#I love these characters so much it physically ails me. the fuck
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“why are you doing this” “because you were crying” HORIKOSHI WHEN I CATCH YOU . I’M SUING FOR EMOTIONAL DISTRESS
#OH MY GOD I’m in agony this is not funny 🧍🚶🏼#I love these characters so much it physically ails me. the fuck#SEEING THEM AS BABIES TOGETHER…#THEY ARE SO SMALL ANS INNOCENT#THEY DESERVED BETTER#bnha manga spoilers#bnha 418#mha manga spoilers
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Trouble
Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Dean pretty much hated you from the beginning. You were snobbish and bookish. He was no better in your book, but when you get hurt you see a different side to the salty hunter. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, fluff
Word Count: 3660
One Shot
Author’s Notes: It’s been a rough week guys, so here is a fluffy, sexy little one shot to make you feel better. It made me feel better…. but then, Dean always does.
Dean Winchester, the cure for what ails you!
Masterlist
Geronimo (sequel)
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his morning smoothie in one hand and his morning paper in the other. Sam loved a routine. The life of a hunter was pure chaos most of the time it was easy to become unbalanced, physically and mentally. The youngest Winchester discovered a long time ago that if he kept to a personal routine that he could ground himself in it. It provided a solid foundation to build his life on and to Sam Winchester, that was vital.
Since finding the bunker, it became much easier to establish a daily routine. Dean called it nesting and although he didn’t get up with his brother to go running, he too had his routine. Shuffle half asleep through the bunker until he reached the galley. Grumble as he filled his favorite Scooby Doo coffee mug with strong, black coffee. Furrow his brow and scowl at anyone who dared talk to him before he drained his second cup. Rinse, repeat.
Right on schedule, the eldest brother entered the kitchen looking like a bear woken early from hibernation. He grunted a hello as he passed, heading right for the caffeine. Dean leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as he took sip after sip of black gold.
After a few minutes, he looked over at Sam who had that amused smirk on his face. “What?”
Sam turned back to his paper, feigning disinterest, “Nothing. Rough night?”
“My night was fine; my morning was crap.”
Sam knew exactly what his brother was grumpy about but decided to poke at him a bit. Just for his own brotherly amusement, “Oh?”
Dean glared at his brother, “Don’t give me that, I know you heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“Damn it, Sammy… The damned Hallelujah chorus coming from the showers!”
“It wasn’t Hallelujah. It was Respect.”
“It was five in the fucking morning! If Aretha Franklin doesn’t come back from the dead and kill her, I will!”
Sam sighed. This was just the latest on Dean’s long list of infractions committed by their houseguest. Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Opposites in practically every way, which is exactly why they needed her to part of their team. They needed a fresh perspective, and you provided one that was both educated and creative. You weren’t a hunter, but you had a smattering of relatives in the life. You grew up knowing what was really out there and you took it upon yourself to stay informed. You didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find you anyway.
“Dean, just talk to her, like a reasonable adult. She’s really not so bad once you get to know her.”
Dean was already on his second cup of coffee, “I already know plenty. She’s a stuck-up, tone deaf, know-it-all who uses all the hot water. The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can send her happy little ass on her way.”
Sam didn’t reply. He knew his brother and this “protests too much” act, was just that. An Act. Dean had it bad for their new roommate and didn’t even know it. Poor bastard.
Dean glanced around the room, “Speaking of her highness, where is she?”
“Walking the dog.”
“Hmm, the dog can stay. I like the dog.”
The loud slam of the heavy, bunker door echoed through the halls along with muffled voices. One they recognized as yours, the other was agitated, and male.
They exchanged a what the hell look and immediately took off towards the commotion.
“What is this place? It does not look like a temple.”
“It’s not a temple, exactly. It’s a temple of knowledge, sort of. A home base,” you explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your patience was growing thin. Your clothes were torn and muddy and you ached everywhere. This morning really wasn’t going your way.
“It does seem secure,” the man allowed.
“It is,” you assured him. “It’s very secure. Completely safe, so you can just put me down…”
From the entry way came the voice of the most irritating man you’d ever met, Dean Winchester. “Wow, nice skirt.”
The huge, muscular man who held you in his arms immediately went on the defense. In an astonishingly swift move, he shifted you from his two arms and tossed you over his shoulder with one hand while he drew a broadsword from his belt with the other. “Stay back or I will cut you where you stand!”
Both brothers drew their guns and you found yourself in the middle of a damned stand off!
“Drop it, Tiny!” Dean barked, keeping his weapon trained on the giant that was standing in the war room. Seriously, the guy must be almost eight foot tall. He was big enough to be Andre the Giant’s brother and was dressed like an extra from the movie 300.
With you hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Dean could only see your backside and legs. Not a bad view, he had to admit.
Nice ass, for a prissy snob.
“Put down the girl,” Sam commanded. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
The intruder laughed then; a full-on belly laugh that shook his whole mighty frame. “Hurt me? You are weaklings, obviously suited to temple work. You know nothing of combat.”
Dean’s mouth quirked and he cocked his gun, “You’d be surprised.”
You were growing more exasperated by the second. The blood was properly rushing to your head now, making you dizzy and giving you a headache. Plus, you’d really just had it with the machismo showdown. “Just stop it, all of you! These are my friends, the ones I mentioned earlier. The warriors I told you about.”
The man looked skeptical, “These are warriors?”
“Yes, they are. These are the good guys. So please, just put me down.”
He made no move to accommodate you, “Friends, perhaps but they are no warriors. You would do well to entrust your safety to me, lady. I am the one true champion.”
You’d finally had it. You smacked his back sharply and let out a stream of rapid, scalding Latin.
The Winchesters knew plenty of the dead language, but even they didn’t quite catch what you said. Whatever it was, it proved effective. The stranger sheathed his sword, pulled you from his shoulder and sat you slowly down in a chair.
Red faced, you shoved the mess of hair out of your eyes. You sat a little straighter and tried to remain dignified. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is… Hercules.”
They both holstered their weapons. Sam spoke first, instantly fascinated. “No kidding, really?”
Dean seemed more concerned with you. He scowled down at you, his eyes darting from injury to injury. You had tears up and down the sleeves of your shirt that showed scratches still bleeding. Your right cheek and temple were scraped up and you were holding you left ankle off the ground at an odd angle.
“What happened, are you alright?”
His tone was gruff and impatient, and he frown was intense. You knew he didn’t like you any more than you liked him, but was a little sympathy too much to ask? You already felt like you got your ass kicked, you didn’t need to be scolded on top of it.
“She is injured and should be attended to at once,” said Hercules, his voice ringing with authority.
“I’m fine, I just fell.”
“I found her trapped at the bottom of a crude pit in the forest. Once I rescued her, I brought her to this fortress as she requested.” Hercules looked around the bunker in wonder, “She said this was a place of safety.”
“It is,” Sam said.
Dean knelt down in front of you, prodding around leg and ankle, earning a hiss of pain from you. You tried to push him away but were unsuccessful. You were tired now that the adrenaline was fading. All you wanted was a hot bath and a bed.
“There are about a dozen holes out by the south bend of the river. Not very wide, but like seven feet deep, the riverbank looks like a Whack-A-Mole game,” you explained. “He just popped up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me! I fell down one of the holes and twisted my ankle.”
“You never should have been wandering the woods unescorted.” The massive hero folded his arms over his chest and gave each brother a firm dressing down, “Where I come from, no warrior would allow their lady to face the dangers of the world with nothing but a useless hound to defend her!”
Macey, your clueless black Labrador, suddenly looked up from her station at the base of the stairs and thumped her tail.
“Y/N, why didn’t you call us?” asked Sam.
“I lost my phone when I fell down that stupid hole.”
Dean had heard enough. With a grunt of annoyance, he scooped you up and strode off towards the infirmary, “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”
Left with little choice, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck. You felt frustrated and foolish. You were supposed to be here helping them, adding insight, and providing expertise. Now you looked like an incompetent klutz who had to be rescued all the time. Plus, this was the third phone you’d lost. Add irresponsible to the list of faults.
“I perfectly capable of patching myself up.”
“Yeah, how you going to do that? That ankle is either sprained or broken. Either way, you aren’t going anywhere without help.” Dean gently set you down on one of the beds. He fixed you with a firm look, “Why don’t you just accept it without a bunch of static for once?”
He had a point, but you didn’t have to like it. That strong independent streak in you ran deep and had been reinforced by years of working alone. It had gotten you through every uncertain situation in your life. A small part of you felt that accepting help, even for something simple meant losing your hard-won strength. Of course, the throbbing pain in your ankle didn’t seem so small at the moment.
Dean returned with an arm full of supplies. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. When he reached for your right foot, you instantly yanked it back. His eyes snapped up to meet yours and he softened. He may not like you, but he still didn’t like seeing you in pain.
Someone doesn’t like going to the doctor.
“Y/N, you alright?”
You nodded rapidly, “Yes, of course. Sorry. Reflex.”
“We’ve got to take that boot off. See if its broken.” At your nod, he gingerly grasped your leg, “Try not to kick me, okay?”
“No promises,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady while Dean worked to loosen the laces of your hiking boot.
When he went to slowly tug at the heel, you yelped and yanked your foot back again. Obviously, he needed a different approach. “You know, maybe it’s not your ankle that’s bothering you.”
You blinked in confusion, “What? What do you mean?”
“It’s me. I make you nervous.”
Your denial was swift and expected. “No you don’t!”
He cocked an eyebrow at you, “You’re not nervous?”
“No. Of course not. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be due to you. Hercules himself is sitting in the library, another mystery dropped in our laps needing to be solved. If I’m feeling anxious, its only because I’m eager to get back to work.”
Dean shrugged, “I thought maybe you were worried I was going to kiss you again. Or maybe you were worried I wouldn’t”
Your mind instantly snapped back to that hazy day in the kitchen, Dean’s lips on yours as his hands tangled in your hair. His hard body pressing up against you as he backed you up against the wall. Every part of him that touched you burned hot; his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his breath as it mingled with yours. He ignited a fire within you that day, and it had been smoldering ever since.
You swallowed unconsciously and met his gaze. A mistake. Your cheeks heated at the intent you saw reflected there. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t given it a second thought.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, “Really? You didn’t like it then?”
Dean’s hand was back on your leg, resting there. You could feel the warmth of his touch through your pant leg and your heart sped up. “I didn’t say that.”
He grinned then, slowly. Dangerous and sexy. He leaned a bit closer to her as his hand slid up behind your knee, the contact unexpectedly intimate.
You took an unsteady breath, “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”
His eyes dropped to your mouth, “Is that a fact?’
“Yes, you do it all the time! Strutting around the bunker like your God’s gift to flannel, making bacon 24/7, and you talk through every episode of Doctor Who!”
“God’s gift, huh?”
“Ugh!” You pushed at his shoulder in frustration, “You are so annoying! Arrogant and rude and I don’t like you at all!”
The fire in your normally calm eyes was fascinating.
Man, she is fun to rile up! Such an easy mark too. Odd, given how perceptive you were in pretty much all other areas.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” In one swift move, he pulled the heel of your boot, popped it off and slid your foot out.
You dug your fingers into Dean’s arms and let out a stream of colorful curse words. “Christ almighty!”
Dean chuckled until he saw your face blanche, “You alright?”
“No! Why don’t you just chop off my foot, you sadist!” You screwed your eyes shut against the wave of pain. Now that your boot wasn’t keeping pressure, it was hurting far worse. “Fuck, I’m seeing stars.”
You could feel him get up and when you opened your eyes again, he was already returning from across the room. He held out three small white pills and a glass of water. You swallowed them quickly and downed the entire glass. You watched him as he cut away your sock and expose your injury.
“Pretty shade of purple,” Dean whistled as he ran his fingers over the already turning colors and swelling around your ankle bone. Ever so gently, he probed, searching for a break. “Alright, go ahead and move it for me.”
Trying to ignore the pain, Y/N concentrated on Dean’s face. There was kindness there, under the swagger and grit. The man chopped the heads off monsters, battled demons and fought evil every day of the week. By rights, his touch should be rough, hardened by the hunter’s life. Instead, he was the opposite. Studying his chiseled features, it became clear that Dean Winchester’s true appeal was in how deeply he cared.
“Good girl,” he praised when you wiggled your toes, “Any numbness, pins and needles?”
You shook your head when he glanced up at you, “No.”
“Good. Nothing broken. Looks like you’ve got yourself a nasty sprain.” Dean made quick work of wrapping her ankle. “How’s that feel?”
“Better.”
He smiled as he settled an ice pack on top of the wrap and moved on to the scratches up and down your arms. “Huh, yeah. Gotta love those little pills, they kick in quick.”
You tilted your head, “Those pills… Ibuprofen?”
Dean dabbed disinfectant along the cuts, “No. I don’t remember what they are. Had a few left over from when Sam broke his elbow. Guess it’s your lucky day.”
Y/N grabbed his hand, “Wait, so they weren’t just run of the mill, over the counter pain killers?”
He chuckled, “Nope, way better, believe me.”
“Oh, hells bells,” you groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What? What’s wrong? Are you allergic?”
“I’m a lightweight Dean, I don’t even drink! Those pills will have me knocked out in an hour!”
Dean shrugged and continued his work, “Ah well, there are worse things.”
You could already feel your body relaxing, though you tried to resist. Fighting it would be useless in the end; it was just the way your body processed drugs of any kind. Naptime, it was so frustrating. “What about Hercules?”
“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’m sure Sam already has it halfway figured out by now.” Dean dabbed the cotton ball over the thin scratch angling across your brow. Your glassy eyes met his and he had to smile. “You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”
You frowned at him, “Why do you think I never drink with you guys?”
“I just figured you were stuck up.”
“Oh.”
Dean could tell by the way your expression fell that he’d hurt your feelings. He could chop the heads off monsters all day long and not feel an ounce of remorse, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Words had the power to cut deeper than any machete or silver blade.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and rummaged through the bandage box. “It’s just you don’t really spend any time with us unless its working. Figured that was intentional.”
“Why would I force social interactions on someone who doesn’t like me?” You returned; your words blunt. “That would be stupid and counterproductive.”
“Fair point,” he grunted as he gently placed a clean, white bandage over the biggest cut. “I don’t not like you though. I like you.”
At this point, you were really having trouble concentrating. Even the tiny muscles of your eyelids were turning to mush. It was all you could do to keep your concentration, but Dean had been an ass to you since day one. You weren’t about to let this opportunity to find out why pass you by.
“Then why are you such a dick to me?”
“I’m not a dick! Not all the time.”
It struck you then, God you were thick! Your jaw dropped, “Wait! Is that why you’re a dick? Because you like me?!”
Flustered, he got up and packed away the first aid supplies. “Those little pills really are messing with your head.”
“I’m right! This is like the grumpy hunter’s equivalent of pulling my pigtails on the playground!” You grinned widely because you solved the puzzle, “You’re flirting with me!”
He returned to the side of the bed and looked down at you with an unreadable look on his face. In a lightning-fast move, he swooped down and lifted you into his arms. Your face was now inches from his, his bottle-green eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your stomach fluttered.
“When I flirt with you, you’ll know it.”
This time your gaze flickered down to his lips. God, I hope he kisses me again!
“I like you too,” you admitted, your words slurring slightly. “I guess I just like dicks.”
Dean burst into laughter and your eyes widened when you realized what you’d just said.
“Damn it! Not like that! I mean… I do like them… but…just,” You sputtered, frustrated that you ruined the mood. “Shut up!”
Dean continued to chuckle as he carried you down the hall to your room. You grew heavier as you relaxed in his grasp, and you rested your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Those happy, little pills nearly had you asleep in his arms. Not that he minded, you fit surprisingly well there. And you smelled amazing. It was that expensive perfume you wore, light and clean. It made his mouth water.
“I’m making your coffee Irish tomorrow; you are one funny drunk.”
You only hummed in response. He nudged the door to your room open with his hip and laid you down on your neatly made bed. He took one of your throw pillows and propped up your wrapped ankle before removing the boot from your other foot.
Your eyes fluttered back open when he took the spare quilt from your chair and tucked it around you. Your smile was soft as you grasped his hand and tugged him down to sit beside you on the bed.
“You got everything you need, Sweetheart?”
You nodded while your thumb traced patterns across his knuckles. “Thank you, Dean. For taking care of me.”
He leaned down and kissed your forehead. A delightful combination of warm, soft lips and prickly stubble. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Just as he was about to pull away, you angled your head up and caught his lips in a kiss. He was surprised but quickly smiled into it. Different than the kiss you shared in the kitchen; this one wasn’t hurried. It was gentle and exploratory, like a flower slowly opening up to the light of the sun. Dean had never received a kiss so tender. You kissed him like you meant it in your heart. It made him feel, special. Cherished.
When you finally drew back and let your head fall back against the pillow, you saw the look of pure astonishment on his face. You smiled, your eyes half-mast. “I feel better now.”
He brushed the hair back from your face, letting his fingers run through the silky strands. You were already drifting off; he shook his head. “Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”
“Dunno,” you murmured, finally letting sleep take you. “But you will.”
Dean sat there for several minutes, considering your words as your breathing evened out and became slow and deep. He did like you, far more than he should. You weren’t his type at all. You were prim and proper. You valued intelligent conversation and musty library books. You drank chamomile tea and wore fancy clothes. If anything, you were more Sam’s type. Classy. Ladylike. In that moment, the salty hunter realized two things. One, he wondered just how ladylike you were going to be lying naked beneath him. And two, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean winchester#jensen x reader#jensen x y/n#jensen ackles#supernatural#spn fic#Trouble
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Trouble
Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Dean pretty much hated you from the beginning. You were snobbish and bookish. He was no better in your book, but when you get hurt you see a different side to the salty hunter. Maybe he isn't so bad after all...
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, fluff
Word Count: 3660
One Shot
Author’s Notes: It's been a rough week guys, so here is a fluffy, sexy little one shot to make you feel better. It made me feel better.... but then, Dean always does.
Dean Winchester, the cure for what ails you!
Masterlist
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his morning smoothie in one hand and his morning paper in the other. Sam loved a routine. The life of a hunter was pure chaos most of the time it was easy to become unbalanced, physically and mentally. The youngest Winchester discovered a long time ago that if he kept to a personal routine that he could ground himself in it. It provided a solid foundation to build his life on and to Sam Winchester, that was vital.
Since finding the bunker, it became much easier to establish a daily routine. Dean called it nesting and although he didn’t get up with his brother to go running, he too had his routine. Shuffle half asleep through the bunker until he reached the galley. Grumble as he filled his favorite Scooby Doo coffee mug with strong, black coffee. Furrow his brow and scowl at anyone who dared talk to him before he drained his second cup. Rinse, repeat.
Right on schedule, the eldest brother entered the kitchen looking like a bear woken early from hibernation. He grunted a hello as he passed, heading right for the caffeine. Dean leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as he took sip after sip of black gold.
After a few minutes, he looked over at Sam who had that amused smirk on his face. “What?”
Sam turned back to his paper, feigning disinterest, “Nothing. Rough night?”
“My night was fine; my morning was crap.”
Sam knew exactly what his brother was grumpy about but decided to poke at him a bit. Just for his own brotherly amusement, “Oh?”
Dean glared at his brother, “Don’t give me that, I know you heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“Damn it, Sammy… The damned Hallelujah chorus coming from the showers!”
“It wasn’t Hallelujah. It was Respect.”
“It was five in the fucking morning! If Aretha Franklin doesn’t come back from the dead and kill her, I will!”
Sam sighed. This was just the latest on Dean’s long list of infractions committed by their houseguest. Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Opposites in practically every way, which is exactly why they needed her to part of their team. They needed a fresh perspective, and you provided one that was both educated and creative. You weren’t a hunter, but you had a smattering of relatives in the life. You grew up knowing what was really out there and you took it upon yourself to stay informed. You didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find you anyway.
“Dean, just talk to her, like a reasonable adult. She’s really not so bad once you get to know her.”
Dean was already on his second cup of coffee, “I already know plenty. She’s a stuck-up, tone deaf, know-it-all who uses all the hot water. The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can send her happy little ass on her way.”
Sam didn’t reply. He knew his brother and this “protests too much” act, was just that. An Act. Dean had it bad for their new roommate and didn’t even know it. Poor bastard.
Dean glanced around the room, “Speaking of her highness, where is she?”
“Walking the dog.”
“Hmm, the dog can stay. I like the dog.”
The loud slam of the heavy, bunker door echoed through the halls along with muffled voices. One they recognized as yours, the other was agitated, and male.
They exchanged a what the hell look and immediately took off towards the commotion.
“What is this place? It does not look like a temple.”
“It’s not a temple, exactly. It’s a temple of knowledge, sort of. A home base,” you explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your patience was growing thin. Your clothes were torn and muddy and you ached everywhere. This morning really wasn’t going your way.
“It does seem secure,” the man allowed.
“It is,” you assured him. “It’s very secure. Completely safe, so you can just put me down…”
From the entry way came the voice of the most irritating man you’d ever met, Dean Winchester. “Wow, nice skirt.”
The huge, muscular man who held you in his arms immediately went on the defense. In an astonishingly swift move, he shifted you from his two arms and tossed you over his shoulder with one hand while he drew a broadsword from his belt with the other. “Stay back or I will cut you where you stand!”
Both brothers drew their guns and you found yourself in the middle of a damned stand off!
“Drop it, Tiny!” Dean barked, keeping his weapon trained on the giant that was standing in the war room. Seriously, the guy must be almost eight foot tall. He was big enough to be Andre the Giant’s brother and was dressed like an extra from the movie 300.
With you hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Dean could only see your backside and legs. Not a bad view, he had to admit.
Nice ass, for a prissy snob.
“Put down the girl,” Sam commanded. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
The intruder laughed then; a full-on belly laugh that shook his whole mighty frame. “Hurt me? You are weaklings, obviously suited to temple work. You know nothing of combat.”
Dean’s mouth quirked and he cocked his gun, “You’d be surprised.”
You were growing more exasperated by the second. The blood was properly rushing to your head now, making you dizzy and giving you a headache. Plus, you’d really just had it with the machismo showdown. “Just stop it, all of you! These are my friends, the ones I mentioned earlier. The warriors I told you about.”
The man looked skeptical, “These are warriors?”
“Yes, they are. These are the good guys. So please, just put me down.”
He made no move to accommodate you, “Friends, perhaps but they are no warriors. You would do well to entrust your safety to me, lady. I am the one true champion.”
You’d finally had it. You smacked his back sharply and let out a stream of rapid, scalding Latin.
The Winchesters knew plenty of the dead language, but even they didn’t quite catch what you said. Whatever it was, it proved effective. The stranger sheathed his sword, pulled you from his shoulder and sat you slowly down in a chair.
Red faced, you shoved the mess of hair out of your eyes. You sat a little straighter and tried to remain dignified. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is… Hercules.”
They both holstered their weapons. Sam spoke first, instantly fascinated. “No kidding, really?”
Dean seemed more concerned with you. He scowled down at you, his eyes darting from injury to injury. You had tears up and down the sleeves of your shirt that showed scratches still bleeding. Your right cheek and temple were scraped up and you were holding you left ankle off the ground at an odd angle.
“What happened, are you alright?”
His tone was gruff and impatient, and he frown was intense. You knew he didn’t like you any more than you liked him, but was a little sympathy too much to ask? You already felt like you got your ass kicked, you didn’t need to be scolded on top of it.
“She is injured and should be attended to at once,” said Hercules, his voice ringing with authority.
“I’m fine, I just fell.”
“I found her trapped at the bottom of a crude pit in the forest. Once I rescued her, I brought her to this fortress as she requested.” Hercules looked around the bunker in wonder, “She said this was a place of safety.”
“It is,” Sam said.
Dean knelt down in front of you, prodding around leg and ankle, earning a hiss of pain from you. You tried to push him away but were unsuccessful. You were tired now that the adrenaline was fading. All you wanted was a hot bath and a bed.
“There are about a dozen holes out by the south bend of the river. Not very wide, but like seven feet deep, the riverbank looks like a Whack-A-Mole game,” you explained. “He just popped up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me! I fell down one of the holes and twisted my ankle.”
“You never should have been wandering the woods unescorted.” The massive hero folded his arms over his chest and gave each brother a firm dressing down, “Where I come from, no warrior would allow their lady to face the dangers of the world with nothing but a useless hound to defend her!”
Macey, your clueless black Labrador, suddenly looked up from her station at the base of the stairs and thumped her tail.
“Y/N, why didn’t you call us?” asked Sam.
“I lost my phone when I fell down that stupid hole.”
Dean had heard enough. With a grunt of annoyance, he scooped you up and strode off towards the infirmary, “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”
Left with little choice, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck. You felt frustrated and foolish. You were supposed to be here helping them, adding insight, and providing expertise. Now you looked like an incompetent klutz who had to be rescued all the time. Plus, this was the third phone you’d lost. Add irresponsible to the list of faults.
“I perfectly capable of patching myself up.”
“Yeah, how you going to do that? That ankle is either sprained or broken. Either way, you aren’t going anywhere without help.” Dean gently set you down on one of the beds. He fixed you with a firm look, “Why don’t you just accept it without a bunch of static for once?”
He had a point, but you didn’t have to like it. That strong independent streak in you ran deep and had been reinforced by years of working alone. It had gotten you through every uncertain situation in your life. A small part of you felt that accepting help, even for something simple meant losing your hard-won strength. Of course, the throbbing pain in your ankle didn’t seem so small at the moment.
Dean returned with an arm full of supplies. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. When he reached for your right foot, you instantly yanked it back. His eyes snapped up to meet yours and he softened. He may not like you, but he still didn’t like seeing you in pain.
Someone doesn’t like going to the doctor.
“Y/N, you alright?”
You nodded rapidly, “Yes, of course. Sorry. Reflex.”
“We’ve got to take that boot off. See if its broken.” At your nod, he gingerly grasped your leg, “Try not to kick me, okay?”
“No promises,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady while Dean worked to loosen the laces of your hiking boot.
When he went to slowly tug at the heel, you yelped and yanked your foot back again. Obviously, he needed a different approach. “You know, maybe it’s not your ankle that’s bothering you.”
You blinked in confusion, “What? What do you mean?”
“It’s me. I make you nervous.”
Your denial was swift and expected. “No you don’t!”
He cocked an eyebrow at you, “You’re not nervous?”
“No. Of course not. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be due to you. Hercules himself is sitting in the library, another mystery dropped in our laps needing to be solved. If I’m feeling anxious, its only because I’m eager to get back to work.”
Dean shrugged, “I thought maybe you were worried I was going to kiss you again. Or maybe you were worried I wouldn’t”
Your mind instantly snapped back to that hazy day in the kitchen, Dean’s lips on yours as his hands tangled in your hair. His hard body pressing up against you as he backed you up against the wall. Every part of him that touched you burned hot; his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his breath as it mingled with yours. He ignited a fire within you that day, and it had been smoldering ever since.
You swallowed unconsciously and met his gaze. A mistake. Your cheeks heated at the intent you saw reflected there. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t given it a second thought.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, “Really? You didn’t like it then?”
Dean’s hand was back on your leg, resting there. You could feel the warmth of his touch through your pant leg and your heart sped up. “I didn’t say that.”
He grinned then, slowly. Dangerous and sexy. He leaned a bit closer to her as his hand slid up behind your knee, the contact unexpectedly intimate.
You took an unsteady breath, “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”
His eyes dropped to your mouth, “Is that a fact?’
“Yes, you do it all the time! Strutting around the bunker like your God’s gift to flannel, making bacon 24/7, and you talk through every episode of Doctor Who!”
“God’s gift, huh?”
“Ugh!” You pushed at his shoulder in frustration, “You are so annoying! Arrogant and rude and I don’t like you at all!”
The fire in your normally calm eyes was fascinating.
Man, she is fun to rile up! Such an easy mark too. Odd, given how perceptive you were in pretty much all other areas.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” In one swift move, he pulled the heel of your boot, popped it off and slid your foot out.
You dug your fingers into Dean’s arms and let out a stream of colorful curse words. “Christ almighty!”
Dean chuckled until he saw your face blanche, “You alright?”
“No! Why don’t you just chop off my foot, you sadist!” You screwed your eyes shut against the wave of pain. Now that your boot wasn’t keeping pressure, it was hurting far worse. “Fuck, I’m seeing stars.”
You could feel him get up and when you opened your eyes again, he was already returning from across the room. He held out three small white pills and a glass of water. You swallowed them quickly and downed the entire glass. You watched him as he cut away your sock and expose your injury.
“Pretty shade of purple,” Dean whistled as he ran his fingers over the already turning colors and swelling around your ankle bone. Ever so gently, he probed, searching for a break. “Alright, go ahead and move it for me.”
Trying to ignore the pain, Y/N concentrated on Dean’s face. There was kindness there, under the swagger and grit. The man chopped the heads off monsters, battled demons and fought evil every day of the week. By rights, his touch should be rough, hardened by the hunter’s life. Instead, he was the opposite. Studying his chiseled features, it became clear that Dean Winchester’s true appeal was in how deeply he cared.
“Good girl,” he praised when you wiggled your toes, “Any numbness, pins and needles?”
You shook your head when he glanced up at you, “No.”
“Good. Nothing broken. Looks like you’ve got yourself a nasty sprain.” Dean made quick work of wrapping her ankle. “How’s that feel?”
“Better.”
He smiled as he settled an ice pack on top of the wrap and moved on to the scratches up and down your arms. “Huh, yeah. Gotta love those little pills, they kick in quick.”
You tilted your head, “Those pills… Ibuprofen?”
Dean dabbed disinfectant along the cuts, “No. I don’t remember what they are. Had a few left over from when Sam broke his elbow. Guess it’s your lucky day.”
Y/N grabbed his hand, “Wait, so they weren’t just run of the mill, over the counter pain killers?”
He chuckled, “Nope, way better, believe me.”
“Oh, hells bells,” you groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What? What’s wrong? Are you allergic?”
“I’m a lightweight Dean, I don’t even drink! Those pills will have me knocked out in an hour!”
Dean shrugged and continued his work, “Ah well, there are worse things.”
You could already feel your body relaxing, though you tried to resist. Fighting it would be useless in the end; it was just the way your body processed drugs of any kind. Naptime, it was so frustrating. “What about Hercules?”
“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’m sure Sam already has it halfway figured out by now.” Dean dabbed the cotton ball over the thin scratch angling across your brow. Your glassy eyes met his and he had to smile. “You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”
You frowned at him, “Why do you think I never drink with you guys?”
“I just figured you were stuck up.”
“Oh.”
Dean could tell by the way your expression fell that he’d hurt your feelings. He could chop the heads off monsters all day long and not feel an ounce of remorse, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Words had the power to cut deeper than any machete or silver blade.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and rummaged through the bandage box. “It’s just you don’t really spend any time with us unless its working. Figured that was intentional.”
“Why would I force social interactions on someone who doesn’t like me?” You returned; your words blunt. “That would be stupid and counterproductive.”
“Fair point,” he grunted as he gently placed a clean, white bandage over the biggest cut. “I don’t not like you though. I like you.”
At this point, you were really having trouble concentrating. Even the tiny muscles of your eyelids were turning to mush. It was all you could do to keep your concentration, but Dean had been an ass to you since day one. You weren’t about to let this opportunity to find out why pass you by.
“Then why are you such a dick to me?”
“I’m not a dick! Not all the time.”
It struck you then, God you were thick! Your jaw dropped, “Wait! Is that why you’re a dick? Because you like me?!”
Flustered, he got up and packed away the first aid supplies. “Those little pills really are messing with your head.”
“I’m right! This is like the grumpy hunter’s equivalent of pulling my pigtails on the playground!” You grinned widely because you solved the puzzle, “You’re flirting with me!”
He returned to the side of the bed and looked down at you with an unreadable look on his face. In a lightning-fast move, he swooped down and lifted you into his arms. Your face was now inches from his, his bottle-green eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your stomach fluttered.
“When I flirt with you, you’ll know it.”
This time your gaze flickered down to his lips. God, I hope he kisses me again!
“I like you too,” you admitted, your words slurring slightly. “I guess I just like dicks.”
Dean burst into laughter and your eyes widened when you realized what you’d just said.
“Damn it! Not like that! I mean… I do like them… but…just,” You sputtered, frustrated that you ruined the mood. “Shut up!”
Dean continued to chuckle as he carried you down the hall to your room. You grew heavier as you relaxed in his grasp, and you rested your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Those happy, little pills nearly had you asleep in his arms. Not that he minded, you fit surprisingly well there. And you smelled amazing. It was that expensive perfume you wore, light and clean. It made his mouth water.
“I’m making your coffee Irish tomorrow; you are one funny drunk.”
You only hummed in response. He nudged the door to your room open with his hip and laid you down on your neatly made bed. He took one of your throw pillows and propped up your wrapped ankle before removing the boot from your other foot.
Your eyes fluttered back open when he took the spare quilt from your chair and tucked it around you. Your smile was soft as you grasped his hand and tugged him down to sit beside you on the bed.
“You got everything you need, Sweetheart?”
You nodded while your thumb traced patterns across his knuckles. “Thank you, Dean. For taking care of me.”
He leaned down and kissed your forehead. A delightful combination of warm, soft lips and prickly stubble. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Just as he was about to pull away, you angled your head up and caught his lips in a kiss. He was surprised but quickly smiled into it. Different than the kiss you shared in the kitchen; this one wasn’t hurried. It was gentle and exploratory, like a flower slowly opening up to the light of the sun. Dean had never received a kiss so tender. You kissed him like you meant it in your heart. It made him feel, special. Cherished.
When you finally drew back and let your head fall back against the pillow, you saw the look of pure astonishment on his face. You smiled, your eyes half-mast. “I feel better now.”
He brushed the hair back from your face, letting his fingers run through the silky strands. You were already drifting off; he shook his head. “Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”
“Dunno,” you murmured, finally letting sleep take you. “But you will.”
Dean sat there for several minutes, considering your words as your breathing evened out and became slow and deep. He did like you, far more than he should. You weren’t his type at all. You were prim and proper. You valued intelligent conversation and musty library books. You drank chamomile tea and wore fancy clothes. If anything, you were more Sam’s type. Classy. Ladylike. In that moment, the salty hunter realized two things. One, he wondered just how ladylike you were going to be lying naked beneath him. And two, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
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Pt. 1 A Visitor... Once Again Kirishima x Goddess!reader
hello hello, this is my contribution to this months bnharem collab! The theme was ‘mythology and lore’ and hit very close to my ancient greek loving soul. We have so many wonderful writers and artists that have worked hard so pls check out the rest of the collab here!!!
I’ve been rather ill and so I’ll be breaking it up into parts, part 2 will be out as soon as I am feeling more myself (which will hopefully be next week). Please enjoy a story about 2 of my favourite characters. Kirishima Eijirou, as his hero self (tho with a demi-god twist) and reader! as Kalypso, the goddess, daughter of Atlas, the titan who holds up the sky. Her curse is that she is forced to live alone on an island and fall in love with any visitor who falls to her shores. Once she falls for them, she is forced to ask if they would like to stay and she may grant them immortality if they say yes, and if not? They may leave. They have no way of leaving the island until she falls in love. She is a kind and wonderful character and I have a lot of love for her, (perhaps I relate to her a bit too much) so it is an honor to tell a new version of her story.
This is set in present day even tho Kalypso is an ancient greek figure, Kirishima is about 25-28 here? Pro hero Kiri!
TW: a small sex scene in the beginning, little bit of dirty talk, penetration
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“Fuck, thats it baby, feel it going all the way inside? Feels good right?” You moan into his neck, “s-so good.” He starts to thrust in and out slowly. Your nails dig into the muscles of his back… his… names and faces are unimportant blurs as he continues to thrust inside. Each drag of his cock hits each sweet spot and taps against your cervix. “Fuck~ you feel so fucking good darling, so-fucking-good, perfect, fucking perfect… yeah that's it clamp down on my cock, massage it with that perfect pussy.” His hand slips between your sweat soaked bodies and rubs quick circles over your clit. “Gonna cum for me baby? I can feel it, you’re about to gush~” You cry into his neck, soft tears of ecstasy hitting his skin. You’re close, so very close-
“Hello? Hey!!! Is anyone home?? Hello?”
You open your eyes and the man above you, the cock inside you, all falls away. It had all been a dream… a delicious, wonderful dream. A dream that had been ruined by an incurable racket. You stare groggily at the ceiling. The ache in your core of having been so close to cumming now boils into a rage. “Hello?!?! Is someone here? Hello??” Your brow crinkled in confusion as to who the rasping voice belonged to. You check to see if you had somehow managed to flip the tv on but the screen was dark. “Does anyone live here?” It dawned on you then… It’s a visitor.
You check the clock that blinks 5:37AM. You groan into a pillow and kick your legs in an attempt to relieve the ache. Your bare thighs are covered in your arousal, which has turned into your frustration. You stay lying still in hopes that he will go away, leave you alone, never return. “HELLO????!?!” But he had to stop screaming and it didn’t seem like he was going to until he came into contact with someone… You knew the nature of the curse well enough at this point but you would try to rebel as long as you could…
You flip the covers off of your body and slowly walk to grab a robe to cover yourself with. You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror while you finish tying the robe. “We got this,” you point to yourself, “no falling in love this time, no falling in love no matter what, ever again, you hear me?” You nod back to yourself. “Pinkie swear.” You touch pinkies with the mirror and laugh coldly. “No more foolish love,” you sarcastically remark before opening the french doors and stepping onto the balcony.
You stare down at the man who had been shouting for so long and your heart drops. He’s beautiful, red hair hanging in his face, still wet with the sea. His body must have been designed by the muses and chiseled by delicate hands. It’s clear even through his clothes. Son of Ares? Or even Zeus perhaps? He is interesting, never had you seen a demigod with such clear physical strength and kind eyes. The combination was rare. He gives you a grin which then fades to surprise. “Oh- I am so sorry, my manners,” he laughs nervously before slowly kneeling on the ground. “Great Goddess, I humble myself now in front of your grace and all encapsulating beauty…” You roll your eyes hoping he will take the hint and shut up. It wasn’t any different from the men before him… It was the same shit as always, though you were disappointed, this one seemed different upon first glance. “...your magnificence is profound, you are both elegant and ethereal in your just standing there-” you cut him off before he can continue the asinine speech. “Ya done?” you ask bluntly.
His eyes grow wide and he softly utters a “what?” You roll your eyes and lean on the gold railing. “Dude, it’s 5am, you’re yelling and ranting, can ya just get to the point?” He remains on his knees in a bow. His pitch varies with confusion as he speaks. “My ship, uhh I crashed it on your shore, and I was hoping that you could umm, maybe assist me in getting home? I-” he hangs his head for a moment, perhaps in exhaustion before continuing. “I have no GPS, no compass, not even a map… if I could do it without bothering you, I would, nothing you for help isn’t very manly... but please Goddess, please help me get home.” You sigh, century after century of the same request has really weakened your patience, though he had asked nicer than most. “You’re stuck here for the foreseeable future,” you smile slightly. You wait for the look of annoyance, frustration, fear… but it never comes. In fact he gives a slight half smile as he stands. “Well, nothing we can do?” he asks. “‘Fraid not,” you sigh. He starts to say something else but he winces. “Are you okay?” you ask, genuine concern bleeding through the nonchalant tone you had been practicing the past milenia. He nods and grabs hold of his side. “I got a little beat up, but don’t worry goddess, ‘tis but a flesh wound,” he tips his head down. As he raises his head he looks deathly pale. “Hey sit down okay?” you call down to him, but it’s too late. His eyes roll back and he collapses. “Shit-” you mutter to yourself as you run down to him.
He lays there in a crumpled heap, his breathing shallow. “Wish you’d said you were hurt first dummy,” you grumble before assessing the situation. You need to get him to the herbs and the back porch. This wouldn't be easy, he’s big, huge really. But he collapsed on his side which makes things easier. You hook an arm around one of his and the other around a leg. It takes a lot and it's a staring but you manage to lift him on your shoulders. If your father can hold up the sky, you can surely carry this brick house of a man back to the bed on the porch.
You step into the house while fireman carrying him to the screened-in porch to lay him down on the daybed. You place him carefully in the soft, green covers and he whines softly. “You’re gonna be just fine,” you reassure gently. Your back porch was reserved for growing herbs, arts and crafts, summer sleep, and it occasionally became a makeshift infirmary when visitors came to you injured and in need of patching up. It happened once every few centuries…
You grabbed some fabric scissors and cut away his shirt to reveal what had been ailing him. You hoped for a broken rib, those were easy to heal with a careful dose of leaf from the widows bone flower and some angel root. But what lay beneath was worse than imagined. A deep gash in his side had tried to close over and heal but it’s irritated, angry. The wound is oozing a sickly yellow pus and iridescent ichor. The skin around it is red with infection. This is one of the worst you’d been brought with. You touch his head, it’s hot and sticky with sweat. This wasn’t good. “Wait here, okay?” You grab a clump of angel root and take it back inside to the kitchen, setting it in a pot of water to boil. You grab a cloth and wet it under the sink in cold water.
You place it on his forehead and sit on the bed beside him. His face was relaxed and he was even more beautiful now. You brush the hair from his eyes and smile down at him, there was something familiar about him… like you’d met before. Though no one could return to Ogygia.
You lean down to where you can speak over his heart in a language that cannot be written or replicated... But the meaning of the words would go something like:
You are healing
You are youthful and strong
Your heart knows how to heal because it is made of love
Pure love can heal anything
You are healing now
You repeat this chant until you hear his breath deepen and watch the cut sooth. It’s a small enchantment but it has done its job. Sure, you’re no Circe, or her brethren, but you’re an enchantress all the same.
You rush back inside and grab the angel root, that's now wet and flexible from being submerged in water. You lay it across his wound before wrapping it carefully. “There now, wait here and I’m going to get you some nectar to drink,” He doesn't respond but his face is relaxed, less anguished, less in pain. You sigh in relief, hopefully that will be enough to close the wound in a day or so, else he will need to be stitched up.
You return with a small bottle of nectar and a dropper to feed him with. You coax his jaw to relax with your hand before dropping the nectar slowly onto his tongue. “You heroes are an awful lot of trouble… you know that?” You continue to feed him slowly so he won’t choke. You sigh in relief as the colour returns back to his face. He’s so beautiful he’s almost glowing, you start to reach for him, to brush the hair from his eyes but you stop yourself and turn away. “No, no love this time, remember?” you say to your reflection in the glass of the windows.
His eyes flutter open with long slow blinks. You watch as they focus on you. He blinks again. “Elyssium,” he breathes and you can’t help but chuckle. “No, Ogygia,” you correct gently. “I’m Eijirou,” he smiles. You laugh again. “No no, this island, where you are is called Ogygia, you aren’t dead,” you assure. He blinks up at you still and you curse the gods for creating him to be so breathtaking. “And what are you called?” he asks. He attempts to sit up but finds it difficult. You place your hand on his head, it’s warm and you can feel his brow relax against your palm. “You’re much better now, but just take your time…” His hands touch his torso and then move to his head. “You healed me?” You nod, “I’ll have to sew this one the rest of the way, it was quite deep.” He circles his hand around your arm, his thumb stroking soft circles. “Thank you, goddess,” he murmurs. You pull away, his touch sending lightning down into your fingertips. You don't remember the last time you had a visitor on this island of yours… but none of the previous visitors seemed to matter anymore, even though each one had stolen your heart some way or another. But no- no love, not this time, not now, not again… It hurt, but you suppressed the feelings of desire and brushed your hands down the front of your robe. “It’s nothing, but for the love of the lethe, stop calling me goddess. Kalypso is fine, just Kalypso.”
He grabs your hand as you turn to leave, “thank you... Kalypso, thank you for saving my life.” In all the years you had been saddled with this curse, it was rare for the visitor to say your name... and none of them, had said your name quite like that.
You pull your hand from his grasp and make sure not to look back, even though you want to. “You’re welcome,” you answer simply, “I’ll uhh- get you some water.”
to be added to the taglist
#kirishima#bnha#kirishima eijirou#kirishima x reader#kirishima x y/n#kirishima x you#kiri#eijiro x reader#kirishima eijiro x reader#bnharem#bnharem collab#august collab
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My dear, your reblog about Boromir death just broke my heart a little bit more 😭 gotta watch Lotr again !
Let me sink the arrows a little deeper.
Boromir, son of Denethor was a whole-ass man.
Often Boromir is compared to his father in contrast to Faramir, but he’s actually described as being like Denethor in “face and pride, but little else.” That right there tells you a lot about his character.
He grew up on Sauron’s back porch, at the end of the decline of Gondor, with a younger brother who idolized him and a father who was slowly spiraling into severe mental illness. As the oldest son of the steward, Boromir has a lot to live up to and not much to work with.
Gondor had been circling the drain for 1000 years. Not only was there the looming threat of Sauron - obviously significant - but there’s the decline of the men of the west to consider, too. Since the fall of Numenor, each generation of men had grown successively weaker, their lifespans and wisdom diminished. Add to that the rise of Mordor: the corruption of Minas Ithil (Minas Morgul), the orcs running around killing people, the fall of Rohan and the treason of Orthanc, plus the back-and-forth taking and retaking of Osgiliath... well, Boromir is a man with a lot to worry about.
Then there’s the personal problems. A dead mom and an ailing, asshole father. A sweet little brother to protect (remember that Faramir really cared nothing for battles and weapons, so of course Boromir, being the Big Brother/Badass Warrior that he was, would worry over him). A city on the edge of ruin, a people on the edge of war they cannot hope to fight, an army of actual monsters living at your doorstep. Boromir’s entire world is literally falling apart at the seams. This is a man who is utterly without hope, a man with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
Talk about pressure, am I right?
So, let’s hit on Osgiliath a little bit. It’s not made clear in the films, but Osgiliath is actually the capital city of Gondor. It’s also a major tactical stronghold - he who controls Osgiliath controls passage across the river Anduin. As Captain of the White Tower, Boromir spent pretty much his entire adult life defending this city from constant attack - at one point, he and Faramir held the west side, and Mordor held the east side, and they battled for the bridge in the middle. Like, for months, I think (you may want to fact check my timelines on this, though, because I am too lazy). I’m pretty sure he and Faramir eventually just said “fuck it” and collapsed the bridge behind them (if we can’t have it then you can’t either, Sauron, please go suck a giant cock) and ended up swimming to safety with maybe just a couple of other dudes? Not many.
So. Boromir the Protector. Boromir the Warrior.
Now, Boromir the Captain. His soldiers loved him - they looked for him daily when he was gone. He was a good leader and a good man. He was missed, and he was mourned. Even Eomer mentions him fondly, saying that he was a lot like a man of Rohan. High praise, if you ask me.
Now, let’s talk about Boromir the Big Brother.
It is made clear time and time again, in both the books and the films, that even though Boromir may not have understood Faramir, he loved him. Boromir is described as his brother’s defender and protector. He defends Faramir physically in battle man times, and also emotionally, from Denethor the Dickhead.
In the books, Boromir and Faramir both dream of Imlardis and Isildur’s Bane, but it’s Boromir who volunteers to take the journey to Rivendell, solely to protect his brother from the dangerous journey.
And it is dangerous. At one point, he loses his horse crossing a ford - which means he lost most of his supplies, too. He had to walk to Rivendell with the clothes on his back. It took him nearly four months.
Now, I kind of think this is a huge sacrifice. I mean, Boromir who cared nothing for lore or culture, volunteering to leave his men and take on a journey to Rivendell to see some elves about a dream? It smacks of desperation, sure, which Boromir obviously felt in spades. But also, I think displays that no-hold-barred, sacrificial kind of love that he held for Faramir. Boromir would do literally anything to keep his baby bro safe.
Boromir’s relationship with the hobbits is special, too. One of my favorite moments in The Fellowship of the Ring is Boromir teaching Merry and Pippin to spar, which is why I chose the gif up top. Just, all of the Feels, am I right?
This isn’t the only time Boromir acts in the interests of the hobbits, though. Upon crossing Caradhras, it was Boromir who was wise enough to suggest the Fellowship carry firewood with them. This foresight single-handedly saved the lives of the hobbits; they would have frozen otherwise. The next day, Boromir and Aragorn carried them down the mountain.
So, Boromir was a good guy. He was brave, noble, kind, wise in his own way. He had a good head for strategy, and he could kick some serious ass on a battlefield (I didn’t talk too much about that one because I thought it was kind of obvious).
Now, to address the elephant in the room (or, the ring around the halfling’s neck? too much?)
Remember that the One Ring preys on our vulnerabilities. I think film!Gandalf said it most succinctly: “I would use this ring for the desire to do good, but through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.”
Boromir’s greatest desire is to protect what he loves - his brother, his men, and more broadly, his city and its legacy. Tactically, his argument to return to Minas Tirith and strike out from a position of strength is a sound one: rest up, make a plan, defeat Sauron at the front door, restore Gondor to her former glory. It makes sense. Remember that this is a man who has made a study of military history - he’s not an idiot by any means. But the Ring corrupted this noble desire until all Boromir could think about was this driving need to get the Ring to Gondor.
Boromir’s story, more than absolutely anybody’s - yeah, even Smeagol’s - illustrates the dangers of the One Ring. The corruption of Boromir wasn’t inevitable, it was unthinkable. This was a good and noble man. He was a badass warrior, a friend, a brother. Boromir’s death proves that nobody is above the power of the Ring. His loss is a fucking tragedy, both to the Fellowship and to his people.
tl;dr: Boromir is one of my very favorite characters in all of the Tolkien pantheon, he doesn’t get near enough credit, and I mourn his passing just like those White Tower bros.
#boromir#the lord of the rings#the fellowship of the ring#don't mind me i'm just all up in my feels over here#also babe don't mind my sarcasm it's purely a tone choice and i mean nothing by it#i love you big#BOROMIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRR#sean bean is a babe#thank you for sending this ask because i got to strap on my sword and stand on my soapbox and defend my boiii#could shout about this precious man forever and ever#let's do gandalf next i love him too#lol jk jk
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mcyt but they’re god tier: troll redux
hi mcyttumblr! yall thought you were done? that you were free? fuckin HA! we’re back and we’re better than ever and i’m here to present you with god tiers for even more of your favorite minecraft youtubers, but this time, i will also be included troll blood colors! this is a separate session from my last post, but it is set in the same verse and the sessions will overlap later in my fic series.
yall ready? let’s go!
JSCHLATT / fuschia blooded / the thief of blood
one who steals blood | blood is the aspect of bonds! friendship, unity, attachment, and obligation.
i love jschlatt and i was so excited to god tier him, especially with the role he plays on the smp. his class seemed super obvious to me- he’s all about taking from others to benefit himself, which is thief archetype 101. for aspect, i was torn between heart (emotions) and blood (bonds), but then i read this from the extended zodiac- “those bound to the aspect of blood draw their strength from bonds, from the trust and camaraderie that blooms among a group of people who all share a single vision.” schlatt came to the SMP, found l’manburg and the unity they had, and took it for his own gain.
he is a fuschia blood because i thought it would be really funny if he was like, actual royalty, and for plot-motivated reasons it gives the rest of our ragtag little group a reason to follow him.
QUACKITY / cerulean blooded / the mage of doom
one who knows about doom | doom is the aspect of fate, futility, and decay.
quackity time! so, this was one of two picks again- mage of doom or page of breath. with some help from @memoryoflife, i decided on mage of doom because it’s about knowing when things are futile and there’s no point in trying anymore. quackity’s role in the SMP has always been incredibly doom-like, in my mind, despite his upbeat nature and general sense of humor. he’s why l’manburg fell, because he decided to join forces with schlatt. he’s the one who stuck by schlatt despite the fact that he knew things were going badly. he knows doom, and i think there’s a lot of potential for him to have a character arc about using that knowledge for his own benefit, for once.
i put him as a cerulean blood because i thought him having psychic brain powers would be cool, and i wanted him to be high enough in the hemospectrum for it to make sense with him being <> or <3 with schlatt.
SKEPPY / teal blooded / the bard of space
one who invites destruction through space | space is the aspect of literal space, physics, and creation.
so, i’m not SUPER familiar with skeppy’s content, but i mostly associate him with two things: chaos and fucking with the game (in the name of chaos). so i figured, fuck it! let’s do the opposite of phil! let’s give this little man the power to break space into little pieces! space is an aspect that interacts with sburb on a level that is unparalleled by any aspect other than time, and bard is a class built around destruction and chaos. while we never see canon bard powers at their fullest, i like to think that in the hands of someone like skeppy, things would get real weird.
he’s a teal blood for... the color association, mostly. not much of an explanation for this one, sorry!
ANTFROST / jade blooded / the knight of life
one who serves through life | life is the aspect of healing, resurrection, and life force.
so i associate ant with life because of animals both irl and in the smp! he puts so much care into taking care of the zoo on the smp. life players are also described with the following excerpt- “deeply empathetic, they have an intuitive understanding of other's suffering and the best way of righting those wrongs. If you're poisoned, chances are the life-bound have something for what ails ya.” ant seems like an incredibly caring and empathetic person, and the combination of knight and life basically adds up to “problem solver extraordinaire!” which i think really suits him and makes for a good character setup for further exploration.
he is a jade blood because i think he deserves to be able to go outside during the day :)
HBOMB / yellow blooded / the sylph of time
one who heals through time | time is the aspect of literal time and time travel.
similarly to skeppy and fundy, i wanted hbomb to have one of the more literal aspects. especially after watching his 100% advancement minecraft stream, even for a little bit, the fact that deep down he’s a clever and methodical problem solver really stuck with me. due to plot reasons, he will unfortunately never ascend to his full god tier, but the sense of him being a time player still stuck with me. i assigned him sylph because the idea of someone using a physical game mechanic like time for the sake of healing would be really interesting to explore in canon, and i think in the context of the rest of the trolls, hbomb would certainly have to do a lot of fixing things between his fellow players by manipulating the timeline.
he’s a yellow blood because he’s a nerd and it’s the nerd blood color! also he deserves cool psionics.
KARL / rust blooded / the heir of hope
one who is consumed by hope | hope is the aspect of belief, perseverance, and positive emotion.
karl jacobs i love you!!!! i really wanted karl’s god tier to encapsulate the absolutely overwhelming sense of positivity i get from karl’s streams, tweets, and videos that he’s in. as part of the mr beast crew, he has such a positive impact, and in smp-related things he’s overwhelmingly positive even when hes’ on the losing side. heir of hope is about embodying hope! i think that this is also his downfall- even when he’s on the losing side, he can be blind to the flaws in the ideologies he follows and blind to the fact that he’s in real trouble.
i picked rust blood for him because i wanted the trolls to have a lowblood, and i think that karl fits it in the sense that he’s very laid back and is more of a follower, which i think would fit for the average lowblood of alternia.
and that’s that! this one was admittedly a lot more influenced by the Plot Machinations that i have going on in my head, but i’m really happy with how things have turned out and am really excited to start introducing trolls into the narrative. next up will be a post about lands and strife specibi for the humans!
until then: smpstuck au tag / smpstuck fics / first god tier post
#smpstuck au#dream smp#mcyt#minecraft youtube#jschlatt#quackity#karl jacobs#hbomb96#antfrost#dreamteam#homestuck#minecraft#classpect#god tiers#zack talks
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Medea’s Superstar Superlative Anime & Games of 2021
So 2021 was one of those years that…what can I say that anyone else hasn’t? We all are getting back into the swing of things and trying to find a bit of normalcy after the shit-storm of 2020. Many of us are stepping back out in the world after being holed up for 18 months or trying to move on after possibly losing a family member to Covid-19. Whatever the case, anime was there to make things bett…or just gave us a distraction while the world turns to shit.
You all know the deal with what I do every year. I give respect to the anime and games I played throughout 2021 with this horribly outdated meme I’ve done for over 10 years. Seriously, I’m sure there are far better ones I could be doing here! If there’s an anime that came out in not 2021 times but I watched it this year, it counts. Now let’s hit it!
First Fandom of 2021: Cells at Work – CODE BLACK
You guys remember Cells at Work, right? Cutesy opening theme where the cast (even the English cast) sing the song, everyone’s happy and peppy, everything is colorful and nice, and the only time there was a big worry was when a cancer cell came in. Yeah…the anime was fine and dandy. But I chose not to give it a proper review for reasons that are out of my hands. So imagine my excitement levels when it was announced that Cells at Work was coming back along with a side-story that was going to be so totally opposite of the actual Cells at Work airing in the same season.
Wow, I did not expect a Cells at Work anime was going to catch my attention, but Code Black reeled me in. Every day in this body is literally a CODE BLACK. It makes Frank’s body from Osmosis Jones look like the peak of physical fitness compared to what this body has going on. There’s obesity, gout, impotence, renal failure, alcoholism, and heart failure that lead to a mighty, big heart attack! We sure this guy wasn’t Roger Ailes? Never mind fighting a cancer cell. Those fuckers appear at random and once a season in the original season! Everyone in this body is fighting to live because the human has some really shitty habits. This is an every day hell! So yeah, this Cells at Work series was addicting to watch.
Favorite Main Character of 2021: Shouko Komi from Komi-san Can’t Communicate
I’m joining the plethora of people who say, “Yes, this was me in high school, #Relatable”!
Okay, where the fuck were these #Relatable people when I was going to school? Because I felt really fucking alienated growing up and the number of people sprouting up relating to Shouko Komi is starting to piss me off.
God bless this girl! She’s trying her darndest to try and make 100 friends at school despite having extreme social anxiety. She’s not cringy like Tomoko from Watamote or super needy like Hitori Bocchi, Komi-san is Komi-san! Aoi Koga just sounds so cute when voicing this character with every gasp, squeak, and grunt she has to voice. Seriously, how much is Aoi Koga being paid here? Komi-san has severe social anxiety that has rendered her unable to communicate properly in front of others. The only way we know what she’s feeling is through facial expressions and what she rights in her notebook. And that’s only if you’re another person she trusts! But I love how determined she is to making new friends at school (even if some of them are certifiably insane). Keep going for that goal Komi-san! You go girl!
Favorite Villain of 2021: The Dark Triad of the Spade Kingdom from Black Clover
I know I gave a villain group from Black Clover a nod last year, mostly for pity sake. This year, wow these guys gave the Clover and Heart Kingdom some major beatdowns. With the introduction of the Dark Triad (Dante, Vanica, and Zenon), manga readers were super ready and super spoily about this. Seriously guys, shut the fuck up and let us enjoy what’s coming. I gotta say it was hard to believe so many characters changed within 6 months time, but I suppose the extra training came in handy for some. Dante, Vanica, and Zenon were just OP and every week an episode hit it was like, “OH MY GOD! WHAT THE FUCK! HOLY SHIT! DID THESE GUYS JUST FUCKING DIE! WHAT THE OH HOLY FUCK”! And other sentiments because you couldn’t believe the shit they did. Unfortunately for me, Black Clover’s anime came to an end back in March leaving me at a total stand-still with seeing more from these ultra baddies (and what the fuck happened to Yami and William). Maybe in 2022, we’ll learn more with the movie they (only) announced. Noelle, Asta, and Yuno need another round two with these guys.
Favorite Video Game Character of 2021: Ni…
…We good here, pal? We got that shit out of our system? Okay then!
Niko from Animal Crossing Happy Home Paradise
I adore this little monkey. You know what? I love everyone in HHP, even Wardell. But Niko is just so cute and so helpful. He makes so much use of all those ores and sticks you’ve been storing for a year to make you helpful items for when you’re designing vacation homes. I’m usually not a monkey fan, but I’m willing to make an exception for Niko. Look at how tiny he is! I love it! Oh and the way he hops in picture shots! Somebody get me an amiibo of him!
Favorite Game of 2021: Animal Crossing New Horizons + Happy Home Paradise
Tough choice! There were a lot of games I actually played this year. Miitopia came back and I had fun with the quirky madlib of RPG’s. Pokemon Snap and several Mario games also came into the picture. And then Diamond and Pearl! But Animal Crossing had that staying power from last year and continued to dominate for more fun. Trust me, the world becoming a bleaker hellhole made it less so with this game. And with recent additions like Brewster’s café, crops, cooking, new recipes, random islands with Kapp’n, and even the DLC extra game, Animal Crossing gave fans so much they asked for and more.
And Senor Froggy chair!
Favorite Het Couple of 2021: Tamahiko Shima x Yuzuki Tachibana from Taishou Maiden Fairytale
Oooh, this couple is just too cute for me to pass up! Tamahiko came from a prominent family that recently shunned him. Yuzuki was purchased by Tamahiko’s father to be his bride. Yeah, this part of the story does not look good on paper. Tamahiko’s father is scum and this is the 1920s! Thankfully, Tamahiko doesn’t act like a spoiled brat of a wealthy family. In fact, he’s quite the gentleman to Yuzuki. And then there’s Yuzuki! Because this is the 1920’s, I can’t help but think she’s an ancestor of Tohru Honda. She is that pure! She came to Tamahiko’s house to be his bride and she will happily do that.
Granted, both of these silly kids are awkward when actual romance does ensue! I do believe Tamahiko cares for this girl. Probably because this is the only kindness Tamahiko received in his entire life. His family refused to show any sort of love and because of the wealth, he was seen as an outcast everywhere else. Yuzuki doesn’t get bothered by anything really (aside from her floofy hair and giant tits). Tamahiko deserves every kind of happiness and I’m glad Yuzuki is in his life.
Favorite Yuri Couple of 2021: Tohru x Kobayashi from Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid S
Before this came along, I had a lot of Yuri contenders because of animes like Otherside Picnic and Bloom Into You. But fuck that, Tohru and Kobayashi are back!
Yes, this is very much one-sided as fuck! We all know how crazy Tohru can get about Miss Kobayashi. At times, it did hit fever-pitch like when Tohru artistically expressed her feelings for Miss Kobayashi. This season we got a lot of choice moments between Kobayashi and Tohru and a few silly moments. Kobayashi will continue to be there for Tohru no matter what Tohru’s father says. And Tohru will always be there to protect Kobayashi. Seriously, that man should have never slapped Kobayashi. We all knew Tohru was going to go savage on his ass.
Best of all, the second season gave us a genuine “I love you” from Tohru. I know Kobayashi didn’t respond like Tohru wanted, but it’s what we all knew she would take it. And then the faux wedding scene! A dragon can dream, right?
Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2021: …
I did not watch a yaoi anime this year. I know, shocking! I could have put any old slightly canon yaoi ship in this category, but my heart wasn’t really into it. Ash x Goh is still on my mind, but I don’t support it up the ass like I normally would. I mean, I did technically finish one this year. But what else can I say about this couple that I haven’t already in last year’s list and the review I put out?
Ash Lynx x Eiji Okumura from Banana Fish
It was beautiful while it lasted.
Fandom That You Didn’t Expect to Get Into: Mushoku Tensei – Jobless Reincarnation
Yeah, I didn’t think I was going to love the fuck out of this going in. I mean let’s face it, it’s another fucking isekai. But sitting there watching every episode and watching Rudeus grow from episode to episode was just amazing to watch. This guy gets to have a second chance after having the worst experiences ever in his previous life and eventually grow from it. We watch Rudeus grow from episode to episode, not just physically from baby to teenager but grow as a person and mage. Now the actual isekai adventure doesn’t really happen until the end of season one, it was nice to see Rudeus mature (for the most part). Yeah, this series can get very perverted. VERY perverted! Perversion aside, Rudeus being reborn as someone from a different world and time gave this poor soul a chance at redemption. And who doesn’t like a good redemption?
Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Violet Evergarden
We had good comebacks in 2021 like Demon Slayer. We had bad comebacks in 2021 like The Promised Neverland. And then…I watched the Violet Evergarden movie and…
DAMMIT, WHO’S CUTTING THE FUCKING ONIONS?!
Of all the fucking stories to make a comeback in the movie, it had to be Ann. The one story that made me ugly-cry! Okay, it wasn’t just this and it wasn’t just the movie. I think it was because of Miss Kobayashi’s return to television that I found myself looking at other KyoAni productions and rewatching a lot of the work I’ve seen once before. Violet Evergarden was just so beautiful that I couldn’t stop it at one viewing. Also with rewatching, I went back to this annoying thought in the back of my head that had to do with Violet and the major. I felt like something was off and thought it would be nice if the movie could address that uneasy feeling I had. I was right to feel that way. I’m glad I saw what I saw. This movie is beautiful. The entire series is a treasure. Long live KyoAni!
And as much as this will make me ugly-cry, I’m so happy Ann lived a full and happy life after losing her mother at a young age. *sniffs* She kept the letters even after her death! She deserves all the happiness in the world.
Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Redo of Healer
Most crack or most pussy?!
I couldn’t believe this. Remember last year when Interspecies Reviewers crossed a line with consensual sex between brothel workers and paying John’s? This anime nuked that line! This anime had no consenting when it came to sex. It wasn’t even sex. It was rape! Not just rape, but date-rape, incest-rape, gender-swapping-rape, and revenge-rape. And what is revenge rape? It’s Redo of Healer! How could I continue watching this after episode 2? Because apparently women like me are drawn to this smut. At least that’s what the creator said! And was he right? Sadly yes.
And to top it all off, this series wasn’t even banned from Japanese television and the U.S. licensor was willing to keep airing this week by week. Sentai Filmworks has no shame whatsoever and they should have been the ones to license Interspecies Reviewers last year and not those prudes at FUNimation. How?! How was this anime allowed to air with everything happening?! It was addicting to watch. This series was an addiction that even people who aren’t fully into ecchi material had to continue binge watching because you wanted to know what happened next to Keyaru. And we really need a continuation! I’m a sick fuck for even asking this, but come on guys. There was one last person Keyaru needed to exact revenge upon. Granted he’s a sick fuck that violated Keyaru numerous times, I would just like to see closure. I’m also curious to know how far this series is willing to go after everything we saw up to this point.
Last Fandom of 2021: Blue Period
I love this anime and to tell you the truth, this anime hurts. I’ve been in this situation (though different from Yataro). I’ve been an art student before. I’ve struggled trying to get into college with my work. I suffered through the pain of being among peers who are clearly better than me. I’ve experienced all kinds of critiques that caused a shift in my mood and my art work. So when an anime decides to delve into art students trying to enter the college world and suffering through all the things I went through, I feel a sick twinge in my stomach and want to see how this plays out.
And then all the beautiful art work. All of the beautiful art…God damn, these are high school students and I feel fucking inferior with everything I’ve ever created. And yet…every week, it does light a bit of a spark in me to see if I can pick up a sketchbook or canvas again.
#blue period#redo of healer#violet evergarden#mushoku tensei jobless reincarnation#banana fish#ash lynx#eiji okumura#tohru#Kobayashi#miss kobayashi's dragon maid#taishou otome otogibanashi#tamahiko shima#niko#animal crossing new horizons#komi-san can't communicate#shouko komi#cells at work code black#black clover#yuzuki tachibana
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nobody (okay, well, 2 people DID ask, but it’s too late to change the title of this essay series now) asked but here are three main humor techniques i apply a lot in my fanfiction | a 2k word long post where i talk humor theory at you for entirely too long
I love humor. A good 75% of my personality is based primarily on whether or not it would be funny and thus, the study and application of comedy is something of a very big huge large interest of mine. I love watching standup comedy, I love telling jokes, but most of all, I love literature that makes me laugh.
I write humor, and I put a lot of thought into it, and here, I will do the least funny thing ever: I will over-explain my jokes.
Before we do that, we must set some ground rules first. What is humor? Well, in Humor: Its Origin and Development, Paul McGhee contends that no single theory could encapsulate the entirety of humor. Additionally, according to McGhee, humor does not physically exist. It is, instead, a perception brought about by certain scenarios with certain characteristics. What we can take away from here is that first, humor is vast, and there are many ways to both explain it and achieve it, and second, that humor is something caused by certain other things.
I do not claim to be an expert in humor, just an enthusiast, so what I will not be giving a cheat code to humorous writing. I will, instead, share three techniques that I frequently use and explain how they work.
The three techniques are the following:
INCONGRUENCY: Things that don’t fit.
SLAPSTICK: I hope that doesn’t happen to me.
CHEKOV’S GAG: If the gun is there, it better be funny.
My examples for each of these techniques will come from various sources of media. My examples of my own writing will all be coming from the most recent fanfic I have written, my Polygon Cyberpunk Red high school au “teenagers scare the living shit out of me.” Examples will sometimes have overlap in the technique they utilize, but I’ll try my best to keep everything clear on what exactly I’m trying to explain.
Without further ado, let’s jump right into it!
INCONGRUENCY: Things that don’t fit.
Göran Nerhardt, in McGhee’s book, states that “Humor is seen as a consequence of the discrepancy between two mental representations, one of which is an expectation and the other is some idea or percept.” Nerhardt’s definition of humor is one that relies on incongruity: wherein there is an element that is not in accordance with the other elements. An incongruous element is one that is not the expectation, and in this subversion of expectation, humor is achieved.
In simpler terms, a congruent situation would be “A man walks into a bar and orders a beer.” An incongruent situation would “A man walks into a bar. ‘Ow!’ He says.”
In the first example, everything is as expected, and in the second, the word “bar” has the characteristic of being a homophone, a word with different definitions. The second example takes advantage of the other definition of the word “bar”, that is to say a metal tube object, and thus the reaction of the man.
Incongruency plays on the unexpected, the out of place, and the odd. This technique in particular I learned from writers like Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett. They use incongruence, they use it A LOT but what I want to talk about is, first, its use as a descriptor.
“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.” -Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
“In a distant forest a wolf howled, felt embarrassed when no one joined in, and stopped.” -Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic
Description is a fertile ground for humor. You have a thing, there are expectations to how that thing will appear or act, and then you describe it in a way that’s unexpected. I pull this trick off in so many fics, but here is an example from chapter 4 of the high school au.
Mr. Hypo sits at the desk in front of the classroom, staring all three of them down. Vang0, Dasha, and Burger are seated in the stupid circle again, looking at Robbie as it powers up like a man with gout.
Incongruency here is Robbie, the animatronic. Expectation is that it will be described in a robot like manner. Reality is that I describe it having the same condition that occasionally ails my nearly 50 year old father.
Aside from description, incongruence is also something I play around with in the events of situations themselves. The most clear example I can give is this scene, from chapter 6, is this:
Burger picks up the closest thing.
That thing happens to be Peter.
“Peter!” Burger looks at Peter in the eye as Edmundton picks up a chair and starts menacingly walking towards Burger. He says, very quickly “Do you consent to be used as a self defense projectile!?”
Peter, pigeonly, nods.
“Thank youuuuuuuu!” Burger yells as he throws Peter at Edmundton’s face.
The context of this scene is that Burger has just entered active combat. Combat is serious. Combat is deadly. Combat is hitting and getting hurt. So what’s something unexpected you can do in this situation to make it funny? Have Burger ask a pigeon if it’s alright with being thrown at an enemy, and then make Burger actually throw the pigeon at the enemy.
Incongruence is something that is present in a lot of humor situations and it’s very, very fun to play around with. Messing around with incongruence makes you think about what is expected in writing and forces you to think outside of the box in a manner that will elicit laughter.
Let’s move on to our next topic now!
SLAPSTICK: I hope that doesn’t happen to me.
Kevin Casper in his article I’m so glad you’re fake! describes slapstick comedy as a physical type of humor wherein actions are done in an excessive, ridiculous, and sometimes violent manner. Slapstick is Mr. Bean exploding a can of paint to paint his apartment. Slapstick is Courage the Cowardly Dog’s eyes popping out of his sockets when he sees something scary. Slapstick is the ending of Polygon’s video on Slapstick and Doom Eternal (a very good video about slapstick and horror violence) where Pat Gill gets hit in the face with a tube of paper.
The excessiveness of slapstick creates a non-reality for viewers to enjoy in safety. It is a type of humor that revels in the suspension of reality, but more than that, it is a type of humor that you particularly gain enjoyment from because of the fact that it’s not happening to YOU.
Now, I use slapstick comedy sometimes, but I deviate from excessiveness and instead lean more into that last thing I said. I write situations that are funny and that you also don’t want to ever happen to you as a person. One example of “fuck, that’s hilarious, but I hope it never happens to me” is the following scene from Spiderman: Into The Spider Verse, where Miles Morales, invisible, has to find information on Doctor Octavia’s computer. When he accesses the computer, he is met with this.
You don’t want this to happen to you. But damn is it hilarious that it’s happening to somebody else.
When I am creating scenes that I want to be funny, I think about whether or not it would be funnier if I made it excruciating for the characters involved. So excruciating that you really, really, wouldn’t want to be in that situation. An example of this technique in play is from chapter 4 of the high school au, where the gang are in a room they shouldn’t be in, somebody is about to come in and stop them, and they are all at the mercy of a program slowly, slowly uploading.
“Hey!” The somebody outside says, jangling the doorknob more violently. “Club time is over, nobody should be in this room!”
“Vang0, how long until the program is done?” Dasha hisses.
“43% Uploaded,” Vang0 says, panicked.
“Hurry.”
“I can’t make technology be faster.”
“Who’s in there!” The person outside yells.
“Should I answer?” Burger asks.
“Do not answer.” Dasha says.
Burger nods. “I’m gonna answer.”
“BURGER—”
“WE’RE JUST A COUPLE OF NOT FRIENDS. JUST LOOKING AROUND.”
“Who are you!” The person outside yells.
“Do not answer, Burger,” Dasha says, sounding like this conversation is actively shaving years off of her lifespan.
“But he’s asking,” Burger looks at Dasha then at the door then at Dasha again, looking very nervous.
“Just lie then,” Dasha tells Burger.
“Gotcha,” Burger nods, determined, and turns to the door to yell. “I’M NOT BURGER CHAINZ.”
“Oh my god,” Dasha thunks her head onto Vang0’s shoulder. “Is it done loading, yet?”
“98% Uploaded,” Vang0 says, feeling his blood pressure in a way he’s never felt before.
I make this situation worse for the characters by making Burger completely fail at being stealthy. As one reader told me about this chapter “I love Burger, but if I were in that room, I would strangle him.” Exactly! It’s not a situation you’d ever want to be in!
But the characters are in it and you get to enjoy their suffering from a safe vantage point as a reader.
Slapstick comedy is all about making situations outrageous and ridiculous and something readers wouldn’t want to legitimately experience. It’s about tapping into your audience’s mind and wondering what they want to see but not want to go through.
And last but not least!
CHEKOV’S GAG: If the gun is there, it better be funny
The principle of Chekov’s Gun is a principle that emphasizes that objects in a story should have a use. According to Bill in Chekhov: The Silent Voice of Freedom, Chekov says “If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there.”
Chekov’s Gag is that same rule, but instead of the gun going off, the gun better be fucking hilarious at some point.
The first example I can think of is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. In the beginning of the movie, King Arthur stops by a castle and asks the guards to tell their master that he is here. This exchange happens:
Now, this, on its own, is already hilarious. It plays on incongruence (guards being very enthusiastic about bird’s holding coconuts and the logistics of that), slapstick (if you were Arthur and you wanted to have a simple conversation, people suddenly talking about birds and ignoring you is not a situation you want to be in), but what about Chekov’s Gag?
To become Chekov’s Gag, this situation must be brought up again in a funny manner later in the movie.
And so it does.
An hour later in the movie, The Knights of Camelot are at the Bridge of Death. There, they have to answer 3 questions correctly. If they do not have an answer, they are shot into a deadly cavern of doom.
King Arthur steps up to answer his 3 questions. Here is what happens:
The African swallow or the European swallow has achieved Chekov’s Gag-age.
Chekov’s Gag is something I’ve only started doing recently, in fanfiction. An example of this in the high school au is that, in the first chapter, I introduce two things. 1) Peter, an overfed pigeon, and 2) Robbie the RoboDog, an animatronic of the school.
Throughout the fic, I don’t forget about Peter or Robbie. I bring them up again and again and I make sure to make their presence not just integral to the winning of the final boss battle in chapter 6, but I make their presence funny.
Chekov’s Gag is a new trick I’ve started doing, and it definitely requires foresight and planning. It makes you think long term but at the same time forces you to think about the things you already have present in your story and make you re-evaluate just how else they could be used. If done correctly, the effect is hilarity, but also deep, deep satisfaction.
So there we have it! Three humor techniques that I use in my fanfiction. Shit that doesn’t make sense, shit you don’t want happening to you, and shit that you saw a while ago which you’ll see again later and when you do, it’ll be awesome.
Thanks for reading!
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Helena’s Skin
Chapters: 1/1
Words: 4500+
Pairing: Original female character of color/Tom Hiddleston
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Angst, Horror
I’ve also posted this on AO3
There’s pictures there, in case you want some bonus content.
Story Playlist, for optimal reading experience : Here
Phew..this plot bunny was running around for a HOT minute! I'm not sure what my obsession is with stories that deal with betrayal of some sort...but I think I'm just a slut for some angst. Also, I've been listening to a ton of silent hill soundtracks, which put me in the mood to write something depressing. And goodness is that game good. This story is largely inspired by it, with some of the dialogue, text, and locations from the original game interwoven with my story. I changed things up a lot to follow the flow of my narrative though.
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Tom dreamt of her again that night.
Pale, blue-tinted skin. Dark sunken eyes. Her stiff, swaying feet. He could even see the chipped red nail polish on her toes with clarity.
The cruel memory was always, without fail, in perfect detail.
Over the years though, he had slowly come to accept it. The pills never helped to stop the nightmares, and no amount of avoiding sleep was going to help his case anyway.
He liked to think of it as penance.
As always, he jumped up from the bed in cold sweat. And from the cross look on his girlfriend’s face, he must’ve woken her up on accident as well.
“I’m...I’m sorry Jen,” He turned a bit to rub at her naked shoulder, and hoped the action would coax her back to sleep, “ Just another one of those falling dreams..”
“Hmrrph..” She shrugged off his hand, and turned to face away from him. Thankfully, it didn’t take much for her eyes to close once again.
Tom sighed, and rubbed at his face tiredly. Whenever he had that dream...he could never fall back to sleep. It was as if all the emotions of that day were renewed, and it was hard to shake them off until morning.
His therapist suggested he acknowledge what he felt, during this time. The sorrow. The regret. The guilt. The gut-wrenching pain.
And if he were to be completely honest, it worked most days.
Often, he would find himself scribbling away at his personal journal at 3 am, nursing a cup of tea.
He wrote about how much he wished he could reverse time. The words he could have taken back, and the words he could have said instead. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, and that he regretted ever leaving her.
Helena. Her name was Helena, but he could never bring himself to write it out. Just referred to her vaguely with pronouns.
But tonight...he couldn’t even bring himself to write. The dream was especially vivid this time around, to a disturbing degree. He could even smell the stench.
What’s worse, that smell was just as he remembered it three years ago.
Tom resisted the urge to throw up at the thought of it, and stumbled out of bed to the bathroom. He turned on the sink, and splashed the coldest water he could onto his face.
That probably wasn’t the best thing to do, either. He could still see her, swaying in that dark room against his closed eyelids.
His eyes shot open immediately, and he found himself dry heaving into the sink.
“Fuck…” he cursed silently, as his eyes began to well with tears.
It was going to be another one of those nights, and the only thing he could do was suffer through the dark memories until morning.
Slowly, he made his way to the kitchen. There was little tea could do at this stage, but it was a welcomed distraction.
“You’re really leaving...aren’t you?”
Her voice was soft, softer than it usually was.
All the yelling and screaming must have destroyed every malice she could have mustered in her body.
Her dark brown eyes were downcast, red-rimmed with sorrow.
“Lena. No...Helena. I never wanted for any of this to happen.” Although Tom intended to sound a bit caring, the words left his mouth with harsh coldness.
“I love Jen too much. Too much to stay...I’m sorry. Please understand.”
His wife looked up at him then. Her chapped lips trembled immensely with bridled anger. And even though her long hair was rather unkempt, he could still see the glare she sent his way through her bangs.
“Five...f..five years Tom. You’re r-really going to...to throw it all away for that..for..for her?”
Tears spilled from her eyes as she stuttered in anguish, and she fisted the fabric of her dress painfully as she continued, “ I... I love you so much, Tommy. I never meant anything I said...I was sick and -“
“Stop with that!” Helena was startled, and she stared up at him with wide eyes. Throughout their argument, this was the first time he had yelled so loudly at her.
His eyes were narrowed, shoulders squared. He was the embodiment of hostility.
“Don’t say things that you don’t fucking mean.”
Tom didn’t wait for her to reply. He grabbed his jacket, and left the house with a slam to the door. He’d pick up his belongings later, after he cooled down.
Although Helena infuriated him, he could never forgive himself if he hurt her physically. A part of him still loved her, even if it was small.
They were married for five years after all. He couldn’t necessarily forget it all, no matter how much he wished it was possible.
Their marriage...it was a happy one, at first. He remembered the day when he met her, how stunned he was by her beauty and tenderness.
He loved how her brown eyes looked against the sunlight, and the lone dimple that revealed itself when she smiled. He loved her gentle voice, when she would tell him about her day. Everything. He loved everything about this woman. Down from the hair, right to the toes.
However… things took a sharp turn for the worst when she became ill.
The doctors were clueless about what it was. It attacked her body so quickly and suddenly, no one could do much to help her ailing health.
Slowly but surely, she began to lose her glow.
Her smiling face was replaced with an ugly snarl, her body became skin and bones, and her kind words transformed into insults that aimed to shred at his heart.
She pushed him away with every chance she could, when all he wanted was to be there for the woman he loved.
So, who could blame him for straying?
Jennifer was kind, new, and beautiful. Everything that Helena was, but now wasn’t.
It didn’t matter to him that she was good friends with his wife. Surely, Helena would rather it be Jen than some stranger.
But now, she wanted to take back all those words of hatred, and backtrack like a coward. She begged for him to stay, despite all the times she pushed him away.
Her insults drove away the guilt whenever he went to Jennifer for solace. But if she decided to just take it all back now… where did that leave him?
Tom stewed like that for hours, walking about the neighborhood before he decided to make his way back to the house. It was late morning when he left, but the skies were already starting to darken.
Time flies when you’re upset, it seemed.
He readied and steeled himself to face her again. He was going to pack the rest of his things, and then leave.
For good this time.
But he hated that his heart still ached at the thought of it, despite everything that she put him through.
Tom entered the house cautiously, and searched for any signs of his wife. When he left, she was still sitting on the living room couch. Hours had gone by, so he wasn’t sure why he still expected her to be there.
Worst case scenario, she was in their bedroom. With how erratic she’d been acting lately, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she tried to prevent him from leaving.
Best case scenario, she was asleep in there. Her illness made her extremely weak, which caused her to sleep more often than not.
Tom found himself in front of the door, hand frozen on the knob.
He was tired, tired from all the fighting. If possible, he wanted to ignore her as he quietly gathered his things together.
With these thoughts in mind, he opened the door -
To the sight of Helena’s feet hovering above the floor.
“Tom, Tom? Thomas!”
He jumped from the kitchen table, and knocked his knee on it in surprise.
He grimaced, and looked up at Jennifer who gave him a worried look.
“Why are you out here? You even fell asleep..”
Tom looked around his surroundings, disoriented. He fell asleep?
He remembered coming to the kitchen to make some tea for his nerves. But before he realized it…
“I’m not sure how that happened...I’m sorry Jen.”
“..It’s okay, Tom. Are you feeling okay..?” She placed her hand on his forehead, her voice tinged with concern, “ You can call out sick, you know? Talk to me,”
Tom stiffened. He contemplated many times, talking to Jennifer about his dreams. But...she had been badly affected by Helena’s death as well.
She was friends with her, after all. Jen felt just as much guilt and shame that he did.
But Jennifer refused to talk about it, about her. Her way of coping was to forget Helena ever existed for her own sanity.
They were both monsters, monsters who drove the one they cared about to her death. They truly deserved one another.
Tom only shook his head at her question, and attempted to reassure her with a weak smile, “I’m fine, honest. But I’ll call out today...I’ve been working too much at the office.”
Jennifer didn’t pursue the topic any further, and returned his smile. “ Thank gosh, you’ve been taking way too many hours. Just relax for once,”
He watched as she moved about the kitchen through tired eyes, to fix herself some coffee. “There’s some mail on the table, by the way. I picked them up before I came in here.”
Now that she mentioned it, there was a small pile of envelopes on the table. He looked at them all indifferently, and dismissed the majority of them as junk or bills.
“..I’ll sift through them. Make me a cup as well, would you?”
He dragged the pile in front of him, and wiped his eyes to take away some of the droopiness.
He cracked his neck, and massaged his shoulder with a hand as he began to look through the mail. Like he expected, there were some bills, some junk… and..
A beige, worn out envelope that was sealed with red wax.
But the look of the envelope wasn’t what caught his eyes. It was the name on it that caused Tom’s throat to go dry, and his sweat to grow cold.
From: Helena
There wasn’t a return address, just her name.
Was this some sort of sick joke?
Unless it was possible for a dead woman to send letters, then the likelihood that it was his Helena that sent it was extremely low.
Still though...his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Why did he feel so terrified?
First the nightmares, now this.
“Hey..everything okay?” Jen placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, and sat at the table, “You’ve been staring at that for a good minute now...is the bill that much?”
She took a sip of her own coffee, her voice lightly teasing.
“What? Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Tom quickly snapped out of it, and tossed the envelope aside as casually as he could, “Just some junk.”
Tom wasn’t sure what possessed him to take the envelope with him on his run.
Despite everything that told him to leave it closed, to leave it unread, he also felt the urgent need to keep it by his side.
He ran through a secluded park, with the envelope stuffed in his jacket pocket. If he was going to read it, he didn’t want Jennifer to know. Especially if it was actually from... her.
There was a drizzle earlier on, so the park benches were rather wet. However, he didn’t care as he plopped down to sit, and reached into his jacket pocket for the envelope.
A stray droplet of water from the overhanging tree fell on the envelope, as he sat and stared at it in silence.
Tom felt that he was probably overreacting. No, he most definitely was. There was no way on earth it was from his Helena. The same Helena who he still loved, to this very day. The same woman who took her own life that fateful evening.
He was only going to set himself for extreme disappointment if he hoped for that much.
Tom held his breath, and tore open the envelope without any regard for the wax seal.
And as he read its contents, the entire world came to a standstill.
In my restless dreams,
I see that town.
Silent Hill.
You promised me you'd take me
there again someday.
But you never did.
Well, I'm alone there now...
In our 'special place'...
Waiting for you...
Waiting for you to come to see me.
I know I’ve done some terrible things to you.
Something you’ll never forgive me for.
I wish I could change that, but I can’t.
I just...didn’t want you to see me like that anymore.
That ugly, repulsive me.
I was so angry all the time, and I
struck out at everyone I loved most.
Especially you, Tommy.
That's why I understand if you hate me, even now.
But I want you to know this.
I'll always love you.
And I want to see you, no matter how long it takes.
I’ll always be here…waiting.
With love,
Lena
He remembered her handwriting. Her letters were always scribbled elegantly, but felt rushed at the same time. This was written by her. There was no doubt about it in his soul. He could even hear her gentle voice as he read it.
The emotions Tom currently felt was like a kaleidoscope. Confusion, hope. Sorrow, fear. And above all, excitement.
Excitement, at the small, unlikely chance that she was still alive.
Even if it didn’t make sense, even if it went against all reason. Even if he had been the one to pull her dead body from the ceiling himself.
If he had the chance to see her again...just once more…
He was going to take it.
-----
Tom vaguely remembered that town she spoke of, in the letter.
Silent hill.
They went there once, for their honeymoon. It was a foggy little town, ways out in the middle of nowhere. Although it was scarcely populated, it was beautiful.
Helena had a strange obsession with the town, and she begged him constantly to take her back. But he was the type to enjoy the hustle and bustle of people, and the town was far too quiet for his liking.
Quiet to the point of being unsettling.
So although she begged him practically every year, he would always dredge up some excuse as to why they couldn’t go.
But now here he was, on his way to that very town against all sense.
“This place...isn’t it a bit too creepy for a resort?” Jennifer’s voice broke the silence in the car, and reminded him that he was not alone. Her eyes were trained outside the window, with furrowed brows.
Tom ground his teeth in frustration. He couldn’t come up with a proper excuse, as to why he wanted to leave so suddenly without arousing suspicion.
So...he disguised the trip as a mini-vacation, for the both of them. It would have been extremely preferable if he came alone... but he’d figure something out, eventually.
“It’s supposed to be a quiet, peaceful getaway. We’ve been needing some of that for a while now,” Tom said, in a nonchalant tone. “Besides, it’s only for a day or two.”
“Eh...I guess,” Jennifer still sounded thoroughly unconvinced, as they passed by the dilapidated welcome sign of the town. “I just thought it’d be, I don’t know...well kept?”
“It’s a part of the charm.” Tom wasn’t sure if he wanted to convince her, or himself with that statement.
Jen had a point. It’s been years since he came to this place, but he remembered that there was a decent amount of people that lived here.
Although the area was indeed very quiet...it definitely wasn’t a ghost town like he was seeing.
They were well inside the town now, but they still had yet to see anyone. The oppressive fog didn’t help matters either. He glanced down at the map on his lap, just to make sure they were going in the right direction.
“Hey...do you think we should just turn around? It looks pretty abandoned,”
Jennifer worried at her lip, her expression uncertain.
“...Like I said. A part of the charm. We’ll see some people, eventually.”
He could feel her anxiety from the passenger seat, and it started to affect his own mood.
The only thing that kept him from turning the car around, was Helena. The prospect of possibly seeing her again was too great a temptation.
But the question is...where was she, exactly?
Helena mentioned something about a ‘special’ place in the letter. That she’d be waiting for him there. But there were just so many possibilities… because this whole town was their special place.
Did she mean the park, by the lake? They would spend hours sitting on the bench...just the two of them, staring at the water. In their own little world.
Could Helena truly be alive...waiting for him there? The man who betrayed her so cruelly?
“Tom...Tom!!”
At Jen's sudden screech, Tom hit the brakes immediately, which caused the car to lurch forward violently.
He looked at her, as his heart thrummed against his chest, “What, what is it!”
“There.. right there, there was... there was..!”
She looked absolutely terrified, as she stared outside of the passenger window.
“Jen, calm down! What did you see?”
She didn’t look at him at all, and continued to stare outside the window, “In the fog. I saw a lady..and she.. she looked like… she was just right there..!”
Tom couldn’t make sense of what she wanted to say at all. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and addressed her once again, “I know you’re paranoid, Jen. But please, just calm down. It was probably just a resident.”
He really wished he came here alone all the more.
Jennifer was really shaken up, for whatever reason. And she went silent for the rest of the ride. Though, he certainly wasn’t about to complain about that.
Eventually, they saw a large building in the distance, right alongside the lake they’d been driving by.
Lake View Hotel. The same hotel where he stayed with Helena, on their honeymoon.
“...We’re here.”
Tom parked right by the curb of the sidewalk, a reasonable distance from the building.
But...something wasn’t quite right.
When he first came here with Helena, he clearly remembered that the hotel was on the other side of the lake, and they had to cross it with a rowboat. It was surrounded by a body of water, after all. And it was only accessible by a boardwalk.
However, the building was on this side instead. Completely opposite from what he remembered.
He decided not to think too deeply about it, though. Years had passed, and things might’ve changed.
“Wait, we’re getting out here?!” Jennifer asked in disbelief, her voice raised. The area was run-down, foggy, and quite frankly, disgusting. Tom couldn’t even blame her for her discomfort.
“Yes, Jen. There’s nowhere else to park,” he said, and exited the car first. “Come on, before it starts to get dark.”
Jennifer left the car with extreme hesitancy, and crossed her arms to hug herself. “Tom...this...this is like a freaking ghost town! Are you sure we can’t just...go somewhere else?” She tried to reason with him...but it was like he was another person entirely when he replied.
“If that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you. Take the car.” He answered curtly, and began to walk ahead of her.
“I...what? Wait, please, Tom!” She ran up to him, and grabbed his arm, “What do you mean take the car?! You know I can’t drive. And I can’t just leave you behind! This...this isn’t like you,” Jennifer attempted to turn him towards her, but he remained stiff.
“...Did you ever really know me, Jen?”
When he finally looked at her, Jennifer took a step back due to his scary expression. “Because I don’t think you do. Not like Lena did anyway.”
“Len...Helena? Why..what does she have to do with this?!”
Jen immediately went on the defensive, and matched his hostile energy.
“She has everything to do with this! You were her friend, and she was my wife. Yet you refuse to even talk about her-”
“She killed herself! She left us behind! Even before that, she treated you like shit! She broke your heart...and I was the one who picked up the fucking pieces!”
The argument had escalated extremely quickly. But Tom didn’t care.
“How..how fucking dar-”
Tom didn’t even get to finish his sentence. He had blinked his eyes for even less than a second.
And then she was gone.
Tom was stunned, and didn’t register what happened.
His mouth was left open as the sentence died on his lips.
“Huh..?”
He looked around disoriented, whiplashed, and confused.
What? How? Where..What?
These were the questions that ran rampant inside his mind, as he looked about frantically for the woman he was just fighting with.
Jennifer was just right there, in front of him. He even remembered her angered expression clearly. But he had barely blinked his eyes before she disappeared into thin air.
She didn’t even scream.
Tom’s bones were weak from fear and confusion. He felt nauseous.
“..Jen? Jennifer? Jennifer!” He began to walk ahead, almost running, and screamed into the fog.
He walked around the area, and yelled her name like that for what felt like hours. But what answered him back were the endless echoes beyond the mist.
“Where...where the hell..?” Tom was out of breath, his body wrought with fear and exhaustion. He brought his hands to his knees and hunched over.
He came here to find Helena. He just wanted to see his wife again, to talk to her one last time. Even if it were some sort of delusion he concocted to stay sane.
But now..even Jennifer was...
He tried not to think about that possibility. Jennifer had to be alright. She had somewhere in this godforsaken town.
Tom looked up from his knees, and up at the large building ahead. Lakeview hotel.
He was going to start there.
Inside the hotel was a stark contrast to the rest of the town. While the outside was in a state of disrepair...the inside of the hotel remained untouched by time. In fact...it was just as he remembered.
The only difference was...the lights were almost dim to the point of darkness, and he needed to use his phone light for added visibility.
“Jennifer..? Are you in here?” Tom called out, as he walked the halls of the hotel. He passed the receptionist’s desk, and moved towards the elevator in the distance.
Despite the apparent lack of proper electricity, it still seemed to function perfectly.
According to the elevator, there were six floors in total.
And without hesitation, he immediately chose the third floor.
Jennifer could have been on the first two floors, for all he knew. He could have searched every room, every corner.
However..he and Helena stayed in room 312 for their honeymoon.
It was a beautiful room, he remembered. There were large windows, and the view of the lake was extraordinary.
As Tom felt the elevator move, and watched as the numbers slowly rose to three...he recalled a memory.
“Goodness...isn’t it beautiful, Tommy?”
Tom watched as his beloved sat by the window, her hand pressed against the glass.
“I’m so glad we came here...it’s peaceful.”
He laughed, and moved closer to sit next to his wife. He draped his arms around her shoulders, and pulled her closely to his chest.
“I think it’s a bit too peaceful, though. I’m not sure how you convinced me to come, but,”
Tom breathed in the scent of her hair, and closed his eyes. “I agree, it is beautiful. Hazy and mysterious, just like a dream. It reminds me of you.”
Her embarrassed laugh echoed throughout the room, and she nuzzled her head further into his neck. “Hehe...you’re such a charmer.”
She tightened her arms around his body. Her next words were whispered faintly, but he heard her clearly through the quiet of the room.
“But if this is a dream...I don’t ever want to wake up.”
Tom stood inside the room. By the large window, was a figure.
Her hair was a short, dusty blonde, and she wore a white floral dress.
The same dress that Helena wore that day on their honeymoon.
However...his wife was far from blonde.
The only blonde he knew was Jennifer.
“Jen..Jennifer? Is that you..?” She turned to look at him, instead of the window.
As soon as he saw her face, his suspicions were confirmed.
“Oh.. oh thank goodness,” Tom breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that his hunch was correct. He didn’t know why she suddenly appeared in this room, but was pleased that he found her this quickly.
“Jen, you were right. We..we shouldn’t stay here…”
Jennifer only looked at him with a confused expression, and approached him with an air of worry.
“Tommy, did something happen to you? Are you...confusing me with someone else?”
Tom looked at her like she was crazy. “What? Jen, what are you on about..? And why are you wearing that..”
Jennifer had never, not once, referred to him as ‘Tommy’ in the three years they had been together. That was Helena’s endearment, and no one else’s.
She giggled, the sound of it melodic and gentle. “Oh, Tommy...you were always so forgetful. Remember that time, when you got lost trying to find our room at this hotel? I almost had to call a search party!”
She laughed once again, this time unrestrained. He recognized that beautiful laughter.
“Aren’t…” Tom’s throat felt impossibly dry. “Aren’t you Jennifer?”
Jennifer went silent. Her smile deepened, and her eyes darkened from their previous shade of blue.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m here for you, Tom.”
He didn’t move an inch as she approached him.
Slowly, she removed the straps of her dress.
He allowed her to take his hand, and she placed it on top of her naked chest.
Tom didn’t realize it, but his face was drenched with tears. He squeezed the softness of her flesh, and his nails dug to the point it drew blood.
It was warm. He held his blood-stained fingers up to his face.
Before him, stood a woman with dark brown eyes, that would reflect beautifully against the sun.
Before him, stood a woman with the gentlest voice.
Before him, stood a woman with long dark hair, that ended right below her shoulders.
Helena smiled a sickly sweet smile. She took his hand once again, and moved it to cup her face.
“...See? I’m real.”
#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston fanfiction#tom hiddleston fic#Tom Hiddleston fandom#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#silent hill#silent hill 2
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Something something Tarot Card Project something.
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Context under the cut, in order of appearance:
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Kyo - The Fool ( Hear me out.)
Symbolizing new beginning, adventure, opportunities, pleasure, etc. It reflects how when Lifonse and Kamui first met him (from his perspective), he suddenly took a drastic turn in his life with opening new opportunities (becoming a summoner, stabilizing his power to go from a ditto to a ditto-mew, getting his first legendary in Zacian and encountering others, finding his ex and making amends to be on surprisingly good terms with him, having lovers who immediately love him, etc), of which his stinkiness nearly self-sabotaged in his apprehension, his guardedness, and (more sympathetically) him managing his past experiences and traumas, of which had Lifonse and Kamui not been so patient, supportive and loving as they had, there were so many opportunities he could've ruined for himself. This incarnation of him even gained more lovers than his past self (in Eclair and then Kaze), and in a moment of humbling himself and realizing in full of the weight of his failings and foolishness, it had a profound effect in Zacian for her to knight him, proclaiming herself as his to officially train.
For the reverse, this also winds up heavily symbolizing his past-self, who became present-Kyo's fallen alt, who did wind up self-sabotaging things by causing a lot of trauma that lingered in Kamui and Lifonse, who went a completely different direction in life from the present Kyo, and was woefully apathetic and uncaring to Lifonse and Kamui as a whole compared to present-Kyo not only opening up and genuinely loving them more, but making strides to change himself for the better for their sake, too. There were many scars he left behind in Lifonse and Kamui that negatively impacted even present-Kyo’s relationship with them, and the only moment he had a saving grace was just before his death, and ruined just as quickly when Hel claimed him as one of her new cohorts. Worth also noting that unlike the present Kyo, whose power stabilized his ditto genes to be mew-like, past-Kyo didn’t develop nearly as pronounced a bond to do the same, and thus, lacked their connection to a mew.
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Ephrel - The Chariot
In reverse, the feeling of defeat, being vanquished, lost, etc. Were all feelings that reflected how Ephrel was in the eyes of Sparrow's Order of Heroes prior to Sparrow's official status as summoner (of which Chrom's was unofficial before her). They were completely forgotten to the point they didn't even have a name attached other than "former summoner/previous summoner", the circumstances of why they were gone were almost entirely unheard of or guesswork, and there seemed far too much haste to try to forget them as much as possible in favor of moving on with Sparrow, satisfied to keep their fate unknown with very few to give a fuck otherwise (like Chrom, then Sparrow based on Chrom's own unwavering hope to find out what happened once learning Ephrel had a life after their robinsona).
The process of finding Spectabilis, then deciding to redeem them rather than kill them (which would be far easier and inconsequential), was what flips The Chariot upright: Reflecting the long, rocky road Chrom persevered to press forward to, and meet up to free Ephrel from a fate of stagnancy, rather than just leave it at accepting his replacement Robins and moving on without them like everyone else. This action was what allowed Ephrel's live to continue forward, and to reveal more of themself they didn't flesh out even in their robinsona days.
Initially, I debated on whether or not Chrom and Ephrel fit to be literally riding something, but I find it even more fitting that Chrom himself served as “the chariot”, having carried the toils and burdens from the point he lost Ephrel, to the long, exhausting journey to retrieve them again.
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Erin - The Hanged Man
As her supports (but especially Lif, Ryoma, and to some degree Camilla from the start) knew too well (and Hrid eventually caught up on and was rightfully horrified of and clingy afterwards about), Erin came from a very harsh life prior to being a summoner, where she was suffocated, controlled, manipulated, and worked to the ground, to the point she nearly made a very costly, risky mistake of her own self prior to her Breidablik summoning her (of which I'll remain brief and vague here as it's not the biggest point this time). The damage was still done, as she still was left a broken shell, fully welcoming anyone to pull her strings as she was heavily conditioned to expect, all with a weak will, self-worth and agency. All of which line up with the reversed Hang Man's meaning of useless sacrifice, unwillingness to change, and knowingly heading on to bad decision after bad outcome. The arms of her past try greedily to drag her back to the life she had once escaped from.
The upright version of this reflected readjustment, improvement, and rebirth: All of which carried the same elements to how her supports could see she was a completely different person underneath the broken mess she was initially left as, and needed support, love, and gentle coaxing to come out in her own accord. This then led to a very massive shift to what she later turned into presently from where she started off before: As someone bold, brash, more willing to show herself, and more engaged as her own self with her own decisions. Even in free-fall, she gained her freedom, and more, thanks to her supports, gained her wings figuratively and literally (as a manakete) to take flight by her own will.
---
Teru - Death
In reverse, Teru had indeed followed a lot of relationships that couldn't fully serve him or be as realized as he needed them to be at the time he needed it most (Kyo, before The Incident nearly ruined even their friendship, and definitely ruined their relationship. Then Ryoma, before Garon took that away from him as well.). His Order of Heroes failed him, his initial Askr was doomed, and he had to be a pillar of strength and protection to his pokemon and them in a time he himself desperately needed someone to rely on and protect him instead in his ailing strength and health. In the form he took prior to decimating his former connected World of Fates, one prominent feature in the missingno form he took at the time was carrying the fragmented headgear of his fallen past lover.
Upright, even in the point where Teru changed his life for the better, it took massive sacrifices and struggles on his part to get there. He has a chronic illness that can make him incredibly godly in power in the best of times, but also worryingly and critically frail and weak in most other times, all through his missingno powers he's still not able to entirely control. He had done the impossible in cheating death so many times from being a missingno, to surviving Conquest, to taking the Heart's Rite head on and living to tell the tale, but such bragging rights rang hallow for the sacrifices he made and the unspeakable levels of agony and pain he endured while subjected to them. He cheated death, yet at what cost? But even when he reached his lowest, his life did start anew as he grew past his traumas just enough to learn to grow and feel again, and for the better. After all, "third time's the charm".
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Sparrow - The Star
Where she started, she was homeless, abandoned by the world, and left to die. Forgotten. Uncared for. Unconcerned. Just another number and another sad life wasted. Like the reverse, she started in a point she was made acutely aware how little her skills mattered (it certainly didn't spare her the life of poverty), how bad her luck was (despite her best efforts, she still failed), and her only future was one that was coming to an end (crushed dreams unrealized in favor of being left to starve to death to the harsh elements outdoors). In her hands were the concept of a Crest of Fate bestowed to her, marking her as a digidestined. But even this “blessing” was in actuality a fake crest of the Grimeal, and what led to long-term damage to her and her digimon when the ruse was up.
It was Chrom who summoned her, and it was because of his patience to help save her and get her on her feet again did her hopes turn around, and her card meaning with it. Upright, she had a second chance in a new life, a new environment, and with opportunities she only barely touched the surface of that were fully realized in looking to it again in Askr (her digimon, who she didn't physically interact with until Chrom upset her digimon partners upon realizing why Sparrow didn't check up on them (of which she downplayed her life cuz, well, she thought it was a game), revealing themselves in full). She found love, she found insight, and she found a new power she learned to harness to make a better use of her skills when she thought a more direct approach was lacking (a healer, when she wasn't physically strong enough to take up another weapon yet). She stayed calm, positive, hopeful, and tried to extend the same hope Chrom shared to her to others she found along the way, which led to Robin, Lyon, and then Ephrel finding their own hopes as well. In her hands was a digi-egg of Destiny (sometimes alternatively known as the digimental of fate), which manifested itself when Breidablik resonated with both Sparrow and Ephrel. As a united force, they finally gained the hard-earned role of digidestined as a duo legendary-mythic unit.
---
Eclair - Judgement
A lot of Eclair's point of major growth in power and character all fell back on Thorr's most powerful ability: Judgement. This power was the power that could completely and utterly decimate entire countries with the single swing of her hammer, and she isn't afraid to flex, and in ways Eclair saw for himself are fickle and self-righteous (particularly as she and Teru declared war on one another for the sake of protecting Nohr or wiping it off the face of Fates, but did nothing to interfere with the Nohr Teru himself destroyed in his own world). This fickle nature, this self-serving attitude and logic path Thorr decides when to enact her judgement or not, struck the biggest fear in Eclair and caused untold amounts of stress, worries, and panic attacks of being his greatest failure of seeing everyone wiped away from his life (like the fate he himself escaped as a forma) if he couldn't successfully stop his own mother. All of which are fears of the reverse Judgement. Even when she left her mark in other timelines and what-could’ve-beens, she struck fear in Eclair’s supports making such outcomes prominently known for them to stew on. Including an alternative outcome of her taking hold of some manner of Alfonse and overloading him into a temporal threat.
But upright, it also reflects awakening, renewal, a better health and mind fully realized. The point Eclair began fearing his mother and aunt most was also the point his powers started manifesting the most when his family, friends and supports made their own will clear of wanting to protect him. It was also the point he fully realized that form of will that comes from love and the power it held that heavily contrasted the will Thorr took interest in that comes from despair. This eventually was fully realized in his fully powered form, Magni, and his power as the Divine Shield to completely cancel out Thorr's Judgement attack, and thus, force her to bring herself down to the same even footing as the mortals when she can't simply delete them off the earth with a swing anymore. This resolve is also what resonated with why Zamazenta similarly trusts him, and thus, fully established Eclair's mythic alt.
#Zacian#Zamazenta#Thorr#Hel#Chrom#Alfonse#Summoner OC#FEH OC#Summoner OC Kyo#Summoner OC Ephrel#Summoner OC Erin#Summoner OC Teru#Summoner OC Sparrow#Summoner OC Eclair#mew gijinka#Pokemon#Fire Emblem Awakening#Fire Emblem Heroes#FEH#My kiransona things#my art#Yes I've been rather busy and bit more than I can chew
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ayyyyy happy 4/13 have my second list of classpects, vox machina edition! (@lostsometime to add to the homestuck au)
(m9 here)
vex - thief of mind
vax - rogue of blood
percy - witch of light
keyleth - page of breath
scanlan - thief of life
grog - prince of rage
pike - heir of space
tary - witch of mind
first off, there are a couple copies here, and they don’t have a time player, so vox machina on their own could not win the game. but hey, weird plot shit exists, and the alpha kids managed it by combining their session with the beta kids, so who knows how this would go
(explanations under the cut)
1) vex - thief of mind
vex has a lot of ideas about her sense of self. but when you get right down to it, none of them are actually about her sense of self, and rather about how people see her. image is important to mind players, but it’s not really linked with identity. in fact, the canon description of mind players states they have very fluid, shifting concepts of identity, it’s far more important to them that they remain rational and have a logical line of reasoning than sticking to things just because they feel right or wrong. and i think this is very true for vex, she doesn’t often doubt herself, but she doesn’t really know who she is, beyond just what she’s trying to emulate or avoid.
thief bc she’s still one of the stealth twins, it is very her thing, but she’s definitely the louder of the two, the thief demands to be known, the rogue quietly assists. she’s headstrong, stubborn, and the world owes her everything it’s taken from her, which she definitely plans to steal back. and honestly that’s her right and i love her.
2) vax - rogue of blood
god i really love the fact that the twins are a thief/rogue pair, it not only fits who they are as people but vex being the active version of vax’s passive class and vice versa fits so well
(also fun fact, i have something of a personality test/checklist i grade characters on when i’m struggling to figure out their class or feel like i’m being biased towards one particular classpect. there’s 15 possible points per class, most characters will get a highest score of maybe 9 or 10, homestuck characters get something like 12-13. vax, however, does what no one else has ever done, and scored all 15 points in rogue. he is more rogue per rogue than any rogue in homestuck. 100% pure distilled rogue boy.)
personality quizzes aside though, he really is so obviously a rogue. he’s got everything of the thief archetype built into his entire character, but while a homestuck thief steals by their own will and for their own benefit, all of the rogue’s same actions go towards supporting their friends. also, as a passive class, their decisions tend to be less personal drive based and more guided by their aspect, as if the universe was working through them, which is definitely the case for our champion of the raven queen. they’ve been described in canon as the robin hood class, rebellious, but in an altruistic way. true punk. fuck the system, love recklessly
blood players need a family. they draw their strength from the bonds they have with those around them, they’re stubborn as all hell, especially when it seems like there’s no way out of a situation, but it’s in determination to protect their chosen family and keep everyone safe and happy. if they’re leaders, they’re inspirational ones rather than commanding ones. and this is “dramatic speeches about teamwork and morality” vax, “what the fuck do we have in this world except for moments with each other” vax, “how lucky i have been to have had all of you” vax. what else could he be?
3) percy - witch of light
so percy’s an interesting one, because i kinda wanna give him two classpects? like, if you classpect percy before or during the briarwood arc, he’s a prince of light. after that, he becomes way more of a witch. (though, to be fair, light players and witches are both incredibly prone to getting possessed, so, maybe he was a witch all along and just acted really prince-y)
he’s definitely an active class, no doubt about it. percy will fight gods to achieve his own ends. prince, being the most active class, and one designed to cause destruction, definitely suits orthax percy. but then things change, and you realise what he actually is
witches are manipulator classes, like knights, but active manipulator classes. they can’t create things out of nothing like some classes do, but instead bend and twist and transform their aspect (and the world around them, using their aspect) to achieve their goals. percy’s human, and not magic. he doesn’t have any particular special abilities in order to do things, he gets by on ingenuity and reckless bravery. that post that was going around a while ago about how all of vox machina are basically gods and percy’s just a guy with a gun does well to prove the point here, because he keeps up anyway. he’s made mistakes and there are things in the world now that he can’t change, but he does his best to work within those constraints and make as good of a world as he can with what he has
and what he has, usually, is knowledge. which is the main dominion of the light aspect, along with luck (and, you know, taliesin and dice rolling). light players are scholars first and foremost, but very rarely bookish scholars, instead the kind of scholars that think they can make a demon deal and get away with it because they’re clever enough for that, and also they’re extra enough that they’d do it anyway for the aesthetic
4) keyleth - page of breath
this was the easiest of all of these for me to do, it just slots so neatly into place. pages are a slow moving class that have to work their way around all the side quests before they get a lot of their power, but after that they’re powerhouses. they’re easily underestimated, by others and by themselves. keyleth takes a while to come to terms with herself and her power and her effect on the world, most of the plot takes place within her slowly completing her aramente, she often worries she won’t be good enough for anything that’s expected of her, but once she hits level 20 she is a master of the elements, a true leader of her people, and literally unkillable.
breath fits for two reasons. the first is being the aspect of freedom, of acting without being controlled by anyone else’s thoughts or decisions. and keyleth, for all her anxiety and all her bad luck, has never made a choice she didn’t agree with. along with vax she’s the first to speak up when she feels like the group’s moral choices aren’t holding up to her standards, when they’re moving in a direction that isn’t right. the second is that it’s the aspect of air, and the wind, and she’s literally the leader of the air ashari. she can and does in fact do the windy thing
5) scanlan - thief of life
we’ve covered life already in my nott/veth explanation, but it really is so scanlan. look at this excerpt and tell me it’s not written for scanlan shorthalt
[If you're poisoned, chances are the Life-bound have something for what ails ya. This applies to both physical and mental suffering, though it might not be a cure you'll like. They also have the tendency to put other's needs before their own, which never ends well for anyone, because the Life-bound can grow bitter if they feel their own self-care has had to be shunted aside.]
figuring out class was harder? a lot of vox machina classes are pretty difficult to figure out. prince would work to an extent because of scanlan’s self destructive tendencies, bard would work to an extent because he often feels like things are out of his hands, but i think i’m going with thief. scanlan’s more of an active class, despite playing support in dnd, he’s very self motivated and not one to listen much to the guidance of the universe. thief i feel fits with the headstrong attitude, the creative out of the box thinking, and the need for attention in a very specific way (less so having people celebrate you, scanlan enjoys that but can easily shrug it off if it doesn’t happen, it’s more causing things for the sake of knowing and having other people know that you caused them)
6) grog - prince of rage
honestly this is the one i’d be most willing to bend on? it, took me forever to come up with any kind of classpect for grog, he seems to resist being classpected. i know a lot about him as a person, but translating that into either class or aspect was just hard. but i’ve gone with prince because grog’s never stopped for anyone (except maybe pike), because it’s a destruction based class, because it’s the most active on the scale, and grog is definitely one to go do things purely because he wants to do things and wants to do them now.
rage because rage players are about truth at all costs, even if that cost is often destabilizing entire systems and leaving the rubble to pick itself back up. and it makes me think about how grog has never really wanted to disguise himself, and especially about just before the kevdak fight - he knew he would probably get killed if he went back there as himself, but he refused to go in under false pretenses, because that wouldn’t be right
7) pike - heir of space
ashley’s just always drawn to those heirs. i think though with pike it definitely is a consequence of her being in and out a lot, because she’s not just an heir, she’s an heir of space.
heirs tend to stumble into their role rather than creating it or seeking it out. on a meta level, ashley only created pike because the team needed a cleric and she worked it out from there, but as far as pike herself is concerned, she doesn’t really know what she’s supposed to be doing or what her purpose is, but she’s been trying to do her best to follow sarenrae’s teachings, trying to do her best to guide her friends, and hoping that nothing goes wrong along the way.
space, too, is an aspect of patience. it’s about valuing the journey more than the destination, it’s about seeing what the universe has in store for you and trusting that it’s just as likely to turn out good as it is bad - you’ll know when the time comes to step in, at which point space players are pretty fierce fighters. but for now, for pike, it’s trying to help her friends one step at a time
8) tary - witch of mind
tary is like percy but cheating. he has a lot more resources to work with bc he just goes out and buys shit. but the witch reasoning still stands, they are very similar people in that respect, good at working within a set of restraints so well you don’t even notice the restraints are there
mind rather than light because, tary doesn’t quite hunger after knowledge in the same way. instead he’s much more concerned with the application of it, of how to get from point a to point b as efficiently as possible, and how that benefits him. (also because he’s not nearly as extra as light players. have you met light players? like i love them but jesus christ. who let them be Like That)
#i also have essek and gilmore classpected#but i only have so much writing energy in a day#so we're spacing these out#cr1#cr thoughts#text#meta#homestuck#classpects#vax'ildan#vex'ahlia#percy de rolo#keyleth#pike trickfoot#scanlan shorthalt#grog strongjaw#taryon darrington
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Hiiiii! Of course I have to come here and drop some prompts for you! Number 5 & 15, please? ⭐️
Thanks! I’m sorry this took so long to do and I also split it into two different pieces. I had a lot of fun writing them!
The prompts came from here: X.
5. “Why is it so hard for you to admit you love me?” (Deputy Blue Murphy x Joseph Seed) (593 words)
Blue knows that Joseph Seed loves them; He isn’t the kind of person to be shy about making it known. Joseph will tell Blue he loves them when they’re leaving to return to the Resistance, ready to rush into the thick of danger. He’ll say it when he is bandaging Blue’s wounds, begging them to be careful and to just come back in one piece. Joseph will say it over the radio when the pair are too busy to see each other. Every time he says those words, Blue can hear a few seconds of silence, hopeful that Blue might utter those words too. But Blue finds it difficult, unable to vocalize those words.
Like numerous other times, Blue sits in a chair at Joseph’s small table in his tiny cabin. He’s gently bandaging a wound on their forearm, nasty scratches from a stray cougar, who was attacking a lone Hope County citizen. Thankfully, Blue scared it off before the cougar could manage any real damage. “Thanks for this.” Blue breaks the silence, smiling at Joseph. They rub the back of their neck awkwardly, slightly guilty about jumping in front of danger.
“You need to be more careful; I don’t want to lose you.” He finishes the bandage, looking into Blue’s eyes. Joseph’s glasses are on the table beside him, his eyes full of concern. Placing his hand on the back of Blue’s neck, he presses their foreheads together. “I love you. I won’t lose you.”
They freeze, their heart starting to beat erratically. He always manages to fluster them with those words. Getting their heart under control, Blue jokes, “Ah, you know me. I sure as hell don’t go looking for danger, but it always seems to find me.”
Disappointment flashes on his face; eyes narrowing. “Why is it so hard for you to admit you love me?”
“I-uh-“ Blue stammers, knowing full well that the two were long overdue for this conversation.
“Every time I tell you ‘I love you’, you freeze up. Do you not believe that I mean those words? I have meant them every time I’ve said it.” His hands grasp the collar of Blue’s shirt, pulling them onto his lap. “If you need me to prove it, I am always happy to show you how much I love you.” Joseph murmurs, pulling them in for a kiss.
Blue places their hands on his chest, pushing away. “I don’t doubt that you love me, Joseph. I’ve always believed when you said it.”
He frowns, his head tilting to the side. “What ails your soul, Blue?”
Blue knows that Joseph would not judge them and most likely understand, but they’re at a loss how to explain they’ve always had trouble saying, ‘I love you’. Throughout their childhood, Blue understood that love could be wielded as a weapon, both physical and emotional. Their only two previous serious relationships never progressed to the ‘I Love You’ stage. This thing with Joseph is new to Blue and utterly fucking terrifying and vulnerable in some ways. However, Blue knows that they love him; that isn’t up for debate.
Swallowing, Blue stares deeply into his eyes. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel unloved or that I didn’t believe you. I love you. You know that I do.” Joseph’s eyes widen as Blue kisses him with desperate hunger. He eagerly returns the kiss, his hands dropping to rest on Blue’s hips. Pulling away to catch their breath, Blue laughs. “I love you a lot and it scares the fucking shit out of me.”
15. “You left me there to die” (An AU, Slight JosephxBlue) (809 Words)
(I think Pratt might be a little out of character in this one, but this is were it went.)
Staci Pratt crawls out of the wreckage, dazed and confused. After a few seconds, the previous events rush back to him. He, the Marshal, Sheriff Whitehorse, Hudson, and the new Junior Deputy were racing away from the Eden’s Gate compound. Something hit their truck, knocking them off the road and into the woods of Montana. Pratt catches something moving in the edge of his vision, reaching out for the pistol near him. A black boot knocks the gun away from him, unlocking the safety of the shotgun. The person’s face comes into clarity, and Pratt recognizes the former Junior Deputy, Blue Murphy. Pratt remembers Blue’s eyes always being warm and kind, none of that left now. “Please don’t do this” He begs, the shotgun pointed towards his face.
“You left me there to die.” Blue snarls, fury blazing in their eyes.
--
Pratt remembers the first failed attempt to arrest Joseph Seed. Blue had only been with Hope County PD for a short time but was planning to return to their old job in Colorado. Pratt was sad to see Blue go; He liked the new Junior Deputy. They had a loud, contagious laugh, and always joked with him and Hudson. He remembers Blue being reluctant about the arrest, mentioning a bad feeling about the whole situation. Pratt and Hudson had teased them about it, but he wished he had listened.
He can hear the Marshal yelling, as Blue and Sheriff Whitehorse step out of the church. “You’ll be fine, Rook. He’s just blowing hot air; we’ll get out of here just fine.” Sheriff Whitehorse attempts to comfort them. Pratt glances back inside the church, catching a glimpse of Joseph Seed. He’s never been afraid of Joseph Seed as he is in this moment. There’s a cold fury on the man’s face, a shiver running up his spine.
It’s not as fine as the Sheriff promised; Eden’s Gate still came after them. The Helicopter crashed, but the group managed to find a garage to hide in. Hudson and the Sheriff are working as fast as they can to fix the truck. On the Sheriff’s orders, Pratt and Blue do a sweep of the property. At the outskirts of the property, Blue and Pratt stumble upon a pair of peggies. Blue holds up a finger to their mouth, motioning for Pratt to be quiet. Pratt and Blue hide behind a pair of trees, hoping to glean something from the conversation. “The Father’s awfully interested in that Junior Deputy.”
Pratt glances over to Blue, a wave of slight panic washing over him. Blue looks horrified, utterly shaken by that revelation. “We should go.” Blue mouths. Pratt doesn’t argue with them.
It’s only a short distance before trouble strikes them again. The ground starts to crumble below him. “Watch out!” Blue yells, knocking Pratt out of the way. He falls over, his gun skidding away. Quickly grabbing his gun, Pratt turns around to find Blue stuck, leg wedged between two rocks. Blue takes a deep breath, smiling shakily at him. “Sorry. Thought I could get us both out of the way.”
“You hear that?” Blue and Pratt face the direction of the voices. Peggies. Shit.
Testing the rock, Blue lets out a sigh of relief. Looking hopefully at Pratt, Blue states “Listen. I think this rock might be loose. If you help me move it, we can be gone before the peggies get here.”
Pratt is frozen with indecision. He knows the right thing to do is to help his fellow officer, but a small part of him wonders if Eden’s Gate would let the others leave in peace if they had Blue. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, before running. He can’t look back at Blue, to see the betrayal on their face.
As he gets farther away, he can hear Blue beg, “NO! Please don’t hurt me! I didn’t do any-“
When Pratt returns to the others, he tells them Blue is dead. The look on Sheriff Whitehorse is that he knows it is a lie. Blue was better off dead than whatever fucked up torture the cult might put them through.
--
Blue can’t stand to hear their former friend beg, putting the misery to an end quickly. They shake, holstering the shotgun before it slips from their hands. “It’s done.” Blue says, their voice thick. Tears start to leak from their eyes, the weight of their actions hit them.
Joseph pulls them into a hug, rubbing their back. “You did what you had to do for your family. You protected us, the family who would never leave you behind.”
“I know.” Blue whispers, burying their face into the crook of his neck. Their hand desperately grasp the back of his jacket, leaning on Joseph for support. They know Joseph Seed won’t leave them to die, not like the Hope County PD.
#iammortis#kate writes#Joseph Seed#The Deputy#The Junior Deputy#I think these came out okay#my creative writing skills might be a little rusty#been doing too much academic writing for the last few years#also I hope everyone is in character for the most part#OTP: I had all and then most of you some and now none of you#the blue fic tag#blue murphy
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Through My Eyes
Pairing: Clem x Louis
Word Count: 1660
Summary: After having a horrid nightmare, Louis distances himself from the rest of the kids. To them, it's nothing new. For Clementine, she's determined to get to the bottom of it.
A/N: Long-time no see! This is based off an ask I received a while ago where an anon asked me to write a one-shot where Louis has a nightmare and remains closed off from the rest of the kids. I really wanted to explore Louis's family here and how they impacted his self-esteem/how even one thing we hear as children can leave a lasting impression (and yes I’m just gonna give the characters the last names of their VA from now on). I hope you enjoy :))
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Stop.
For one minute, he just wanted everything to stop.
It always began with the nightmares. At least once a week they would crawl into his head, attacking him at his weakest point. Sometimes they were about his family and the divide that he caused, other times they were about his long lost classmates, calling out his name yet he could never call back. After experiencing death and decay since childhood, they all lined up and repeated themselves like tracks on a broken CD. The same horrid imagery that once rendered him frozen in his tiny bed now only gave him a headache.
But he certainly wasn't ready for the darkness to turn his ray of sunshine - Clementine - into a monster, a physical form of every evil sensation, a vessel that his darkest thoughts could escape through.
Her voice didn't even sound like her. It wasn't soft like the tone she took to in the early mornings, wasn't strong whenever she listed off instructions or even delicate like the beautiful words she would share with him before the two would depart to bed. No. Whatever had possessed her was shrill. Each word she threw his way was like an icepick to the heart. "Better wake up before I die Louis. It'll be your fault if I do."
Louis pressed the same two keys over and over again. A and B and A and B. His thoughts held a new weight to them now that they had slithered out of Clementine's mouth. "She's gonna think you're crazy if you tell her about the dream. Everyone else does."
Stop.
He hated it. It gurgled in every part of his body, rendering him quiet and weak. Since the dream something within him was pushed to avoid Clem, pulling himself away as if she were a deadly addiction that no man or woman could survive through. "Besides, who would want to deal with me..."
-
His present didn't go unnoticed by her. How could it?
Clementine paid no attention to the fresh soup in front of her. "He's been avoiding me for almost five days now, there must be something wrong."
"He has nightmares from time to time, we all do, I wouldn't worry too much about it." Aasim directly informed her without blinking an eye. All the other kids shamefully nodded, silently admitting that they had no idea how to fix him.
Everyone hears the jokes, the piano but after that, they stop listening. You didn't.
Clementine slammed her wooden spoon down onto the table. "I'm gonna go talk to him whether he wants to or not." With great haste she made her way to the admin building, her body jolting every time Louis hit a wrong note. He never made such crude mistakes, not so many times in a row. Soft swears echoed along the hallway, she would have giggled had they not been coming from a place of obvious sorrow.
She gently pushed the door open, wincing at the obnoxious creak it made. So much for subtlety.
"Clem?" Louis quickly fixed his poor posture as she hopped into the room. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"
Her face fell at his attempt at normalcy. After years of being lied to, witnessing people go behind each other's backs, Clementine was near immune to lies. "You haven't spoken a word to me - or anyone - for days. I'm worried."
That word...worried. He heard it come from her so many times before, yet each time it simply rolled off his shoulders. "I just have these nightmares sometimes and they really fucking suck. They all start with this thing my grandmother told me when I was a kid, never really shook it off."
He was only small. Too small to see over the edge of a table as his grandmother stood high above him, looking down upon him as if he were the cockroaches within her kitchen. "You were born a Sulieman, that is your birthright," His grandmother spat the name through her pursed lips, ashamed of her own heritage. "That is your burden."
The Sulieman empire, fucking over one person at a time. His hand had been dealt, time for his turn to bear the brute force of just how lost his family truly was.
"I didn't get it at the time, till I got older and it just...hit me. Like I was starring down the barrel of a gun my whole life, cluelessly wondering what was inside it, until the bullet got me and I wondered why I spent so long searching for what was inside," He was spilling over as if his heart was a cup that cracked beneath the weight of life itself. "When I could have paid more attention to what was around me, to what mattered." Louis merely shrugged at his words. Deep down he knew that Clementine would listen to him, willingly. She could help to mend whatever ailed him without fail. Like she said, she truly worried about him.
But how could it be true? A girl as level-headed and strong as her, worrying about a selfish boy such as himself...why? "If only you knew just how much of an idiot I was, you would clearly be disappointed."
"That's not true-"
"Yeah, it is. You're a goddamn idiot. Everywhere you go you destroy something. You can never save anything, can you? Of course you split up your parents, what else would you do? That's why Marlon's dead, that's why no one ever listens to you. What are you going to do to Clementine? What about her asshole-"
Stop.
His growing doubt stuffed his ears with prickly cotton, blocking everything except his own little voice biting back and forth at himself. He never thought it was possible for someone to lose to themselves, and yet here he was.
Clem's demeanour hadn't changed, except her eyes appeared more watery than before. "Louis, seriously what's wrong? What did you dream about?" Her palm caressed his cheek with such delicacy he almost broke right then and there. With what little energy he had, Louis swallowed the expanding lump in his throat, along with the vivid imagery playing behind his eyes every time he closed them.
“I was standing, in the woods. You were leaning against a tree that had no leaves on it, you looked clean and tidy. Suddenly you...you just started screaming. Your jaw was unhinged. Then you blamed me, for everything. One by one the trees died till it was just you and me.”
He didn't need to cry though, countless nights had been wasted that way. There was nothing but dry guilt that clogged his throat, dragging him deeper into older memories. Memories of seeing old friends ripped apart from their bones, feeling the tether between him and his best friend etch away like fog on a grim evening. If he dived in too deep, would he be able to get back out?
Before she had the chance to fight him, which she usually did in situations like these, he intervened. "Clem...do you..have a voice in your head? I mean, one that constantly talks over you, again and again, saying that you're worthless. Am I..." He didn't want to be alone in his madness. Was he mad? "Crazy?"
Her brief silence was nearly the thing that pushed him off the edge, till she moved in closer to the piano, her fingers tracing their intimate carving. Seems like yesterday it happened.
"All the time."
Louis wasn't entirely sure why he was shocked, he turned to face her completely, giving her his undivided attention. Hearing her mutter a somehow shame-free 'yes' untied the knot in his chest. "You do? You seem to always have it together."
"Gotten pretty good at hiding it, I've had to ignore my doubts to stay alive, keep AJ safe," Louis helped her to the seat, he always left a small space for her in case she ever came in. She always did. "I often wondered if I was doing right by him, if what I was doing was helping him or hurting him. But at the end of the day, I just had to trust myself and hope that I was doing a good job."
Louis scoffed, a welcoming return to his normal attitude. "I think you did better than just a good job." No one else could have done what Clementine did, she did it with such grace and patience, that's what he loved so much about her.
"I could easily say the same for you. Louis, dream me sounds like a bitch, you're amazing."
He immediately looked away from her, blocking off her words of praise. Louis couldn't move very far before her poised hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look into her amber eyes.
"You are a wonderful guy. You're kind to everyone here, you're a great role model for AJ and as far as boyfriends go you pretty much take first prize," She loosened her grip on his skin, letting her thumb draw small circles over his cheek. "You make everyone here, especially me, feel better every day just by being you."
They sat together in pure silence for a while as the last of Louis's thoughts melted away. For the first time in days, he smiled an ever so blissful smile. "Hey, Clem?"
"Hm?"
A faint sigh fell from his lips as he felt his heart mended itself, just as it always did around her and just as it always will. "Thank you."
#twdg#the walking dead game#the walking dead game season four#twdg clementine#twdg louis#clouis#louisentine#clem x louis#twdg season 4#xscullyx#fanfiction
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october book round up
19 books this month, which brings me to 125 for the year, and i’ve officially completed the yearly challenge! :) a little later than last year, but still earlier than i expected. i don’t imagine that i’ll read as much as i did last year, but i can still get a good bit done in two months i think. this month was pretty much just different flavours of romance, once again all audiobooks.
poison kiss - ana mardoll ⭐️⭐️⭐️ mixed feelings about this one. urban fantasy/paranormal with a neat setup and world building, but i feel like the author didn’t tell the story in the most effective way? not enough time spent on certain sections, time skips that were not needed, too many flashbacks. the poly romance was really sweet, though i didn’t much care for the love at first sight aspect when the third character was introduced. but this was a good book overall, with a unique plot and cast; might revisit the series.
the best boy ever made - rachel eliason ⭐️⭐️⭐️ very cute coming of age/ya romance. a conservative country girl is at first shocked when her best friend comes out as trans, but she slowly finds herself becoming his biggest champion, and then falling in love with him. took me a while to warm up to it bc i found the protagonist to be kind of obnoxious. and some of the later plot events were kind of ham-fisted. but i definitely liked it, mostly for sam and how good and kind he was.
i wish you all the best - meason deaver ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ BRUH I’M CRYING IN THE CLUB. this was a really fucking sweet ya romance. the main character finds themselves homeless after they come out as nb to their parents. they move in with their sister, enroll in a new school, and find themselves making friends with (and slowly falling for!) a literal ray of sunshine. this was great, another one of those books i wish i could have read when i was younger. dealt with coming out, depression, anxiety and first love, had great writing, and i’m still thinking about how great the ending lines were.
the neighbour - gerri hill ⭐️⭐️ eh... a book that COULD have been good (woman with a stunted career as a writer moves back home to take care of her ailing mother, finds herself falling for the rich lesbian player next door) but both main characters were so thoroughly unlikable lmao. judgemental, snooty, made jokes about harmful things, kind of elitist... there was one aspect of this book that i really liked (the main character changed careers later in life and it wasn’t seen as a failure, just moving on) but otherwise this was a disappointment.
the turner series - cat sebastian ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ historical romance!!! always a fave. this was a pretty fun series; first three m/m, last one f/f. a bit of mystery and intrigue in all of them, good humour, and a great cast of characters through and through. the second one was probably my favourite; one of the mcs suffered from anxiety attacks in an era where there was a lot of wrong information about mental health, and his love interest (a cheat and a scoundrel) ended up being the best thing that happened to him. although now that i’ve said that i just remembered how very much i love the third book’s protagonist (the rake, to be specific). standout character for sure. the last book has a dear place in my heart bc even though you can tell that the author doesn’t often write f/f, and it was a pretty short novella, it’s still historical lesbians, and i eat up historical lesbians with a spoon. (i could make a pretty bad joke here but lo and behold; i have GREAT self control.)
the secret casebook of simon feximal - k.j. charles ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ when k.j. charles is good, SHE’S REALLY FUCKING GOOD. this is a paranormal-mystery/romance book styled after the adventures of sherlock holmes (if you must know one thing about me it’s that i’m a slut for acd holmes, don’t fucking @ me), set in the very universe itself. not quite a pastiche but close enough, and it was so well written, with great world building around the magic and paranormal events, great characters, GREAT ROMANCE. told as stories published by robert, simon’s biographer and lover. i adored this and will definitely reread.
puppy love romance - georgia beers ⭐️⭐️⭐️ a trio of f/f novels centred around an animal rescue, and the women who work and volunteer there and fall in love there. each of these novels was really sweet, grounded in a way that i like for contemporary romance, and they all had adorable dogs in them. and i feel like beers really knows her way around plotting and pacing a novel, especially small town romances. but i also had pretty sizeable nitpicks for each of them lol. part of it is that i just got tired of beers’ writing style (as you can see, i took a break between the series). this is such a weird complaint but oh my god she uses too many adverbs lol. also there was always an emphasis on how amazingly stunningly gorgeously beautiful all six women were and it got so tiresome. idk who wants to read about women who are physically perfect all the time, but it’s not me. and one half of the romantic pair in each book (lisa, emily and sydney, in that order) had attitudes that i found obnoxious and were not resolved and i felt bad for their girlfriends having to deal with them. a fun read all in all, but some of those things rubbed me the wrong way, and i’m ready to take a break from this author.
bound series - ava march ⭐️⭐️ a resounding meh. historical m/m romance that wasn’t bad, but there wasn’t anything great about it. i only read these like maybe a week and a half ago but i’m struggling to remember details. there was bdsm, which i didn’t hate, but i also didn’t care. the plot was bleh, the sources of conflict were weak, and one of the dudes was kind of an asshole. /shrug emoji
reverie - eliza andrews ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ god... GOD. the ride i took with this book was like... a really sexy butch took me out to dinner, wined and dined me, and in the very last course she leaned over and spit in me food. the premise: a woman on the run from her abusive ex-husband settles into a small town where she find herself drawn to the only out lesbian in town, a sweet butch ex-marine, and her mysterious nurse of a neighbour. this book was soooooooo well written, so well crafted, so moving, so beautiful. a paranormal mystery that actual kept me guessing. i was ready to name it the best f/f book i read this year, if not the best romance period. and then the ending. the FUCKING ENDING. i’ve rarely been so let down in my life. i’m looking at the four stars i gave this and wondering if i should go lower because SERIOUSLY. thinking about it is getting me kind of upset. this book could have been SO good. uuuuuugh.
brothers of the wild north sea - harper fox ⭐️⭐️ this is tricky because like. this book was definitely like, not good lmao, but it was good enough that i almost feel guilty giving it 2 stars. this is a historical romance that takes place more than a thousand years ago between a viking and a monk. it wasn’t badly written, probably wasn’t historically accurate but i mean, i don’t care. but it was too long, i didn’t care about the characters, it was badly plotted, and just really confusing overall. i think harper fox is great at writing romance, but all other aspects of this novel fell flat.
escape velocity - anah crow, dianne fox ⭐️⭐️⭐️ sci-fi m/m romance. a linguistic researcher and a pilot struggling with his religious beliefs fall into a whirlwind romance. pretty cute. i found it too short as i find most novellas, but i think the authors did a lot in relatively few words. definitely wish there was more worldbuilding. kind of hope the authors have plans to make this a series.
nowhere ranch - heidi cullinan ⭐️⭐️⭐️ a sweet romance between a farm hand and his boss. i didn’t think i’d like it much, but it was pretty enjoyable! very simple writing stuff that fit well with the gruff, no-nonsense, trying to shut everyone out protagonist. i really liked him; identified with him a lot, and his journey into opening up, dealign with his anxiety and self-worth issues. and the romance was sweet (though oooof, some of the sex scenes were too much). the book went from being really raunchy to really domestic and i kind of liked that. the resolution came a bit too quick, but i enjoyed it nonetheless.
that’s it for october! still currently unemployed, waiting for the people i signed a contract with to call me. since i don’t want to dip too much into my savings i’ve been doing odd jobs here and there, and might take a more steady part-time job in the meantime? all of that to say: i probably won’t be reading as much in november. i’m currently reading the first book in the spencer cohen series, and not... really loving it, lol, so i might pass on the others.
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Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters 112-113, Interludes 12-14
Yep, everything’s blowing up in their faces.
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twelve – For the Living
Still nothing solid on who that ninth Unmade could be from Hessi, though she wonders if she's “conflating two Unmade into one”. Possible, but mmmmm...
“Kaladin remembered a woman's kiss.” That is not how I was expecting this chapter to start. But! MORE TARAH INFORMATION. GOOD. She's still basically an unknown at this point, so more info is always good.
Cultural note: dresses of an old-fashioned Thaylen style – an apronlike front with straps over the shoulders and skirts that ended right below the knee; a buttoned shirt underneath, often in a bright colour
HUGS. SHE'S HUGGING HIM AND HE'S COMFORTABLE AND HAPPY, AAAAAHHHH
It would take forever for tall-and-skinny beanpole Kaladin to find a spear long enough for him to wield properly.
'Slightly plump, with a round face and firm build, Tarah's beauty was a subtle thing. Like an uncut gemstone. The more you saw of it – the more you discovered of its natural facets – the more you loved it. Until one day it struck you that you'd never known anything as wonderful.' Um hello yes snagging this happily to add to my demi-romantic!Kaladin headcanon, along with general note of Tarah's appearance
Haaaah. She has to follow her own path. She won't stick around just to be with him, just as he wouldn't do so for her. She has a point, too - “Maybe someday you'll learn how to be there for the living, not just for the dead.” Kaladin continues to carry the weight of those deaths; he did throughout his time as a slave, in Sadeas' warcamp, and still shoulders it now. He's got such a gentle, soft, caring heart, and it doesn't heal easily when it bruises or breaks, especially as he refuses to let go of the pain of those deaths.
I'm- I'm glad this is ending amicably; I was wondering if she'd end up just another name on the list of those who died/Kaladin believes he failed. THANK YOU FOR NOT FRIDGING TARAH FOR THE SAKE OF MANPAIN, BRANDERSON.
More really cool Shadesmar trees: 'taller, more statuesque ones with deep crimson trunks and limbs like burnt-red crystals that, at the ends, burst into a small collection of minerals.'
Kaladin's still attracting windspren every now and then. What is it that they're drawn to about him right now that's causing them to pop over even a little from the Physical Realm?
So the uncorrupted Oathgate-spren look like a matching pair of salt-and-pepper shakers – one iridescent-black, one prism-white, as opposed to the corrupted black-and-red that we saw back at the Kholinar Oathgate.
And there's an army in their way. Of course.
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Thirteen – The Thing Men Do Best
'Dai-Gonarthis' is our possible last Unmade, then, and maybe one that packs immense destruction as its main ability – perhaps even as much as to destroy Aimia?
“Did you really think that you belonged here? That you were native to Roshar?” Oh come on, Stormfather, why would they think otherwise, when all they know of their history has been here? They didn't even know much about four thousand years ago, much less anything before that, and after the destruction of the Desolations? After the continuing apocalypses that would wipe out 90% of the population? They'd lost all knowledge of what came before, much less so early as that. At least their originating from Shinovar makes sense to believe from their point of view – but complete aliens?
Where. Did. The. Humans. Come. From. Between the Rosharan System blurb in Arcanum Unbounded and the main SA series itself, we know that they have to be genetically distinct, and everything else in the Greater Roshar System screams 'deliberately created this way'. There are spren on Ashyn, aren't there? Were Rosharan-humans originally created by Adonalsium rather than by Shards or transplanted from Yolen, and put on Ashyn instead of Roshar?
“It was not only the truth of humankind's origin that caused the Recreance. It was the distinct, powerful fear that they would destroy this world, as men like them had destroyed the one before. The Radiants abandoned their vows for that reason, as will you.” Okay, that makes a lot more sense. I'm still shocked that it was enough that they would kill their soul-bonded spren to do so, but they essentially looked at themselves and went I have the power to physics-nuke a planet and that's more than enough to shake anyone to the core.
[winces] And the bridgemen get it. “Invaded by people trying to reclaim their homeland. Storms. I'd be mad too.”
Except they've been co-opted by Odium, their fellows transformed by the Everstorm into mockeries of the Radiants – powerful, but still mockeries, and ones that consume the soul of the body that they inhabit, and in the end, they and/or Odium will destroy Roshar so that there is nothing left for either Humans or Parsh/Dawnsingers.
Their unwavering faith in Kaladin is beautiful and heartwrenching at the same time. Dalinar, on the other hand… he's losing hope that Adolin and Elhokar will ever return. 'No news is good news' doesn't quite count when the city they were in has fallen to the enemy and no information was coming out of Kholinar before that anyway.
!!! So- what the Vorins call the Tranquiline Halls could in fact be a reference to the origin of the Rosharan-humans?
Honor sounds like he was going a bit loopy before he died, though even before that, he was egging on the Radiants, perhaps pushing the war even when peace might have have been brokered and Odium's power over the Dawnsingers broken.
“They tried to protect the world. I blame them for their weakness, their broken oaths. But I also understand. You have cursed me, human, with this capacity.” Character development even from the Stormfather, greatest of spren of Roshar. Who would have thought?
[winces] The coalition alliance is cracking along every seam it has. And Taravangian has the sheer gall to say that he's sorry, when he's the one who orchestrated all of it! ~~FUCK OFF, YOU MANIPULATIVE OLD TURDBUCKET~~
“I tried my best to hide this.” “So we could continue living a lie?” “It is, in my experience, the thing men do best.” I… I would say something along the lines of 'fucking ouch', but- but instead I'm reminded of that one Terry Pratchett quote from Death in Hogfather – the one about needing to believe the little lies so that we can believe the big ones: 'JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.'
That's not what Dalinar or the Stormfather sees, of course, but at the same time……
End of Part Four
Interlude Twelve – Rhythm of Withdrawal
The Fused's/Odium's plan for Venli stumping for them now involves her forced into a hermit cave, an essentially 'primitive' existence, and I'll bet it's to help the image of how they want to portray her – the last of a people that had held out against humans for centuries, millennia, now but a dying predecessor to those who will rise and fight.
Oh, no more individual talks? You're right, Venli; Odium probably doesn't want you and your people to realize their history of long ago as Dawnsingers, or how close the world has come to complete and utter unlivable destruction in Desolations past.
!!! She's going to the assault on Thaylen City with the rest of them? OOOOO. Sanderson please let her meet Dalinar in person that'd be great
Yeaaaaah, the Everstorm's sent to push them onward – maybe even awaken new Fused on the way there (especially since Rine says that the “strongest and most skilled of [their] number have yet to awaken”, which is… oooof.)
Interlude Thirteen – Rysn
RYSN RYSN RYSN!!!
Who is very much not happy to be confined to a desk, no matter how 'important' the job may be. Someone needs to invent a kind of wheelchair stat so she can have some freedom of movement.
That Thaylen Gemstone Reserve is going to be important. This is the second time they've mentioned it in only the last few chapters.
That 'Wheeeeeeeeeeee.' has me cracking up istg
She still has her grass! And her insectoid gift from Relu-na! Chiri-Chiri is an adorable name for the larkin; it sounds like an onomatopoeia. Her own tiny iridescent not-axehound!
“You just ate.” Thank you branderson for somehow capturing the exact exasperated tone of voice that all pet owners everywhere know by heart.
Vstim is past seventy! I'd originally though him early sixties or something when I read their WoR Interlude. By Earth calculations, that would now make him… at least 77, and still sauntering around the world to trade up until taking this position. Damn, he's spry.
I love that she has her own little guardian crustacean. Chiri-Chiri: U WILL NOT HURT MY HUMAN
Hmm. Looks like the Growth Surge can't heal wounds that are past a certain point. Hobber's paralysis healed, but he did that by taking stormlight in himself, not receiving healing from an outside source.
Ohhh, Rysn bowed out of going on further expeditions herself- you and Renarin need to have a long talk together on disability, I think.
W A N D ER S AIL
Vstim, you are a gem of a mentor and friend.
“a stuffy meeting with old Kholin and his soldiers” - which in the end turned out to be anything but dull and stuffy, but fair enough.
All of the security – and the assertion that the vault has never before been robbed save through embezzlement – makes me all the more certain that we'll see a robbery happen in this interlude.
Oh, so she does have some sort of wheelchair…? Sounds like it needs a bit more optimization in order to get her into and through more places, though.
!!!! 'The King's Drop' – like Honor's Drop, I believe was the one mentioned earlier? A perfect gemstone that would never lose light? Which would explain why it's still alight after two hundred years without ever being taken out to refresh its light. 'The size of a child's head' daaaaayum but that's a big gemstone. But… I wonder what the other, more mundane objects in there are being kept for, if they're important enough to be secured in the same area as the King's Drop?
“They say it's a chunk off the Stone of Ten Dawns.” That's more mythology and one we don't know about what is the Stone of Ten Dawns tell us Sanderson-
“The queen's guard killed Tlik.” WHAT. JUST. SO CASUALLY STATED. WHAT. Oh no oh noooo, Rysn's knocked to the floor and he's going after Vstim I hope Vstim ends up all right oh noooo
Aw shit, whoever the thief is, they're ignoring the damage – another Radiant associated with Taravangian, perhaps?
Smart decision to use the rope and tie the ruby to her, and if the one killing everyone really is a Radiant, then reducing the available amount of stormlight via Chiri-Chiri will actually be a good thing.
Alone in the darkness, men dead and dying around her as she realizes that there's no way for her to step to load the crossbow, the thief-murderer advancing on her, but at the same time-
“Yes. Yes, I care! I want to sail my own ship!” YEEEEESSSSS
!!! It wasn't a Radiant but a Fused? There's a type of Fused that have the ability to use a Voidbinding that's equivalent to Lightweaving? UM. This is the first that we've heard of that. Also, Chiri-Chiri can feed off of voidlight as well as stormlight.
Odium and the Fused want the King's Drop – or at least one of the perfect gemstones – but for what?
Interlude Fourteen – Teft
TEEEEEEFT. Last POV we had from you, you were falling back into moss-addiction, to the point of selling your Bridge Four coat for money. Sounded like you were stabilizing a little bit there for a while, given Kaladin and the rest of your support group, but then started sliding back again recently.
[winces] Then again, I could have been reading him 'maybe getting a little better' as him just being functional, as outlined here in such viscerally honest terms.
Looks like there's someone who we saw last time who still hasn't given up on him, though. The honorspren is still there, still standing at his side. Has he- has he sworn Oaths already? And how many?
Oh shit. They've got trouble at Urithiru too?! SHITSHITSHIT THEY GOT ROCK AND TWO OTHERS AND THE HONORBLADE-
Rock and Bisig are still alive thank the Heralds but they may not be for long unless they get help, and Renarin was still in Thaylen City, though he left the audience chamber-
An unfamiliar man – who could have been anyone from one of Taravangian's spies to one of Ialai's to maybe even a Fused, now that we know there's a kind that can Lightweave – ...and they were wearing Teft's coat.
He's never going to stop blaming himself for that.
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I Hate DIO Brando
DIO Brando is the most terrible person I have ever laid my eyes on. He is a terrible person, despite how good of a character he might be. His morals are awful.The first day he stepped into the Joestar Household, he kicked a dog for no apparent reason. The excuse was he "didn't like their bootlicking." Danny didn't even do anything to him. He approached Johnathan. Danny held no bad intentions. DIO just wanted to kick a dog because he was a terrible person. He didn't even make an effort to try and be a good person in the first place. The first time I laid eyes on him, I was disgusted. I was revolted. I felt sick to my stomach. Seeing DIO was the worst ever pain brought onto me. He's worse than period cramps. He's worse than any childbirth I would ever imagine.
At one point, he was only ever nice to the family that invited him with open arms so he could tear them apart. He tried to poison the father figure who genuinely loved him like his own son. He's terrible. If I had to describe DIO, it'd be like this:
You know the spit buckets they keep in saloons? People spit into those. Spit itself is mostly water, generally. But when you spit into the spit bucket, the water in the spit evaporates when the spit bucket is exposed to intense heat, leaving behind the terrible toxins and residue of tobacco that people chew instead of smoking. Eventually, the consistency of that water-based spit just becomes toxins left behind. This leaves the residue of what was once spit into a honey-like substance that smells like running over a skunk, leaving it in the Arizona desert for 5 weeks, and then coming back to set it on fire. If you were to put your hand in the stuff, you'd have to break through the spit film layered on top of it, similar to leaving gravy out for a few days. Breaking that film at the top (which would relatively be keeping the smell in check), your hand would be consumed by the single most vile thing in the universe. There would barely be a sound as your hand was swallowed by the disgusting spit aftermath. Even still, if there was a sound, it'd be like a guttural gurgling noise, kind of like a glorp. The smell would be atrocious. You would physically feel the crowfeet growing in the corners of your eyes. It would be the same feeling you get when you know you're dying. It's like you'd have to see the nearest doctor. But, really, it was your fault for sticking your hand into the fake, vile smelling honey. It's a dark brown, absorbing any light that even shines on it. Disgusting. You swish your hand inside the spit remains, attempting to curl your fingers in the jelly-like substance, hoping to find a release. You're stuck. You're wrist-deep in this mess. It's under your nails. There are congealed chunks in the bottom of the spit bucket. They're hard. This thing that was once spit, sitting in the bucket that you are currently wrist-deep in, is lukewarm. It's like jello, but not quite. Like said, it's like honey. Imagine if someone took a shitload of honey and put it into a bucket, and it got chunky and gross at the bottom. That's what you're touching. The smell makes you feel like you're going to pass out. Your stomach coils. There's a heavy, sour taste in the root of your tongue, like you've been sucking on a handful of pennies.
That's the feeling I get when I see DIO. If I met this disgusting fucker in real life, I would find the nearest full spit bucket— filled to the brim with that nasty, gross mess— and shove his face in it. I have never hated someone so much in my entire life. He threw away what could've been a lovely life just because he was a petty motherfucker. He's so awful. When I see his name, I feel my insides churn. He's just so problematic. He made an innocent woman— Holly— sick just by existing. He sent three teens and an aging father across Egypt to beat his ass just because he was alive. He gathered followers to serve underneath him by being threatening. His best friend was a wrinkly old hag who was running on thinning time. And when the gang found him, he was so fucking childish. He dressed like an idiot. Seeing this man made me sick. I could tolerate him in his teen years, but he only got worse. He had an outfit that framed the dick that he stole. His hair was awful. He looked like a failed Drag Queen. He was a disgrace. His lipstick didn't even match his outfit that well. He was the equivalent to me picking up the substance of a spit bucket and eating the contents. His fashion was atrocious, and I felt secondhand embarrassment by just looking at him. He's worse than Alessi. Hol Horse was smarter than this motherfucker. Hol Horse had better fashion than this thousand year old thot, and Hol Horse had the fashion equivalent to taking a potato bag and putting it on. I love Hol Horse, but damn is he dusty.
DIO Brando gave me bronchitis. Ever since seeing him, I have been ailed with osteoporosis. I can feel my bones rot more every day. I feel sick every day. It's like I need a doctor every second that I'm conscious. But nothing can help. I've seen him. His disgusting image is burned into my mind for all of eternity. I can never forget. He's given me borderline PTSD. I feel sick even as I'm writing about him. I hate him.
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