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chaedomi · 7 months

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AGRICHE TO PEDELIAN

SUMMARY . flowers don't attract butterflies alone. suddenly, others are gravitating to you, expanding your long list of obsessive admirers. pt. 1

CHARACTERS . THE BLUE PEDELIAN

WARNINGS . YANDERE, female child reader, platonic, ooc, kidnapping, mild injury, implied violence, unhealthy relationships (if i missed any, kindly alert me)

WORDCOUNT . 2.4k+ / MASTERLIST.

HOW DID it end up like this? It all happened in the span of one night while you were asleep. And when you reopened your eyes, you quickly discovered that you were no longer inside your bedroom. You had time to explore every place in your manor, so when you couldn’t identify which part of the manor you were in, you began to panic and overthink.

Your distress got worse when a silver-haired female burst into the room and grabbed you into a hug as if there wasn’t some problem with this. At this point, you began to cry, fully convinced that you were kidnapped, pushing the woman away from you, and startling her. It was in chaos for a while, your screams mixing with your words as you wailed for your freedom. The woman tried to reassure you with sweet words, inclusive of the maids present who stepped in to assist by dangling pretty jewelry in front of your face to distract you.

Unfortunately, their efforts to appease you only increased your wails. When a masculine figure barged into the room this time, it was only then you stopped crying, in favor of blinking at him while the stray tears fell from the corner of your eyes. Staring at the male, you knew he looked familiar, your panicked mind just couldn’t identify who.

When he approached you with a gentle smile, patted your head, and began this monologue of ‘protecting’ you, you finally put the pieces together; this male was no other than the heir of The Blue Pedelian, CASSIS. Oh, boy…

In truth, your kidnapping was all ROXANA's fault, and she had no choice but to admit that. God forbid if her family found out that she was the whole reason for your disappearance, it would even make her kind-hearted mother hold some form of grudge against her and result in her execution. Luckily, no one was able to trace the doings back to her… except her red-eyed freak of an older brother.

Satisfying her curiosity was not worth it. As they say, it killed the cat. Now, she was stuck reaping the consequences of her stupidity; distraught over your disappearance, and additional work that could have been avoided, in her plan.

…If her life didn't depend on his, you bet she would have already retaliated without mercy. How foolish, she gave him an inch and he took a mile.

But, who is to blame other than herself? To explain, it was a fleeting thought that crossed her mind one morning to which she initially paid no mind… till it stubbornly stuck inside her brain. From what she remembered, in The Abysmal Flower, Sylvia displayed extreme and obsessive feelings toward you, despite being the enemy, willing to risk her safety to keep you by her side. Due to her intervention, however, Sylvia remained out of the picture. Still, she began to wonder.

If Sylvia wasn’t immune to your adorable charms, could it possibly be the same for Cassis? And thus, it marked the beginning of her little experiment. It came as no surprise to her that Cassis was on guard when she first introduced you to him. After all, almost every Agriche child was a demon spawn.

Regardless of the precautions Cassis took, his guard quickly crumbled once he was exposed to your innocence and purity, much to Roxana’s amusement. His hostile attitude quickly evaporated, he even held you on his lap (with Roxana’s permission), reciting stories that would intrigue a child your age. …She wished he was that cooperative with her as well.

She continued this pattern for a few weeks… every day, she would spare some time to take you to Cassis and observe how it played out in the distance. And each time, it never failed to entertain her. A righteous and kept man like him becomes nothing more than a slave for a child, an enemy’s child. She was long satisfied with her discovery, it’s just that Cassis was always in a better mood and more willing to listen after he spent his time with you.

But the day Cassis got too comfortable and had the guts to refer to you as one of his SIBLINGS, she realized, she may have spoiled him too much. She never had a problem when Sylvia referred to you as her ‘little sister.’ However, that was BEFORE she was thrown into the novel world. Now that she had the opportunity to experience your kindness herself, anyone who tried to make their claim on you outside the family is nothing LESS aggravating. And that was the end of your little visits.

That’s when it went downhill. Of course, Cassis was quick to pick up on your sudden absence throughout the days. He tried to ask, but once Roxana's tone progressively got more aggressive the longer he persisted, he finally got the hint. He wasn't seeing you again.

Roxana was grateful that Cassis had shut his mouth after a while. But, she found it odd how compliant he remained without your presence. More so, she hated the way he stared at her, a hidden intent she couldn't figure out in his eyes. It intensified when she gave him a map of the manor, a faint sighting of a smirk ghosting his lips. …Out of all people, Roxana would have never expected Cassis to kidnap someone. Trust no one, as they say. What an arse… Repaying her good deeds with this.

And so, the manor of The Black Agriche was thrown into a frenzy, having lost something very precious. Unless Roxana wanted to stir more trouble with hasty actions, she must sit quietly for now. …At the very least she didn’t need to worry about your safety. Unlike The Black Agriche, The Blue Pedelian will never torture their captives, let alone a young child like you…

Meanwhile, you were having your own crisis. This was a very drastic change. Although the violent nature of your family often terrifies you, you have grown used to it… kind of. Now, with the serene environment of The Blue Pedelians, you've grown antsy, anticipating some form of chaos to arise.

Ignoring how he took you without your agreement (no matter how hard he tried to justify his actions in a good light), you felt more comfortable being around CASSIS than the rest of the family. You weren’t sure if the times spent together back in your manor contributed to your lack of fear around him or relieved over the fact that your situation could have been very worse, and you didn’t care all that much. Cassis's attitude toward you didn’t change from when he was held prisoner, instead, his doting habits only increased now that his actions were not limited and monitored. He spoils you a lot, more than he spoils his younger sister. He will try his hardest to provide whatever you want, as long as it stays within the 'reasonable' range.

And by 'reasonable' he means, stop asking him to return you home. Suddenly, he understood Roxana's frustration. Is this what she felt when he continuously persisted? He doesn't get why you would want to return home out of all places; your family is vile.

It's not like you wanted to return, you had to. Although you wished to run away and never return, the odds were still not in your favor for you to make your escape plan. Something also told you that residing in The Blue Pedelian Manor was its own kind of hell…

The possible feud that can brew if your whereabouts were revealed made your skin crawl with fear. Knowing your value between the two families as well, you would be caught in the crossfire, and who knows what would happen to you then… You were trying to make things better for you, not destroy all your chances.

Cassis still didn't listen to your concerns (he never does), shutting down your complaints with a stern glare. …You just hope whatever war was to break out, it would happen later rather than sooner…

Just what was wrong with you? He’s trying his hardest to get you accustomed to your new surroundings, spoiling you with gifts, spending time with you along with his sister, anything to put you at ease. Yet, you just didn’t care! All you did was flush his efforts down the drain. He thought he was making progress with you, so he would never expected it, hell, even imagined it. But, when he caught you creeping around the exit gates, your freaked-out expression said it all. Now, here you were, leg chained to the bedpost back inside your prison-like bedroom. Seeing you chained up reminded him of himself, and it was interesting to see the roles switch to some extent. Truthfully, your tears pained him, but, he didn’t see the point in you crying. He wasn’t doing anything bad and he wished that you’d stop acting as if he was.

"Why can’t you understand that this is for your benefit?"

Oh? SYLVIA adores you? Why, that's no secret and is obvious to anyone who witnesses the interaction between you and her. Why wouldn't she love you!? You're everything she ever wanted in a younger sister… well, minus the looks, but, she can get past that!

MORE doting than Cassis, it's overbearing, honestly. Ever since your first encounter, you don't remember a time when you were left alone; it's always some lousy excuse to be around you. She hugs, kisses, cuddles, squishes, and any affectionate gesture she can think of, she does it to you. It was like she was trying to merge herself with you.

Honestly, her compassion spooked you. Her behavior reminded you a lot of your second stepmother, Maria. So, you weren't surprised when she had some hostile reaction whenever a maid would unintentionally interrupt your 'bonding' time. The sweeter they are, the more aggressive. Well, at least there weren't any dead bodies scattered on the ground…

Have you ever been so upset that you began to cry? Sylvia is a perfect demonstration of that. Perhaps you were right to compare her to Maria, the rage evident on her face was akin to the deadly glare your stepmother wore when she was furious. Flashbacks clouded your mind of how Maria snapped when a servant accidentally spilled milk on your gown. This situation was much different; a maid somehow cut your hand with the teacup. The one time Sylvia thought it was a good idea to let you get some fresh air outside your room, the fun atmosphere was ruined by something silly as this. It’s no surprise if your family lashed out, but to see a sophisticated woman such as Sylvia spew out words of profanity and behave so hostile was unexpected. At the very least, you appreciated she held back for your sake. With the way her hands shook with rage the longer she chewed out the maid, you had the impression Sylvia wanted to do much more than a stern talking to.

“There you are! I looked for you everywhere. I was beginning to worry that you’ve run away, but, you won’t do that to me, right?”

Your fear of RISCHEL was reasonable. Given his position inside his household, you two never met that often. However, the rare times you do meet, his piercing gaze never fails to make you shrink back on yourself. If you think about it, his hateful attitude made sense. You were one of the many offsprings of his biggest enemy, Lante, and said enemy kidnapped his son and tormented him mercilessly. Some of his son’s many torturers included Lante’s children, so you could just imagine the many scenarios that went through his mind. You don’t blame him if he was tempted to torment you, solely for Lante having a taste of his own medicine.

While Rischel’s expression came across as wanting to bury you six feet under, in truth, he was very much intrigued by your existence. It was confusing to see his son return with an unconscious child after escaping. And for a moment he feared that his son went mad when the child held in his arms was an Agriche and pleaded for your protection.

He was hesitant (for good reason) but ultimately agreed in the end. If his son saw something valuable in you, then there must be some worth in keeping you around. However, it didn’t mean he automatically trusted you. Without your knowledge, he monitored you, planting eyes everywhere. Any suspicious activity he was informed of would be enough validation for him to throw you out with no hesitation.

…So how exactly did his wariness morph into overwhelming softness toward you? (like father like son) The feeling just dawned upon him and he noticed it all: your mannerisms, your innocence, it slowly rubbed on him in a positive light. This was strange. He wonders if you had used a spell on him, no one should fall under anyone’s whims so suddenly as if you possessed this charm that melts even the hearts of the cold-blooded. But, oh, did the feeling around you feel so nice. And soon, he simply gave in to the desire to love you and protect you.

You realized how much more tolerable he became of your presence, to your relief. Even so, the feelings you saw on the outside couldn’t begin to compare to the rapidly developing obsessive feelings he harbored for you. And by the time you began to pick up on the dangerous signals, the damage was already done.

You were beyond speechless when you looked into the reflection of the mirror, staring at someone else entirely. Her hair was a shade of pure silver, and her eyes resembled the golden rays of the sun. As you reached your hand out to touch the glass, your body froze as reality sunk in. This was not another person, but rather you, with a new appearance and identity you were forced to carry. Looking over your shoulder, you glanced at the faces of Rischel, Cassis, and Sylvia, hoping for all of this to be one big joke. But, the pleased glances they returned alerted you that this situation was far from a joke, and you had to accept your new fate.

“Sylvia was correct. This look suits you perfectly.”

You were stressed and rightfully so. How could all of this happen? And why did it have to be you? You were still young and didn’t deserve to deal with these problems. In such a short amount of time, along with new obsessors formed, you temporarily resigned to a new lifestyle, switching from agriche to pedelian.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #twtptflob x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #child reader #female reader

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day8423 · 1 year

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the idea of fiona being cursed randomly (us as the audience never discovering a reason this unknown witch put a spell on her), has always been so interesting to me. multiple times i've considered diving into writing a backstory, why she was cursed, why this witch decided fiona was destined for true loves kiss. i actually do have a whole load of headcanons and metas stored in the back of my brain, which in actuality would flesh it out and grant a reason why. but i have never put them to paper, nor will i ever, because i kinda love that we don’t know? (yeah it was probably just the writers once again belittling fiona over her male counterparts and deciding their stories were more important… but i ain’t gonna rant about that right now.) it aligns with good vs evil, the stereotypes that these films portray. fiona’s been raised on very straight forward beliefs that put her in that tower in the first place.

we never know what the witch’s motive was: was she plain evil, or was something else planned down the line? either way, far far away proved itself tenfold as a stick to the book kind of kingdom, keeping in line with all stereotypes and never drifting too far from fated paths. in fiona being cursed, harold immediately grew concerned regarding the stray of expectancy, and did everything in his power to get his daughter, his kingdom, and his own happily ever after back on track. rather than seeing how things might play out, he went to a well-known solution and beloved story: a fair maiden locked away in a tower. not actually knowing why the witch cursed fiona, ultimately reinforces the notion that far far away is a very closed minded kingdom (at least where the king is concerned, despite his own backstory). however all this unwillingly places fiona into the role of a princess like no other, the first strike of independence. she steps out of her destined pages, and rewrites her own story. and along that road, changes the entire mindset of those in higher positions in far far away. she gives lesser respected creatures a voice, advocates that being different is okay, and not only beautiful people deserve a happy ending.

i have also loved the idea that it could have been fairy godmother that cursed fiona as a little girl, under disguise as a haggard witch, in order to assure her sons place in far far away when both children grew up. then, she presented herself under a guise of goodwill, promoting this plan of locking fiona away in a tower for her own safety and security, setting the wheels in motion from the beginning. lillian and harold were so desperate for help, and she took that vulnerability for granted. which all this was not difficult given harold’s debt to her; she knew he would listen lest he risk himself and his position. (i genuinely don’t think lillian had much say in all this, but that is a rant for another time!) she waited until fiona was old enough, rather than cursing her as a baby. ‘when i was a little girl a witch cast a spell on me.’ old enough to know how to act and behave as a member of royalty, but still young enough to be moulded and naïve regarding some aspects of the world. that when she returned with charming, she would lack experience and knowledge of how to truly be a princess, given her isolation and separation from her people. thus, charming and godmother could shape her as they pleased, and gain proper reigns of far far away over carefully planned precision.

either way, cursed by fairy godmother or a random witch, fiona is never going to find out, and eventually she becomes okay with that. for a long time all she wanted to know was why. why her. why was she so different to every other princess out there. never knowing why she was cursed really does just strengthen her mindset because while she struggled with it for such a long time, it shaped her into who she is. there’s no grand backstory, she has nothing to truly blame, no one to seek revenge upon; she just needs to deal with it. furthermore, because it was random and seemingly an act of unjustified cruelty, it allowed fiona to break herself free from feeling like a victim, and get out of the tower when she did. it wasn’t destiny that cursed her, it wasn’t set in stone, her life wasn’t meant to exist in a lonely tower. if her parents had said from the beginning that it was supposed to be her story, those three stages (cursed, tower, rescue) then she would have been crafted to live like that. it would have been expected. alas, it wasn’t any kind of fate, so she really just gave a big middle finger to feeling like a victim, and took her story into her own hands!!

#ii. every princess is a beauty / every dragon must be cruel : study.#long post /#also this might seem like a harold hate blog.#(kinda is)#i DO think he loved his family a hell of a lot.#and genuinely thought he was doing what was best for fiona at the time.#but his mindset would have been VERY different if he wasn’t so scared of risking his own position and happy ending.#he’s just a weakling lbr.#also all this really is taking from my own interpretation rather than anything canon with shrek.#i probably shouldn’t need to reinforce that but like.#shrek is NOT canon here. <3 #unless specifically stated.#fiona runs her own world thank u very much!!#but yeah just the curse is so interesting to me!!!#the fact that there is legit no backstory when there could be an amazing one!#fiona being cursed really was the best thing that ever happened to her mkay.#after like...#twenty five years or so she comes to realise that rifp.#the irony in the fact that fiona’s curse was not destiny. it was random. and as such allowed her to break free from the shackles #of those emotional and physical restraints and become who she is.#but if it WAS destiny then she would have remained the dutiful princess because it was apparently who she was supposed to become.#she wouldn’t have questioned it.#i am overthinking this i know but.#i just LOVE that we don’t have a backstory.#i think it makes it way more intriguing.

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pjstafford · 8 months

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Themes of Disability as seen in The X Files

A few years ago I completed a focused watch on The X Files and wrote a blog series on the Images of Disability as seen in each episode. I presented my preliminary findings during a disability panel at The Southwest Popular Culture Association Conference. This is the first part of the next phase of the project which is to look at themes throughout the series (as oppose to an episode- by- episode analysis).

I write this today in celebration of 10/13 day. Today is a Friday the thirteenth in October. Ten Thirteen is the name of the production company which produced The X Files. It is Chris Carter’s, the creator of the series, birthday as well as fictional character Fox Mulder’s birthday. The X Files and Fox Mulder were known as spooky, so there is something a little special about a Friday the 13th celebration. In addition, this year marks the 30th year anniversary of the series.

In my initial blog series, I found much to criticize as well as appreciate. It was often suggested to me that I was being unfair to the series since the series was never intended to promote disability awareness. I believe that makes this study more significant. Popular Culture both influences and reflects society’s norms and values. The X Files is a show with 218 episodes which span 1993 to 2018 and two theater released movies. It was a global sensation and has now aged to iconic status with catch phrases which has become part of our referential language. There are more than five themes to consider and much to unpack about different episodes, but, as I reflect back on my disability focused watch and blog series, these are the five themes that stand out the most for me.

The criminal justice system and the medical system

Disability as “normal”

Disability and Horror

Crazy Vs. Different

Trauma impact

The Criminal Justice System and The Medical System

The success of The X Files is predicated on the two main characters, agents in the FBI, having a different perspective on paranormal cases. Mulder is the believer and Scully is the skeptic. There has been much written about how The X Files flipped gender roles. Scully is a medical doctor and scientist- both traditional male roles. Mulder, as a believer in the paranormal, is sensitive and empathetic with those who are perceived as being the “other”. He relates. Scully relies on traditional methods of investigation. Mulder is the risk taker and rule breaker. Scully has more appreciation for structure, authority, and rules.

The biggest surprise for me in my focused watch and blog was what a great framework this was to explore how persons with disabilities are often treated by the criminal justice system and the medical system. I understand that some people might read this section as being a harsh treatment of Scully, but it is high praise for the series which si often took advantage of the framework they had created to explore this dynamic.

Scully tended to jump to conclusions when she discovered that someone had been hospitalized from psychiatric disorders or was taking medication. Even in Humbug, which I will reference in more detail in the next section, Scully jumps to the conclusion that a circus performer with physical differences must be the murderer and assigned motivations related to social isolation. She is simply very quick to jump to conclusions based solely on disability. As a medical doctor, with very few exceptions, she is more likely to want to read charts than to interact personally with a person with disability and then, to assign capacity and capabilities based on what the chart says, as oppose to Mulder who meets the person and is willing to see the person instead of the condition.

Disability as A Normal Part of Life

While this appears in only a handful of episodes, those episodes are what inspired my focused watch and blog. The episodes where this occurs are among the best that I have seen in terms of how disability is portrayed. Most series that has characters with disabilities in the 1990s would have had the fact of the disability be the focus of the plot. That is not always the case in The X files. In one episode, a robotic scientist has significant impact of disability which impacts his ability and spoken communication. The fact of his disability is obvious, but never mentioned. In the end, when the character gets the girl instead of Mulder, the phrase used is “smart is sexy.” In another example a child who is blind is shown as being very capable and competent and is a key in solving a murder when she recognizes the scent of her mother’s perfume in the room where she has been murdered. Even with the death of her only parent, there is no pity or mention of tragedy due to the girl being blind. The fact that disability can exist for a character without it being the point of the character or a subplot is reflective of the reality that disability and persons with disabilities exist and have concerns where disability is not the focus. While I hesitate to use a phrase like “normal” in a disability related blog, the fact that this portrayal normalizes disability is a progressive form of storytelling.

Humbug is a remarkable episode which is based on a real town which was founded by Barnum and Baily circus performers. This episode has aa refrain said both near the beginning and the end of the episode – “Can you imagine going through life looking like that>” At the beginning the phrase is about a man with a skin condition that resembles an alligator and at the end the phrase is about the freakishly good-looking Fox Mulder. In between is a journey for the viewer that delivers the serious message that “other” depends on perspective.

Finally, Elegy takes place during the “cancer arc” where Scully has cancer. The episode focuses on visitations of murder victims right after they died. A man with autism becomes the mani suspect in the murders. He is seen as having maladaptive behaviors. In fact, he is having visitations because he is about to die. Scully, too, has visitations and responds with denial, not telling her partner, avoidance. In fact, both Scully and the man with autism are having the same emotional reaction to the same set of circumstances but Scully’s behavior seems more socially acceptable despite being equally as maladaptive. (This episode, also, relates to the category above). The man’s behavior seems far more “normal” when it is compared to how one of the leading characters is handling the same situation.

Disability and Horror

In a show which focuses on science fiction and horror genres of story-telling, The X Files portrayal of disability is often along the lines of “that of which you should be afraid.” For instance, the one episode of The X Files that was only shown once on network television before being banned from being shown in reruns or syndication, is the episode Home. It is the story of the house where everyone is afraid of entering the yard. It reminds the viewer of To Kill a Mocking Bird and the house where Boo Radley lives. While everyone is afraid, Boo Radley protected rather than endangered the children in the book and movie. In Home, the Peacock Boys are everything you are afraid of and more so.

Throughout the science fiction/ mythology arc of the series, are the fears of cloning and genetic manipulation. Cloning and genetic manipulation have been standards in science fiction horror since the concepts were conceived. They often have a cautionary message examining the concept of just because mankind can does not mean that mankind should. Cloning and genetic manipulation are scary concepts. However, in real life, many individuals with disabilities have a disability because a single genetic chromosome difference and are not scary at all. The episode Founder’s mutation includes children with the most disturbing conditions and yet we surely cannot compare any of these real conditions with the horror of having a child who can conjure up monsters or cause people’s heads to explode, can we? The X Files does.

It is impossible to talk about themes of disabilities in The X Files and not include this embedded and crucial plot line n the discussion and, yet, is so complex a discussion that it cannot be as quickly summarized as the other categories or themes.

Crazy vs. Different

A common plot device in movies about aliens is that a person who sees an UFO or alien is considered crazy by their families and friends. The X Files embraces this and elevates this to the point where parallels between Fox Mulder and the other “crazy” believers are drawn quite often. What I found most interesting is the perspective of how significant the stigma of mental illness was in the show. In the pilot, a medical examiner essentially puts his daughter’s life in danger because he wants to protect her from being seen as crazy even though he has examined her classmates’ bodies who were returned from abductions dead. In another episode, a mother who knows and believes her daughter was abducted by aliens prefers her daughter tell people she spent a week riding with a biker gang and is a bit of a slut rather than have her daughter discuss the truth of what happened.

Trauma Impact

One of the most interesting developments during The X Files series in relationship to the above topic occurs in Duane Barry when the audience knows that the man has a mental health condition,discovers he had a brain injury and, yet, also knows that he is an alien abductee. The viewer is confused and, yet, it makes sense that a person who is the victim of an alien abduction would have a psychological impact of trauma. It is interesting it is not more common in the genre. The X Files deals with many episodes of trauma from victims of government experiments or of war.

What isn’t so apparent except with closer viewing is the impact of trauma on the two lead characters. Mulder experienced childhood trauma when he saw his sister’s abduction and throughout the series there is evidence of how this haunts him, impacts him, and causes a single- minded work obsessiveness which puts himself and everyone around him in danger- without the series ever addressing it head on as trauma. Yet, it is apparent. Scully’s journey, also involves trauma. She is seen in therapy. Yet, her trauma reactions are often more subtle. Binge watching , as oppose to watching weekly with a summer break, works well with this series to see how the writers and directors address Scully’s trauma by almost obstinately not having Scully face the consequences,

Other

There are so many other topics to explore.

There are the tropes not discussed here – the better off dead trope, the special powers trope, the tough defensive trope.

There is the fact that every episode with a focused character with developmental disability has meaningful community employment and, then, to contrast it with Aubrey who may have meaningful work (or is it a volunteer job), but a completely isolated life.

Scully's journey in and of itself could be a book long discussion. There is an interesting parallel between first season episodes where she is looking at suspects medications and jumping to conclusions to the scene in the final season where she finds her biological son (who she gave up for adoption) medications, after suffering her own seizures, and suddenly having more sympathy and understanding. This is so typical in real life, isn’t it? Our perspective of the “other” changes when we or a family member experiences the impact of that otherness.

#x-files #the x files #disability

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reallyromealone · 2 years

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First off.

Don't judge me.

Second

Here's the plot for it.

Omega male reader x toman vs tenjiku but the gangs are demon clans and male omegas are the only ones who can carry demon spawn without dying or killing the baby so they are greatly saught after but due to the ability many people kill off male omegas after they present to avoid demons raiding villages and such.

Reader is an omega who escaped before he was killed and lived alone in solitude deep within a forest where he discovers a wounded alpha and decides to help him but oh no it's not a person per say it's a fucking demon.

Specifically Angry.

(Name) hummed softly while he picked from the fruit tree, the warm summer breeze nice against his skin as he wandered the woods he had down to memory at this point.

(Name) was a gentle young man, kind features and the prettiest (color) eyes anyone's ever seen.

It was a shame his village didn't see that.

(Name) gripped his basket slightly at the memory of his parents trying to kill him for being an omega.

All his friends and family.... Just turned on him.

He doesn't even remember how he managed to escape.

But it's been six years and he had done fairly well in his solace, now 19.

It did get lonely but he would rather be lonely and alive than social and dead.

(Name) was wandering, not particularly caring or paying attention when he noticed a blue puff just below the hill.

Angry was bloodied and bruised as he lay against the cool mossy stone, his body healing at a very slow rate.

He was going to be here a while if those holy humans from that temple don't find him.

Eyes closed he forced his body to relax.

Listening to the sound of nature he heard it.

The sound of twigs cracking and then the smell.

Omega.

Souya looked at the top of the hill and eyes widened slightly at the sight before him.

A male omega.

Holy shit.

Quickly he hid any demonic features before the other got close enough to see him properly and god when he got closer was he a sight to behold.

If he couldn't smell the human on him he would have assumed he was an angel of sorts.

And the smell...

He would die happy if that's what he smelt before deaths cold hands took him.

"Are you alright? Oh god you're bleeding!" The angel said as Souya felt himself get propped up on the other and the smell was intoxicating so close.

Souya let himself be hobbled back to the omegas little home and set down on a bed of sorts, the smell of the omega was absolutely devine around him.

"Let me get some water and rags to clean you up" (name) said softly as he went off to get the items, Souya left to look around the omegas little home and it wasnt anything particularly special but the nest in the corner confirmed his theory.

He was in the presence of an actual male omega.

Wild.

"Here drink this" (name) said coming back with two containers of water and some rags along with a wooden cup.

Holding the cup of water to his lips Souya drank slowly and droplets of water fell down his chin "you must be in pain, i have some wraps and herbs to help you..." (Name) mumbled before moving the cup away from the strangers mouth.

"Why are you helping me?" Souya was genuinely curious on why the omega was helping him, risking himself like this for an Alpha who could kill him or worse.

"Do I need a reason? You needed help and I was there" (name) said simply and began to clean blood off of the blue haired man "and do you promise not to hurt me?"

Souya was a bit thrown off by the omegas genuine care for him, he could smell the genuine want to help him and god was it strange.

But he would welcome the help of a pretty omega any day.

Souya allowed the omega to bandage and care for him, watching his movements curiously and wondered if the omega was this kind and soft to pups.

Souya thought he would make an excellent mother to his clan.

"You never told me your name" Souya said softly while watching the omega cook a stew for them both, the food smelt wonderful.

"You never told me yours either"

"Souya"

"(Name)"

Souya tried to grab the bowl from (name) but only for his hand to be smacked away "you're to weak, let me take care of you" (name) huffed out before taking the spoon and blowing on it and putting it towards his lips "eat please" and Souya would die for the smile (name) had when he opened his lips and accepted the food and by the devil himself was the omega good at cooking.

"So how did you manage to end up in the woods bloodied and half dead?" (Name) finally asked as they finished up eating, letting the Alpha drink water before speaking "everyone has enemies" Souya said vaguely, not wanting to scare off the sweet omega off.

"I can understand that" (name) said with a slight frown as he cleaned up their dishes and fidgeted slighly before speaking up "would you like some apples?"

"Sure..." Souya said analyzing the other who ran off to grab a few apples and a small knife before sitting back down.

What happened to this man?

Souya wasn't dumb to what happens to male omegas and put the pieces together fast and watched the omega gently slice the apples jp and cut away the core before holding a slice to his lips and gently Souya took it into his mouth.

He could get used to this honestly.

Souya spent his week healing and getting closer to the omega, learning more about him and his little hobbies and such.

And (name) learned more about Souya, that he was a twin and that he was from a clan of sorts and loved cooking.

Sadly the peace came to a close when Souya smelt the sulfur mixed with blood oranges.

Nahoya found him.

His brother was here.

Souya felt received as he slowly sat up off the bed, watching the omega who was asleep in his nest across the room before exiting the hut like house to see his elder brother standing roughly twenty metres away from the door before instantly getting closer and the worry was radiating off him in waves.

"Sou! Fuck we have been looking everywhere for you!" Nahoya said looking over his brother and smile off his face while he made sure the other was safe and sound.

Then he smelt it.

The sweet smell coming off his brother in waves.

"An omega?"

"One saved me in the woods"

"Why?"

"He did it because he could believe it or not" Souya said simply and Nahoya reeled in the fact that that his brother said 'he'....a male omega?

In these woods?

How did they not know?

"The others are coming, can't believe little sou sou found us a mate~" Nahoya said with a snigger before walking past his brother and into the small home and took a deep breath of the omegas scent before looking at the little thing before him, snuggled into his nest and sleeping sweetly.

"So he took care of you?"

"Changed my bandages and fed me" Souya said awkwardly as the two stayed just outside the omegas nest.

You never go into an omegas nest unless you wanted to die.

An angry omega can quickly become a feral omega if threatened enough.

"He would make an excellent Dame and mate" Souya said softly while the brothers waited for the rest of the clan in the very early hours of the morning and left to sit outside the door.

They saw the toman robes, black as the night with golden thread accents.

Mikey leading them with his head held high.

They must have been worried about him.

"You won't believe what our little Souya found!" Nahoya practically sang out when the clan got closer and the men looked at him curiously before the faint smell hit their nose.

"Omega?"

"Male"

Eyes shifted into a empty black amongst the men as they looked towards the hut.

"Unmated?"

"As unmated as they come"

"Wonderful"

Mikey walked towards the hut, the Kawata twins making way for the clan leader and honestly one of the most terrifying demons to walk the earth.

The door opened itself up as Mikey sauntered in and took in the scent of the omega before glancing around to see the poor thing curled into himself and still sleeping in his nest.

Cute.

"Hello little omega... Time to wake up for alpha" Mikey said softly as he waved his hand Infront of the omegas face, giving a soft smile when the omega made soft grunting and whines before slowly waking, the sweet smell radiating from the omega turning sour and foul when he made eye contact with the demon.

"W-who are you?!" (Name) snapped out as he pushed himself deeper within the nest and bared his teeth but Mikey was barely phased if at all as he just looked at the omega amused before letting out soothing pharamones and watched the omega struggle to not relax from the smell.

"Don't worry mate, i won't hurt you"

"Mikey we got a problem" Draken said bursting in and Mikey growled slightly as the omega fell out of the trance he was putting him in.

"What?" Mikey hissed out before walking towards the taller man and out of the hut where he saw the so called problem.

Tenjiku.

Why are they here?

"Hmm? Someone found the little omega first?" Ran said teasingly as he stared down the opposing group with almost a sadistic gleam.

"Back off he's ours" Mitsuya spat out with a glare, Izana just dead staring at Mikey before speaking "not if we grab him first" and that's when hell almost literally broke loose as the apposing clans went at each other.

(Name) was loosing his shit in his hut, moving his nest into his closet hastily and releasing the most foul of pharamones as his brain slowly regressed into it's most basic instincts and teeth bared threateningly at any possibility of a threat.

To many alphas that were invading his space.

Alphas that could hurt omega.

Blue alpha betrayed omega.

Alpha was a demon.

(Name) was in a panicked Frenzie at this point and became even more defensive when the front door busted open and the sound of fighting just outside the door and (name) moved as far back as he could and kept deathly quiet.

They were to close to him and his nest.

They invaded his home.

They broke his things.

(Name)s omega didn't like them at all.

And neither did he honestly.

"Omega~ please stop hiding from us" an unfamiliar voice rang out as if he were right beside (name), stressing the omega out even more.

"Please come out omega~" the blondes voice from earlier spoke out before the two alphas began bickering once more and (name) could hear them arguing about who he belonged to and something about a toman and a tenjiku.

Eventually the door opened and the light leaked in and (name) glared and bared his teeth at the two alphas and leaked rancid pharamones but the two payed the omegas anger no mind while staring at him like he was an angry kitten.

"Don't worry omega, alpha is here" the tanned white haired man spoke smoothly as he released his scent, like the other demon there was a sulphuric scent to what (name) would assume is his actual scent.

He smelt of warm bread.

If (name) wasn't terrified right now he would maybe enjoyed the scent.

It paired well with the botged alphas sweet cinnamon scent.

"Please let me in omega, c'mon baby boy" the other spoke out with a low rumble and the tanned man glared "piss off Mikey" so his name was Mikey?

"I'm taking to my omega izana, why don't you?"

The other was izana.

Now he knew the names of the alphas who he wanted to beat the shit out of.

(Name) just huffed and glared at the imposing men--demon---things.

Mikey got closer to the nest and (name) hissed him aggressively and swiped at Izanas attempt to get closer "bad alphas" (name) spat out and ignored the relaxing pharamones they produced to try and sedate him.

(Name) slowly came from his primal state and stared at the two coldly as they attempted to woo him with fancy words and promises.

"Why would I trust two jackasses who destroyed my home and my garden?" (Name) spat and the alphas looked around and realized that yes they had infact destroyed his home and belongings.

"Why would I even consider going with people who didn't even consider my feelings before coming here and trying to take me" (name) hissed out and the demons just stared at him before glancing at each other.

"Let our clans woo you"

"Whoever wins your heart gets you"

"Pardon?"

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #toman x reader #tenjuku #tenjiku x reader #omegaverse #male reader #dont judge me #it fit the plot i was going for #its been a rough week

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tenthgrove · 3 years

Note

Request : la squadra finding out their new teammate is a woman who pretended to be a man because she was tired of being abused, underestimated, looked down on and treated like an object just because of her gender.

Lady (Looks Like A Dude On Purpose)

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic/Romantic, SFW

Formaggio- Being so loud and occasionally a little intrusive, you were probably very wary of Formaggio when you first joined. Never having had a female teammate before, he tends to treat all new members like one of the lads. His endless questions about your life until this point definitely keep you on your toes, and you nearly slip up with your answers more than once. Finding out the truth certainly has him flustered, but once the shock has faded, he doesn't really treat you any different. At the end of the day, you're still the same person he befriended.

Illuso- He actually came very close to discovering the truth about you while snooping around in the mirror world. While there in your room, he found a chest binder you had left lying on the dresser. Still, he ended up assuming you were probably a trans-masculine person, and outing you on something like that is too shitty even for Illuso's standards. When he learns what is actually going on he feels a little dumb for not considering this possibility, but is still glad he didn't tell anyone about it as you still probably never would have forgiven him.

Prosciutto- Having been in Passione a very long time, he knows full well it's not the best place to be as a woman. When he sees how passionate you are on the issue whenever it comes up, he can do nothing but sympathise. When the truth comes out he is angered to know that you would keep a secret like this from your famiglia, but reminds himself that you're both aware of the risk you would have taken by outing yourself as a woman before this. He lets you know he respects your decision to live as a man, and will make sure the rest of the team does soon.

Pesci- Keeping such a massive secret from the people you were living with naturally made you quite anxious around the team, anxiety Pesci mistook for a kindred spirit. You quickly became friends and felt safe around Pesci due to his somewhat meek behaviour. More than once, you almost confessed to him that you were a woman but chickened out of it. It was him who got the dominoes falling that led to you being caught out- you were injured on a mission with him. He naturally took you back to the team to be treated and being unconscious, you were unable to protest as they removed your shirt to take a look at your wounds. Pesci feels guilty. If only he had been stronger, he could have saved you from being injured and then your secret never would have gotten out.

Melone- Following on from the mission with Pesci, he was the one who actually saw the truth first. Being the medic of the team he was tending to your wounds and thought nothing of undoing your shirt to take a better look at them. He really didn't mean to make such a big deal, but his shocked gasp brought the others over and then they saw it too. After the event he is one of the more curious about your situation, eager to know about your experience and how you managed to pass so well as a man for so long. He helps you talk through the pros and cons of keeping up the act versus going back to your authentic presentation. If you do decide to go back to dressing feminine (whether just around the base or outside of it too) he'll be happy to help you with rebuilding your wardrobe.

Ghiaccio- Personally, he doesn't see this as much of a big deal. Sure, you lied to them, but it was a practical decision and it's not like you, for instance, lied about your stand power or something. What gender you are doesn't matter to Ghiaccio. All he cares about is that you're not an asshole and you're good enough at your job to not be a problem to him. As long as those two conditions are filled, you're fine in his books. In the early days after you're discovered when everyone won't shut up about it, he yells at them until they do. Even if he says he's only doing it because he's tired of listening to them, you appreciate the gesture.

Risotto- After the whole fiasco with Pesci and Melone discovering you had female parts, Risotto sits you down for a chat. He knows that there are several reasons you might have hidden this from them, ranging from having a genuinely male gender identity to a well-misplaced trust of how the men in Passione may treat a female comrade. However, there's also a possibility you were lying about your identity for something nefarious, which is why it's important he clears the truth up now. Once Risotto is satisfied with your innocence, he expresses disappointment that you would continue to hold secrets from your team this long into being with them, but ultimately understands. He respects if you want to keep living as a man in front of the rest of Passione, and appreciates this would probably be the safest option, at least for now.

Sorbet and Gelato- They were onto you for a while before you got outed after that mission. Call them paranoid but they like to do some extra digging into teammates' pasts when they first join, before they welcome them into their friendship group. They found a few pictures and letters that definitely raised an eyebrow, but ultimately they didn't share what they found with the team because everything else they discovered checked out with the story you gave them. When the team discovers it for themselves they are quick to defend you. At the end of the day, you have to put your survival first and you were doing what you thought you had to to keep yourself safe. If anything, it just proofs how smart you are. Just think how good you'll be on undercover missions.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

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wildlyglittering · 3 years

Text

The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike.

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

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#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #the perils of being mr nesta archeron

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 3 years

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↝ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: y/n pinning them against a wall - prompt inspired by this twitter post

↝ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: kuroo x f!reader + sakusa x f!reader

↝ ᴡᴄ: kuroo - 1000+ sakusa - 900+

↝ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, aggressive behaviour-ish.

↝ ᴀ/ɴ: I’ll be doing this prompt for Osamu, Akaashi and Yaku too soon ~ I just like it a bit too much haha. also I edited this 3 times so if there are still errors, I am sorry pls ignore. lmao.

Kuroo Tetsurou

A low rhythmic hum vibrated inside of your throat, to accompany the track playing from your phone. Those who were fortunate enough to catch the melody trailing along with you, would often find a smile on their face. Between the tranquility of the sound and the bliss warping into your aura – your presence accidentally had an impact on many. Those in your university only knew you as the kind singer who would offer sincere smiles, free of cost. It was a reputation you did not mind adhering to – maybe it was better that they did not see the darker shades that coloured your soul. So, generally, a smile would remain sewn into your visage – unwavering until you were within the safety of your home. Where you could release the other parts of you that were deemed “not school friendly.”

Though, today your calculated barrier between the two worlds would disintegrate, due to the careless words of your best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Upon reaching the corner that would connect you to the hallway where your class room was situated, you plucked out an earbud and placed it back into its case. Since this was a course you shared with Kuroo, the two of you held an uncommunicated agreement to wait for the other before entering the room. The thought of your close friend twisted a knot inside of your chest with threads of adoration, excitement and hope. It was quite clear that your relationship was not merely platonic. The issue was that neither of you had initiated the first step to test the boundaries.

But you would try today. You would try after class.

“So, what’s going on between you and l/n?”

Hearing your last name, you paused before switching hallways. How many other l/n’s were at the university? It was certainly a conversation about you.

So the question was, who was the one posing the question, and who was the one about to answer it?

“We’re just friends.”

Okay. Easy. That was Kuroo.

The nonchalance laced into his answer fueled the flame igniting in the pit of your stomach, yet you continued to conceal your presence from the pair.

“So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.” Even without a visual, you knew your best friend would have added a shrug to accompany the statement. Somehow, that irritated you more.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped past the corner for your grand reveal. “Hi there, boys. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Tetsurou for a second, would you?”

Your sudden emergence had startled Kuroo, but what had his chest constricting was your use of his first name and the hallow laugh that was spilling from your lips.

“Uh, sure…”

It took you a second to realize who the other male was – he was an acquittance of yours, one you shared two classes with. One who was mostly forgettable not due to a lack of charm, but solely because he wasn’t Kuroo.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Curling your fingers around your best friend’s wrist, you dragged him down the hallway, not caring for the confused glances thrown into your direction by those around you. When you reached the area between the staircase and corridor, you gently pushed him against the wall before placing both of your palms on either side of him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you were quick to drown out his voice with your own.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Just friends? That’s bullshit.” The concoction of emotions weaving into your bloodstream had given you a headrush. But at the center of the varying feelings was fear. Because you wanted more than a friendship, and you were about to risk your entire relationship for that desire. You tried to suppress it, but over time it became overwhelming. And now – his words had awoken something inside of you. Something you could not contain.

The black-haired male blinked down at you, his irises moving from your arms walling him in, to the death glare your eyes were partaking in. “Isn’t that what we are, y/n? Friends?”

Out of the options available to him, Kuroo had selected the one for a coward. Or perhaps, he was testing you. Either way, your irritation with him had increased tenfold.

“Fuck you.” Lowering your hands on either side, you stepped away from him before turning back into the direction of your class.

“I wasn’t done yet.” A sigh left his mouth as he caught your wrist with his hand, tugging you towards him. Once your back aligned with his chest, he repositioned his arms to curl around your stomach. Heat spread throughout your entire body, and you were unsure whether it was from your anger or due to his close proximity. “We are friends, y/n. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be more. You’re right, it is bullshit. But I can’t exactly go around telling everyone in the school that I’m in love with you, now can I?” Feeling you become incredibly still in his arms, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against your head. “But if I had known you would get that pissed off so easily, I would have said something stupid earlier. Because pinning me against the wall – that was hot.”

“Shut up.” Breaking away from his hold, you spun around to face him. A half smirk was tugging at his lips, one that communicated how much he enjoyed the situation. “You are horrible. What would you have done if that guy asked me out and I said yes? Hm?”

“I’d probably cry and then say on to the next one!�� To further instigate you, he dipped an eyelid into a wink.

“Really. Horrible.” With your passion deflating, exhaustion crept into your muscles, bringing a groan to sound. “Let’s just get to class.”

“Nuh huh. We can ditch one class. Plus, you still haven’t said it back.” Tilting his head, he proceeded a step forward to close the distance once more. He then tapped on your chin, allowing your gazes to connect.

Inhaling a deep breath, a faint smile was presented towards him.

“I love you too, idi-.”

The remaining half of the insult did not leave your mouth, rather it was replaced with a muffled protest as Kuroo gently caught your lips with his. As you tried to break the exchange, he tangled his fingers in your hair, keeping you secure against him, before mumbling.

“That’s boyfriend to you.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

The repetitive interaction between the laminated flooring and the leather training balls had resulted in a dull ache in your temples. As the manager of a professional volleyball team, you were well accustomed to the noise but today, your patience was running thin. Practice had officially ended two hours ago, and yet your boyfriend, Sakusa Kiyoomi continued fine-tuning his serves. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you scanned the male for any indication of exhaustion – something you would have capitalized on, in order to reason with him. Except the outside hitter’s reserve of energy was far from being depleted. It often surprised you how resilient he was, he certainly did not have Bokuto or Hinata’s stamina, but that did not keep him from pursuing his goals. Whenever he would discover a new technique or target, he would work on it relentlessly. It was an admirable trait, one that made him one of the best players you had ever seen.

And let it be known, supporting him was always your intention. But at the moment, you were passing your own limits and remaining calm and composed was not an option. Between the throbbing on either side of your head and the acids chewing away at your stomach lining from hunger, you were seconds from raiding Bokuto’s secret snack stash.

“Omi, you’re done. Go take a shower.” After swapping your clipboard for a towel, you proceeded across the court, before offering it out to him.

The outside hitter stared at you in response, indicating that he heard your commands but was electing to ignore them. Returning his attention to the volleyball within his grasp, he began prepping for another serve. A sigh mixed with a growl rattled inside of your throat as you twisted the towel in frustration. When the ball landed on the opposite side of the court, an eerie grin stretched onto your mouth.

“Omi. You little shit.”

With each step you took forward, Sakusa intuitively took one step back until his back was met with the padding attached to the wall. You were quite aware of your height difference, although that did not matter. You planted your hands on either side of him, purposefully caging him in. Knitting his brows together, confusion swam in his dark irises.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? I’m not asking you to finish up. I’m telling you. We finished practice two hours ago, and I am starving. If you do not go into there and take a shower this instant, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You know what they say – you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” After gesturing to the locker room with your head, you squinted at him, attempting to seem menacing. However, you were only met with amusement.

“Are you saying you will eat me?” The question had Sakusa battling a smile. Was he really supposed to find that scary?

“We both know someone like you would taste delicious, so I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility.” Maintaining a deadpan expression while spouting nonsense was not a task for the weak – but after having countless conversations with actual idiots, you had mastered it. You would not provide your boyfriend any satisfaction.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His admittance of defeat was joined with the raise of his eyebrow, communicating that he expected you to “release him” now. You were about to comply with the silent request when he dipped down and placed a fleeting kiss onto your mouth. The sudden display of affection had erupted a volcano of butteries inside your stomach.

“What the …”

Leaving you there baffled, the MSBY player slipped past your defenses, smiling to himself.

Two could play at this game.

Later that night:

After gifting you an apology meal at your favourite fast-food joint, you both elected to walk home rather than taking a taxi. His fingers were intertwined with yours loosely, and since the streets were mostly abandoned, he had removed his mask, permitting his lungs unrestricted access to the fresh air. Now that your mood had elevated significantly after satisfying your human needs, you were ready to question your boyfriend on what occurred earlier inside of the arena.

“So, why’d you kiss me?” Kissing was generally an activity he preferred to engage in after showering. And therefore, you were puzzled by his recent actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze to the row of streetlamps that framed the sidewalk, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug.

“You liked that I threatened you, didn’t you?” A gentle laugh danced past your lips as you shook your head. That seemed to be the only explanation you could think of in the moment.

“No. You looked cute trying to seem scary.” He joined his retort with a scoff, although it was evident, he was suppressing any physical indication of joy.

“I am scary!” Resisting your urge to pout, you squished his hand to reinforce your statement.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Refusing to bestow upon you his full attention, his eyes travelled to the sky above. While he would not vocalize it, he found most of your antics to be ridiculously adorable. It was what he loved about you. And there was no denying that you could certainly scare others when deprived of food – but not him.

“I will eat you. Don’t tempt me.” A small pout forced its way to your lips to display your mild annoyance. Though, the emotion was easily defeated when Sakusa in a quick swoop, stole another kiss. This time, however, he lingered, enjoying the taste of your lips.

It turned out that maybe his rules around kissing required some amending. Because he wanted to kiss you, whether or not some of his pre-conditions were met. Guess that was a consequence of being in love.

Once he pulled away, he exhaled a chortle.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

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#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #kuroo tetsuro imagine #sakusa imagines

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

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Ashens (Part 7)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4,235 words

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Chapter Summary: Some of Bucky's inner feelings towards Y/N gets revealed on their first day on their own.

Full Masterpage | Part 6

STEVE was the one who tightened your velcro backpack around your small shoulders.

You continued to stare into the rising sun behind the blowing trees. It must’ve been a little after 5 AM, since the orange clouds were beginning to mix in with the dark blue of a new sky, announcing the arrival of a brand new day.

Today was the first day of your mission with Bucky, and to say you were fixated on your ultimate goal was an understatement.

The camp didn’t have a running shower, but they had a secluded and private area off to the side that provided warm water and some soap made with lye and lard. The water had to be heated up overnight by an attended fire and then left for an hour before you had to get ready to let it cool down.

When one of the girls had handed you the freshly made bar, the look she gave you scared you.

She had a certain fear in them that you couldn’t quite place and it shook you to the bone.

Was she unhopeful for your return?

When you had entered the little shower, which was just four pieces of wood tall enough to cover your most intimate areas, and you dunked your mud cup into the warm water, you definitely felt like you were being prepared like a sacrificial lamb.

You felt like you were being cleansed and prepared for death.

But as you rinsed away the lye off your skin, and you shuddered against the cold winter air which was beginning to feel like sharp knives, you quickly shoved those thoughts away.

You had to focus on your goal and what it was you were actually being prepared for. This was your opportunity to give your parents what they deserve; the outcome they would want.

After your shower, you quickly dried yourself off with a long and grey rag that had been draped over the “door” for you, and you slid your arms into your heavy coat.

Quickly, to avoid getting the flu that could potentially kill you faster than any other virus ever could, you ran into your tent and slid on your attire.

It was the same one you had worn before you arrived, but Jessica had been extremely kind to you and had it washed and folded stacked neatly next to your cot.

After you zipped on your boots, Steve had shown up and ran the information with you before your departure.

None of you knew exactly how life in The Capitol was.

There had been just one agent who had ever been close enough, and it had been about a year ago.

Bucky had sent Sharon to collect information that would be vital to help their mission, including how the people in The Capitol dressed, how they wore their hair, how they behaved, and if they used any kind of special currency.

Apparently, the clothing they wore, you would have to buy when you got there. It would be possible for the camp to try and knit them so that when you arrived you would fit in right away, but unfortunately, it would not protect you during the three-day walk to get there.

There was nothing different regarding hair or currency, which was a very helpful piece to learn. It meant you and Bucky would not need to go under any crazy makeovers.

Any specific makeup look or hairdo you preferred, you were free to do as you pleased when you arrived.

The only tricky part of getting into The Capitol and not being caught was your identification.

Anyone who resided within The Wall carried a hologram ID that presented your picture, name, resident number, and occupation.

If there was anything Tony Stark left behind, it was his knowledge and technology that had been left behind and protected.

You don’t know how they managed to save nearly all of it from the war and the bombing, but you didn’t ask questions. It didn’t surprise you that the avengers would go through such measures to have a legacy and vital equipment protected.

It had been just enough for Bruce to take it into his own hands and build an almost identical replica of the hologram ID that you and Bucky would need to present in order to do simple tasks like request a hotel room or enter an important building.

You didn’t take Bruces’ hard work for granted; apparently it had taken almost a year and a half just for him to make them.

It would still be a risk when you used your identification because even though your resident number was chosen with an advanced Linux method if it were to hit a miss in Hydra’s system, you and Bucky could be screwed.

Your arrival in the city would simply be accepted by luck.

Steve continued to tighten your backpack as he reminded you of what would happen when you and Bucky both arrived there.

First and utmost important, you would need to find a place to live. According to Sharon, there was a residency area not too far from the center of the city. You would go there and try to get a room.

Next, you and Bucky would need to discover your surroundings.

What was Hydra doing there? Where is Hydra’s main building? Were there anyone there that could possibly be there against their will? How did The Capitol work? What was life there like?

You would then need to set up your false identity, which would be the majority of the mission.

Once you both found where Hydra’s main focus was and from where they worked, you would need to find your way in. You would need to gather as much intel and information about everyone as much as you could.

That is when the team had presented you with an additional ID card, except this one was physical and just a regular white laminated card.

It was a resumé and well thought out employment card, which you and Bucky would use to apply at a Hydra Facility (but not the same one to not induce suspicion). This was an important key to the mission that both you and Bucky were reluctant on participating on, but after much consideration, it was concluded it was essential to winning this.

After you found out everything you both needed to know, after the six months, you would both escape and return to camp with the intel and information gathered that could successfully bring The Capitol’s society down.

One of them being the ring leader’s location. It would be important to the mission to not have anything destroyed, especially The Wall.

This was the part of the mission you did not like.

Because you would not leave The Capitol without having that man from the diner killed.

Part of you felt bad for secretly planning how to divert the avenger’s plan, but at the same time, you now knew that Bucky was also planning something that could potentially shock everyone.

You considered saying something to Steve as he made sure you had everything in your pack - food, blankets, med kit, and a gun with a silencer (the only thing you were allowed) - but you went against it as you remembered your promise to him.

He wanted you to help Bucky love himself again and to feel like he was meant for something more.

As you both walked out of the tent and fully into the outside world, right away you saw Bucky already strapping his own bag over his shoulder.

You know his bag held the same things yours did, except his held a military gun that would serve to protect you during the walk.

Unfortunately, you would not be allowed to take any weapons with you into the city. They would be left dug into a hole and abandoned.

Your heart skipped in your chest as you observed his dominating aura.

He wore attire similar to yours, except a male version. He had a black coat with a hood that strapped across the front of his chest. Attached to it was a hood similar to yours. You could tell he had layers of clothing under his jacket for protection, and his pants were thick and tucked into heavy boots.

A pair of leather gloves covered his hands. He was tightening the one over his metal arm when he looked over at you.

His eyes were dark and his teeth clenched as he looked you up and down. You quickly looked away and back at Steve.

Steve was tightening your tracker around your wrist.

“Remember, this will only keep you off their radar for ninety seconds and it can only be activated twice. You can only use it when you enter and leave the city,” you were in a daze as you felt the need to look up at Bucky again. The pull was inevitable, “Y/N,” Steve’s tone was sturdy and you blinked at him, “Got it?”

He looked at you apprehensively, his grip tight over your hand. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Got it. Just twice. Entering and leaving.”

He nodded and pulled the sleeves of your coat halfway up both hands.

He gave you one more look and then nodded with his head towards Bucky, backing away from you, and walking towards Bucky’s direction.

You flexed your toes in your boots and held tightly onto the handles of your bag.

You took a deep breath and followed Steve towards Bucky.

Bucky looked at his boots and flexed his hands.

You didn’t realize how much bigger he was than you until now. Maybe it was his clothing, maybe.

You cleared your throat and he looked up at you through heavy lashes.

You wondered where he had been this morning while you were showering. It’s then that you catch sight of his heavy and dark bags under his eyes. Had he been up all night?

“Didn’t sleep?” Your question comes out before you mean it to and Bucky’s gaze quickly darkens.

“No.”

You sigh deeply, not knowing if you were more annoyed by his attitude towards you that clearly hadn’t changed or if you felt bad. You hoped his lack of sleep wouldn’t create more crankiness or mess-ups.

“Unlike you, I don’t need it.” He adds. He looks up towards the sky, making his sharp jaw visible to you and you curse the world for making him so attractive. You wondered then what kind of boyfriend he was to Daisy. And you wonder about the rumor of him and the Wakanda girl. Did he sleep with her? Was he good? Your questions in your head are interrupted as he continues, “We should get going. The sun is getting brighter and we can’t afford to lose one more day.”

Steve looked at you both like you were his two children going off to their first day of college and then he saluted you both goodbye.

Not one word was shared as you followed Bucky into the woods until what felt like three hours later.

The entire way, he hadn’t been kind enough to slow down for you, so you trailed behind him by at least fifteen feet.

You didn’t want to admit to defeat, but your lungs were burning and your legs were too. It wasn’t until he briefly stopped that you thanked the heavens.

As you caught up to his side, you saw what he had paused to look at.

There in front of you was an entire city. It was destroyed, defeated, and reeking of death and evil.

The broken and sharp metal of what had once been pretty buildings were now pointed into the sky. Heavy dust with lingering smoke, that had never gone away, still floated above the city like a dark halo.

You swallowed painfully, thirsty, and afraid.

Sure, he was an avenger, but the bacteria...

You looked at him, unsure.

“Bucky, we can’t go through the city. We have to stay on the outskirts,” he ignored you, taking a step forward and commencing his walk towards the city. You watched, unmoved, “It’s too dangerous, Bucky, we don’t know what is in that air—” You finally sighed and ran up to him, pulling on the sleeve of his coat, “Bucky—“

He quickly snapped around to look at you, “We are going through the city. You think I came all this way for safety? You think I care? You think I’m some kind of coward? That we’ll just be taking the easy way out for everything? Or do you actually have any courageous and strong bone in that pathetic body of yours?” His words attack your ego and you practically flinch at the last question, slowly letting go of his sleeve. He’s breathing hard through his nose and you watch as he runs a hand over his face. He points back with his metal arm, “It’s the quickest route. We’re on atimed schedule. I don’t have time for safety or convenience. I’ll go alone if that’s what it takes. Come with me or not.”

He doesn’t bother giving you another glance before commencing his walk into the destroyed city. You practically hear the howl of the wind and you pull the hood higher over your head.

You consider his words. You were trying to be safer, but he was right. This would be the quickest way and it wasn’t like you weren’t at least partially prepared for this.

You took a deep breath and followed him.

Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he was momentarily shocked when he saw you right next to him.

He took the first step into the pavement, a dry leaf crunch under his boot. The sound echoed in the air.

You were both faced with what once was the main road, fallen traffic lights and power lines lined the street.

Cars were overturned, some destroyed completely either by fire or vandalism. The buildings, if they weren’t destroyed, were broken into and also vandalized. Overgrown shrubs were beginning to grow over the street signs and into the cracks of the sidewalk.

It was also terrifying how quiet it was.

You didn’t trust it.

It was obvious Bucky was reluctant just as much as you because his pace matched yours, and at some point, he had even pulled out his gun.

Your eyes darted around as you passed the empty cars and buses. One of the cars even had what appeared to be kids' toys - a stuffed teddy bear and a baby mirror - and you shuddered looking away, not wanting to know what happened here.

Bucky’s gun followed his eyes and immediately you wondered how long its been that he’s left camp.

“How long has it been since you’ve been outside like this?” You ask.

He’s quiet as you both step over a fallen street sign that advertised some kind of clothing brand, and you take his silence as an answer, giving up.

“A while.”

You’re surprised that he responded and your eyebrows shoot up.

You wait a minute and take another bite.

“Not used to it anymore, huh?” He doesn’t respond, “I can tell.”

“Is this your idea of small talk?” He snaps.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. I’m stuck with you for the next six months, might as well.”

“No. I’m stuck with you.”

You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes. Your joyous walk continues for a few more miles until you both turn onto a street where a train now lies.

You both stare at it, confused and surprised, wondering how the hell it got there. But judging by the entry holes on the buildings on either side, it was obvious that it had probably been thrown by means of an explosion of some sort.

And you would both have to somehow get around it.

As you approached the train car, you and Bucky came to a halt.

“I’ll go first since I’m heavier. Make sure it doesn’t topple over or isn’t booty-trapped.” Bucky says, tightening his bag strap over his body, “Stand back.”

You did as you were told and watched from a small distance as he began to climb into one of the cars which had its doors still open. Some bodies that had been reduced to skeletons were still inside.

You held tightly onto the straps of your backpack, apprehensively.

Eventually, Bucky had hopped out on to the other side with a huff.

He turned to face you.

“Your turn.”

You took a deep breath and a step forward, the leaves and glass debris breaking under your feet.

Your eyes met, and once again it was like that first time he saw you in the tent.

You looked down at the cart cautiously before stepping onto it. You clenched and unclenched your right hand, and with your left, you used it to help hoist yourself onto the train.

It rocked beneath your weight with a heavy groan and your eyes shot up to his in fear.

He leaned his right arm on the side of the car for support, and with his left, he stretched it out for you to take.

You look down to where he stood on the ground, and you swallowed, scared at how far the jump looked.

He wiggled his fingers and you were about to stretch your own arm out to take his hand when you saw something move behind him.

A man.

“Oh, my God.”

It was too fast for you to even recollect what happened, but suddenly you were on top of Bucky. You were screaming and he was cursing and you saw the silhouette of the man next to you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky shouted, until fully turning around to see what you were looking at.

He cursed before pulling you behind him to shield you. He ran you both back towards a destroyed building on the far side of the street and finally aimed his gun at the man who was groaning, a green/black substance oozing out of his mouth like foam.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, sending multiple gunshots into the man’s chest. He fell forward onto the street, dead.

You stumbled back and found Bucky’s hold on you soothing before he roughly pulled away and looked down at you, disappointed.

“Seriously?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose, feeling the dig of the building behind you.

How dare he snap at you for protecting him.

“You asshole. He was about to —”

“I don’t need you to protect me. If anything, you made it worst.”

“How the hell did I make it worst?” Bucky snarled, “What if I fell on him, huh? What if we both did?”

“But we didn’t!” You could feel your heart in your veins; in your head.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he swung his gun back down, relaxing his stance.

“Jesus fuck.” He mumbled under his breath, walking away from you, “I don’t know how you survived three years. It’s like it’s a joke to you.”

You feel your tears in your eyes before you push yourself off the wall and walked right past him so this time you were the one leading the way.

“I do what I can.” You mumble.

“Pathetic is what you are.” You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t. Your pace grew faster as he continued on, “You don’t—” he grabbed onto your arm, making you quickly turn around and face him. You didn’t hide the tears and you knew very well he could see them. He looked into your eyes with his pretty blue ones, “You don’t hesitate to save your own life,” he tucked your scarf that had come loose tighter around your face, and for a second you thought maybe and finally, he had a change of heart. But his next words killed that as he stepped away, dropping his hand, “We can’t risk getting infected. And I can’t risk you getting me infected, either. I might be a super soldier, but we don’t know how that thing affects people like me.”

Him. It was always about him and his safety.

“What about me? What about me getting infected or killed?” He took a step closer to you.

“You signed up for this. You know the risk.”

He walked past you.

“So I should care about your life, but not about mine?”

“What I’m saying is you need to be careful.” You were about to say something else when he finished with, “Now tie your boots before you get us both killed by you tripping onto me.”

With a snarl, you looked down to see that, indeed, your left shoe was untied.

Shit.

An hour after your fight, the winds grew stronger and your visibility was down to two feet. You hadn’t spoken to each other since, and to be fairly honest, it’s not like you wanted to speak to him anyway.

After the winds had calmed down, you had both made it through the city and were now walking through what had once been crops. Now it was just coarse sand and rough rocks.

You wanted to ask him if you could rest for a few minutes, at least to have something to eat. But you were so afraid of what he would say to you.

But as you both walked and walked, it became harder.

Eventually, you stopped, and he also stopped to look at you. Your face was crestfallen.

“I’m not a super soldier like you. I need to eat. Maybe have a sip of water.”

Bucky looked you down but then turned and continued walking again.

You wanted to cry.

Did he want you down on your knees? Would that be enough for him?

After a few minutes, you reached forest land again.

You watched as Bucky walked off to the left side and sat against a tree.

You wanted to cry in relief.

You practically ran to him, sitting next to him against the tree. You pulled off your backpack and he did the same with his.

You both sat there, chewing on some nuts and fruits and sipping water.

Afterward, Bucky threw his eaten apple into the leaves and rested his head up against the tree.

You took that moment to observe him, but not making it too obvious.

Your promise to Steve resonates in your head.

He looked so young to you that you began to wonder how old he was, biologically. There was no way he was older than thirty-eight. You felt pity that he suffered so much so young.

“Can I ask you something?” You know you were fetching far. But screw it. His answer, was a tilt of his head and a peak of a blue iris at you, “how old are you?”

He squinted his eyes at you, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know you’re in your hundreds, but biologically?”

He looked away from you and closed his eyes again. His mouth was in a straight, harsh line.

“A lot older than you.”

You bit your lip, looking away.

“I miss my life before this. I miss Netflix and Spotify. Damnit, I miss Halsey.” His expression is unchanged, “Did you ever have a favorite song? You know, before — before everything?”

He knows what you’re asking but he doesn’t answer you. Instead, he runs two hands down his face and announces that you should both get going again.

You’re disappointed.

You had quickly gotten over the fact that he would never like you, if anything he hated you, but you both needed to find a common ground of respect, especially if you would be spending this much time together.

But he still wouldn’t abide by you. It was like he just didn’t care. Were you going to have to show him your true colors?

Eventually, the sun was beginning to set and Bucky suggested you both should set up camp.

He built a fire using wood and a lighter while you laid down both your blankets. He eyed you over the fire as you put his blanket straight across from his.

He wanted to thank you but his words wouldn’t come out. He was still stuck on the question you had asked him.

After the fire was just right, he tucked himself onto his uncomfortable grey blanket and laid his head on his arm.

Your eyes closed tightly together as you tried your best to go to sleep. You folded your knees against your small chest into a fetal position, to keep warm.

Bucky watched you from across the fire. You were a good girl.

But you shouldn’t be doing this. You were the kind of girl that was supposed to live in the aftermath of the successful mission, not the one fighting for it. You were going to get hurt.

Just like he did.

And he hated you for it. You were so young and had so much to live for.

He hated that he felt so many emotions for you that made him want to scream at you and make you go away. He wasn’t sure what they were but he knew none of them was anything romantic.

He would never feel that way about anyone else ever again.

He turned around in his blanket and closed his eyes tight together.

He did have a favorite song.

#Bucky Barens #Avengers #Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x You #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes Series #Winter Soldier fanfic #The falcon and winter soldier fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #MCU fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Reader Series

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manifestoonmoralmanlove · 3 years

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What will be in my bag? Pre-ordered Manga. Straight and Lez edition.

Here’s a list of English-released manga I’ve currently got on pre-order, and manga series I ordered before but won’t be continuing with the series.

As a note: Some of these titles have been released but I have not received them yet due to a issues with covid backlog effected how things are released. I personally find that if you pre-order it tends to get you manga quicker. It seems there is more pressure to keep up with the new release schedule than chip away at the backlog.

I’m starting with the stuff I’ve already read some of and confirmed enjoyment, then stuff I’m shooting in the dark for, and finally series I have tried recently and have discontinued.

Heteros

My Androgynous Boyfriend

Story & Art by: Tamekou Publisher: Seven Seas

It is rare for straight shit to end up in my library but My Androgynous boyfriend is an exception that will surprise no-one since it’s pretty queer adjacent. This story is mostly a couple being lovey-dovey between jokes about sexuality and gender but (so far) isn’t problematic at all. The female lead is quite enjoyable as she’s well-balanced and has agency throughout. There’s even ace representation! It’s very low-stakes, wholesome, and sweet so far. (Volume 3 is set to release in November.)

My Excitement Level: The gentle about to sink into a bubble bath variety

Yuri/Lesbian

Even Though We’re Adults

Story & Art by: Takako Shimura Publisher: Seven Seas

Takako is also the creator of Sweet Blue Flowers and Wandering son. I have dipped by toe in to both those series. I overall find their writing kinda meandering and tepid (might just be me) but technically pretty solid. I am hopeful for this series since it features adults....if the title didn’t make it obvious. I was intrigued by the one character being married but the man finding out about the affair quickly and reacting more realistically and interestingly than the average male love interest in a Yuri. I also found myself relating at bit to Akari’s angst about being unlucky with relationships with women. I also do enjoy the artwork! This one is the most likely of my followed series to be dropped at some point. (Volume 2 of this manga was set to release in June this year.)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

For more click the jump!

Kase-san and Yamada

Story & Art by: Hiromi Takashima Publisher: Seven Seas

This is a series I keep going back to. While it is the very typical low-stakes bubbly, cutesy School age Yuri...it is a very good version of that. Just warm bubble bath vibes. (Volume 7 is set to release in February of next year. I think it was originally supposed to be released this May but was bumped back.)

My Excitement Level: The gentle about to sink into a bubble bath variety

NOW ONTO THE SERIES I HAVEN’T READ BUT I’M TAKING A CHANCE ON!

Adachi and Shimaura

Art: Moke Yuzuhara Story: Hitoma Iruma Publisher: Yen Press

This, as I understand it, is a slow-burn romance about two delinquent girls. I have heard good things about the novel and the anime series! However I prefer manga to novels and don’t have a funimation account so I went to snag it in manga form. (Volume 1 was set to release in February this year and 2 in September)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

The Girl I want is so handsome!

Story & Art by:Yuama Publisher: Seven Seas

The premise is a young lady has a crush on a handsome older girl who’s oblivious to her advances. When she tries to confess she instead gets roped into being the club manager of the basketball team that her crush is a part of. So it feels like it may end up cycling through 2 jokes and be so deep in the stereotypical manga bullshit you can easily-predict its beats volumes in advance. HOWEVER that is also a premise that is similar to Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun which is legitimately a hilarious series. Also I fucking love butch/stud/masc-presenting women/AFAB people. So I’m willing to risk “The same Anime bullshit” for good jokes and a cute lezzy romance with a beautiful butch. (Volume 1 is set to release of December of this year.)

My Excitement Level: Pretty nervous actually. I hope it works out!

Monologue Woven for You

Story & Art by: Syu Yasaka Publisher: Seven Seas

A woman gives up on a career in theater gets tangled in a relationship with a woman passionately pursuing theater. Since it is set between college age women, and appears to be about more personal and mature themes I am interested. (Volume 1 I BELIEVE is supposed to be released in February of next year.)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

Mizuno and Chayama (No page yet so far as I can tell.)

Story & Art by: Yuhta Nishio Publisher: Yen Press

Two daughters of feuding families meet in secret. This is by the same author of After Hours. I read a bit of After Hours and found it fine but boring since it seemed without conflict. Conflict doesn’t seem to be in short supply with a story like this! While I enjoy the sugary-sweet high school lesbian romances...those are not in short-supply. So I am always hungry for something darker, meatier, more mature. (Volume 1 is set to release next February)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

5 Seconds Before The Witch Falls In Love

Story & Art by: Zeniko Sumiya Publisher: Seven Seas

It appears to be a playful fantasy about a Witch and Witch-hunter who’s antagonism turns romantic. This may end up one note and stupid...but I’m always hear for queer romances set in high-fantasy and I haven’t read a Yuri where rivals turns to lovers. (Volume 1 is set to release next February)

My Excitement Level: Low-key

Catch These Hands! (No page yet so far as I can tell.)

Story & Art by: Murata Publisher: Yen Press

A former delinquent runs into her high school rival. After losing a fight to her she agrees to her terms...her terms being to go out on a date with her. I mean the title alone makes me want to pick it up! It may run afoul of bad anime humor, but I’m hoping with the fact that it’s full of gay adult delinquents that it’ll be a little different. (Volume 1 is set to release next February)

My Excitement Level: Medium-key

Series I have discontinued:

I’m in love with the Villainess

Art by: Aonoshimo Story by: Inori Publisher: Seven Seas

A woman gets reborn into her favorite Otome game but she wants to romance the villiain! I had heard a ton of great things about the novel but I picked up the manga version. (If the novel is totally different I can’t speak to it.) For me, the writing is ham-handed, the jokes flop 90% of the time, and the fact the lead’s only personality trait seems to be ~obsessed with a bully~ really dampens this title. Her advances are so aggressive and unwanted I honestly started feeling bad for a spoiled rich bully. I will say it’s saving grace is the fact that the lead is masochistically into the villainess’ tsundere abusiveness. For me I hate tsundere romances if framed like, “I like you DESPITE your insults.” It is only tolerable if it’s instead, “I like you cause you tell it like it is. I’m a dirty little pig. Please step on this bad little piggy!”

Our Teachers are Dating

Story & Art by: Pikachi Ohi Publisher: Seven Seas

Well one reason I stopped the series is that cover you see up there. The sex in this series is fade to black but FOR SOME REASON the 3rd cover has them both butt naked. But on a less superficial note, the story is about two teachers who start dating. And while cute at points, I was just underwhelmed. I think a part of it, is the fact that this behaves like a stereotypical high school romance...and while set in a high school...these are grown ass women not 15 year olds. So I have less patience with the, “Gosh when will I get to kiss my girlfriend?” bullshit. I mean, I would hesitate to call it bad...but it’s just not a good version of it’s brand of bullshit.

Breath of Flowers

Story & Art by: Caly Publisher: Tokyopop

Absolute train-wreck, this is hands down the worst Yuri I have ever bought. The story is nonsensical and all over the place. There is a love rival who’s trying to break the two of them up so she can get with Gwyn...but then switches mid-gear to put in a lot of effort to bring them together intentionally...but she also still wants to hook up with Gwyn...it’s very ???????????? The main conflict of Gwyn is hiding their gender so they can play basketball on the boy’s team (not well explained) is built up hugely and resolved with a hand flick. There is a melodramatic moment where a school nurse says more or less, “GIVE IT UP YOU’LL NEVER BE A BOY!” And it’s like “OH SHIT! The fact that Gwyn is on the basketball team is cause he’s a transboy trying to live life as a boy! Oh gosh it makes so much more sense now!” But the author seems to not even know that trans people exist cause the story bumbles along as if that scene never happened. The closest we get is at the end Gwyn is like, “Look I’m learning to do make-up on myself to make you happy lawl!” Which is I GUESS supposed to be, “NO NO DON’T WORRY ALL OF GWYN’S GENDER STUFF WAS JUST THERE TO MAKE THE MAIN CHARACTER SEXUALLY CONFUSED WHEN SHE DISCOVERS GWYN’S TRUE GENDER! HER TRUE GENDER IS 100% CIS WOMAN CAUSE SHE DID MAKE-UP ONCE! IT’S FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!” Like whaaaaaaaaat? And it ends on a very random scene which doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the story. Ugh just very bad do not interact!

A White Rose in Bloom

Story & Art by: Asumiko Nakamura Publisher: Seven Seas

At an all girls catholic school a young woman falls for a mysterious foreign student. I grabbed this cause it’s gay and I overall like Asumiko Nakamura’s work (she also does Doukyusei, double mints, and others.) However I was just not grabbed with this title. I just felt like I wasn’t getting what was making the MC pants on head obsessed with Steph. Also the lead’s mother tells her that she’s getting divorced and therefore will no longer have money to pay for the university and she’s framed like a super bad person for this. Like I get why the MC (a teenager) would think that something like that is THE END OF THE WORLD! But I remember them really framing the mom like a selfish bitch for this...when like...it’s well established that her mom and dad’s relationship has been toxic for YEARS and that they TRIED SO HARD to fix it. OH WELL! This might be good but it just didn’t grab me in the 1st volume.

I’ll make a post on the BL titles later! Take care and Stay Rotten!

#preorder #my androgynous boyfriend #kase-san and yamada #even though we're adults #Adachi and Shimaura #the girl I want is so handsome #white rose in bloom #our teachers are dating #breath of flowers #catch these hands #I'm in love with the villainess #Mizuno and Chayama #monologue woven for you #5 seconds before the witch falls in love

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shimmersing · 3 years

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Constellation

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Republic Trooper, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Republic Trooper Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Qyzen Fess, Yuon Par, Parkanas Tark-Lord Vivicar Additional Tags: Angst, Tython, Emotional, Mentioned Mutual Pining, Fluffy, Sad, Melancholy Returning to Tython after shielding the last master suffering from Vivicar’s Force plague, Aitahea is faced with more struggle in her efforts to heal the Order and keep the Force in balance. Tired, injured, and longing for someone she can’t have, perhaps ever, the lines of her responsibility as a Jedi and her own convictions begin to blur. As Aitahea nears the end of her quest to save Yuon Par and the other Jedi Masters, she’s confronted with painful revelations and answers that only give rise to more questions. Shouldering the lives and minds of Jedi across the galaxy – alone – may prove to be more than Aitahea can bear.

Part Two

“Thank you for coming. I have made all the preparations for the ritual to find Lord Vivicar.”

Yuon turned to greet Aitahea with a rueful smile. “I plan to create a connection between us, using your shielding ability. If it is - was - Parkanas, this should work. Drawing on your strength, I will invert the link between myself and Vivicar and use it to sense his location.”

Aitahea didn’t know the details of what Parkanas might have experienced, nor did she wish to know. She did understand that as a result of what had occurred on Malachor Three, Yuon Par and Duras Fain were the parents of Laranna Fain. All of the Masters involved had abandoned Parkanas, whom they should have protected, she realized in dismay. That’s what the Jedi were, protectors, defending the innocent and championing justice, weren’t they? What did it mean, truly, that Yuon had called Parkanas weak?

“Don’t expose yourself to Lord Vivicar’s influence any longer than you must, Yuon.” Aitahea found herself whispering a plea. “Please.”

If this failed, it would cost lives, Yuon’s and Aitahea’s surely among them. In the quiet moments after her crying had passed, she’d discovered a calm remnant of strength, her private conviction that being a Jedi meant protecting everyone she possibly could.

Focusing on these newborn doubts would not benefit anyone. Her trust felt shaken, but Yuon had never brought her to harm before.

“I won’t. For your sake, as well as mine.” Yuon sighed, resignation in the drop of her shoulders. “There are risks. For one, the shielding you gave me on Coruscant will be severed.”

Aitahea flinched. The shielding had become a comfort, perhaps not so unlike the Force bond that some Masters and apprentices formed through training. But as a shield and not a true bond, it was more akin to a signal she could check at will, adjust, improve, and repair as necessary. Aitahea thought of both Yuon and herself as fiercely individual in certain ways, and she’d never truly considered the implications. It had simply been so crucial, so necessary.

“I don’t know what will happen then,” Yuon continued, looking focused and prepared again. “It’s possible I could die once your shield is gone.”

“I’ll protect you, Master.”

“With your strength to sustain me, we will do what we can.” Yuon forced another smile, little more than a grimace. “No matter what happens, you must give me as much time as possible. Reversing the link may be a long process.” She knelt on the carpeted floor. Aitahea followed suit, while Qyzen stepped back to lean watchfully against a pillar.

“Let us begin.”

The Force wrapped her, whole and complete, and Aitahea suddenly recalled a childhood visit to an artificial sea on Coruscant. She’d been young; the memory was little more than a hazy sensation of warm, buoyant safety. Yuon’s presence across from her smoldered like the banked embers of a fire, steady and glowing.

Sinking further into the lull of meditation, Aitahea found herself adrift in the numinous experience of the Force. On Tython, with her own Master, under the watchful eyes of the Council, Qyzen’s comforting presence near them, in the safest place in the universe. All was as it should be. For a moment, she rested calmly in the knowledge that she had everything she needed.

Then Yuon’s gentle warmth grew abruptly fierce. An unnamable distress gripped Aitahea; the profound embrace of the Force around her shuddered. An unnamable something snapped, and Aitahea gasped aloud at the acute absence of her carefully constructed shielding. Her eyes flew open to see Yuon swaying.

“Yes, yes – it’s working. I can feel his mind and… uhhh… I can feel—I…” Yuon’s words trailed off, reeling listlessly for a horrible moment. Just as Aitahea was about to call her name, Yuon’s eyes opened.

Only they were not Yuon Par’s eyes. With horrible, sickening recognition, Aitahea felt the tendrils of darkness that she’d battled for almost a year once again entangling her beloved Master. When Yuon opened her mouth, it was not her voice that spoke.

"She can feel the power that she’s challenging." Yuon slowly stood, motions mechanical. “There is no hope.” Aitahea reeled back in alarm, and Qyzen hissed a sibilant curse. Vivicar laughed, examining Yuon’s body as though it were a costume he wore.

“Yuon has drained your strength and made herself vulnerable to me. Still arrogant and reckless.” Turning back to Aitahea, Yuon’s head tilted in a horrible parody of affection, her Master’s face a rictus of agonized delight. But it was Vivicar’s voice that uttered her name.

“Aitahea.” She shuddered but held her ground. “You don’t look as strong as you did last time we spoke.”

Inhaling slowly, Aitahea raised her eyes to meet the horrible, mindless stare in her Master’s face, thoughts racing to find a response. “I know your name,” she exhaled in a shaky whisper. Vivicar twitched Yuon’ lips into a smirk but offered no reply. Aitahea continued, voice trembling. “You were once Parkanas Tark, a brave Jedi. You could be that man again.”

“The past means nothing,” Vivicar growled, waving a hand. “All that matters is the future, which doesn’t involve you, Aitahea.”

She clenched her jaw at his mockingly familiar use of her name, restraining a distraught scream of please stop. It would only fuel him further.

“See how Yuon’s will crumbles before mine.” Vivicar threw Yuon’s head back with a laugh, casually plucking her lightsaber from her side. Aitahea felt frozen; she could not bear fighting Yuon again, not after Coruscant. But when Vivicar ignited the blade, the usual lively green replaced by unthinkable red, she stumbled back in incomprehensible terror. Every cell of her being shrieked at her to flee. Yuon’s careworn face sneered down at her with unrecognizable hate. “Fitting, that two of my enemies will destroy each other.”

Stunned into a blank, silent moment by the abject horror of her present, Aitahea observed her own motions as if they were saber stances, performed by an initiate in practice. Lightsaber hilt to hand. Ignite. Ready position. Block, but if the blade isn’t fully —

Aitahea was shocked to find herself pinned brutally against the back wall, the ruby blade just inches from her skin. Qyzen was already aiming, but Vivicar flung out Yuon’s hand and threw him to the opposite corner. Aitahea took that moment of barest distraction to send Vivicar himself flying, then climbed unsteadily to her feet and placed herself between Vivicar and Qyzen.

Vivicar drew Yuon’s body up, limbs dangling as though they were on strings, a youngling’s broken toy. Qyzen pushed to his feet again, growling a string of curses behind Aitahea, who hesitated at the sight of Yuon’s lolling head and drooping eyelids.

At serious risk of toppling over, Yuon bent unnaturally and picked up the saber that had tumbled from her hand. Aitahea could sense that Yuon had been knocked unconscious by her reckless, panicked Force push, but Vivicar still drove her lifeless body forward.

“Parkanas Tark, Yuon Par was your friend!” Aitahea dodged a clumsy thrust. “Did she never once show you kindness, that you can do this to her? Release her! Parkanas, please!”

Aitahea blocked a second inept strike, and for a moment, Yuon’s eyes cleared, her voice was her own. “Aitahea!”

Vivicar stumbled back, clutching at Yuon’s head and keening pitifully. Yuon’s saber hilt clattered to the floor again. Aitahea reached for it, only for anguish to pierce through all her shields, white-hot agony suffusing her. Distantly, well beyond her own tormented scream, Aitahea somehow heard Vivicar’s wail become Yuon’s voice again.

“It… It worked!” Yuon cried, her own eyes peering out from her spent, elated face again. “Listen, Lord Vivicar… he’s out in deep space, on some sort of vessel… the coordinates!” Her hands reached out, beckoning.

Aitahea, panting in the wake of the assault, looked around for the datapad they’d had nearby, hoping that it hadn’t been damaged in the struggle. A cluster of Jedi had crowded into the doorway, alerted by the unusual commotion. Aitahea found and handed the datapad to Yuon, who began softly muttering as she searched the galactic map.

“He’s surrounded himself with defenses. Send this. It’s his code. It will give you… time to get aboard.”

Yuon pressed the datapad back into Aitahea’s hands, then sank to her knees again, clutching at her head. “No—the darkness… Vivicar’s will is too strong!”

Over one shoulder, Aitahea addressed anyone who was listening, fighting an overwhelming fatigue. “Fetch the Council and a medic immediately!”

“Yes, Master!” came a chorused reply as several youthful volunteers scattered. A few others began to clear the hallway in a spurt of practicality.

“I can’t hold on! Please, kill me!” Yuon threw her head back, arching her spine, a strangled moan tearing itself from her throat. “End it now!”

“No, Yuon. You’re safe now,” Aitahea soothed, Qyzen thankfully at her side again. He lifted the datapad from Aitahea’s hands so she could pull Yuon into her arms, willing the shattered shielding back in place.

Excruciating moments passed, punctuated with agony that Aitahea couldn’t identify as hers or Yuon’s or a lingering effect of the ritual. It was tedious and exhausting, like the time she’d attempted to paste back together a statuette of Master Gnost-Dural that a youngling under her care had broken. Pieces had been missing, and she’d been unable to fully complete the repair. Now, she filled in cracks and breaks with what felt like pieces of her soul.

Finally, the shielding began functioning. She could feel every straining fissure.

Yuon groaned, shook her head, and pulled herself from Aitahea’s tenuous grasp. “The darkness… it’s gone.” Yuon passed a hand over her face, blinking as though she’d woken from a long slumber.

“I’m glad, Yuon,” Aitahea murmured, swaying. Yuon started, suddenly recognizing her former student’s distress. She grasped Aitahea’s shoulders, steadying the other woman.

“You—you look exhausted.” Guilt flickered over Yuon’s face like a shadow. “Aitahea… You have sacrificed so much for me.”

Aitahea offered a doleful half-smile, struggling to keep her eyes open. “The Jedi way is to serve. Vivicar should no longer be able to influence you, Master,” she assured Yuon.

Several Padawans rushed into the room and began fussing over Yuon, her keepers that Master Satele had mentioned during their first meeting, she assumed. Qyzen leaned down and offered a scaly arm to support Aitahea as she struggled to her feet.

“Your shielding has driven him from my mind,” Yuon said. Brushing off the exasperated Padawans, she caught Aitahea’s other hand between her own. “Thank you.”

Palm to palm, Aitahea sensed the delicate strength of her shield, already showing signs of deterioration. “Of course, Master.”

The Padawans rushed in as soon as Yuon released Aitahea’s hand. “I—I must rest.” She blinked, and two of the Padawans took her arms, making soothing sounds. “Master Syo and the Council. They must hear of what we’ve learned.”

“Herald needs treatment for injuries,” Qyzen added as Yuon was pulled away.

Aitahea felt utterly wretched yet single-mindedly determined to end the plague as swiftly as possible. They knew where Vivicar was hiding. They could end it all in just hours.

“The Council first, Qyzen.” Aitahea lifted her hand experimentally off Qyzen’s steadying arm, feeling the lump in her throat tighten when her legs quivered. She took a breath, then a step, and finally waved for Qyzen to follow. With a shake of his head, Qyzen acquiesced, staying a step behind her.

By the time they’d reached the Council chamber, Aitahea had reached deeply into the Force to dampen the pain of her injuries and the fatigue of conflict. It didn’t eliminate her agony, but it allowed her to focus long enough to deliver her debrief to the Council.

“The ritual was a success,” she began. “Lord Vivicar is out in uncharted space in a hijacked vessel, the Progress. He knows I’m coming.”

“Now only your shielding ability can stop him,” Master Satele said, the other Masters nodding their consensus.

“You’ve shown great fortitude and once again saved Master Yuon, despite the odds.” Master Syo leaned forward in his chair. “But Lord Vivicar will have made preparations, and he still has his greatest weapon—the plague itself.”

Aitahea took a tremulous breath. “I believe I can save him, Master Syo. Now that I know who he really is, I could return Vivicar—Parkanas, that is—I could return him to the light.”

Syo shook his head. “A noble thought, Aitahea, but don’t take unnecessary risks. Your shielding ability is our only hope.”

Master Jaric finally spoke. “Jedi, you’re exhausted. You need medical treatment and rest.” Qyzen grunted beside her in rare agreement with Master Jaric.

“There’s no time to waste, Master. We must move now, before Vivicar strikes back,” Aitahea argued. “I can recover en-route; I have a very capable crew waiting.”

Syo glanced at Satele, then gave Aitahea an reluctant nod. “Go to the coordinates quickly. And, Aitahea—may the Force be with you.”

Aitahea accepted the dismissal with a shaky bow, unable to trust her voice, and left the Council chamber. Qyzen followed, arm steady as he offered it to her again.

“Herald cannot—”

“Qyzen, we must,” Aitahea interrupted. “I’ll rest on the Luminous, Sia will manage the flight, and Tharan and Holiday can offer some assistance, I’m sure.” Qyzen hummed a skeptical agreement but said nothing.

They limped to the shuttle pad. Aitahea idly hoped there wasn’t a trail marking their path after she noticed the oozing wound at her hairline. No wonder the Council had looked so concerned; she probably looked a fright. With the coordinates already sent to Prelsiava onboard the Luminous, they could leave as soon as they were onboard. Then she would rest.

Qyzen mindfully guided Aitahea to a seat on the shuttle. She spent a few moments in unsteady healing efforts, but her grasp of the Force felt tenuous now, soaring thousands of meters above the sacred ground of Tython. Finally, Aitahea shambled on leaden feet through the orbital station to the Luminous, ready and waiting.

See-Too made a little stuttering gasp of alarm when he saw Aitahea climbing the stairs to the main deck and tottered over to fret as they ascended the stairs; Qyzen had kept her upright through the orbital station, but Aitahea’s fragile strength was nearly spent. “Master Jedi, we must get you to the med bay at once!”

“Kriffing hell, Ai.” Sia pushed past the droid, slinging Aitahea’s arm over her shoulders. “What happened to you?” she asked, dragging the barely-conscious Jedi to the med bay. Between them, Qyzen and Sia got her onto the observation bunk while See-Too went in search of Tharan.

Aitahea roused, seizing Sia’s sleeve. “Are we leaving?” she whispered, eyes briefly opening to squint blearily at the pilot.

“Got underway as soon as you closed the hatch.”

Aitahea sighed deeply, the faintest smile on her lips as she closed her eyes again. “How long?”

“Six hours or so, if I got the calculations right, and I always do. You’ve got to rest. I’ll get Tharan and Holiday in here to patch you up at least, bandage that head wound. Don’t give me that line you always do about self-healing.” She folded her arms, disapproval in her narrowed eyes. “You’re starting to scare me, Aitahea. Very little in the galaxy scares me; you know that. When does this end?”

“Soon,” Aitahea murmured. Sia sighed but didn’t press her further.

“You’d have been better off staying on Tython where they have a full medical suite, you know,” Tharan mentioned casually when he walked in, Holiday on his heels. He scanned a few labels before selecting a medical stim and a sedative from their supply. “Fortunately, See-Too has done exceptionally well keeping our stock current. You’ll recover quickly.” He unceremoniously injected Aitahea with the drugs, efficiently bandaged her obvious wounds, and then ushered everyone briskly from the med bay. Aitahea was asleep before they left.

Her wrist comm beeped; a call was coming through. Aitahea stirred but drifted back into stillness once the alert ceased to sound. A few moments later, the missed contact’s ID popped unseen onto the display:

Lieutenant Erithon Zale.

Constellation: Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

#swtor fanfic #swtor fanfiction #star wars the old republic #jedi consular #tython #barsen'thor #angst #emotion #fluffy #sad #melancholy #aitahea doing dumb shit

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moviemunchies · 3 years

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Imagine something like Iron Fist except a big budget movie and much higher quality--wait bump that, imagine what Iron Fist SHOULD have been, and you’ve got something very much like Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe does not have a great track record with Asian representation. There was the whole controversy with the Ancient One in Doctor Strange and the depiction of the Hand in the Netflix shows, it’s not been anything to brag about. So when Marvel announced they were making a big budget movie about Shang-Chi, and finally tying up that loose end about the Mandarin that Jon Favreau was building up to until Iron Man 3 killed that Plot with a sledgehammer.

And you know that’s kind of fair because I don’t know how someone would adapt the Mandarin to a live-action Iron Man film in a way that wouldn’t be offensive. I say that as someone who is not that into Iron Man comics so maybe I’m wrong, but it sounds like a pretty difficult thing to pull off. So how does one deal with it?

Why by putting him in a movie about an Asian superhero, of course!

In the comics Shang-Chi’s father is Fu Manchu and that presented a lot of problems in adapting to a wide audience: first, that Fu Manchu is an offensive Yellow Peril villain, and second (and probably more important to Disney, let’s be real) there are some issues with film rights with that character. The Mandarin is heavily based off of Fu Manchu anyway, so the MCU decided to conflate the characters. And actually make him not a Yellow Peril stereotype. And also make him a fantastic character.

Xu Wenwu was an ancient Chinese warlord who discovered the Ten Rings, armbands of unknown origins that grant their wearer eternal life and amazing powers. He built up an empire, and later a criminal empire, also called the Ten Rings, but was always after more. He learns about a hidden mystical village called Ta Lo and wants to find it to gain their cool martial arts and magic. He doesn’t even get to the door though, because the guardian Ying Li is able to beat him despite his Ten Rings. Wenwu keeps going back and ends up falling in love--he gives up the Ten Rings (the artifacts AND the organization) and marries her, and they have two children: Shang-Chi and Xialing. Except then Ying Li dies and so Xu Wenwu goes back to crime. He trains Shang-Chi to become an unbeatable killing machine when he’s a child, and when he’s a teenager sends him on a mission to assassinate an enemy of the Ten Rings.

Except Shang-Chi doesn't want that, and he runs away and years later he lives in San Francisco and works as a valet driver with his best friend Katy. It’s a basic life, but it has nothing to do with crime or killing people so he likes it. Except then the Ten Rings are after Shang-Chi, so he’s got to find his sister Xu Xialing and figure out what it is his evil father wants with them.

This, like the other MCU movies, is an action movie, but this is also a wuxia film. As a result it has some of, if not the best fight scenes out of any Marvel film. Definitely better fight choreography.

Shang-Chi is a lovable protagonist--I think had the film come out like a decade ago they would have gone out of their way to try to make him a Cool Guy type of character who is nonchalant about everything and made his entire motivation a designated love interest. Not so here! He’s a bit of a dork that would really rather be chilling out with his best friend. But he’s willing to risk everything to save the people he cares about. He’s likable, he’s relatable, and he’s fun, but not in a way that feels as if he’s some kind of sarcastic quip factory always cracking jokes. He’s a guy trying to figure out who he really is who just happens to be a badass martial artist.

Xu Wenwu is actually kind of a fantastic villain? I remember seeing articles and headlines claiming that he was a really well-developed and complex villain, and I wasn’t sure what to expect going in. People said that about Hela, for instance, and while she’s fun to watch she’s not all that complex. Xu Wenwu actually is interesting though. I will admit that it’s a bit frustrating that there’s another fridging of a female character in his backstory, but I think his character arc still mostly works and elevates him to being more than just a Fu Manchu villain that he might have been had the original angle for the Mandarin been kept. Yeah, he’s terrible, but not so much that you don’t kind of sympathize with him. I have a weakness for stories about twisted familial relationships, so I really liked his character and his arc.

I found Shang-Chi’s best friend Katy is a fun character, but that doesn’t change that her role is almost entirely comic relief. That might bother some in the audience. However unlike some comic relief characters, she isn’t useless dead weight--she contributes to the action in several scenes. Notably she’s established fairly early on as a skilled driver, and this comes up more than once as something necessary for the Plot. And she goes through her own character arc like Shang does, albeit with less development (which makes sense because one of them is the title character and the other isn’t). What I am afraid of is that a future sequel might refuse to develop her further and just fall back on her comic relief role. Which is funny, but there’s more to her than that.

There’s also Xu Xialing, Shang-Chi’s sister, and this is where the movie’s going to have some problems for some viewers. She’s not a bad character at all; she’s a great character. But her backstory--being the daughter of Xu Wenwu but not being trained as a warrior because sexism, so she taught herself martial arts, started her own little business, and can easily keep up with Shang-Chi--probably makes her a more interesting character to a lot of people, and that’s something I can’t really argue with. Which means that once again there’s a badass capable and interesting female character playing second fiddle to the male lead. That’s more than a little frustrating. I didn’t mind so much because it’s not as if she’s sidelined--she’s still an important character to the narrative and has plenty of really cool on-screen moments. But I understand that many viewers will take issue with this, and this is a recurring problem Marvel has had. There is a promise that she will feature even more in a sequel, but it’s not like Marvel always keeps its promises in that regard, and no one should have to wait on another movie to get full enjoyment of the one they’re watching right now.

And yes, this is a martial arts movie, but it is also a Marvel movie and that means that it’s very special effects heavy. You probably knew that going in, but I recall while watching the movie thinking about how there were several scenes that were probably entirely green screen. And some of them had to be, those that showed fantastical creatures and environments. I imagine that if it wasn’t a big budget feature heavy on special effects it wouldn’t have been made as a movie instead of as a television show on a streaming service. If you were hoping that the martial arts trappings would make it feel less like a Marvel movie (which I kind of was), I can’t say that this film does that. If you do like Marvel movies there’s a few little hints about what’s to come by the time the movie’s done.

Still, that doesn’t change that it’s a pretty good movie, with fantastic fight scenes, and a solid, likable cast of interesting characters who are fun to watch on screen. It’s still a Marvel movie, with all that entails, but it’s a solid entry in their cinematic universe that does something a little different--albeit not different enough to feel too foreign. I liked it. I had fun. I don't think it's a must-see unless you’re a Marvel fanatic or want to see their take on a wuxia film, but it’s a good time at the movies.

#Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings #Shang Chi #MCU #Marvel #Movie Munchies #wuxia

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goldenkamuyhunting · 4 years

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Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 256 “Tokushirou’s number one”

So we get a new chapter in which…

…yeah, Usami gets friendzones but as he’s happy about it and honestly, his relationship with Tsurumi wasn’t what I would call normal.... well, I guess this is all well and good.

So we resume from where we started.

After Usami got shoot by Ogata’s bullet he falls back and right down the stairs while Ogata gets a clip of bullets and recharges his rifle as fast as he can.

However, by the time he can approach the stairs and shoot again Usami has understood he has lost the upper hand and had escaped, leaving a trail of blood behind himself.

Usami’s wound his serious, as he’s bleeding profusely, panting and sweating and looking fatigued. Evidently Ogata has hit a blood vessel.

Knowing this could kill him and that he’s no more in shape to face Ogata, Usami decides he doesn’t have anymore the time to worry about Hyakunosuke (yes, he still calls him just by name, I wonder what kind of relation they used to have before all this mess) and that he has to hurry pass the skins and the info he collected to Tsurumi.

It took him a bullet that almost killed him to rearrange his priorities and understand his petty grudges weren’t so relevant after all.

Meanwhile, outside, Ueji is giving the firefighters hell by tugging the water pump and causing one to risk falling from the stairs. He also has knocked unconscious a firefighter and then begins to climb on their stairs, confusing all the remaining firefighters.

I guess the firefighters are really devoted to save lives so they couldn’t start waving those stairs really hard when he’s high enough and cause him to crash on the ground, possibly where the fire is. Pity.

Back to Usami, he has left the building and has spotted one of the carriages of the firefighters, and, more importantly, the horses attached to it which would grant him a fast escape.

At the same time we see again a scene from chap 255, the one in which Sugimoto tosses Ostrog off a window, remarking than rather than worrying about who gave birth to him he should have worried about what he lived for. This means this scene is happening at the same time as that one but it’s also a veiled remark to Usami who has dismissed Ogata as the mere son of a prostitute and ended up getting shoot by him… though I’ll say more than worrying about what Ogata lived for he should have worried about what Ogata could do.

But whatever, let’s go on.

Sugimoto tosses Ostrog out of the window, Ogata notices him falling and, below him, Usami running away on a horse.

I’m surprised Ushiyama, who was right below that window, didn’t seem to notice Usami because it’s true he was turned toward the building but he should have heard the horse running but whatever, it’s not relevant.

Ogata aims at Usami, saying that if Usami is really concerned about being or not a cheap piece he can discover the truth watching Tsurumi’s expression at his funeral.

Now, Noda does a really clever thing here.

With a clever trick of panels seems to depict Ogata as having a chance to shoot Sugimoto through the window.

Maybe he does. Maybe he does not.

Actually not only it’s unclear if Ogata could see Sugimoto as the inside of the place isn’t exactly well light but Sugimoto has moved away already from the broken window and is near the close window above Usami.

Now… there’s something that puzzles me though and that is how, when Ogata shoot, Usami wasn’t visible anymore, as if he had already turned the corner, something that’s easily noticeable when we place the panel prior to Ogata shooting that was on page 8 and the panel in which Ogata shoots on page 9.

See? Usami has turned the corner and therefore is not visible anymore.

This makes me wonder if it’s possible Ogata’s bullet actually hit him because it went through the broken window and then out of the closed window (the one near which Sugimoto was standing) and, from it, through Usami.

This would mean that the panels showing the windows above Usami and near which Sugimoto is don’t actually aim to draw our attention on Sugimoto, who’s actually leaving the frame but on the window at which Ogata is, visible through it.

This would be an hellishly impressive shoot because Ogata basically hit Usami without even seeing him (or even more impressive if he could actually see him through those two windows), and what’s worse would alert Sugimoto of Ogata’s position there.

I doubt Sugimoto would realize Ogata shoot Usami and not him which probably would send him in another drunken rampage as we shouldn’t forget Sugimoto is drunk.

I’m not sure though, the scene will be probably cleared up in the next chapter.

Anyway Ogata’s bullet hits Usami perfectly. I think it went through his spine as Usami falls from the horse like a broken doll, his legs completely limp.

Luckily for him he falls in Tsurumi’s arms as Tsurumi coincidentally got there right in that moment, allowing Usami to see his beloved first lieutenant for his last few moments.

Meanwhile Ogata, who has no doubts he had hit the mark, has moved away from the window and thanking Usami as he believed killing Usami completed him as a sniper. As he says so he removes the bandages that were covering his face to reveal… not a scar or an empty eye socked but a new right eye. It immediately turns out it’s a glass one though, as it escapes his eye socket.

I guess Hijikata paid for it as Ogata seemed to be bankrupted when he got in Hokkaido. Ogata, still in a great mood, grabs it and will likely place it back.

I guess he wore the bandages as a personal way to tell himself he was an incomplete sniper and now that he feels he’s complete he removed them.

To all whose who wondered yes, it’s possible to remove an eye without leaving a huge scar as it’s easy enough to pop out an eye from its socket. I don’t encourage you to try doing it though.

Back to Usami he hands out the copy he stole to Kadokura and tries to say something to Tsurumi about Kadokura.

I’m not sure if he manages and we just don’t get to hear it or Tsurumi cut him out. We’ll see.

Tsurumi, slipping into the Niigata dialect, praises him (Tsurumi and Usami are both from Niigata). It’s worth to mention that vol 23 changed all the dialogues in the Tsurumi/Usami flashback so that the two of them were always talking in Niigata dialect. This, along with the ironic fact that vol 23 got Usami on its cover, ties this chapter to that flashback and explains the conclusion of their story.

At the praise Usami raises his hand toward Tsurumi, placing his little finger against his mouth. Tsurumi takes it in and bites it off.

It’s the second time Tsurumi bites off a finger, the first being with Wada but, back then he spat it in Wada’s face (is Noda also about to bring back Wada’s death into the plot?).

Now instead he implied he swallowed it (although no swallowing sound onomatopoeia is present) claiming this way the two of them will be together forever and that, like this ‘Tokishige-kun’ will live inside him forever (Tokishige-kun being how Tsurumi used to call him in the flashback) as his number one… friend.

‘Kore de watashitachi ha issho-ra suke. Tokishige-kun wa watashi no naka de ichiban no tomo to shite iki tsudzuken dare.’

これで私たちは一緒らすけ。時重くんは私の中で一番の友として生き続けんだれ

“With this we're together. Tokishige-kun will continue to live in me as my number 1 friend.”

So yeah, Usami has been deeply friendzoned.

Well, actually ‘tomo’ (友) can also mean “companion”, “comrade” and, interesting enough, it seems that the word ‘uruwashiki tomo’ (麗しき友 “beautiful friend”) was speculated to refer to an homosexual relation in the past (though it’s currently not sure) so the word ‘tomo’ could give the impression of being something more than a friend to a Japanese person.

But whatever, I honestly don’t think Tsurumi had romantic feelings for Usami, he’s just using pretty words to put him at ease in his last moments.

Usami relies in the romance of the moment saying it makes him so happy he’s going to cum… because Usami is a man who knows what to do in romantic moments… as he does so he calls Tsurumi just ‘Tokushirou-san’ (篤四郎さん) as he used to do in the flashback.

Tsurumi than takes the pose of the ‘Pietà’ (“Piety”; 1498–1499), a work of Renaissance sculpture by Michelangelo Buonarroti, housed in St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City (which is beautiful but even more awesome up close, I can confirm as I went to see it and I recommend everyone to do the same), taking for himself the pose of the Virgin Mary while Usami is meant to be Jesus.

Please, let me shudder in horror at the idea… although Tsurumi likes to present himself as the Virgin which is highly ironic considering the whole discussion about immaculate conception taking place in the previous chapters. Is this Noda’s way to say that in a way it’s Tsurumi who gave birth to the Usami we know?

Does Tsurumi genuinely mourn Usami, whom he, after all, knew from when Usami was a child, in a time in which Tsurumi possibly was more emotionally stable?

In short, is Usami more than a cheap piece, as he longed for or Usami is feeding him another of his sweet lies because he has his men around and they’ve to think he cares about them?

Everything is possible as we should remember there’s another little finger Tsurumi took, and that one is the little finger of his wife. He apparently didn’t ate it but kept it with himself and she and little Olga are depicted as the reason why he became the way he is. So if he wanted to be one with someone I would expect him to wish to be one with them.

On another side, Japanese at the time differentiated the relationship they had with their wife with the relationship they could have with their male ‘friends’ so maybe Tsurumi might want to keep both.

I don’t know but I’m honestly skeptical about Tsurumi genuinely caring for Usami and it’s interesting how the last panel shows Tsurumi’s face completely in the dark as he moves close to Usami’s face, which is not smiling anymore. Is Usami dead already or he can still see? We’ll probably discover in the next chapter as Ueji interrupt the scene.

He managed to climb up a tall chimney and is calling everyone’s attention on himself… which would make this the perfect moment to shoot him. Ogata please, if you would? Vasily, you too, do something useful, please.

Anyway the chapter ends here.

Some last words of the pinky eating scene.

In Japanese the pinky is ‘koyubi’ (小指) the “little finger” and it’s a finger with interesting meanings.

The Japanese raises it to mean they’re talking about their girlfriend for example.

You’re probably also familiar with ‘Yubitsume’ (指詰め "finger shortening"), the Japanese ritual to atone for offenses to another, a way to be punished or to show sincere apology and remorse to another, by means of amputating portions of one's own little finger. That’s because the little finger was important in order to keep a good grip on the katana so losing it or part of it was a considerable weakness.

You might have heard also of ‘yubikiri’ (指切り, "finger cut-off"), the Japanese version of pinky swearing, often additionally confirmed with the vow ‘Yubikiri genman, uso tsuitara hari senbon nomasu’ (指切り拳万、嘘ついたら針千本呑ます “Finger cut-off, ten thousand fist-punchings, whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles.”).

There are also sources that suggest the term pinky swear traces its history back to the early 1600s to mid-1800s. During this time, prostitutes were rumored to cut off their pinkies to give to customers they like. This grand yet bloody gesture signifies that they have developed affections for the customer and are willing to take their lives for them… which would basically compare Usami to a prostitute.

But there’s also a more romantic meaning to the pinky and that’s that how the ‘unmei no akaī ito’ (運命の赤い糸 “red thread of fate”) which is supposed to be an invisible red cord tied around the finger of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation as they are “their true love” is meant to be tied to the pinky.

You’ve probably read the notes the scanlators put at the end of the chapter so you are aware already of what ‘Honekami’ (骨噛み “Chewing the bone”) is and how it was practiced in Niigata. Now you also know why Usami might have wanted to encourage Tsurumi to bite away that particular finger and it wasn’t just a coincidental choice... and why being friendzoned might not feel so bad to him.

Well, that’s all for the chapter.

In the next we will probably discover what Ueji has to say, if Ogata really shoot Usami through the window Sugimoto was near to and therefore got his full attention and maybe if Tsurumi really cared for Usami and if Usami managed to deliver Kadokura’s secret… or if Ogata will discover it.

We’ll see.

Anyway with this chapter Usami leaves the cast.

He’s the third relevant character to leave the cast, after Kiroranke and Ienaga.

While he didn’t grow up to be a good person, but he actually went uninged as Ostrog, in a way I’m still sad for the little kid with light in his eyes that didn’t get to grow up as a normal person but got so wrapped up in his crush for Tsurumi he ended up murdering his best friend in jealous rage and then never managed to recover his mental sanity. Usami never managed to let go of his obsession, he only became worse.

It’s sad exactly because it could happen and it ruins a life forever.

#Golden Kamuy #Ogata Hyakunosuke #Usami Tokishige #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Sugimoto Saichi #Michael Ostrog #Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories #Ueji Keiji

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purplebass · 4 years

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Alastair Carstairs and Charles Fairchild: Uneven Love

In this essay I will try to be as brief as I can about what it meant to be part of the LGBTQ+ community at the beginning of the XX century and a few points on why Charles and Alastair were an uneven/unbalanced couple. Have a nice read!

Being gay in Victorian/Edwardian London

Legality of Charlastair’s relationship

Uneven relationship

Before I start delving into this topic, I just wanted to tell you a few things about what it meant being part of the LGBTQ+ community at the beginning of the XX century. I will briefly tell you about Great Britain specifically because the story is set in London, but you have to understand each country has its movements of emancipation and its laws, so there are a few things which may differ. I will also just mention about homosexual relationships at this time.

Being a gay man in London at the beginning of XX century wasn’t easy, because if two men were caught together in compromising positions, they could be arrested and detained and accused of buggery or attempted buggery. There was a law passed in 1885 which condemned public indecency between males, and such law won’t be abolished until the 60’s of the XX century. The only places gay men were allowed to be themselves were the Molly Houses. Those places were like modern taverns, pubs, coffeehouses where they could meet and engage in sexual activities with other gay men. Speaking of Charles and Alastair, I do wonder if they met in such a place, although since the former is so obsessed with keeping the appearances, maybe not. Or maybe he went in secret, but let’s not forget that in 1902 Alastair was 17.

Why is Charles so obsessed with his image?

For one, homosexuality was the opposite of the idea of “manliness” in Victorian/Edwardian age. During this period, what counted the most to British people was their image, how they appeared in public, and being gay was considered as a deviant act, an immortal act which was the evidence of a corrupt morality. A Victorian family had to be presentable, impeccable - the public sphere had to be pristine even if the private sphere was not. Charles Fairchild is a man of the public sphere because he’s sort of a politician’s figure who was born during the highest point Victorian mentality. It’s no wonder he is concerned with how others perceive him, and he sees his sexuality as a threat to his preferred career, which is all about “manliness”. Remember before Charlotte became Consul? Even there we saw the sexism of the Inquisitor and other members solely because Charlotte was not a man, hence, she couldn’t be “manly”. Charles would be regarded the same way, this is why he decided not to be openly gay. But mark my words, sooner or later he will because that is an inner conflict he has which is at war with his outer goal.

I’ve seen people say that one of the first reasons why Alastair and Charles’ relationship was not appropriate is because Alastair was 16 and Charles was 22. Of course I agree. I wanted to check whether it was legal or not in the XX century, and I discovered that after the Criminal Law Amendment Act passed in 1885, the age of consent was 16, which meant that as much as I find it repulsing, Alastair and Charles could have a relationship and they wouldn’t be breaking the law except for the not so little detail that they were homosexual. Like I said above, homosexuals could risk a prison sentence.

I want to tell you more about this topic but I don’t want to derail from the purpose of this essay.

First and foremost, from the interactions we had of them, you could tell Charles seemed to have promised things to Alastair, because when they speak in Chapter 11 of CoG, the latter is pained and all of his hopes are destroyed. “But you said - I thought” that is what Alastair says. That is the realization that he believed in Charles and what they shared in Paris. Charles says he doesn’t make “false promises”, which means that he may have already thought that their relationship could not be more than what it was - a secret affair. Secret because the act was illegal at the time, and affair because it’s clear Charles might have used Alastair’s affection to fuel his own ego.

I’m convinced that Charles may have an inferiority complex. His mother Charlotte is Consul, the first female Consul. I believe he admires her because despite being a woman, she could get this post because she is also very able with her job. Charlotte is someone Charles looks up to and wants to emulate, but as we see through CoG, Charles’ regent job is laughable. He slanders James, he seems to side with Tatiana whenever he is concerned without having evidence (you see, Tatiana may have manipulated Charles into doing what she wants). This is not what a promising Consul does, and Charles probably knows it.

Then why Alastair?

Why, you say? For one, Alastair also likes politics. I hope he likes politics because he wasn’t influenced by Charles, but I’m convinced that is what Charles and Alastair bonded on; politics. I could see Alastair also getting into politics, by the way, but this is a chat for another time.

Alastair, 17 year old Alastair, felt confident of baring his soul to Charles when they started getting acquainted. He was also very young, I think Charles was the first person that he recognized also loved men like he did. He lived in an age were homosexuality was punished, the majority of gay men tried to hide their sexuality not to be deemed immoral and deviant. I think Alastair was ecstatic that he had found someone he could like and who could like him back, and this is why he decided to be with Charles. We don’t know when this relationship started, but probably after 1899 and the Academy. Maybe Paris in 1902 was the first encounter they had because they couldn’t see each other all the time, maybe they had been together longer… I don’t know. I hate that we don’t know the exact timeline, but we may get it in the future.

I was saying. In Chapter 11 of CoG when Charles goes to Alastair’s house, he reveals that he loves him. “I have loved you since Paris,” Alastair says, which, like I said above, makes it impossible to define if they just had Paris and Alastair fell for him from that only moment of connection (because they might have had sexual interactions there, maybe Alastair lost his virginity to Charles - these are just my assumptions, I have no idea if I’m right).

The Paris affair also makes me think about: “We’ll always have Paris”, which is a famous line from Casablanca. What does it mean? The only thing the protagonists of that movie can hold onto is Paris, since WWII broke and they can only have the memory of what happened in Paris because they can’t be together/won’t be reunited. Rings a bell?

Before I also add how prophetic it was for Alastair to find Thomas in Paris at the same moment he was waiting to spend time with Charles - because it was indeed a coincidence, but also how tricky fate is. Alastair was probably already attracted to Thomas in Paris, but he was loyal to Charles, otherwise… but this is also a chat for another essay.

Then Alastair and Charles kiss. The way Charles treats Alastair is very controlling: he doesn’t just reply “You know I do” when A tells him he loves him, he leads the moment and draws Alastair towards him for a kiss. Then they end up on the sofa, Charles on top and Alastair under him - which isn’t very casual, is also a way for Charles to control everything, because he knows fine well Alastair loves him and he’s indulging into the moment because he doesn’t dislike A, but he also doesn’t love him. Alastair gives Charles the validation he isn’t getting in his political sphere. (See a few paragraphs above).

Sex is also a way to exert power. We don’t know Alastair’s and Charles’s private lives in detail, but from the ways this scene is written, I can tell Alastair is the type who bares himself for the one he loves. Now that his heart was broken I don’t know what to expect.

Then they stop. Alastair is in pain because he longed for Charles. Of all the things he could ask Charles, what does he ask?

“What is wrong, Charles?” he said, his voice husky and rough. “If this is not what you came for, then why are you here?”

I mean, what? Do you know the heaviness of this sentence? It means that most of Alastair and Charles’ interactions as a couple might have been lead by sex or by making out. Why do I think this? Because otherwise Alastair wouldn’t say that - he’s basically implying that most of the occurrences between them started because of something sexual…

“IF THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU CAME FOR…”

It makes me so mad. So mad. Because it is clear to me that after the Academy, Alastair was devastated and also regretful of his actions towards the other guys. He also had to take care of his family. He also points out how he managed his household when his father was “sick”, how Alastair has been a brother and a father and the head of the Carstairs family for longer than we can imagine. I understand why meeting Charles could have changed his life, but Alastair is a giver, he gives a lot to those he cares about, meanwhile Charles is a seeker, he also wants to feel loved but he can’t exchange the affection the same way.

We can consider Charles and Alastair’s relationship dead and gone, anyway. Not only because Alastair said he was done and understood that Charles just wanted to matter (his words, not mine) and that he only cares about his career. In the scene I mentioned above, we also know that the reason why Charles came to Alastair’s was to inform him that Barbara Lightwood had died. Metaphorically speaking, her death could also signify the death of Charlastair and the moment in which Thomastair’s door was truly open to explore.

Now to conclude my thoughts - which I hope weren’t too jumbled - I’ll just say that as much as he unnerves me, I do think Charles could have a nice arc if played well. But, my dears, without Alastair. This is for sure.

Footnote: If you want to know more this, especially concerning gender, you can read What is Gender History? By Sonya O. Rose which treats different topics.

#alastair carstairs #charles fairchild #thomas lightwood #the last hours #gender history #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #charles and alastair #thomastair #alastair and thomas #tlh #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #tales from the shadowhunter academy #my edits

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catbreeds2 · 3 years

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Ocicat Cats

The Ocicat’s favourite actions embody retrieving toys and studying to stroll on a leash.

The primary Ocicat was created in 1964 when Virginia Daly, a Michigan breeder considering new and strange forms of cats, tried to create a Siamese with Abyssinian-colored factors. Daly bred a seal level Siamese feminine to a ruddy Abyssinian male; the next kittens appeared like Abyssinians however carried the gene for the Siamese sample. She then bred one of many half-Abyssinian kittens to a different full Siamese and achieved her aim of manufacturing an Abyssinian-pointed Siamese kitten.

The identical litter, nonetheless, additionally produced an ivory male kitten with golden spots and copper eyes, which Daly named Tonga. Extra matings between Tonga’s dad and mom produced extra Tonga look-alikes, and the Ocicat breed was formally launched. Daly’s daughter prompt the identify Ocicat as a result of they reminded her of the noticed wild cat referred to as the ocelot.

In 1965 the primary Ocicat was flaunted to the CFA and in 1966 the CFA accepted the breed for registration, however mistakenly listed the guardian breeds as Abyssinian and American Shorthair. Due to the error, new Ocicat breeders added American Shorthairs into their Ocicat strains for a short while, altering the physique fashion from Siamese svelte to a extra compact sort and including further colours not obtainable with the unique design.

Even with the early enthusiastic reception within the CFA, the Ocicat did not obtain Championship standing till 1987. A mixture of things have been accountable, the principle purpose being that Daly took an 11-year break from breeding and selling Ocicats. However the phrase received round in regards to the breed and shortly different breeders had been duplicating Daly’s outcomes and widening the gene pool. The breed has now gained in recognition and has a powerful following.

Measurement: The Ocicat ranges in measurement from six to 15 kilos Life Span: 10 to 15 years

OCİCAT CAT PERSONALİTY

Ocicats could look wild, however they’re truly affectionate, curious, and playful, and possess a really robust devotion to their human companions. Very smart, Ocicats shortly be taught to reply to their names and may be taught a wide range of tips, together with approaching command. Begging for meals is one other trick that Ocicats grasp with little or no prompting. They have an inclination to bond with just one individual and like that particular person’s firm to all others. They do get alongside nicely with different animals and other people, nonetheless, and recognize an animal companion to maintain them firm if left alone for any size of time.

Like their Abyssinian ancestors, Ocicats like to carry out daring faucet dances on high of your bookcases to your amusement. They’re an lively breed and require a great deal of house and loads of toys and diversions to maintain them occupied. Like their Siamese ancestors, Ocicats are vocal, however not annoyingly so. They wish to inform you about their day whenever you come dwelling at evening, however they will not bore you with each element. Additionally, their voices lack the Siamese rasp that some individuals discover annoying.

OCİCAT CAT HEALTH

Each pedigreed cats and mixed-breed cats have various incidences of well being issues which may be genetic in nature. Ocicats are typically wholesome, however they’ve the potential to develop sure well being issues. Progressive retinal atrophy, which results in blindness, has been seen in a number of cats within the breed, however it’s not regarded as a serious drawback. Some Ocicats have additionally been recognized with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, the commonest type of coronary heart illness in cats. Their Siamese and Abyssinian heritage can also predispose them to renal or liver amyloidosis and early periodontal illness.

OCİCAT CAT CARE

The Ocicat’s quick, clean coat is easy to groom with weekly brushing or combing to take away useless hairs. A shower isn’t mandatory. Brush the tooth to forestall periodontal illness. Every day dental hygiene is finest, however weekly brushing is best than nothing. Trim the nails weekly. Wipe the corners of the eyes with a delicate, damp fabric to take away any discharge. Use a separate space of the material for every eye so that you don’t run the danger of spreading any an infection. Examine the ears weekly. If they give the impression of being soiled, wipe them out with a cotton ball or gentle damp material moistened with a 50-50 combination of cider vinegar and heat water. Keep away from utilizing cotton swabs, which may harm the inside of the ear. Hold the litter field spotlessly clear. Cats are very explicit about rest room hygiene. It’s a good suggestion to maintain an Ocicat as an indoor-only cat to guard him from ailments unfold by different cats, assaults by canines or coyotes, and the opposite risks that face cats who go open air, equivalent to being hit by a automotive. Ocicats who go outside additionally run the danger of being stolen by somebody who want to have such an uncommon cat with out paying for it.

OCİCAT CAT BREED TRAITS

How is it that the Ocicat, a breed with well-placed leopard-like spots, was produced by breeding collectively two breeds conspicuously with out such recognizing? Properly, it is easy, nobody is aware of. The thriller of the Ocicat’s markings has spawned varied theories. One principle holds that the Abyssinian bloodline nonetheless retains a recessive recognizing gene left over from crosses with the Egyptian Mau, relationship again to when the Abyssinian and the Mau lived in the identical area. That is doable, because the Mau’s recognizing gene is considered recessive to different tabby genes. Nevertheless, the noticed patterns of the Ocicat and the Mau seem like totally different from each other; the Ocicat has giant thumbprint-shaped spots with a refined suggestion of the basic tabby sample, whereas the Mau’s spots are randomly distributed. One other principle maintains that the spots come from latent genes on the Siamese facet of the household, evidenced by the noticed ghost markings that can often manifest in older Siamese.

The Ocicat’s coat sports activities rows of spots that run alongside the backbone from shoulder blades to tail. The spots are scattered throughout the shoulders and hindquarters and lengthen down the legs, and huge thumbprint-shaped spots seem on the perimeters of the torso. The general sample offers the delicate suggestion of a basic tabby sample, a spot circled by spots as in a bull’s-eye. Just like the Abyssinian, the Ocicat is an agouti breed. When you look carefully on the spots, you will see that every hair has bands of alternating coloration with the darker shade on the tip.

OCİCAT CAT COAT COLOR AND GROOMİNG

The Ocicat stands out for his noticed coat, which supplies him the look of a small wildcat. The brief, easy, satiny coat is available in 12 colours, all of which characteristic darkish thumbprint-shaped spots on a light-weight background. Just like the Abyssinian, which was certainly one of his ancestors, the Ocicat has what’s referred to as an agouti coat, that means that every hair has a number of bands of shade (the exception is the tip of the tail). The spots are fashioned the place these bands of coloration meet. Rows of spherical spots run alongside the backbone, and extra spots are scattered throughout the shoulders and rear finish, extending down the legs. Damaged “bracelets” of spots encircle the legs and damaged “necklaces” adorn the throat. Massive, well-scattered spots seem on the facet of the physique and on the stomach. The tail has what appear like horizontal brushstrokes going ‘spherical it, typically alternating with spots. Markings across the eyes and on the cheeks make the Ocicat look as if he has been at work with a mascara tube. The brow is marked with an M (for mischief, little question) and small spots cowl the decrease neck and shoulders. Some Ocicats have traditional, mackerel and ticked tabby coats, that are stunning, however aren’t appropriate for the present ring. These cats have the identical nice Ocicat character, nonetheless, and make fantastic pets. The Ocicat has a medium-size to giant physique. He’s muscular but swish. Massive ears nook the modified wedge-shaped head. Some Ocicats have tufts of fur that reach vertically from the information of the ears. Giant almond-shaped eyes angle barely upward and may be any colour besides blue. The prolonged tail has a darkish tip.

Youngsters And Different Pets

The mild and playful Ocicat is properly suited to life with households with kids and cat-friendly canines. He can be taught tips, enjoys interactive toys, and loves the eye he receives from youngsters who deal with him politely and with respect. Supervise younger kids and present them pet the cat properly. As an alternative of holding or carrying the cat, have them sit on the ground and pet him. It’s probably that the Ocicat will dominate different cats within the family and will even rule the canine. All the time introduce any pets, even different cats, slowly and in a managed setting.

#ocicats #catbreeds #cats

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snowbellewells · 4 years

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Captain Swan Movie Marathon: “Carolina Moon”

Here is my second submission to the @captainswanmoviemarathon event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts tv movie (adapted from one of her novels) Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure on the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements. There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot, still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.

Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)

Chapter One

July 1993

The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acres. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.

Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting up out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Her friend’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment Rose seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon and Rose had held the newest entry in her favorite mystery series in her hand that she wouldn’t be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.

It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They’re willing to give each other at least one other person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror to practice batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness, a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea of the rest of her family’s opinions.

Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out on her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but it seems to be her lot, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.

It’s different when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until it passes, helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, and stay in the servant’s quarters, Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she had in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat, Graham, her friend and a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had taught her how to fish; it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.

This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes had seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts.

“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” none other than Emma’s nemesis Killian Jones crows from his vantage point on dry land.

Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at the quiet of their sanctuary being interrupted. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister shared little in common, she and her two years older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”

The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’d had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth in while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, now standing in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”

“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose and I’s hideaway, fair and square!”

“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.

The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and causes her gaze to cut sharply to the third member of the boys’ little crew, hanging back slightly in the shadows behind Killian and Graham as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman it is all too real.

She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all. Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.

“We could just take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.

Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line, whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.

Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.

However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption. Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.

Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”

Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her vision are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.

Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”

Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”

“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.

“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.

“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”

Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me. I’ll see you then!”

They part ways at the edge of the forest, Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home and Rose to the pristine, Jones mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…

Eighteen years later….

September 2011

The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.

‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for herself, to control her visions and use them for good, and was a special consultant for the NYPD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected other to leave the past in the past, she’d first have to manage it herself.

She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who’d stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then wasn’t her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight.

And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.

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#captain swan movie marathon #cs ff #cs au #carolina moon #chapter one #cs mc

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