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milliesfishes · 24 days

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The Heir

(requested)(@kayleigh--23 <3) [fem reader] contains: pregnancy angst, arranged marriage, pressure to become pregnant. pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: (au) You thought being married to Coriolanus Snow would be enough, but when there is pressure on the two of you to have a child, the events that follow are life changing. author’s note: Oh I do adore pregnancy angst. Another take on the arranged marriage trope, please enjoy! Pinterest Board

"...an heir."

You could barely hear the words through the door. Your husband of one and a half years and an old Snow family friend, a man called Mr. Vesta, had disappeared into his study an hour ago and they hadn't allowed you in. It had sounded important, and you couldn't help it, you needed to know what it was. Especially after you'd heard your name mentioned more than once.

With one ear to the door, you'd caught bits and pieces of the conversation. None of it made sense in your mind, this new bit of information least of all.

Coriolanus Snow was the least objectionable option when it came to marriage. Not that you'd had a choice at all in the matter, but for your own peace of mind you pretended. You pretended it hadn't been a strategic political move on his part to marry someone from your family. You pretended Mr. Vesta wasn't overbearingly and old fashioned-ly invested in the image the two of you presented as a married couple.

The goal was to make him president. You knew that much. And Mr. Vesta, as well as having known Coriolanus his entire life, had experience in running for office. But you knew very little else. Politics in Panem were a mystery to you, and at times they could be archaic. At least, the things everyone wanted you to do were.

The dresses you had to wear, the people you were seen with, how you acted. Hell, the arranged marriage itself seemed that way to you. But this was how it was done. Your own mother had married your father for similar reasons, though her situation had nothing to do with politics, only social gain. Yours was both.

You went into the marriage with a positive attitude. This will be what you make of it, you'd been told. You figured if you walked in with a positive attitude and determination it would work out the best it could.

But then you met your husband to be.

He was handsome but cold. Charming but manipulative. Attentive at times but distant at most. Every good thing about him was punctuated by a flaw. He'd make a good politician, you'd noted.

The wedding was a blur of photographers and fed lines. He'd barely acknowledged you, and you knew every look, every touch was false. It cheapened the whole experience for you, and a resentment built up inside you.

At least after the wedding night he'd allowed separate bedrooms.

Maybe you'd have felt guilty about your feelings toward him if he'd shown any sign of fondness toward you. But he didn't. He ignored you most days, except when he needed your influence or your image or your body.

Which is why now, in the present, you hardly worried about the consequences of eavesdropping. If they were talking about you in there, you deserved to know.

"...bring her in..."

Forgetting your confidence, you scurried away as quietly as you could, returning to the sitting room, where you'd last been spotted by them. Picking up a book, you pretended to read until Mr. Vesta, an older man with a beard, came in and said that your presence was required in the study.

Ignoring the way he'd spoken to you in your own home, you followed him back through the study doors, nodding at everyone in the room before your eyes moved to your husband.

Coriolanus was sitting behind his desk, a look of discontentment on his face. What had they been talking about in here? You moved to his side automatically. He may have not been your number one pick, but he was the safest person in the room for you to stand by.

Putting your hand on the back of his chair, you looked between them. "What did you need from me?"

"We're here to discuss a proposition," Mr. Vesta said, looking entirely too comfortable. He nodded at your husband. "Snow?"

Coriolanus took in an almost frustrated breath and turned up to you. He held eye contact with you for a moment before speaking. "It has been suggested that we..." he inhaled through his nose. "...produce an heir."

You blinked in surprise, doing a double take. When you looked at the other man, you could see that this wasn't a joke. They were serious.

"...No," you said in disbelief, looking back at your husband. "This was never part of the arrangement."

"Things change," Mr. Vesta said, giving you a pointed look. "It is imperative that you produce an heir by the end of the year. A male heir."

That sentence was so offensive to you that you had to look away for a moment. When you gathered your manners back, you said, "Why is this suddenly so important? Isn't us being married enough?"

"Coriolanus is the last of the Snow name," Mr. Vesta said, seeming to think he was providing an explanation. "It would have to happen eventually. In the best interest of keeping the old family names around."

"I don't see how that serves your interests," you said stiffly, and Coriolanus grabbed your hand, squeezing it as a warning, the cool of his ring pressing into your skin.

"It was of the utmost importance to Crassus that I, specifically, see this through," the bearded man said in stern tones. "He hoped his son would be able to carry it out on his own-" he gave Coriolanus his own pointed look- "but since he has not, it was time for me to step in. Not to mention that having a son would increase political gains greatly. Seeing that an old family is still strong."

You were dazed. It all felt so ridiculous to you. Of all the things they'd made you do for this role, this had to be the worst. They were asking you to not just sleep with a man you hated, but to bear his child. And Coriolanus himself looked less than happy about it.

"Within the year," Mr. Vesta repeated, and he stood up. "Both your image and your obligations to your family depend on it." He nodded stiffly at you, then left. You never got the impression that Mr. Vesta was all that fond of you. He didn't see you as a person, more as a machine that broke now and then but was ultimately served its' purpose.

Once he was gone, you turned to Coriolanus, your expression horrified. "You're not seriously thinking about this are you?"

"We don't have a choice," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Yes we do," you protested, kneeling by his chair, grasping the arm. You were trying to look him in the eye, but he was avoiding you. "We're already married. Your image is intact-"

"But my family isn't," he said sharply, turning suddenly to look at you. "You don't understand. I have a responsibility to continue the line and Vesta reminded me of that." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. "I apologize that I didn't disclose this before but it's not optional."

"Coriolanus-"

"You think I want to do this?" His voice was irritated, and he stood up suddenly. You did too, surprised.

"No, but-"

"We have to," he said angrily, pacing. "I don't want to do it either but there are no other options. I need Vesta's support, and unfortunately that comes with the wishes of my late father."

You were silent, tears pricking your eyes as you realized this was really going to have to happen. Scoffing in disbelief and trying to hide your emotion, you buried your face in your hands.

He sighed, and you heard him move closer to you, his polished shoes making a distinct sound on the hardwood floor. "Sweetheart...I'm sorry. I am. But you're my wife. You know that means fulfilling certain...obligations."

Coriolanus took your hands in his, removing them from your face. "We'll make the process as quick as possible, okay?"

When you nodded, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. "That's a good girl. The sooner you're pregnant the sooner it'll be over with."

It was terrifying how well Coriolanus knew himself.

The domineering persona he'd built up when entering the political game may as well have become him. It was a skill he'd honed- the art of pretend.

But every thorn had its flower.

You.

Before meeting you he had high hopes for marriage. He'd hoped you'd be tolerable to look at, decent in conversation, with half a brain. Someone who'd please him, but nothing more.

But you were far beyond that.

Upon your first meeting he knew he was doomed. You were extraordinarily beautiful, with a pretty laugh. And so clever. You'd discussed literature and art so naturally, easy as breathing. Within the first hour of knowing you he knew he could fall deeply, madly in love with you.

And therein laid the problem.

Love was not the goal. In fact, love strayed so far from the goal that it was almost the opposite. If Coriolanus fell in love with you, it would ruin him. His mind, his soul, his pursuits. He'd gone to Vesta afterward and asked if there was anyone else, anyone at all. Surely there was some other girl who was less...enticing, but still had good connections.

Vesta hadn't seen a problem with the arrangement. He'd chided Coriolanus for it. He had the most sought-after woman in the Capitol. Your social status would make him more favorable in the eyes of voters, as would seeing him in love. Seeing no other options, Coriolanus had agreed.

To marrying you, not being in love.

He'd endured the game, accompanying you to dinners and galas, and going through with the wedding, all the while keeping you at arm's length. Coriolanus resolved that the only way to keep himself from falling in love was distance. And distance he maintained.

Except for at public events, he avoided you. Occasionally, he'd beckon you to his bed, whenever he needed to relieve some stress or tension, but that was the extent of it. He couldn't help himself- you were just so perfect. And you were his wife after all.

No matter how he justified his actions, it still felt wrong.

With Vesta's newest demand Coriolanus felt his control over the situation slipping. The old man didn't know what he was asking of him. Honestly how could he have, but it was still frustrating. He was asking them to produce a child as casually as one would ask a favor.

The worst part was seeing how distraught you were over it. A bit of his heart had warmed at seeing how you'd come to stand by his side but it was squashed quickly by what he had to tell you.

An heir. And not just an heir, a son.

Coriolanus could have strangled Vesta. It was ridiculous how invested he was in such private affairs. But his father's old friend was experienced in an area he desperately needed help in: politics. So, he had no choice but to accept.

Seeing you on the verge of tears had nearly broken him. He allowed himself to comfort you, just a little, convincing himself that that was what any husband would do, even if he didn't love his wife, which Coriolanus certainly didn't.

You fell pregnant quickly, which he was thankful for. For his sake but surprisingly, more for yours.

Naturally, he kept close tabs on you while still trying to maintain the distance he'd determined was the best solution for the situation. Reports were delivered to him daily.

You were quiet most days, hardly speaking to anyone. He felt guilt over that. Vesta and their public relations team had determined that for the first bit of pregnancy it was best for the two of you to stay out of the spotlight. That meant you were hardly able to leave. And with his insistence on distance, well...it was inevitable that you'd be lonely.

As the months progressed, his reports contained more concerning information. You were losing weight at an alarming rate, becoming more drawn. The baby was doing exceptionally well thanks to the doctors he'd brought in. But you...you were suffering for it.

He saw evidence of this when he was standing at the window of his study one day, taking a pause from his work, when he saw you in the rose garden wandering amongst the blooms.

The reports had not done your condition justice. Even from the window on the third floor he could see how thin you were, even with your belly swelling.

Beautiful, he couldn't help thinking as he watched you. Even in your current state, you were glowing. He tossed a look over his shoulder at his papers, a mountain of work he suddenly did not feel like doing. then in a split-second decision, he abandoned his study and headed down the stairs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Heading into the rose garden, he hesitated at the sight of you. You were bent slightly over a flower, lifting the rose to your nose. The corners of your lips turned up slightly as the fragrance hit you. Turning slightly, you caught sight of him, and straightened, your hand sliding over your belly immediately. "Coriolanus."

"Sweetheart," he greeted, stepping closer.

You looked a little puzzled. "Did you need something?"

He felt a little dazed, unsure really why he came out here. "No...I just..." Coriolanus was now less than a foot away from you. "I wanted to see how you were."

Your expression grew slightly more surprised, but you stayed graceful. "I see."

"Yes," he said, unable to stop looking at you.

Biting your lip, you looked to the side, fingers splayed out over your belly. "I'd have thought you'd gotten enough from your reports."

He blanked. "You know about those?"

"You aren't very discreet," you said, giving a tight smile. "Besides, I know you. You're nosy."

He sniffed a laugh at that. "It's hardly being nosy when it's concern for my wife."

Silence.

Your hand fell off your belly and you moved to examine another rose, a white one. "I didn't know you cared for my wellbeing."

He followed you, tracing your steps. "You're carrying my child, sweetheart."

"Not by either of our choice," you said softly. You reached over your belly to touch one of the rose petals on the outside of the flower. "It is an obligation."

"And yet here we are," he said, picking the rose. He snapped the stem, tucking it behind your ear, his hand sliding under your chin, lifting your eyes to his. "Making the best of our situation."

Your doe eyes as you looked up at him nearly melted his heart. Coriolanus wished he could paint a portrait of you as you were right now: belly round and full of his child, one of his family roses in your hair. You looked so utterly his.

"You haven't been well sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "Even if I wasn't getting reports-"

"I'm fine. As fine as I can be," you said quietly, trying to avoid his eyes. "Growing a child is taxing, believe it or not."

"This is different." Coriolanus took your hand, which hung limply in his. "I worry about you."

"There is no need for it." You walked over to a stone bench, sitting with both your hands beside you. Your dress fell over your belly in such a way that your knees were not visible. The little detail made you all the more endearing to him.

"Darling." Coriolanus sat beside you, taking your hand once again. "I know this is hardly ideal, but I need you to try."

"What on earth do you think I have been doing?" you asked, looking up at him.

"You're fading," he said simply.

Taking in a breath, you turned slightly to face him. "I'm doing the best I can. I'm pregnant, you'll have your boy. There is nothing more to ask of me."

"Part of that obligation is taking care of yourself," he said, looking you straight in the eye.

"Am I not doing enough?" you exhaled softly. "I don't know why you're so concerned. You've ignored me for the brunt of our marriage. You do not seem to feel any affection for me. I don't see why you should care."

"You know exactly why I care," he insisted, his tone growing frustrated. "I cannot watch you wither away into nothing."

He stood up, holding out his hand. "When is the last time you ate?"

You bit your lip, casting your eyes to the side as you thought. "This morning."

It was nearly the evening. "Come. Let's find something."

"Coriolanus," you said exasperatedly.

"Sweetheart," he said earnestly back, extending his hand further. Even though he wanted to stay distant, there was a protective urge festering inside him, one he couldn't ignore like he'd done in the past.

You pursed your lips for a moment, then seemed to decide something. Taking his hand, you carefully stood up and let him lead you back up to the house.

As he found you something to eat, he thought of his earlier promise to himself not to let himself fall for you. He knew deep down that you had the potential to entrance him, make him adore you. Despite his aversion to this trait of yours, he knew he couldn't keep you at arm's length any longer. Not when your health was on the line.

Perhaps he could resist but stay close.

Your pregnancy progressed with a few things to note.

The first being that your health improved greatly. You were kept under watch, and your weight became less concerning. You found yourself feeling better, a little less tired all the time.

The second notable thing was the sudden closeness of your husband.

Since the day in the rose garden, he had become warmer towards you, more open. He took meals with you every day, diligently making sure you'd eaten enough.

One evening he summoned you to his study, surprising you.

"Is something the matter?" You stood in front of his desk, slightly worried. You'd rushed up so quickly that you hadn't put your book down, your finger still marking your place.

"Will you sit with me?" he requested, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

You tilted your head, sitting down carefully, hand over your belly. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he said, nodding. "I just...wanted you to be close to me. Read your book."

Slowly, you nodded, leaning back in your chair. You opened your book and began to read, peering up to see that he'd begun writing again. Slightly confused but surprisingly pleased that he wanted you near, your eyes found the page again.

Shifting in your chair, you did your best to get comfortable, but it proved to be a difficult task. Your belly didn't exactly make things accommodating for you. Doing simple tasks with ease was becoming increasingly harder.

Apparently, this fact was noticeable to your husband as well. He set his pen down. "Darling?"

You looked up. "Hmm?"

Coriolanus patted his lap. "Come sit."

Tilting your head, your brow furrowed confusedly. "You want me to-?"

"You're uncomfortable," he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms open and ready for you. "Come."

Hesitantly you stood up, book in hand, and went around the desk to sit across his thighs. He secured an arm around you, a little over your belly and you leaned back against him comfortably. "Is this okay?"

"More than," he said, smiling just a little. "Stay here."

And with that, he went back to his papers, working with one hand and keeping you against him with the other. You returned to your reading, perfectly content against him.

This became a routine of sorts. You'd come shyly into his study; he'd hold out an arm for you and you'd sit on his thigh and read. You began to look forward to it, to this time you spent together. His touch was somehow comforting to you.

That was the third thing to note. How much you liked his closeness. The way he went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable, to make sure you weren't lonely.

That wasn't to say there weren't challenges.

At the first gala you attended with him since becoming pregnant, you knew it was going to be a trying affair. Coriolanus was attentive, whispering to you that he'd get you out as soon as possible.

Dressed in a white gown that accentuated your pregnancy, you knew pictures of you and Coriolanus would be splashed across every headline. Keeping that in mind, you did your best to be gracious, to smile and say the right things.

But, three hours into an event that would surely last all night, you found yourself becoming weary. You tugged at Coriolanus' arm, which you'd been glued to all night, but he didn't notice. He was speaking with a senator, engrossed in conversation.

His wife turned to you, starting to speak. "How have things been so far? With the baby?"

You smiled tightly, not upset with her, but tired. "Very well. It's been a wonderful experience."

"How lovely," she smiled, eyeing your figure. "It is a wonder to be sure. A great deal of people have thought you'd never give him a child."

You didn't quite know how to respond to that, so you merely smiled shyly.

"And you're certain it's a boy? We certainly don't need any more young girls around here," the woman laughed, oblivious to your discomfort.

"I suppose we'll see," you nodded, stifling a yawn with your hand and tugging at Coriolanus' arm again. He didn't respond.

"I suppose you aren't eating enough then," the woman noted, raising an eyebrow as she caught your yawn. "If you were you wouldn't be so tired. Or thin for that matter. I know when I was-"

"Darling," Coriolanus cut in, turning to you. "I believe it is time for us to leave." He nodded politely at the woman in front of you and escorted you out, one hand holding one of yours and the other on your back.

Once you were alone at home, you started to cry, a hand over your mouth as you let yourself break down. Your fatigue, the unsolicited advice, the comments on your appearance...it was all too much. You couldn't stand any of it.

It was just another reminder to you of how alone you were. You had no friends- the women of the Capitol were less than inviting, only speaking to you out of obligation and jealousy. And your husband...well, you weren't sure what to think of him at the moment.

Knowing you needed to move around to calm yourself down, you left your room, wandering down the hallway. You tried to keep your breathing even, a hand on your heart as you walked.

You stumbled upon the ballroom, opening the door and wandering inside. The vast emptiness of the large room made you feel small, and you marveled at the feeling. Sometimes being married to Coriolanus made everything feel more heightened. But being alone in this large room made everything feel smaller...less important. It was wonderful.

There was a piano in the corner of the room, and you meandered over to it, running your fingers along the keys. In your training as a socialite, you'd had several lessons in the instrument, but it had been a long time since you'd played.

You sat on the bench carefully, positioning your hands on the keys and beginning to play an old favorite. Muscle memory was your companion, and your fingers moved nimbly and easily. It was comforting to know that you still knew how to do it, that not everything in your past was easily forgotten.

When you looked up after you finished playing, Coriolanus was standing in the doorway. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, and he walked over to you. You turned slightly on the bench as he did.

Your husband knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his and bringing them to his lips. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, seeming to take you in. You were still in the same white dress you'd worn to the event. He squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry. I know tonight was hard."

Closing your eyes, you nodded, trying not to cry again. "I'm okay." Coriolanus was still looking up at you when you opened your eyes, and you gave him a small smile when you saw how sincere he was in his apology.

"Are you tired?" he asked softly, searching your eyes.

You shook your head. Somehow your fatigue had vanished somewhere in your walk through the halls.

"Okay." He nodded and stood up, helping you stand as well. "Will you come with me?"

It was a genuine question, and you nodded at it, somehow trusting him more in that moment than you ever had before.

He led you upstairs and up to a door you recognized as his room. You hesitated before going inside but ultimately decided to follow him. Coriolanus kicked off his shoes and sat you down on his bed, hands in yours. "Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine," you managed, looking down at your joined hands.

"Darling," he murmured.

"I just...it gets so lonely sometimes," you said softly, looking up at him.

"Oh, sweetheart," Coriolanus breathed, lifting your chin and searching your eyes. "I had no idea."

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. "It just gets to be too much sometimes."

His hand came to your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "Sweetheart." You opened your eyes. He brought his forehead to yours, the gesture surprisingly comforting. "I'm sorry. I never meant for you to feel this way."

"I feel like I'm all alone in this," you said quietly, rubbing a hand over your belly.

Coriolanus pulled you closer to him, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it. He kissed your temple. "I'm sorry darling. I know that's my fault."

"It's not. Not really," you murmured, leaning into him. "I know you didn't want this."

"That doesn't mean you should suffer for it," he kissed your forehead. Then Coriolanus took your face into his hands, and you leaned into his touch. "I want you to know how grateful I am for you."

You softened between his hands, looking up at him with doe eyes. "Grateful?"

"Grateful," he clarified, looking over you, your body and your belly. "Grateful because you have given yourself wholly to me. And you might say you didn't have a choice. But you did. And you chose to do this for me. Whatever the reason is, I am grateful for you."

You were stunned at this, your lips parting slightly. He saw you. He had seen you and he cared. A tiny smile made its way onto your face as you looked up at him. "That means a great deal."

"You deserve more than a great deal," he breathed, his hands sliding from your cheeks to your shoulders. "After everything...what you've given me..."

His voice was husky. "Nobody's ever done anything close to this much for me. You..."

"Coriolanus," you whispered, your lips ever so close to his. Months ago, you never would have allowed it, never would have gotten so close. But things were different now. The child growing inside you had changed everything.

"I'll never let you feel alone again," he breathed. "Never let you feel undervalued, unappreciated...nothing less than what you are."

"And what's that?" you asked.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "The beautiful mother of my child. A woman who is more than I deserve."

"Hardly," you looked up at him, feeling like you were seeing him for the first time. His expression was caring, his touch gentle. He seemed so different now than he was at the start of your marriage.

"Let me show you." Coriolanus muttered, hands coming back to yours, lifting them and kissing your fingers once more.

Your heart pounded, breath quickening, and you nodded. He set your hands down, moving his hand to the zip of your dress and pulling back slightly to look at you. You nodded and turned so he'd have easier access. He slid the zip down carefully and you helped him move the dress over your shoulders and down your body. It ended up as a pile of fabric beside his bed.

Gently, Coriolanus laid you back onto the bed, eyes roaming over you. He appeared entranced by you. Your skin was glowing, your body curvier, belly swollen. His lips parted. "Beautiful," he breathed, leaning down. Your lips were terribly close to his...

You took the final step and pressed your lips to his, capturing them in a kiss that started innocent but quickly became searing.

He pulled you in by the waist, pressing you against him. You knew from experience that Coriolanus' kisses were hungry, but tonight he must have been starving. The way his lips moved against yours was sinful, but you wanted it, wanted it bad.

Your hands moved of their own accord, tugging at his shirt buttons and discarding the garment once it was unbuttoned. His pants were the next to go, joining your dress and his shirt on the floor. When he kissed you, his hands wandered over your body, reaching for the clasp of your undergarment. His touch set you on fire.

When he'd gotten you completely bare and he was in the same state, he pulled back, not kissing you for a moment, just looking. You squirmed a little under his gaze, which was intense although caring. "What is it?" you questioned softly.

"Breathtaking." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You...carrying my child...you're very nearly a goddess."

That made the corners of your lips turn up sweetly, and you pulled him down for another kiss, his body hovering over you, careful not to put too much weight on your belly.

As you laid tangled in his sheets in the aftermath of it, your body was more wholly satisfied than it had been in a long time. You looked over at him, smiling softly and resting on your side. He reached out and rested his hand back on your cheek, stroking your soft skin. You felt a connection with him then, for the first time since your pregnancy began.

Coriolanus leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft and feather light. He moved on the bed, so he was facing you. The soft light combined with what you'd just done made him look a way that pulled at your heart.

His eyes never left yours. You recognized that look. He was making sure you were comfortable, that you felt safe. Usually, you only saw that look at public events but seeing it right now after something so intimate sent a flutter through you.

"Will you stay tonight?" he murmured, one hand in your hair.

"Yes," you breathed. He opened his arms and let you snuggle close. As you drifted off, you felt one of his hands wander to your belly, caressing it gently. It was the first time he'd really touched it your entire pregnancy.

For the first time, you began to think of the baby in your belly as yours too. A baby. Your hand ran over your bump, and you smiled softly. It was both of your child. As much yours as it was his.

And you didn't mind it one bit.

He had vowed not to fall for you.

He had spent countless hours convincing himself he hadn't.

But after the night of the gala, he couldn't deny it anymore.

Every time Coriolanus looked at you, whether it be at the breakfast table when the sunlight filtered through the windows and hit your face just right, or when he looked up from his work every night when you were on his lap to see your concentrated face as you read, he felt the tendrils of feeling close around his heart.

He found himself becoming more affectionate with you. He used your pet names in an abundance, and he always felt like he needed to be touching you. You were the bright point in his life.

The last months of your pregnancy were bliss. Vesta rarely called on him, so he was free to spend all he free time with you.

Walking in the gardens, reading side by side. He'd press a kiss to your temple now and then, keeping you close, making sure you were well.

He feared childbirth for you the closer you got to it. Thoughts of his own mother, and the stories he'd heard of swam through his head and he held you a little tighter because of it.

Now he insisted you sleep in the same room as him, wanting to keep an eye on you. Sometimes he'd wake in the middle of the night and just watch you sleep, making sure your breathing was steady, wanting to be around in case you needed anything. He was paranoid you'd go into labor while he was asleep.

And of course, when you finally did, he was.

You woke him in a panic, the bedsheets soaked, telling him in hurried tones that it was time, that the baby was coming. He leapt into action immediately, sending for the doctor. The two of you had fallen asleep in your bedroom tonight, and when he tried to move you, you whimpered and shook your head, a cramp rippling through your body.

The doctor arrived, and everything was a blur after that. He never left your side, even though the sight of you in pain made him feel faint.

Before the both of you knew it, the baby was out, and you were collapsing back into the pillows, your body exhausted. Coriolanus looked over to the doctor, who was holding his new baby...

Girl.

Coriolanus stood up, his heart racing. A girl. Vesta would be furious. He was just outside the door after all, expecting the news any moment now.

He went to stand by the window as the doctor handed you the baby, gathering his thoughts. What would he tell Vesta? More importantly, what was the man going to do? His blood started to boil as he thought of Vesta hurting you in any way for this.

Looking over at you with the baby girl in your arms, close to your chest, he was filled with a sense of wonder. You'd grown his child, pushed it out of your body, and he was supposed to be upset that it wasn't a boy?

The door burst open, and Vesta revealed himself, looking over the scene. You rushed to cover yourself, and Coriolanus moved to your side, making sure you had some privacy.

"For heaven's sake Vesta," he said protectively. "You couldn't have allowed us ten minutes?"

"Not when the bloodline is at stake, my boy," Vesta said, grinning. "So, your son?"

"Not a son," you spoke up, cradling the baby close to you. You smiled down at your daughter, who was fast asleep.

The man's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what she said, Vesta," Coriolanus said in quiet tones. "Not a son. A daughter."

Vesta's face grew cold. "This is unacceptable. A daughter isn't good for the family."

"And yet," Coriolanus folded his arms, still standing in front of you.

"She will have to be hidden away. We'll tell the public the baby was stillborn," Vesta moved forward, as if to take the child from you.

You shook your head, holding the baby tight to your chest. "No, no don't."

"To have a firstborn daughter isn't good for your image," Vesta reached out for the baby. "Your wife is clearly defective in some way. We'll have the child taken away. Given to another Capitol family."

"No," you cried out, looking fearfully up at Coriolanus. You looked so scared, and the surge of protectiveness that shot through him was amplified with what you said next. "Coriolanus, don't let him take her."

As Vesta moved toward you, Coriolanus stood in his path. "You won't be taking our daughter."

Vesta's face grew sterner still. "I beg your pardon?"

Coriolanus was unmoving. "A son will come eventually. But in the meantime, our daughter will be claimed as ours."

"Your image-" Vesta started.

"Will not be ruined by a child," he cut him off. Coriolanus took a step toward Vesta, his frame tall and intimidating. "Since I enlisted your help in my career, you have been rude, demanding, and disrespectful, especially toward my wife." He glanced back at you. Your eyes were wide as you held the baby.

"If I ever see you insult my wife again," Coriolanus started, his voice quiet but deadly. "Even if I hear of it, I will not hesitate to make you disappear. You see, since last year, my resources have grown exceptionally. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

Vesta was silent, looking shocked at his words.

"Now get out before I have you escorted," Coriolanus pointed at the door. "Out."

Vesta huffed, straightening his suit. "If your career collapses, you'll only have yourself to blame." He cast a dirty look at you. "Well, I suppose not only you."

And with that, the older man left.

Coriolanus stood there seething for a moment. He had half a mind to run to his study and call the right people to have Vesta taken out right now. But he controlled himself. Later, he thought.

For now, he turned to you, kneeling beside the bed and pushing sweaty strands out of your face. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

"You stood up for me," you said, smiling softly as you looked up at him. You looked down at the baby. "You didn't let him take her."

"How could I?" Coriolanus murmured, leaning in and nudging his nose with yours, which made you smile again. "How could I when I..." he swallowed. "When I love you too much to let that happen."

Your eyes widened a bit, your smile sweeter. "You love me?"

"I think I've loved you ever since I've known you," he said, the adrenaline from the interaction with Vesta seeming to give him courage. "And after this..." he reached down to the baby, stroking her soft little cheek with his finger. "I can't keep it in anymore."

You watched as he sat on the bed next to you, encircling you and the baby in his arms, pushing a kiss to your hair. He smiled, a real smile he always found himself wearing around you.

"I didn't think I'd be able to love you when I married you," you said quietly, looking up at him. "But somehow I do."

He lifted your chin, kissing you briefly. "You love me?" He'd repeated your words, which made you smile.

"I love you," you confirmed, looking into his eyes. You looked so tired, but happy. He'd never understood before how one could feel happy because of someone else's joy, but now he did.

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms tightly around you and the baby, around his little family.

The sun rose that morning, the dawn of a new day, but also a new life for him. He now truly had his wife and his daughter, both so loved.

And he was loved too.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #married to young president snow #coriolanus x you #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #Spotify

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the-woman-upstairs · 6 months

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Honestly, all my schadenfreude over the public evisceration of James Somerton by Hbomberguy and Todd in the Shadows is tempered by the anger I feel at how much damage, pain, misinformation, and marginalizing one man was capable of accomplishing through the platform he built through plagiarism, blatant lies, and outright bigotry.

And frankly it sucks that it took the efforts of two other popular YouTube creators to bring him down when Somerton was clearly never good at hiding any of his horrific behavior. There were clearly women and trans/non-binary people who knew something was up with him and his “work” but were either harassed/doxxed by the fans he set on them or knew they didn’t have the same kind of clout/support to be believed over him.

It just boggles my mind how EASY it would have been for him to cite these sources and work with other queer creators on the platform to help create a wealth of accessible, comprehensive knowledge of queer media and history available to a younger generation. Because clearly, there’s a hunger in the younger generations of queer kids/people for that knowledge, the understanding of the past, how it informs the present and creates the future. But all Somerton did was steal from other creators, ones who either didn’t know their work was stolen or were given the run-around by Somerton instead of proper accreditation.

Instead of uplifting other people and their research, he selfishly stole and hoarded it, before regurgitating it and claiming it was all his own while also infecting some excellent analysis with awful, bigoted opinions, particularly geared towards women, trans people, or any type of queer he didn’t believe was the “right kind.” You know, like all the “boring gays” that “survived” the AIDS crisis.

I want to believe that this time we’ll learn to not take people at face value, just because they give the appearance of professionalism and sound authoritative on whatever subject is covered. Because that’s how dangerous misinformation is spread and taken for fact. Todd was absolutely on the money when he pointed out how it is important to document all the lies and plagiarism with Somerton because how many young people believed what he was saying? How many people watched his videos on the adult film industry or “bad gays” or Nazis influence on body image and walked away thinking they were learning something about their history? Far too many, I’m sure.

Though at least having these two videos to refer to can help people learn when to spot someone who’s being disingenuous in “teaching people something.” And that any person who claims to be the “only person” talking about an issue is mostly likely lying and trying to sell you something. Usually, their own brand. It’s far better to diversify the people you follow and the voices you listen to, and the playlist Hbomberguy made available is a great place to start.

But I also recommend seeking out some of the original sources yourself. There’s typically queer history books/memoirs in the nonfiction section of your local library. You can find the original Celluloid Closet documentary on Tubi, along with another interesting one, Do I Sound Gay? Disclosure, the documentary on depictions of trans people in Hollywood, is available on Netflix. And that’s just a couple of the top of my head. If you’re looking for queer films in general, Wolfe Video has so many available for purchase or even just to peruse and rent the titles later.

I do hope some good comes out of all this, even if the damage done by Somerton still lingers in online queer spaces (fingers crossed this means the end of Illuminaughtii and Internet Historian as well). It helps to be wary of people seeking to take advantage of the online spaces we now inhabit, but there’s still people and places across the internet that are doing good work and want to help educate people. They may not always be easy to find and may even require some effort on the part of the audience, but the end result of really learning something, discovering interesting research/work, or being part of open minded discussions is a worthwhile reward. And always something to be proud of.

#ok this is a lot but i had to get all this off my chest #hbomberguy #james somerton #todd in the shadows #i really hope this news doesn’t discourage young people who were taken in by that asshole #he’s not the only queer person doing this work- there’s so many of us out there having discussions and sharing ideas #without being virulently misogynistic and transphobic and racist #i really hope people seek out the creators on that playlist and find someone new to follow who’s putting in the work

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 2 years

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Endevoris flashback of Touya perfectly shows just how unreliable Endevor is as a narrator only focusing on the rose colored memories ignoring the harm he created

I apologize for the long post, but this is one of my favorite topics in the manga and I have so much to say about it. Thank you for sending this asks!!

⠀

Horikoshi did something clever with the whole Dabi backstory. It's not been animated yet, but there's a part where Touya's past is told by all the Todorokis and there you can see better how all of them are unreliable narrators.

Horikoshi shows you as much.

Enji's point of view is rather ignorant of Touya's real suffering. He didn't understand back then why Touya wouldn't stop or why he was so upset. He didn't take the time to find out either. He just focused back on his career and discarded Touya as another child for Rei to take care of.

Touya's crime was... Being a kid. That's it. Enji was the one who basically showed Touya that their bonding time as father and son was their training. When Enji abandoned that, Touya still wanted a bond with his dad and couldn't accept the fact he was no longer worthy or important to his father. What Enji could see as "my child is being difficult on purpose" was indeed the manifestation of a very common trait for a kid: I want attention.

⠀

Enji and Touya had good memories. Those only made the whole thing worst tho. Touya now knew how his father attention felt like and he could identify when Enji was not really into it. That means Enji couldn't lie to Touya anymore, not like he was lying to himself. Touya was so clever of a kid that he even picked on the problem of his parents marriage and didn't doubt on pointing it out to Rei. Of course she is a victim, but for little Touya she is also the woman that's suppose to protect him and by agreeing to follow Enji's plan, Touya mind thought she was to blamed for a different sin.

What Horikoshi shows us through Enji's post is deadly important because that's how you learn that Enji still doesn't know his kid. Not Dabi, not the person he is now. Enji doesn't know the Touya of his memories, he still doesn't know why the accident in Sekoto Peak happened, why and how he failed Touya.

To make it simpler: Enji saw Touya die and instead of it being a sign of how he was doing something wrong, he became worst with Shoto and Rei, he became even more abusive, and he kept on his abuse to Shoto to the point Deku himself called him out for it. The way he trained Shoto means that he never thought he was doing something wrong, but rather that he was training the wrong child.

⠀

Now, this is all very evident in the manga, but you need to read the information the author gave you, connect the points and understand what is said beyond the explicit. This is even more important in the manga, where the panels are reduce and you have to condense your story in meaningful poses and speech bubbles and have to convey emotion and intention thoroughly with visuals.

What every Todoroki remembers is distorted. Yes, even Dabi's memories. Their feelings shape their memories and what we're really seeing is how they felt back then, as well as how they feel right now.

So yeah, you're totally right and I hope every one is ready understands why.

#Shan's asks #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #Enji todoroki #Endeavor #Dabi #Touya Todoroki #Toya todoroki #Todofam #Todorokis #Bnha spoilers #Mha spoilers #Bnha s6 #Bnha season 6

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melbatron5000 · 2 months

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The confines of a story

Any time you play a game, you need to know the rules. A puzzle has a border, you can't smash the pieces into a spot they don't fit with a hammer (I mean, you can, but it won't look right when you're done), etc.

My mental assumptions are that we are following the rules of stories as told in both novel form and video form. I'm not going to list ALL the rules associated with storytelling in both forms, because whole books and classes have been written about them and the parameters are way too big.

How do I know these rules? Well, I write novels, too. I'm not Neil Gaiman, (and I'm not going to go so far as to say I'm anywhere near his level, looking at you, Magic Trick OP), but the people who've read my books say they like them, so I think I do okay? I never went to school for any of it, but the library was and is my best friend, and I've read as many books and taken as many workshops as I can on this topic. Am I an expert? Nah. I know some stuff. There's always more to know.

So anyhow, some rules:

Rule one: the story has to be generally satisfying and not make people feel betrayed or angry. Hurt is fine, angry at the characters is fine, tricked is fine, but the reader can't feel betrayed or totally let down by the author at the end of the story. It's impossible to avoid this entirely, but most people in general have to agree that the story isn't a betrayal of the reader. The author needs to keep faith with their reader as best they can.

Rule two: in mysteries, all the cards need to be on the table at some point. Misdirection or downplaying of important information or use of double-meaning words are totally fair tactics, but the answer has to be there to be sussed out by a clever observer. (I got really mad when I tried to read murder mysteries for a little while. I figured this rule out very quickly on my own, and I could always spot the killer by the end of the second chapter. I gave up on murder mysteries. HOWEVER, another author I admire wrote a classic murder mystery-style book, and when I spotted the killer in chapter two like always, she had arranged matters so that the killer's motive was shrouded in deep mystery. I burned through that book to find out WHY he dunnit, and when the main character helped the killer escape at the end, I was troubled but satisfied.) But mah point is, all the pieces to the puzzle need to come in the box.

Rule three: (which isn't really a rule so much as an observation and something I myself struggle with), writing fiction can be very hard because people are naturally not good at knowing that other people do not know what they know. You know? Psychological studies have shown that when a person knows something, like where an object is, they develop this sort of assumption that the object's location is OBVIOUS, or that other people also know where the object is or can easily guess it, no matter how hard a time they had guessing it themselves before they were told. So not only do newer writers sometimes struggle to maintain what various characters do and don't know at different times in a story, readers can also struggle with the same thing. Gotta keep your eyes peeled for what information each character actually has, and also keep in mind how easy it is to be fooled when you think you have all the facts. I notice Neil and John taking advantage of this in Good Omens a lot -- the lies that Crowley and Aziraphale tell to the other angels and demons seem really obvious -- but that's because we know they are lying and what they're lying about. When we are lied to, we fall for it as easily as those angels and demons, because we assume we know what's going on. Watch out!

Rule four: you can't break the rules. If you're going to make a wild, avant garde, ground-breaking story, that's pretty much the whole point of the entire story. Twists are fine, emphasizing or de-emphasizing expected tropes or ideas is fine, subverting a trope is fine. Otherwise, you have to stick to ideas, formats, plots, structures, etc., that have come before. For example, just as I started seeing metas about the POV characters in Good Omens 2 jumping around, I had remembered an episode of the X-Files from way back where an "alien landing" is told from three characters' perspectives. When told from the POV of the alien conspiracy-believing kid, the story gets really weird with all kinds of wild things happening. When told from doubting Scully's perspective, it gets very boring and mundane. POV jumping is nothing ground-breakingly new. There won't be anything ground-breakingly new.

Rule five: it has to make sense. Mark Twain once said, "Of course truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense." Once upon a time, a friend of mine who liked to embellish stories told me all about his new fiancee, who he'd met and proposed to all in a few months, who was head over heels for him, a gorgeous red-head, one of triplets. I never met this mystery woman, and then one day he called me to tell me she had died very suddenly and dramatically. I had my suspicions that she wasn't even real in the first place, so I made consoling noises and asked him when and where the funeral was so I could be there for him. I expected to be put off, told some crazy reason why there wouldn't be a funeral or it hadn't been planned yet and I would somehow mysteriously not hear about it until it was over. Instead, he gave me a date and location immediately. I was taken aback. I was even more taken aback when I arrived at the funeral to meet this woman's family, including the remaining red-headed pair from her triplet set, and hear all about what a whirlwind romance she'd had with my friend. If that had been a novel, I would have shut the book and told the author to give me a break. Books and TV and movies and plays can't push the consumers' credulity too much. Readers have to maintain their willingness to suspend their disbelief. It can't get too crazy. What's too crazy? Hard to say, it's kind a of a "I'll know it if I see it" sort of thing. And some people are certainly more willing to go along with something wild than others. The author can only try their best to maintain faith. To tell a story that can be believed.

Anyhow, I dunno if that's helpful at all, but it's sort of the litmus test I'm using to gage all my questions and theories. And what I'm using to shuffle in the metas and theories I like from others.

#long explanation #this is how my brain works for any who are curious #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fan theory #searching out the ineffable mystery #the rules of the game

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woooyeahbaby · 9 months

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Can’t Forget Mammon!

warnings: mammon being jealous, mc is gender neutral (meaning i didn’t even use any pronouns for mc here i write in 2nd person), mammon may be out of character i’m so sorry, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OBEY ME I’M ACTUALLY REALLY SCARED TO POST THIS HELP, mention of mc kissing asmo

a/n i think i’ll cry if i receive any negative feedback on this one guys you need to think of me as someone who is constantly on the verge of tears. also i wrote this at 5am with no sleep but i don’t think i made any errors! this is pretty short btw

you helped lucifer organize some documents this morning, no big deal. you played games with leviathan later, again, nothing important. read a book with satan, that took quite a while… went shopping with asmodeus after, okay… had lunch with beelzebub, didn’t take too long. and finally, cuddled with belphegor for a while.

where was mammon’s time with you?

don’t think mammon didn’t notice that you spent all day with his brothers instead of him! he couldn’t stop thinking about it. just as he thought he’d get a little attention from you, you’d be heading for another person.

so of course he had to have a conversation with you before you went to bed that night. he caught you in the kitchen, having a quick snack before bed. perfect.

“hey, mc! haven’t seen ya much today!” mammon grins, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“oh, hey mammon. sorry i didn’t get to hang out with you today, maybe tomorrow, alright?” you offer before walking away, letting his hand fall from your shoulder.

umm, no.

“hey now!” he nearly shouts. “get back here. i deserve my time with ya!”

“mammon, i’m tired. i wanna go to bed.” you sigh, walking back towards him. you take his hand. “i promise we can do something tomorrow.”

“i’ll just go to bed with ya!” mammon squeezes your hand.

“that might give the others the wrong idea…” you laugh softly after your sentence.

“i don’t care! they can think aaaall they want about it, all i wanna do is cuddle with ya, hm? how’s that sound? good? let’s go then!” he doesn’t even give you time to respond before he’s dragging you to your room.

you decide not to fight him on it, since you weren’t really opposed to the thought of cuddling him to sleep. plus, it’d save you from an even clingier mammon the next day.

you two reach your bedroom and mammon plops down on your bed, his grip on your hand sending you down with him. fortunately, you don’t land roughly. in fact, you land perfectly on your bed. you could sleep like this already. oh, right.

“mammon, i need to brush my teeth. just sit here for a couple minutes, okay?” you inform him as you stand up, and he lets your hand escape his. however you don’t expect him to follow you into your bathroom. “mammon.”

“mhm?” he hums as if he has no idea what he’s doing. typical mammon.

“you absolutely need to watch me brush my teeth?” despite your sarcasm, you’re already getting your toothbrush ready.

“you’d let lucifer watch ya, why can’t i?” he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

“..can we talk about this when i’m done, please?” you ask, not giving him time to say no before you’re shoving your toothbrush in your mouth.

mammon mumbles a ‘fine’, standing behind you as you brush your teeth. as he waits for a torturous two whole minutes, he mainly just fidgets with his hands and glances up at you. once you’re done, he’s walking to your bed, lying down on his back and patting the empty space next to him.

you face him when you lie down, and he just stares at you expectantly. it takes you a second to remember.

“oh, right. mammon, you know i didn’t mean to ignore you today. everyone else just kept me so busy.” you reach out a hand to caress his face lovingly.

“it coulda been me keepin’ ya busy, but nooo…” mammon rolls his eyes, leaning into your touch despite his rude attitude.

“remember that i can kick you out of here any time i’d like.” you threaten him jokingly. “i swear, mammon. i wanted to get to you but everybody just.. got in my way. i can dedicate my whole day to you tomorrow, i’ll even start it now.”

“i accept. you so much as even text someone that ain’t me though, i’ll be lockin’ ya in my room!” he replies with his own threat.

“okay. tomorrow is aaaall you, mammon.” you just smile at him and give him a kiss on the cheek, your hand moving to his hair.

he seems to enjoy it, letting you play with his hair as he just stares at you lovingly. then his facial expression changes back to the ‘i want to look angry at you, but i’m really not’ one. oh man.

“so asmo gets a kiss on the lips, but i—”

“oh, shut up, mammon.” you roll your eyes, kissing him on the lips to shut him up.

it definitely works! how could he complain?

mammon reaches a hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. he doesn’t want to let you go, not even for a second. every time he feels you trying to pull away, he just chases after your lips with his own. this is usually how kissing mammon is, he is the avatar of greed after all.

it’s only until both of you can barely breathe that he pulls away, his grip on your waist tightening. you both just look at each other for a few seconds, until you both burst out laughing. as you laugh, you lean your head into mammon’s chest, and once his own laughter dies down he rests his chin atop your head.

mammon sighs softly, pulling your head back so you could look at each other. you see him admiring your facial features before he speaks.

“can you turn around? we can spoon, just like ya did with belphie… when it should’ve been me, but whatever.” the last part of his sentence is quieter, more of a mumble.

in response, you just scoff and turn around so you and mammon are facing the same way. he wraps his arm around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath tickles you at first, until you get used to it. your back is pressed tightly against his chest, so much so that you can feel his heartbeat.

he gently kisses your neck a few times, but not like the seductive ones you usually get from him. these have plenty of love behind them. it’s so comforting.

“all me tomorrow, yeah?”

quick after fic note! if you like my writing i take requests!!! please send me requests

#mammon fluff #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me #obey me fanfic

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ilikekidsshows · 10 months

Note

Why do you think abuse apologia is so rampant in the ML fandom? I’m asking because kind of in awe at this anon I just got who all but told me to kms because I said that Maribug gaslighting Adricat about his father is messed up

It's a combination of a couple of things. The Marinette Stans here on tumblr are enthusiastic to say the least. At its most harmless, they'll go on tangents about how Marinette is secretly jacked and musclar and strong enough to beat Miraculous users without Miraculous powers. At its most toxic, they harrass people for saying anything that could be construed as negative about Marinette, including "Man, this fictional character sure is in need of character development!"

After the retooling for seasons 4 and 5, this kind of thing got worse, because now the show is actually agreeing with the more toxic Marinette Stans. Characters are taking back things they said a season and a half ago to make Marinette seem retroactively in the right for bullying the new girl in school and creating her own villain. Marinette is no longer seen as being capable of being morally wrong by the narrative; she's no longer presented as being overly controlling, judgemental and self-righteous. Instead, the narrative insists she's in the right about everything. The only times she's "wrong" it's because she's factually wrong: she lacks important information, meaning the mistakes the story admits to her making aren't actually her fault, but the fault of faulty information. The show has protagonist centered morality, because the show's protagonist is never presented as being in the wrong anymore. Everything Marinette does is morally justified because she's the protagonist.

The problem with this comes from the fact that Marinette still acts the same way she used to. She still acts overly controlling, judgemental and self-righteous. She grants a Miraculous permanently to another holder without letting Cat Noir know. She tricks Cat Noir into revealing his secret identity. She complains about how hard she has it while not taking advantage of the help Cat Noir is constantly offering to her because she thinks she knows better than anyone else so he could possibly not be able to help her. She doesn't tell her boyfriend he's under the very real risk of getting his free will hijacked if anyone palmed these two specific rings. She doesn't tell her boyfriend anyone could kill him with a snap of their fingers with the Peacock Miraculous and that she's letting his awful cousin hang onto this power because he knows her secret identity but she's still not telling him or her oldest superhero partner. And, yes, she's gaslighting Adrien into thinking his dad was a good person through and through.

And yet, despite all this stuff the writers have Marinette do that make it sound like she's on her freaking villain arc, the writers insist Marinette is morally right about all of this. She only makes surface level apologies for her lying and secret-keeping, only to keep doing it. Her apologies mean as little as Félix: they mean nothing. She never even considers whether or not what she's been doing is a good idea, because, as far as the writers are concerned, it's a great idea.

This fandom is full of abuse apologia because the fandom is used to making excuses for characters who treat Adrien poorly, but also because the show's writing requires you to either accept and excuse abuse, or disagree with the fundamental core of the show: that Marinette is always right.

#ml salt #ml writers salt #ml critical #ml writers critical

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ominous-auburn-orbs · 6 months

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I can't personally give you 27 requests...ok well I could but let's stick with one from me now lol

I admit, I fell in love with your human AU, and I think like, a first Christmas (or whatever holiday you'd prefer) in the real world together would be cute!

Maybe Caine or Kinger proposes on Christmas Eve as a gift? Listen I just want some fluff-

merry krimas :D

This is so long and unnecessarily fleshed out-

The troop had been out of the circus long enough that Christmas had come around. It had been a long time since any of them had celebrated it, as since time only passed in the same day-and-night cycle on repeat in the circus, the 25th of December never really happened. They all still remembered it well, though.

Except, of course, for Caine. He had done research during his time in the game, as some of the performers had brought it up, but now that he couldn't do that as easily as he used to, the former ringmaster was lacking in knowledge about this holiday.

Over the last week, the other's had tried their best to inform Caine as much as they could. However, they did have to keep Jax from lying to him, and it did take a while to reassure Caine that Santa was not, in fact, a demon that feasted on the souls of misbehaving children every Christmas Eve night. Nor was it customary to light the Christmas tree on fire in a beautiful spectacle to worship the spirits of pure jolly. Kinger thought that to just be another good reason to keep Caine away from the lighter in the kitchen.

It was Christmas Eve now, and they were all in Kinger and Caine's apartment, deciding to set everything up there for the next day so they wouldn't all have to buy their own trees and things. It felt natural to be together anyway, especially for big events like this. They had left decorating until that day so they could more easily all do it together, as well as limiting suspense. If there weren't any decorations in their own homes for long, then they were all less likely to become too overcome with excitement and nostalgia after so long without these types of celebrations.

Gangle and Zooble were adorning the tree with ornaments and tinsel, which they had bought the other day. Admittedly, Gangle had grabbed far more than what they needed, but Zooble was determined to make it all fit on the tree somehow so she would be happy.

Pomni and Ragatha were in the kitchen, preparing food for the feast they would be having the next day. Pomni was a complete failure with cooking, but she was more than happy to fetch ingredients, read out the recipe and decorate when needed. Despite doing most of the work, Ragatha was still happy doing it with Pomni.

Jax was sorting out the other decorations around the apartment, finding joy in making it look as obnoxious as possible. Kinger had already walked face-first into the tinsel hanging from one of the doorways, so Jax gathered that his mission was going to be a success. The only problem for him was keeping the dangling lights from tangling up with his own hair rather than Ragatha's. At least they were off, so no fires had started. Yet.

While he was using this amount of freedom to his advantage, he had been given one instruction from Kinger: do not touch the mistletoe. Since Caine wasn't aware of that tradition, he wouldn't be asking any questions, and everyone else could already gather what Kinger was planning. Jax honestly couldn't care less about the mistletoe anyway, so he had no complaints to make.

Caine and Kinger were wandering the apartment, looking at what the others were doing while Kinger explained the traditions of Christmas day in more detail. Both were nervous, but hid it rather well. Caine did, at least, but thankfully he was too absorbed with Kinger's words to notice his darting eyes. The tall man had planned some very important things for Caine, whilst Caine himself had made something special for them all. He had been taking time alone in his room, and although Kinger had some questions, it was the perfect opportunity for him to go out and examine certain jewellery stores.

"Oh, we also watch Christmas movies, which are usually pretty good. Although it is safer to just stick to the classics, heh." Kinger paused, taking in Caine's widened eyes and expression of pure joy. He felt his cheeks get warm at the sight before he remembered his train of thought. "Christmas Carol seems like a good place to start. I think you'd like the Muppet version most, considering how much you like musicals."

"I do enjoy the sound of that!" The former ringmaster's giddy smile as he looked at the surrounding decorations near took Kinger's breath away. It was yet another beautiful reminder that Caine was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, digital or not. "Oh, Kinger, I'm so happy to be sharing this with all of you. I was trying to keep you all happy, but I could just never wrap my head around all of your traditions. It feels rather nice to be introduced to something new from your world now."

He holds Kinger's hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Kinger couldn't keep the smile off of his face, not when Caine was looking at him like that.

"I'm just happy I can celebrate this holiday with someone like you." Kinger leaned down to kiss Caine's cheek.

"T-thank you, my love. That's- that's very kind of you." Kinger laughed, kissing him again. He loved how easily Caine still got flustered by compliments.

Ragatha's voice calling from the kitchen pulled the two from their moment. "Hey guys! We've finished with the food!"

The troop flocked to the kitchen, inspecting the fruits of Pomni and Ragatha's labour. They were all rather impressed, with Caine's gushing and Gangle's overflowing praise bringing a bright smile to Ragatha's face.

"This looks perfect. You two have really outdone yourselves!" Kinger gave Pomni a look of pride, knowing how scared she had been of messing something up. She returned his gaze with a small and determined nod.

"W-well, it did still take multiple hours, and there's some stuff that needs to set overnight, but it is done for the most part. We used your materials anyway, so, y'know, it wasn't done completely independently." Just as she finished speaking, Pomni and Ragatha were wrapped up in Caine's arms. He moved back and looked like he wanted to say something, but the right words just wouldn't come to mind, so instead he simply laughed and hugged them again.

Zooble coughed quietly to get their attention. "So, if you guys are done here, Gangle and I have just finished up with the tree. If you don't need anything else, we'll be going back to our apartment."

"Oh, of course. It's getting pretty late, so you should all head back and sleep. We'll see you tomorrow, though!" Kinger told them. After a few minutes, everyone had left, leaving the pair alone.

As they got ready for bed, Kinger couldn't help but compare Caine to an excited child, the way he rambled about what tomorrow might entail. A kiss on the lips was enough to calm him down, though, and the two finally went to sleep.

On Christmas day, they were all once again gathered in Kinger and Caine's apartment, this time having brought gifts with them. Near the end of it, Caine stood and said that he had made something special for each of them. The troop shared mildly confused looks with each other after he left, but turned to him with wide eyes when he returned with handmade plushies of all of their circus models.

"I would've wrapped them, but they don't really have the right shape for it. I-I hope you all don't mind them, I know your time in the circus wasn't as pleasant as it could've been, but it was still when I met all of you, and it's some of the happiest memories of my life. So, I wanted to make something to, uh, so you can remember it too, even if it's not-" he was cut off by Pomni running to him and giving him a hug. She moved back after a short while, taking her plushie from his hands.

"Thank you, Caine." The other plushies were passed around to their respective people, all of them being held with gentle care as if they would shatter like glass at any second. Reaching into his pocket, Caine revealed he had made one of himself as well.

After a moment, Kinger grabbed his hand and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Caine. There is something I wanted to give you."

Caine nodded, letting himself be led a few metres away. Above where they now stood hung a mistletoe.

"Ohhhh, so that is what he wanted it for." Jax was quickly shushed by Ragatha, who didn't want this moment to be disturbed.

"There's, uh, another tradition i didn't tell you about." Kinger pointed upwards. "That's mistletoe. You're supposed to hang it up, and when you walk under it with someone, you're supposed to do this."

Before Caine could ask, Kinger grabbed his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. They eventually separated, and Kinger reached into his back pocket, his fingers wrapping around the small black box inside. He cut off the former ringmaster's nonsensical rambling, somewhat surprised by how nervous he still was.

"I figured it was something appropriate to show you before I give you your gift." Pulling out the small box, Kinger lowered to one knee. He took another deep breath, ready to recite the love-filled speech he had run through his head so many times.

However, when he opened his eyes, he was struck speechless by Caine's expression. He looked confused, with his head tilted to the side, looking down at Kinger. He didn't know how proposals worked, so he didn't realise that that's what Kinger was doing.

"Caine, I... God, I don't even know..." Kinger laughed, only making Caine's confusion grow. "I had so much I wanted to tell you right now, but I just can't remember anymore. I swear, I had a whole speech planned and everything..."

His voice trailed off as he continued to chuckle, and Caine still had no idea what was going on. "My dear, what are you talking about? I don't need some big speech. Now, are you going to tell me what's in that box?"

Kinger nodded and pulled back the lid, revealing a shining ring, causing Caine to gasp as everything clicked. He would admit, he had done some research on marriage after getting in a relationship with Kinger, but he had never known when the right time to bring it up would be. It seemed like Kinger had decided for him.

"Caine. I love you. I love you, so much, and I want to be with you forever." He held the ring further outwards towards Caine. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh my... Yes, Kinger, of course!" He swept the man into his arms, holding onto him tightly. The two kissed again, only stopping when they heard Gangle cheering, causing them to remember that they weren't the only people in the room. "But, uh, how about we discuss this a bit later?"

Kinger agreed, but still slid the ring onto Caine's finger. The troop then gathered around the table and ate the food Pomni and Ragatha had prepared the day before, chatting happily amongst themselves. Kinger's eyes scanned the faces of his dear friends, before landing on his loving boyfriend and now fiancé.

He had spent so much time in the circus, he had forgotten what it felt like to be calm and content. To be surrounded by loved ones that he wasn't petrified of losing at any second. What it had felt like to simply breathe, and be happy. His vision became blurry, and he quickly looked down at his food so it wouldn't be noticed. However, Caine had seen.

"My dearest?" He put a hand on Kinger's arm. "Is everything alright?"

Kinger wiped his eyes and cupped Caine's face with his hand. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything's perfect."

#I did not re-read this so it could be god awful for all I know #but boy are these some gay little words #caine x kinger #royalteeth #kingleader #kinger x caine #implied gangle x zooble and ragatha x pomni #but not enough for me to fully tag it

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kkolg · 1 year

Text

Basic Rundown of my BATIM au

Ok so I’ve only been here for a little so I thought I’d give my basics for my lil au I made. Please keep in mind I’m still sorta working on it so it might change- also I’m not the best writer so sorry if this sorta sucks lol. Also also- IK LIL BENDY ISNT HENRY BUT HERE HE IS, THIS WAS MADE BEFORE BATDR AND HIS APPEARANCE IS PRETTY IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT SO DONT COME FOR ME PLEASE IM SORRYYYY-

NO THIS IS NOT A FUCKING MAFIA AU SHUT UP

Tags: vigilante batim au - well- you could guess it’s for the au

vigilante au comic - important/lore comics that are decently drawn

vigilante au comic # - that REALLY important stuff/in order of timeline/main story

batim au lore - I think I’m the only person who uses this so this will be for usually written lore stuff about the au and sometimes drawn stuff, depending usually

Setting

So this au takes place in the early to mid 1920s somewhere around Brooklyn, New York I think, not sure when and where exactly yet- It’s been 6 years since some past events, (which I’ll write about later) and this is also when the Prohibition Era started, so speakeasy’s and small bootlegging joints are starting to pick up.

Characters and other stuff

In this au Bendy is one of the top bootleggers for “The Vigilante” speakeasy, a pretty successful and popular speakeasy at that, located on the edge of a forest and under the ownership of Mr. Allen. Bendy’s best friend and main partner is Alice (just because why not) and usually go together when doing pickups, robberies, etc… Their getaway driver, William Click, is also good buddies with the both of them and is the one who takes the booze back to “The Vigilante”. William is also the bartender at “The Vigilante”. There are other partners that Bendy and Alice work with but it’s usually for bigger jobs. Phill or Philip is the “Vigilante’s” personal nurse, he lives over in the forest in a decent sized house and that is where anyone seriously injured is sent over. He’s very reserved so he’s usually not in the speakeasy. Margret is Mr. Allen’s personal assistant and maid, she’s very kind and loves company and reading.

There’s a rival speakeasy called “The Chokeberry” whom’s run by Betty Francis. The two speakeasies are equally popular, but they don’t usually ever cross paths.

Now to the good guys ig, Detective Stein (yes he’s a private detective here) with fake first name Martin, his two partners Tom “Boris”, and Allison usually are the accompany him to crime scenes and other things of the sort. He’s not usually supposed to be let in since he’s a private detective- but he’s been able to work his way around that a few times. Detective Stein is pretty well known in the area as a very kind man and extraordinary when it comes to solving cases. Tom is the brute force of the trio while Allison is usually the gunner.

Detective May is a detective in the local police department and usually rivals Stein when solving any case. She usually gets very upset whenever she see’s Stein at a crime scene. Linda Howell is her personal assistant (yep she’s here too), she usually files the paperwork that May doesn’t want to handle, although she does wish to be on the scene investigating instead of lying around in an office.

Det. Stein and Linda also work together in secret to get more information on the “Ink Demon” case specifically because the both of them take quite an interest to it. The reason it’s secret is because if May found out she would definitely not be happy-

That’s basically it, again expect changes and little edits here and there because i might change or add smth to the story later :)

Edit: If you wanna see the characters and character profiles just go to my account and some will be there! I’m still doing them so it might be a little while but thx anyway :D

Another thing to note is that Bendy doesn’t know Det. Stein is Henry since he’s a cartoon now and yk changed his name

——————————————————————————————————— I love dubs btw! Just credit and link me to it cause I’d love to hear it! This applies to all comics I make for any fandom :)

OTHER LINKS TO FIND ME: YouTube, BlueSky, Insta

#batim au #idk what else to put #this took too long #vigilante batim au #batim au lore #batim #1920s

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coffin-contemplator · 2 months

Text

❝one of coffee, debit cards & corpses❞

Summary:

“‘Is this my debit card?’ Strahm questions suddenly, his voice strained with something Erickson can’t really place.

As soon as the quarry hits the air, Hoffman’s expression shifts from casual to teasing and borderline innocent.”

It doesn’t take an investigator to be able to guess that Agent Strahm is not a patient person. And so, standing in the middle of a gruesome crime scene, he quickly realises he’s running low on the supply of fucks being given. The man paces, clearly exasperated. Meanwhile, his superior seems completely oblivious to the storm that’s silently brewing within the younger man.

“Perez?” he asks, still hoping for some form of salvation.

“Family emergency,” Erickson replies briefly, knowing exactly what Strahm’s trying to achieve. “Look at it this way—do you actually have anything better to be doing?

The younger agent growls under his breath but doesn’t answer. They both know what the response to that is; Federal Bureau of Investigation, the big shots in finding, solving and judging business my ass. What’s the point of hiring this many people, anyway, if half of them spend one hundred per cent of their working hours still trying to solve letters from Zodiac, while the rest keeps getting called to regular homicides whenever the local PD appears short-staffed?

Concerningly, he isn’t sure whether he’s glad or disappointed that Jigsaw is not involved this time.

Strahm huffs and is about to share some of his complaints with his superior (a decision that—career-wise—would probably come back to bite him in the ass) but as his mouth falls open, a sergeant appears by his side out of nowhere.

“Sorry for the wait.” The guy can’t be more than in his late twenties. And he clearly hasn’t been working in this industry for long, considering the disturbed glances he can’t help but throw in the direction of a corpse lying just a few feet away from them. “The lead detective is on his way. He should be arriving any minute now.”

Erickson thanks the sergeant for the information. The young one appears relieved being able to go back outside and spend the rest of his workday without the unnecessary company of dead people.

“They sure like to keep us hanging around,” Strahm grumbles, making yet another loop while walking. I mean, hey, it’s not like he’s stomping over any important evidence—the forensics had finished here a good while ago and would have already left a good while ago if it wasn’t for the requirement to confirm that the body may be taken to the coroner’s now.

The older agent bestows his companion with an unimpressed glance. “You know, recently I read this interesting article on attention deficit and hyperactivity—”

“Don’t.”

Erickson watches him pace a bit more. “No, but seriously, maybe you actually should—”

“One more word and I’m sending in a resignation letter.”

The older agent raises his hands in a mock surrender. Just then, his attention suddenly switches to the figure behind Strahm, approaching rather quickly. He smiles, recognising the newcomer.

“Good morning, Detective Hoffman,” he greets, as he watches the younger man balance a tray with three cups of coffee in his left hand, only to extend the right one for the agent to shake.

“Special Agent Erickson,” Hoffman nods at him. “Nice to see you again.” There’s a polite smile playing on his lips too. He looks around, merely acknowledging Strahm who’s currently preoccupied with staring daggers at him. “No Perez today?” he asks casually.

Erickson shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

The man pauses briefly to thank the younger as the latter hands him the coffee. He takes a grateful sip, as he observes Hoffman repeat the action towards Strahm as well. He could’ve sworn there’s another object being dropped into his subordinate’s palms.

“Her girlfriend fell ill. It’s pretty serious so I let Agent Perez have a few days off to take care of her.”

“Good call,” the detective comments shortly.

Erickson’s finally about to divert his attention to the matter at hand; the crime scene that apparently has turned into a spot of police social gatherings in the span of the few past hours. But the intention dies before it can even really be born.

Strahm, who’s been mostly quiet ever since the lead detective showed up, continues to stare at his hands, right where the objects have been planted by Hoffman only mere minutes ago. The older agent finally notices the small thing that’s previously stolen his focus.

“Is this my debit card?” Strahm questions suddenly, his voice strained with something Erickson can’t really place.

As soon as the quarry hits the air, Hoffman’s expression shifts from casual to teasing and borderline innocent.

“I didn’t want to wake you and it was lying out in the open,” the detective argues, smirking.

The next thing that reaches Erickson’s ears is strong insults and curses, ones that even as a middle-aged married man he would prefer not to repeat (he definitely hears something about bastards, sadists and thieves). He tunes them out pretty quickly, however, as a sudden realisation dawns on him. All these fights he’s witnessed and the lingering tension between these two… It couldn’t be, could it?

Ah, why not risk it?

He turns back to them, interrupting just as Strahm is about to throw something arguably heavy in Hoffman’s direction.

“Are you two—” He points at one of them, then the other, trying hard to make sense of whatever’s happening and completely forgetting that they’re all at work, needing to establish facts on the homicide they’ve been called to deal with. “I mean, are you—”

“With all due respect, sir,” Strahm hisses, effectively cutting him off and putting an end to his superior's sprinting thoughts. “Just shut it.”

Note: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this work, please consider leaving some love on my AO3 account!

I'm on Ko-fi, too!

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aroaceacacia · 1 year

Note

HI!!!! sorry if you've already posted about this before, but i'm aware you help maintain a vod archive - we're trying to do this for another server and were wondering if you had any tips for useful tools or ways to go about this? thanks and sorry for bothering !!

yes ok!!! here r my tips

1. Have some sort of location where all the VODs are accessible from, for people who may want to find them. For us, we have a spreadsheet, with dates & labels; this could also take the form of a YouTube playlist or an archive.org collection

2. Having only one way to download VODs probably wont be able to cover every scenario you encounter. Here's a list of a BUNCH of resources and tools, many of which you might never need, and most of which I've never heard of. In terms of programs to download VODs, I personally use a mixture of three: Twitch Downloader, 4k Video Downloader, and Twitch Recover. (I use Downloader to access most Twitch VODs, 4k for YouTube videos/streams - although it also does Twitch - and Twitch Recover for when a VOD has been recently deleted*.)

3. TWITCH DELETES VODS !!!! unless a vod is saved as a highlight, those suckers go KABLOOEY at a certain point! the exact amount of time will vary, depending on whether ur streamer is affiliate, partner, or not, so knowing your streamer's status is very helpful. I think non-affiliates and affiliates have a week, and then partners have 60 days. Note that Twitch Recover does not work on VODs older than 60 days, so this time limit is REALLY IMPORTANT.

4. If you're able to get in touch with your streamers in some way, that is really cool and epic! Not necessary at all, but sometimes it's nice being able to remind streamers theres a demand for an official VODs channel, or asking if they have any spare VODs lying around

5. HAVE FRIENDS TO DO THIS WITH !! you said "we" so I assume theres probably a team of some sort already, but division of labor is HUGELY helpful for VOD archiving, because those GB start adding up fast. (It's about 2.5 GB per 1 hour of video at 1080p quality, and generally you want the highest quality possible, so VODs can get pretty chunky.) Oh yeah I guess storage space is useful too. Remember to do spring cleaning also every now and then and make sure you dont delete anything that isnt already backed up elsewhere 👍 but yes. Teamwork. Communicating with the group about who will do what, being able to mobilize in a potential crisis, and making occasional public calls for additional hands on help are all super important, I've found.

6. YouTube is a copyright bitch! While it's better for watching vods back on, it will occasionally block a vod for copyright. YouTube is great, I upload all my MCC vods there unlisted, but I also recommend getting familiar with archive.org. archive is a little slower to upload but it won't hide a VOD worldwide because it had a copyrighted song or three in it. Having mirrors of uploads is a good tool for peace of mind - one of my friends has been on a kick of double mirroring VODs lately, even ones that will eventually be up on a VODs channel, but that's also a lot of uploading and slows him down

7. Being aware to at least some degree of the contents of what you're archiving is a good thing. Sometimes you need to censor out an accidental doxxing or worry about an IP leak, and I find it makes me feel more confident in my work if I know what I'm preserving. Like, I archive plenty of MCC POVs I havent necessarily watched, but they're all MCC, and I know what happens, and I sometimes hear details from other people - but a random server VOD from a guy I don't watch much of could contain anything. Sometimes I worry I've accidentally stuck deeply personal information into the internets biggest document repository. And maybe I have. But having some familiarity helps the peace of mind

8. Have fun with it and take pride in your work! You're helping to prevent something you love, the hard work of others, from becoming lost media! That's sooooo epic and sexy and cool of you, actually, and more people should do it - either on their own for their own personal purposes, or in the context of a larger project, like me and you

tl;dr its work but it boils down to communication, having the right tools, and having a team that is willing to adapt and cooperate in order to get stuff done! best of luck in your efforts

#asks #the genesis institute #this is like sooooo much info most of it will come up naturally. & i think the exact rhythm and formula #will vary depending on the exact group of people you've got & the demands of the server itself

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blastingtowardsbluerskies · 4 months

Note

Hey. Girly. I got your guy right next to me .. he's absolutely conked out on an Entei. The other brat who looks like him is absolutely beggin' to .. "take him to their world" or whatever.

Should we wait till he wakes up? Or just .. let em' go? He's kinda cute, but I don't care what we do with him. Kanto ain't much warmer, but it's not in total ruins. Best place I can think to take him is Viridian .. it's weirdly unscathed.

- 🥇

It’s Miss Palette, thank you very much! I think you should wait for Silver, the sleeping Silver, to wake up. But tell the other guy to slow down a bit. Silver isn’t… He isn’t okay. He was made not to be okay. He hardly knows what life is like outside those cold walls. It will take a while. It’ll take a while to set in “I’m finally free.” but it’s going to take forever to decide “what next?” now that the Masked Man- Pryce. Pryce is gone. It’s going to be a lot to know that the person who hurt him, hurt you and all of Johto, is truly gone. That nothing will snatch him away in the night. That any connection he had won’t be frozen before his very eyes again, whether he met them before or after their icy tomb.

Viridian is a good place. There’s someone there who might know how to help. I don’t know, for certain, actually how they’ll be. But you ought to trust my judgement by now, right? I haven’t lied about the extremely important information! Jokes aside, still, it might be good to let him rest and recover there.

So, in short, let him decide… Please. And if he’s ready, if he’s stable, and willing. I want him to click this ‘read more.’ It’s just for him. It’s only for him, but Silver, I have to tell you I’m sorry I had to trick you. Lying to anyone is easy. It’s second nature, but… I have to admit this stung a little. I didn’t think when you were there. In that hellscape that if I revealed who I was to you that you’d take it well. If you’re afraid of what I’m going to say and show you, you don’t have to. I just need you to know that. You’re brave. You’re brave no matter what. I wanted to protect you and this… might not protect the thing I wanted to protect the most. So, please, please, understand that if you’re connecting the dots right now I’m not going to hold it against you.

[A hand is over a camera, darkening it. A soft hum as the camerawoman checks that it’s on. Her voice following not soon after:

“Well, it’s maybe not a good idea for me to do this, I was playing the part of mystery operator so well!” She singsongs, but it grows to a seriousness, something that seems foreign for the girl as she lightly chuckles. As if she’s not sure what to say. “But… I feel a kind of need to. You’re done with all the torture. You get to be done. And I’m sure not going to be ‘who was the mystery operator’ in the middle of a too anxious to sleep session.”

The hand pulls away.

“Hi, Silver. I’m not sure if you’d- One hundred percent recognize me- I mean, my charm is pretty hard to forget but…” She pauses. That unfamiliar, awkward little guilty smile on her face. “Well, you’re smart. You would’ve connected the dots anyways even if I didn’t do anything here.

“I bet it’s… strange. To see, I mean. I’m almost all grown up. And well, your sister’s a ten year old still. And you’re ten too. It was strange for me too- don’t worry, when I… Never mind, never mind! This is you. And I- I hope you grow up too, you know? I mean, given how I prefaced this message, maybe you’re grown up by now!”

There’s another pause. The silent air saying instead unspoken, “You were forced to grow up too fast anyways. We both were.”

Blue smiles, that slightly sad but still trying to be a holding it together big sister, but it’s fond, “So, my name’s actually Blue. Funny how that is, hm? Buuut I don’t mind the nickname for sake of clarity! It was cute, wasn’t it?

“And, well, it’s not exactly the same but if we’re anything like each other. I think your sister, your Green, would want to say this. Would want you to hear it, over and over again. So she could say it to you whenever you’re scared again. Scared that the people who hurt you, scared of the man that hurt you could ever possibly hurt you again even though they’re gone. I know you know what I’m going to say, but, I think you need to hear it.

I love you, Silver.”

The video cuts shortly after, the uncharacteristically complete straightness and seriousness of the young woman still ever prevalent, and you can almost just see a tear in her eyes.

Not just hearing it, but saying “I love you” was impactful, after all.

#pokemon irl #real pokemon #pkmn irl #//OOC: sigh I had to go for the kill

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caramellopeach-blog · 2 years

Text

Your Beauty never ever scared me

TW : mention of suicide, depression, self harm and use of strong language.

Spoiler of MHA

Hi everyone, is the author here :) I just wanna say that I wrote this story also becase I wanna spread that depression exist and is a serious illness, it’s not just a sad feeling and if you need help, it’s okay to ask and it’s not a shame. I am learning that myself and sometime it’s not easy, but it gets better.

Please ask for help if you need, stay safe and enjoy things you like, despite what others say.

Have a good day <3

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a late sunday night and you and Shigaraki were returning from a mission in which you had to take care of a silly copycat of Shigaraki himself. He was pretty pissed off, so you were trying to cheer him up, but you were not the greatest.

“Come on Shigaraki...his lips weren’t even that cracked...he was a bad copycat!”

Shigaraki looked at you with a strange look, a mix between anger, amousement and misbelief and said:

“Fuck you y/n... come on, we must return to the others.” Shigaraki said that with a little smile on his face, he knew you were just lying and having fun.

He was like a brother to you because after the death of your father and the madness of your mother, you started living on the street, until Shigaraki rescued you from some silly villains. He introduced you to Kurogiri, who at first was a little unsure about you and didn’t know if he could trust you, but after quite some time he eventually started to give you small tasks and assignments. You usually didn’t go on missions with the others, you mostly organised appointments and gave them details about missions and heroes. You were some kind of a stalker, if you can say that.

Your quirk gave you the power to know information about a person by just looking at their photos, but the more items you had, more details you acquired. For example, if someone gave you a simple photo, you knew their name or exact age, but if you had someting more personal you could discover their secrets or inner fears.

Your life with the League of Villains was good, you were always protected by the others, and in exchange you offered important information about the heroes. It was a very good deal, considering that you would have probably ended up in jail or worse, if you have still lived on the street.

In the League you have also find something special, something different from a brother and some kind of father figure (who was Kurogiri).

You have found love.

You were in love with a person you would have never expected to, a person completely different from you.

Dabi was from another planet, with a different lifestyle, but the two of you ended up together anyway. Of course at start it was not that easy because Dabi was a very difficult person and he didn’t want to come near you because of your quirk. He was afraid you would have find out about his past and pain, which he didn’t wanna live again, but you eventually found everything out. Despite keeping it a secret at start, you told him when the two of you were more intimate and he was mad angry at first, but he calmed down after months of silence and distance, when he realised the only person he would have talked to about his story was indeed you.

Your relationship was doing well, there were also negative times and sadness, but that is normal and your situation as villains didn't help either.

When you and Shigaraki arrived at the lair of the League, you were welcomed by Toga and Kurogiri. While you were talking with Toga, you started to get worried because Dabi hadn’t welcomed you yet and almost always he was the first to come at the door, so you asked Toga.

“Dabi? I think he went crazy, he has been in his room the entire day and hasn’t come out since this morning, I don’t even think he has eaten anything...I wonder what he has...probably he is just a moody baby...”

“What? I will check on him Toga, thanks. Let me know immediately next time about Dabi”

“Can I have his blood if he is dead?” Asked the crazy Toga.

You left her without a look, angry because she didn’t told you anything about the situation and you became more worried. That was not normal, even though Dabi has always been a difficult person.

You knocked at his door.

“Dabi, it’s me, Y/n... i will come inside now, ok? I just want to check on you.” You quietly opened the door.

The room was a complete disaster, everything was messy and you couldn't even find the window in the room. It was dark and you couldn't find Dabi, who apparently was gone.

"Love, where are you? It's me, please...I'm getting worried..."

A grunt arrived at you: Dabi was there. You finally found by memory the window and opened it, letting the light inside the room and finding the boy on his bed, wrapped in his blankets with a pillow on his head. You came near him, trying to understand the situation and help him.

"Darling, I'm here, is everyt..."

"GO AWAY Y/N! I DON'T WANT YOU TO SEE ME! GET THE FUCK OUT!" he shouted. Firstly you were scared by him, but then you became angry because he wasn't seeking for your help, despite being you one or maybe the only person who could truly understand him. So you grabbed the sheets and pulled them away, just to reveal one of the most tragic scene you had ever seen.

Blood, blood everywhere.

Blood on his face, on his hands, on his torso.

"WHAT THE HELL DABI?! What happened?" First thing you run in the bathroom and took the first aid kit and came back to him. In the meantime Dabi started to cry. His tears were a mix of fear, regret, anger and of course pain and sadness.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you my love, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to do that, I'm a horrible person.."

"It's okay, there is nothing to be sorry about, you were angry and i should have never invade your privacy like that, sorry. I was angry and it was not right. Do you want to tell me what happened?" You told him, while you were medicating his wounds. Apparently he cut some of his piercings with teeth and by hand and it was pretty badly, so you also started to sew him up.

"I...I was thinking about the past and all of a sudden everything went back to hunt me: all the pain, the suffering of my siblings and my mother, the madness of my father...everything. I was overwelmed, so I thought I could hurt myself to make it go away, but it became just worse. I looked in the mirror and I saw a monster, not me and I started to hate my appearence too...Jeez, I'm a disaster... I don't think it's fair to you to stay and I don't even know if you stay with me for pity... I'm sorry.

I don't want you to look at me, I'm disgusting and all these scars make me just worse. I'm sorry. I don't think I'm enough"

"Touya...stop it"

When Dabi heard his long forgotten name, he stopped and looked at you. He had a teraful, scared and at the same time loving gaze, he was searching for your touch, your encouragment, your love. You suddenly had the urge to hold him tight, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, even thought you knew that wasn't right.

"Your beauty never ever scared me, Dabi.

I know that I cannot adjust everything and probably it is impossible for me to do so, but I will always be by your side Love, I will never leave you. I love you"

Dabi was surprised. That was the first time you have ever said something like that, but without esitation he replied :

"I love you y/n. And I want to feel better for you"

"And most important, for youself, Dabi."

"Yes, yes, you're right." You wiped away his last tears, his eyes were red and swallowed, but with a hint of hope and love.

"Do you think you can help me tidy the room and...do you want to sleep with me tonight?"

"Of course Love, but first you have to eat something. It's important. Wait for me, I'll prepate you something." You cooked him a soup and gave him water, because he was also dehydrated. Dabi looked like a child, on his bed eating the soup with a clean blanket on his head and the bandages all over his body. You finished to stitch him and the two of two cleaned up the room and took a shower.

Before going to bed, you wore just the underwear, because Dabi is basically a hot heater and you would have sweated a lot in a pyjama.

Dabi hugged you from behind with his stong arms and said before going to sleep:

"Thank you Honey, I love you and I'll always be there if you need me."

#dabi bnha #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x reader imagine #dabi x reader fluff #mha #mha fanfiction #love #dabi fluff #dabi love #dabi imagine #dabi scenarios

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sunriseverse · 1 month

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@vaynglories replied to your post “10, 14, 16, 17 for the writing q's!”:

I AM ASKING NOW. TELL ME ABOUT THE USES OF "BAD WRITING" (if you want to) (also hardcore agree on the first person thing. so many oft-hated-upon devices can be used to good effect, it's all about the manner in which they're used!)

okay sorry to only get to this [checks timestamp] twelve hours later BUT i have so so many feelings about this so thank you for encouraging me.

for this post, i'll be talking about the generally hated styles/types of writing, the ones that people always so to NEVER DO, that i can remember off the top of my head. (if i miss one that you want to hear about, let me know!!! i love talking about this subject.) i'll list them off very quickly so you have a general idea what i'm talking about: second person pov, first person pov, "excessive" italicisation, stream-of-consciousness, lack of dialogue tags, grammatical errors, repetition, "overly" detailed/purple prose, and omission of information.

(this got long, oops. sticking it below the cut for readability.)

as a brief preface, i'll say this: i think that a lot of these things are hard to pull off in a way that works. it takes a lot of experience, skill, and understanding of both the medium you're working with, and what each of these things conveys. but so often i see people warning authors away from them entirely, which is, in my opinion, shortsighted at best, and stunting of creativity at worst. now i'll give an explanation for each of these, and how i've used them/how i think they can be used effectively.

second person pov: this is arguably the most "intimate" pov, because you're making the reader an implicit party to the narrative, moreso than usual. that doesn't mean the narrator is the reader, though! second person pov can also help to create, paradoxically, a distance from the actual narrator. you can see this in the harrow the ninth novel, for one example, and in another, i've used second person a couple times in my recent works; here's an example of it:

You didn’t bother trying to answer. You knew well enough that the best option in the battlefield of pain was silence. They, you thought, perhaps, were waiting for you to make a sound; to groan, or grunt, or moan, or wail. They forgot you were as Zhang as they were. This was not a smugness; this was a fact you knew as well as the length of your fingers had been burnt into you.

here, the second person pov blurs the lines between the reader's experience, and xiaoge's experience, but does not make the reader the narrator; not that that would be a bad thing, but in this case, that's not what i was going for; you can tell who the narrator is based on details that are given. the second person pov also makes the narration feel more factual—it is being experienced rather than being observed.

first person pov: very common in YA novels, but adult novels have first person povs as well! you just don't hear about them as much. i would say first person pov is one of the harder things on this list, because it can be hard to characterise the narrator without making them feel too much like a self insert/audience insert. that said, first person pov is a great way to convey mystery, suspense, and have an unreliable narrator! to keep with giving examples, the main dmbj novels are told in first person form; they, therefore, are necessarily filtered through what wu xie deems important, and as you go further along, it becomes clear that someones—maybe even often—he's bending the truth, giving a very biased account, or just straight out lying or forgetting things, not to mention that, necessarily, there are things he just doesn't know that you don't learn about until either a. someone else states them upfront, or b. npss writes a third person pov novel that mentions the fact. some other novels with first person povs: the tiger's daughter, the employees, the murderbot diaries. the first two are epistolary, and the second two have mystery elements; in both cases, the first person pov has a specific purpose, which it fulfils well.

"excessive" italicisation: this is a complaint i've heard less often, but i have heard it, so it's going on the list. oftentimes people tell you to reserve italics for special occasions, not much unlike the way older generations would have told you to restrict your exclamation mark usage. it's a matter of stylistic preference, i'll be blunt, and carries with it a lot of implication that are culturally specific. for example, if you're writing in chinese, you necessarily cannot italicise—but i digress. italicisation is good for drawing special, specific emphasis to things; i've used it in my writing to indicate altered mental states before, as i have personal experience with my mental state being altered by psychiatric episodes that cause me to give undue attention to seemingly "trivial" things, changed my speech patterns, etc. from a very old pacific rim fic, where the narrating character is still suffering under the effects of being possessed and having his mental state altered by it:

This time, the guards don’t protest as Hermann dismisses them—a quick jerk of his head and they’re gone. “They gave me thicker socks this time,” Newt says conversationally, part of him wanting to shift from foot to foot, but he remains still.

as you can see, the italicisation gives the dialogue a strange, almost jarring, artificial quality. it's as if it's being read off by an autogenerated voice, rather than a human—which, considering the fic touches upon the experience of humanity, is fitting.

stream-of-consciousness: not a very common thing, but in my opinion, good for showing altered mental states—be it due to extreme fear or stress, mental health issues, or tense situations. i've used this a couple times, in a sha hai fic where li cu is experiencing a sudden realisation of what, exactly, is sharing his body with him, and the conflicting thoughts between him and the parasite, and i've also used it in sunrise more recently, describing xiaoge's experience hiveside, in a place that cannot properly be comprehended by the human mind:

The stone scrapes against the wall. Li Cu breathes, and blinks, and you are not alone in this body the other has noticed you the other must not be allowed to Li Cu wants to run wants to drown himself until the sensation leaves the panicked sparrow in his chest the body will listen to you and you will return to It because that is the only way this can end one foot before the other move slowly move steadily don’t harm this body it is all you have until It do not let the other do as it wishes Li Cu wants to yell wants to scream Li Cu wants to flee Li Cu is a rabbit in a snare Li Cu is a deer’s neck snapping beneat the force of a tiger’s jaws Li Cu is a sparrow Li Cu is a mouse Li Cu is fucking done no he is not fucking letting this thing do whatever it wants with the body is no longer listening the other has grown too strong a flameburst a flash of fangs the other has noticed the other should have been excised Li Cu is not fucking letting this be his end Li Cu is not fucking dying down here Li Cu is not, Li Cu is not, fingers clumsy on the zippers, fumbling as they shift through the contents, tubes and papers and they’re heavy on the hands they fit so nicely isn’t it strange it’s never been thought of before that excision isn’t always cutting isn’t it strange that excision can be burning too that you can cauterise an infection can cauterise an interloper can cauterise

and

in this place in this space he will have no moment to breathe no moment to blink no moment to slow in this place he will have no self no other only IT and ALL ELSE because that will be the truth of IT that it will see not in terms of differentiation but in SELF and OTHER and he will be OTHER and he will fight it better than anything or anyone before because he will be the only one who has the memory of before the only one who won’t corrupt at its touch though it will burn though it will sing and oh it will be blinding oh it will be vibrant oh it will paint the hollow of his mind in beautiful beautiful colours no other will be able to comprehend in this moment he will for a second become not OTHER but rather IT become not OTHER but SELF and it will be this that he fights mostly this that he battles the longest SUBSUMATION INTO THE WHOLE that he dances away from will be the CONSUMPTION that he holds the walls against firm will be this that he will try and summon the memories of THEM and this that will succeed but not for yet not for now NOT JUST QUITE NO NOW IS NOW IS NOW IS NOW IS

lack of dialogue tags: as long as you know what you're doing, it's actually not that hard to make it clear who's speaking even if you're not using dialogue tags. i haven't seen this in a published novel, but i've both used and seen it before in character study-type fics, and in remembered conversations, where the focus is less on a conversation happening, and more on the experience of the conversation. it also, in my opinion, tends to add a surreal atmosphere to the section it's being used in—more like an image than text. there is, of course, also the lack of dialogue tags in speech when talking about telepathic communication, but i don't think that that's usually what's being talked about when it comes to this.

grammatical errors: while annoying when made because an author doesn't know better, in the hands of an experienced writer, these can be very effective at conveying altered mental states, giving a sense of foreboding or surrealism, or for characters that aren't human or for some reason have no experience or memory of being human. i forgot to add this to the list, but grammatical errors also blend a bit with formatting errors—formatting is a great way to build a certain atmosphere, be that ascetic, horror, etc.

repetition: can be annoying, but has genuine applications! if there's a truth that a character holds particularly firmly, that might show up in repetitive narration. on top of this, if there's something particularly strange, eye-catching, or an overwhelming emotion or experience, this can also show up in repetition. repetition pressed closer together can give the sense of a stifling, claustrophobic atmosphere, or that a character is experiencing something overwhelming, and spread out, it can be used to establish themes and characterisation.

"overly" detailed/purple prose: i am a purple prose defender until the day i die. just because some people who don't know what they're doing make purple prose a slog doesn't mean that it's inherently bad. prose that's "excessively detailed" can be a good way to establish character—they may pay particular attention to detail due to, for example, constantly needing to be aware of their surroundings for safety or political reasons, etc—, and a good way to establish dynamics between characters, convey emotion, and give the world of the writing a more "realistic", vibrant feel to it. i especially appreciate detailed prose for its ability to convey emotion—as someone who's a character writer, i rely a lot on the prose to convey the character's emotions, and thus, characterise them, and carry the narrative.

omission of information: sometimes the narrator won't tell you things and that is not only okay, but also good! it can be a great way to characterise a character—what do they focus on? what do they avoid? what does this say about them? are they omitting these things only from those around them, only the reader, or both? how does the reader's perspective change if/when they find out what's been omitted? in my opinion, a lot of great usages of omission come from them being only omitted in one or two ways—as in, there are hints as to the omission, that the reader could have pieced together, but they trusted the narrator, or just didn't notice them because they were paying more attention to what was being said directly rather than what was being alluded to by the other characters. omission is similar, in my opinion, to plot twists—it works best when the reader had enough tools to figure it out, but for whatever reason, didn't.

okay that's the end of my very long rant. i hope this makes sense!!! and if there's things i missed let me know and i'll talk about them :)

#c.txt

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spirit-speaking · 6 months

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Detachment is an Art Form

The fatigue behind her eyes was damn near relentless and her head pounded soon after waking.

It would have been far less embarrassing to have an excuse that it had been one too many drinks at the Gala, or perhaps that Valeria was even coming down with something instead of admitting to the confusion and frustration that had been exuded the night before. Sleep was never hard to come by, but it wasn’t every night that her mind was wracked with tension and fog.

Forcing herself to remember parts of her past that were riddled with holes did nothing to help her situation and often forcing memories had caused more harm than good.

Perhaps, today was another day in.

Valeria’s bicolored eyes blinked, staring at the ceiling above her as she felt her bones weighing heavy, simply lying within the plush of her bed, feeling debilitated. It seemed she had lost track of time at some point when she saw herself to bed and let her emotions take her adrift.

And drift she did but even the next morning there was no ignoring the subtle ache that swelled within the center of her chest, like a lump she couldn’t swallow down, and the very swift reminder of what had transpired the night previously.

Her frame was much smaller than Ricard and given her frail state it was no wonder Valeria didn’t hurt her hand in the process of striking Ricard as soon as she had seen him. The rest of the party-goers hadn’t noticed the commotion in the back of the room, crowds gathered at the foot of the stairs nearby where cheers and poppers sounded out in celebration. A perfect mask to the slap she had procured towards Ricard’s person, not that it had been planned in the slightest. And even after she had done it, a sliver of her felt regretful and guilty.

Perhaps it was just as Cordelia said, her emotions ran away with her but she wasn’t about to admit to that. Shamed for feeling the very fire within her that sparked her ire, to begin with. At least…. She was feeling something for the first time in a long while.

Her point barely came across.

It was wasted breath and the end result had come at the cost of her feelings; sans a sincere apology.

‘I shared information that was part of my job.’ Ricard said. ‘Some of that information involved you, but it was not purposely to disclose your personal life, Valeria.’ but it had done just that.

Ricard said he wanted a friendship with her, but she was certainly aware friends didn’t do what he did. Peddling personal information to outside sources because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was his job. The statement was self-serving at best and it was right then and there that Valeria had known right away that she was just as much a payout as anyone else to Ricard.

Friends.

The thought played over in her head and she closed her eyes, fingers pinching roughly at the bridge of her nose, willing some measure of sting to avoid the prickle behind her eyes she knew was about to double down into another crying session.

‘I shared information that involved you - no. I’m not going to lie to you.’ he had told her.

But omitting important things such as that was the same thing as telling a lie. Weeks and weeks prior when she had met with him at the Milner estate she asked him about their relationship and further what they had meant to one another. Clearly, outside the scope of her knowledge, everyone else seemed to be aware of their past and the only one omitted from the equation had been Valeria herself -- that was until last night.

Ricard had aimed a shot at her integrity and it struck. Boy, how it struck. Painfully she carried it with her all the way to her bedroom that night and even still the lingering effects haunted her. It stunted the evening and her time well spent with Damien was nearly overshadowed by the display. She felt horrible.

Condemned as rude, compared to a child, her character called into question, her lack of poise stated from a woman she had never met, and how swiftly she was discarded under the rug by Ricard when she asked him why he had done what he did.

She couldn’t tell, her mind jumbled and messy, skirting the line between hurt and anger and despite her feeling the myriad of emotions, being caught up in a web she had no part in, she was now just collateral damage. She had said some harsh things in her departure from Ricard and Cordelia she had found in the corner, refusing to let either of them see her cry or what damage they had wrought on her being.

‘I curse you Ricard Blythe. I see now what is before me and I thank the twelve for my injury to rid myself of you. Good luck, one can only hope you don’t find yourself six feet deep and in a box before next year’s end.’

Of course, there was something between Ricard and Cordelia, how could one not see it after seeing the two – strangely enough – in public with one another in the corner of a room? It looked innocent enough but the conversation gave way to several clues, one being that both Cordelia and Ricard looked quite comfortable with one another. And it was all starting to make sense with how Ricard and Cordelia came to the defense of one another.

There were two sharp knocks on her door and Valeria’s voice crackled gently, “Come in.” she announced and she willed herself to sit up in the bed when Vahalia entered, “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly the 12th bell. Honestly Valeria are you well?” Vahalia skirted over and sat herself at the edge of her sister’s bed, hand moving to place at Valeria’s forehead to check for a fever.

“I’m fine. Just a little tuckered out. I think there was a little bit too much dancing last night, I enjoyed myself, however.”

“Good.” Vahalia quipped and her hand lowered to her lap, “I was beginning to worry when I hadn’t seen you awake and flitting around the house.”

“Just a little bit of fatigue, I’ll be alright.” Val smiled across to Vahalia and she lowered her head to place some attention on her nails as she spoke, “I think I might take the day to rest.”

“As you wish.” Vahalia seemed to study Valeria for a brief moment, The twin’s intuition seemed to probe in silence but Vahalia didn’t press further, “I have some things arriving today, Dawn Aethwyn will be your physician for the time being and that of the House, so do try to familiarize yourself with her. If you feel you need her I can summon her to be here before the evening's supper?” “N-no I’m okay I promise. Just a little tired. I’m not used to as much celebration and joyous holiday festivities. Perhaps that is a sign I am getting old.” she teased with a hint of a smirk nestled into her cheek. The little prod was enough to get a bit of a stern but playful look from Vahalia.

“Well, that aside then I suppose I should tell you a bit of good news.”

“Oh out with it then!” Val turned in the bed and wiggled her way to the edge where Vahalia sat, facing her, “You know I like a bit of harmless gossip. What did you hear?” through everything she endured, she could use all the good news the family could get.

Leaning in, Vahalia opted to whisper into Valeria’s ear, the news itself causing those bicolored eyes of Valeria’s to spark wide, excitement tinged within and a small amount of shock as she pulled away, laughed, and covered her mouth.

“Really?!” she asked, eyes teary for a small moment and Valeria was simply met with a singular, brisk nod from Vahalia. Tears was brimming in Valeria’s eyes once again out of sheer bewilderment and joy as she threw her arms around her kin, finding even the simplest comfort in the scent of her sister’s perfume.

It was here that Vahalia felt Valeria’s hold growing a little tighter and needy, silently desperate for comfort. It was the intuition that had Vahalia holding a little tighter as they sat quietly in an embrace for as long as Valeria might have needed it.

Mention(s): @damien-gray-ffxiv - @ricard-blythe-ffxiv - @promethea-silk - @vahalia-cress-ffxiv

#Stories #Blurbs

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