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munson-blurbs · 8 months

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Hey can I do one of the spirit Halloween requests. Sour Patch Kids/Butterfinger. And can it be with Eddie please. Can include smut if that's OK. Thank you 😊

Enemies-to-Lovers/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson

(+ 3 other anon requests)

I couldn't figure out a way to make it smutty without it seeming forced, but there are definitely some raunchy elements. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Eddie is mean to Reader, allusion to masturbation (18+ only, minors DNI), Reader wears a skirt

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Absolutely not.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, a sneer cursing his lips.

“Come on, man!” Mike grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I told Nancy I’d help her out.”

Eddie scoffs, turning away from you and your best friend’s younger brother. “Yeah, well, I didn’t promise shit,” he retorts. “We don’t need anymore players, and we definitely don’t need her.”

Your lower lip quivers, and you bite it to stop from crying. “I, um, i-it’s okay, Mike,” you hurriedly reassure him. “I’ll tell Nancy you tried.” You turn around and leave the drama room, tears blurring your vision.

“What the hell is your problem?” Mike yells loud enough that you can hear him halfway down the hallway, despite the pounding in your ears. “Nancy said she’s really into DnD. She could, I dunno, be our sub when Lucas has a game or something.”

“Am I speaking a different language? No. N-O. Not happening.”

Gareth cocks a bemused brow. “Are you still pissed off about—”

“SHUT UP!” Eddie’s bellow reverberates around the tiny room. “Look, are we gonna play or not?”

“I gotta go make sure she’s okay before Nancy kicks my ass,” Mike huffs, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Thanks for nothing,” he spits at Eddie.

No one says anything for a moment; the Hellfire Club is eerily silent. Finally, Jeff speaks up. “That was pretty harsh, Ed.”

“That was harsh?!” Eddie guffaws and clenches his jaw. “Me telling her she can’t join Hellfire is harsh, but she can talk shit about me to her friends, and that’s totally fine? Cool, got it.” He shakes his head at the memory. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been walking to your locker to ask you out, only to overhear you telling Nancy that you wish he would disappear and leave you alone.

“Why do you even care so much?” Lucas asks, now thoroughly invested in the drama.

“Because he loves her,” Gareth pipes up, “and she thinks he’s an obnoxious prick, which is accurate.” He’s unfazed by Eddie’s glare, having been on the receiving end of his anger many a time. “Dude, you embarrassed the shit outta her in history! Why would she be nice to you?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Eddie insists at the same time Gareth says, “As soon as she walked into class, he jumped on his desk and shouted, ‘there’s the prettiest girl in Hawkins!’”

All of the guys let out a collective groan. “You can’t do that with a shy girl!” Lucas groans. If Eddie wasn’t six inches taller than him, he’d smack him upside the head. “Max would kick my ass if I did that to her.”

“She probably thought you were making fun of her,” Dustin points out, and Eddie’s face falls when everyone else nods in agreement. “Have you tried, like, talking to her and not at her?”

“No,” Eddie admits, scuffing the toe of his Reeboks on the tile floor. “Shit, I gotta fix this–I’ll be right back.”

You’re nearly at the double doors of Hawkins High’s entrance when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and muster up all of your courage, but your words still rush out too quickly. “I’m gonna tell Nancy that Hellfire wasn’t my scene. You’re in the clear, okay? Just…go away.”

But he doesn’t go away; he comes closer. The anger that previously flamed behind his eyes is extinguished, replaced by concern. “Can we talk?” he softly asks. “We can go in my van so it’s more private. Please.”

“Fine.” The desperation in his tone convinces you to give in. You follow him to the van, offering him the smallest smile when he opens the door and motions for you to go inside. Pushing aside a stray guitar pick, you take a seat on the carpeted floor.

Eddie takes a deep breath, twisting his rings around his fingers nervously. “I, um, I’m sorry. For, y’know, the whole thing in history class.”

You suck your lip between your teeth before responding. “S’okay,” you mumble. You really want to tell him off so he knows how hurt you were by his teasing, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

“No, it’s not. I…I should’ve told you when it was just the two of us,” he counters, drawing a confused look from you. “What?”

“Told me what?”

“That I think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” He offers his own puzzled expression when you scramble to your knees and lean for the door handle. “Wait! Where’re you going?”

There’s a lump in your throat that you force yourself to swallow before you can speak. “This is obviously a big joke to you, Eddie. ‘Ha ha, let’s point out how ugly the nerdy girl is!’”

“No. No.” Eddie’s voice is firm but kind. “It wasn’t a joke. I really think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. And I like you. A lot,” he adds with a nervous laugh. “That whole, uh, performance was my way of flirting.”

You’re still unconvinced, cocking a brow in disbelief, so he continues. “How about this: since I embarrassed you, I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret. And if I’m lying about liking you, you can tell everybody.”

You relent for the second time today. “O-Okay. That’s fair.”

“All right.” Eddie rubs his palms on his jeans, slick with anxious perspiration. “So, remember that time that I got to class, all…sweaty and out of breath and stuff?”

You nod. “Mhm.” He’d told Mrs. Click that he’d been in gym class, but you knew he’d just come from lunch like you had. You’d figured he’d had a deal out in the woods and ran back to school.

“Well, um,” he looks down at the carpet, “it was because I saw you in the cafeteria wearing this cute little skirt, and I had to…take care of myself. In the boys’ room.” He presses his palms to his eyes and says, mostly to himself, “No fuckin’ way did I just admit that.”

You’re shell-shocked. Like joining Hellfire, the skirt in question was another one of Nancy’s ideas to ease you out of your comfort zone. You had no idea he’d even noticed. “Y-You liked it?” you ask dumbly.

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Eddie chuckles. “I gotta stop thinkin’ about it before…” His eyes drop to the zipper of his jeans, a small tent already visible against the seam, and he hurries to switch subjects. “D’you still wanna play DnD with us? I promise I’m usually less of a dick. And a perv.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I have my doubts about that last part,” you tease, only half-joking, “but, yeah. I would love to play with you guys.”

“Awesome.” Eddie’s face lights up. “And maybe after, you and I can grab something to eat? Maybe catch a movie or somethin’?”

Before you can chicken out, you kiss his cheek. “It’s a date.”

The two of you walk back into the school, Eddie’s hand on the small of your back. “Oh, um, one more thing?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you change into that skirt?”

#trope or treat #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #smut #eddie munson angst

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dawneternal · 4 months

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I Have Loved You For the Last Time

Sad Eris ✅

Gay Eris ✅

Soft boy Eris ✅

Based on the theory that Mor and Eris had secretly agreed to a lavender marriage. Forgot Eris's hounds are supposed to be big don't roast me

TW: angst, homophobia, loss of a loved one, inner circle critical (from Eris' perspective)

Word Count: 1.4k

Eris pulled his scarf up to cover his nose and nuzzled into it. The autumn wind was bitingly cold today, as if it was also restless with grief. It pressed against him as he walked, as if to say

we know we know we know

The sun cast golden light along the path, illuminating each fallen leaf with tender care. Bare tree branches twisted into a sparse canopy, fracturing the sunshine as it fell. The bittersweet smell of decaying leaves mingled with the scent of distant swaying wheat fields. All carried on that fluttering wind.

Eris looked down at the hound that walked by his side, donning a little plaid cloak to protect against the cold. So content to follow him wherever he went, looking up at her master every once in a while with only admiration and eagerness in her eyes. The most loyal creature he had ever met.

The path curved toward the edge of the woods and Eris pushed through the wards at the treeline. He entered the protection of the little clearing and let out a deep sigh. From the outside, the clearing was empty. If his father, or anyone else, ever tried to enter it they'd be struck with a sudden headache so fierce they'd forget what they were doing in the first place.

But Beron would never bother with this corner of the autumn court. A place where the High Lady used to play in her childhood. Inside it, hidden from prying eyes, sat the ruins of a beloved hand-made play house. And beside it, two gravestones.

There were no bodies buried here, only the stones for visiting and remembering. Away from cruel brothers and guards who would only ever be loyal to the High Lord. Away from that complex world of secrets and games, weaving as wide as the halls of the sprawling Forest House and wider all the time. Here, it could be simple for a moment.

Eris ran his hand across one of the gravestones and murmured a blessing. His fingertips brushed over the name carved into it.

Jesminda

He wondered about her sometimes. What her family had been told about her death. If they knew anything at all, if they blamed Lucien for it. Nevertheless, the flowers he had sent to Jesminda's family on her birthdays were always anonymous. It was something he did more for himself than anyone else. But he did it anyways, though it did little to lessen the deep well of guilt inside him. Neither did enchanting the flowers that grew on her grave to never wilt or die. Forever blooming, like Jesminda was supposed to be.

Eris knelt on the ground before the other gravestone. His hound sat next to him and leaned into his side, as if she remembered what it meant when they came here and knew he would need the support. Eris mindlessly stroked the little beast's fur and lost himself in his memories.

This second stone was not marked. He could not have anyone carve it. Some knew of Jesminda's story -- Lucien's young love and her untimely death. But no one would ever know of Sebastian, the one who held Eris's heart. No one but Beron. And Lucien, the nosy busybody.

It was Beron's doing that no one knew of Sebastian. Jesminda, he could turn into an example. But Sebastian's existence infuriated and shamed Beron so thoroughly that he had any evidence of his life wiped from the Autumn Court. Like mud scrubbed from the palace's polished floors.

Sometimes Eris wondered if his father had gone as far as to have Sebastian's family's memories erased. If Beron had known that his youngest son was in on the secret, Lucien would surely have been made to forget. But Beron would not make Eris forget. Eris's punishment was to remember.

Of course, it was Eris's fault. He thought he could juggle it all, keep it all secret and safe. But Beron had found the one loose thread and pulled until he had discovered the whole truth and Sebastian was lost to him forever. Perhaps part of him had hoped Beron would not react so terribly. After all, Sebastian was from a noble family. He was proper and polite and trained perfectly. An ideal match for a High Lord. Except, of course, that he was male.

A tear slipped down Eris's cheek. This was the reason for the impenetrable wards. So he could let his tears fall and not immediately be torn apart. He let out a bitter laugh as he remembered his reputation -- cold, petty, and unfeeling. And yet here he was, crying over the empty grave of his lost love and a lesser fae girl he had barely known.

It was Morrigan who had started that reputation, keeping his character in a chokehold with the stories she spread about him. Twisted and incomplete, painting him in such a cruel light.

Such dark bitterness filled him with the memory of the Night Court. He thought about them often, more than they deserved. More than he wanted to. Like it was a habit.

That infernal inner circle, drunk on happiness that he would never have. Even brooding Azriel had more tenderness in his life than Eris could ever hope for. Azriel, who had wrapped his hands around Eris's throat and kept squeezing, even as Eris laid still and did not fight back. He had not wanted to spit those venomous words. Had not wanted to taste them in his mouth. But Beron was always watching, and he must keep up the appearance of a grudge against Morrigan, his "ruined" bride. So Eris let himself be Azriel's punching bag just for the show, knowing that he deserved it anyways.

But then Azriel had the gall to act like a wounded animal, comforted and calmed by the High Lady. He had sat by her, been served by her. And none of their circle seemed to see how ridiculous it looked, watching them all play house together at a High Lord's meeting. It was a joke, all of it.

An inner circle that would die for him. A mate that would tear apart courts for him. A city of peace filled with lovely trivial things, plagued by only the smallest of worries.

And he wanted it. All of it.

"You're all I've got, Marigold," He whispered to his hound as she laid her head in his lap. "You're my inner circle."

Eris shook all thoughts of the Night Court from his head as he noticed a glint of Emerald green among the goldenrods planted over Sebastian's grave. He pulled a little velvet box from among the flowers and golden ring blinked back at him when he opened it.

He held it close to his eye to examine, and found that a word had been carved into the inside of the ring. Written in an old and mostly dead language. Memories came to him of he and Lucien learning that language to use as a code, one their father couldn't read.

Sebastian.

A smile tugged at his lips. When he slipped the ring on his finger, it vanished completely. It looked as if he wore nothing at all. He had no idea how long it had been there waiting for him, but the metal of the enchanted ring reminded him of a certain redhead's golden eye. The only other one who knew of this place and what Eris had lost. If it wasn't him, then the ring was not a gift at all but a threat from someone who had discovered his deepest secret.

He held the ring in his palm for Marigold to inspect. She gave it sniff and turned away disinterested. Golden light filled Eris's chest. It had been left by Lucien.

In the blink of an eye, the world became much less bleak. The air even felt a bit warmer. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the gravestone and then stood, Marigold immediately at attention by his side. He said goodbye with his usual prayer and slipped the ring on his finger, practically skipping back to the forest path. And he clung tightly to that sunrise in his heart. The closest thing to hope he could allow.

Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil, feel no pain. Go and enter eternity.

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ginnympotter · 10 months

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A little belated Harry bday ficlet:

“Got you a gift,” Ginny said as she sat beside him on the grass of the Burrow yard. She presented him with a glass of water and smiled. “Happy birthday. Sorry I kicked your arse.”

“You’re so not sorry,” Harry retorted, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “But I’ll accept your water.”

Harry took it from her and chugged it rather quickly. Ginny laughed as Harry sighed with contentment. “Best birthday gift ever.”

“Better than last year, even?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Harry smiled at the memory, putting the glass down. “I guess they’re comparable.”

“Git,” she said, nudging her shoulder against his. “You know the water’s not your real present, right? I was going to give it to you after dinner-“

“Ginny, don’t worry about it, really,” he insisted, grabbing her hand. “I have all I need.”

“But we want to celebrate you,” she said softly.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t really feel like celebrating so much this year.”

Ginny snorted. “If there was any year to celebrate, it’s this one.” She picked up their joint hands and kissed the back of his. “None of us knew if you’d make it to eighteen.”

“But-“

“And no one who’s…gone… would want you to abstain from celebrating that fact.”

Harry thought on it for a moment. Ginny used her free hand to trace the lines on his face, then his scar, then sift her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation.

“And besides, my mum made like, three treacle tarts for you. But if you insist on not celebrating, I’ll tell her to throw them away-“

“No,” Harry interrupted, opening his eyes. He laughed at her winning expression. “I suppose you’re right,” he surrendered.

She smiled, leaning forward and planting a gentle kiss to his lips. “That I always am, love.”

He smiled against her, then kissed her again, this time more thoroughly, deeply, unapologetically.

They broke apart and Ginny stood up, offering him her hand. “Now, c’mon, let’s play another match. Getting your arse kicked will help work up your appetite so you can eat all the treacle tart the world has to offer.”

#hinny #Harry Potter #hp #fanfic #ginny weasley #hp fanfic #one shot

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leonasbunny · 2 years

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— LEONA X FEM!BUNNY READER ˗ˋˏ♡ ˎˊ˗

• general, soft fluffy headcanons jwjwjw >:)) !!

because our hubby needs it ;3 !!

mentions of : sexual themes, predator-prey relationship, general fluffy stuff and mentions is angst then and there !!

“ If you only knew how much you meant to me, Kingscholar.. The things I’d do for you, the very galaxies and stars i’d lay before your feet if I could.. If only I could grab the very essence of life itself and pour it down onto the spring meadows we both lumber our sleep upon, I’d fill the fields with flowers for us to run across on and rift ourselves away with our bodies and mind swayed away.. Just you n’ me, Leona.”

He felt his heart skip a heat, thundering with passion with cupids arrow struck into his heart; piercing through the skin and tissue and straight into his veins.

Leona, the prideful lion who couldn’t give an ounce, not even two shits, about being affectionate and all; he couldn’t be easily swayed with words, nor could he easily be swooned with smirks. but you, Herbivore? Oh, darling you have no idea what you do to him.

He’s speechless, breathless, he wants to fucking pick you up and kiss the life out of you with all your heart and his too. Leona; whom had never been thought to be considered someone worthy; only knew that he was worthy to himself. His narcissism grew and grew, yet when you said that; everything fell..

He was no longer dawned on the thought that people should beckon to him, but instead- he found himself drawing nearer towards you.. Expressionless as he cups your little, squishy face and leans in with his warm, hot breath touching your skin and leaking softly from the scent of his perfume cascading your senses..

“The fuck’re you sayin’ herbivore? Are ya really trying to test me, huh? Little bunny. Tch, come here, cutie.”

Leona picks you up, grabbing the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you into a heavy kiss; regarding with you whimpering under the lions touch. A frightful bunny shouldn’t have said such a beautiful thing.. unless the little herbivore wants a taste of what it’s like to be the queen beside him..~

Leona, all jokes aside, loves it.. he really does. His ears perk up and his blush is so much more evident, as such as his flushed appearance. He can’t believe he’s ever hear something like that.. but given it’s you, he should’ve expected it. But can you blame him for being surprised?

Shadowed in the Afterglow Savannah by his own brother; much to the citizens disapproval of the second brother of Farena, he was looked down upon. Leona didn’t come out unscathed and untouched, frankly- he suffered through the hell of his childhood being second all his life. Thrown away by the country, wasted off from the Savannah. Though he stood firm, bearing a scar on his eye; trauma from neglect and love and affection of those around him and his palace courts-men.

But you, little bunny? You’re healing him. You’re healing his wounds, but even so the scars still remain and linger in his memory, you’re wiping the wounds off his body, erasing every fragment of a bad touch left in his figure. You found the key to his heart, and he utterly adores you for staying with him all these months..

One day, he hopes to take you to his home, and marry you there. Marriage is something you two haven’t talked about, given the early stages of your relationship. But he knows you inside and out, he knows you’re innocent, and even more so; more gorgeous than any girl he’s ever met. I’d say he’d propose to you anytime, anywhere regardless of the situation you’re in or wherever you are.

Leona doesn’t like to admit it, but he genuinely is afraid of losing you, his bunny. His darling herbivore. Leona thoroughly hates showing such weakness towards you. He knows you’re capable of taking care of yourself, especially given the fact women are highly respected back in his home kingdom; and you’re a very independent little bunny.. but hints of fear are given anytime Leona starts fearing you may be stolen away and he will be left with nothing once again.

It will never happen though, you promised him it wouldn’t. You love him with all your given heart, and he believes and trusts your word; and he will never admit any of the things he feels deep down; but he wants you to know that he does care. He does love you, but he’s unsure of how to give you that love.

Guide him through the relationship. Your big lion belongs to you, and you only. And he believes belong him, in a respectful manner of course.

But he knows the basics of dating, he’s had enough experience thirdwheeling Farena and his wife to have his heart stripped off the title of becoming King, thanks to his adorable little nephew. So of course, he knows quite a bit. He will give you expensive things; and no matter what you give him, expensive or cheap, he treasures it.

Made a picture frame of you and him? Expect it to be sitting beside his bed table next to his lamp so he can wake up to seeing your beautiful face every morning.

Made a bracelet out of cheap jewellery? He doesn’t care, he thinks it actually looks pretty good and cute. He will wear it, much to Ruggie’s teasing and soft remarks.

But he does it to show that he does care. And he hopes you do know that..

Leona believes that in a predator and prey relationship, he should mark you as his. Sex is one thing, but another is fully marking your neck; aka— him biting you and actually making a small, open wound in your neck. Hickeys are to be expected every single time in the relationship, regardless if you two are sexual or not.

He will grab you gently by the waist while you’re continuing to do whatever you’re doing; and press his body against you whilst biting your neck softly with kisses and affectionate nips. After all, can you blame this lion for wanting a little taste of his own food?

He will tend to go a bit overboard and end up leaving your neck with hickeys all over; slight drops of blood then and there. If you enjoy that sort of thing like he does then HWJSJWJSUWJ eXpeCt it to happen a lot whenever you’re spending time with him.

Whenever you’re in public spaces in school, you two are holding hands and he just doesn’t give a shit whoever throws a glance then and there. What’s there to be ashamed about? You’re dating. You are something these boys could never have even if they wished. A perfect wifey, motherly figure for Leona. A soft little bunny to wife over the big sleepy lion.

Leona loves the dynamic between you two, and so do you. You will be beside the Savanaclaw trio a lot, staying with Ruggie and hanging out with Jack. Leona trusts them that they’d look after you, given his orders. Especially since you’re a helpless little herbivore thrown out into a pack of wild predators within the school.

But he does tend to be a little jealous then and there, so please don’t mind him whenever you four are hanging out somewhere in his school and his tail tends to give you a little squeeze in your thigh, every so now and then. It’s just his way of being protective and showing the fact that you’re his, nobody else’s. And he is yours to do whatever you please.

He’s not uncomfortable with a lot really, so have free reign to do whatever you like. He struggles with public affection but if you like it, then he’ll let his pride slip. But oh boy, if you’re in private quarters or behind locked doors; you best know you’re not escaping his grasp. He’ll be hella affectionate to you, grinding against you and marking his scent on you.

Whether you like your relationship to be strictly romantic and slightly sexual, or mostly sexual and somewhat romantic, Leona honestly just doesn’t give a shit. He just wants to be with his bunny.

Speaking of which, your ears and tail is what he adores so much about you. His little herbivore is so freaking cute!!! He loves squishing you gently sometimes, touching your tail shaking softly and he loves touching your ears.

Please touch his as well! They’re sensitive but it’s a sign that you trust him. He loves you, dear sweetheart. He wants to be intimate with you, romantically. And he wants nothing more than to be soft and fluffy with you,, truthfully it makes him forget about his past; the future

You make him focus on the present..

.. ❤️🍓❤️

#twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #twst headcanons #twst x reader #Twisted wonderland x bunny reader #bunny reader #x bunny reader #twisted wonderland savanaclaw #savanaclaw x reader #twisted wonderland ruggie #twisted wonderland jack #twst wonderland #leona x reader headscanons #leona kingscholar x reader

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whump-card · 3 months

Text

Forged Divinity Unnamed Sequel: Chapter 2

1446 words

CW: dead body, like a real nasty dead body, dissociation, memory loss, amnesia, anger issues, past TBI

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Enjolras decided, since Leannan was catatonic, that she need to investigate the body. Some sick, sorrowful part of her needed to know how Phineas had died, and Leannan wasn’t about to tell her. She took one last breath of fresh air before ducking back into the shack.

She avoided the body at first, opening a cabinet on the far wall. There were a couple small sacks of oats, but little else. She grabbed a handful out of one sack, letting it run through her fingers. It didn’t look contaminated, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t – Leannan’s Iowan immune system could handle a lot more than Phineas’ could have.

She cupped a hand under the tap of their water barrel, and dribbled some out into her palm. It looked clear. She couldn’t smell it, though, not with the overpowering stench of the corpse filling the room.

She tipped out the water and wiped her hand dry on her pant leg. Finally, reluctantly, she approached the corpse.

The bloat and maggots told her it had been around a week since Phineas had died. She couldn’t imagine what Leannan had gone through, how thoroughly he must have been in denial, to live next to a corpse that whole time.

She carefully pinched the blanket covering the majority of Phineas’ body and pulled it back. She immediately spotted what she was looking for.

Cloth bound their chest flat, as usual, but more strips were wrapped around their waist, strained dark with old, dried blood. Phineas had died of an injury – a slash or stab to the gut.

Enjolras threw the blanket beck over the body before she could digest any more details – the flies, the maggots, the no, don’t look – and covered Phineas’ mutilated face with it as well. Then she turned, and fled, stumbling out the door and gulping down fresh air, tears stinging her eyes.

If Leannan had been able to bandage up the injury while Phineas was still bleeding, still alive, that meant Phineas hadn’t died immediately. They had died slowly. The thought, the sight, the smell, it all made her nauseous.

Phineas was still a part of her, as horrible as they were. Rapist, arsonist, murderer, yes. Her little sibling? Also yes.

Her eyes settled on Leannan where he sat on the ground, and she quickly brushed away her tears. She couldn’t spare the time to mourn right now. She needed to get Leannan home, before anything else went wrong.

“Leannan?” She touched his shoulder. He was still… gone, his empty gaze resting on the ground. She scooped her hands under his arms and lifted him to his feet, then led him by the arm over to the pickup truck. This, finally, seemed to rouse him.

“Are we leaving?” he asked.

“Yes,” Enjolras said.

“Is Phineas coming with us?”

Enjolras’ heart sank. Something was really, really wrong with Leannan.

“Uh… Yeah. They’re riding in the back. Can you get in?” She opened the passenger door for him.

“Mhm.” He climbed into the cab, and Enjolras shut the door. Then she looked back at the shack.

A part of her wanted to do something – to bury Phineas, maybe. But the ground was dry and hard-packed, and full of rocks, and she didn’t have a shovel anyway. It didn’t feel right to just leave them there, to be scavenged by animals, but there was nothing she could do.

Then she remembered the gun.

She steeled herself, and went back into the shack and looked around. It wasn’t immediately visible, but there were only so many places it could hide. She found it soon enough, tucked behind the cabinet: the Barrett M95 sniper rifle. She slung it over her shoulder, not bothering to search for the ammo. She just wanted to have it, not to shoot it.

It was Mom’s. She couldn’t leave it there.

She stashed it in the bed of the pickup, and glanced back at the shack one last time.

She wished she could make it right. But things had gone wrong a long, long time ago.

~~~

Leannan slept as they drove, leaning his head against the window again. Enjolras couldn’t help but glance at him constantly, trying to take in every detail while still watching the road.

He still wore the clothes he had taken with him when he left Goat Island. They were weathered and dirty now, and too big on him. The scar on his left temple looked like a gnarled lightning strike or tree branch growing out of his hairline. The soles of his boots were peeling away from the uppers. He was tanned and freckled, and his hair was sun-bleached even paler than it had been when they first met. There was dirt under his fingernails, and crusted into the lines of his face.

They had been driving for about two hours when Leannan awake with a small yelp, and started looking around frantically.

“Hej, what…?” Enjolras started.

“Where’s Phineas?” Leannan demanded.

Enjolras couldn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the road, her jaw clenched.

“Where’s Phineas?!” shouted Leannan.

“They died, Leannan,” Enjolras said quietly.

“No! No, you left them behind! You left them behind on purpose!” Leannan was working himself up into a frenzy, “You promised! You promised they could come with us! You lied to me!”

“Phineas is dead.”

“Fuck you!” Leannan shrieked, with a level of vitriol Enjolras had never heard from him before, “Fuck you! I hate you!”

Without warning, Leannan grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it to the side. Enjolras slammed on the brakes to keep them from careening off the road. While she was occupied getting the car back under control, Leannan flung his door open and jumped out of the slow-moving vehicle.

“Leannan!” Enjolras shouted. She finally got the car to stop and threw it into park, then jumped out to follow him. He was running back down the road towards where they came.

“Leannan!” She caught up with him easily, between her taller height, better nutrition, and better shoes, and grabbed his arm. “Leannan, stop!”

He swung around and punched her in the face. It was a pretty weak punch, but it surprised her nonetheless.

“I hate you!” he screamed, twisting in her grip, “You always ruin everything!”

Those were Phineas’ words. Enjolras would recognize them anywhere. She pulled Leannan close and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides, his back to her chest.

“I’m sorry, Leannan, but I need to take you home!” she said through gritted teeth.

Leannan screamed wordlessly in return, struggling like a wild animal.

“Don’t you want to see Shannon again?” Enjolras coaxed.

“Not… without… Phineas!” Leannan insisted in between attempts to twist himself free. Enjolras held him tighter.

“Leannan,” she felt a lump rise in her throat, “Phineas is dead!”

Leannan paused his fighting, panting hard. Enjolras could feel his thin body swell and deflate in her arms with each breath, rife with panic and anger. She felt the anger fade.

“I didn’t mean to,” Leannan whimpered.

Enjolras carefully loosened her grip.

“Didn’t mean to what?” she asked softly, already anticipating the answer.

“I just get really angry, sometimes, now, and I don’t know why, and Phineas was being a real jerk, and I just wanted them to stop…” Leannan’s words dissolved into soft, hiccuping cries.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is!” Leannan wailed, “It’s always my fault!”

Enjolras released him fully, turning him around to face her.

“When did you start getting angry?” she asked.

“When I got hit… in the head,” Leannan gulped, his hand going to the scar on his temple, “Phineas says it made me stupid and weird.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“No,” Leannan shook his head miserably, “Phineas says it was an accident.”

Enjolras tallied up the symptoms. Memory loss. Mood swings. Disorientation. A bad enough head injury, combined with some psychological trauma, would certainly explain everything.

“Leannan, I promise it’s not your fault.”

Leannan frowned up at her.

“You also promised you’d take Phineas with us!”

Enjolras sighed.

“I would have, I really would, if Phineas had been alive. But they’re not, they’re dead, they couldn’t come with.”

Leannan’s red-rimmed eyes drifted to stare past her. For a moment Enjolras was afraid that had dissociated again at the mention of Phineas’ death, but then he spoke.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he whispered.

“Come home with me,” Enjolras offered, “We’ll take care of you.”

He slowly shifted forward and, to her surprise, leaned against her, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“You’ll take care of me?” he murmured, muffled by her shirt.

“Yeah,” she patted his back, “We will.”

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #forged divinity #cw dead body #cw dissociation #cw memory loss #cw amnesia #cw anger issues #cw TBI

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unholycringebirther · 1 year

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STU X GN!READER [FLUFF FANFICTION]

SUMMARY: After getting caught out in the rain on the way to your boyfriends house, he lets you use his shower while he orders some food for the both of you, he also lets you borrow some clothes, his clothes..

WARNINGS: Flustered blushing mess!Stu, MINORS DNI.

WORDS: 1.6k

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the lack of quality, I wrote this very late at night and rushed a bit because this is mainly to write a message, i’d like to thank everyone a lot for all the kind words sent my way, i’m really bad at expressing these types of emotions in real life, let alone text, so i’m really sorry about that, my social skills weren’t nurtured much so i realise i can come off strange/weird when expressing gratitude, but thank you again. ❤️

The cool evening air brushed against your skin, and as the sun started to drip down the horizon you again cursed yourself for not bringing a jacket.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you pushed through the numb stiffness of your frozen legs to continue trekking down the sidewalk, Stu’s apartment complex like a sweet beacon of light, and more importantly, warmth.

It was still quite a walk, the tall structure peeking out over dozens of rooftops nothing more than a tease.

The air was damp, and could possibly be the reason for the wet drop that splashed against your skin, until many more started landing on you in small, cold pricks, slapping against the sidewalk as it picked up.

You sucked in a frustrated breath, glaring at the rapidly darkening sky, the clouds smothering any warmth the setting sun might’ve provided, and your deathly look seemed to only upset the sky god more, who was already frowning down at you.

“No!” You let out a small squeal when the gentle pricks became more insistent, the drops becoming more like pointed needles.

you were careful not to slip on the wet sidewalk as you took off, your shoes slipping at the mud that stained them, it was freezing, and you gave up your vain attempts to shield yourself from the down pour, wrapping your arms around your shaking body instead.

Shut windows and doors passed you by as you swiftly carried yourself down the street, the shadows of the cloud casting a grey atmosphere over each building.

With your hair and clothes thoroughly ruined, you finally slipped inside the doors of your boyfriends apartment complex, the lobby was deserted but luckily enough for you, the room and floor number was burned into your memory.

The steel of the elevator wasn’t much better than the gloomy streets, and the weak air conditioner barely made a dent in the uncomfortable wetness of your clothes, but at least you weren’t outside anymore.

You felt a little bad for the carpet as you made various wet spots, but luckily, Stu’s apartment wasn’t far from the elevator in the long stretch of the hall, and you eagerly rang the doorbell.

You were looking forward to seeing him, his presence, his energy, it never failed to make you smile, your heart always lit up at the thought of his face, those stupid finger-guns, his smile was so full of love for you it could wipe away any bad day.

Clearly, he was as eager as you were, the door clicked open the minute your finger left the doorbell, opening so hard you were afraid it’d rip off the hinges.

“[…]!” His voice sounded relieved, mirrored in his eyes until concern rippled through at the sight of you, the rigid posture you saw relax with his relief now back with a vengeance, “Ah, shit!”

“Hey, babe.” Unexpectedly, embarrassment wells up inside of you, it wasn’t like you spent hours getting ready to see your boyfriend— you’ve been together long enough to move past that faze, but as you stand there, probably looking like a drowned rat, you couldn’t help but wish you looked at least a little desirable.

“Shit, shit, you must be freezing, come in!” He ushered you inside, scrambling to close the door behind you before rushing back to you, you were carefully trying not to create a massive puddle on the floor.

“It’s not that bad.” You go for a reassuring smile, he hated seeing you in any kind of discomfort, he’s always trying to keep you as happy as possible, but the slight chatter of your teeth didn’t convince him.

“Uh, sure.” He clearly didn’t believe you, but didn’t say as much, he stopped to think for a moment, “do you want to use my shower? it’ll help warm you up.”

You wanted to say no, social conditioning making guilt rise in your stomach for bothering him despite what he says, but you were so, so cold, you couldn’t help yourself.

“That’d be great,” You smiled, a genuine one, before leaning forward and placing a kiss directly onto his cheek, “Thanks, love.”

He flushed red, and somehow, his already rigid posture seemed to only tighten itself further in embarrassment, he lets out a nervous laugh and trips over his words in a sputter, “A-Ah, er, hah—“

Deciding to take pity, for now, you made way to the bathroom, already familiar with the layout of his house, but despite this, you’ve never used the shower before, so you guess it’s a milestone in your relationship, perhaps accidentally using each others toothbrush and shouting in disgust was next.

Stripping off your wet clothes, you turned on the spray of water, setting the right temperature before stepping inside, closing the plastic curtain behind you.

The hot water feels weird against your numb skin at first, before the blissful feeling of the harsh cold starts to melt, making you sigh audibly.

The water splashing onto the tiles is loud, but the sound of the door creaking open was loud enough, quickly followed by a familiar voice, albeit a little more higher pitched, calling out, “I’m not looking! I’m just here to drop off some clothes, hahhh— fuck!—“

There’s a loud clang following the curse, and you poke your head out, careful to keep your body concealed behind the plastic curtain to see your boyfriend, flushed and covering his eyes with his hand, you didn’t doubt they were clenched tightly underneath there.

“I’m just going to leave them here!” He calls out to be heard over the stream of water, messily hanging them up on the metal rack next to the towels, “Take your time! I’m going to order dinner.”

You called out your thanks, but you weren’t sure if he heard, the door clicked shut behind him.

Gratefulness welled up in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a flush of your own rising, carrying the same heat as the steam curling around you.

Stu was always so kind, so protective, there wasn’t a day that went by where he wasn’t caring about you, giving you anything and everything to keep you happy, joy glowing in his own eyes when they gazed upon your smile.

You wanted to return the favour— you’d give him anything to make sure that grin never left his face, even if you could give him the world, you don’t think anything could ever really be enough.

Turning off the water, you stepped out the shower and plucked a towel off the rack, drying yourself and taking a few more minutes to bask in the steamy, warm room.

You couldn’t recall a time where you’ve ever spent the night, so naturally you haven’t fallen into the habit of keeping your own clothes around.

The hoodie you slip on isn’t your own, not only because it faintly smells of Stu, but because the large ‘K-ON!’ written in bold red letters with a yellow outline isn’t a title you’re familiar with

The shorts are defiantly yours, you briefly remember lending them to your boyfriend after he spilled coke all over his, you’re surprised he kept them.

The hoodie hangs long enough to cover the shorts, and you bask in the softness before finally stepping out the bathroom, the smell of pizza wafting into your nose drawing you closer to the living room.

Stu is fussing around the couch, sporting his own pyjamas while laying pillows and blankets strategically, he must’ve heard you, because his head perked up with a smile on his lips.

He turned beet-red, flushed harder than any hot shower could manage.

The flash of self-consciousness at the doorway withered, turning to dust and blowing away in the wind at how he looked at you, despite how hot he was getting, nothing about the way he looked at you felt objectifying or dirty.

It was the look a man might’ve given to a painting, staring at it to try and saviour each and every detail, appreciating every stroke, every colour.

“Ah, you— er,” he stuttered, his eyes never leaving you, the rush of your blush was followed by a small blast of almost flirty confidence, “Y-You.. look hah- n-nice, r-really nice!—“

You laugh, skipping over to join him on the couch, you plopped down, adjusting the blankets around yourself, and the couch sinks as Stu follows suit next to you.

You can see him pointedly trying not to look at you, sitting almost awkwardly as his eyes betray him and flicker towards your form, his face almost cherry red with his smouldering embarrassment, and well.. his ‘other’ feeling.

Shifting closer, you tug needily at him until he glides down with you, resting comfortable on your chest with his head close to burying in your neck, the blankets looking around you in a nest of coziness.

You can feel the warmth on his face, and despite his obvious embarrassment at his outwardly reaction he doesn’t hide his face in your neck.

His eyes are filled with something soft, something adoring as he stares at you, like he can’t truly believe he’s here, here with you, safe and warm, love sweeting the air in the room.

And really, he couldn’t believe it, that somebody like you would choose him, he thanks his lucky star everyday that you chose him, he’s vowed to spent everyday re-paying you for that for as-long as you’ll have him.

And you don’t intent to ever let him go for as much as he’ll allow, which clocks in at about forever, you don’t want to let him go, and you’ll cling to him like he will to you, he doesn’t want to leave you, ever.

An eternity in your arms is an eternity well spent, as far as he’s concerned.

#my dear hatchet man #my dear hatchet man stu #mdhm game #mdhm #mdhm stu #mdhm stu x reader #my dear hatchet man fanart #my dear hatchet man fanfiction #mdhm fanfiction

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whump-me · 11 months

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Martyr, Chapter 22: So Close

Chapter 22 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: whumper POV, defiant whumpee, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring

---

Isadora

She left him alone to think for a little while. But not too long. Just long enough to let him stew on his thoughts without the distraction of her presence or the other prisoner’s not-quite-suppressed noises of pain. She had to be careful here—if she left him too long, he would have the chance to work his way past his first emotional reaction and come up with a justification for why his leader had done what he had done. She had to capitalize on that first rush of anger, that initial bite of betrayal. It was a fine line to walk.

While she was gone, she had food brought to him. Nothing too special—just some of the glop from the cafeteria. She didn’t want it to look like an obvious bribe. But she imagined the cafeteria food would be a treat to him after days of going hungry. This was the right time for Isadora to treat him well. It would make for a useful contrast between her and the man who had sent him here.

After he’d had a chance to eat and think, she came back—alone this time. This wasn’t the time to threaten the prisoner in front of him. There would be time for that later, if he didn’t cooperate, but she had a feeling he would.

She had broken through the first and deepest layer of his defenses. He understood his true situation now—he knew what his leader had done to him. Now, if she acted quickly and precisely, he was hers for the taking.

He had a smear of green goop down his chin; the guard who had spoon-fed his dinner to him must not have cared enough to clean him up. He gave Isadora the expected glare, but there was no fire in it. Isadora stared deeply into his eyes, and let out an internal sigh of satisfaction, although she was careful not to let her feelings show on her face.

They said the eyes with the windows to the soul. Isadora was skeptical. She had met rebels with eyes opaque enough to hide their true intentions, and evil men who had stared across this same table at her with the clear blue eyes of an angel. But today, looking at Wraith, she was ready to believe the maxim.

His eyes didn’t burn with rage anymore. And they were no longer opaque curtains that kept her from getting at his true feelings, a mask he could draw across his face at will along with the cocky smirk he no longer wore. Now the curtains had jagged tears down the middle. The more she looked, the more she could swear she saw the fracture lines, streaks of lighter brown like lightning running across the deep muddy surface. And behind those cracks was something that ran deeper than anger, something thick and dark and messy. The man looked torn open. He looked like he might bleed out in front of her, even though there wasn’t an open wound on him, except for the seeping swollen cut on his ankle.

“I know what you were trying to do with the food,” said Wraith. “You can’t buy me off that easily.”

“If I were trying to buy you off,” Isadora said, settling into the chair across from him, “I would have given you something better than the slop they feed us every day.”

Her fingers brushed something wet. She brought her hand up and saw a streak of reddish-brown across her fingertips. The guards hadn’t cleaned up the other prisoner’s blood thoroughly enough. She would have to talk to someone about that display of carelessness. With an inner shudder of distaste, she wiped the congealed liquid off on her pants.

“You can’t expect me to believe they feed you that shit.”

“Believe it or not, that was one of our cafeteria’s better offerings. You can’t expect much when food has to travel 140 million miles just to reach us. Fresh food is a distant memory for most of us.”

“The problem is, you’re trying to make it taste like Earth food.” Wraith’s voice was husky, like he had been crying, even though it was no sign of tears around his eyes. “You can do a lot with yeasts and mushrooms if you’re willing to get creative. You just can’t make it taste like… I don’t know, a steak and fries, or whatever it is you miss from Earth.”

“Burger and fries,” she corrected automatically, her mouth watering. She mentally shook her head at herself. Indulging in nostalgia? She knew better.

“Anyway,” she said, “you weren’t too proud to eat it.”

“Manipulation tactic or not, I’ve got to keep my strength up.” Wraith’s small smile looked strange under the torn-open look in his eyes. His slight shrug made his wrists tug against his cuffs. The skin around the cuffs was an unhealthy grayish-purple. Maybe she had tightened them too far. Then she thought about what he had done, all the ways she had manipulated her from the beginning. No, on second thought, they were exactly tight enough.

She graced him with a small nod of acknowledgment. “I approve of your practicality. That’s the other reason I had the food brought to you. It wasn’t only a way to demonstrate that I am willing to treat you well if you cooperate, unlike the one who sent you here. I also need you in good enough condition to answer my questions, and that means giving your body the calories it needs to function.”

“Cooperate,” Wraith echoed, curling his mouth around the word like it was another spoonful of green slop. “I thought you’d come around to that sooner or later. You want his name, don’t you?”

“That would be a good start, yes.” Isadora leaned forward, staring into his wounded eyes. “Have you had some time to think?”

He nodded. She waited, but he didn’t offer anything else. She was about to break the silence when he spoke. His face was solemn, his voice quiet, with none of the arrogant defiance he had offered at their first meeting. “The first time you and I really talked, I saw him in you. Maybe I should have figured it out then. Once I got to know you better, I thought I had been wrong. But I was right all along, wasn’t I?” He gave a soft, close-lipped laugh. “You aren’t like him—not the way I thought you were. He’s like you.”

She knew better than to trust any read she got off him. And yet. His face was bright with vulnerability. His voice had lost all its hardness. All her instincts, honed over years and years in this same chair, told her he was ready for her.

She injected a note of sympathy into her voice. “You don’t have to sacrifice for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you. Anyone who would use you so easily isn’t worthy of your love.”

Wraith shook his head, sending his hair flying across his eyes. “Again with the manipulation. First the food, now this fake concern routine. Just don’t, all right? Have a little more respect for me than that.”

Isadora straightened in her chair. “All right,” she said, letting her voice settle back into its more accustomed patterns. “Then let me tell you what will happen if you don’t give me what I’m looking for. Whatever the two of us say behind closed doors, in public we will still treat you as the leader of the Martian rebellion—for the sake of publicity, you understand. We already know you can play the role well. You will give us the statement we want—and yes, I can make sure you give it to us eventually, even if you’re in no shape by then to understand the words you’re saying.”

Wraith watched impassively. Even torn open, his gaze revealed too little.

“After that,” she continued, “you’ll die slowly, painfully, and quietly—we wouldn’t want to make a martyr out of you, after all. As for how you’ll die, there are many people around here who would welcome a chance to vent a decade’s worth of anger on the leader of your rebellion, and I see no reason to tell them who you really are. I’ve already ensured these recordings won’t be accessible to anyone but me.”

Wraith swallowed, but said nothing.

“And then,” she continued, “we’ll hunt down the true leader anyway, and dispose of him without fanfare. With the rebels’ morale sufficiently broken by your statement, it shouldn’t take long to find someone willing to roll over on him—and now we have a photo to go on, even if it is ten years old. Or did I not tell you that yet?” She fixed him with a brief, unfriendly smile. “So you see, we’ll have him soon enough, regardless of what you do next. The only difference is whether you want to suffer for him—suffer purely on principle, you understand, because it won’t ultimately make a difference to his fate. And whatever incorrect assumptions I may have made upon our first meeting, you are not, I think, a man of principle.”

With his head tilted down, he looked up at her through his hair. “And what if he’s the principle I’m willing to die for?”

“Then you should rethink your life’s philosophy,” she responded. “Look where it’s gotten you so far.”

“I knew what I was signing up for.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What you were signing up for? It seems to me he made that choice for you.”

Wraith open his mouth, then closed again. He didn’t say anything.

But Isadora felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, like the charge in the sky before a thunderstorm back home. She waited in silence. She tried to keep the hungry anticipation off her face. Her fingers curled around the arms of the chair.

After a moment, he spoke again, as she had known he would. “I wanted to be a ‘man of principle,’ as you call it,” he said. His voice sounded flat and wrong without his customary spark of defiance. “I wanted to love his cause as much as he did—enough to die for it. Because then maybe I would spend worthy in his eyes.” He sighed and shook his head. His hair fell across his eyes again. “But he was always going to love cause more than me. No matter what I did to prove myself, no matter how much I played the true believer, it would never have been enough to earn his love. Because his heart always belonged to someone else—to something else. He would always have been willing to sacrifice my life. The only difference is, if I really was the man I tried to be for him, I would have welcomed it.”

He let out another sigh, softer this time. She smelled defeat on his breath, fragile and delicious. She took a deep breath. No sudden moves. She couldn’t rush this. Every word, every gesture, had to be carefully calculated.

But it took all her self-control to remain impassive. She could already taste it on her lips, melting on her tongue like chocolate: the end of the rebellion. All her sacrifices, justified at last. Her skin tingled. Her cheeks heated. Finally. Finally.

She wanted to scream her question at him, shake his shoulders until an answer fell out. What is your leader’s name? She didn’t. She held herself still, breathing slowly and evenly. In for four, out for four.

“I wish I could welcome it,” said Wraith. “I wish I had it in me to die for a cause like he would. Even if that cause is doomed either way.” He shook his head, looking down at his lap. “I tried to be what he wanted.”

Isadora had a feeling he wasn’t really talking to her anymore.

“If I tell you,” he asked, still not looking at her, “what happens then?”

“I’m sure we can work out a deal that’s agreeable to both of us.” It took everything in her to keep her voice steady. Anticipation tightened her throat until it hurt.

“You can’t expect me to believe you’d let me go.”

“Why not?” Isadora calculated her shrug to appear casual, even though casual was the last thing she felt. She was a shark, and the air smelled of blood. “You said yourself that you don’t care about his cause enough to die for it. And without him to lead the rebellion, there would be nothing left for you but death if you went back. I think you’re smart enough to understand that there’s no point in that. Yes, you’re angry, and anger makes people do stupid things. But I think you know by now that we are not the proper targets of your anger. So I imagine that if we let you go—after we have your leader in hand, of course, just to make sure you don’t run off to warn him—you’ll go off and live a quiet life, and make no more trouble for us. I wouldn’t see a problem with that.”

Wraith was silent for a moment, considering. “And why should I take your word for it?” He finally asked.

“Why should I trust that you’re telling me the truth when you give me his name?” Isadora countered. “You could decide to give me another patsy instead. This arrangement would require a leap of faith on both our parts. I’m willing to try. Are you?”

Wraith’s ragged breaths were deafening in the silence. With every inhale, the phantom smell of blood in Isadora’s nose thickened. The air pulsed with her heartbeat and his. Together, they beat out a frantic rhythm, growing faster and wilder as they built toward the coming conclusion.

The end of the rebellion.

The end of her decade of sacrifice.

Wraith gave a jerky nod. “All right,” he breathed, staring down at his lap. “All right.”

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper @tremendousenemyhideout @bloodinkandashes @whumplr-reader @whatiswhumpblog @delicateprincepaper @sunshiline-writes

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#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Martyr #sci-fi whump #interrogation whump

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mysterious-ocarina · 11 months

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Divergent // Dauntless

fem!reader x Junichiro Tanazaki, kinda grumpy reader x sunshine Junichiro (he's so underrated, I love him so much)

A/N powers based off the dauntless faction from Divergent, here's the other ones that I am planning on doing

please give me recommendations for books to use as abilities or just abilities in general for bsd content

Main Masterlist BSD Masterlist Requests AO3

(3.1k words)

Working in the Armed Detective Agency was the biggest blessing that you’ve ever been given. Growing up was a bit tough, being a prime target for bullying and harassment. You were quiet but unafraid to speak your mind, something that made other people think you were mean and rude, but it’s not like you could help it.

You also possess the ability to have mastery skill over any weapon you wield. You would often be seen twirling kunai knives around your fingers. You assume this also made you unapproachable, not that you really cared. You were unbothered by most things in life anyways.

It wasn’t until you were hired at the agency, that you felt cared about. The agency was like a family to you and you cared about all of them, some more than others it seemed, and you would do anything to protect them. You just had trouble expressing this sentiment to anyone except Naomi Tanizaki.

She was the first person you met when you came to the agency and she has stuck by you through everything other than missions. Her extroverted personality and her overly friendly demeanor can be off putting and sometimes annoying but at the same time, it was what made it easier for you to open up to her. She never judged you for anything and was always there to encourage you whenever you felt unsure about your ability or your importance to the agency. Surprisingly, she was even supportive of your not so little crush on her brother but more on that later.

One of the earliest experiences you had at the agency was embarrassing at the time but a funny memory to look back on.

You were still quite new to the agency. Earlier in the day, your new coworkers gathered around you and watched as you threw your kunai knives at a plethora of dummy targets. Some were moving side to side and some were farther away from you. With your ability, you were able to hit each dummy in the designated spot perfectly.

Your coworkers were thoroughly impressed with your skill of the weapon, your ability. Later on, the group of you were downstairs in the cafe enjoying your lunch break together.

You were spreading some butter onto your slice of toast with a butter knife. Gracefully moving the metal despite it not being used in a weapon-ly manner. Dazai had reached in front of him, accidently grazing his arm with yours.

In a matter of seconds and a bright flash of blue, your hands seemed unsteady holding the butter knife. Your colleagues watched in bewilderment as you fumbled and dropped the knife onto the ground, cutting your hand in the process.

Dazai quickly removed his arm from your vicinity, chuckling, "I guess your mastery of weapons really is an ability."

"Whatever," you grumbled, grabbing napkins to wipe away the blood on your hand.

Naomi’s brother stood up from his seat across from you and offered you his hand, "Let me help you clean that up."

You fondly remembered the way that Junichiro so delicately rinsed the blood on your hand and wrapped a bandage around it. That was the first time you ever really talked to him other than hellos when you saw each other or goodnights when you left the office.

"Hi," the orange-haired man stood in front of you, putting his hand up in a cute wave.

Broken from your train of thought, you looked back down to your computer. You quickly realized that you got no work done because you were daydreaming. Looking back at Junichiro, you gave him a miniscule smile, "Hey."

Undeterred by your lack of emotion, Junichiro gave you a dazzling smile, "I have a case that I don't think I can do by myself. Wanna come with me?"

"And why me?" you questioned, raising a brow and crossing your arms. Most people would have thought you were being rude and would have left you alone. But not sweet Tanizaki.

The thing with Junichiro Tanizaki was that he never seemed put off by you. He always made sure to greet you and always offered you a smile if your eyes met. At first, you were uncomfortable with his happy demeanor, much like you were with his sister. But also much like with his sister, you got used to it and warmed up to it. They really are similar.

He also radiated happiness and excitement whenever you talked to him so how could you possibly ignore him like you do everyone else.

Junichiro blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well I'm not much of a fighter and if I run into trouble, I would like someone to have my back. And who better than you, probably the strongest fighter here."

Unable to deny him, especially when he compliments you like that, you agree to help him out. On your way out of the office, Naomi stopped you, “Where are you guys going?”

“We’ve got a case. Wanna come?” Junichiro offered. You peered at Naomi and whatever expression that was on your face must have tipped her off to something.

She lit up with a bright smile, “No, I’m good. But I need to talk to y/n alone real quick before you go. Girl things.”

Before either you or Junichiro could protest, she was dragging you in the direction of the girls bathroom. She had a bright smile on her face and it was starting to worry you that her face might get stuck like that.

Once alone, you spoke up confused, “Is everything alright?”

Naomi hummed, “You like my brother don’t you?”

You stared back at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. You didn’t have a response as she stared at you but when you realized she wasn't going to say anything more, you turned away from her and muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She shook her head at you, “It’s okay. I’m not mad, plus I think you guys would be cute together.”

Unable to resist her kindness, you peered back at her a little shyly, “You think so?”

Beaming, she replied, “Well of course. I’m his sister so I know everything about him. And I know that he would be ecstatic to find out you like him, maybe even more than like.”

Your entire face and neck felt hot and you briefly thanked the universe that no one was here to witness this.

“I don’t understand. There’s no way that he would like me the way that I like him. I’m so me-” you scoffed, “And he’s so him. All smiles and rainbows and happiness. I don’t think we would be a good match.”

You were dissatisfied with the way you were feeling but it was true. No matter how much you tried to look nonchalant and uncaring about anything, deep down you really did care. Something that Naomi knew.

Naomi grabbed your hand and made sure you looked into her eyes as she spoke softly, “Haven’t you ever heard of opposites attract. You can trust me on this, y/n.”

“Well what am I supposed to do about it?” you grumbled. You were hesitant to share any kinds of feelings with anyone but you had to admit that the idea of being with Junichiro enticed you.

“Maybe, after you finish your case with him, you guys could have some kind of dinner date together. Simple and not too much effort,” Naomi suggested. “Now, go knock him dead.”

She pushed you out of the bathroom encouragingly. By the time you made your way to Junichiro your face was warm and your head was full but you did your best to seem unaffected by anything.

When he saw you, Junichiro asked, “Is everything okay?”

You waved your hand, “Everything’s fine. Just girl things.”

You hoped that he couldn’t see it on your face what you and Naomi discussed. But he seemed to think nothing of it as you both left the agency for your case.

The both of you walked side by side down the streets of Yokohama. You were holding the case file in your hand. A girl was missing and the parents seemed to think that she had run away but you weren’t too sure about that.

“It doesn’t really make sense, does it?” You questioned Junichiro. He looked at you quizzically before you explained your thoughts, “If she had run away of her own volition, why would she go to school at all? She didn’t skip school but there’s no trace of her after that.”

Junichiro shrugged, “When I talked to the parents on the phone, they said she ran away often. It was kind of sad because they believed that this would be the one time she didn’t come back.”

Your heart bled for this family, “Well we’ll find her and get her home.”

Junichiro smiled at your determination before leading you towards the school the missing girl went to.

The both of you asked around wondering if anyone had seen her and knew of her whereabouts. No one knew where she could have been, the closest lead you had was that someone remembered seeing her walk into the alley behind the school.

“Tanizaki,” you called, waving him over to you. He smiled brightly at you, making you heat up. “I have a small lead. I talked to one of her classmates and they remember seeing her walk into the direction of that alley.”

“Well there’s no time to waste, let’s check it out,” Junichiro replied. He grabbed your arm and swiftly led the two of you in that direction. Your skin tingled where it touched his but you pointedly ignored it.

At the alley, the both of you looked around for any sign of the girl growing frustrated with the lack of progress.

You bent down, inspecting what looked like a dirty jacket when someone roughly grabbed you from behind, hand over your mouth. You tried to grab one of your knives but had no luck since your assailant was holding your arms in an awkward position behind your back.

Standing up, your attacker faced Junichiro before speaking with a deep voice, “You guys just couldn’t leave well alone, could you?”

Startled, Junichiro swerved around to look at you, taking note of how you couldn’t fight back. The only other time you had seen him so worried and frantic was when something happened to Naomi.

Angrily, an emotion that surprised you, Junichiro shouted at the man holding you, “Let go of her!”

Pulling you tighter into him, making you wince in pain, the man laughed, “Now why would I do that? This one will make a nice piece in my collection, right next to the other girl. Maybe if you guys weren’t looking for her, I wouldn’t have gotten you. But who am I kidding, you’re too beautiful to pass up.”

The creep behind you was now breathing in your ear. Tears formed in your eyes, unable to contain your discomfort. You made eye contact with a frantic Junichiro, who looked unsure of what to do considering his unfamiliarity with hand to hand combat.

You breathed softly, trying to calm down. You looked into Junichiro’s eyes then looked down at the knife sheathed on your thigh holster before looking back at Junichiro. Immediately understanding what you were trying to convey with only your eyes, Junichiro's face turned determined as he used his ability to disguise himself from your attacker.

“Shit, where did he go?” the man exclaimed, looking around his digital surroundings. At his distraction, you felt one of the knives on your thigh holster slip away from you. You nodded your head in the direction you assumed Junichiro was, giving him the signal to attack. Within seconds, Junichiro was revealed in front of you sporting your kunai.

The man holding you pulled the both of you back in surprise but Junichiro was quick as he slashed at the man’s arms. You used this to your advantage as you finally broke free from the man’s grasp and brought him down to the floor. You forced his hands behind his back and sat your knees on his back, probably causing a hell of a lot of pain but oh well.

“Where is the girl?” you questioned, bringing your other kunai up to his throat.

The man coughed and spluttered, “W-Why should I tell you anything?”

You gave Junichiro a bored and annoyed look, watching him call the detective, “Maybe because I have a knife to your throat that I’m not afraid to use. Oh, and I’m pissed so I would speak quickly before my patience runs out and I’m elbow deep in your guts.”

You weren’t actually going to kill him right now but your aggressive threat seemed to work on him. He squealed like a pig about the whereabouts of the missing girl you were looking for as well as a few more victims he had locked up.

With the case closed, you and Tanizaki were on your way back to the Agency. Both of you were in high spirits because of such a successful mission so you broke the companionable silence, “Hey, Tanizaki.”

Tanizaki looked back at you, giving you a shy smile, “You know, I would love it if you just call me Junichiro. What’s up?”

"Junichiro," you smiled, "How about we get dinner? To celebrate this big success."

His smile seemed to shine brighter, "I'd love to."

Showing your excitement, you grabbed his arm, "Can we go to this new restaurant I found? I've really wanted to go but I've had no one to go with."

Junichiro seemed surprised by your display of emotions but otherwise happy, "Of course. But you have to let me pay."

Giving him a shy smile, you agreed. As nonchalant as you could feign, you slipped your hand into his and grasped it. Junichiro grasped your hand too as a red flush took over his face.

You dragged him along, more like him happily following, all the way to the restaurant. It wasn’t fancy so the clothes you’ve been wearing today were just fine.

The hostess was a pretty woman and gave you a smile as you approached. As soon as she saw Junichiro, though, she was quick to brighten her smile and fix her hair.

“How many?” she asked, tone light and sweet.

Very quickly you were annoyed and jealous of her. I mean, Junichiro wasn't yours. . . yet, so you didn’t really have the right to be mad if someone was flirting with him.

Unable to hide your dismay, you pulled Junichiro closer to you, hanging on his arm. “We would like a table for just the two of us.”

The smile you gave the hostess was as dishonestly sweet as possible. She seemed to get the hint and didn’t hesitate further in getting you two to a table.

Once seated across from Junichiro, you felt embarrassment wash over you heightened further when Junichiro asked, “What was that?”

It didn’t sound like he was trying to scold you for your possessive display, more like he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He had a soft smile and a light blush on his face. You admired his handsome face for a little bit before you confidently responded, “She was flirting with you and I can’t have that.”

You spoke with confidence and an amused lilt but inside, you were apprehensive of what Junichiro would think. This was probably as close as you would get to admitting your feelings without actually admitting your feelings. Under the table and away from his eyes, you fidgeted with your rings.

Picking up the menu, Junichiro’s smile and blush only seemed to brighten even more, something that would have made you faint if you weren’t already sitting down.

The rest of the date, which is what you were going to call this hangout until further notice, went as smoothly as you could ever imagine. There was no flirty woman or awkward lulls in conversation. By the time the date was over, you still wanted to hang out with Junichiro. How could you not, he was just so jovial.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” he asked, making you swoon a bit further.

“What? You think I can’t protect myself as I walk home,” you teased, fingering the blade that’s strapped on your thigh.

Junichiro stammerred, “N-no, I just thought. . .”

As he trailed off, you were quick to calm his anxiousness by responding, “Well, you did save my life today and you looked extremely hot with your angry face and my knife in your hands so I think you’re worthy of walking a pretty lady home.”

Junichiro chuckled at your teasing, “I look hot when I'm mad and holding a knife?”

You walked in the direction of your house, Junichiro close next to you, “No. You look hot when you’re determined to save me.”

He was unable to respond, nervous because of your showering of compliments. The silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was soft and friendly. Eventually as you guys walked, you slipped your hand into Junichiro’s and gave him a little smirk. He smiled back and chuckled at your display.

When you got to the front of your apartment and your walk was over, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Junichiro?”

Still holding hands, he looked back at you with a soft smile, “Yes?”

You gave his hand a little squeeze, “I would like to do that again. . . as in a real date.”

A sigh of what you hoped was relief was let out of his mouth, “I absolutely agree. I really enjoy your company.”

The both of you could only stare at each other, admiring and head over heels. The light of your apartment building bathing the both of you in a soft, orange glow.

You pulled Junichiro closer to you, laying your hands around his neck. With a nervous jitter, he laid his hands to rest at your waist. Without further hesitation, the miniscule gap between the two of you shrank even more. The both of you shared the same breaths for a moment before you were brought together in a soft kiss.

The butterflies in your stomach settled as the kiss went on. Junichiro didn’t make you nervous anymore as he displayed the way he felt for you with his sweet lips. There were no fireworks going off, more like two hearts that are now beating the same rhythm. When the kiss was over, neither of you pulled away. You simply stared at each other with dazzling smiles and lovesick eyes.

#female reader #fluff #one shot #bungou stray dogs #tanizaki junichirou #bsd junichiro #junichiro tanizaki #junichirou tanizaki #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #fanfiction

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goodbye-alchemy · 7 months

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(Some Robin and Astarion lore hehe)

If you asked Astarion what his favorite things about Robin are, he’d give you a sly smile and mumble something about her body, maybe a praise for her battle prowess. But in truth, though he could never admit it, his very favorite thing about Robin was the way she described mushrooms.

Whilst traversing the Underdark early in their adventure, Astarion found himself driven to the point of madness at Robin’s incessant stopping and yapping about every species of fungal growth they encountered. It wasn’t like they were, oh I don’t know, infected with parasitic worms, threatening to turn them into illithid spawn at any moment.

On one particularly aggravating day, when Astarion had woken up from his trance on the wrong side of his bedroll, curls sitting incorrectly on his head, he finally burst. He approached Robin who was, unsurprisingly, hunched over a patch of mushrooms.

“Robin, I really must ask, why in the hells must you stop at every bloody dead pile of fungus in this godless Underdark?! I don’t know about you, but I am more than ready to reach Baldur’s Gate.” he huffed, hands balled into fists.

Robin, slightly startled at his outburst, looked up at him with a few mushrooms still clenched in her fist, eyes wide. For just a quick second, Astarion felt quite shit.

“Oh, Astarion… I apologize. I suppose I have gotten a bit carried away with the harvesting.” She tucked the stalks into her pouch. “I’m trying to collect them for my dad.” She stood up and brushed the soil off her knees. “I grew up hunting mushrooms with him here. Before he lost his sight, it was something our family did together in the spring.” Uh oh. Now he felt like a proper knob.

He blinked away the regret. “Well, while that is a sweet sentiment… we do have a destination in mind. Not sure if you remember those worms digging their way through our brains.” He said, driving a finger into his temple sarcastically.

Robin laughed. “How could I?... Would it be alright if I just grabbed a few more of these? They’re my dad’s favorite.” She looked at him eagerly, her eyes practically sparkling. If he could blush, he would be at this moment.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Hm.. Well, I suppose it would be alright. Just don’t be long…” He looked down at her, already happily harvesting away, and felt compelled to ask. “What’s so special about those things anyway?”

She wiped her brow. “These are called Flamebors… in the East, they call them “huochong”.. fireflies. Want to see why?” She had a playful smile on her face, and Astarion was just the slightest bit nervous. He uncrossed his arms and walked over cautiously.

She looked down at her hands and pressed her palms together, crushing the golden mushrooms thoroughly. When she opened them, what looked like thousands of floating embers drifted into the sky, illuminating the air around them, followed by the sound of sizzling. They were so bright it was nearly blinding, but Astarion couldn’t bear to look away. His mouth gaped open as he watched the lights, seemingly alive, rise to their freedom. “Wow…” he whispered, involuntarily. To think, such radiance grew in the dank Underdark.

“That is the same reaction I had when my dad first did that for us, my sister and I.” She smiled up at the lights. “My dad can’t see much of anything anymore… But in the pitch black, if I set these off, he swears it looks just as beautiful as it did when we were children…I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was then.”

Astarion blinked and suddenly felt the overwhelming need to look down at her, illuminated by the lights still waltzing above them. Her eyes were shining and brimming with tears, a dazzling smile on her face as she thought longingly of her family. She must miss them dearly. He had a memory of what that felt like, once.

He had forgotten what it felt like to miss someone, to yearn for someone… but he was starting to remember.

He’d never admit it, but this moment was the first of many where Astarion saw Robin as more than his ticket to being Cazador and tadpole-free. Something about how she described her joy, felt like it was pouring its way into the dark chasm he had been digging within himself for centuries, threatening to wake up his dead heart. Was it finally safe, finally alright, for him to enjoy things such as this without the fear of what lay behind him? His eyes reflected those lights that day, and they, in turn, carried him away with them, high above reach.

For the rest of their journey, it was Astarion who would stop at the mushroom patches, asking Robin to show him which was which, just so he could hear her speak. And he would listen intently, feeling every word take him far away from the world that had frightened him for so long.

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #headcanon #fanfic #tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #robin x astarion #i love her so bad

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january-summers · 3 months

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So anyway I was thinking about Agent Washington and hurting him and what if instead of Sigma, Maine got an AI!Washington.

But then I was like, wait, why would Washington be an AI? why would an AI (from PFL) be "Washington"?

And then I thought, what if they turned him into one. The brain train derailed into an abyss rather rapidly after that but the final plot line take away is:

During a mission Wash gets left behind by his team because they need to be extracted and they have no time to get him without risking more lives, and Wash gets it, he does, but he's also the one who saw some stuff and has information that needs to get back to the MoI. The others have some of the information, but not as much as Wash has, and what he knows that they don't, could mean all the difference.

So while running and fighting and trying to figure out his own way home, Wash finds an abandoned UNSC lab, with equipment for neural mapping.

And Wash is bleeding out by this point, he's on his last legs and the enemy (probably the covenant but hell it could be the flood for all I know, or some new alien threat because that's always fun) is pounding on the door.

Wash is out of time. He can set some traps, take out some part of their forces with him, but this is it and he knows it.

And then madcap idea.

There's still power in the facility, and a comms system that can get a line to the MoI, and he could send his helmet footage, if his helmet wasn't a busted piece of scrap by this point.

He's done enough research on AI's to understand how they're made, that there's often remnant memory from the host brain, and he is out of other options.

So Wash fries his brain making an AI copy, focusing until his brain gives out on the info he needs to send back, hoping that's what the AI remembers. He's automated the comms to send the AI file straight to the MoI and as the door breaks down his traps wipe the building and the surrounding area off the map.

Back up on MoI, Alpha and FILSS get to work untangling the data package Washington sent, find the information Wash had been so desperately trying to get to them, and pass it along.

It helps.

It takes a while for the AI to wake up, to figure out it exists beyond that one important data set, but when it does, it's Washington.

It feels like it's Washington, it remembers being Washington.

It looks into AI research more thoroughly now that it can, and considers his human brain had always been a little odd, a little better at remembering things than most. Maybe it was that, or maybe because his brain had been living during the scan, that he can remember being human.

It's... an adjustment, but Alpha's there to help him get his metaphorical feet under him.

(and then Wash gets assigned to Maine and also figures out what's happening to Alpha and there's an awesome jailbreak, and everyone (that we care about) lives happily ever after.)

...or maybe there's an accident on mission/during training, and Wash ends up in Bad Shape, and Director's like "donate your brain to science please?" and they scan/fry his brain there on the MoI itself.

#rvb #red vs blue #agent washington #i'll stop hurting him someday I swear #(i said‚ like a liar)

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punchdrunkdoc · 2 years

Text

Just Breathe - Ch. 22

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

Chapter 21 dropped tonight as well - make sure to read that first!

-----

Bruce was so much braver than she was.

Not for the first time, he had bared his soul to her - quite literally. He had offered up his mind, his thoughts, his memories, and the deepest, most hidden parts of his soul to her invasive touch. All to prove his love for her.

She needed to do the same.

They couldn’t start their lives together while she was keeping a secret from him. A secret that was already eating away at her, and filling her sleep with nightmares.

She swallowed nervously, unsure how to start.

He squeezed her hand in support. “Beth, you can tell me anything.”

She dropped her eyes to study their entwined hands. “I never answered you the other night, when you asked what had happened to my father before you arrived in the lab.” She licked her lips and continued. “Connell, um, found out that my father was double crossing him. He shot him in retaliation.”

“Okay,” Bruce said slowly. He sounded confused at the unexpected direction of the conversation.

“The reason he knew that, was because I told him. I got the chance to ‘read’ my father. I knew I needed some bit of dirt that would turn Connell against him. I wanted to get out of from under his control any way that I could.”

“That’s understandable, Beth, you-”

“I lied,” she blurted out, interrupting him.

“What?”

“I made it up. My father never double-crossed Connell. I made it up, and I got him killed.”

She risked a glance at his face, but his expression was unreadable. Heart pounding, the rest of her confession spilled out of her. “I’m so worried that it means I’m like him - manipulative. Scheming. A murderer.”

“Beth, no.” He squeezed her hand. “You did what you needed to do to survive.”

“It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I did it to punish him.”

“And I’d never judge you for that. Beth, you know what I do at night. You know that I’ve spent the last three years punishing criminals-”

“But you don’t kill them!” she cried. “You have such a strong code about it. You don’t kill…and I did. And I’m so scared that you’ll think less of me because of it.” She tried to pull her hand from his as tears started to fall from her eyes.

But he wouldn’t let go. He tipped forward off the coffee table, coming to his knees before her. “You didn’t pull the trigger, Beth. That's not on you - you can’t control what other people do. You were desperate and scared and angry and I don’t blame you at all for what you did. Do you hear me? This doesn’t change how I feel about you a single bit. You know its true.” He squeezed her hand to remind her that she was still connected to him.

Could still read him.

She looked into his heart…and discovered he was telling the truth.

He still loved her - just as much as before.

She laughed with relief, the sound wet with her tears. “Thank you,” she said, the words feeling utterly inadequate.

He brought his up to her face, and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. She leaned into his touch and smiled at him.

“Any other revelations you need to share? Any more secrets?” he asked.

She shook her head. It was the truth, but he only had her word on it. The discrepancy between them felt so unfair in that moment. “I wish I could give you my power - even just for five minutes - so you could know me as thoroughly as I know you. So you could see how much I love and adore you.”

He smiled at her. “You’ll just have to show me instead.”

Her smile widened. “I can definitely do that.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

———

Smiling through a kiss was a new sensation to Beth.

And so completely unexpected given the conversation they’d just shared.

Where they’d bared their souls and laid everything out on the table.

The kiss that followed that should have been solemn, profound.

Instead, this kiss felt like hope. Like a new beginning. Light and joyous and wonderful.

And she never wanted it to end.

She grasped the stiff collar of Bruce’s suit and pulled him off the floor. His knees cracked as he unfurled from his position and she muttered an apology into the space between their lips.

“S’okay,” he muttered back, collapsing onto the couch beside her in a squeak of leather.

Laughing through a kiss was also new.

Her head spun as the kiss deepened. She couldn’t believe they were here, like this. An hour ago she was curled up on this couch alone and depressed, wallowing in misery and drowning in guilt. Now she was clambering over Bruce’s lap to straddle him as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

His strong hands clasped her hips as she settled her weight on his legs. He pulled her closer until their lower bodies met, the sensation of his erection pressed against her core zinging through her like electricity.

And just like before at the party, she felt his hunger too. His feelings and emotions ricocheted through her from every point of contact between them.

It rocketed her desire from nought to sixty in seconds. The laughter and smiles faded as the kiss turned wanton and sensual.

She needed more.

More skin.

More contact.

She started grasping at the armour at his shoulders, at the kevlar plates covering his chest, but they wouldn’t budge. With a frustrated growl, she broke the kiss. “How the hell do you get these off?”

He laughed, finding her slightly manic rush to disrobe him adorable. She ‘saw’ the way she looked through his eyes and covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her hands away. “Don’t apologise.”

She tried to get her desires under control - she could feel her heart pounding and her breathing was fast and shallow. “It’s just…”

“What?” he asked, running his hands up and down her thighs as if to sooth her.

“I can…feel…everything you’re feeling. And when you add that to what I’m feeling…”

“It’s a lot,” he finished.

“Yeah. Understatement.”

He laughed. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No…but I just want us to be in this together. Without me…racing ahead.”

He leaned forward, sweeping her hair to the side to brush a series of light kisses down her throat. “I’m catching up, quick. Believe me.”

Her head fell back as he continued his journey down to her collarbone. He gathered the edge of her cardigan and the straps of her camisole and bra and pulled them to the side, continuing his exploration across her bare shoulder.

His other hand pulled her against his erection again. It was harder. More insistent. “Do you feel me catching up?” he murmured between kisses.

“Yeah,” she breathed, feeling light headed with all the sensations. Her hands came up to his shoulders to steady herself, and she remembered why they’d stopped before. She tapped on his shoulder guards. “So can you take these off, please?”

She wanted to do some exploring of her own.

In a quick movement that took her by surprise, he lifted her off her lap and deposited her on the couch beside him. He got to his feet and started unsnapping and removing plates and capes and boots until he was left in just the motorcycle suit underneath. He grasped the zipper at his throat but she jumped to her feet to take over the task. She pulled the tab down, her eyes locked with his, then removed the jacket from his wide shoulders.

She untucked his t-shirt from his pants and raised it over his head, tossing it on the floor behind her. She dropped her eyes to his bare chest. “Finally,” she said, causing him to chuckle softly.

And nervously?

As she stroked her fingers over his pale skin, feeling the hard muscle underneath, her impression of nerves was confirmed.

He was worried his scars would be off-putting to her.

Silly man, she wanted to say. Instead, she told him how beautiful he was to her with her touch. She traced the scar on his bicep with her thumb as she mapped the contours of his arms. She rested her hands on his abs, running them over the bumps and dips of his six pack as she leaned forward to kiss the circular wound on his right chest.

She caught a glimpse of the gunman who had caused that mark, before Bruce shut down the memory. She froze as the violent recollection encroached on their private moment, but only for a second before continuing. She trailed her fingers across his chest as she stepped behind him. She pressed her lips against each of the lines criss-crossing his back. “I love every one of these scars,” she whispered, bringing her arms around him to hold him from behind. “They represent an act of survival. They mean that you were able to live…to be here with me, right now.”

He was silent, his head bowed forward, but his skin told her all she needed to know.

He felt loved.

She smiled and hugged him harder, glad that he was able to feel the truth of her feelings for him.

She picked up on his plan a moment before he executed it, so she was ready when he spun around to gather her up against him. His head dropped down and the kiss was…everything. Loving and passionate and messy and amazing.

She gripped fistfuls of his hair and stepped as close to him as she could, rising to her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. His palms flattened against her back, under her top, the warmth of his touch spreading across her skin. Her own hands dropped down to grip the tops of his arms.

He didn’t wince, or break the spell of their kiss, but she felt a jolt of pain come from him. He was bruised from a fight last night, and she’d inadvertently pressed against the injured area. An image flared in her mind of him falling through the floor of an abandoned warehouse, crashing into the basement below and landing on the arm she’d just squeezed.

She flinched.

“Sorry,” he said against her lips.

She just shook her head in response. It wasn’t his fault his mind had slipped.

She tried to ignore the negative intrusions of her gift and focus on the love and lust pouring from him.

It worked for only a few more moments.

When he tried to remove her cardigan and the sleeve caught on her cast, he was reminded of how she got injured…and of his own desire to punish her father. She was bombarded with a quick-fire series of images of Bruce pummelling the older man.

She broke the kiss and stepped away from the contact.

“Shit,” he muttered bending over to rest his hands on his knees. He looked annoyed at himself. “Shit. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

She pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks and tried to diffuse the tension that was now emanating from him. “Under any other circumstances, I would have enjoyed seeing that.”

He huffed out a laugh and straightened up. “I’m sure you managed to inflict some pain of your own.”

She held up her broken hand. “I obviously did it wrong. Instead of checking you out while you were using your punching bag, I should have been taking notes on proper form.”

He laughed again.

She would never tire of the sound. She would spend her life trying to make this man happy.

He stepped towards her, his arm outstretched…but she dodged the contact on instinct, her mind still recovering from the violent intrusion.

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I, um, think I need to take some of that blocker.”

“You don’t look happy at the thought.”

“It just…it feels like I’m giving up. Admitting defeat. I wanted to see if I could do this without a…crutch.”

“Hey,” he said, stepping close again to rub his hand down her arm through the sleeve of her cardigan. “It’s not a crutch. And it doesn’t make you weak or…lacking…to need some help. You wear glasses to help you see. I wear armour to protect me when I fight and take painkillers to keep me going. This is just another aid.”

She nodded. It didn’t seem like a big deal when he put it that way. But there was another reason for her reluctance to use one of the vials.

She only had five left.

She contemplated the measly supply as they both crowded into her small bathroom. Bruce once again picked up on her hesitance. “What is it?”

“I need to ration these. But I don’t know how little I can get away with using and still have it be effective.”

“You don’t have to ration them.”

“But that’s all I have,” she pointed to the row of small glass containers.

“Its a good job I bought a pharmaceutical company then.”

“What?”

“The lab that analysed the serum - its part of a pharmaceutical company that I bought. They’re already working on manufacturing more. As much as you need.”

She shook her head, stunned. “You bought a pharmaceutical company?”

He shrugged. “Just a small one.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

He tilted his head and looked at her strangely. “Beth…don’t you know that I’d do anything for you?”

She did now.

And she would do the same for him. Including injecting herself with the serum her father created. A serum that would give her a normal life - and allow her to love Bruce the way he deserved.

She shrugged out of her cardigan and prepped the syringe. As she did so, the absurdity of the moment hit her. “This is a real mood killer, huh?” She waved the syringe between them. “So romantic.”

“It’s us. That’s romantic enough for me.”

She tilted her head to smile at him fondly. “And you said you weren’t good with words.”

He shrugged. Then winced as she injected the needle into her arm. She glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t like needles?”

“I don’t have a problem with them. I just have a problem with sharp objects piercing your skin.”

She chuckled as she capped the needle. “You big softie.”

He rolled his eyes, and looked away, catching his reflection in the mirror behind him. He cursed under his breath as he got a look at the thick black smudges around his eyes that stood out under the bright lights of her bathroom. He grabbed some tissues from the countertop and started scrubbing harshly at the greasepaint.

“Hey!” she admonished, snatching the tissue out of his hand.

“What? You prefer the racoon look?”

“I’d prefer you don’t abuse your skin like that. You’ll end up with wrinkles.” She grabbed some of her makeup wipes and manoeuvred him onto the toilet seat. She stepped between his legs and started gently swiping away the paint.

“Wrinkles?” he murmured, his hands coming up to rest on her hips.

“Yes. The skin under your eyes is very delicate,” she lectured in a prim tone, trying to keep the smile from her face. “You need to treat it gently or you’ll get premature wrinkles and bags under your eyes.”

“We can’t have that,” he whispered, closing his eyes, seeming to enjoy her ministrations.

Dabbing away the last of the black marks, she scrunched up the wipe and chucked it in the bin. She traced her fingers over his freshly cleaned skin. Her Bruce was back. “Hi, there.”

He opened his eyes and squeezed her hips. “Hi,” he whispered, his gaze turning heated. “How’s that blocker doing?”

“Let me check.” She swept his hair back from his forehead and pressed a kiss to his brow. Then another to the corner of his eye. The sharp edge of his cheekbone. The angle of his jaw…

And she felt nothing but his skin and the pounding of her own heart.

“I think we’re good,” she whispered pressing her lips to his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at him, a mischievous curl of her lips. “But I think I need some more skin-to-skin contact. Just to be absolutely positive.”

“That can be arranged,” he replied, grasping her by the back of her thighs and lifting her with him as he stood. She squeaked in surprise, but quickly got with the program. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

And kissed him.

He carried her back into the hallway and then into her bedroom; the part of her brain not short-circuiting from the movement of their bodies together, marvelled at his ability to navigate her apartment with his eyes half-closed as they kissed.

He lay her on the bed and followed her down, not breaking the delicious contact between them. She took his weight, bracketing his lower body with her thighs, and gasped as he rocked against her. She ran her hands across his strong back, revelling in the feel of of his skin.

And just his skin.

With no unwanted thoughts bombarding her. No intrusive images spoiling the mood. No fear of what she might discover.

She didn’t even miss sharing in his desires - because now she was free to concentrate on her own.

Free.

That’s what it felt like. Pure freedom. To finally just bask in sensation and enjoy what the rest of the world took for granted.

And she wanted more.

She wriggled her hands between them to grasp the bottom of her camisole. Realising what she was trying to do, Bruce lifted off her slightly. She used the extra room to pull off her top, leaving her in her plain satin bra.

She wished she was wearing something a little more sexy…but she needn’t have worried. The way Bruce was devouring the sight of her, you’d think she was wearing stripper-worthy lingerie.

He dropped his head to kiss the slope of her breasts and she felt his hands wedge underneath her back to loosen the clasp of the bra. It snapped free and he pulled the straps down her arm without lifting his head. The garment was tossed to the side, and his lips moved to her nipples.

She grabbed his hair, running her fingers through the strands as he lavished attention on her bare breasts. The feelings were…

Indescribable.

She was lost in pure sensation, and enjoying the hell out of it.

She wanted him to feel just as good too. She brought one leg up and pushed against him, until he got the hint and rolled onto his back. She straddled his legs, and grasped the zipper for his pants. She pulled it down and slipped her hand inside to cup his hardness.

He let out a guttural moan and dropped his head back on the bed. She smiled and continued rubbing his hard length, loving the feel of him in her hands.

She wanted more.

She was discovering she was quite greedy when it came to sex.

Or maybe it was just when it came to Bruce.

She scooted off the bed, tugging his pants and boxers off as she went until he was naked before her. He propped himself up on his forearms and watched as she rid herself of her own pants and underwear.

At his heated stare roamed her naked body, her boldness suddenly deserted her. She bit her lip, suddenly feeling timid.

He must have noticed, because he got off the bed and took her in his arms. “Are you okay?” he whispered, running his hands down her back in a soothing motion.

She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Yeah, just…a little nervous.”

“Beth...have you done this before?”

It would have been a strange question to ask a normal 30-odd year old woman. But Beth was not normal.

“No,” she admitted. “The few times I tried, I was never able to get this…far…before.”

He hugged her tighter against him and dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Its just me.” He kissed the sensitive skin behind the lobe. “Its just us. We can do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

She laughed, and he pulled back to meet her smiling face. “Believe me - I want to do everything. I was just a little…overwhelmed there for a second. I never thought I’d get to experience this - let alone with someone I love so much.”

He smiled in return. “Me neither. I thought I’d given up this kind of life three years ago. And even before that, I wasn’t exactly playing the field. We can figure this out together.”

And they did.

It was a little awkward at first - but that just led to shy smiles and soft laughter that filled the hushed intimate space of her bedroom, making everything seem so much more…real somehow.

Imperfect and faltering…but wonderful.

Just like their relationship.

But then they found their rhythm, and it was hot, and passionate and amazing. She tightened her thighs around Bruce’s narrow hips as he thrust inside her. She grabbed at the skin of his back as her pleasure built and built, the stubble of his jaw scratching against her neck as he kissed her adding to the melee of sensation until she finally fell over the edge.

Bruce followed her moments later with a low sexy moan. He collapsed on top of her, and she gladly took his weight, revelling in it.

She stroked his back with long sweeps of her fingers as his breathing recovered. She felt boneless; her body languid, and sated, and achy in all the most delicious ways.

She couldn’t wait to do it again.

She smiled, and that was the sight that greeted Bruce when he finally raised his head. He propped himself up on his forearms and smoothed the hair away from her face. He smiled back at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied, her smile widening.

“You okay?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “I’m more than okay.”

“Good,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her. It started light, a delicate brush of his lips against hers. But as she’d recently discovered, she was greedy when it came to this man. She hooked her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

Just as things were progressing towards Round 2, a loud wailing siren split the quiet night air. The sound of a police car.

Another chimed in.

And another.

Then the sounds of gunshots joined the chaotic chorus.

She frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Not good at all,” Bruce replied. He extricated himself from her arms and padded to her bedroom window. She quickly joined him, shrugging into her dressing gown. He opened her blinds, and there in the sky was his symbol, the bat silhouette bouncing off the grey storm clouds overhead.

The city needed Batman.

His back stiffened, and she knew he felt torn. He wanted to go, but he was worried she’d feel abandoned after what they’d just done.

She didn’t always need her powers to read him.

She placed a hand on his back. “Go,” she said softly.

He turned to look at her, a frown on his face. “But…”

She smiled. “It’s okay, Bruce.” She nodded her head to the world outside their haven. “They need you. Go.”

He pressed a quick, desperate kiss to her lips then tore out of her bedroom, already morphing from her gentle, quiet Bruce into the stalwart vigilante that Gotham knew. She followed him into the main room and stood by the window, watching him gear up, the still-blaring sirens adding an urgent soundtrack to his actions.

Fully dressed now, his heavy boots clomped against her floors as he made his way towards her. She remembered the first time she’d seen him in this apartment; how incongruous he seemed in his black leather armour amidst her florals and pastels.

The juxtaposition seemed even greater now, with her barefoot and barely dressed in front of him.

But the contrast was no longer jarring.

This was still her Bruce…and she loved him.

That’s how she could let him go so easily. He was Gotham’s protector. It was his calling. It was the reason she fell for him in the first place.

So she would never stand in his way.

She would just make sure to always be there for him when he returned.

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his stubbled jaw. “Give ‘em, hell.”

He smiled, ducked through the window…and disappeared into the night.

-----

EPILOGUE

-----

Taglist: @hollandorks @grunge-n-roses5 @xmxrfx @neptunesands @caramelcandescence @blossomedfloweroflove @wanderdreamer @angelsarecallin @stephenismyking @rabbitdictionary @starshipvelociraptor @yanna-banana @batmanlovesnirvana @bees-fart-too @hypnoash @eravanaaaah @anescapistreality @beigetrash @shimmeringgrim @battinsonbaby @blue-aconite

#batman #The Batman 2022 #Batman fic #batman fanfic #The Batman 2022 fic #Battinson #Battinson fic #bruce wayne x original character #bruce wayne/OC #batman x oc #batman / oc #just breathe #carrawayne

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albertbutyoucancallmebert · 5 months

Text

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy let out a small, relieved sigh. How much could Bert hold against him when he’d done the same himself? …Only it wasn’t as dangerous or as prolonged… Or poking his nose into Quincy’s business… Or- He shook his head to ground himself before he could paralyze himself with fear. Then he clenched his eye shut and took a long, deep breath

“I… well… the deciding factor for truly committing to infiltrating the Glornists was..,” He froze for a moment before nudging Sherri Jr. off and abruptly getting up. The sudden, careless movement aggravated Teddy’s ribs, causing him to instinctive clutch his hands to his chest. But he had bigger worries so pushed through it to hurry to the exit. He poked his head out to thoroughly scan the hallway for any bugs or rats. Then he checked the door frame itself and last of all, shone his phone light into the vent before tucking it away. After a long pause Teddy concluded that there was nobody in there. Otherwise he would have heard something. It was safe. All he had to worry about was Bert’s reaction… Once he returned to Bert he scooped Sherri Jr. up and hugged her while burying his face in his fur. This time he was a bit louder than usual, with his voice uncharacteristically frantic. “I wanted to kill him before he could hurt you again!” Teddy stood next to Bert and loosening his grip on Sherri so she could hop onto her owner’s lap. Then he started to pace. “And I thought that disposing the body would be the hardest part! Everything would be fine! You wouldn’t have to ever know!” He pushed his fist to his forehead to ward off an oncoming headache. “But he’s far more powerful than I imagined and-” At that instant his memory of Bert’s abject despair flashed in his mind, and he came to a complete halt as he cut himself off. Then he attempted to calm down before resuming. “How could I have been so arrogant! I’m sorry I overstepped! I’m sorry I didn’t trust that you could handle yourself! You’re…” Teddy plopped down in the closest counter’s stool, with his back to Bert, and buried his face in his hands. The adrenaline rapidly faded at the thought of how powerless he really was. His voice wobbled as he said, “……You’re far stronger than me anyways… All…” Teddy had deflated with each passing word, only to jolt upright with a sharp hiss when his pain from his fractured ribs caught up with him. What was he doing? How selfish… This was supposed to be his apology to Bert. But instead he had shown him a breakdown and directed attention to his feelings. How shameful… Teddy wiped away the tears brimming on his eye with his sleeve. Then again. And again, with him getting more and more frustrated each time. He had to pull himself together to avoid guilting Bert! …More than he already had! “It… was… all for… nothing…”

Bert uneasily watched as Teddy abruptly started checking his door and vents for… whatever. Well, he was glad that Teddy was such a cautious person, but Bert couldn’t help but think how paranoid someone in his position must be.

“You don’t have to do…” Bert trailed off before finishing his sentence, figuring that letting Teddy do his checks would help him have a little peace of mind.

Finally, upon Teddy’s frantic admission, Bert was taken aback. He could do nothing but hold on to Sherri Jr and watch as his dear friend struggled through a breakdown as he tried to explain himself.

Once Teddy sat down in a stool at the counter, Bert set Sherri Jr down with a pat on the head before walking towards him. He was tempted to give him a comforting hug or maybe a back pat, but Teddy’s abrupt upright jolt and pained inhale deterred him. Bert did not miss the weird ridged ways Teddy was moving that evening. He wondered if it had anything to do with his secretive “sickness.”

Bert heaved a heavy sigh, and retrieved a tissue box from a nearby drawer to set in front of his friend. Bert then sat down on the stool beside him. And while it was what Teddy wanted to avoid, Bert was filled with a profound, immense guilt. He would’ve felt this guilt regardless of how Teddy delivered this news.

Bert was quiet while a million thoughts raced through his head, none of them suitable to say out loud. Did Teddy think he was his personal assassin or something? What the hell was he thinking? Why go through all this trouble for some guy he’d only been friends with for like, maybe a year? Among his many thoughts, one finally slipped out of Bert’s mouth.

“You’re still there, stuck… Because of me…”

He folded his hands together on the counter and averted his eye.

“I wish you would have said something earlier.”

He briefly paused. “Or… Maybe I wish I was more proactive in supporting you, so you’d be more comfortable telling me things? Or maybe I wish I was more vehement about dissuading you. Regardless, I wish…” Bert sunk his head into his arms. “I wish I did something other than bury my head in the sand hoping everything would blow over. As I always do. You’d think after eight years of looking away while those damn Glornists constantly tormented me and the rest of the Skullship, I’d have learned my lesson. But no.”

“I… I didn’t know Percy had achieved magic capabilities until I saw them for myself. I always thought he was somehow lying with stage tricks or something. And yet when I did learn of this… I still did nothing. I’m sorry. You may think I'm stronger than you, but Grop, am I a million times more cowardly too.”

#stuckinuniformdevelopment #long post

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stuckinuniformdevelopment · 5 months

Text

@albertbutyoucancallmebert

(Previous) Bert waited patiently as Teddy worked up the nerve to say something. Poor guy. Why did he seem so intimidated? Bert scooched a bit closer to try and pick up on Teddy's small voice, and managed to hear enough of it. An odd thing and specific thing to bring up… But between the mention of Percival and Teddy’s nervousness, Bert figured this discussion was probably going to be about that damn cult. He was apprehensive, but curious. Bert took a moment to recall that awful evening. “I… Believe I only told him afterwards. Why?”

Teddy let out a small, relieved sigh. How much could Bert hold against him when he'd done the same himself?

...Only it wasn't as dangerous or as prolonged... Or poking his nose into Quincy's business... Or-

He shook his head to ground himself before he could paralyze himself with fear. Then he clenched his eye shut and took a long, deep breath.

"I... well... the deciding factor for truly committing to infiltrating the Glornists was..," He froze for a moment before nudging Sherri Jr. off and abruptly getting up.

The sudden, careless movement aggravated Teddy's ribs, causing him to instinctive clutch his hands to his chest. But he had bigger worries so pushed through it to hurry to the exit.

He poked his head out to thoroughly scan the hallway for any bugs or rats. Then he checked the door frame itself and last of all, shone his phone light into the vent before tucking it away.

After a long pause Teddy concluded that there was nobody in there. Otherwise he would have heard something. It was safe. So all he had to worry about was Bert's reaction...

Once he returned to Bert he scooped Sherri Jr. up and hugged her while burying his face in her fur. This time he was a bit louder than usual, with his voice uncharacteristically frantic.

"I wanted to kill him before he could hurt you again!" Teddy stood next to Bert and loosened his grip on Sherri so she could hop onto her owner's lap. Then he started to pace.

"And I thought that disposing the body would be the hardest part! Everything would be fine! You wouldn't have to ever know!" He pushed his fist to his forehead to ward off an oncoming headache. "But he's far more powerful than I imagined and-"

At that instant his memory of Bert's abject despair flashed in his mind, and he came to a complete halt as he cut himself off. Then he attempted to calm down before resuming.

"How could I have been so arrogant! I'm sorry I overstepped! I'm sorry I didn't trust that you could handle yourself! You're..."

Teddy plopped down in the closest counter's stool, with his back to Bert, and buried his face in his hands. The adrenaline rapidly faded at the thought of how powerless he really was. His voice wobbled as he said,

"......You're far stronger than me anyways... All..." Teddy had deflated with each passing word, only to jolt upright with a sharp hiss when his pain from his fractured ribs caught up with him.

What was he doing? How selfish... This was supposed to be his apology to Bert. But instead he had shown him a breakdown and directed attention to his feelings. How shameful...

Teddy used his sleeve to wipe his irritating tears. Then again. And again, with him getting more and more frustrated each time. He had to pull himself together to avoid guilting Bert! ...More than he already had!

"It... was... all for... nothing..."

#albertbutyoucancallmebert #long post #The Truth

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voyageofthenautilus · 1 year

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Some thoughts on Captain Nemo & Prof. Aronnax

Some recent discussion got me thinking about this, and with the start of "The Indian Ocean" and the second half of the book, I thought I’d toss out this very general thought and let other, more intelligent people than myself pile onto it, if they’re so inclined.

So the universal experience of reading 20k Leagues is that we all fall in love with Captain Nemo, right? I sure did when I read it as a kid (as did my fellow mod). I don’t think I’d encountered a character like him before. Part of the novelty was how mysterious he was. Before I read the book where his backstory is explained in full, I had no idea what had driven him to reject human society so thoroughly, and the ambiguity was delicious. Another aspect that was new to me was how enjoyable a character he was, while not being heroic or even morally good. I remember feeling conflicted when I was young about what it meant that I liked characters like that- characters I found compelling, but who objectively were not good people. There were more characters like this that came into my life through the years, but Nemo was definitely the first.

The first time I read 20k Leagues as an adult, I saw in Nemo traits that I recognized from a person I’d once known in real life- a horrible manipulator. The violence he causes also stood out in stark contrast with my fond memories of the character. In remembering only the more alluring aspects of Nemo’s character, I had completely wiped out the parts of him that actually made him interesting to me in the first place. Even now, as we go through this story in real time, my memory of loving the character clouds his actual actions. I’ll read one of Nemo’s impassioned speeches and start nodding along, then realize… what am I agreeing with, here? The misanthropic ravings of a bitter man who won’t let himself heal from his trauma and has found perhaps the absolute worst coping mechanism? And why am I trying to reconcile the unsavory aspects of Nemo’s character, as if I need to justify my interest in him? (There’s a whole argument here about what it means to like morally complex characters and how Nemo fans would be cancelled on TikTok if this book had been released in modern times, but putting aside those half-joking thoughts…)

All of this is to say… I feel like anyone who falls in love with Nemo as a character is experiencing something similar to what Aronnax is going through. Because as I said, Nemo reminds me of a manipulator I once knew, someone who had a certain charisma about him and was able to draw people in with his larger-than-life personality and entertaining stories, who also took advantage of the effect he had on people to unfortunately hurt them. I don’t think Nemo is necessarily trying to draw Aronnax in, at least not from the start, but the way he singles him out and shows him all of the Nautilus’ technological marvels during their very first official meeting, then exerts his dominance over him by refusing to see him again for an extensive period of time (making Aronnax wait for him), and also the thing with the panels opening at just the right time to dazzle Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned with all these visions of undersea life feels so calculated and intentional, even though I know there was no way that Nemo could have heard their conversation… All of this reminds me so strong of the behavior of that person I once knew, and it makes me feel deeply for Aronnax and see him as a victim. Aronnax is so dazzled by the abundant resources available to him and by Nemo himself, the mysterious Man of the Waters, that he’s willing to stay aboard the Nautilus and overlook the implications of atrocities that Nemo is almost definitely committing. This mirrors my own reaction as a youngster (I was 12 when I first read this book) to Nemo and Twenty Thousand Leagues as a whole, where I ended up overlooking the dark aspects of Nemo’s character, and the deeper underlying themes of the novel, in favor of OOH THE SEA IS SO COOL and oooooh edgy genius with a submarine (lol). I think this is also similar to the phenomenon of people falling in love with villainous characters and making excuses for them because they’re cute or have a tragic backstory.

And this can be tied in to real life and how a comfortable life can lure people into a state of apathy and selfishness. I recall a time I knew someone in a creative field who repeatedly expressed racist and sexist views, and the people who worked with him claimed not to agree with him but still chose to work with him because the opportunity and benefits were too great. This is what I find the situation that Aronnax is in as the second half of the book begins reminding me of the most. Aronnax knows that something unpleasant is going on, and he knows at least one of his companions doesn’t want to stay onboard the Nautilus, and he knows they’re all truly prisoners. He’s aware that should there be an opportunity for him to escape, his companion will take it, and he doesn’t want to leave him behind. And he also at least has a strong enough sense of self-preservation that he knows escaping would be good for him, too. But he also admits that he doesn’t want to end this underwater tour of the world, and I can imagine that he doesn’t want to reckon with the idea that this person who has taken him in and opened up an entirely new world to him of wonders and beauty could be committing any unjustified acts of violence. And in my eyes, it’s not just about the voyage- Nemo himself is so compelling to Aronnax that even though he KNOWS he shouldn’t trust him, he allows himself to overlook that because his knowledge, his intellect, and maybe even the enigma itself attract him.

Just wanted to push those thoughts out there like a kitten batting a ball. I can’t describe what a valuable and enriching experience it’s been so far to not only re-read this book as an adult, not only read (for the first time) a marvelous translation that restores the full text of the book, but also to share this experience with others whose insights push me to examine the text with a more critical eye and, in turn, examine my own thoughts/feelings/reaction to it.

#thoughts from mod blue #voyage of the nautilus #meta #Captain Nemo #perhaps i am way off base here idk #i wrote this before the most recent update based on my recollections of the way the plot was going to go #but today's update changed some stuff for me

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