the floor, taking it all in with stride, attempting to breathe as evenly as possible while still processing everything unfolding in front of you.

Bakugou reaches up to touch your elbow, just enough contact to try and bring you back down to earth. Your eyes snap upward, meeting his vermilion gaze with an expression opposing your fiery wit from earlier. He’s never seen your body waver in such a way that would leave him to believe you to be weak, but now all he wants is to hold you between his arms, piecing you back together bone-by-bone, vessel-by-vessel.

You’re lost in the simplistic touch of him, the first you’ve felt in what you know to be weeks, but believe to be eons. He has been so distant from you that you almost forget why you are angry when he’s this close to you, suffocating your body in the best of ways. You can smell the telltale sign of his quirk, an ashen sweetness that you are sure you’ve become addicted to throughout the entirety of your relationship.

A breath bites through your lungs and you sharply cut your teeth into the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself out of your dazed stupor brought on by isolation. As you open your eyes again, you steel yourself, stepping up with brazen confidence to slap away his hand from your arm.

The burning flames licking at your throat turn to white-hot rage, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Katsuki, but this controlling me shit has got to stop.”

His eyes refocus on yours again, pupils swallowing those pretty red globes whole, fear riddling every bone in his fragile body, “Wh-What are you talking about?”

Now it is you who has backed him into a corner, his backside and shoulder pushing against the wall. He tries to reach out to stop you, to beg for your forgiveness, but the stony expression in your irises tells him that he needs to be still an listen no matter how many biting insults and wanton words sit on his tongue.

“You’re breathing down my neck, Bakugou,” you inhale a shuddering breath at the sound of his surname being forced through your teeth. Tears lick at the corner of your eyes, your fists shaking by your sides, “I can’t take a shit without you wondering why I’m gone for longer than three minutes. You’ve been so fucking controlling that I can’t even go out with my friends without you needing to make it a momentous occasion!”

“You lied to me, for fucks sake!” Bakugou presses into you, snarling around his words. “You expect me to just forget that? What else have you been lying about?”

Your teeth clatter against one another, rattling around in your head, “I had to! You’ve been this glass case of emotion lately! And you won’t even let me walk home alone! I feel like I have a damn shadow everywhere I go!”

“I’m trying to-”

A thought hits you then, mulling you over so powerfully that you stumble backward, putting distance between the two of you. Your gaze falters from him to the wall, unable to look him in the eyes as you utter the next few syllables, “You don’t trust me?”

Bakugou is quick to refute you, stepping forward to take you out of your haze, “Hell no, baby! Of course, I trust you.”

“You put a goddamn tracker on my phone!” you snap, muscles quivering beneath your skin as your entire body tenses at the statement. Tears settle in your lids, dripping down over your cheek when you force him off of you. “What the hell am I supposed to think?”

He reaches out and wraps you up in his arms forcefully, despite your thrashing and shoving. You tear into him with your words and your touch, trying to punch him even though your range of motion is rather limited. Bakugou puts his chin on the top of your head, bottling you up like liquid rage, holding you together as you try to fall apart.

Bakugou has one hand against the back of your head, hands tucked into the tresses of your hair to cradle your head into the curve of his neck. His other palm rubs up and down the length of your arm as he tries to calm you down from your frenzied state, the loud music and pulsing bodies in the background of the bar doing little to deter your heightened temper.

You gulp as you feel his mouth bury into the crown of your head, kisses sprinkled into your hair like little flowers, petals of kind words tucked against your scalp. Bakugou wants to take you by the hand and drag you home, to curl up with you for the first time since that horrible night in the alleyway, and whisper promises into your skin until he goes hoarse.

You tilt your head upward, face shining bright with tears, nose bumping into his chin, “The-Then why do you-”

Katsuki nudges his nose over yours, a shuddering breath making his lip tremble against the bow of your mouth. A snarling growl rips his throat wide open as every feral, primal instinct buried deep within him is unleashed, “Are you really that dense, dumbass?”

The insult takes you by surprise, facial expression souring as you roll your tongue against your teeth, attempting to swallow the acidic retort sitting on the tip of the muscle in your mouth. Bakugou watches you with a careful eye, making sure that you aren’t going to speak up before he tries to rephrase himself.

“Listen, I just-I…” The words are caught in his throat, raking into his esophagus like shards of glass. Bakugou hates being vulnerable, especially with you. It makes him feel raw, torn open, and uncomfortable. He wants to be the pillar of strength you believe him to be, and how can he prove that he’s worthy of your trust when he feels so weak?

And yet, with you standing in front of him with expectant eyes and shaking hands, he finds it within himself to say what has been plaguing his mind for weeks.

“This shitstorm happened to me too, y’know?”

He sounds so heartbreakingly honest that it makes your skin prickle. A chill tightens like a coil around your spine, spreading shards of ice throughout your veins until your whole body is burning from the frigid feeling, fingertips numb.

Bakugou’s mouth bobs open and shut before he tears a hand through his hair, the other never leaving your body, frustrated at the fact that he can’t think of the right things to say. He looks up at the ceiling, a breath expanding his chest so he’s flush with you.

“Every fucking time I close my eyes, I see that shit all over again.” The veins in his body are prominent as he stresses himself out by trying to speak, “I see you, helpless, because I fucked up and lost focus. I-I couldn’t do anything and you needed me an-”

He can’t force the words out, can’t muster them up from the back of his throat no matter how many times he licks at the inside of his mouth, desperately searching his own skin for the answers. The reality of what might come to fruition when he says his truth out loud is too much to bear, no matter how much he knows he has to have this conversation with you. This is not something you both can just move on from, not without addressing it in all of its ugliness first. He wills the words to come out, closing his eyes and breathing deep. And even still, his mind will not cal.

Katsuki is a raging sea and you are the rickety lifeboat caught in his violent storm.

You swirl in his vortex for a moment longer before prodding him, hand pressed flat against his chest. You brush your thumb over his collarbone, “Katsuki, come on, talk to me. Please.”

Bakugou’s hand flinches by his side and you wonder if he wants to reach out to touch you with the pads of his fingers; to use you like an anchor, weighing him down in the right in the right way to bring him back to the current version of reality.

“I’m right here,” you whisper, pushing him further, knowing what he’s trying to tell you, but needing to hear it from his own tongue.

You step into his space and crowd him into the tight expanse of the hallway, and he can’t draw his eyes away from you despite the shame he feels from the tears currently clouding his vision. Every naysayer in his life comes to him in that very moment, telling him that he’s weak and spineless, completely useless if he can’t do the simplest of tasks. They scream at him, clawing at his heart until he’s bleeding out tears, hands shuddering in pain.

All he wants is to see you smiling again; a genuine, shining smile. He wants to watch as your eyes light up when he kisses you, or when he touches you here and there, casually in passing. Bakugou misses the old kindling the two of you had before that fateful night all those weeks ago. There was a familiarity that now feels lost in translation, wafting somewhere between the space separating the both of you.

You’re begging him in his ear now, words lodged like knives into his heart, a new syllable signifying a new blade, “Why are you doing this, Katsuki? Please, tell me!”

That is the last one – the proverbial blade that shoves its way through is spine to split him in two. He can’t help the way his voice shatters when he finally breaks, falling forward on weak knees, “To fucking protect you! Goddammit!”

You take a short step backward, shuffling away from him at his sudden furious outburst, the change in volume startling you. Goosebumps pebble on your skin and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you, settling in your stomach to eat away at your resolve, that same parasite from earlier flaring up all over again. You swallow the pent-up emotion in your throat, but Bakugou isn’t finished, not yet. Now that he’s finally been ripped open, he can’t stop the flow.

“Every night you’d get further and further away from me,” his hands are flexing at his sides, knuckles turning white, little crackling explosions lighting like a warning sign, “And I can’t fucking get over this shit, okay?!”

The familiar ashen sweetness lingers in the air at the bare minimum usage of his quirk, but it’s comforting in a way. You breathe it in and try to stave off any tears from stemming down your cheeks. It is his turn to crumble, to fall down at your feet and beg for you to help him repair the gaping wound in his chest.

As you watch him fall apart, it’s physically painful to witness the way his body quivers, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into use. His lower lip, full and pink, is wobbling while he tries to form coherent sentences. You’ve never wanted to reach out and touch him more, to calm him with a tender brush of your knuckles over his cheek, or a hand flattened onto the plane of his chest. But he is too far away from you now, distant in the worst way.

It’s like he’s a figurative bomb, building up and ready to detonate. Each passing moment only fills him with more gunpowder, stuffing his throat until he’s suffocating under the notion that he can’t save you. Has he ever been capable of keeping you from harm?

“I-I was weak,” his voice breaks and so does his façade, tears brimming in the ducts of his reddened lids, “I let that fucker get the best of me, and i-it cost you. You were hurt because I couldn’t protect you.”

Bakugou’s palms shudder at his sides, fingers curling around smoke. You want to step forward, to reassure him that he is the furthest thing from weak that you have ever seen, but he cowers from you when you get too close. He reminds you of a caged animal finally set free, unsure of where to step, how to breathe all of the fresh air at once. Almost as if he is withholding himself from you now that his confession has broken through the bars around his heart, echoed loud for you to hear.

“Throwing yourself into danger isn’t going to help,” you answer him, “and neither is suffocating me.”

The fire fueling your bones from earlier returns at the realization that he has been distancing himself from you on purpose. You assumed it had been a subconscious decision based on the trauma experienced from the encounter with Awase, but you never would have guessed he was actively choosing to ignore you, especially physically. And now, with his hands shaking at his sides, you are beginning to wonder if he feels the same pull that you do, the desire to let your palms search one another’s skin to find the answers to your innermost questions.

“The only thing I’m any good at is fighting!” Bakugou falls back against the wall, eyes downcast in defeat as his shoulders slump forward. He opens his palms in front of his body, flexing his fingers. “All I can do is work as hard as I possibly can to be the best. I have to be the best.”

He curls his fingers back to fists, fury coursing through his veins like fire, accumulating in his palms to a head, a bomb settled in the cracks and crevices of his skin. “All I can focus on right now is getting stronger, to be a hero that you can trust to keep you safe.”

When his eyes snap up to meet yours, there’s a flame burning deep in his vermilion irises that makes them look alight, the bright amber color in contrast to their usual hue. It frightens you slightly, sending a tremor down your spine until you are curling your toes.

Bakugou’s hands creak as he turns them to fists, knuckles turning white, “I’ll be the best, even if it kills me.”

The very permanent word involving mortality turns your knees to jelly, bones grinding against one another in a desperate attempt to keep yourself upright. Your throat closes, emotion billowing like smoke in your esophagus until it is pushing into every available space, effectively choking you where you stand.

“Y-You don’t have to be so, so,” you struggle to find the words, breath hard to come by as you gasp for air, “so-”

“So what?!” Bakugou’s voice is patronizing now as he grows defensive at your tone, taking a downward turn to the other side of kind. He grits his teeth and you allow yourself to see him for what he truly is in this moment – a frightened child, begging for a savior, or at least some solid ground. He grimaces, shaking his head, “I couldn’t protect you when I needed to. And if I can’t keep you safe, what else am I good for?”

Silence hangs between the two of you at the heaviness of his words, creating an even further distance as his words settle like embers on your heart.

You want to brush the cinders away, blowing the ash into the wind and along with it, the horrific memories from the past few weeks. His name sits on the tip of your tongue, scratching at the muscle and begging to be freed from the cage of your teeth. Your fingertips ache at your sides, keening towards him with the desire to find something to feel, some tactile version of reality to reaffirm that you have not lost everything. The heaviness in your feet keeps you from shuffling forward, tucking yourself into his body and promising him that you’ll never see him as anything short of incredible.

“See?” Bakugou’s voice shatters into another wave of jagged pieces with every longing look you give him, tossing his arms in the air to show his defeat, “And then you go and do shit like this, where you look at me like I put the fuckin’ sun in the sky every morning.”

He’s wheezing the words out now, manic movements jerking his arms and shoulders, praying that his palms might go off in the middle of this club so you both can get booted out and forced to go home. Maybe then he can break through the barrier of how he has been feeling to show you why he’s treated you like a child.

“How the hell am I supposed to live up to this pillar of greatness you’ve made me out to be? This perfect image of me you have in your mind is a lie,” Bakugou is begging you for an answer with his gestures. His hands reach towards you, never touching, eyebrows cocked upward as his eyes search your face for a secret message hidden beneath your skin. “You think that I can do no wrong, that I’ll always be your hero. And now that I’ve fucked that up, and you still look at me the same exact way, how am I supposed to live with that? With being a fraud?”

Bakugou blinks and two identical tear droplets seep over the corners of his lids, tracking down his cheeks as he gasps for air, “I-I can’t help it when you look at me like I have all the answers when I-I can’t even fuckin’ figure out how I-”

You cover him like sunlight, warm and safe. He feels your mouth against his, your hands on his face and chest and its like you’ve pulled him from where he was floating midair back down to the ground again. Bakugou’s body is flush between your torso and the wall, either side of him pressed into something. He is hot, too hot, like his body temperature has skyrocketed. Sweat trickles down his spine, sticking his shirt to his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you part from him.

Your nose brushes against his, the bow of your lips still touching when you speak, “I haven’t been very considerate of you. I was too wrapped up in the way I was feeling that I didn’t stop to consider how it has been affecting you.”

You palm at his face, fingertips fawning over his cheek bones and brows and temples. Bakugou’s jaw is quivering, hands still dormant by his sides, flexed until his palms are splotched red with effort. You run your hand up from his chest to his shoulder, kneading the heel into his muscles to try and relax his body.

“Katsuki,” you call to him. “Look at me.”

And he listens.

The trail of your fingertips on his forearm feels like gasoline, trickling down his skin slowly but surely, making its way to his palms where his skin will act like a detonator. Bakugou grinds his teeth together as he tries to stay focused in on your face, the effort from it all makes the vein on his forehead protrude, thudding profusely beneath his skin.

“Take me home.”

The walk up the stairs to your door is tense, quiet.

Bakugou turns the key into the lock, the door opening with a gentle click. The two of you step inside, your bags strewn on the countertop and your shoes kicked off near the mat. Your hands wring in front of you as he faces away, the only visible thing being his backside.

“I don’t deserve you.”

The words take you by surprise, shaking you to your core. You stumble backward, hand clutched over your heart when it starts to sting, “Wh-Why do you think-”

“Do you know what it’s like to have people’s lives put into your hands, and then to fuck it all up?” Bakugou turns to look at you, hands glowing with the threat of his quirk, “To put the one person you care about more than fucking breathing into danger?”

His jaw quivers, “You didn’t see the look in your eyes when he was putting you through that shit. You were looking to me for help and I was fucking welded to a goddamn wall!”

You reach out to press your fingertip into the center of his palm, diffusing the built-up nitroglycerin in the crevices of his skin. Bakugou’s shoulders shudder, his eyes widening at your touch. You force a smile, but it does not reach your eyes, and he notices.

“Hey,” you call to him, your other hand drifting up to cup his cheek, trying to turn him towards you. “Stop that. Look at me.”

Bakugou’s eyes stop flitting around and focus on you, connecting your gazes. He looks frightened again, like a scared child. All you want is to hold him tight and put him back together again until he feels whole.

You push yourself up onto your toes, nudging your nose over his cheek slowly. You’re taken aback when you feel his hesitant touch dredge over your hip, thumb just beneath your top. It’s the most intimate feeling you’ve received from him in weeks, and it sends every atom of you on high alert. Your spine tingles as you stutter-step forward until you’re pressed into him.

Your breath hitches at his closeness, fanning out over him in a wave of heat that makes him shiver. You feel your heart ready to explode from within the confines of your chest, begging to be let free as it tries to claw its way out of your ribcage. You can’t look away from him, it’s like he’s turned into a magnet for your body.

As you graze over his chest with your other hand, the one against his cheek brushes up into his hair to card through the blonde strands. Your thumb catches against the stubble of his undercut just behind his pierced ears and it makes you smile, remembering the conversation where you coerced him into getting the new haircut in the first place. And now he can’t go a couple weeks without getting it shaped back up.

“Kiss me,” you plead, your touch like that of a siren, calling him deeper into the water, “please, Katsuki.”

In spite of him suffocating you mentally and situationally, you know that he’s been distant physically. It wasn’t hard to realize the shift in affections, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to his wayward glances and casual touches. Once he started to withdraw from you, you began to worry but your own anxiety wound so tightly around your body that it drowned out any other inhibitions that might have drawn you closer to asking questions. Bakugou has never been one to bare his emotions anyway.

Every morsel of him wants to dive headfirst into your waters, to drink you in through his nose and mouth until it is only the essence of you that remains. And yet there is something holding him back, like strings attached to his shoulders, forcing him to stay still.

It is that very look in your eyes right now that keeps him at bay. The reality that you’ve not tainted your view of him makes his stomach churn. You should hate him for letting Awase take advantage of you. You should want to slap him across the face and punch him in the gut. You should want to rip your fingers into his chest and slay him where he stands, cutting a gaping hole where his heart once was, filling it with a black ooze that might represent your disdain and disappointment.

Anything other than this overwhelming prideful look gleaming in your eyes that tells him he could do no wrong.

The sight of it brings tears to his eyes and he has to look away, the weight of it all too stifling as he attempts to breathe again. Bakugou struggles with oxygen, feeling lightheaded as you stand so near to him.

“Look at me,” you beg of him, your own voice sounding raw. You swallow every possible reticence you might have in this moment and focus all of your energy on him, “I love you, okay? There’s nothing you could do to change that, Katsuki. Nothing, so-”

You’re cut off mid-sentence by the familiar feel of his lips, warm and full against your mouth. He has captured you entirely, his hands on your face as he steps in closer to you. You shudder with tears at the sensation of him kissing you for the first time in weeks. A wash of warmth seeps through your body, starting at your head and curling around your spin until it has reached your toes. You feel lightheaded at it all, so wrapped up in him that you can’t focus on anything else.

Bakugou’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his body squatted in front of you to push himself closer into every crevice of available skin. You dip your hands beneath his top, the pads of your fingers mapping out the contours of his muscular frame.

“Fuck,” he murmurs between your teeth, your tongue catching the word by lapping against his gums.

His hands find your backside, squeezing the supple skin like his life depends on it. You moan, rolling your hips forward. Your mind is foggy, your entire being in a haze, at the passionate way his hands obsess over your body.

When he taps your hips with his thumbs, you know what it means. You leap upward, his forearms catching your thighs to wrap you around his waistline. You don’t break away from kissing him. You’re not sure after this if he might retreat back into himself, so you full well intend on milking him for all that he’s worth in every aspect of the word.

The next thing you feel is the cool sheets beneath your steaming backside, sweat making your shirt cling to your body. Your hand sifts through Bakugou’s hair and he nips at your lower lip, relishing in the way the moans fall freely from your tongue.

He sits back on his thighs, tugging his shirt over his head, when he mumbles, “Shirt. Off. Now.”

The momentary burst of authority makes your cunt clench beneath the lace of your underwear. Your eyes go wide, but you do not hesitate to pull the offending fabric from your upper half. Bakugou has settled between your thighs when you can finally see him again. He makes quick work of your bra, flinging the garment across the room carelessly before swooping in to begin sucking at your chest.

He tweaks one piqued nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the other side of you preoccupied with his mouth. You whine, bucking your hips upward. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you can make out the impression of his bulging erection. The thought of getting to feel his dick again makes you keen, reaching up to thread your hand into his hair, the other palm digging fingernails into the thick, corded muscle of his shoulders.

“Damn, Princess,” he murmurs as he releases your nipple with a pop. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your breath shudders out of your lungs, fanning over his hair to make the strands shake in the darkness of your bedroom. You wrap your legs around his midsection to try and grind yourself up into his clothed length.

Bakugou slips his hand beneath your shorts, unbuttoning them swiftly as his middle finger finds your clit immediately. You can’t help it when your whole body goes rigid, the once lost sensation of his hands on your lower half returning in a blinding wave of white-hot pleasure.

“Please, Katsuki,” you force yourself to look him in the eyes even though you think you’re seeing stars, “I just want you, please. I want you in me.”

He’s hesitant when he looks down at you, eyes stuttering over which of your features to focus on first. The tip of his middle finger is brushed up against your slick folds, not delving in just yet. Your chest is heaving, eyes clouded with the threat of tears while you palm at him, desperate for every inch of his skin to be mapped out beneath your fingerprints.

“You have me,” he whispers, cracking voice barely audible. He nods, slipping his finger slowly between the walls of your cunt, “You have me, baby.”

As he starts to coil his finger within you, the squelching sound of his digit and your pussy echoing off the walls, he looks you directly in the eyes. His free hand is near your head but you wish he’d touch you with it, your body insatiably itching for his next pass. You lick your lips and go to beg for him again, unwilling to sit through the torture of his fingers, but he stops you with a kiss.

“Let me do this, let me make you feel good.”

You are speechless, left only with a gaping mouth that is claimed by his tongue. He licks at your teeth and cheeks, whining for you to reciprocate while his finger still pumps in and out of you, knuckle dragging in a tantalizing way against your smooth walls. You hold him as tightly as you can by the neck, keeping him anchored to you, the fear of him running away from you again settling like a lead anchor in your belly.

It doesn’t take long for him to push you to the edge of your first orgasm. You’ve been denied of him for so long that you’re sure you could come undone under any circumstance at this point. But still, his thick digits curled up in the heat of you, coaxing forth the first white-hot wave of pleasure makes your body shudder.

“Katsuki,” you pant, rolling your hips in time with his finger’s thrusts.

The coil within your stomach starts to bunch up, so you clench around his finger. You whine, throwing your head back, jaw hung slack. Bakugou kisses up the column of your neck, “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it for me, yeah? You’re so pretty when you come apart.”

His encouragement is what throws you over the edge. You’ve missed the sound of his timbre coaching you into orgasm after orgasm. You cry out, your voice breaking, and your hips fall slack against the mattress as the pleasure digs into you. The silvery strands of your slick coat his fingers, but he doesn’t part from you until he’s sure that he’s lured every last whimper from your lips, every last wash of arousal from your hips.

You have him by the neck, digging your fingers in to pull him back towards your mouth for another drawn out kiss. Your nose and teeth clash, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here and he’s got his hands on you. The way your body sings at his caress does not go unnoticed by him, or rather he relishes in it, basking in the sound of your wanton moans and the reaction of your begging limbs.

“Please, Katsuki,” you’re grabbing for him as he pulls away. Your fingers desperately cling to his skin, digging in and forcing half-moon prints into the tanned flesh, “I need you, please.”

The words throw him back to those moments in the alleyway when your eyes screamed the phrase you’re speaking now. He was powerless to help you then, but he can be the one to save you now.

Bakugou stands to his feet and shuffles out of his pants, his cock throbbing between his thighs when he pulls away his briefs. You try to tug down your shorts but your body is so weak and you can’t force your brain to communicate with your extremities, so you end up pouting, hot tears clouding your eyes in frustration.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose over your cheek before kissing you long enough for you to forget about your predicament. Your body molds to his intentions, hands finding his undercut to sift through the short hair there, his skin providing you with some sense of calm despite the raging emotions thudding like thunder in your brain.

He gently tugs down your shorts, peeling them from your ankles before depositing them on the floor. Bakugou runs his hand down his cock, using his bead of pre-come and what remains of your arousal on his hand to lubricate the skin. You’re salivating at the sight of him, inflamed red cockhead ready to split your cunt wide open. You’ve missed the familiarity of him inside of you, and your body notices because despite just having a spectacular orgasm that should have put you to bed for some time, your pussy flutters as a new wave of slick trickles down to the sheets.

The tip of his cock opens your pussy up enough that you’re keening forward, pleading to take more of him with the canting of your hips. You whimper out beseeching words, eyes searching his face as your hands try to find purchase on his shoulders. He shakes his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “Hush, baby. I promise I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

The duality of his words is not lost on you.

Your jaw hangs open slightly, eyes wide as you look up at him. Bakugou grips the headboard with one hand, the other guiding his cock into your heat. If you look close enough, you can see the threat of glassy tears washing over his pretty red irises, making them look like little jewels in the moonlight filtering through your bedroom windows.

“Katsuki,” you whimper his name like a prayer as he slowly sheaths himself between your folds. He grunts when the base of his cock meets the lips of your pussy, eyelids fluttering somewhere between open and shut at the sensation.

He drops his head, gritting his teeth, “Fuck, I missed you.”

A relieved, broken laugh shakes your throat, the smile left behind making Bakugou see stars. You palm at his chest, “I missed you too, so much.”

The two of you have still been together every day, even sleeping in the same bed, and yet you’ve been so distant it was heartbreaking. You feel the shards of your shattered heart slowly piecing back together with each thrust he throttles into you, his hips slamming into your thighs.

It’s intense, but somehow graceful. Bakugou is not just ramming his cock into you for the sake of doing it, but he’s proving to you with every stroke of him that he’s never leaving your side again. He’s gripping the headboard so hard that his nails are leaving scratches, but you’re more focused with the tantalizing snap of his hips, the drag of his cock and those prominent veins as they stimulate your pussy even further.

His jaw quivers, hands white knuckling as he clutches the headboard even harder, picking up his pace to start building that starburst in your belly. He’s unwilling to let his hands go near you now that he’s got himself sheathed completely.

He doesn’t deserve every part of you, not yet.

Bakugou’s chest twists as he realizes he hasn’t earned his honor back; he hasn’t won the prize of feeling your skin under the sensitive pads of his fingertips while he’s fucking into you with his aching cock.

His breath stutters, heart clenching within the confine of his ribs, at the sight of you, your irises focused on only him. Your pupils are blown wider with each thrust, black swallowing the color of your irises as you reach that peak subservient headspace. His hips move slow but with purpose, his cock pulsing within your walls as you clamp down on him.

Snapping his hips up into you, the heat of it all starts to overwhelm him and he can’t breathe. The mix of your warm skin and the absolute adoration held for him in your eyes is too stimulating once you tighten your cunt around him, trapping his dick in your heat.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, stilling his hips as his nails screech against the headboard.

Your hands are on him in an instance, exploring his chest and shoulders. You lick your lips and force your ass to stay put on the bed, breathing heavy through your lips. You swallow and your throat bobs, only proving further to him how absolutely enamored with him you appear to be.

“Katsuki,” you whisper into the void, cheeks warming with a blush.

Bakugou shakes his head and with the ferocity that he’s gripping the headboard, he wonders if your nailbeds can bleed. He bites down harshly on his lower lip, listening to your pleading calls for a moment too long before responding, “I-I don’t-”

He can’t form coherent sentences, not when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and you’re gazing up at him like he’s just gotten back from hanging the moon. He squints hard, eyes filling up with tears, “I can’t, fuck.”

“Hey,” your breathless voice catches him in midair, anchoring him back from the dull hallucination that he could never find his way back to you. You reach up to gently press your palm onto his cheek, the cooling touch of your hands doing enough to dispel some of the heat on his cheeks. You push away the sweaty locks of blonde hair sticking to his forehead so you can see his eyes in their full clarity.

Katsuki’s chin wobbles as he looks down at you, forcing his eyes to stay trained in on your face no matter how much he wants to look away. He still doesn’t believe he deserves that look you hold for him within your gaze; the way you tell him that he’s nothing short of a pillar of strength in your mind with a simple look is absolutely baffling.

“Hey,” you call again, tender tone striking a chord in his heart.

Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes, the height of his cheekbones, and you smile at his fragility. Bakugou’s eyes flit around to everything but you, overactive and unable to focus on you when you’re looking at him like he’s painted the stars in the night sky.

His conscience berates him as he lays with his cock buried deep into your pussy, his hips flush with yours, the doubt kicking him in the ribs to remind him that he must be nothing short of a piece of shit – how could he let you fall into someone else’s hands? How could he be so careless? How could he-

“Katsuki,” you rub your hands over his face once more, patiently pulling him from the recesses of his toiling mind, “Come back to me.”

Bakugou’s pupils dilate but somehow you manage to bring his attention back around to your face, connecting your gazes once more. You are struggling to maintain your composure between his cock pulsing within you and the lack of his hands on your skin, your body stimulated but still wanting, but you whimper the words, “Will you kiss me?”

In that simple sentence, Bakugou realizes that he could never truly run from you.

Tears drip down from his cheeks onto your neck, pooling at the little cavity created by your collarbones. You smile up at him, brushing at the droplets as they drip down from his eyelids, cradling his face as he makes the decision to start running back to you instead of sprinting away.

“I love you,” he chokes out the words before claiming your lips with his searing hot kiss.

Your hands dip into the curves of his hips, prodding him to move forward while your lips sink deeper into his. Bakugou groans at the sensation, eyes rolling behind his closed lids, and slowly his palms find your body.

It’s almost like the first time he touched you, his fingertips searching every inch of available skin as if it were new to him. He rolls his thumbs over your ribs, counting each one under his breath as he fucks into you slowly. You whimper when he bites your lower lip, your jaw slack as he starts a biting path of kisses down from your chin to your earlobe.

“Katsuki,” your toes curl when he bottoms out within you, the tip of his cock brushing that delicate, spongy spot at the back of your core. Your nails drag salaciously down his shoulders, drawing little beads of blood in their wake.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down harshly on your neck. He chokes on a sob before licking and kissing your collarbones, “I love you.”

Bakugou is fucking into you steadily now, his hips slamming into you at just the right angle that the vein running along the underside of his dick drags against your folds. You clamp down on his cock when you feel it begin to twitch again, his cockhead brushing your cervix. He’s sniffling, breath catching at the sound, “I love you so goddamn much. I don’t fucking deserve you.”

He’s overcome with emotion but it only spurs him forward faster. His hips slam mercilessly into you, every rut telling you what he cannot coherently say with words. And you accept his wordless confessions with the tightness of your core, the openness of your eyes.

You respond in fervor, your lips singing his praises as you feel the beginnings of another orgasm curling into a hot fire in the pit of you. It’s like lava has dripped down every vein in your body, lighting your skin on fire with its proverbial heat. You whine, your back arching in the perfect way for his mouth to latch onto your pert nipple.

“Katsu’, please, fill me up,” you whimper, palming at his injured back, finding scars and wounds alike, “I want your come, won’t you come in me?”

He’s nodding around your nipple, affirming you non-verbally, but the gentle tug of his teeth makes you whine again. You are completely distraught with the pounding of his cock into your tight, wet heat, the obscene sounds reverberating off of the walls only to bounce back at you like an echo.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunts, hot tears mixing with the saliva that covers your breast, “such a good girl for me. Takin’ me so well. Gonna take this load?”

You can’t help the way you nod ferociously, pleading with him through both words and actions. You whine, a shuddering of your throat making the sound much more desperate than you intended, “Please, Katsuki. I just want you to stuff me full, I want to be full of you.”

The last time your cunt was full, it was with another man’s seed.

Thinking about it makes your tongue turn heavy and your stomach sour. You grit your teeth and the scent of ashen sweetness fills your nostrils, taking over every thought you’d had previously. You can’t linger your memories on the way something made you feel before, you will destroy your mind and your pride.

All you can focus on is scrubbing yourself clean with Katsuki.

He washes over you like a soothing balm, the heat of his body burning away any trace of anything else from any time before this moment now. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed by him – his body, his breath, his scent. You want to drown in him, only fulfilled through his means for the rest of your days, to dive headfirst into his pain and break through until it is only the two of you left.

You lick at him, the familiar taste of his skin settling on your tongue as you lap over flesh and bone. You beg for his hands to touch every inch of you with wanton moans falling from your lips, scrubbing away at the nightmares and replacing them with the fiery blonde with a quipping tongue to match his superpower. If you thought you might could handle it, you’d ask him to blast you with his quirk, to burn away what is left from before until there is only the now.

“I love you,” you whisper into the dark, “It’s only you, Katsuki. Always.”

Bakugou’s mouth is licking at your neck when you feel his hips still, the telltale sign of his release begging to be set free. You palm at his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes because you can’t hold it in anymore, the words making your chest swell until you think you might burst wide open, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He thrusts forward in time with your chanting, his lower lip quivering with desire as he pumps himself forward at a much faster pace. One of his thumbs reaches down to brush against your clit, stimulating you until you can’t speak in full sentences, let alone syllables. You grit your teeth together and beg for his load, “Fill me up, Katsuki.”

Your words mixed with the tone of your voice are what push him over the edge, the cusp of his release washing over the both of you. Bakugou’s hips stutter, sloppily fucking into you as he chases that blinding pleasure only you can provide him.

“Take it, Princess,” he murmurs into your lips as he claims you by painting your walls white, the final part of you that needed to be wiped clean.

Katsuki’s hands rest on either side of your head as he holds up his quivering body, spent from effort and emotion. You brush your thumb over the tear-stained parts of his face, clearing his skin of what remains from his vulnerable confessions, no evidence left behind. He can start anew, pretend that he never bared his soul to you only mere moments ago.

His eyes never leave you, drinking you in religiously as you blink slowly, irises soaking up every inch of your precious expression. Your pupils shrink enough for him to see the color of your irises clearly, tilting one of his hands upward so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your jaw. Your lids flutter closed at the tender sensation, losing yourself in the feel of his fingerprints.

When you blink your eyes open, you reach upward to tenderly cup his cheeks between the palms of your hands, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” he leans his head into your hand, nudging his nose over the swell of the heel. Your pulse thuds in his ears and he can tell that you’re nervous based on the pace.

Your voice is thick when you whisper the words that have always rang true in your heart, but you’ve never said aloud because they seemed so pointless. He hears them every day from citizens, begging him for autographs and screaming his name when they see him on patrol. You’ve been afraid that they would fall hollow on deaf ears, futile and empty. But your heart squeezes within your chest and you know that it doesn’t matter anymore. The two of you have learned how precious a few moments can be.

“You’re my hero, Katsuki.”

Your thumbs run back and forth over the skin of his cheeks, seeking out the heat and also providing him what you hope feels like comfort. His cock twitches within the walls of your aching cunt, mouth hung open slightly, just enough for you to see the pink of his tongue.

You nod, sniffling as tears press hot into the back of your eyelids, “You’ve always been my hero, no matter what. Nothing will change that.”

Bakugou kisses the inside of your palm before leaning forward to press his lips to yours. This kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he’s trying to communicate something between the volley of your tongues. You lean up and wrap your arm around his neck when he snakes his hands up the expanse of your back. He’s fully pressed into you now, your bodies flush with one another as he kisses you.

Secret words are passed back and forth from your throat to his, emotion swelling in your chest, begging to burst the longer he’s pressed into you. You curl your hand into his hair, anchoring him to you despite the growing heat billowing in the lack of space between your bodies. Bakugou licks at the seam of your lips and you let him in, you’ll always let him in, your hips rolling forward to meet him at every juncture of your bones.

And that’s how you fall asleep that night, entwined in such a way that neither of you can tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed it! drop me an ask if you did!!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #morgan writes bnha #my writing

605 notes · View notes

djmarinizelablog · 3 years

Note

hi! read your last ask and you said that you took up creative writing classes so you might have a wider knowledge about this but i was wondering when u mentioned different writing styles (like minimalistic, hightened imagery, linear vilennete and all of that) could you maybe explain the difference and what they really mean and maybe examples in our own levihan nation and writers? this might be asking for too much but i was pretty lost and i'd like to know more about all that. however you are def free to ignore this too!

Did you just ask me to write a comprehensive poetics essay, Anon? (I love writing about writing lmao)

Super long post ahead, and I’ll be citing certain fanfics that I’ve read so far and those that I think somehow exemplifies all the different writing styles I mentioned in the previous post.

First off, the ones I listed beforehand (minimalistic prose, heightened imagery, poetic language, linear narrative, non-linear vignettes) aren’t the only types of writing styles. There are more if you consider the variations of tone (humor/comedy, sentimental, macabre, noir etc), narration/perspective (first person, second person, third person omniscient/limited), and language (dialogue-heavy or action/scene-driven). And the nice thing is that you can actually use of one or two of them in your work---or all of them, if you’re feeling bold.

As Hange always loves to do: “Let’s experiment!”

--------

I’ll start with minimalistic prose. It is what it is: short, clear, and concise. Think less is more. You have an economy with words where you disregard most adverbs and focus more on the context to make way for meaning, thus allowing the readers to create their own interpretations of your writing. I think the method here is to write your intended draft first, and then cut the unnecessary words to flesh out the scene even more.

Notice how @stereobone wrote this paragraph of Black Dog (an Eruri fic):

Isabel's voice wakes him, brother, brother, has him sitting upright in bed and grabbing for the knife under his mattress. He braces himself for the attack before he realizes there isn't one. There is nothing in the darkness but him and his heavy, panicked breathing. Levi's heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of his chest. He drops the knife on the mattress and shuts his eyes and tries not to think about Farlan's bloody resigned face before he was eaten. He tries not to think about how he left them. How it's his fault.

It’s very simplistic in language; the paragraph lets you focus on Levi’s innermost thoughts while he deals with an external action (ie, having nightmares). The author hasn’t unraveled the rest of the plot yet, but you already know where the tension is coming from.

Next is heightened imagery. If you’re familiar with the different figures of speech (metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, etc), then this is where they all come into play. I think the challenge here is being able to balance it well with the text itself and make sure that the imagery actually clarifies the context of the paragraph instead of convoluting the intended meaning.

Here’s an excerpt from A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me:

Hanji watched Levi, standing there, head bent and bloodied handkerchief pressed against his arm, and was reminded, irrationally, of a night years ago. When her parents had taken her to the circus. [. . . .] Holding her parent’s hands, she’d gaped, head craned back as she watched the spectacle, a cacophonous mixture of sound and color. At the center of it all, she’d spied a boy. Among the twisting colors and tricks, he alone, was still. [. . . .] The boy was high above, balancing on a platform atop a long pole. In front of him, stretched an audaciously thin rope. Below, no net waited to catch him.

[. . . .]

When Levi looked up, his expression was set - like the boy before the tightrope. And she knew, with sinking certainty, he was going to take the step. Into thin air.

Gray eyes met her gaze and held it.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

At the door, Kenny smiled.

See how the powerful imagery of the boy on the tightrope was able to fuel the tension in that moment among Levi, Hange, and Kenny?

I think poetic language is akin to heightened imagery, except that the former is more focused on the actual language. It’s very lyrical, wherein you can actually hear the lulling song of the sentences in a rhythm. One of my favorite works that does this is Deep sea baby by @smallblip. Here she makes use of various setting and scenery to create this entire atmosphere of Levi and Hange’s relationship:

Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.

The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.

The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.

One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.

"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.

He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

It’s hauntingly poetic, the way the author is able to connect the metaphor in “a river of words” to the actual body of water right in front of Levi and Hange. Good poetic language is able to tighten up the texts together while keeping the sentence structure flowing with apt figures of speech.

When it comes to narratives, it only comes down to linear or non-linear. See how @lostcauses-noregrets does her opening statement in Trains (also an Eruri fic):

Levi hates trains. To be fair, Levi hates all forms of public transport, but he reserves a particular loathing for trains. They’re dirty, noisy, smelly and worse, filled with people. People who, heaven forbid, might attempt to speak to Levi, engage him in conversation. Levi’s worst nightmare is being stuck on a train with some friendly fuck who wants to pass the time making small talk. Admittedly it’s not a problem he has to deal with too often, his general fuck off demeanour deters all but the most aggressively friendly and hopelessly inebriated. But that doesn’t stop Levi from hating trains.

It’s a short fic and it’s very dependent on the linearity of events happening. But with that banger of a first sentence, the beginning already gives you enough of an idea of Levi’s pet peeve in the story, which in this case, is trains.

Here’s another hot and steamy fic called keep him waiting by keobuns that shows a linear narrative:

He’s sitting with them in the back of the lab, nursing a cup of tea — it’s still pretty full, and even cold now, for he was far too distracted listening to Hanji talk to properly drink — when he sees it. Hanji’s too preoccupied with overexplaining the same Titan experiment they’ve gone over a hundred times to notice his stare. They just continue on and on and on, gesturing with their hands, pointing with their fingers, flexing their wrists…

Ah. Levi has to bring his teacup to his lips to hide the way his lips tremble. Hanji has incredibly nice hands.

The entire story just revolves around Levi simping for Hange’s hands and how it all goes down from there. But you as a reader are kept wanting more with every paragraph and every sentence that the author constructs (and trust me, it’s not just the sexual tension between Levi and Hange that keeps us going).

Now, as much as I love the straightforwardness of linear prose, non-linear writing brings a different round of ideas onto the table. It can create recollections from flashbacks, heighten the perspective or interior turmoil of a character due to trauma or grief, or even just re-invent what-if scenes that the characters have imagined themselves.

Gnossiene by @thatalmondgirl is one of my all-time favorite Rivetra fics. In this excerpt, you will see how she switches between the past and the present, and how it affects Petra’s POV as a conflicted character:

Contrary to popular belief (fuck Auruo) Petra actually didn’t cry easily.

Alright, she could admit that at some times, she was...emotional. It was far from a weakness, but even she could admit that they sometimes got in the way and walled off all rational thought. Anger, frustration, sadness, hell, even happiness. The only one she could easily compartmentalise away was fear, which probably stemmed from her military career. Even so. It was never easy to separate all the others from her actions, think from a clean slate like the Commander could do, like the captain. [. . . ] Petra groaned, splayed out across her bed. She drew her arm across her eyes, willing the tears to go away. She’d already blown through her tissue box.

“Petra, a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” Mama sat on the end of her bed, with Petra on the floor between her legs. Even though Petra argued firmly that she was old enough to brush her own hair, Mama had insisted. Unfortunately, Petra wasn’t old enough - and probably never would be - to disagree with her mother.

“I know, Mama.” Petra grumbled.

“I don’t think you do. Else you wouldn’t be crying, would you?”

[. . . .]

“But a man shouldn’t complete you when you complete yourself. Maybe he’s an extension to your house. So you’ll be sad if the extension is compromised or burns down. But you still have the main house. And if it’s strong, the main house can still be standing even after the worst storm.”

Aside from Mama’s crazy metaphors that sometimes didn’t make sense, her message hit home. Even if it hit home years later.

See how it switched in between the before and after?

An off-shoot of non-linear writing are vignettes (a layering of scenes separated by section breaks) wherein this writing style allows writers to curate scenes in terms of fragments, creating some kind of mosaic for the readers once they finally see the big picture. Nakimochiku’s I’m leaving, are you coming with me? stacks up scenes of interactions between Levi and Hange, enough to depict the kind of relationship that they have as young lovers in a school setting. You can string these fragments together, rearrange them in a different order, but in the end, you will still get the author's clear goal of highlighting how Levi and Hange’s relationship develops over time.

Those are the styles that I mentioned in my previous posts, but as I’ve told you, there’s more to writing than those, so I’ll give a short run-through of other methods in writing.

Whether it’s dialogue-heavy works such as from my window to yours, or action-driven scenes like Carnivores (a Levi x Reader fic by CaptainDegenerate) that propel the story forward, we as readers should be able to follow through the actual storyline that the authors intend to take us.

A third-person limited (we listen to Hange’s thoughts in Clockwork by @tundrainafrica) vis-à-vis an all-knowing/omniscient narration (the moon is dark by @sayonarasanity alternates the perspective of Levi and Hange) should be able to make us understand why the author chose this particular kind of point-of-view in order to tell the story.

And lastly, having a solid and consistent tone throughout the work (the macabre of Even Humanity’s Strongest could make mistakes by Rimeko versus the sweet sentimentality of Flowers for You by @fanmoose12) should be able to set the atmosphere that the authors want us to imbibe as we read through their works.

So there’s your crash course on writing and reading. Enjoy? :)

#levihan #writing #fanfic #fanfictions #fanfiction #ao3 #djmarinizela #mine

49 notes · View notes

angelinasway · 3 years

Text

Regaining Hope

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing reviews. You guys have been inspiring. I'm gonna add one more warning to this story because I got a review on FFN that makes me feel I need too. Even though It's a warning that I never knew I would need to put considering who we're talking about here. So here it is, there is Angelus bashing in this. I'm trying to keep my biased about Angel to a minimum, but I wasn't aware that Angelus needed a disclaimer too, so there it is. As for this chapter, there will be a lot to unpack here. I'm also going with the idea that one of Clark's weaknesses is magic, so keep that in mind as you read this. Thank you guys again so much, your kind words have really helped me keep focused on the story, I truly do appreciate each and everyone who took the time to review. Thanks for giving this a chance I hope you all enjoy reading. Also thank you to my wonderful beta Hipkarma for giving this chapter a look for me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Two

It took Buffy less than a minute to find the recently constructed tunnel. It wasn’t snowing and she easily found a set of large footprints heading along a rocky ledge. The glacial ice was still steaming from whatever had been used to cut through it when she found the opening. The edges were smoothed as if a giant heated drill had ground and melted the ice into nothing. There were hardly any puddles to speak of, and it was quite clear that whatever did this, wasn't done by any machine that she knew of on Earth. In fact, if she had been dealing with anything else she would have immediately thought this was some sort of magic. Though to be fair, she still wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?" She grumbled quietly, as she stepped inside and slowly made her way through the frozen tunnel.

Her breath came out in large puffs of fog, adrenaline masking the cold she should be feeling. Luckily, there was just enough light to make out where she was going with her enhanced vision. It was a slow journey, but when she finally reached the opening, she gasped in awe. ‘Oh yeah, this thing is definitely out of this world. It’s absolutely massive, still partially covered in thousands of years of hard ice.’

She noticed a ramp leading onto the ship dripping with recently melted ice and cautiously followed it up. She stepped onto the glass-like metal flooring of the hull and noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see a strange looking floating creature moving into her periphery.

She froze. It looked way too much like a facesucker for her comfort zone. She took a step back, tossed her pack and dropped into a defensive stance before reaching behind her to unsheathe her scythe. The mouth, or body, or whatever the hell it was, started to open and she stepped back even further.

"Dammit, I hate it when I'm right." She muttered.

So focused on its head, she wasn’t paying attention when the next second its spike like tail whipped out slicing deeply into the side of her abdomen. Buffy cried out in surprised pain, feeling the unmistakable sensation of hot and sticky blood soaking through her shirt and down the leg of her jeans. She stumbled backward, but was able to keep her footing even as the thing tried to swipe at her again.

Her eyes narrowed at the thing. “All right, now you’ve really pissed me off,” she growled. The pain of her injury taking a back seat to her need to survive.

It screeched at her, attempting to swipe at her again. She dodged its attack, rolling right underneath of it and coming up with a full powered swing of her scythe, only with the wrong side. The flat end made contact, the thing slamming hard into the inner wall of the ship. It screeched again, as sparks flew from it and her eyes widened in realization.

“It’s a robot,” she murmured in surprise.

It came at her again, this time shooting some sort of blue ball of energy at her. She dodged, flipping away from it to create enough distance so she could charge the thing. Maybe take it by surprise. She never got the chance however, because by the time she had turned back around, her mystery man was already there and had the droid between his large hands. He struggled with it for a minute and Buffy stepped forward ready to help him when the metal suddenly gave under his assault. His hands crushed the droid like a soda can and he threw what was left aside, it crashing into the wall of the ship with a loud bang.

They stared at each other a long time. Man, she really hoped he wasn’t evil because right now with the injury she was sporting there was absolutely no way she could fight him. Especially, with the show of strength he just performed. The reminder of said injury brought back the pain in full and she shakily slid to her knees, scythe falling from her hand.

"Thanks," she breathed gratefully, her eyes falling shut as she used her hand to stem off the blood flow as best she could.

"You're welcome." He said, the deep baritone of his voice making her shiver. She felt him move closer, before he added, "You're hemorrhaging, the droid nicked your abdominal artery."

Buffy nodded, wincing as she used one hand to undo her belt and slide it through the loops in her jeans. "I know." She said shakily. "Not exactly my first rodeo."

She felt him move closer still, crouching down in front of her. Her trembling hands trying to clumsily wrap her belt around her torso so she could stop the bleeding.

"I could cauterize the wound for you, if you'd like." He said quietly, worry lacing his voice.

Buffy finally managed to put the end through the loop in that moment, and yanked the belt tight. She fell backwards, her back hitting the cold metal wall. She whimpered as tears of pain filled her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose until the pain began to ebb away. When she finally could speak again, she met his eyes, a small smile gracing her lips at the concern she saw in them. "Thank you,” she said sincerely, “but it’s not necessary, I heal fast." She must have lost more blood than she thought however, because her next words surprised even herself. "Just need to slowdown the bleeding so my Slayer healing kicks in. Don't want to end up a corpse on your floor for the next nine hours."

He immediately frowned in confusion, "I don't understand?"

Buffy chuckled humorlessly, "Yeah..." She coughed, grimacing at the taste of blood in her mouth. “Neither do I.” She sighed, and changed the subject, not really wanting to go there at the moment. “Gotta name, or do I just need to keep referring to you as handsome stranger in my head.” ‘Okay, yep, I definitely lost too much blood.’

He looked away at her words, partially because he seemed to be genuinely shy and partially because he seemed torn on answering her. She could relate to that. She understood what it was like to need to hide who you were from people. She was never very good at it, but she remembered very clearly the fear of what people would think of her if they knew she was a superhuman freak.

“Hey,” She said, reaching a hand out to place on his arm. Thinking better of it when she noticed the blood coating it. “It’s okay, I get it.” He looked up, meeting her eyes and she shrugged. “I was never very good at the secret identity gig, but I certainly remember what it was like to need to hide who I was.” She chuckled, “Believe it or not, the U.S Government thought the Slayer was a myth until I caught them playing in my backyard.”

“I still don’t know what that is.” He said quietly, “A Slayer, I mean. I tried finding out from Jed, but all he said was that you work for an organization that hunts and kills monsters.” He paused, taking a deep breath, before asking. “Am I the type of…Do you kill people like me?”

He was being serious. She knew. But she couldn’t help messing with him a little. The truth of the matter was, she had no intention of going head-to-head with him even if she was at her best. If he was truly evil he would have acted already, especially with her weakened state. She also doubted he would have offered to help her heal or look quite as worried for her safety as he did.

She put her most serious face on and pretended to contemplate it for a minute. “Hmm, well you’ll probably need to pass my required oral exam to be sure.” Her eyes suddenly widened at what that must have sounded like, especially after the handsome comment. ‘Okay, this is the last time I’m losing this much blood in front of a hot guy and not just letting myself bleed out. Apparently, I really don’t know how to shut up when I’m this anemic.

She noticed his cheeks reddening and the look of shock on his face, so she blurted out the first question that came to mind. “Do you eat babies?”

A horrified look of disgust quickly replaced the shocked look, “What? No!”

“Do you like to bathe in the blood of the innocent?” She could tell by the suddenly offended look on his face that he still hadn’t caught on that she was messing with him.

“No!” he said, an irritated frown marring his face.

“Do you worship any deities that require you to make a human sacrifice yearly, biyearly, monthly, bimonthly, weekly, or biweekly?” Now he just looked annoyed, and it was getting harder for Buffy to keep a straight face.

“Are these questions actually necessary?” He asked, the annoyance clear in his voice.

An amused smile broke across her face, “Are you asking if these things actually exist, or if I actually think you do any of them?”

His look of annoyance quickly melted into one of amusement, the corner of his mouth turning up and a soft look coming into his blue eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before,” He admitted. His eyes roaming over her face. He seemed to come to a decision in that moment, because his next words were, “My name…my real one, it’s Clark.”

“Clark,” Buffy repeated, testing the name on her tongue. A small smile playing at her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Clark before.” Her eyes studied his face. “It suits you. I would tell you my name, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you already know it." She gestured with her chin. "And judging by the way your eyes keep seemingly monitoring my injury and heart rate, I'm guessing you have some kind of enhanced vision." She grinned at his stunned look, and shrugged. "So, let's see," she held up her hand counting off what his superpowers were, "Enhanced vision," she held up a finger. "Super strength," she held up another. "Those are two of the five senses." A third finger came up, "Enhanced hearing is probably the third." She frowned in thought for a moment, before saying, "Though you don’t strike me as someone who needs to stalk his prey, I’m betting you have that annoying ability to smell everything even if you don’t need to use it. So that’s four.”

Clark slipped down to where he was fully seated, blinking in surprise. "How…?” He swallowed, shaking his head an impressed look coming over his face. “Did anyone ever tell you, you're incredibly observant?"

"Kinda have to be in my line of work.” She shrugged, adding, “Though you did set off my spidey senses like a roman candle. A girl can’t really help but take notice when you register in the beyond-godlike-powerful status.” At his confused and worried look, she elaborated. “It’s part of the whole Slayer package, basically a long time ago a bunch of shamans used the essence of a demon to create a warrior. They chained a young girl to the earth and imbued her with it so she would have the strength and skill to fight all the wonderful things that go bump in the night.” She sighed, “For a long time there was only one girl at a time. One dies, another is called. That’s how it worked.” She gave him a small smile and nodded, “Until about ten years ago that is, me and some friends changed the rules.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a moment. “So, there you have it, Clark. I’m the longest living One girl in all the world with the gift and skill to fight the vampires, the demons, and forces of darkness. Except, I’m not the only one anymore.”

He blinked in surprise, studying her face more closely. “How old are you?”

Buffy bit her lip, not quite sure how to answer that without bringing up her resurrection. She sighed meeting his eyes, there wasn’t much she could do about it now, “Thirty-two.”

Clark sucked in a breath of surprise, “How is it that you—”

“Haven’t aged since I was twenty-one,” Buffy finished for him. When he nodded, she avoided his eyes while saying, “That’s kinda what happens when your friends resurrect you with a powerful spell and screw up the balance between good and evil.” She shrugged looking anywhere but at his face, that old familiar longing for heaven playing at her soul. She loved Willow. She really did, and after the whole Angelus incident they had grown much closer than they’d been in years. The resurrection and the price that Buffy was still paying however, was far too great to ever fully forgive. “Long story short, I can’t age anymore and if I die, I can’t stay dead.”

She coughed, the pain of the act making her vision narrow a bit. She could feel that her body was well on its way to mending itself but she had lost way too much blood. The familiar fogginess of a healing sleep was prickling her eyes and she widened them shaking her head to try and clear it. Cold dread filling her at the very thought of falling into a coma like sleep and having to relive all the crap she’s been through. It was one of the most horrifying feelings ever, to be trapped in her worst nightmares with no means of escape until her body fully healed. In a desperate attempt to keep herself awake she reached out and grasped Clark’s hand.

****<S>**<S>****

Clark watched her eyes widen in fear, before she reached out with a bloody hand to grasp his. “Please,” She pleaded. “Please don’t let me fall asleep.” He could see the beginning of tears of desperation prickling her eyes, “I know I need to, but…but sometimes it’s worse than dying.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the ship hull. "It’s...it’s okay if you can't. Just...just try."

He squeezed her hand, his heart filling with so much sympathy for this brave young woman. She hadn’t shown any true fear until this moment. Not when she had fought the drone, not when she watched him destroy it, not even when she was binding her own wound and already figured out a few of his abilities. She had even made a few jokes at his expense, but she had done them in such a way that he couldn't really take offense. She was an enigma to him; out of all the humans he'd ever met—besides his own parents, she had to be the least judgmental of them all. The only thing that seemed to truly scare her was her own memories, and that truly did break his heart. No one should be that afraid of their own past.

“How do you want me to help?” He whispered, as he watched her eyes begin to droop before flying open again.

“Tell me about yourself.” She whispered, her words coming out a bit slurred. “W-where are you from? How long have you been on Earth?”

He shifted, getting more comfortable before saying. “I grew up in Kansas, in a little town called Smallville. Beyond that, I don’t actually know. My ship landed on my parent’s farm when I was just a baby. They took me in and raised me as their own.” He told her a little bit more, about the farm, about some of the life lessons his dad tried to instill in him, why he was afraid of anyone finding out what he was, why he was on this ship in the first place.

Buffy smiled dreamily and hummed, “Sometimes I forget there’s still good people in the world. Sounds to me like you got really lucky with who found you.” She yawned, her words becoming more slurred. “Once I’m healed, I can help you look for answers.”

He blinked in surprise, a grateful smile coming on his lips “Thank you.” He said sincerely, adding, “And I did, my dad could be pretty hard on me at times, but—”

“He was scared of anyone finding out what you are.” She finished, her voice growing softer and more distant. He squeezed her hand lightly and her eyes flew open as she shook her head again trying to force the sleep away. She continued, as if she hadn’t almost just lost consciousness. “Must have been pretty lonely, not having anyone to confide in.”

“It was.” He agreed quietly, his eyes scanned her brain activity and seeing she was quickly losing her battle against sleep, he added, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep you awake much longer.”

She smiled sadly, her eyes drooping to mere slits. “I know, worth a try though.” She sighed through her teeth. “Just do me a favor, don’t…don’t let me wake up alone. It’s worse w-when I–”

She never finished, as her body and mind finally succumbed to a much-needed rest. Her heartrate dropped to what would be considered dangerous for a normal human. The blood slowing in her veins and allowing for the natural healing process that came with her abilities.

He watched her for a long time. Too afraid to move for fear that if he left her side her heart would suddenly stop. Oh, he knew what she told him was the truth. It was just difficult for someone like him to believe. Spending most of your life being different and watching people die. Knowing you could do something but unable to for fear of the world finding out what you really are. It made him feel helpless more times than not.

Clark had spent a long time picking his battles. Deciding who to save based off of his ability to get away with it. He hated not being able to help everyone, and he hated even more that humans as a whole were so easily guided by their fears of the unknown. It was more than that though, there was so much pain and suffering. He could hear it even now if he focused. Screams, cries for help that nobody heeded, laughing cruelty and hysterical sobbing. It was all there, the sounds of the world were filled with so much hate, anger, and sadness it was deafening.

Maybe that’s why he was so taken with this beautiful girl in front of him. She didn't seem to possess the fears that so many of the people of this world did. The fact that she knew what he was and hadn't so much as blinked in surprise completely threw him. He knew it most likely was due to the life she lived and what she was, but it was such a refreshing moment. He reached out with his free hand and brushed a loose blonde strand away from her cheek. She was also incredibly sad and lonely. It was as plain as day in her eyes and on her face. She was worn down by whatever she had been through to the point that he imagined she tried not to sleep. The dark circles he could see under her eyes attested to that much.

He scanned her injury again, relieved to see the artery had healed almost completely. He sighed and let his eyes wander for the first time since he noticed she was hurt, spotting a discarded backpack near the entrance of the ship. He frowned, scanning its contents before rolling his eyes in annoyance. There was a first aid kit inside. ‘Why didn’t she tell him?’

Clark retrieved the pack and proceeded to dress her wound as best he could, disinfecting then using gauze and medical tape to secure a makeshift bandage. He undid the belt across her torso, no longer worried about her bleeding out.

He noticed her discarded weapon next. The strange looking axe he had seen in her travel bags. A child like curiosity he didn’t even know he still possessed came over him and he picked it up. It was surprisingly light and well balanced, the end of the handle itself was cleverly carved into a stake. He swung it a few times, smiling to himself at the way it easily sliced through air. He ran his finger gently along the blade and hissed in surprise, dropping the axe and taking several steps back, staring at the blade in a mixture of horrified disbelief. Blood welled up in the cut in his finger and he couldn’t help but study the red substance in fascination. He looked from the small cut to the axe several times, not quite processing what just happened.

“There is an energy source unknown to the Kryptonian Archives imbedded into the elements of the weapon.” A new voice spoke from behind Clark.

He quickly turned, coming face to face with an older man wearing robes. “Who…who are you?”

“There will be time for that later Kal El. First, we must get you and your friend away from human meddling. We’ve much to discuss.”

The man disappeared the next instant and Clark heard the engines fire on. He reached for the pack, throwing it over his shoulder. He picked Buffy up next hoisting her into his arms and grabbing her weapon at the same time. He didn’t really like the idea of it being near him considering what it was capable of, but he didn’t think she would like to wake without it nearby.

****<S>**<S>****

She was on the tower again.

"Dawnie listen, listen to me. I love you. I will always love you, but this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles... tell him I figured it out and...and that I'm okay. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong." Buffy reached out her hand cupping her sister cheek, tears welling in her eyes. "Dawn the hardest thing in this world...is to live in it. Be brave. Live...for me"

She turned running, not giving her sister another chance to object, and as she dove off the platform another voice penetrates her mind.

"I am your father Kal. Or at least a shadow of him. His consciousness."

Another voice, this one more familiar to her. "And Kal? That's my name?"

*FLASH*

She couldn’t breathe, everything smelt of decay and earth. She cried out in fear, paper thin skin breaking on hands as they assaulted her tomb. Satin tore as ragged nails snagged, wood splintered as her hands scrabbled for an escape, any escape. Dirt and soil rained down on her and she cried out again, choking and gagging as her mouth filled with the substance. She had to get out, had to push through. If she didn’t, she would never get out. She climbed, pushing through packed earth with strength. Strength, she remembered, she had strength. Always meant to be strong. Not allowed to break, because breaking means death.

The voice was back, the one from before, or was it after. She didn't know. She listened; it was easier to listen than to think of where she was. To remember the truth. She broke the surface, vomiting on the ground and squeezed her eyes shut forcing herself to listen to the voices, both of them soothing and quiet.

“You came from Krypton. A world with a much harsher environment than Earth’s. Long ago, in an era of expansion, our race spread out through the stars, seeking new worlds to settle upon. This scout ship was one of thousands launched into the void. We built outposts on other planets, using great machines to reshape environments to our needs. For one hundred thousand years our civilization flourished, accomplishing wonders”.

“What happened?

“Artificial population control was established. The outposts and space exploration were abandoned. We exhausted our natural resources, as a result our planet’s core became unstable. Eventually our military leader, General Zod, attempted a coup. But by then it was too late. Your mother and I foresaw the coming calamity, and we took certain steps to ensure your survival.”

Mommy, she had a mommy once. Her eyes opened focusing on her headstone and she screamed.

*FLASH*

She walked into the living room and froze. Her mom was on the couch unmoving, eyes opened. She remembered this. Her legs carried her over to the couch, but she didn’t panic, not like before. She fell to her knees grasping her mother’s cold hand. Tears welled in her eyes as she studied the lifeless face. “I’m so sorry mommy.” She whispered. “I should have been here. I’m so sorry.”

“Why don’t you put her in one of the resting chambers.” A voice said, causing Buffy to turn away from her mother’s body. Her eyes searching for the source.

“She asked me not to leave her alone.” A familiar voice replied. Why did she know that voice?

“Very well.”

*FLASH*

There was a leaky pipe somewhere in the factory. She could hear the drip…drip…drip as she stared in shock at what her own hands had done. The mutilated vampire on the table was barely alive. She had made sure that she had taken everything from him but his heart. She wanted to save that for last.

Her hands began to tremble in fear of herself, the blade she’d been using to carve him up slipping from her grasp. She stumbled over to the table on weak legs, reaching behind her and pulling out her stake.

“I guess you won after all.” She whispered, before driving it deep into his heart.

When the dust settled, she fell to her knees and vomited, unable to move. The voices were back and she closed her eyes trying to focus on the words.

“This is a Genesis Chamber. All Kryptonians were conceived in chambers such as this. Every child was designed to fulfill a predetermined role in our society; as a worker, a warrior, a leader and so on. Your mother and I believed Krypton lost something precious, the element of choice, of chance. What if a child dreamed of becoming something other than what society had intended for him or her? What if a child aspired to something greater? You were the embodiment of that belief, Kal, Krypton’s first natural birth in centuries. That’s why we risked so much to save you.”

“Why didn’t you come with me?”

“We couldn’t, Kal. No matter how much we wanted to, no matter how much we loved you. Your mother Lara and I were a product of the failures of our world as much as Zod was. We were tied to its fate.”

“So, I’m alone.”

Alone, just like her.

*FLASH*

She couldn’t move. All she could do was stare. Her Watcher was dead, his neck bent at an odd angle. Her legs went out on her and she fell to the ground as the sounds of battle played out around her.

“Buffy!” A familiar voice called; one she hadn’t heard in a long time. “Buffy, love, we gotta go.”

“But…but Giles?” She whispered weakly.

“I know Slayer, I know.” He sighed sadly, as he reached down and hauled her to her feet. “But he’s already gone. We can’t help him anymore. We need to get out of here, Red set the whole place ablaze.”

She looked up meeting bright blue eyes, “Spike?” She asked in confusion, before an arrow pierced her back.

*FLASH*

They were trapped. The wards broken enough to smoke them out, but not enough for them to leave.

“I’m not leaving you!” She argued.

“Bloody hell, why do you have to be the most difficult chit in the bloody universe! We don’t know if you can even survive fire and I’m sure as hell not risking it!” Spike yelled.

“Well, I know you can’t survive fire so I sure as hell am not leaving you to die alone!” She snarled. “We did this already, remember!”

He roared in frustration, kicking a nearby chair into the wall and it shattered into kindling. “I won’t let you die!”

“You don’t have a choice!” She fired back.

He stared at her in disbelief, before his expression melted into passionate rage. “The hell I don’t!” And then he grabbed her by the shoulders and smashed his lips against hers.

It only took a few seconds for her to respond and she melted into him. Her mouth opening, tongues caressing. She moaned, bringing him closer to her, remembering their dance, missing it.

He pulled away with a gasp, both of them panting for breath. “Now you listen to me! I love you; do you hear. I never stopped and never will. I will not watch you die. So, if today is my day to die, I’ll be damned if he gets to choose how.” And then he was kissing her again.

Unbeknownst to her he activated her emergency portal. The one that only allowed Slayers to travel through. He walked her backwards, without breaking contact and before she realized it, they were both inside. She pulled back in shock as she realized where they were. The familiar feeling of being sucked into nothing filling her. She screamed as she felt him dust.

*FLASH*

The abandoned home smelt like old urine and vomit, but she was much too tired and weak to care. She didn’t remember the last time she ate or drink anything, not that it really mattered. She was starting to become convinced she couldn’t die this way. It didn’t matter though, nothing did. She was a monster, just like her prey. Make a monster to fight a monster, that’s what the shaman did.

She was filthy, her hair greasy and limp, her eyes dull and lost, dirt coated her face and hands. What was the point of life if all it ever caused you was pain? She just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, or maybe just melt into the disgusting mattress she was laying on and forget that life existed. She had lost all hope, in fact she didn’t remember the last time she felt it. Had she ever? She heard the voices again, focusing in, trying to pull herself out of this pit of despair.

“No. You are as much a child of earth now as you are of Krypton. You can embody the best of both worlds. A dream your mother and I dedicated our lives to preserve. The people of earth are different than us, it’s true. But ultimately, I believe that’s a good thing. They won’t necessarily make the same mistakes we did. Not if you guide them, Kal. Not if you give them hope. That’s what this symbol means. The symbol of the house of El means hope. Embodied within that hope is the fundamental belief in the potential of every person to be a force for good. That’s what you can bring them. You will give the people of earth an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun, Kal. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.”

Buffy clung on to the words, trying to pull herself free from the dream. A man of hope, a symbol of goodness. She needed that, she desperately needed goodness and hope. She was close to breaking through the surface.

She heard Clark–now she remembered his voice, “Why am I so different from them?”

“Earth’s sun is younger and brighter than Krypton’s was. Your cells have drunk in its radiation, strengthening your muscles, your skin, your senses. Earth’s gravity is weaker, yet its atmosphere is more nourishing. You’ve grown stronger here than I ever could imagine. The only way to know how strong is to keep testing your limits.”

****<S>**<S>****

Buffy awoke with a gasp, her hands scrambling against the chest she was nestled against. The memories of her past still playing out in technicolor and surround sound.

"Hey, hey," A soothing voice said, gently lowering her to her feet. "It's okay, you're okay."

She stumbled away. Her eyes still not able to focus. The trembling in her limbs causing her to fall on all fours. She dry-heaved as a broken sob tore from her lips. She felt a warm hand gently rub her back, and she closed her eyes enjoying the comforting feeling.

"Will she be alright?” A new voice asked, the one from her dream.

“I don’t know.” She heard Clark answer, panic clear in his voice. “Buffy are you okay?”

"No," She answered, swallowing back another sob, breathing slowly through her nose. "But I will be, just…just give me a minute."

Just then a swirling portal opened up and an incredibly pissed off Witch in straight up Eskimo attire stepped out. She took one look at the blood covering Buffy and the distressed look on her face and came to a completely wrong conclusion. Her eyes went black and she snarled, “What the hell did you do to my friend, you son of a bitch!”

“No!” Buffy shouted as purple tendrils of magic shot from her friend’s fingers, hitting Clark square in the chest and knocking him on his back. He groaned in pain rolling onto his side in a fetal position. Buffy was up the next instant, charging Willow and breaking the spell.

“No Wills,” She panted grabbing ahold of her friend. “He’s a friendly.”

Her friend’s angry eyes faded back to green and she turned on Buffy, breaking her hold. “A friendly,” She said lowly, her eyes narrowing. “A friendly! So, what, you meet tall dark and powerful over there and think, ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be a great idea to fly away with him in a spaceship to the North Pole?’ Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Buffy frowned in confusion, “The North Pole? Fly?” She turned and looked at Clark in bewilderment. “You flew the ship?”

He shook his head, slowly getting back to his feet. “No,” He said, his voice coming out strained.

“I’m afraid, that was my idea.” A fatherly gentleman in robes said. “I didn’t want the people of Earth to commandeer the ship. I did not realize you had other methods of finding us.”

“Most humans don’t.” Buffy agreed, moving to check and see how hurt Clark was. “Willow’s special.”

She ran her hands down Clark’s chest looking for any serious damage. Thankful when she could find none. “You okay?” She asked him quietly, at his nod, she sighed. “Sorry about that. I have over protective friends.”

His lips quirked, “I noticed.” His eyes sparkled a bit. “It’s kind of funny actually. I’ve gone my whole life thinking nothing could hurt me physically and after just a few hours of meeting you, I find two things. That crazy looking axe of yours and as it turns out, your friend.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in disbelief at his words. “Wait, go back. Like nothing?”

He shrugged, “I had an oil rig fall on me once while I was rescuing some people. It managed to knock me out.”

Okay, so not just superstrength, more like godlike strength. She suspected as much with the vibes she got off of him, but it was still almost too much to believe. “Define what an oil rig falling on you means?” She said a bit light headed from the thought of just how strong that could be.

He cleared his throat, looking at the ground bashfully. “Well, it was on fire and the workers were trapped. Fire doesn’t hurt me, so I was able to get to them and get through the steel door they had locked themselves behind. I got them out and onto the helicopter, when the tower started to collapse. I was able to hold it up long enough for them to get away before the steel melted and the whole thing came down on top of me.”

Buffy looked at him in absolute wonder. “That’s…Holy shit!”

“Wait,” Willow swallowed, her face losing color. “Did this happen last year?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, eyeing Willow suspiciously.

“Oh Gods, I think I may have just attacked the Power’s new Champion.” Willow breathed, looking like she might actually faint.

Buffy frowned in confusion, “Wills, what are you talking about?”

Willow swallowed, looking suspiciously guilty. “About a year and a half ago me and Wes were digging through the old archives. We…we stumbled on a prophecy, a…a prophecy about a Champion. It said he will have the powers of a god with the soul of a man, but he will be neither.” Her eyes met Clark’s. “We came looking for you after we heard about the oil rig, we umm…Well, we were going to offer you a job, see if you were the real deal.” She shook her head, “But you had already disappeared.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Buffy asked, her eyes moving between Clark’s stunned expression and Willow’s nervous one. ‘How could they keep something like that from me?’

If anything, Willow looked even more guilty now. A sure sign that Buffy was not going to be pleased with her next words. “We umm,” Willow fidgeted with the sleeves of her coat, not meeting Buffy’s eyes. “We decided not to tell you because you…well, umm…you’re kinda in it too.”

“What the hell, Willow!” Buffy reeled as if slapped. “And you didn’t think telling me was a good idea?”

“W-we wanted to be sure. A-and there’s some other stuff in there. Stuff we thought might seriously wig you.” Willow said nervously.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, not at all impressed with the explanation. “Such as?”

At that moment a look of relief crossed Willow’s face, and she clicked on her headset. “Wesley, yeah, no she’s fine. Look–” But she never finished what she was going to say because Buffy marched over and ripped the earpiece out of her ear none to gently. “What are you…ow!”

Buffy turned and stared at Clark. The poor guy looked all sorts of confused. “Wesley,” She began sweetly. “Mind telling me what this lovely prophecy is about, and why you felt the need to keep it from me?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, before an irritated sigh reached her ears. “I’m not sure this the appropriate time–”

“The hell it’s not!” She barked. “That guy you and Willow were secretly looking for last year is standing right in front of me.”

There was another long silence, before he sighed again. “So, it’s happened then.”

“What’s happened? What the hell is going on?” She ground out, getting really fed up with the cryptic.

“Look Buffy, I promise to explain when you get here.” He paused, “But in the meantime I have both the U.S Government and Canadian Parliament threatening to go to war with us if they don’t find out what the hell happened to you and that spaceship.”

She groaned in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Shit!”

“My sentiments exactly.” He replied sarcastically.

“Okay,” She started pacing back and forth. “Okay, this is what were gonna do. Get Willow some coords in between here and the camp, preferably closer to the camp. Make it rural enough that any search and rescue they sent out could have easily missed it. Willow will port me there and we’ll leave evidence that I was dumped there.” She looked at Willow, who nodded in agreement. “I’m covered in enough DNA to make it plausible anyway–”

“Are you alright?” Wesley cut in; the brotherly worry strong in his voice.

“I’m fine Wes,” She sighed. “There was a security droid on the ship that wasn’t too happy with me boarding armed. Besides losing a lot of blood and a bout of crappy memories, I’m peachy with a side of keen.” She immediately noticed Willow’s kicked puppy look and rolled her eyes. Oh, that ever present black mark on their friendship. Always there but never talked about.

Wesley cleared his throat changing the subject, because that’s how the modern day Scoobies dealt with her immortality. Not that she blamed him. He’d been an outsider when she had been brought back. He hadn’t understood the extent of the damage Willow had caused until much later and even then, he didn’t understand. None of them could know what she’d lost. “It’s a sound plan, Buffy.” He paused, before asking, “And this mystery man of yours, do you think you can get him to come with you?”

Buffy met Clark’s wary eyes and shook her head. “I’ll talk to him, but I’m not forcing him into anything.”

“Of course,” Wesley agreed.

Buffy handed the earpiece back to Willow and approached Clark. “So, umm…I guess this is goodbye.” She looked at her feet fidgeting nervously, before adding, “I wanted to tell you…well…that I heard what your dad said while I was asleep, about why you were sent here.” She swallowed, meeting his curious gaze. “I don’t know if you’re this Prophesized Champion or not, but even if you’re not I…I think you could make a difference. I know humans are, well we’re stupid really. We’re selfish and prejudiced. We make mistakes and screw up. We hurt each other, even the ones we love, but we’re capable of much more than that. We love, we laugh, we learn and we grow. We are capable of change and acceptance; it just takes some of us time.”

She swallowed looking down, “But I also think this world desperately needs hope.” She felt the prickling of tears as she remembered how the thought of hope had been what finally pulled her out of the nightmare.

“I know I do.” She whispered, voice cracking as a tear slipped down her cheek. She felt a finger hook under her chin, gently lifting it so she was suddenly staring into warm blue eyes.

“Okay,” He said simply.

She blinked in surprise. “Okay?”

His lips quirked into a half smile. “Okay,” He repeated, before his eyes became serious again. “But I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that I’ll never be used to hurt people. I don’t think I could handle that,” He shook his head.

Buffy agreed immediately, “Of course, we’re not in the habit of killing humans. Demons and vamps sure, but humans we try to keep off the table.”

Clark nodded, “I assumed as much when you refused to give Hardy the program you guys use to monitor military chatter. You said you were here to protect humanity and not get involved with petty wars.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I feel the same, I just want to help people.”

Buffy nodded in understanding, reaching in her back pocket for her wallet and hoping not all her business cards were ruined. “It’s hard to refuse the call, when you know you can help, isn’t it?”

“Very,” He agreed as she found a card that hadn’t been soaked through with blood and handed it to him. Clark took it and put it in his pocket. “There’s one more thing,” He added. “I would like to keep my anonymity for the time being. I don’t think I’m ready for the world to know who I am yet.”

She smiled softly. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

He smiled then, a real genuine smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “Okay,” He agreed again.

“Buffy,” Willow interrupted. “Wes has a place.”

She sighed, part of her reluctant to leave. “That’s my cue. Call me when you get back to civilization okay?”

“I will.” He said with a nod as he watched her grab her axe, before she and her friend stepped through the portal and disappeared.

[Chapter One]

#man of steel fanfiction #man of steel #superman #superman fanfiction #superman crossover #clark kent #kal el #buffy x clark #buffy x superman #man of steel crossover #btvs #btvs fanfiction #btvs crossover #sarah michelle gellar #henry cavill #buffy summers #buffy summers x clark kent #this is totally self indulgent

11 notes · View notes

eldritch-elrics · 3 years

Text

svsss: the (not so) grand return of peerless cucumber

so a LOT happened in the chapters i read last night (44-49) and i have. SO many thoughts

not as many as i had right after i read but i really had to go to bed so i couldn’t write them all up.....

i put some reactions in individual posts but i’ll repeat them here!

first of all. shang qinghua. fucked off to the demon realm. like, good for him? but also. i want to see my boy

binghe keeping sqq’s body??? xue yang vibes OFF the charts

so I’M IN LOVE WITH THE MUSHROOM PLOT

i love how every so often sv will hit me with a twist that is SO up my alley that i just. lose it a little bit

HE MADE HIMSELF A CLONE BODY OUT OF MAGICAL MUSHROOMS AND TRANSPORTED HIS SOUL INTO IT.

i love mushroom shit and i love bodyswapping and. my god.

the fact that sqq has died twice and been forced to inhabit 3 different bodies??? wei wuxian wishes he were this cool

sidenote but the mental image of sqq doing radio calisthenics in the forest is really funny. or maybe it’s just funny to me because of the associations i have with this one time in japanese class?

sqq’s new body looking like a cross between shen yuan and shen qingqiu is really interesting and perhaps... symbolic....?

also hey does this mean he doesn’t have to deal with the cureless poison anymore. i assumed that it would be cured in his eventual sexytimes with binghe but hmmm i guess not!

the point where i really lost it was when he realized he was disconnected from the system. i know now that it wasn’t permanent but that was just so interesting, how much he hates it and wants it gone. which makes sense! even though it has helped him get out of bad spots at times, it’s a sign that he’s not really from this world. now i’m just really curious what’s gonna happen to the system at the end of the novel. maybe it’ll shut off once he achieves the “goal” it’s seemed to have set for him and gets together with lbh?

also i’m glad that sqq seems to have matured a little bit in terms of his people skills / problem solving skills? though uh. remains to be seen how he’ll act in front of binghe when binghe realizes who he is

it also seems like i was completely wrong about sqq’s motivations for sacrificing himself lol. lot more selfish than i thought? but it makes sense! fun twist

mxtx sure likes to have her protagonists execute plots that they don’t tell the reader about until after they happen lol (i’m thinking of the golden core transfer)

uhh back to plot reactions

love the running joke about peerless cucumber. also the demon names... six balls <3

also hold on a minute, peerless cucumber is a dick joke? lmao

thank you airplane for making it clear binghe has a big dick. absolutely vital character information

so i’ve said this before but sqq’s narration really CARRIES this novel. here i’m thinking specifically about his diatribe against sha hualing’s nails

shl is pretty fun. sexy evil lady!

sqq can turn his fan into a blade. nie huaisang get ON that smh

yang yixuan my beloved!

also HAHA i predicted that sqq’s super mushroom powers could help the xin mo thing and i was RIGHT

so sqq is just. SO invested in getting the plot back on track. like with all the harem members and stuff. it’s so funny because like bro. surely you’ve noticed by now that things are going very differently than in pidw. and also... you don’t WANT to go back on the pidw track bc that would kill you!!!

so the system reactivates when binghe turns up right? i am thinking about. the fact that when it tries to reboot it’s like “contacting customer service”

WHO IS CUSTOMER SERVICE.

it’s so interesting because like... obviously the whole system thing is so much bigger than just A Book? it’s even got airplane trapped inside it. and he’s the fucking author! who is running this thing? and for what purpose?

sqq listening in on the gossip about how lbh is DEFINITELY obsessively in love with him was SO funny. poor man

so binghe. he has become so COLD

i don’t like it :(

once more. my dude go to therapy.

wait also random but sqq has a beard now and for some reason that’s so funny to me

life at the palace seems terrible lmao no one is doing ok

smh, mxtx protags keep dying and staying dead for huge amounts of time and then coming back in different bodies

the fact that binghe’s happiest memories are training with sqq :(

THE FACT THAT BINGHE IS ABSOLUTELY SHIT AT KISSING

my god. that entire scene

went from “awwww headpats” to “AAAAAAAA”

the fact that the system congratulates him i’m sjkdhgjhsdhgjsds poor sqq.... didn’t ask for this shit.......

after 50 chapters, he’s finally realized he turned the male lead gay <3 say goodbye to all those funny oblivious moments!

i had to stop there because it was way too late at night but wow. we shall see how this relationship progresses

i can’t see it improving anytime soon but at least sqq knows lbh likes him now???

i had a LOT of thoughts last night but now i’m pretty much just like. i really need to see where it goes before i make any judgements on bingqiu

rn i’m not a big fan because 1. sqq is so wildly uncomfortable (understandable lol, even if lbh thinks it’s just a dream) and 2. lbh is very obsessive and that’s not really my favorite trope. but like it’s obviously not meant to be a healthy relationship, at least definitely not right now, and i do like some good fucked up romance! i’m excited to see the developments where sqq realizes what his real feelings are

i’m also fairly neutral on binghe as a character atm. his main personality traits seem to be “obsessed with sqq” and “trying not to die from evil sword qi poisoning” and i don’t find that all that compelling? between him and lwj i have to say that mxtx’s love interest characters are not really my favorite, though i wouldn’t say i dislike either of them.

furthermore i’m slightly concerned with how lbh’s “i’m the main character and i get what i want” attitude is gonna affect the romance. i know there’s some dubconny stuff later which i can’t say i’m excited for but i am excited to see how binghe’s character is gonna develop in general

my aspirations for bingqiu is that they’re both able to eventually break free of the expectations of the system

because, look at this from sqq’s pov. there’s this ai in your head that has, for literal years, been steering you towards a romance that you (at least outwardly) don’t want. isn’t that fucking terrifying? i love it. the system (at least how i see it) has been bending the established plot of the world in order to make this happen. it’s like fate but you can see the gears turning.

and even if sqq does end up liking lbh back, can you imagine the existential crisis of like. wondering if he really CHOSE to get with binghe or if he was somehow compelled to by the system which acts based on binghe’s emotions?

i think that would be so interesting

however what i think is Actually going to happen (based on that one time when airplane was like “hey cucumber, uh, is lbh just a character to you or is there more...”) is that sqq is gonna realize that he’s had a bit of a crush on binghe since reading pidw and is only just now dealing with his internalized homophobia. so him getting together with binghe has less strings attached

i think there’s some opportunity here for a commentary on the soulmate trope? because svsss is just so steeped in themes about agency and fate. i think that would be really cool but we’ll have to see. i feel like the ending is gonna be simpler and happier than i want it to be but obviously i cannot make any judgements yet! i’m just having Thoughts :)

so, i also read one of the extras (the one where he goes with lqg to battle succubi) because the translation i’m reading recommended it! it was pretty fun

sqq SO clueless. like i get it, he doesn’t think he’s into anything other than Pretty Cis Women, but. sqq we’ll work on this

also ASKING LQG IF HE’S A VIRGIN. sqq literally stop

(that was so funny though)

liu qingge ACE RIGHTS

actually lqg’s outburst in this chapter was kind of bizarre and can be explained in a few different ways i think?

i really like the idea of him being aroace. thinks true love doesn’t exist etc

i feel like the intended implication of lqg’s outburst is that he’s realized madame meiyin is referring to binghe and is like “holy shit no sqq can’t be with Him”

maybe lqg is just homophobic?

but i. also kind of wonder if lqg is gay and in love with sqq? and is just putting up the “such deep love doesn’t exist” thing because he really doesn’t want sqq to know

there was that whole line where the succubus was like “well you’re not his soulmate you don’t know” and it made me think

on the other hand i can’t really see lqg liking sqq that way; they seem to have more of a Bro Bond

then again lqg does keep fighting binghe for sqq’s sake

either headcanon is fun! i’d be excited for more insight into lqg in general i think

#my god this is long #svsss #svsss spoilers #finn reads scum villain #my post

13 notes · View notes

seulgiology · 4 years

Text

caffeinated | bae joohyun

pt 1

pairings: cafe worker!irene x customer!female reader

words: 2.4k

genre: its some long ass smut

warnings: THEYRE FUCKING, cursing, bottom irene, top reader, car sex, very gay oof, overstimulation, orgasm denial, fingering, minor spit kink, dacryphilia, slight size kink, pet names, minor degradation

a/n: GIF IS NOT MINE, CREDIT TO ORIGINAL OWNERS! YER YER PART 2, the most smuttiest shit i’ve written so far but im here for it. honestly irene is such a bottom in my eyes, perhaps a switch, but i really love the thought of her being wrecked and ruined uwu. she acts so indifferent and standoffish with some people but ik she’s needy and clingy.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

You held the short woman against the front door of her car, hands roaming every dip and curve of her perfect body. Her lips were on your neck, pressing kisses along your throat as your head was thrown back, breathing heavy and heart pounding at the feeling.

Before that happened though,

Joohyun made haste of her apron and quickly gathered her belongings, closed the store and did whatever necessities that had to be done. The nervousness and excitement of hooking up with the cute stranger from the cafe made her stomach jump, but the latter kept her going. She pushed open the back door that only allowed employee entrance and softly closing it behind her, the crisp air of late October making its way through the opening of her jacket.

“I thought the place closed at 6 p.m., not 6 a.m.” You startled her with your snarky greeting, not even seeing you leaned against the chipped paint of the old shop, radiant in the neon lights of the neighboring shop.

She playfully rolled her eyes, and walked up to you saying, “Impatient are we? I’m seriously so sorry I could’t come out here quick enough, but I’m not trying to lose my job, hon.”

You pushed off the wall and come face to face with her, this time, no counter separating your interactions or your own doubt. She looks up at you, pretty lips slightly parted, waiting for your next move. “By the way,” You start, bringing your hand up and twirling your fingers around her dark locks, slowly rising it up as you speak. “My name is Y/N.” She knew she didn’t need to say her name because it’s always on her apron she wears during work. You reach somewhere near the roots and lightly tighten your grip, letting her know that you’re the one in control. Her soft whimper reaches your ears and you look at her in delight as her eye flutter at your ministrations.

You lean down a steal your first of many kisses of the night from her.

Her lips came nothing close to what you dreamed about; her chapstick smeared across your lips, but you didn’t care because the feel of them against yours were pure heaven. They were so delicate and cushiony, yet you couldn’t savor it for long as you were hungry for more of her delicious taste. Your tongue snaked past her lips and she greedily accepted it, a needier sound resonating from her and the pooling in between her legs were ruining her underwear. Your hands left her smooth hair and instead pushed her stomach to move her back against the wall, never leaving her lips.

Once against the wall, you circled around her hips and down to the roundness of her ass, squeezing hard at the suppleness of it. You relished in more of her sounds and tapped the back of her thighs and she jumped into your waiting arms, hers gripping your shoulders for support. You swear out loud, but more to yourself at how light and tiny she is in your arms.

You press against her, the prominent belt buckle you’re wearing pushing right against her clit, the tiny bundle of nerves sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She whines in your mouth and tries to roll her hips back down on you to feel that same jolt, you smiled against her at her desperation.

She was the first to break the kiss and you mindlessly chased after them, your eyes still closed. You peeled them open, a frown on your face at not feeling those addicting lips on yours. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were shining with your sloppy make out session. She murmured about how cold it was getting, and that her car was parked towards the end of the parking lot. The sun was long gone so you only had whatever illuminated the parking lot as your guide towards her car. You had no problem carrying her light form and shushed her complaints of being heavy with a smothering kiss.

And that’s how you both ended up.

“I thought you were cold?” You panted out, her kisses on your neck never letting up. “My keys are in my pocket.” She continued her assault without a moment wasted, not caring that you’re reaching in her jacket pockets and pulling out the million-and-one key-chains. You pressed the unlock button and you grinned at the sound it made. You put her down to her feet and opened the back car door, you getting in second.

You barely closed the door behind you before she was tugging at the collar of your shirt and pulling you on top of her. You pulled back from her and kept her from rising up with your hand on her shoulder and the other removing your jacket. “Y/N...” She whined up at you, reaching for your shirt. “What happened to patience hon? So needy.” She huffed out in mild annoyance as she began work on her own jacket, but her cheeks tinted at your accusation.

You didn’t waste anytime taking off her shirt and work slacks, admiring her figure as you go. She shivered from the the look in your eyes and pushed away at the insecure thoughts trying to plague her. It was all forgotten anyway when she felt your fingers directly on her throbbing clit and the other holding under her knee to keep her open. She gasped out a whimper, widening her legs for you.

“You’re soaked like this and all we did was kiss?” You stroked her pussy, circling your fingers up to her neglected clit and made sure to store the sound of her wetness forever in your mind. She had her eyes closed and was massaging her breasts at how good you were making her feel, moaning and moaning for more.

You hovered over her and placed your lips back over hers before plunging one of your fingers in to her wet core, her cries drowned out by your kisses. You roughly sucked on her bottom lip, her eyes screwed shut at now two fingers relentlessly thrusting into her. She mewled put your name, and rolled her hips along to the pace of your fingers, desperate for her release. “I wanna cum, Y/N please let me cum” She begged for you, and oh did it turn you on like never before.

“Look at me honey, let me tell you something.” She was panting now, holding onto your wrist flicking up into her and her eyes were glazed over in bliss, but she held your smoldering gaze. “I’ve wanted to have you under me, a panting, moaning,” curling your fingers repeatedly, you continued “pathetic mess for so long,” She wailed and you could tell she was close from her tightening her walls around you. You sped up your pace and rubbed her clit with your thumb, almost cumming yourself from the wanton moans she let out for you, pleading for you not to stop. Her thighs were trembling around you and you urged her to cum, adding another finger to her pleasure.

But you were wicked. You slowed down your pace, and she swore you were the devil when she slowly feels her orgasm being denied, but she still felt it there.

“I could only imagine what you’d sound like with my fingers so deep inside you, fucking you so good,” Your pace was slow and punishing, tears welling up at the corner of her eyes threatening to spill. You chuckled darkly at her, enjoying the sight.

You took the hand holding her leg and pinched her nipple before taking the hard bud in your mouth, sucking on the soft and taut skin like you were born for it. “Are you gonna cum on my fingers doll? Gonna make a mess all over my hand and this seat?” You rested your head in the crook of her neck and sucked dark bruises over her porcelain skin, easily finding the sweet spot below her ear.

“Oh- fuck, I can’t. Please let me cum” She had her bottom lip between her teeth, holding in her cries as a few tears rolled down her pretty face. You gave in and slid the hand on her breasts down to her clit and rubbed hard and fast, the fingers insider her picking up their previous pace. “I wish you could see yourself, pretty girl. Already so fucking ruined and I’ve barely even started.” She raked her nails down your clothed back and bunched it in her fists, and the stinging sensation only prompted you to send her over the edge with whispered praises in her ears.

She screamed your name and you kissed the tears of pleasure rolling down her dough cheeks. You immediately pulled you fingers out and sucked off her essence looking right in her eyes, moaning at the taste, Joohyun watching you and instantly feeling the arousal pooling up again.

She watched you pop your saliva coated fingers out your mouth and waited for them to enter hers. Her lips wrapped around yours and she closed her eyes and fawned in the way you called her a good girl for taking them down her throat. You pulled the digits out and kissed your way down her body, sucking and kissing as you go. You reached your destination over her soaking pussy and pushed her legs open and holding the backs of her thighs. She leaned up on her elbows and glanced down at you in between her legs, wanting to watch you eat the life out of her.

You ducked down maintaining eye contact for a maximum of 5 seconds as you gathered spit on your tongue and let it drip on her cunt, making her wetter than before. You licked a thick line up her sensitive heat and moaned into her, never before tasting something as delicious as Ms. Bae Joohyun. honey. she was so fucking sweet on your tongue, you never wanted to taste anything again. You circled your arms around her thighs, forcing them to stay open.

Joohyun had no choice but to accept what you gave her, flopping back on the seat moaning loudly and whimpering from the slight sensitivity from orgasming just 2 minutes ago. You fucked your tongue in and out of her core, licking into her velvety walls before licking up and sucking on her clit before doing it all over again. The receiver could barely form coherent sentences, back arching off the damp seat and hands fisted in her own hair.

You flicked your tongue against her and brought her to her second orgasm of the night, stars behind her eye lids from squeezing them so tight. She thought she could catch a break but your tongue never stopped it’s assault on her sensitive womanhood. She was the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen, the neon lights giving her an out of this world look. You watched her beg and fall apart underneath you, her hand tugging at your head, not knowing whether to push it away or keep it there from. You lifted your head off her cunt, but not before replacing them with three of your fingers, pumping them in her at a tantalizing speed.

You looked at her hungrily, loving the way she cried at the overstimulation and the pleasure and pain it brought her. She sobbed and moaned, but her body betrayed her words, her hips rolling on your fingers and her continued arousal leaking out of her, so desperate for another release. “You’re such a good girl for me baby. So, so good.” You praised, then lightly kissed her thighs back up to her engorged clit, taking it into your mouth and circling your tense muscle around it. She tried to watch you through her tear-soaked lashes and listened to the slurping sounds you made.

You reached your unused hand up and wrapped them around her throat, applying the right amount of pressure to make her feel light-headed. She held both hands around the wrist around her neck to keep her self anchored to this world, because she knows for a fact she’s going to pass out when she comes.

Her body shook and this orgasm was building up fast and hard. This was unlike the others and she moaned a high-pitch moan, over and over, hips bucking into your mouth uncontrollably. “Come on baby, cum for me, I want you dripping down my face.” You encouraged her, knowing you put her through denial and overstimulation, you just wanted to finally reward her. You sucked harshly on her clit and curled into her g-spot one last time before she was seeing white and the entirety of your face was wet. She sobbed and whined through her orgasm and fell limp against the back seat.

You cautiously licked her through her comedown, amazed that she squirted all over you like that. You found an unused tissue from the passenger seat pockets and wiped your face.

Joohyun was sound asleep, probably passed out from such an intense orgasm. She was the epitome of an angel laying there in her naked glory, full breast rising and falling with every breath and her smooth skin shining from sweat.

You pulled your jacket back on and began dressing her in her clothes. You kept the underwear for yourself. She stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes at you, completely fucked out and sedated.

“Well rise and shine pretty girl, how are you feeling? Was it too much?” You cupped her cheek and she keened at your touch, sighing into your hand. “It was everything I needed and more, Y/N. I’m embarrassed to say this but nobody’s ever made me feel as good as you did.” She tiredly smiles up at you before contently sighing to herself.

She was flushed red and dozing off again but this time you laid her against you, letting her curl up onto your slightly bigger form, her tiny body wrapped up on top of you. Her head laid on your breast, a makeshift pillow for the woman sleeping soundly in your arms.

You leaned back against the window, closing your eyes in agony, knowing that you completely neglected your needs and are still so wet and aching in your pants.

But you’d do anything for the cafe worker in your arms. She’s always going to come first in any and every way. So instead of dwelling on your want, you massage your fingers in her hair and drift to sleep with her.

328 notes · View notes

komoryriku · 4 years

Text

Queering KH: Part 2

How to Queer this Anime Game? By me, an American nerd lol

Pictured: Dream. Drop. Distance. Sequel. 8)))

What is Queering

I’m so excited to talk about this okay this is literally the only fun thing I get to do as an English major anymore lmao.

“Queering a text” is the academic term for taking a given text and extracting the queer subtext of it, or applying a queer reading to it. It is taking a piece of literature, film, or art and reading into it for the gay coding. It is an especially important tool for reading old literature written during periods of extreme homosexual oppression, wherein the author would be forced to hide hints of homosexuality under layers and layers of superficial text.

Pictured: Sora and Riku battling Ursula as she means to wreck their ship, mirroring the disaster that Sora’s friends Eric and Ariel (lovers) faced at sea.

As a post-structuralist, I am also here to inform you that every text is made up of intertextual influence. This means whether the JK Rowlings of the world intended it or not, their characters may well be queer coded because of the unconscious influence of homoerotic customs in our culture that have permeated the text. It’s why people speculated that Newt Scamander was gay, because he showed little interest in Tina and preferred to focus on his beasts, which is not normative for a male protagonist in straight media. People likewise considered that Merida from Pixar’s Brave might be gay, because she had no interest in dating men and wanted to live a wild lifestyle traditionally associated with masuculinity, things that are pretty in line with lesbian coding. And let me tell you, lgbt claimed Queen Elsa IMMEDIATELY for very good reason. Pretty much everything about her journey, purposefully or not, makes for an strikingly overt gay metaphor. Let it Go is a coming out song for a woman suffocating under normativity all her life, deal with it.

Same, Elsa.

Oh whoops I accidentally pasted this picture of Riku here.

Keep Cultural Distinctions in Mind

Something else important I want to point out is that different cultures are- different lol. They are going to vary. What is queer coding here is not necessarily queer coding in Japan. A man presenting femininely in American media would certainly get him coded as gay. A bishonen in an anime though? Not so much. Men bathing together in Japan is common practice so that would mean nothing gay over there. In America however, you have things like this vine.

In which 2 dudes are chilling as far away as possible from each other in a hot tub to prove they are not gay lol.

So when I say the male members of Organization XIII bathe together, it means literally nothing in a Japanese context.

But let me tell you this: homosexual mlm tend to enjoy bathing with other dudes. Sexual attraction is sexual attraction no matter where you go. So how would you queer code a Japanese character as gay in a hot tub context?

By American logic, if the straight thing to do is sit 5 feet apart in a hot tub, then the inverse, the gay thing to do, would be 2 men sitting very close together in a hot tub. So if I were to code 2 American male characters as gay in a hot tub context, that is what I would do. But if I really wanted to hammer it home, I would ALSO have them blushing so there is no straight explanation for their closeness.

And for a Japanese character, for whom bathing with men might well mean nothing, I’d definitely have them physically blush, so that you know it does NOT just “mean nothing” to him...

Oh look at that. Amano went out of her way to draw Roxas blushing at the concept of bathing with men. So when I say “the members of Orginization XIII bathe together”, you know that means something to Roxas, cuz the coding tells us so. There are indeed certain ways you can depict a shonen being either interested in or at least affected by that idea. You just have to mind those codes telling you what the character really feels, especially when they can’t really say it.

Speaking of blushes, Amano uses them a lot.

They’re a pretty effective tool for hiding gay coding into your characters cuz an anime character might blush for any number of reasons, from being flustered by their crush,

to being flustered because they don’t have a crush.

If you’ve ever translated Japanese media, (I haven’t, but I have friends who do), you know that Japanese is very vague which means you need the whole context to properly understand a scene. It’s a similar situation with queer coding. Consider this scene of Roxas blushing.

If Roxas felt positively about the insinuation that he and Xion are holding hands, how might one code this? Well, if he’s feeling really excited about it in a positive way, you might draw him smiling or expressing flattery on his blushing face. However, Roxas reacts negatively, with a frown on his blushing face. This insinuates he does not like this idea at all, especially since he also shuts it down right away in his dialogue.

But you might say “Well how do we know he isn’t just shy?” to which I say- well we can’t know. That’s the whole point of queer coding in literature. It is to say a character is queer but without actually saying it, to give plausible deniability for safety. It is to suggest a character is queer but without any confirmation. It does not mean that the character isn’t queer, however. It just means it cannot be confirmed by the text alone. However, a bold text that is very determined to have hidden queer characters without any straight explanations, will provide coding that has very little or no straight explanation.

Back to the Roxas and Xion dialogue^. This scene alone cannot confirm or deny anything. As I explained however, the suggestion that Roxas is not straight IS there. Considering the whole context, also, this scene is another piece of “evidence” to add to the pile of suggestions that Roxas isn’t straight. This coupled with the bathing panel, and this panel of him admiring Axel, his male mentor, with deep flattery during his first day of adventuring, all exist.

Roxas does not express negative sentiments in his blushing at men, nor does he say anything dismissive to them. When he blushes at Xion’s comment, however, it is with a negative reaction. Consider also that if the author wanted Roxas to appear straight, she would present them in ways that allude to straightness and NOT in ways that allude to queerness. Roxas would not do suggestively queer things like blush in flattery at Axel calling him special and then dismiss Xion’s suggestion that they are holding hands if he were simply coded as straight. Queering a text sometimes requires a lot of critical thought like this. This is because again, these things are hidden, and sometimes hidden really well so that unsuspecting straight people will not even consider the queer suggestions. This is one of the advantages Nomura has in his favor with Kingdom Hearts: by making it so convoluted, the gay text can be forward, strong, and blatant but remain undetected by straight powers. This keeps the series safe from oppressive scrutiny. Characters like Namine and Xion can exist as literal illustrations of compulsory-heterosexuality. And people will still think Sora and Riku are straight.

Even if I don’t know all the queer codes Japanese culture might specifically have, (and I do not, I do not live in Japan nor have any semblance of what that is like beyond what my friends who have lived there can tell me, and what I can research while sitting in my pajamas in Kentucky lol), there are certain things that are rather universal. Blushing, physical contact, lingering gazes, etc etc. Attraction is attraction and certain body language and other physical symbols will translate and will travel. So that’s the majority of what I will have to focus on.

But I do want you to know that rainbows are still gay in Japan.

Finally I also want to express that cultural intermingling is a thing. We do not live in bubbles, especially with the internet. Our cultures affect each other ALL the time. Although Kingdom Hearts is primarily a Japanese series, it is consciously tailored to appeal to both America and Japan. This is by design given the idea was to marry a Japanese hit like Final Fantasy with an American phenomenon like Disney’s media. This is why they take special care in minding the English translations and dubbing of the KH games (when they are able to do so, mistakes are still very often made and i hate it cuz they’re usually heterosexual-agenda-pushing “mistakes” =~=). The games are so intimately tied to both the Japanese and American cultures they are derived from which is part of why accurate translations are so important. And given what they would mean for queer audiences, what they represent for queer people makes accurate translations even MORE important. Some things get quite lost in translation, and some things are grossly added in translation. We will discuss that down the line...

A brief aside that I implore you to ignore:

On the subject of Roxas not being straight, I have heard of one really fun queer motif in Japanese media which is ”ryoutoutsukai (両刀使い)”, “the two sword fencer”: the dual wielding bisexual. Now- I do not necessarily think this is a means of coding Roxas as bisexual, and beyond that, from what I’ve heard in my research on bisexuality in Japan, certain age groups don’t even believe in bisexuality there. However, a love of more than one gender exists no matter who is willing to acknowledge it or not, and this motif is there. And Promisekeeper and Oblivion do rather fit the bill of representing homosexuality (Oblivion/Soriku) and heteronormativity (Promisekeeper/Sora and his childhood friend Kairi). So- while i don’t think it means anything, this fun idea is there~ I will say, however, that as far as I can tell, Nomura and his staff know exactly what they’re doing with their queer coding and are well connected to it in both cultures. So I mean- if any anime team would know bisexuality exists and how to code it, I firmly believe the KH team would, so. There is some food for thought for you~

Get ready for part 3, I hope you like TWEWY~ B)

#kingdom hearts #kh #soriku #sora kh #roxas #riku kh

71 notes · View notes

viterbofangirl · 3 years

Text

first line meme!

@fallynleaf said in her post to consider myself tagged, so I’m happily indulging in this lil’ ego boost! Thanks for the opportunity, m’dear! ^_~

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

NB- These are all unfinished and unposted WIPs. It behooves me to note that some of these are not at all recent. However, they ARE fics that have “first lines” at all, which is not necessarily a given as my Creative Muse is obnoxiously nonlinear in her inspirations.

~~~~~

1- The Gray Ghost had suffered some engine trouble somewhere on Interstate 65, so Mom and Dad hadn’t managed to make it to Chuck’s wedding. (Early Edition: ”Belly Up to the Bar”, a canon-compliant continuation of the episode “Occasionally Amber”, Gary/Toni except kinda not really because she’s totally pissed)

2- Oracle, Texas. 1878. A gnarled husk of a town still trying to deny that its glory days are past. (”Gunslinger”, my serious treatment/retelling of the Roger Corman western)

3- The gate clanged shut behind him, and Meng Yao took a deep, steadying breath. (MDZS: ”Leverage”, an Untamed AU based on inspired by pretty much continuing @littlesmartart‘s brilliant setup and concept)

4- Many, many nights would Jiang Cheng lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling and pondering the razor’s edge of chance he’d toed. (MDZS: an Untamed chengqing fic set post-canon, current working title is “Second Chances” but I don’t like it)

5- Napoleon Solo flipped though an outdated magazine with little real interest as he lounged in one of the chairs lining the lobby of the car rental establishment. (TMFU (2015): ”Girls Just Want to Have Fun”, a fic set in my “Eight Strapping Daughters” universe where it is currently 1987 and Gaby and Illya have had eight daughters, any of whom are capable of taking over the world... and all of whom are about to spend the day at a shopping mall)

6- He felt the phone vibrating in his pocket. (Sailor Moon: ”Moon Revenge”, a Minako/Kunzite bodyguard AU)

7- The Moon was visiting Earth. (Sailor Moon: ”No Miracle for the Likes of Us”- another working title- which is Venus/Kunzite-centric exploration of the end of the Silver Millenium)

8- Chibi-Usa hasn’t stayed very long after Helios departed. (Sailor Moon: ”Rebirth AU”- you guessed it... working title- a Minako/Kunzite-heavy-but-not-exclusive AU that deviates from the manga/SM Crystal canon after the end of the Dead Moon Circus arc where the Shitennou are revived and the events of Star never occur)

9- Monday, 7:00 AM: Alarm goes off.

Monday, 7:00:08 AM: Alarm thrown across room. (Sailor Moon: “Codename: Teen Idol ‘Dite”, a side arc set in the above AU where, lacking any catastrophic galactic conflicts to fight against, Minako is going out of her mind with boredom and takes an undercover job as an idol as part of a police/Interpol sting operation)

10- Normally, Salazar Slytherin took great pride in his self-control. (Harry Potter: ”Release”, a short Hogwarts founders one-shot involving a maddening magical construction project and a sudden bout of swearing)

11- It was the first truly warm day since winter had broken, and Salazar Slytherin wandered the grounds with no purpose or destination in mind, simply basking in the sunlight until he began to feel the chill of the dungeons recede from his bones. (Harry Potter: ”And Treat Them All the Same”, a Hogwarts founders story about Helga Hufflepuff’s background and why she feels very strongly about equal treatment)

12- Salazar Slytherin stared at the wardrobe for another minute before finally deciding to throw another fur over his fur-lined cloak, leather jerkin, and wool tunic. (Harry Potter: another one-shot Hogwarts founders fic with a teeny bit of Helgazar where the very cold-blooded Slytherin has to deal with a snowball fight, currently but not definitively titled “Snow Day”)

13- As the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Brooklyn burst through the thin stone crust encasing him, his awakening roar shifting into a yawn as he stared blearily at the skyline and tried to remember what century he was in. (Gargoyles: ”Return of the Time Dancer”, Brooklyn’s return to New York- family in tow- after his Phoenix Gate adventures)

14- The couple breaking their fast that morning were strikingly handsome, if perhaps past the most fashionable age. (The Scarlet Pimpernel, Pride and Prejudice: “Scarlet Impressions”, a crossover fic that pretty much unfolded itself when I a) crunched numbers regarding the dates and years of respective storylines and b) realized that while Lizzy and Marguerite would get on like a house on fire, Darcy’s only possible reaction to Sir Percy would be unmitigated horror poorly repressed due to the latter’s much higher social standing)

15- Paris really was lovely this time of year. (MCU: “Threads and Patches: Part One”, first part of a three-part Clintasha AU set after the events of Civil War and most emphatically *not* farm-family friendly)

16- The briny air filled her lungs to bursting, but she continued to draw in breath until it hurt. (Highlander the Series: “The Mad Viking Saga”... because, frankly, EVERYONE should have an Immortal™ self-insert character and I refuse to apologize or feel ashamed of mine)

17- “Your Highness? The oracle is here.” (Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas: “Sinbad and the Garden of the Hesperides” a sequel to the animated movie that actually should be titled “Proteus and the etc., etc.” bc it’s mostly about him and giving him the ending I think he deserves, a.k.a. an OC love interest and a chance for adventure while on a quest to save his city from a plague)

18- Bare feet pounded on the hot, rough pavement as Sinbad dashed around another tight corner. (Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas: “Fast Friends”, an eight-chapter prequel telling the story of how Sinbad and Proteus met and grew up together, wherein each chapter progresses with each year they know each other from when they meet to when Sinbad leaves)

19- Reed was well-known as your stereotypical absent-minded professor. (Fantastic Four: “Shut Up and Dance With Me”, a Reed/Sue fluffy one shot where Reed is adorable because fight me)

20- The spaceport on Aruus Minor reeked of fuel, welding torches, and sweaty coveralls, but it was a welcome change from the recycled air of the Lambda shuttle. (Star Wars Legends Expanded Universe (BITE ME DISNEY): “Everything Unsaid”, a Luke/Mara chance encounter set during the we-share-an-unbearable-degree-of-compatibility-to-say-nothing-of-the-overwhelming-sexual-tension-but-both-of-our-lives-are-kind-of-a-mess-and-neither-of-us-feels-ready-to-deal-with-our-feelings-for-each-other-so-we’ve-individually-decided-to-just-ignore-said-feelings-while-simultaneously-being-drawn-to-each-other-whenever-we’re-so-much-as-in-the-same-fucking-hemisphere years)

~~~~~

WHEW! Well, it sure was fun to tease all my followers with a taste of fics that will neverrr be finished! As far as patterns go, seems I tend to prefer either set-up paragraphs or punchy one-to-three-liners intended to trick intrigue people into reading further. My favorite is definitely #9. It’s a diary/log of Minako’s day, and her POV is hilarious and sooooo much fun to write like that!

Anyone who wishes to participate should consider themselves tagged, and PLEASE TAG ME IF YOU DECIDE TO PARTICIPATE!

#fanfic #WIPs #mod's stuff #viterbofangirl thinks she can write #asks #my stuff

3 notes · View notes

rachelillustrates · 4 years

Photo

An Exploration of Kiliel

OKAY, fandom thoughts on my art blog because of Story Study.

My Wife and I finally watched The Hobbit movies, so I’ve finally gotten to Kiliel (..... ❤ ) and I have some headcanons/thoughts about Tauriel’s introduction to the story, the flow of their romance, and what’s important.

(So this will be part meta, part headcanon as I sort that out.)

What’s striking me right away - other than the fact that I came into these movies ALREADY shipping them and am damn pleased about it, thanks Tumblr - is that we are given.... well, bupkis on Tauriel’s motivations and backstory. And the person I’m watching these movies with, who I love very much, was quick to point out that her introduction and immediate positioning as a Romantic Female Lead could read very shallow to the casual viewer.

(Which I am not, thank the Gods.)

So, what of Tauriel’s backstory and deeper life goals? Digging into the fandom, I found notes that her parents were killed by Orcs when she was young, and that Legolas took her under his wing afterward (making him her mentor, and thus making the idea of their romance even less attractive to me, since that means he would hold even MORE sway and authority over her and there would be very little equality for her there. Also, Gimli).

But that’s it. And we’re not given that in the main plot of the movie at all.

What we are given is the information that she’s conscious of the dangers to the outside world, and wants to protect her people by stopping those dangers at the source, despite contrary orders from her King.

So what I think the movie intended, with that scene where she talks to the Elvenking about her concerns and how she immediately chooses to go after the Dwarves later - motivated primarily by the thought of saving Kili - is that Tauriel has a deeper drive to help save the whole world from the threats she sees to it. Because of what happened to her parents, because she knows the spiders are coming from outside their borders, etc. The featurette “Tauriel: Daughter of the Forest” says of her “She has a great curiosity of other races, of the world outside - she literally hasn’t been anywhere...” (mentioned in part 2, part 1 is here). So, to me, her motivations for leaving Mirkwood include that - as well as saving this Dwarf she feels an inexplicably deep bond with already.

On that note, I wish they had gone a bit deeper into her and Kili's immediate connection than what we were shown. I do appreciate how she insisted on fending for herself, in their Battle Couple introduction, and how Kili immediately accepted her for who she is - the trousers joke was, admittedly, a little uncomfortable for me due to personal reasons, but I think it could be read as him meeting her aggression in battle with aggressive flirting, and in that light, her positive response to it (in what she said to Legolas, and in returning to check on him of her own volition) makes a lot more sense to me. And while I really enjoyed and understood the Feast of Starlight scene, those less romance-genre minded than myself may not have understood that as deep "enough” (for more of the intentions of the plot in that scene and the take the actors had on it, click here. Includes a hysterical Leoglas moment at the end!).

Rewatching it, I do see and recognize how deep their connection is and how meaningful what they choose to share of themselves is - especially with the idea of Kili honoring and respecting (nay, being attracted to) her ferocity, and the fact that most of her kin probably don't automatically respect her for such things. The sexism among the Elves is not as bad as it is with humans, but it is still there. Who knows how much Tauriel has had to fight for her place as the Captain of the Guard, being a woman. And again, it probably wasn’t as bad for her as it was for, say, Eowyn - but no matter how much space there is for women to step up and be active agents of the story in the mythology of the world, Tolkien didn’t choose to make women part of the action, actively, most of the time. So the world still reads as a mostly Men-at-War, Women-at-Home place. And that has to have had an impact on Tauriel’s life. And in addition to how charming Kili is, just as himself, the fact that he sees that part of her, respects her and admires her FOR it, must hold a lot of weight.

Another part of what I've seen, in re-immersing myself in the fandom now, has been this idea that both Kili's culture and Tauriel's culture have an idea of soulmates, the One person who, when you meet them, shakes you to your core, and you are never the same again. I really think that's what the writing was going for (see Evangeline Lily’s comments in part 2 of “Tauriel: Daughter of the Forest,” particularly), but it wasn't given the space and depth that it needed to be apparent on surface level of casual viewing.

So, from my fangirling perspective, I imagine that they both felt that right away, but were so surprised by it - because of the unexpectedness of their circumstances, and the animosity between their peoples- that they didn't know how to handle it, and fell into awkward humor, and slightly clumsy attempts to get to know each other as they tried to sort it out.

I imagine that Tauriel's outright denial of any connection to Legolas, and immediate acceptance of his father's racism toward her in that context, was also swayed by her newfound feelings. They (Tauriel and Kili) probably did talk more, as well, about their families and their deepest dreams after the Feast of Starlight scene cut off. We just aren’t given that information.

(Anyone else for a romantic adventure Kiliel-centric mini series?)

Then of course, we are given the healing scene. What I got from this, beyond their romance, was that Tauriel always looks to be helpful. When she takes the athelas from Bofur, she looks like she’s had a revelation. She realizes she can help, she can heal Kili, and that gives her an outlet of action for all the confusing feelings she’s having. She goes right into business mode about that - and Kili, all pained and fevered, barely realizes it’s her. But when he does, he looks at her in wonder (with a fever-dream angelic view of the magic around her, even! Sidenote - I LOVE how messy her hair was. Both beauty and realistic adventure life). And she looks back at him with such serious kindness, telling him to trust her, without words. Of course, he does....only to then believe that she wasn’t there at all, and spill his heart out to this apparition of the person he already knows he loves.

And in that, he is so sure that she’s beyond his reach, even though he knows he loves her already. Even though as he talks about how she’s on another level of existence than his, his action is still to reach for her hand, still reaching for her, despite the words he’s saying. He still wants to believe it is possible - that they are possible - even as he’s trying to accept that they can never be.

Which, of course, leads into the beach scene. After the whirlwind of surviving Smaug’s attack, too (extra shoutout to the writing there, regarding Tauriel and Bard’s children - she’s aware enough to realize that Bard’s son is the only one of the three of them that might have had any sliver of training for situations like this, because human misogyny, so she uses that to protect all of them - “Your sisters will die if we stay here,” etc. - but as soon as he runs off to help his father, she still makes the girls her priority, as well as the Dwarves. Headcanoning that if Kili had survived, and they married and moved into Erebor, she would have damn well taught those girls how to fight).

Anyway, back to the beach. I think my favorite part of that moment, other than the Heart Wrenching Perfection of what Kili says to her (and how it’s acted!), is that he has realized that she wasn’t a fever dream after all - that he did, in fact, say all those potentially embarrassing romantic feely-feels things right to her actual face - and instead of being embarrassed, he just GOES for it. He is that sure. Sure enough, that even when she can’t let herself reciprocate his feelings (even though she clearly does - and she doesn't say no, btw, she is interrupted by Legolas' arrival and thusly the reminder of her duty and her 'place') he then gives her the token from his mother, to let her know she’ll always be in his heart, no matter what she decides. And he almost doesn't, he almost leaves, but turns back in the last moment, in that desperate, loving attempt to try again. No matter how impossible it seems.

MY freaking heart.

Also, when Tauriel then learns of her banishment, she looks shaken at first - but quickly, almost relieved. See here, at about 39 seconds in. She has clearly been fighting against her own heart each moment since Kili came into her life - even though, as I mentioned before, he provides a grand excuse for her to go help other people beyond Mirkwood’s borders. And now, released from the obligations she has to her people, to her King, who doesn’t fully respect her anyway, she is free to do what she could not just moments ago. She is free to choose her own path - to follow her heart, and her ambitions to help the world.

Of course, she follows Legolas first - the path of least resistance being to follow her mentor and Prince. And I get from that that she’s shut herself off from her own emotions for so long - likely due to her parent’s death, early in her life - that she really doesn’t know what to do with herself, in that freedom, and in love. So, following her nearest authority figure, giving herself a moment to breathe and decide later, seems natural.

But, luckily, that path leads right back Erebor.

And unluckily, right into the tragic ending.

But first, she confronts the Elvenking (who has banished her, and therefore freed her, though that was not his intention) about his refusal to stay and help. His concern for his own people, again, will lead to them not being there to save the lives of others suffering in the world around them. And she’s not having that - in general, even if a large part of it is her love for Kili. The script focuses only on that love - with Thranduil refusing to accept that she really loves Kili, comparing what he imagines she feels to what he felt for his late wife, it seems - but there is so much in her whole narrative that has already pointed to her desire to help the whole world, even before she lets herself start feeling for Kili. And this moment plays right into that deeper motivation.

Of course, her story being a romance, finding and protecting Kili is her first priority. And sadly, that goes, as we know, badly.

It bothers me a LOT that she “had” to be damseled in the Big Fight. BUT. We at least get the strength of their connection before she gets trampled by Bolg (and the surety of her voice when she calls for him, and the focus that hearing her, and his calling back out to her, gives him - yes. It’s subtle, but its very strong and very there). And at least they get to see each other one last time - Kili knows, no matter what happens, she chose to come after him after all.

And all the emotion, in her watching him die, and him realizing what they’ve lost even though she did choose him.....ugh. My heart, again. They are both just so clearly broken - Tauriel so confused, not able to accept that its come to this, after she chose to find him, after everything. Kili so brokenhearted that after all his hoping - after she chose him back - they still can’t be together (not to mention the fact that he’s just lost his brother, too, the only other person we see him love as intensely as her). And then, in the last moments of (this part of) the fight, when Kili is gone and Tauriel is alone again, her pain is so great, her anger so clear, her love so deep, she is willing to use her own momentum and throw herself off the tower’s edge with Bolg, just to try and make for damn sure that he pays for what he’s done.

(I will forever maintain that the fact that that didn’t kill him - that SHE didn’t get to kill him - is a travesty. Especially with his murder of Kili, but also for the gross tongue thing. Very uncomfortable with what that implied.)

I’m gonna skip over the intervention of Legolas to save her life, cause that’s not important here, suffice to say that once again I am Pissed as Hell that they felt the need to damsel her so much. Sigh. I must assume, from a writing standpoint, that they chose to nerf her in this battle because she’s never been involved in war like this - fights to protect Mirkwood, yes, but not War Battle. HOWEVER, there are ways for them to have written through that and not made her look so weak. Especially considering that she is a seasoned warrior - AND had fought Orcs before, as we saw in “The Desolation of Smaug” - and between her and Kili, who one of Thorin’s strongest warriors, they should have at least been able to do better together. Crudmuffins! That, of course, would have messed with the outcome of the source material, but who of us would really be complaining? Hmm? (Sorry Tolkien.)

Their canon story ends, of course, with Tauriel having to come to terms with her feelings and Kili’s death all at once. As as much as I spent most of the movies harshing on Thranduil (except to honor how fabulous he is, stylistically and attitude-wise, and make as many Party Elk jokes as I could), i am glad they brought him back for this scene - not only that he gave Legolas a direction away from mooning over Tauriel, but that he got to help Tauriel accept what had happened (in his own blunt way). The way he watches her here, and looks at her, I feel like he’s really seeing her and accepting her as a person and not below him for the first time. I’m also headcanoning, since we know that Tauriel was orphaned and bonded with Legolas soon after (as her mentor - and honestly, I read their relationship as more of a broship/sibling situation), I feel like she was taken under the wing of his household - not because he approved, but because it was the Right Thing and probably looked good to his people, even if he couldn’t fully accept her due to her heritage. I also feel like the fact that she asks him to take the love away from her, since it hurts so much, also points to a more parental role than he would admit. If your heart was broken, who else would you ask to take those feelings from you - at that first heartbreak - than a parent?

But of course, he can’t - all he can do is finally admit, despite his earlier insistence otherwise, that her love for Kili IS real (I feel like he might have gone through something absolutely similar with his wife’s passing - finding her falling in battle, mourning over her body). And that smashes any hope she had that she could keep denying how she feels - it passes over her face, visibly and physically, that shock that he’s admitting it, then frustrated realization that if it’s real, she can’t deny her feelings anymore and can’t close her heart to it, and then just pure pain again as she realizes what she had and the full measure of what she’s lost.

And then she kisses him, as if she’s sealing that love and acceptance - the only time, super duper heart-stabbingly tragically, that she’ll ever get to you know, according to this version of the story.

I can only hope that afterward, Tauriel chose to honor herself and Kili’s memory by continuing to help the world at large, in her exile. And that she surprise and “oh shit”-ness of Thranduil’s expression upon realizing that an Elf could truly love a Dwarf means that he will be kinder to Legolas when he brings Gimli home.

Now, as far as the runestone goes, I initially wanted to believe that Tauriel would take it back after she gave it back to Kili in death, maybe to return it to his mother on a well-intentioned trip to meet her, to give them both closure. However, upon learning about what’s specifically written ON the stone, I have a different thought - Middle Earth News points out here that the runes on it translate to “Return to me.” Obviously, at its creation and initial giving, that was about Kili’s mother bidding her reckless son to come home safe. But when Kili gave the stone to Tauriel on the beach, he made it theirs as well. He bid Tauriel to return to him by giving it to her. And so now, in returning it to him upon his death, Tauriel bids Kili in turn to return to her, death be damned.

So while at first glance, that returning of the runestone may look like Tauriel denying her feelings again, its really a further, even more solid gesture of that acceptance. And honestly, to me, an expression of hope.

And I feel like hope is what really strikes me, about this ship. They have SO much potential, not only in how little we’ve been given of them in canon, but the potential they see in each other in those brief moments where they obviously imagine what their lives could be like, if they could be. One of my favorite shows says, early in its story, “Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing.” And that is exactly what I see in them, and why they strike me as so wonderful. They are hope, and the belief in love despite all odds against them, despite all the darkness around them.

And no matter how shakily that might appear to be set up, that is gorgeous, at its heart and root.

And if you got this far in all my scattered ramblings, thank you!

(The art above is my own, btw. For more of my own star-crossed inter-fantasy-racial height-difference queer fae, click here 💕 )

~~~

Patreon ~ Etsy ~ Ko-fi

#kiliel #meta #hobbit headcanons #the hobbit #romance #fanart #fanart friday #fangirling #lotr #lotr fanart #legolas x gimli #legoli #kili #tauriel #tauriel x kili

14 notes · View notes

psycheswritings · 4 years

Text

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Nine

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, a little misogyny and a lot of angst.

Word Count: 4795

Author's Note: So, how have you all been? Good, I expect. This chapter is a little, well, angsty. There is a lot of emotions going around and things start to go wrong for everyone. I will post the playlist for the fic soon but I warn you, I'll break your heart there might be some spoilers in the lyrics. The music recommended for this chapter is "Big Guns" by Ruelle. A big, huge thank you for everybody who still reads the fic even after nine ass long chapters. Be prepared for a lot more. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter; tags are at the end of the post and if you want to be added, let me know. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Tommy discovers that Arthur and Michael are in prison and confronts Campbell about it. When Daphne discovers the whole ordeal about Arthur's prison, she and Alfie have a discussion that doesn't end all that well.

Nine

Things were going smoothly for the Shelby family - the pubs in London were earning a god profit, the exportation of the alcohol had encountered no hindrance so far and then there was Daphne, that had finally give in to his advances. Tommy should have expected that something would go wrong, because things had always been like that for them. It had been this way when his mom died and his father ran away, it had been like that with the war, this time was no different.

“We had a deal.” He entered the church to find the irishman on his usual spot, reading the newspaper. “Hey! We had a fucking deal!”

“I would think that you would moderate your language in a place of worship.” His tone didn’t conceal the disdain and Tommy has had enough of the attitude, so he rips the paper out of Campbell’s hands and throws it away, pointing a finger to the policeman’s face.

“We had a fucking deal.”

“Mr. Shelby, if you read the papers, you might have seen that the Home Secretary has got himself into a bit of a fizz about certain moral issues. Prostitution, protection, racketeering, drinking, cocaine and, of course, gambling. He has demanded results.” As the Irishman lectures, Tommy starts to pace around, breath uneven, trying his best to not let his anger take over. He had to think of a way to get them out of this situation.

“You offered me protection. You promised me protection.”

“Well, no, you see it was Mr. Churchill that made you that promise. And the Home Secretary outranks him, so…” Campbell observes as Tommy walks around before saying. “And I can hardly be blamed if your demented brother decided to go on some sort of blood orgy during dinner.” The little patience that the gangster had was gone and as he approaches the policeman he is already shouting at him.

“Don't fucking lie to me! Do not sit here in your fucking church and lie to me!”

“You will need to contain your emotions or this meeting is at an end.” Tommy faces Campbell for a moment, his only wish is to put a bullet through his head, has been for a long time, but he tries his best to regain his composure, stepping back from the man and turning his back from him, resting his hands on the benches on the other side of the aisle. “Good. That's better. So, let us review the new situation. I have your brother in a prison cell charged with the murder of Billy Kitchen. The case against him is strong and I have no doubt that his destiny is to hang. And then there is Polly's son, Michael. He has already admitted to helping Arthur burn down the Marquis pub. He was a tough nut to crack, that boy, but crack he did. So I have your brother facing the noose, I have your cousin facing five years for arson. And I have your entire organization in disarray in Birmingham and in London.”

“What do you want?” Tommy asks, facing the policeman again.

“What do I want?!” Campbell looks at the gangster like he is not making sense at all. “I don't understand.”

“I have already agreed to do your fucking killing for you. Now, what is it you want from me?” Tommy’s voice is low and he punctuates every word. Campbell stands up from the bench to get closer to the gangster and the younger man just observes him, trying to conceal his anger.

“There you go, you see. An agreement is not the same thing as an assurance, now, is it? You see, I found I wasn't sleeping so well. It wasn't just the smell and the noise in that room, no. It was the nagging doubt. The knowledge… The knowledge that Tommy Shelby is not afraid to die. Therefore, the threat to your own life might not be enough to make it certain that you will obey me on the given day. I needed also the power of life and death over your family. And that I now have. Your brother, your cousin and your sister. I have known her address in Primrose Hill since the day she moved i, she is safe only as long as I want her to be. I have been ahead of you every step of the way. And, as my father used to say, to make sure your dog obeys you, you have to show it the stick once in a while.” He holds his cane up, as to illustrate his words, before walking out of the church, the echoes of the walking stick filling the air as Tommy stands there, weighing down his options.

#* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #

“Tommy, Arthur is in solitary confinement. Michael is in the remand wing of…” Lizzie follows him when he enters the office, but he is only partially registering what she is saying to him, the sound of the telephone ringing on the background.

“I already know. Get out, shut the doors.” She does as he says and Tommy sits on his desk, hands resting on the wood, eyes observing the telephone before he picks it up.

“Tommy? It's me. Tommy, can you hear me?” It’s impossible to not recognize the voice and the gangster is not sure about the way it makes him feel.

“Yes, Grace.”

“I think you called. I haven't slept.” He takes a deep breath before answering.

“Grace, this is not a good time.”

“I can call you back.” There is a hint of desperation on her voice, like she is clinging to something, a thread of hope perhaps. He should expect that, between her proposal before she left to America and the letters she kept sending him even when he didn’t answer none of them, even after she married, but part of him still felt a little surprised by her tone.

“No, it's fine. It's all right.”

“Can we meet?” The words had barely left his lips when she talks again and something occurs to Tommy - maybe this is the chance he has to balance things between him and Campbell and find out once and for all how he feels about her.

“Yes. We'll meet.”

“When?”

“Grace, there are some things I have to do first.”

#* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #

Tommy entered the Shelby house to find Polly sitting at the table in the room connected to the betting shop, smocking. He walked past her, entering the other room where John, Esme and Finn where waiting. Stooding near the table, hands behind his back, he prepared himself to survey the damage containment. “John?”

“The coppers have lifted ten of our men in Camden Town, the rest of them are on the run.”

“Tom, they've taken Michael.” It was Finn, clearly worried about his cousin’s situation.

“Business first.”Was all Tommy said to his brother to silence the boy.

“They took Michael last night...” Polly got up from her seat, clearly exasperated by the fact that her son was now in jail. All she wanted was a way to get him out, business be damned.

“I said business first.”

“They picked him up…” Tommy didn’t let her finish, raising his voice and looking at her as he said.

“Polly, business first!” She leaned into the doorframe, restless, her nephew ignored that, turning to look at his brother. “John?”

“They took all our whisky, so no doubt they'll be supping that for Christmas. They've impounded all our vans, put their own locks on the warehouse. The Eden Club and all our pubs have been raided by the coppers and handed back to Sabini and Solomons.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “The Black Country boys think it was Arthur that killed Billy because that's what the coppers told them. So there'll be no more free passes for our whisky boats.”

“I don't give a fuck about whisky. I don't give a fuck about Billy Kitchen. I want my son out of prison. Now.” Polly came forward talking directly at Thomas.

“Thomas, I spoke to Johnny Dogs...”

“This meeting should just be family.” The older woman interrupts Esme, not boring herself to look at the girl.

“I can help.” John’s wife protests but Polly directs her answer to Tommy again.

“It's family only, she is not blood, Tommy!”

“Let her speak.” The gangster says, trying to maintain his voice low.

“Or is this a business? Have you forgotten…”

“Enough!” He screams looking at his aunt. “Enough, Polly.” The man turns to his sister-in-law. “Esme?”

“I spoke to Johnny Dogs. The Lees are kin.”

“The bloody Lees!” Polly exclaims, not believing that Tommy is really considering the offer.

“They can give us men!” Esme argues.

“We don't need more fucking men! It's men that have done the damage! It... It... is men fighting like cockerels that have put us here in the first place.” Tommy just ignores his aunt outburst, knowing that she is not thinking rationally because of Michael’s situation.

“Esme, I'll take up their offer. We need men.” He takes a brief look at Polly, who stares at him, shaking her head before taking a step closer to him.

“If Michael ever gets out of prison, I am taking him away from this family. For good.” She marches up to Finn, taking the young boy by the arm, all the while Tommy observes her, quiet. “This life is bad. This life is all bad.”

“Aunt Pol, what are you doing?” The youngest Shelby protests as she forces him out of the room with her.

“Shut up and walk.” There’s just him, John and Esme on the betting shop now. They listen to the door opening and then closing. Tommy leans his hands into fists on the table, before sitting down on the chair in front of John.

“Thomas? Should I go and speak to Queen Mary Lee at the Black Patch?” Esme takes a step closer to her husband, watching as Thomas rests his elbows on the table, hands intertwined together in front of his mouth.

“Yes.”

“She can give us soldiers for a few nights.” She says and he just murmurs.

“Mm, good.” Fingers moving restlessly as he looks down onto the table, mind racing to think of solutions.

“John, go and bring up the car.” The other Shelby looks up at his wife, that just nods her head towards the door. He gets up from the chair, giving a last glance at his brother who is still silent, then he picks up his hat and leaves. Esme walks to the door to certifie herself that he really left before coming back to the table and inclining herself on the table to get closer to her brother-in-law. “Imagine riding away, Thomas. Living the real life, you know? Your Gypsy half is the stronger. You just want to ride away.” Thomas looks up at her, just observing quietly as she talks. “France is the new place for us, they say. Lot of metal lying around still. Guns and trucks and spent shells and things. Then you go south. Saintes-Maries, where the Black Madonna is. My brothers go sometimes for the fair. It's like a home for us. They still let you get lost there.” He lowers his hands to the table and leans closer to her, speaking low and calmly.

“I've been to France, Esme. So has John. Now get your coat and go with your husband.” The gangster just observes her for a moment, before taking her face between the fingers of his left hand. “And if you ever talk about getting lost again, I will cut you from this family.” After he releases her, Esme looks around, as to make a point, before speaking.

“What family?” And then she leaves and Thomas can’t help to think that she is not all wrong.

#* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #

Daphne doesn’t see Alfie before going to the bakery that morning, what she finds a little strange, because they usually go to work together, but she brushes it off as overthinking. Yet, things get weirder as she approaches the bakery and all the man go dead silent as she passes then. She ignores it too, like she ignores the little remnants of blood on the floor and the fact that Ollie seems more nervous than usual around her. That is until she has to get out of her office to ask something to Ollie and overhears a conversation between two of their employees - a conversation about the prison of one of the gypsy brothers.

She stops dead on her tracks, the two men see her and look at each other like they’ve just seem a ghost, until Ollie shoo them away, looking back at her with a very frightened expression. It’s then that it all comes weighing down on her - Alfie’s extrange behavior for all these past months, the fact that he wanted her out of the house last night, his cold demeanor towards her since the wedding.

Ollie tries to intercept her when she starts walking again but there is no stopping her as she storms through the corridor to Alfie’s office. Her breath is uneven and she has a hard time recognizing what exactly is the feeling bubbling under her skin - is it anger? Or maybe it’s betrayal but she can figure it out why she would feel that way. When she opens the door, unceremoniously, Alfie immediately looks up from whatever it is he is working on. He nods at Ollie, who is standing right behind her, and the younger man leaves, closing the door.

“You already know then?” There was no reason to pretend he didn’t know why she was there, he had been preparing himself for that all morning. Alfie reclines himself back into his chair, letting his glasses fall to his chest as he looks at her. She doesn’t sit on her usual chair, right in front of him, doesn’t think she can, not in the state she is in and that is his first sign of what is about to come.

“That’s what you’ve been hiding from me all along?” If he didn’t knew her so well, Alfie would think that she wasn’t unsettled by the news. Standing there, in the middle of his office, speaking to him without raising her voice, her speech did not falter, like this was just a normal conversation about the business and not the questioning that he knew it was, Daphne showed few signs of the raging battle roaring inside of her. She had always been good at concealing her feelings even when she was a kid, having been raised to be a proper lady, not letting others know that underneath all that pretense lived a real woman with real feelings.

“I knew you would vouch against it if I told ya.”

“Then you just decided that it was better to do it behind my back?” It was already bad enough to think the exact same thing on his head, hearing her said it out loud only made things ten times worse and he kinda hated himself for that.

“Look, love, I’ve told ya we were going to use them to win the war and then get rid of the fucking gypsies, haven’t I?” Rolling her eyes she asked him.

“Sabini is not a problem anymore then, is he?” Alfie almost swore under his breath - she was too damn perceptive, he had been fooling her for far more time than he thought was possible. The Jew took a deep breath before stating.

“We’ve made an agreement.” She laughs, humourless, hands resting on her waist before she traps him in her gaze.

“An agreement.” A pause. “Let me guess, he promised you that our bookies could go to Epsom this year in exchange of your help to get rid of the Blinders?” Daphne waits for him to say something, which he doesn’t, and she caughts herself massaging her temples as she paces around the room. “And like all the other times, he will deceive you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” She snaps at his tone, walking to his desk, standing between the two chairs and propping her hands, closed into fists, on the wood.

“We have a written deal.” He tries to hold his ground but stops as he hears her laugh again, mockingly.

“A written deal, of course, how haven’t I thought of this before, huh?” Her hazel eyes search for his blue ones. “Tell me, Alfie, this is what you call winning a war?”

“What do you know about winning wars, Daphne?” He regrets the words the moment they left his mouth, specially when she flinches away from him, taking a step back from the desk.

“I know plenty about war, Alfred, you know that better than anyone.”

“Daph…” The Jew almost gets up from his seat but she stops him before he could finish the movement.

“Don’t.” Turning her back to him, Daphne closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to keep her cool. “What did you do?”

“We’ve taken all of the clubs back and Arthur is in prison.” She looked at him from over her shoulder.

“For what?”

“The murder of Billy Kitchen.”

“That was your plan all along?” She hears him exhale loudly before his voice is heard.

“Not in detail, but yeah, it was the plan since the beginning, aye.”

“And you didn’t told me before… why?”

“Because you’ve turned soft, Daphne.” When she turned to face him his expression had changed, it’s like he was telling her something that is obvious. “I knew that from the moment that that fucking gypsy put foot on this bakery.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t accept the deal with Sabinni because of Thomas.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk, hands intertwined, venon in his voice.

“Tommy has nothing to do with me thinking that this deal is bad for us.” She snaps back at him and this time he is the one who laughs.

“He has everything to do with it, love, because you love him.” He pauses to gauge her reaction. Daphne shakes her head in denial.

“You are out of your damn mind.”

“I am out of my mind?” He stands up, leaning onto his fists, his tone of voice higher than before. “Are you even hearing yourself and how much of a hypocrite you are being, huh? How’s he any different than all the ones we betrayed before him, huh? I will tell you the difference, the difference is that you’ve let yourself fall in love with him, that’s the fucking difference, innit?”

“You know me well enough to know that I would never let my feelings get in the way of the business.”

“You don’t deny it then? You do love him, don’t you?” She doesn’t answer him and that only seems to add fuel to the fire. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were already sneaking around with him, huh? Opening your…”

“STOP!” Her scream seems to get him out of his trance and the hurt in her eyes is like a knife to his heart. “Don’t say something that you will regret later. Don’t make me hate you, Alfie, because I don’t know if I can come back from that.” They just stare at each other for a long moment before she speaks again. “Why do you keep me around, Alfie? Why do you keep me around if you truly believe that I will betray you at the first opportunity I have?”

“Because I made a fucking promise…” His tone is lower and solemn but she doesn’t let him finish.

“Fuck you and your promises. It’s not me you have to worry about, Alfred, is yourself.” His expression softens and Alfie almost takes a step back at the sheer force of her words. “You push everyone around you away, always have something up your sleeve to try and gain something from everybody. You want to call me a hypocrite, fine, maybe I am, but so are you. Because you stand there, looking at me and talking about fucking promises when you’ve been lying to me for months in a row and even after all these years that I’ve been nothing but loyal to you, you have the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me that you’re afraid I would betray you for somebody else.”

“Daph…” He walks around the table to get closer to her but she steps back, not letting him talk or get closer to her.

“If I really wanted to do that you really think I would choose Thomas? That I would have waited all these years listening from everyone how crazy I was to still be around you, hearing people calling me your mistress and God knows what else behind my back. If I really wanted to betray you, Alfie, I would have done it a hell lot sooner, because that’s all that Sabini has been waiting.”

Silence fills the room and neither of them is really sure how many time has passed when she speaks again.

“I’m going home. I’ll be there tomorrow morning, don’t wait for me.” He reaches for her as she turns to leave, catching her wrist on his hand, forcing her to face him.

“Are you leaving?” There is a certain level of desperation on his voice and there is no mistaking the worry in his blue eyes, she almost caves in.

“Yes, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Daphne takes a deep breath, holding his gaze.

“To a hotel. I need some time alone. I will still come to work, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s not about the fucking work I’m worried about, innit?” There is silence again and she recognizes the conflict on his face. “And if I don’t let you go?”

“I’m not asking for your permission.” She breaks away from his hold and walks to the door while Alfie waits for her to look back. She doesn’t.

#* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #

“Where've you been?” Ada asks her aunt as she enters the room and sees her taking a bath.

“I went to the Spotted Dog in Digbeth for a glass or two of rum.” The younger woman observes her aunt and frowns, asking.

“Was it one glass or two?”

“It was three.” Polly looks around. “Where's the baby?”

“Sleeping.” Ada reclines herself into the couch. “More like five.” The older woman groans lightly, lifting her arms from the water to rest it on the rim of the tub ad look at her niece.

“It was more like six.” She reaches for the cigarette, resting on the ashtray on the table near her. “Did you meet the maid?”

“I talked politics with her, she got bored and went to bed.” They both chuckle at Ada’s statement. “I phoned James. He talked to the lawyer anyway. He said he'd take Arthur's case for free, so we don't need Tommy.” The older woman exhales loudly, clearly disturbed by the topic. “Pol? We'll get Michael free, as well, I promise.”

“There's no need, they're letting him out in the morning.” Her expression changes to something somber and Ada frowns, worried. “Do you still talk to Daphne?” The question sounds strange to the young woman, but she answers anyway.

“Yes.”

“Then tell her that the best thing she can do is stay away from your brother. She is a nice girl, has certainly suffered enough. There is no future for her besides a man like him.”

“Pol, why…”

“If the baby wants anything at night, ring the bell by the bed. She gets paid to work twenty four hours, that girl, she's getting lazy. Well, take advantage if you're nice.” Ada observes as her aunt leans into the tub and concludes that the best think she can do is leave her, so that’s what she does.

#* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #

Daphne doesn't sleep that night. She tosses and turns on the bed, restless, thinking about her fight with Alfie and how the Shelby’s might be dealing with all the trouble, until she decides that there is no reason to stay laying down when no sleep will come to her. So she gets up and sits on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey on her hands, eyes focused on the fire burning there.

She recalls the words exchanged between her and Alfie that morning and starts to question herself about his accusation. Had her judgment of the situation been tainted by her feelings towards Tommy? Had she really let herself be blinded by love, like Polly had waned her? She, who always had done her best to conceal her feelings from everybody and leave her life dealing with things as rationally as she could?

The burning of the alcohol down her throat brings her back to the present and she hears the banging on the door. Daphne tries to ignore it, thinking that it might be Alfie or one of his man. She doesn’t have the strength or the patience to deal with neither now. Then she hears talking and all of a sudden the doors opens and Harriet comes in - no makeup, loose hair and wearing a simple plain gray dress, a worried expression on her face.

“What happened?” The courtesan closes the door behind her, approaching the other woman, taking a sit on the vacant armchair. Daphne turns her face to look through the windows, noticing that is already dawning, she haven’t noticed how many time she had been there.

Harriet looks around before fixing her gaze on her friend again - the bed is disheveled but just one look at Daphne says enough for her to know that the woman hadn't had a minute of sleep in the past few hours. Her legs are pulled up on the chair, closer to her chest, hair messily tied in, an empty glass of whiskey in her hands.

“Ollie called me in the middle of the afternoon saying that Alfie was beyond himself and that you had left.” There is still no response, the only reaction she gets from Daphne is that she rests her head on the back of the armchair, body relaxing into the armchair as her gaze falls onto the fire. “He keeps saying that he fucked up and that he doesn’t deserves your trust but he refused to tell me the meaning of it.”

“We fought.” Harriet is almost giving up, preparing herself to leave, when Daphne’s voice resounds on the room.

“That much I could tell.” Hazel eyes focus on her and the courtesan sighs. “What about?”

“Thomas.” Daphne pauses, inhales deeply before moving to serve herself another glass of whiskey. “Well, I thought it was about the business, but you can say that the main reason was him.” Harriet says nothing, waiting, because she knows that pressing her right now is not the best of choices. “Did you knew?”

“Knew what?”

“About his plans to serve the Shelby’s to Sabini on a silver plate.” They look at each other for a moment before Harriet answers.

“No. I had my suspicions that he would do something about them soon but he never told me anything.” Daphne only hums in response, taking a sip of her drink. “What did he do?” The other woman sneers.

“He made a deal with Sabini so our bookies could work Epsom this year. They have raided all the clubs taken by the Blinders and Tommy’s older brother is in jail, framed by the murder of one of their men.”

“Oh my…”

“That’s what he had been hiding from me all these months.” Daphne downs the rest of the whiskey, observing as she turns the glass in her hand. “I told him that Sabini was going to betray him like he has done so many times before and he told me that I was being a hypocrite questioning his actions because we have done that before.” She takes a deep breath, looking at the fire again. “And that I was only doing that because I loved Tommy.”

“What the fuck! Alfie is out of his damn mind?!” Harriet gets up from her sit, takes the glass from Daphne's hands and pours whiskey on it, taking it in one gulp.

“He is not.” The courtesan turns to face her friend, who is still sprawled out on the armchair.

“What…”

“He may have said some things that he shouldn’t, but he is not out of his mind.” Daphne’s expression is devoid of emotion and she is calmer than she had been on the previous day. “The thing is... The thing is he is right, Harriet. Alfie is right. The only difference between Thomas and all of the other people we betrayed is that I love him.”

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771

41 notes · View notes

darkblueboxs · 4 years

Text

Settled

AFTG daemon AU. Read here or on AO3 (**Check author notes ch.11 for content warnings**)

This segment works as a stand-alone, but the full fic can be found here.

Andrew and Aaron, from the beginning.

It all starts on a sticky, hot day in Oakland. Aaron is standing at the concession stand, wavering listlessly between corn dogs and Slurpees as though he gives a shit, when a cop walks up to him and changes his life forever.

“Andrew?” The man’s eyes skate across Aaron, around him, and his face whitens. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

His words startle Ledie from Aaron’s shoulder. She changes mid-fall from spider to moth, fluttering behind Aaron like he’s her shield. The movement seems to baffle the officer even further.

“Your daemon – I don’t – That’s impossible. What the hell happened to Lexia?”

“What?” Aaron scans the crowd for any sign of his mother and comes up empty. The guy doesn’t look high, but it isn’t always easy to tell. Aaron would know.

“She was settled. She settled years ago. What is going on?!”

The cop asks to meet Aaron’s mother, and it only gets worse from there.

Andrew reads the letter his long-lost twin wrote him only once, although to be fair, that’s all it ever takes. He hands it to Lexia, and she shreds it immediately, claws flashing.

That should be the end of it. In a fair world, it would be. Andrew stopped believing in fair a long, long time ago.

Of course the pig opens his mouth to his bestest buddy, Andrew’s soon-to-be adoptive brother. Andrew would say that it all went to hell then and there if he hadn’t already been more than acquainted with the place.

Drake’s hand is all rough and wrong as he pulls it across Lexia’s skin. She doesn’t have fur to protect her; his skin against hers is nauseating. “Don’t be a spoil-sport, AJ. If you played nice, we could have a little fun. All three of us.”

Lexia’s claws unsheathe, but Drake has learned all her tricks. He crushes her under his hand in a second, and doesn’t react to the scrape of her claws across his arm. The sensation is unbearable; Andrew drops like a sack of bricks. Brick, that’s what he needs to become, from the inside out. If he can brick Lexia out, then he doesn’t have to feel this, doesn’t have to feel her pain.

If anyone gave him the option, he would never have a daemon at all. He would drift away, sensationless and uncaring, and nobody would ever be able to hurt him again.

Eventually, Drake gives up on persuading Andrew. After all, Cass is far easier to convince. She writes to Aaron in her typical warm fashion, trying to organise a reunion between them. By the time Andrew hears about the letter, it’s already well on its way to reaching the boy who happens to share his face.

Andrew will die before he lets that reunion happen. No…

Andrew will kill.

And that really should be the end of it.

Aaron looks at the boy sitting across from him. The boy with his face.

There’s no recognition. They share everything. They share nothing.

Ledie noses forwards. She hasn’t been settled long. It came as a shock to Aaron, somehow, even though it had been a long time coming. His mom’s anxiety and irritability had built and built as the reunion drew closer, and then –

The morning after she finally snapped, Aaron woke up, studied the deep ring of black around his eye, and when he looked back to his daemon, she was –

He felt it in his chest, something compressing and folding in on itself. Folding itself up small enough that it could pass unnoticed under his mother’s newfound violence.

People tended to underestimate Aaron. With this daemon form, they would do so even more.

He could make that work in his favour.

Mus musculus. House mouse.

Aaron scooped Ledie into the safety of his pocket, and there she stayed. Until today.

He lets her down on the floor, and she looks at Lexia’s towering form with trepidation.

“Careful,” says Andrew sharkishly. “She’s hungry.”

Daemons don’t eat. It’s a stupid joke.

“The pig said yours wasn’t settled.”

“It’s new.” Aaron doesn’t understand why Andrew cares, or even remembers; he didn’t seem to give two shits about Aaron, so why would he care about Aaron’s daemon?

“As new as this?” With vicious speed, Andrew prods a sharp finger into the soft, fresh bruising around Aaron’s eye. “I thought so,” he says when Aaron doesn’t answer.

Aaron’s daemon may be a mouse, but he’s no coward. Mice aren’t timid; they’re quick, cunning, and know how to hide. They can skirt the corners of the most unwelcoming homes and eke out a living for themselves. His point is that he isn’t afraid of Andrew, and neither is Ledie. While the humans may be strangers to each other, the daemons study each other intently, recognising something that was either written in their DNA or beaten into them over years. A kind of common ground.

Ledie gets too close to Andrew’s daemon. Lexia snaps forwards, chasing her away with a toothy hiss, and Ledie rushes back into the safety of Aaron’s clothes.

“I would keep her close, if I were you.” In any other mouth, the words would sound threatening. In Andrew’s, they fall too flat. Somewhere between advice and a warning. “There’s all kinds out there.”

He isn’t wrong, as Aaron will learn.

Andrew has made a deal, and he intends to keep it. Nobody touches Aaron, nobody touches his daemon. Consensually or otherwise. It’s not the specific brand of abuse that Tilda goes in for, but any brand of abuse is a no-no in Andrew’s book. She may not hurt little Ledie, but she hurts little Aaron, alright. All the same, Aaron keeps his daemon zipped away like the clever boy he is. Andrew will be having words if he does otherwise; no need to make Andrew’s job harder than it already is.

Tilda’s daemon is a rodent too. How ironic. Bigger than Aaron’s, not a mouse, no, but still smaller than Lexia by far.

Andrew contemplates how easy it would be for Lexia’s jaws to snap shut around the little pest’s neck. There would be no blood, of course. Daemons don’t bleed. Andrew doesn’t care either way; what he does not have is bloodlust, no. It is a sense of justice, if somewhat warped.

Of course, that route would mean involving his daemon in his actions, a vulnerability Andrew has long sworn off. No, he is going to settle this human to human, assuming, of course, that Tilda even qualifies as one.

He opens the car door for her. She gets in.

He smiles.

Andrew only means to knock Nicky’s assailants down long enough for him to pick up his cousin and drag them back to the safety of the bar.

Lexia, of course, stupid, stupid daemon. She has other ideas.

“They’re going to declaw you for this,” he tells her later, when she’s licking off the grime and the blood. “No more kibble for you.”

“No. They’re going to declaw you.”

It’s the last time they speak for a long, long time.

“What seems to be the problem, Officer… Higgins, you said?” Wymack says, unaware of the bomb he just dropped in their lap. Aaron’s head snaps up. It’s been years, but he still remembers their chance encounter as though he had borrowed Andrew’s memory for the day.

He watches as his brother wrestles the phone from Wymack’s grasp. Lexia, who has been pacing along the mirrors that wall one side of the changing room, goes very, very still.

Aaron tries not to think about his brother’s freakshow of a relationship with his daemon. As far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t need to know. There are some facts, however, that are so stark that not even complete indifference can block them out.

Andrew keeps his daemon at a distance because Andrew doesn’t like to feel.

That’s why it’s so surprising to see Lexia’s reaction as Andrew hangs up on the cop for the third and final time. Today, against Andrew’s wishes, something is breaking through the walls between them. Something big enough to reach Andrew’s shrivelled, abandoned heart.

Back arched, hackles raised, a low hiss rattles through her bony ribcage. Andrew looks as startled as the rest of them.

He turns to Wymack. “I think I’m coming down with something. Cough, cough. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kevin tries to stop Andrew from leaving. He’s stupid like that.

Caith nearly gets her face clawed off for her trouble, and Andrew reacts to Kevin – or maybe to Lexia’s outburst – with unbridled fury. He puts his fist through the wall, and both Lexia and Caith are startled into submission.

Andrew leaves, his daemon following unwillingly behind. Since the phone call ended, she has not re-sheathed her claws.

“Something’s wrong with him.” Ledie’s voice comes unbidden from the folds of Aaron’s outer shirt.

“What else is new?” Aaron snaps. It isn’t like he cares about Andrew’s business, no matter what Ledie says.

The truth is, with Andrew, he will never know where to start.

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought.

Liked this? More here.

Check out #tsath for AFTG daemon-related pics, discussions, content etc.

#aftg #tfc #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #aftg fic #tsath #my fic

14 notes · View notes

doktorpeace · 4 years

Note

🖊 please introduce us to Erato, I know they're in a masks campaign but I have no idea what else

Oh, gosh, I feel like I talk about them too much as is but I can’t say I’m not glad to have the excuse. This is gonna be really long cause tbh I’m just gonna dump like, a bunch of their lore lmao.

Erato is my Masks: A New Generation character in a campaign being played alongside @twerkyvulture (As Amanda ‘Megafauna’ Ghorbani, The Transformed) @draayder (as Josephine ‘Rattlesnake’ Short, The Reformed) @spitblaze (as Les ‘Void’ Hawking, The Doomed) @heedra (as Enid ‘Frag Beetle’ Day, The Scion) and @skarchomp (as Parker ‘Cobalt’ Andrews, The Legacy) with @dykeceratops as our GM. The current arc features @mechanicalriddle as Zoe, The Nova as a guest member. Here’s a group shot done by @tredlocity. Clockwise from the top left: Cobalt in blue, Erato in the track suit, Les in the cloak, Zoe with the mismatched eyes, Enid’s the big robot, Amanda’s got the scales and claws, and Josephine’s got the mask and tonfa.

To get back to Erato specifically though they’re an Anti Metahuman/Metahuman Suppression Weapon created by the in universe tech group Wright Industries, founded by Ingrid Day, Enid’s mom. They’re generally stronger, faster, and more durable than humans and can copy the superpowers of others for 5-10 minutes by touching them thanks to what is basically a meta-stem cell transplant interacting with other parts of their systems. (Also, I 100% swear to god that I did not consider ‘Robot Hero Who Copies The Powers Of Others’ is literally fucking Mega Man despite loving Mega Man a ton until after I had hashed out the concept with my GM’s assistance. Only once Abby said ‘oh like mega man’ I was like ‘wait, shit’.) I’ll tell you some about them as a person before unloading their history onto you, lol. Being an android built for combat and kept in an underground research lab, kept on a rigid schedule, constantly taking tests, physical, mental, written, oral, ethical, etc. etc. etc. and under constant supervision Erato lacked for real interactive experience before the campaign started only really ever getting to takl with authority figures and their sisters. They were very passive and observational, owing in part to their power set requiring a lot of adaptation to make the most of. They’re naive and very bad at exercising discretion in decision making, sometimes they overstep boundaries when talking with people without meaning to, and they’re really emotional! They have trouble dealing with strong emotions cause they haven’t managed to discover coping mechanisms that work well for them, they tend to get angry kind of easily and need time to blow off steam. But they’re also very genuine, honest, and well meaning. They are almost never mean, rude, or snippy, they do their best to do well by others, and have a strong sense of justice paired with a deep distrust and dislike of the current legal system in universe. This is in part due to the conditions of their creation (and in part because the intent behind it was kind of right!) and in part due to Enid’s life being threatened by a representative of the state while they and their teammates were in jail after being arrested following a huge brawl with an anti-methuman terrorist group. They’re also very willing to put forth the effort to improve as a person and to mend relationship wounds, almost always apologizing first to Enid when they fight and genuinely trying to work in advice and feedback they get from others, which they often get from Les and Parker. They’re also relatively educated, from the tests of their creators, from home and public schooling, from personal research, but that doesn’t undo their naivety. They also just straight up lack some very basic and/or common sense knowledge. Like, they don’t know what a bear is. Why would you teach a battle android working in a densely populated, extremely built up city about wild animals? All in all they’re kind of inexperienced and immature and make mistakes a lot but they’re (usually) very willing to admit their mistakes and to try and improve and get better. They genuinely and truly want what’s best for others and are learning to value them self as much as their teammates. They’ve also taken it upon them self to start doing humanitarian work in their free time over the summer. In a fight Erato is adaptive and quick witted but tends to put themself in more danger than is necessary. They also sometimes use more extreme force than the others believe is called for, but after the first time they did they and Parker had a real heart to heart about it, Les helped Erato learn and practice some coping, centering, behaviors they could do even under pressure and Erato did their best to adapt. That said they Fucking Hate The Keeper So God Damned Much Because Of How Much Suffering He’s Caused Their Friends And How Much Danger He Presents And Would Kill Him With No Remorse. So they don’t intend to apologize for ripping his arms off whatsoever. They and their sisters, collectively known as The Muse Units, were made to work as a group and as a proof of concept that atomized units could replace traditional police for use against metahuman criminals and to slowly phase out The Registry, the legal department which handles general metahuman based laws. If successful the units could be mass produced and improved upon, rapidly replacing current, error prone, law enforcement. At the time of their development, between late 1999 for blueprint drafting and until mid 2002 when the project was shut down, they were the cutting edge for AI development aided in no small part by Ingrid’s technokinetic powers allowing her to make advancements few others could. (As a note Erato’s body was finished being built in early 2001 but their unique personhood didn’t really come to fruition until February 18th, 2002, so that’s what I consider their ‘birthday’.) Ultimately, however, while a few of the Muses excelled some did not perform to expectations, the project fell behind schedule, investors lost interest, and a minor scandal involving a casualty happened, resulting in the project being shut down. The Muses were placed in indefinite storage, the data gained from their short existence used on other projects such and some of the tech advancements used to inform future decisions by the company. And it would have stayed that way, if not for the fact that in 2018 Ingrid Day was revealed to be The Locust in a conflict where Enid tried to defend her against a militia group who had been hired to take her down, being shot and presumably killed in the process. As The Locust she had been terrorizing Boston for over a decade trying to take it over and being involved in the deaths of over 70 people. (Which irl btw would make her like, the 8th most prolific confirmed serial killer of all time, Yikes!) Wright Industries, desperately needing to prove their hard stance against metahuman criminals and needing a PR stunt to deflect from their connection to their former CEO re-awakened Erato. They weren’t the most powerful or best performing of the Muses, but they were above average, obedient, and had an easy enough to monitor and control power set with little risk for property damage to boot, the perfect choice. Erato then took to the streets of Boston acting basically as a vigilante, following orders, stopping minor crimes, and sometimes working alongside the police. They attracted the attention of The Viceroy, a semi-retired 56 year old hero who never registered in spite of it being compulsory legally. They both have the ability to copy the powers of others, though he can just by sight, and he has body elasticity too. These make him durable and extremely adaptable, add to that his detective skills and he’s something of a local Boston legend. He took them in as his Protégé. Though they remained distant for quite some time with Erato still coming and going between his place and Wright Industries, having promised not to reveal his assistance to the doctors who Erato reported their work to. It was this way for about a year and a half before the campaign started and Erato began living with Viceroy full time, no longer wanting to go back to Wright Industries as they began to think more independently and consider what they wanted for them self more. During this time Erato had chance encounters with each of the other characters a few times as they also did minor vigilante work, peaking with a villain who is a member of Superhuman, an extremist pro-metahuman group, attacked the school that Josephine, Les, and Amanda all attend. After that incident Erato was prompted by Viceroy to contact each of these other young potential heroes to form a team, The Upstarts. Additionally during this time Viceroy took in Enid who had been abandoned by her biological father and had been getting bounced around foster care. Over time the three of them have become kind of a weird family, living in a warehouse full of cats with a couple of bedrooms grafted on and an ultra secret basement lair underneath full of advanced stuff Viceroy makes. Though Erato and Enid have definitely had their ups and down, more recently in the story (and we’ve been doing this campaign for well over a year now) they’ve been putting in serious effort to better their relationship and be good adoptive siblings to one another. I love their relationship a lot, they’re good kids.

That gets us up to the start of the campaign but hoo boy, I’ve been writing for like, an hour now. Since then Erato’s helped take down a nazi-aligned terrorist organization, they’ve got a boyfriend in their teammate, Les, and they’ve made friends outside of their core group of teammates. They’ve also enrolled in school doing well on some classes and poorly in others, namely learning how to Code and Woodworking. Currently they’re at a sleep away summer camp for superpowered kids called Camp Justice, about 10 miles outside of Boston. They really, really hate it there. Constant supervision, being made to do tests, things scheduled out against their will, inability to leave the area? Yeah that certainly reminds them of something. The difference between it and school, which does share these features, is they wanted to go to school. They very much Did Not want to go to camp. As a result they’re finally going to have to start facing the trauma they’ve got from their origin and also actually tell the others other than Les and Amanda about their sisters. Whiiiiich...Enid saw one of them disassembled and showed off in parts at a school science fair display set up by Wright Industries to gauge interest in students. And she hasn’t mentioned this to Erato...for 4 months Uh Oh! Lastly, here’s my tag I use mostly for art I make of them, it includes some texts posts and picrew dumps too though, lol. Feel free to look!

#cubecubed #erato #masks

14 notes · View notes

thankskenpenders · 5 years

Note

How long do you think a character has to be badly written for before they're just a bad character? Like Geoffry gets good eventually but I'm sure you'd agree that right now he sucks terribly, regardless of what the authors intend. So part of me feels like though Sally becomes one of my favourites later, and the writers had better followups they never wrote for the relationship mess, at this point if all you've got is what got written then people weren't necessarily "wrong" for disliking Sally

I’m having a hard time articulating this, but I don’t think it’s fair to pin the plethora of weak Sally stories from the late ‘90s and early ‘00s on Sally as a character. She didn’t make those stories bad. The writers who misunderstood her and mistreated her did. They made Sally a character who sat on the sidelines for years, when she was very explicitly created to do the opposite of that. We have plenty of older stories, in particular two whole seasons of SatAM, to show off her strengths as a character and what she was originally envisioned as. It’s the direction they took her in, and not the core of her character. Compare this to someone like Geoffrey, who was created specifically to show up Sonic and creep on Sally and didn’t do much else for years

I will admit that yes, many of the fans who hated Sally back in the day were probably newer fans who hadn’t read the old comics or seen SatAM. But there were still some okay Sally stories in the dark ages. Look at her freeing the Robians with the sword in #100, or her fighting by Sonic’s side in #125. In most stories she was just inoffensive. Not a highlight of the series or the worst thing ever, just A Character Who Was There

But I don’t think this gets to the root of the issue, which is that fandoms have a tendency to judge female characters way harsher than male ones

Why do you think there were “kill Sally” groups on DeviantArt after The Slap, but no such groups for characters like Geoffrey, a smarmy grown man who literally preyed on a teenage girl, or abusive parents like Locke or Max? You could say Sally’s a more prominent character than them, but from #50 - #159, I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Why was Sally yelling at Sonic and slapping him in the face treated as The Most Unforgivable Thing, while Locke taking his son from his family and abandoning him in the wilderness and Max trying to enact Robian genocide were largely forgotten? Or if you wanna get mad about characters “randomly changing personalities,” what about Antoine turning into a complete douche off-screen with no explanation and throwing Bunnie in the trash?

It’s the same shit we still see to this day. Male characters are given infinite second chances, while female characters aren’t allowed to be flawed or fuck up. It’s the reason why you’ll see people online espousing their love for Tony Stark one minute and then writing callout posts for Pearl from Steven Universe the next. And I’m not saying that Sally in the Penders/Bollers/Chacon/etc. era was that deep of a character, because she wasn’t. The writing was sloppy. But I’m saying that she fucked up once and fans literally, to this day, will not shut the hell up about it

#tkp post #anon #ask

142 notes · View notes

quercussp · 4 years

Text

Borderline

Rating: E

Word count: 3.7k

Summary:

Dan and Phil Rize Show (August 14th 2018):

D: It’s just because he’s used to having dozens of people having massive gangbangs and doing drugs, while we’re like, let’s play Mario Kart…

P: Speaking of, not gangbangs, but drugs, we went through the border into Canada on a bus…

D: Right, that’s going to be used out of context.

[…]

D: There was a guy from Canada, who was called Chan and he was our border agent.

P: Yeah, Dan loved Chan.

Authors note:

Happy Holidays @judearaya! I hope you like it <3

Written for the prompt: "I'd love something related to Dan's adorable reaction to Chan the customs and border protection officer that Dan and Phil talked about on Rize during II. Any heat level is fine by me, just pls no threesomes or cheating etc."

A gigantic thank you to my betas @templeofshame and @alittledizzy for encouragement and help. You both are absolutely wonderful.

Warnings: graphic sex, mentions of jealousy, teasing mentions of sex outside of the relationship (no actual sex with anyone else)

[read on ao3]

Being shaken awake at 2 am by a grumpy and sleepy Marianne was not a great way to start the morning. Or end the day? Does 2 am even count as morning? Being forced to exit the bus in their pajamas for the border patrol to inspect it in the middle of the night was even less appealing.

From his bunk, Phil could hear Marianne trying to persuade Dan to wake up and the characteristic moaning of “i don’t want to get upppp” that he has heard many times over the years. This tour had really taken a toll on both of them, and being awakened in the middle of the night, cutting the already short sleep time they had was no less than torture.

Phil searched around for his glasses in the dim light of the bus and found them somewhere under his pillow. He slid out of his bunk, put his feet halfway into his trainers, and pulled on a hoodie that was hanging in the kitchen. He stumbled out of the bus to join Martyn and the rest of the crew, all looking as sleepy and tired as he felt.

Dan was the last out of the bus and if Phil weren’t so exhausted, he would probably laugh at Dan’s appearance. His hair was sticking in every direction, he was wearing a pair of boxers, a wrinkled black t-shirt and some fluffy slippers, clutching to his pillow. He waddled off the bus and over to Phil, tripping in the process and grumbling something under his breath about “fucking shit fuck”.

Marianne was talking with one of the border officers, a middle aged lady with a surprisingly geometric haircut and an unsurprisingly tired face. She was flipping through their passports, comparing the photos with the group of people standing huddled outside of the bus and asking Marianne about the details of their trip. Even if he wanted to, Phil could not find the energy to keep track of their conversation. Marianne would deal with it. It’s her job, after all.

Just as the lady was preparing to take their passports inside her booth to get them stamped, another officer walked out and headed towards the group. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a Hollywood face. He was politely smiling at them as he walked towards the bus.

Phil heard an audible gasp next to him and felt a twinge of amusement mixed with annoyance. The man was definitely what he called “Dan’s type”.

“Hello, my name is Chan and I will be conducting a search of your vehicle today.” Of course Chan had a perfectly lovely Canadian accent, a lovely deep voice that came out of his absolutely perfect lips and an annoyingly gorgeous face.

“Chan! Like Dan but with no D… I mean, Dan name… my name, hah..” Dan replied trailing off and letting out a nervous giggle, all while trying to run his fingers through his hair as though to tame them, but accidentally dropping the pillow he was holding in the process.

Phil was not a jealous man. After being together for so long he never actually felt threatened by anyone. Dan was his and he was Dan’s, and that was something that was out of question. And he was not prone to irrational bouts of jealousy like Dan.

So usually when Dan tried to impress someone incredibly attractive, Phil just chuckled . Like the couple times Dan hung out with “the cool YouTubers,” he would make “edgy” jokes and toss his hair and blush adorably when someone said “Cool t-shirt, bro,” but he’d pretend to be totally cool about it. Honestly, Dan was adorable in his awkwardness and his stuttering and nervous laugh in the face of an attractive man would remind Phil of their first couple conversations, back before Dan felt safe enough to be himself with Phil, before Phil had the privilege of seeing Dan unafraid of being judged.

But sometimes, Dan’s fawning over people made Phil sincerely irritated. And it’s not what you’re thinking, it didn’t make him dream of having abs or being a “cool” person. It was just that this version of Dan, this fawny, joking, too cool for school type of Dan felt… like a stranger. And that stranger apparently didn’t think Phil was important enough to pay attention to him.

So Phil felt justified in rolling his eyes at Dan’s reaction to Chan, as Dan was currently trying to pick up the fallen pillow off of the ground while simultaneously pulling the hem of his shirt down to hide his boxers. He also accidentally let out a louder snort than he intended, making the entire group momentarily glance at him, and earning him a very dirty look from Dan.

Shut up said Dan’s eyes, and Phil could see the blush crawling onto Dan’s cheeks.

Chan politely chuckled at Dan’s stuttering, which made Dan get even redder.

“Now,” Chan continued, his expression turning serious. “Before I start the search, please let me know if you have anything illegal in your bus. If you have any drugs on board, please tell me right now.”

For some reason, when Chan was saying the last bit, everyone’s head turned to Phil, as though he was suddenly going to start unpacking bags of heroin from his pajama pockets.

“Why are you looking at me?” Phil said nervously, which turned out to be an incredibly stupid idea, as that seemed to only confirm to Chan that Phil was a drug mule or something.

“I promise I won’t be mad, just tell me if you have any drugs with you.” Chan was now talking directly to Phil.

Before Phil could reply (and probably say something even more stupid), Dan came to his rescue.

“We don’t do drugs, officer. I mean, sir. I mean, Chan.” Dan had managed to pass his pillow to a confused looking Martyn and looked way more awake than 5 minutes ago, his voice now clear (and flirty). “But you’re welcome to search us if you would like.”

Oh my God, Dan. Phil shot him a disgusted look. He kind of wished someone was recording this interaction, as he could probably use it to blackmail Dan into taking out the trash for years.

However, Chan apparently didn’t think that Dan’s line was as horrific as Phil thought, as he glanced at Dan with a smile, eyes traveling up and down his body and his (very much naked) legs, and replied teasingly, “Oh, I definitely will.”

Phil felt another spike of annoyance. Maybe it was the secondhand embarrassment. Or maybe the reason Phil was annoyed was because Dan looked like he just rolled out of bed (which he did), he was sleepy and rumpled looking, and that version of Dan was only for Phil to see. They all could get the polished, designer-clothing-wearing Dan, but Phil was the one who was supposed to see the little crusties in Dan’s eyes and traces of drool on his lips. That was for his eyes only.

Chan shifted his attention back to Phil, for some reason, and continued: “Do you have any firearms? And explosives? Toxic substances? Alcohol or marihuanna?”

At this point, Phil could hear Martyn chuckling from behind him. If Phil was less sleepy and tired, he would probably laugh and make an awkward joke about having Truth Bombs on board, but this version of Phil just wanted this to be over, to go back to his bunk and hopefully persuade Dan to climb in with him so he could put his hands under that stupid t-shirt and feel the smooth skin of Dan’s side. Stupid Chan.

“No, we don’t have anything,” Phil replied, sounding more annoyed than he meant to, but Chan seemed to get the message as he nodded and walked towards the entrance to the bus .

“Can one of you come with me to take a look at the vehicle? Maybe the leader of your band?” Chan asked, looking directly at Dan.

Both Martyn and Marianne let out an audible laugh, but Dan was quick to step forward saying “Sure!”, losing one of his slippers in the process and then blushing even more deeply while strutting over to Chan.

They both stepped on to the bus at the same time, awkwardly bumping into each other and grinning.

“After you,” Dan said with an exaggerated hand motion and bow.

“Thank you!” replied Chan and climbed onto the bus first, with Dan following shortly after.

As soon as they were both gone, Martyn and Marianne exploded with laughter.

“Leader of our band, my ass.” Martyn said, stumbling over his words through his laughter, wiping tears out of his eyes with Dan’s pillow he was still holding.

“Phil, sorry, you’re the backup singer now,” Marianne added, also laughing. “Chan is awfully good looking, isn’t he?” She continued a bit quieter, raising her eyebrows at Phil.

“Maybe he’ll become our groupie,” Phil replied. He meant to say it in a joking way, but for some reason it came out darker than he wanted.

Martyn put a hand on Phil’s shoulder and gave it a firm grip.

“Here bro, you carry your man’s pillow, I’m not his maid.”

And I am? Phil wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut and just grabbed the pillow out of Martyn’s hands.

He wandered off a bit to sit at a nearby bench and put the pillow in his lap, and his head in his hands. He could feel a migraine coming and he desperately needed sleep. Or maybe it was his annoyance that was making him so cross. Either way, at this particular moment Phil felt like he was just over it. The whole thing. The tour, the bus, the travel, the fans. He desperately craved his own bed, his own sheets, the smell of their laundry detergent. And his Dan. Soft and squishy. With a kind smile and big warm hands that he would comb Phil’s hair with when his head hurt.

He almost dozed off at some point, until he heard the unmistakable sound of Dan’s slightly nervous laughter. He looked up to see Dan and Chan coming off the bus, both smiling and excitedly talking about something.

Dan had apparently found the time to put on some trousers (thank God for small miracles) and was nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

Phil pulled together all the energy he had left and stood up to walk towards the group.

“Well, I have to say,” Phil heard Chan tell them, “this is the cleanest band bus I’ve ever inspected.” As Phil walked up, Chan turned to him and smiled (with his annoyingly perfect smile). “No drugs and firearms indeed”.

“I told you we’re boring nerds,” Dan replied, before Phil could even open his mouth.

“Nerds, maybe. But definitely not boring,” Chan said with what Phil could swear was a quick wink and a slight toss of his hair.

“Well, you’re all set, ladies and gentlemen. You can proceed as soon as my colleague returns with your passports. It was nice to meet you all; best of luck on your tour!”

Fuck that man and his stupid hair, Phil thought to himself. But he said, “Thank you, have a good day” instead, and started walking towards the entrance to the bus.

“It was nice meeting you, Chan!” he could hear Dan say behind him.

Phil’s head was really hurting at this point. He climbed onto the bus and made his way to the bunks, rubbing his temples. Throwing Dan’s pillow in the general direction of Dan’s bunk, he climbed into his own bed with a groan and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he actually passed out for a moment, because the next thing he felt was the bus jolting into movement and the rest of the crew walking around the bus and settling back into bed. After a few minutes the curtain to his bunk was pulled aside and Dan sat down at the edge of Phil’s bed.

“Phil, you ok?” he asked. His cheeks were still a bit red, and he was slightly sweaty.

“‘M fine, just tired,” Phil replied, rolling onto his side to make more room for Dan to sit.

They sat quietly for a moment, until Dan whispered: “He was so hot.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile, despite how annoyed he was. “He was? I didn’t notice, Dan. Not with you being totally chill about it and everything”. The dim light of the bus lights was enough to see Dan’s face flush with heat.

“Shut up, Phil, I wasn’t that bad… was I?” he asked after a pause, his voice slightly wavering.

“You did offer to let him search you, Dan, so…”

Dan groaned in response and hid his face in his hands. Even though a part of Phil wanted to continue to tease Dan, he could see that he was genuinely embarrassed. And teasing Dan was no fun if Dan wasn’t also having fun.

“You weren’t that bad, babe. And even if you were, he seemed to like you.” Phil rubbed a soothing hand over Dan’s back. With another groan Dan shifted to lie next to Phil on the bunk, squeezing him all the way against the wall.

“I said ‘nice arms’ when he was picking up the suitcases up,” Dan moaned as he pressed his face into Phil’s neck. “I shouldn’t be allowed to speak, Phil, he probably thought I was a total idiot.”

“He would be right, wouldn’t he?” Phil’s arm ended up around Dan’s waist, and he slid his hand under the t-shirt to feel the warmth of his side .

“Are you mad?” Dan asked uncertainly, raising his face so he could look Phil in the eyes.

“My head hurts,” Phil replied. He knew it wasn’t an answer, but he also didn’t want to admit that he was a bit annoyed. He knew most of it was just tiredness, and he would get over it soon, but Dan felt bad enough as it is.

“You should get some sleep,” Dan whispered, threading his hands through Phil’s hair. Phil couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, we both should.” Dan slowly unfolded himself from the bunk and closed the curtain behind him. Phil could hear him climbing into his own bed and shifting around just above him.

Phil fell asleep almost immediately.

***

They arrived at their hotel in the early hours of the morning. They grabbed their keycards from the reception and started dragging their suitcases to their room.

“Rehearsal in 5 hours guys, don’t forget!” Marianne called after them. 5 hours is fine. Phil could work with 5 hours.

Dan went to shower first, while Phil started unpacking. He was finished gathering the outfit he would wear today for the meet and greet just as Dan got out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his skin pink and his hair wet. He threw the towel on an armchair in the room and fell onto the bed with a satisfied moan.

“Do you think we have time for a nap?” He asked Phil, who was in the process of shedding his clothing to go shower too.

“Probably. I definitely need one, didn’t sleep much.”

“Me too,” replied Dan with a yawn. “Pass me some pants, will you?”

Phil pushed Dan’s suitcase open with his foot and pulled out a random pair of underwear. He threw it at Dan and went to shower himself.

Phil felt almost human again after a nice long soak in the shower. He came out into the room to see Dan lying comfortably on his stomach on the bed, only in his pants, scrolling through his phone. Dan’s back was arched from holding his torso up on his elbows, and Phil could see the slight movement of Dan’s muscles when he was shifting in his position. His hair had dried into thousands of small curls and the black of his Calvin Kleins brightly contrasted with his pale skin. Phil stood there watching Dan for a bit before climbing onto the bed and squeezing Dan’s butt with both hands, causing Dan to yelp and turn around.

“Keep your hands to yourself, mister,” Dan joked, pulling Phil in close and arranging their bodies so they were lying facing each other.

“Will do no such thing,” Phil replied, continuing to grope his boyfriend’s behind and nuzzling into his neck. Dan’s skin was smooth and warm, and he smelled like his shower gel and also like their apartment a little bit. Or maybe it was the apartment that smelled like Dan. Either way, running his hands over Dan’s body and breathing in his smell, Phil felt as though he was almost home. He ran his hands over Dan’s groin and felt that he was half hard. With a familiar movement, Phil grabbed him through his briefs and started slowly jerking him off.

“You’re hot,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear, giving his earlobe a little nip.

“And you’re tired,” Dan replied with a chuckle, placing little kisses over Phil’s face.

“I’m not too tired for this,” Phil whispered and firmly pressed his lips against Dan’s. Dan just laughed.

After a bit, Dan pushed himself away to pull off his underwear and rolled on top of Phil. He pressed their naked groins together and started moving his hips slightly, creating some friction. With a slight moan, Phil wrapped one of his arms around Dan’s back, and brushed the other through his hair, pulling him even closer for a kiss. They grinded lazily against each other for a couple minutes, until Dan pushed his hand between them and grabbed their lengths in a practiced motion. He started methodically moving his hand around both of them, with the exact tempo that he knew worked best for both of them. In almost no time, Phil felt himself coming with a gasp, throwing his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. He felt Dan sit up, positioning himself on Phil’s hips, and Phil heard the sound of Dan wanking himself off.

“Here, let me,” Phil said, reaching towards Dan and pushing his hand out of the way. He grabbed Dan’s dick and moved his hand with the rotating motion he knew would bring Dan off the fastest. Sure enough, just a minute or two later, Dan shuddered and came over Phil’s stomach, already wet from his own cum.

Dan slid off of him and fell back onto the bed with a loud sigh. They both lay next to each other, catching their breath for a bit.

“That was fun.” Dan finally broke the silence, pressing a small kiss to Phil’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” Phil breathed out. He felt like he was soaking up the warmth of Dan’s body lying next to him. Dan was sweaty and disheveled, with his dick lying limply to his side and his entire body flushed. He looked open and vulnerable and worn out. He was also stunningly beautiful. And his. Phil was feeling warm and content, and could feel the last bits of annoyance from last night seeping out of his body, leaving him heavy and sleepy. “It’s not like we’re busy every single moment of every day.”

Dan chuckled and kissed Phil’s shoulder again. “We’re almost done. Maybe after the tour we can go crazy and like actually fuck.”

“Now don’t get any wild ideas,” Phil teased, brushing his hand through Dan’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss before lying back down and letting out a contented sigh.

Dan reached for the towel he threw off before and passed it to Phil so he could clean up. They settled under the covers, with Phil’s head lying against Dan shoulders, limbs thrown over each other, just letting their bodies stretch out and rest.

After a bit, Dan spoke out of nowhere. '”Chan said he liked our poster.”

Phil lifted up on his elbows and looked at Dan, and then barked out a laugh.

“Is that what you were thinking about while we were fucking? Chan?”

“What? No! I was just thinking of what I’m gonna wear today and he said he liked… Stop laughing!”

“Did you imagine his perfect muscles while I was jerking you off, Dan? Were you thinking of him the entire time?” Phil couldn’t stop laughing.

Dan poked Phil in the side. “Fuck you, Phil! I wasn’t…”

“Oh, you want Chan to fuck me, Dan? I didn’t know you were into that. Were you dreaming of a gangbang with Chan? Tell me Danny, is that what your most secret desire is?”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m gonna divorce you!”

Phil just continued laughing, pulling Dan close. “It’s ok, Danny, I’m not going to kinkshame you. If you want to play out a fantasy where a patrol agent strip searches you, we can do that. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“Phil, actually fuck off.” Dan’s voice was pissed, but Phil could see that he was trying to stop himself from smiling a bit, and his cheeks got very red.

“It’s ok, Dan, I’m not judging.” Phil pressed a kiss to the rosy patch on Dan’s cheek.

“I hate you,” said Dan, rolling away and turning his back to Phil.

Phil just slid behind Dan and draped his arm and leg over his partner, spooning him close. He was still chuckling a bit, and Dan automatically pulled Phil’s arm tighter around him and intertwined their fingers.

“We should set an alarm,” Phil said quietly, feeling like he’s about to drift off.

“Marianne will wake us,” Dan replied. He took a long pause and then said quietly, “You know I don’t want anyone else, right?”

Phil just laughed again. “Dan, don’t be an idiot.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Dan’s neck. “Just a gangbang with Chan the border patrol man.”

“At least I didn’t puke in my mouth,” Dan said teasingly, to which Phil gave him a rough poke in the side.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“Just saying,” Dan’s voice was drifting off. In a matter of minutes they were both asleep.

#phan #phanfiction #my fic #phandom fic fests holiday exchange

46 notes · View notes

christinaengela · 4 years

Text

Hello friends and fans!

Welcome to my 45th newsletter – September 2020!

On A Personal Note

August was a blurry month – it really doesn’t feel like September, it feels more like March the 342nd! Know what I mean? Anyway, between work and everything else I have going on the side, the last six months or so have literally disappeared! For most people, this year has been a complete loss, for me I’ve at least published 7 new titles. Not to brag, but this brings my tally up to 30 books!

On the home front, my workshop is where I indulge my creative side in wood and metal work. Some years ago however, I got sick and tired of sharing my workspace with the rest of the garage! When it rained, it meant I couldn’t run my vintage bug outside, and the small space available meant I wouldn’t be able to work in there that day! About two years ago, I built a greenhouse against the side of the house across the alleyway between the house wall and the boundary wall, bordering on the back garden, which in the end my love convinced me to use as a workshop space instead! For the past two years, this has been where I worked on various projects, regardless of the weather. The only problem with that was again, space. While I had more permanently accessible space to keep my tools and to work, quite a lot of my tools were actually kept in shelving under the work benches. I needed more space – or to be more specific, a broader room to work in.

So, finally, last week I finally gave up on the bar area. It was where we entertained friends and it consisted of an actual bar room with an adjoining dining area with casual benches and a table for when we had barbeques etc. It’s been a considerable amount of time since we’ve entertained anyone who drinks, and neither of us actually drinks much more than a brandy now and then – scarcely enough to warrant wasting the useful premium real-estate on a bar! It would be far better to just dedicate a cupboard inside the house to housing the drinks, glasses and accoutrements – and all my collectibles, antique cameras and telephones etc. on the walls could be redistributed around the rest of the house.

That said, Wendy could have her greenhouse back – and so last week I relocated my workshop to the larger space where I have more room to work on projects and store and organize my tools and materials! For the first time, I feel I actually have the right space to indulge my creativity! The adjoining stoop will still be reserved for chats, game nights and barbeques – should they ever arise again.

Aside from that little personal ramble ,I also have some very good writing-related news to share with you this time – another two of my books have come out as audiobooks, and I’ve also published a new novelette called “Lifetime”! Moon Books also released an anthology I was the Editor for, so it’s really been a productive year for me so far!

Art

I also indulge in painting from time to time – and no, I don’t mean walls! The following paintings are in my portfolio:

#gallery-0-13 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-13 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 20%; } #gallery-0-13 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-13 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

“Human Nature” 2017 A4 acrylic canvas

“Balancier” 2020 A2 acrylic canvas

“Rescuer” 2020 A2 acrylic canvas

“The Awakening” 2020 A2 acrylic canvas

“The Earth Wept” 2020 40x40cm acrylic on canvas

You can read more about my art projects on the Art page.

What do you think of them? Feel free to let me know!

Music

Yes – I also make music from time to time!

A selection of music tracks I made using eJay and other similar apps between 1999 – 2008 are available on my YouTube channel.

You can read more on the Music page on my website!

Activism

For those of you interested in my activism-related posts and activities, you can follow them at “Sour Grapes: The Fruit Of Ignorance“.

Current Writing Projects

On a suggestion of Brandon Mullins from Moon Books, I agreed to a combined edition of “Duck Blind” and “The Next Room”, to replace the two novellas published in February this year. The new book is novel length at over 46000 words, and I also wrote a short foreword and an introductory portion to precede the first part of the story.

As I mentioned several times previously, I have still a lot of work to do! I have a number of part-way completed stories awaiting my loving attention! Unfortunately, life and work have a nasty habit of getting in the way!

Also, thanks to Lulu.com’s spite in throwing their entire publishing platform into a mincer and expecting users to just shut up and like it, I have left the platform entirely – but aside from the immense amount of work that precipitated on my side with having to relocate all my books from there to other platforms, it also means I’ll have to rebuild one of my books entirely from the ground up! “The Pitfalls of South African Self-Publishing” is now out of print thanks to Lulu. Why? Because the second half of the book details the ease of self-publishing using Lulu’s old platform – the one they entirely scrapped and replaced with a vague, useless monstrosity – and gives a step-by-step example with screenshots, and is practically a love-letter to Lulu! I will now have to redraft that entire portion of the book, thanks to them!

In the past week or so I’ve been working on an editing project for Moon Books, and you can read more about that in the next section.

Editing

I completed editing an anthology for Moon Books in mid-August entitled “Moon Books Horror Anthology V”. This book contains 7 short stories filled with pure dread – and it was released on 20 August. It’s already available in eBook and paperback.

Currently I’m close to finishing the edit of a sci-fi tale for Moon Books. “Avenging Aranis” is by UK writer Steve McElhenny, and it’s the first part of a trilogy!

Marketing – The Dreaded “M” Word!

Portfolio 2020!

I thought it would be nice if I could produce a neat, organized catalog of all my books that interested parties could download and browse – a free, distributable and shareable catalog, and so I created “Portfolio 2020!” – a listing of all my currently available titles!

Portfolio is more than that though, because it also contains a biography as well as synopses for most of my titles – and I have a plan to update it regularly, perhaps on an annual basis! Portfolio 2020 is available as a free download from my website.

Videos

In August, Nigel Peever made this amazing audiobook trailer video for the newly released “Demonspawn” – have a look, isn’t it beautiful?

https://christinaengela.files.wordpress.com/2020/08/demonspawn-video-by-nigel-peever.mp4

Sales

Let’s start with the good news! Audiobook sales over July were truly amazing – with a massive (by my previous standards) 42 copies of “Blachart” sold from Audible during that month! This frenetic surge in sales didn’t last very long, just to the end of July, with just 3 sales of that book in August. I realize a slowdown is inevitable as a new title stops being new. In fact, August proved to be rather dull in comparison, with just 3 sales of “Blachart“, and 3 sales of a new audiobook title, “When Darkness Calls“. This of course led me to formulate a new personal theory regarding sales, popularity and choice of narrator when publishing an audiobook – one I will probably explore later in the second edition of “The Pitfalls of South African Self-publishing”, which I am working on as time allows.

But I digress! Ebooks sales on Ebooks2go have picked up a bit over August since I transferred my titles there at the start of the month, culminating in three whole sales (sarcasm definitely intended). To give you an idea how writers get ripped off by some distribution channels, just check out the screenshot below:

The three top-most entries show three eBook sales via Hoopla – and each of those titles sold for $2.99. What do I get out of it? 14 US cents out of $2.99 per sale! It’s positively downright bloody criminal! For comparison, the one beneath that – a sale via B&N at least gave me $1.64 out of $2.99 – but only one of those from July. No wonder so many writers give up!

Over-all though, I’ve got the idea that sales have been dwindling globally and not just for me, so I’m by no means feeling picked on. I realize that with economies teetering on the brink of disaster – and so many of my contacts on Facebook posting the sad news that they will be homeless and sleeping in their cars or on the streets within days – how very, very lucky I am. I may not be raking it in as an author – but at least I have a secure job, for which I’m very thankful indeed!

Publishing

These are the books I’ve released so far this year!

#gallery-0-14 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-14 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 16%; } #gallery-0-14 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-14 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Between January and September 2020 I released eight new titles! Of these, two – “Duck Blind” and “The Next Room” have been replaced by one combined title, “Mirror, Mirror” which includes both of them. Of course, this reduces my count back to 30 again – but when you already have 30 or so books to your name, what’s one here or there?

New Releases:

“Lifetime”

On August 07 Moon Books Publishing released a novella of mine called “Lifetime“, bringing my title-count up to 30! Here’s a look at the back cover blurb for the book:

“An entrepreneurial couple, happily married, run their deep-space prospecting company together. They are unexpectedly separated when the ship one of them is aboard is lost during a prospecting voyage. The other spares no effort in an attempt to find her, and immediately sets out on another ship to find her. Meanwhile on a remote planet, surrounded by wreckage and the bodies of her crewmates, she has survived and treated her injuries, and fights to stay alive while she awaits rescue…”

Buy now: eBook Paperback Audiobook (coming soon)

“Lifetime” is available in ebook and paperback and will be coming out in audiobook format soon, narrated by Miciah Dodge.

“Mirror, Mirror”

This was shortly thereafter followed by another new title “Mirror, Mirror”, on August 11, which repackages “Duck Blind” and “The Next Room” into one single novel-length book. “Duck Blind” and “The Next Room” are also now out of print – being henceforth exclusively available in “Mirror, Mirror”.

Buy now: eBook Paperback Audiobook (coming soon)

Here’s a look at the description:

“Things aren’t always as they seem. Neither was Charlie Branson – or Andy Niksn.

Outwardly, Charlie appeared to be the successful, respected, somewhat over-paid Captain of a commercial space liner.

In truth, it was 2025 – space liners did not yet exist, and the space liner Freedom was really just a very expensive set – a fancy simulator for wealthy clients the company took on simulated cruises into deep space to forget the real world for a while, to get away from it all – and they loved them for it!

In an atmosphere where people were locked away from reality for weeks at a time, and cos-playing and roleplaying redefined ‘normal’, telling fact and fantasy apart became more complicated than expected. For those who preferred the pleasant escape from the harsh realities of life outside, like Charlie, wishing it could all just be real became something almost like a prayer.

Andy Niksn, by contrast, was the very successful respected and somewhat over-paid Captain of an actual commercial space liner in the year 2773. Trouble was, Andy felt trapped! He was in a relationship – a dead-end partnership that had no future and promised both even less happiness. On top of that, his friend Jim had died recently, leaving Andy in the darkest place he’d ever been – and he didn’t mean space!

Andy wished he could just wake up to a different reality where everything could make sense again! For Andy, this too became something almost like a prayer!

As it turned out, someone heard them.

The answer wasn’t quite what they expected.”

Audiobooks

#gallery-0-15 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-15 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 25%; } #gallery-0-15 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-15 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

“All That Remains” JEA (2019)

“See Them Aliens” MBP (2019)

“Blachart” MBP (2020)

“When Darkness Calls” (2020)

“Demonspawn” MBP (2020)

On August 7th I received the completed audiobook of book 2 in the Galaxii series, “Demonspawn“, narrated (and dramatized) by Nigel Peever! The audiobook was finally released on August 31, and it was worth every minute I waited for it!

Nigel has also committed to narrating book 3 in Galaxii, after the five or so other books he has waiting in the queue, so he should only get round to that one somewhere around January ’21. In the meantime, that gives me time to work on Galaxii book 4! 😉

On August 20, “When Darkness Calls“, narrated by Miciah Dodge, was released via Audible! You can read more about it here.

Coming Soon

In the meantime, here’s a look at the covers for hot new audiobooks currently in the pipeline:

#gallery-0-16 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-16 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 25%; } #gallery-0-16 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-16 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

“Malice!” (2020) COMING SOON!

“Lifetime” (2020) COMING SOON!

Stay tuned for updates!

Reviews

You can see all my previous reviews here.

Currently Available Titles

I now have 30 unique titles available in 4 series (not including books I’ve been the editor for, and my 16 free promotional items)! My books are available in three different formats: EBooks, Paperbacks and Audiobooks. Click the links or images below to view titles available in these formats.

Communication

Below are links to a few of my most recent posts and articles since my last newsletter:

New Release: Demonspawn Audiobook

New Release: When Darkness Calls Audiobook

New Release: Horror Anthology V

Sinotec SJ86C LED Projector Review

New Release: Lifetime by Christina Engela

New Release: Mirror, Mirror by Christina Engela

“Demonspawn” Audiobook Now In For Review!

New Release: Lifetime by Christina Engela

Some Great Resources For Writers

Another Round At The Crow Bar #44 August 2020

If you want to see more articles, just click on the category links below:

Elements of Horror

FAQ Answered

Fun Facts

LGBT Heroes

The Tech Side

Secret Weapons of the Resistance

Writing Advice

Guest Writers

Newsletters

Interactions

Fan Mail, Reader Reviews & Honorable Mentions

I found the following awesome items to show you this month!

Great Book July 20, 2020 review on Audible for “Blachart” (audiobook):

Excellent story! “This is a very well written Sci-Fi tale that is told by an awesome narrator. I can’t wait to hear book 2!” – D. Sturgeon, Aug 13, 2020 on Audible for “Blachart” (audiobook).

Epic!!! “Another great tale told by narrator Nigel Peever. I look forward to the continuing Adventures of Blachart and Michael.” – Justin Bradley, Aug 16, 2020 on Audible for “Blachart” (audiobook).

Great Narrator “The story is pretty creepy, it takes place in South Africa. I’ve never heard haunting stories from this area. It’s a fun little story if you’re doing a drive on a dark night. The narration sounded excellent, and the protagonist in the story wasn’t taking no crap from the evil dead!” – Jeff Spencer, Aug 21, 2020 on Audible for “When Darkness Calls” (audiobook).

I display my Fan Mail, Reviews & Compliments with pride, gratitude and humility. You’re always welcome to have a look.

Hate Mail & Horrible Mentions

I’m rather proud of my hate mail, and you can review my collection here – but be forewarned, don’t do it while eating or drinking, or you might choke while laughing!

Interviews

All my interviews are linked to from this page. If you would like to do an interview with me about my work, please do get in touch!

In Closing

Well, that’s all for this time, folks! 🙂

Thanks again for all your support, friendship and interaction!

Feel free to email or message me via Facebook, Twitter or LinkedIn if you have any comments or questions!

Until next time, keep reading!

Cheers! 🙂

Catch me on social media!

If you would like to know more about Christina Engela and her writing, please feel free to browse her website.

If you’d like to send Christina Engela a question about her life as a writer or transactivist, please send an email to [email protected] or use the Contact form.

Show your appreciation for Christina’s work!

Another Round At The Crow Bar #45 September 2020 Hello friends and fans! Welcome to my 45th newsletter - September 2020!

1 note · View note