#Ransack the Reject | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitethedustfools · 3 months

Text

TWST Story Idea (12)

Yuu didn't get to go home after all those months spent here in Twisted Wonderland trying to deal with school life, the overblots, and the homesickness.

Yuu didn't take it too well when Crowley broke it to them. What are they supposed to do now? Yuu can't live like this, knowing that their family must be worried sick with their absence.

Moreover, this school life is only temporary. What comes next when everything is over and everyone parts to find their own path? Yuu doesn't have a place in this world. Their existence here is a mistake.

Yuu does not belong here.

Yuu refuses to believe Crowley and takes it upon themselves to scour the whole library. But that will take time given how big it is, and Yuu is only one person.

Not one of their friends is willing to help because they said a book like that doesn't exist, and there's nothing Yuu could do.

But what do they know? Yuu hasn't seen them ransack the whole library, nor did they put in an effort to, so how would they know it's not there?

Yuu keeps searching on, their loyal friend Grim ever by their side, even if he's grumbling about how bored and tiring it is.

But he stayed and helped, even when he feared that he would be left alone one day, and that's all that matters. The relationship with their friends strained just a little bit in doing so, but Yuu thinks it won't matter in the end.

The library hadn't been fully searched when the school life ended, and Yuu feared what became of them after this. Yuu knew that knowing they couldn't go home, they would have to make a new one in this new world, which is not what they would have preferred.

They could stay in that dorm, but Yuu is no longer a student. There's no reason for them to stay here in the dorm that they had fixed. Crowley had said so; he owned it and gave them shelter, so it's natural that he will take it all back.

He is not that generous at all, even though this was his problem Yuu was here in the first place.

With this being said, Yuu decided to become a teacher, replacing Professor Mozus Trein, who is now retiring, and Grim will be taking over Lucius's position.

Teaching history is no problem; Yuu already wasted some of their life in that classroom and that library. Yuu couldn't believe they knew Twisted Wonderland history much better than their own, but Yuu supposed that it's vital for their job.

This way, Yuu can continue going to the library, even though being a teacher is far from what they always wanted to be. But it's not like they have any choices, isn't it?

There are also advantages in being a teacher. One is that Yuu can do whatever they want because they are now an adult. They could talk back to Crowley face to face now.

Second is that if the library held not one clue to the way back home, which would make Yuu insane if NRC didn't really have such a book, Yuu is able to request any visitation to any other college, partly because Yuu has such a good connection with them.

Yuu's friends sometimes visit them out of the blue, bearing gifts and coaxing Yuu to visit their places as well, going as far as to crash the classroom and so forth. It was thoughtful, albeit annoying, but the implication did not escape Yuu's observation.

It's not going to work. Yuu thought of this over and over again every time their friends tried to bond with them.

Yuu will leave this place one day, and all those memories and relationships will be for naught. Yuu would rather they have no good feelings towards this world for fear they will have a desire to return here again. Yuu doesn't have the courage to leave their family once more if they managed to come home.

Yuu would have to be indifferent to their approach, reject every reaching hand, and drown themselves in dust and pages.

How long will Yuu stay here? To what length will Yuu go for the sake of going home?

Yuu glanced at the black Magestone kept properly in the chest. The Magestone that appeared the moment Grim's overblot was over.

The glimmer in their eyes shone like a star.

All Yuu needs is magic.

*Yandere is alright. The characters probably burned the book so Yuu could stay. They have patience and believe that Yuu will finally let go and pick one of them to settle down.

*Would the angst be great in some friends' POV?

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #writing prompt #twst yuu #yandere twst #everyone loves yuu #It's supposed to be angst #but a hint of comedy is nice too.#When you learn that the boring history teacher has a lot of suitors.#Professor Yuu let's gooo!

102 notes · View notes

leviathan-supersystem · 2 years

Text

Nearly 85% of the Haitian people live on $5.30 a day or less. Severe malnutrition among young children is rampant, and the streets are overflowing with uncollected garbage. Potable water is scarce along with medical care — cholera, which is often spread through contaminated water, has broken out, with hundreds of cases reported in the last few weeks.

Access to education is spotty. The state has not fed or given water to prisoners since the beginning of the year, leading radio stations to run feed-the-prisoner campaigns; Haitian prisoners are dying from malnutrition.

It has been clear for months that acting Prime Minister/President Ariel Henry — appointed 16 months ago by the U.S. with the blessing of the Core Group — has not been able to control the rising, militant, hungry anger of the Haitian masses. The Core Group consists of the ambassadors of Canada, France, Brazil, Germany and Spain, along with representatives of the U.N. and the Organization of American States (OAS).

Since the beginning of August, hundreds of thousands of Haitians have taken to the streets in increasingly militant demonstrations to express their total rejection of Henry’s government and U.S. imperialism.

On Oct. 10, huge demonstrations rose up in Port-au-Prince, Petit-Goâve, Jacmel, l’Île de la Gonâve, Mirebalais, Lascahobas, Cap-Haïtien and Gonaïves. In Cap-Haïtien, a massive demonstration was attacked by cops firing live rounds. One demonstrator was shot dead; in reaction the crowd attacked and ransacked businesses, including a branch of Unibank, one of two major Haitian banks, which was set ablaze.

Since their puppet Ariel has proven to be hugely unpopular, the U.S. has apparently decided to try someone else. A Disaster Assistance Response Team is currently in Port-au-Prince. DART teams generally consist of “experts” from the political arms of U.S. imperialism, who assess “needs” and organize the delivery of “aid.”

2K notes · View notes

barn-anon · 1 month

Text

You watch from the top of a cliff how the waves crash against the rocks below. It's been a while since you left home, a few weeks in fact. Longer than you originally planned to be gone, you needed the time.

But you miss him.

This time away from him had helped you realize how much he had been doing for you. Things that you never noticed till now. How he always makes sure there's hot water in your water flask, helped you keep track of your groceries, putting your keys in your bag without you noticing. Small things.

You want to go back, to see him again. Yet not having to face rejection over and over in your home, what should be your safe place. It's relieving. You feel like you could finally breathe without pressure trying to crush you.

But you miss him.

Do you love him? You think so... he's your Custodes, so you should love him right? You love him, you realize that now. Somehow you do and you miss him so badly now. Warm and wet rolls down your cheek and you wipe the tear away. All you want is a companion you can hug, cuddle and share all your secrets with. How you had looked on with jealousy at all the other people with their Space Marines.

Wishing for what they had with their Space Marines now turns to wishing for your own Custodes to be here with you.

The drive back to the house you had rented, you're alarmed when you realize the front door is unlocked. You always lock the door when you leave. You are wary as you step in, the house doesn't look ransacked. Some of the furniture is definitely moved about though... as if to make way for something big...

You find nothing else until you reach your bedroom. Instantly you forget everything else as you rush in, to your Odysseus who was curled up on the floor hugging one of your jackets to himself and whimpering.

His armor pokes you, you always complained about it but now it's a comfort as he nearly crushes you in a tight hug. Watery coos leaves his lips as he curls his larger form around you. You feel water hit the top of your head but he keeps you tucked against him as he lets out sad heart wrenching warbles to you. It makes you cry all over again. How and when he got here didn't matter.

You're finally back with him.

Tagged: @kit-williams • @egrets-not-regrets • @bleedingichorhearts

#odysseus the custodes #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer 30k

57 notes · View notes

smilerri · 3 months

Text

many thoughts about epic: the musical...

i am once again in the middle of essay writing but plautus is boring and my friend introduced me to this album so u already know I binged the entire thing

(quick warning for spoilers of homer's odyssey? if that's necessary?? man idk whatever)

first thoughts naturally concerned odysseus. i have hated this man with a burning passion ever since I started studying classics - i think he is irredeemably selfish, a liar masquerading as a 'resourceful hero,' and basically just a twat all around. that being said, i respect that epic is not an exact replica. in fact, i like that about it!

readings of odysseus as a loving husband and father, and a man who cares deeply for his crew and fellow warriors is one i would love to see reflected in the source text (though i admit i have only read two different translations so far, so this is subject to change depending on translators choice!), if only because it would be so so refreshing. and epic does that extremely well! i find epic's odysseus to be far more likeable, insofar as he is fueled not by greed for glory (kleos for the nerds out there) but rather the desire to return to his wife and son. (I personally would argue that, while homer's odysseus is indeed fueled by a desire for homecoming (nostos), it is not for the sake of penelope and telemachus, but rather concern over the security of his status and position within the household (oikos))

i also very much enjoy that the love he holds for his family is not an inherently positive trait. in the aeneid, and often in myth, it is achilles' son, neoptolemus/pyrrhus who kills the son of hector and andromache, astyanax by throwing him from the walls of troy - less common, it is odysseus (which i did not know until i googled it just now oops). homer's odysseus does not reject the gods. he is beloved by some, hated by others - he receives their boons and curses as they come. he revels in the attention of the divine, no matter positive or negative, for it is proof of his kleos. epic's odysseus is so much more... human. he doesn't vie for glory that reaches the skies. if anything, he rues it. in the horse and the infant he supplicates himself to (who i assume is) zeus - which is such a loaded act i am genuinely struggling to think of how to articulate it, but boy am I gonna try my darndest.

the act of supplication and guest-friendship (xenia) is a very key theme within the odyssey, and to a point in the iliad also - essentially, if a traveller were to arrive at your doorstep, you were obliged to let them in and provide food, drink, and lodgings to that traveller, no questions asked. in return (because reciprocity is VERY important in homer especially), the guest would provide entertainment, tales of their travels, etc, and would be respectful of their host. the patron of these travellers was zeus. any violation of these terms, on part of the guest or host, would be met with divine scorn. for odysseus to supplicate himself to zeus is therefore meta as hell, but I would instead bring attention to the echoing lyric "hes bringing you down to your knees." 'he,' assumedly, is astyanax. his father, hector, is dead; as is his grandfather, priam, and all of priam's other sons. at this point, one could assume that it is astyanax who is ruling troy, who is now the host of the city that odysseus, a traveller from another land, has entered and ransacked. zeus' 'prophecy' of astyanax growing old and seeking revenge (reciprocity! homeric greece had a 'revenge culture' - essentially 'an eye for an eye' as well as 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours,' though not always so clear-cut), therefore, would be odysseus' punishment for violating the terms of xenia.

supplication, however, is not limited to guest-friendship alone. for example, in odyssey 22, when odysseus slaughters the suitors occupying his home (is that spoilers?), their priest leodes supplicates himself at odysseus' feet, begging to be spared. odysseus takes his head from his neck in an instant. odysseus' kneeling before astyanax, therefore, is no simple act between a guest and his host - perhaps he is begging the infant for mercy, for forgiveness, or perhaps he is positioning himself for punishment; in killing astyanax, odysseus accepts his own death. perhaps this means his fate (which, in case of homeric epic, refers to the time and manner of one's death), or perhaps it is a part of him that has died. in just a man, odysseus asks "when does a man become a monster?" his killing astyanax prevents the boy from ever becoming a man, and spares him from a life fueled only by revenge and the need to regain his glorious birthright, and it turns him into a monster. just as he says he would, he trades in the world where he is 'just a man' for a world where he is a cruel beast, all for sake of his family.

(quick detour but i really like how odysseus' focus is primarily on penelope rather than telemachus. [insert deadbeat dad joke here], but in reality, he doesn't even know the boy. penelope he chose to marry and fall in love with - it's no question that he loves telemachus, but after ten years, it is only natural that he would miss his beautiful, tricky wife with more fervour than the child he never had the chance to love. it shows he is imperfect, even illogical - the son is the father's entire legacy. just as odysseus is 'son of laertes', so will telemachus be 'son of odysseus', the protector of his immortal heroic legacy. yet it is penelope whom odysseus yearns for.)

(another detour but "i'm just a man" is such a juicy lyric, because the entire message of homer's odyssey is that odysseus is not any man - he is a man that the muses deem worthy to inspire great poets to compose epic poems that persist through thousands of years and a million different voices - a hero. but epic's odysseus is not that hero. he is a man, trying to go home, craving comfort and the warmth of the hearth. these 'flaws' humanise him more than homer's odysseus could ever imagine.)

skipping over to polyphemus, odysseus violates xenia once again by killing polyphemus' sheep, albeit unwittingly. homer makes this violation very obvious - odysseus and crew eat polyphemus' cheese and wine while polyphemus tends to his sheep, knowing that the cave is obviously inhabited, and they even wait for polyphemus to return to ask for more. it is worth noting as well that, at this point, odysseus and crew are still jubilant about their victory, and unlike in epic, these 'detours' are purposeful, specifically so that odysseus can scope out the islands for anything of interest he can snatch and add to his spoils of war, adding to his kleos by means of physical wealth (timē) - which makes odysseus' offer of treasure to appease polyphemus all the more baffling in epic. this odysseus is a leader who prioritises the lives of his men over his own kleos, which makes the final lines - "you shall be the final man to die" // "what?" // "watch out!" - all the more heartbreaking. he wants to protect his men, so that they too may return to their families back on ithaca; the prospect of watching them die before his eyes after he already witnessed so many lose their lives in battle must be so utterly terrifying.

polyphemus is so excellently creepy as well! i loved him in the odyssey - this was where I really started to dislike odysseus, actually. he's a cyclops, obviously inhuman, yet he rears sheep and makes cheese and wine and weaves wicker baskets to keep them in, trying to play at humanity. i really did sympathise with him from the first time I read it. epic's polyphemus is similar, so very calm in his anger yet ruthless all the same, and demonstrates great restraint in comparison to his counterpart in the odyssey, who gets filthy drunk after mashing six men dead and allows odysseus+co. to fashion a stake with which to blind him. much of the violence against polyphemus, as well as the violation of xenia in homer's odyssey is 'excused' by the fact that polyphemus is a 'barbarian', to whom concepts of civilised people do not belong.

(very quick detour but polyphemus' first admonishment of odysseus - "you killed my sheep" up to "take from you like you took from me" - makes such heartbreaking parallels to astyanax's murder and the sack of troy. it almost provides a visualisation of the guilt that odysseus must still be battling. i would have loved to have been in his brain when he heard polyphemus say that.)

the mercy odysseus shows polyphemus is particularly interesting - homer's odysseus leaves him alive and tells him his name purely so that his name will spread and his kleos will grow. but epic's odysseus, despite his conviction to kill in survive and to avenge is fallen comrades in remember them, spares him. in part, this is to assure them an escape, so that the cyclops' giant body does not block their exit - but athena's interruption makes clear that this is not all. she criticises him, remarks "he is still a threat until he's dead." no doubt this calls back to zeus' warnings about astyanax, hence his refusal (or inability?) to commit to slaughter. for a homeric greek hero to allow a foe to live on after his allies had been slaughtered is a grave failure of reciprocity, casting shame on both the hero and their enemy. homer's odysseus escapes this with his reputation intact, since as a result polyphemus curses him to face poseidon's wrath - as I mentioned, for a hero, even negative attention from the gods is a good thing as it proves that their reputation/glory is known all over, even in olympus. but, as we have established, epic's odysseus cares not for kleos. the decision to tell polyphemus his name is entirely impulsive and irrational, grieving his comrades, hence athena's outrage.

the relationship between athena and odysseus is founded entirely on the principles they share, described in warrior of the mind (if anyone can lmk whereabouts this song fits in the timeline I will be so grateful, I'm stupid unfortunately :/). they value wisdom, reason, and rationality over brute strength and bloodlust. epic's athena becomes odysseus' patron goddess with the goal to "make a greater tomorrow" and "change the world" - aspirations that are entirely foreign to any homeric god. gods in homer do not care about the wellbeing of humans unless they are directly related to them, and they certainly don't care about the wellness of humanity as a whole. humans are toys and tools of the gods. the amount that athena cares for odysseus, even in the odyssey, is unusual, demonstrative of how much she cares for him, yet epic makes their comradery more obvious, even going as far as to (tentatively) call them friends. my goodbye frames athena's anger as disappointment at an experiment failed - calling back to warrior of the mind, where she claims to have "designed" him - but odysseus' replies to her makes clear that it is far more personal. perhaps, to her, odysseus acting so irrationally is even a betrayal; odysseus is abandoning the principles of reason they both once held and thus is forsaking all that they once shared and that she, as the goddess of wisdom, stands for.

ive always considered athena to be a very interesting goddess. she is a patron of both war, which in homer is only carried out by men, and weaving, the traditional work of women within the household - her very nature is a contradiction of masculine and feminine. although it is ares who is considered the 'black sheep' of the olympians for his brutality in war, epic's portrayal of athena through odysseus' lens paints her as lonely and ostracised - "since you claim you're so much wiser // why's your life spent all alone? // you're alone." It is clear that odysseus here does not view her as his patron at all, rather as a friend - and to that she takes offence, because she is a goddess, eternal and all-powerful. she does not need friendship or comradery; those are mortal concerns alone. personally, I see epic's athena as incredibly insecure. she cuts odysseus off because she cannot bare that a mortal has been able to read her so clearly, to see all the ugly parts of herself that she keeps hidden to retain the facade of the perfect goddess. she knows the paradox within herself - warrior and woman, immortal and alone - and rues that odysseus was able to see it as well. the cruellest part, the most ironic, is that his being able to figure out the true, imperfect nature of a god shows that he has not abandoned the path of the warrior of the mind. in fact, his wisdom extends beyond mortality into the realm of the divine. but athena is blinded by her anger and insecurity, and she says her goodbyes. she disappears from there, only to appear again to try to warn odysseus of his crew opening the bag of winds given to him by aeolus in keep your friends close, once again demonstrating her care for him, despite her anger.

the amount that odysseus cares for his crew is demonstrated time and again throughout the album, yet in the end, he still slowly loses their trust. aeolus' winds are the first sign. his crew betrays his orders upon the first whisper on the wind that he might be keeping treasure from them. the next sign, in puppeteer, is eurylochus' confession upon arrival to aeaea (circe's island), which odysseus brushes off, much as he brushed off eurylochus' concerns in luck runs out. then, in a matter of moments, 600 men are reduced to forty by the wrath of poseidon - which in itself is a significant change. while odysseus in epic is explicitly blamed for failing to kill polyphemus, homer's odysseus takes no responsibility for the deaths of hundreds of his men. it happens when they arrive at telepylos, which, unbeknownst to them, is home to the laestrygonians, a race of cannibalistic giants. odysseus, apparently sensing something off (who tf does he think he is, spiderman?), allows his entire fleet to enter the bay of telepylos while his ship alone remains outside - and when those ships are attacked and trapped, he alone takes his single ship and escapes, allowing twelve ships of men to be ripped apart and eaten by cannibals. an act which he shows no remorse for.

in my interpretation of homer's odyssey, it is this slowly slipping trust that eventually leads to his men ignoring his warnings and feasting on the cows of helios which leads to the deaths of all his remaining crew, including eurylochus and polites (spoilers? idk). so, once epic: the musical catches up to book 12 of the odyssey you WILL be seeing me again I hope ur excited.

there is definitely more i could say here, especially about the circe saga bcs ohhh my god I love circe and I love this circe especially (a female character with actual motive other than being a victim? homer could never) but unfortunately I'm running out of steam and I do in fact have 3 essays due this month (help) so I will probably return to this later !! hopefully its readable bcs I'm not going back to edit any of this ;)

83 notes · View notes

2cupids · 1 year

Text

cw: stalking, drugging, h*rassment. 17+ interact only.

haechan refuses to accept rejection. the moment you turn him down and don’t reciprocate the same romantic feelings, he fucking loses it. no girl has ever turned him down before and he’s not going to let you be the first. he’s going to make you his, no matter what it takes.

it starts out with phone calls and texts, sometimes voicemails. then it escalates to him sending you pictures of yourself undressing and videos of himself masturbating. he begs you to love him back while he moans your name before cumming right on the camera lens. the calls, the text; everything stop for a few weeks and you think it’s finally over, only for you to come home one day and find your apartment ransacked. in your bedroom, you a find a note saying “i’ll make you mine” with a pair of your panties laying on top of it, sticky with haechan’s semen.

you finally make the choice to stay at a hotel in hopes that he won’t be able to find you, but haechan is always one step ahead of you. you will never be free from him.

your suitcase is packed and you’re about to walk out the door when you’re a met with a hooded figure standing in your doorway. you turn to run but he’s too fast. he catches you and you try fighting but it’s no use. he puts a rag to your nose and you feel yourself getting drowsy. the last words you hear are “i told you i’d make you mine” before your vision goes black and you pass out.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #nct hard hours #nct headcanons

493 notes · View notes

itsoutrageouss · 4 months

Text

Like a bellflower - chapter one

chapter one of like a bellflower, a Joel Miller x Fem!Oc fanfiction.

warnings: violence, death, blood, the word 'rape', general apocalyptic angst things yk

words: 2,6k

Story taglist

1. A stoic rescue

✿✿✿

“If we don’t find some more fucking ammo soon I swear i’m going to kill someone,” Kade grumbled as we all walked along a broad gravelly road. He bit into the last of his dried meat with anger, ripping the flesh apart aggressively with his teeth. His arm nearly hit me as it swung back. I always stayed behind the four of them. Kade, Ryan, Sarah and Cole. When they found me, and agreed to pick me up along with them I thought I could find solidarity in Sarah. A girl. Or a woman I should say, because she is a lot more woman than me.

Her shoulders were as broad as the mens, her figure sturdy and hardened like her face. No solidarity was to be found in those eyes. She met me like the men did; looking down at me with clenched jaws, demanding I fix us all food and making mean jokes when I try to brush and fix my hair.

“That ain’t going to fix nothing sweetheart- how about a trip to the salon instead? It’ll be on me,” Kade would say with a nasty grin and they would all belt out laughter while they tended to their guns like I tend to my hair, with the same kind of care. The kind you should never use on weapons.

“But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue,” I always quote, biting my tongue until metal melts in my mouth.

“You have to calm down, we’re almost at the next town. If there isn’t any ammo, we’ll butcher someone that has some.” Cole replies, walking with fast, tough steps. They were always so hard, so violent. I watched intensely as my feet kicked the gravel. My gun didn’t have a lot of ammo left either but I would rather not have to hurt someone to get more. I’d run if I had to, but I really didn’t.

The rest of the walk was silent, until old suburban houses started appearing. No one spoke to me. Wordlessly everyone divided to ransack the houses. Cole and Kade went together, so did Ryan and Sarah. Sarah, a dainty, feminine name for a woman with cold, rejecting eyes. No solace. I walked on my own, shoulders slumping.

The house was a pale blue, the door was off the hinges completely, and I stepped over the rotten wood. Dust swirled in the beams of light that were pushing through barred windows. Someone had stayed here for a while, it looked like. Empty cans of food were piled on the dirty kitchen tiles. When I glanced back at the broken down door, I noticed the beating it had taken. The blood stains that the wood had absorbed. Scratch marks. I didn’t want to think of what had happened here, and instead I filtered through the flashes of sunlight, the warmth pulsing on my cheek. The air smelled like rotten wood too, as well as flowers. They bloomed in the corners of the walls, through broken tapestry they unfolded like nothing had ever bothered them. Like the whole world wasn’t dying. Untouched by the destruction, pretty and blooming. I wished to be like the flower.

There was no ammo, but in the back cabinets I found old cans of beans that must’ve been forgotten in whatever hurry had happened here. Between the wooden beams that barred the window I saw the others gathering in the middle of the road. Soldiers, they looked like. Machines. They made my skin crawl and every soft thing inside me hardened. I solidified, when everything I fought for everyday was to be soft. Free, fresh and blooming like a flower. A war between me and the world to preserve the delicate human I was, but I felt like throwing it all up when Kade looked at me. He made me feel like he wanted to rape me. His eyes were wide like a drug addict, and his stare a direct look into the most damaged soul I had ever met in my life. I had no clue what his story was and I was terrified to find out. He wanted to hurt the world like it had hurt him and I didn’t want to be here to see it but I had nowhere else to go.

They talked aggressively to each other, heads bent close together even though there probably wasn't anyone around for miles. I still never got used to seeing people standing in the middle of the roads. The cars were supposed to be there. And now all the cars were flipped upside down and stripped for parts. Sarah crushed a spiring dandelion under her foot. Her black, greasy hair flipped around her head when she talked. The day was beautiful but the people were not.

We decided to camp there, in the house I found. I found a broken family photo in a bedroom upstairs. I was frozen, sitting on a four poster bed with a family full of strangers in my hand. This room was a memory in time. A photo in itself. If not for the barricaded window, where the sunlight slowly turned red, you wouldn’t be able to tell that life had died everywhere around it. So I stayed there all night. I went downstairs silently, like a child who’d awoken from a nightmare. But there were no parents downstairs, and I crept silently around them to grab a can of beans. Kades big hand squeezed my fragile wrist harshly and the can dropped from my hand. “You’re not taking all of that,” he spoke harshly before opening the can and pouring almost all of the content into an empty one. The rest he gave to me. “Sit down,” he stroked my wrist where he’d hurt me and I coiled away, sitting down reluctantly. I never joined their talk. Ryan was the nicest of them all, though the difference in their behaviors were minimal. They had been just them for so long that Sarah was Ryan and Ryan was Cole and all of them were Kade. Not one authentic trait that wasn’t given to them by the apocalypse. None of their own selves left from before. I pitied it, sort of. When they dozed off in their sleeping bags I snuck back up and crawled under the cold comforter in the bedroom with the photo on the pillow next to me. I tried to imagine living here. With my family, when they were still here. Sleeping next to my parents in their bed even though i probably was a bit too old for it. We wouldn’t tell anyone. Tomorrow we’d make breakfast together, maybe?

Those thoughts put me to sleep.

Bang. I woke with such a violent start that my hand flung the photo to the carpeted floor. It was already broken, but now the glass had fallen out of the frame in pieces completely. I had ruined the last memory of this family. Another bang. It was gunshots and the crashes that followed rumbled the old flooring beneath me. Impulsively I ripped the photo from the frame and stuck it in my pocket. I didn’t know how to move. We had never been in this situation. I had never been apart from the group when we were attacked. They were always there and always merciless. I had to fend for myself still, because they prioritized each other over me anytime. Sometimes it was as if they would purposefully let me fight on my own despite them being fully capable of helping me. I swung my backpack on, in case I had to run again. My hands trembled and the gun nearly slipped from my grasp. I creaked open the bedroom door, right at the top of the stairs. “Fucking get him!” I heard Ryan yell. More crashes, grunts. The stairs creaked as I took a step but another noise covered it. Blood sprayed on the wall next to the broken front door. Greasy black hair, fell with a thud to the ground. Blood started to pool around Sarah’s head, which was all of her I could see from this angle. I breathed in. It smelled like being on summer camp. Sunlight, fresh air but a metallic, wooden scent interfered with the peaceful memory. Kane roared and I heard him surge towards whoever the perpetrator was. I closed my eyes harshly until it hurt, then I opened them and ran down the stairs as the spots faded away from my sight. My gun was stretched in front of me. Everything after that happened so fast I barely caught it. An elbow to Ryan's face who stumbled backwards. To clean shots through Cole's stomach. Bang, bang, thud. Bile rose in my throat. My gun was still in front of me. I didn’t move. I didn’t know what I felt.

A loud grunt, a missed shot but a punch to the gut from Kade to the stranger. He was hardened too, but not in the cold, menacing way of the others. He looked human, I thought, right before he twisted Kades arm around in a nasty crack, pushing his back into the man's chest before firing a bullet right through his temples. Kade looked at me then, and for the first and only time I saw something else in his eyes. He looked scared. Like a little boy who’d been told off. Who’d been left alone and scolded and shown no love, who now pleaded for it for the last time ever. And then my eyes turned sympathetic. I did everything I could to give him that last piece of whatever feeling closest to affection I had for him and a peace fell over his eyes right as the bullet tore through him. My mouth was sour, and I leaned down, throwing up right next to Sarah’s body.

The stranger let Kade fall to his knees, discarded him and stalked towards me with a reaction time that seemed inhuman. I expected the harsh, calloused hands of a man piercing my skin. Like Kade’s used to. I dropped the gun. It landed in my own puke. The man stopped between me and the mess. We both looked down. Then we looked up. My eyes were filled with hot, stingy tears from throwing up. Maybe fear. He breathed harshly, quickly and his nostrils flared. His eyes were dark as he looked demandingly underneath his furrowed brows. He had a handsome face, salt and pepper scruff, a hooked nose and sloped lips. But he also was hardened from this world.

His shoulders fell, quickly aware that I probably wasn’t the biggest threat around. That irritated me, and I squared up, fisting my hands. “Get away or I'll punch you.” I said. There was volume in my voice that I didn't expect. He didn’t move, but looked down on my petty gun again. Then he turned around, and started searching the bodies of my old crew. He took their guns, searched them. I stood still. I was shaking like a leaf and tears rolled down my cheeks now silently. I wasn’t sad for these people. I was sad for the last time this happened. When it was the people I cared for that lay still while I stood up. I cried for them, tightly fisting the photo of the family I found in my pocket. The man stopped, and looked at me. “I’ll leave some stuff for you,” he said. His voice was gruff. And it hit me like bricks, so hard I nearly folded into two again. I was going to be left alone. The man was looking done, about to leave again. Then there would be silence, like when snow falls. Nothing.

“Take me with you,” I said, too desperate for my liking but suddenly he felt like the last thing I had in the world even though I didn't even know his name.

“No,” he said, and walked out the backdoor without looking back. I wiped my gun off in Sarah’s shirt, with a little regret but not so much that i felt guilty and followed the man out. He had a horse that was tied to a tree.

“You have to.” i stated, my breathing quick and shallow. I would not let him leave.

“I don’t, actually.”

Did he not feel any remorse? What if that was my family he just killed, and then left me for myself. Not even so merciful as to put me in the grave with them? But they weren’t my family and I would not go with them into death, but this man didn’t know.

“You just killed everything around me.” It wasn’t the first time that had happened and I felt like I was grasping at water, trying to hold it in my hand. I heaved in a gasp of shock and sorrow and it was what finally made him look at me. His brows furrowed even more, if possible. His face softened, and I swore I saw guilt flash across his still-new features. He was listening.

“I’m silent. You won’t even know i’m here. And as soon, I promise, as soon as we come across somewhere else I can stay, I'll leave. But you owe me a ride.” I wasn’t used to selling myself, to making me sound like someone you’d want along on your travels and even though my face heated with embarrassment and the words I spoke, it was all the hope I had not to curl up in that four poster bed until I withered into nothing.

He said nothing for a while, looking somewhere behind me in thought. I mustered my most desperate eyes. I tried baring my soul through them for him to see that I needed this. He already seemed ways better than any of the four people that had taken me upon since the tragic incident.

“As soon as we find something.. livable, you’re gone.” he grumbled. The relief made my knees weak, air seeped out of me uncontrollably and I had to hold onto the tree so as to not fall in on myself.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whispered, tasting tears on my lips that I wiped profusely. I was not to be a burden to this man before I had even gotten onto his horse.

“Just follow me and stay quiet,” he said, pulling the horse along with him. We walked, and I didn't look back. The blue house I swore to leave forever behind me. The photo I held onto. The sun was only just rising, cold and bright as it stretched over the abandoned houses. We walked in the middle of the road, on each side of the horse. I felt warmth on my skin, on my hair and I combed it down with my fingers and braided it down my back. And no one laughed, or said anything. I realized this might have been my rescue as I looked up at the pine trees ahead, instead of down at the gravel. I looked anywhere I liked and made my hair look nice and I stroked the now curled up photo with my thumb, looking over at the man.

“What's your name?”

I had already broken one of three rules: stay silent, follow me, leave me alone as soon as possible.

He sighed, “you’re not very good at this.”

Even his scolding, and his glare was everything Kades wasn’t. There was no malice, no intention to hurt. I didn’t feel fear in my gut.

“I’m Belle. Like the princess” I peaked over the horse’s moving body.

“Like bellflowers,” he said, glancing at me for barely a second. Like a bellflower, blooming, delicate and untouched by the world. I wish it was so.

“Joel. My name is Joel”

✿✿✿

chapter two

58 notes · View notes

loveroftoomanyfandoms · 9 months

Text

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 5

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, probably won't)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, but he is a naughty-minded flirt 😉

Word Count: exactly 3200 for this chapter

A/N: And we're back! Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying this story so far, and please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my others!

(Thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider she made for me!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle

Ugh, this is ridiculous, you thought to yourself the next morning as you tossed yet another rejected outfit onto your bed. You had been torn between wanting to dress professionally since you were technically working and wearing something more casual since you knew you would be watching Chef Murdock cook and didn't want to accidentally ruin one of your nicer outfits, and had ransacked your closet in order to find something in-between. It's not like it actually matters what I wear anyway.

Finally you pulled on a pair of jeans and a cute-but-casual top then hurriedly finished getting ready before heading towards Daredevil.

You sucked in a breath as you spotted Chef Murdock waiting for you outside of the restaurant. Goddamn, even dressed casually he's sexy as all hell.

He was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans today, paired with black sneakers and a comfortably-worn-looking brown leather jacket.

His head turned towards you as you approached. "Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Hi," you replied. "How'd you know it was me?"

"You slowed down as you approached me," Chef Murdock replied. "If it hadn't been you you more than likely wouldn't have changed your pace, so I made an educated guess."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that makes sense." You shook your head. "I guess you kinda have to pay extra attention to your surroundings, huh?"

Chef Murdock nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had to learn to utilize my remaining senses to adapt to the environment around me.”

He held a to-go cup of coffee out towards you. "Here, I picked up some coffee for you. I wasn't exactly sure what you'd want so I got you something based on what you were drinking at the Bulletin the other day."

Your eyebrows raised. To you your coffee always smelled like, well, coffee, but Chef Murdock was trained in the culinary arts -- he could probably tell what sweeteners and syrups were in a cup of coffee just from the scent alone.

You took a sip then nodded in approval. "This is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Chef Murdock took a sip of his own coffee. "So since any culinary dish starts with its ingredients, I thought we'd begin our cooking demo at the farmer's market this morning."

You nodded. "Okay, yeah, that sounds great. Do you mind if I record our conversation while we walk? Sometimes something will jump out in casual conversation that's good for my article."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Not at all."

"Great, thanks." You took your phone out of your pocket and started recording, once again stating your name, the date, and the time. "Interview of Chef Matthew Murdock, part 2."

Chef Murdock gestured down the sidewalk. "Shall we, then?"

"Sure."

You headed down the sidewalk together, the gentle tapping of Chef Murdock's cane against the pavement creating a rhythm with your steps.

"So, um, how was dinner service last night?" you asked.

"It was… okay," Chef Murdock replied. "Not quite what I'd hoped for in terms of customers, but we're still finding our footing."

You nodded. "Well, hopefully my profile of you for the Bulletin will help get the word out."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Fingers crossed. So what about you? How was your evening? Have any big Friday night plans?"

You shook your head with a light laugh. "Not unless you counted a date with my Netflix account."

Chef Murdock chuckled. "That actually sounds really nice."

"I would ask if you got to do anything after the restaurant closed, but I'm sure you probably just went home and rested."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Actually, I have after-hours access to a gym near my apartment, so I frequently go there to work off my energy from service before heading home."

I wonder what kind of workouts he does to gain those biceps of his , you thought as you glanced over at his arms.

"Boxing."

You looked up at Chef Murdock's face, which was sporting a small smirk. Shit, did I say that out loud? "Pardon?"

"I said I box," Chef Murdock repeated. "It helps me blow off steam after service and focus when I'm stuck on a recipe."

"Ah, okay. So did your dad teach you how to fight?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, he didn't want me to be part of that world, said he wanted better for me than to come home with bruises and broken ribs every night like he did. He encouraged me to focus on my education, said he didn’t want to see me have to struggle in life like he did."

You looked up at him as the two of you paused at a crosswalk. "I think he would be proud of you, you know."

Chef Murdock sighed. "I would hope so. Not sure he'd be too proud of the way I treated you when we first met the other day though."

You shook your head. "It’s okay, really. We all have our off days. And speaking of off days, do you get any time off to relax and do anything fun?"

Chef Murdock nodded. "I take Sunday after brunch service to relax and unwind. Sometimes Mondays too, but most Mondays I'm at the restaurant testing and perfecting new recipes."

"Like your apology tiramisu?"

Chef Murdock chuckled. "Yeah, but I'm also working on a few other recipes as well right now, appetizers and main dishes and such."

You continued on as the crosswalk sign switched from 'stop' to 'walk'. "How long have you been at the Bulletin ?" Chef Murdock asked.

"Five years," you replied. "I was at the Bugle for a little while before that, but the editor was only interested in unsubstantiated gossip and wouldn't let me write the kind of pieces I wanted to write."

"Which are human-interest stories?"

You nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I like to dig into a good investigative assignment just as much as the next journalist, but my stories don't always have to be hard-hitting exposés -- I want our readers to connect to the people I write about."

Chef Murdock looked contemplative. "That's admirable. So what made you want to be a journalist?"

"I've always loved listening to people talk about their lives and hearing about their hopes and dreams. One day I decided I wanted to be able to share their stories with the world and since I always had a knack for writing, I decided to become a journalist."

"Where did you go to school?"

You huffed out a light laugh. "Hey, who's interviewing who here?"

Chef Murdock grinned, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. "Sorry."

You shook your head. "It's fine, I'm totally kidding. I just didn't think you'd want to hear me ramble on about myself."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, it's fine, I uh… Actually I really like your voice."

Your face heated. "Oh."

Chef Murdock shrugged, suddenly looking a bit shy. "I mean, I can't recognize people by their looks, obviously, so I pay a lot of attention to people's voices. Yours sounds nice."

Your heart fluttered again. Chill out, he's not flirting with you. "Thank you. I, um, I went to Columbia, by the way."

Chef Murdock nodded. "I considered going there -- thought about being a lawyer for a while, but I ultimately decided to go to culinary school instead."

You could picture Chef Murdock in a business suit, arguing a case in front of a captivated jury. He certainly could sway my opinion. "Oh, wow, that's… quite a different career path."

"Yeah, I thought that was what my dad would have wanted me to do but I eventually realized that what he really would have wanted was for me to be happy and do what I love."

"Which is cooking."

Chef Murdock smiled. "Yeah, cooking really is my passion. I love taking different ingredients and putting them together in order to create something for people to enjoy."

"That's really nice."

The two of you slowed down as you reached the lot where the farmer's market was held. "Here we are," Chef Murdock said.

You looked at the expanse of booths. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking… how do you know which vendors are where?"

Chef Murdock smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all. The vendors all have assigned spaces, so I've learned to map out who is located where. Plus Foggy comes with me most of the time to help out, or Karen will if Foggy's not available."

"Oh, okay."

The two of you began walking down the first row of vendors. "So, what are we looking for?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "We're just going to browse and see what we can find."

He slowed as you reached a booth featuring baskets of farm-fresh eggs. "We'll definitely need some eggs though."

You nodded. "Okay."

The two of you stopped at the booth.

"Good morning, Chef," the vendor said. "How can I help you today?"

"Morning, Oscar," Chef Murdock replied. "We'd like a dozen eggs, please."

"Of course." The vendor waved a hand at the baskets of eggs. "Take your pick."

Chef Murdock reached out and felt the eggs in one of the baskets. "We'll take these."

The vendor nodded. "Alrighty then."

He took the eggs out of the basket and set them in a cardboard carton. "That'll be $5."

Chef Murdock took his wallet out of his pocket and opened it before taking out a $5 bill and handing it to the vendor.

The vendor took it then handed Chef Murdock the carton of eggs. "Here you go, Chef. See you next week."

Matt gave the vendor a slight nod. "Thanks, Oscar. See ya."

The two of you continued on, stopping occasionally to chat with different vendors and purchase various fruits and vegetables. You watched in fascination as Chef Murdock took his time choosing each one, squeezing and smelling each individual item before deciding whether or not it was worth purchasing.

Finally you asked, "how can you tell if something is ripe or not?"

"Each individual fruit and vegetable has a distinct firmness and smell to them," Chef Murdock replied as the two of you stopped at a booth that was selling mangos. "I've learned to determine at what point they're at their ripest."

He picked up a mango. "Like mangos, for instance."

He took your hand and placed the mango in it. "Feel how firm this one is?"

You nodded, trying to focus on the fruit in your hand and not how Chef Murdock's touch was making your heart start to race. "Uh huh."

"Now smell it."

You held the mango up to your nose. "I don't smell anything."

"That means it's not quite ripe yet." Chef Murdock took the mango and set another one in your hand. "On the other hand, this one is a bit overripe."

You squeezed the mango, this one much softer than the other. "Okay."

Chef Murdock held a third mango up to your nose. "Smell this one."

You inhaled, a slightly mango-y scent filling your nostrils. "It smells like mango."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Exactly."

He swapped the mango currently in your hand with the one in his. "Now feel it."

You squeezed. It had more give than the first one but less than the second. "Okay, yeah, I can tell the difference."

"This one is perfectly ripe." Chef Murdock took the mango back, his fingertips slowly grazing your palm as he did so.

You swallowed. You couldn't deny that Chef Murdock was extremely attractive, but you were there to do your job, not lust after the man. Keep it professional.

You waited as he selected a few more mangos and paid the vendor before moving on.

You reached the last row of booths and stopped in front of one called Claire-romatherapy.

The vendor walked over to the two of you with a smile on her face. "Morning, Matt."

Chef Murdock grinned. "Morning, Claire."

He turned to introduce the two of you. "Claire helps run the community garden near my apartment," he explained. "I grow herbs there."

"Ah, okay," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Claire said. "So what brings you two by today?"

Matt adjusted the bag he was carrying on his shoulder. "Actually, I'm almost out of that lemon soap and I was wondering if you had any in stock."

Claire nodded. "Actually, yeah, let me grab some for you. How many did you need today?"

"I'll take two. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

You picked up a soy-based candle and gave it a sniff, the subtle scent of coconut and mahogany filling your nose. "Mmm. How much are your candles?"

Claire glanced over at you from where she was sorting through a bin of various soaps. "Six for the smaller ones, ten for the large."

You nodded and went to dig your wallet out of your purse.

Chef Murdock placed a hand on your arm. "I've got it."

You shook your head. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly --"

"No, I insist." Chef Murdock smiled at you. "Considering I'm the one who dragged you out here at 8 AM on a Saturday it's the least I can do."

You bit your lip, then sighed as you put your wallet away. "Okay then. Thank you."

"Alright," Claire said, returning with Chef Murdock's soap. "Total comes to sixteen dollars."

Chef Murdock handed her some cash. "I'll see you next week, Claire."

"Okay. Take care, Matt." Claire turned towards you. "And it was very nice to meet you."

"You too," you replied.

"Alright, I think that's everything," Chef Murdock said as the two of you walked back towards the entrance. "Let's get back to the restaurant."

You nodded as you headed down the sidewalk together, excited to find out what sort of culinary creation Chef Murdock had in mind.

"Okay," Matt said half an hour later as he set a plate of crepes topped with fresh fruit, honey, and whipped cream in front of where you sat at the prep counter in the kitchen at Daredevil.

After finishing up at the farmer's market the two of you had gone back to the restaurant, where you had watched Matt prepare breakfast.

Matt had admittedly shown off his skills a bit, making perfectly cooked crepes and slicing the fruit with culinary precision before making freshly whipped cream.

"Oh my gosh, this looks amazing," you said.

Matt smiled as he set his own plate down across from you. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks then."

He waited as you cut a piece and took a bite. He knew every ingredient was exactly as it should be but was still nervous about your reaction.

You let out a moan. "Ohmigod ."

Matt sucked in a breath, his mind wandering to other sorts of situations in which he could get you to make those pleased sounds for him. He knew you were attracted to him -- all of the physiological signs he had picked up on had pointed to such -- and the more he had gotten to know you over the past several days, the more attracted he found himself becoming towards you in return.

He cleared his throat, fighting to keep his thoughts professional. "Good?"

You made a sound of affirmation as you took another bite. "Please tell me that your crepes are on the Sunday brunch menu."

Matt chuckled as he took a bite of his own crepes. "As a matter of fact, they are."

You took a sip of the freshly-squeezed orange juice Matt had also prepared. "Mmm, good, because now I know what I'm doing tomorrow morning."

Come home with me tonight and I'll make you all the crepes you want.

Matt could imagine himself in his apartment's kitchen, making breakfast as you sat at his kitchen island wearing nothing but one of his shirts after a night of passionate lovemaking.

He mentally shook his head. He would definitely need to blow off some steam at the gym after service tonight. "I'm glad you like them."

You made another pleased sound. "These are amazing, honestly."

The two of you continued eating in comfortable silence. Once you were finished, you set your fork onto your plate. "That was so good."

Matt smiled. "Thanks."

He picked up your plates and brought them to the sink to wash them later, then turned towards the receiving door as the bell rang. "Oh, excuse me one second."

He walked over and answered it, the smell of motor oil and fresh blood filling his nostrils. "Hey, Frank."

"Hiya, Red," Frank replied. "I've got your delivery for today."

Matt nodded. "Come on in."

Frank wheeled the cooler with the fresh meat Matt had ordered into the kitchen, pausing when he saw you. "I didn't realize you had company. I could've come later."

Matt shook his head before introducing you. "She's doing a profile on me for the Bulletin. "

He gestured back to Frank. "This is Frank Castle. He's our meat supplier for the restaurant."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

"Likewise, ma'am," Frank replied.

Matt took the clipboard Frank handed him, feeling for the sticky flag he needed to sign by. "Give me just a second to take care of this."

"Actually, I should get going," you said. "I'm sure you have to start prepping for service soon and I don't want to be in the way."

As much as Matt didn't want you to have to go, you were right. He nodded. "Give me just a second and I'll walk you out."

"Okay."

He finished signing off on the meat order and handed the clipboard back to Frank. "Thanks, Frank."

Frank shook his hand. "No problem, Red, see ya Tuesday. Ma'am."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

Matt waited until the rumble of Frank's truck faded off into the distance before turning back to you. "By the way, if you're ever looking for someone interesting to profile, Frank's your guy."

"Oh?" you replied curiously as he escorted you towards the front door.

Matt nodded. "He's a former military veteran who was shot in the head while overseas then lost his wife and kids in a shootout between two rival gangs."

You sucked in a breath. "Oh my gosh, that's awful."

"He became a rancher in order to help with the PTSD and is now one of the biggest beef suppliers in New York."

"I'll definitely keep him in mind then. Thanks."

You both paused as you reached the door.

"I… I had a really nice time today, Chef Murdock," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

"No problem." Matt rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Um, you know… you can call me Matt if you'd like."

"Okay," you said, a smile in your voice. "Thanks… Matt."

Matt smiled at the way his first name rolled off your tongue. "You're welcome."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Matt nodded. "Have Karen let me know that you're here and I'll come say hi."

"I will."

Matt unlocked the door. "See you tomorrow."

He sighed as he let you out then locked the door behind you. It was getting more and more difficult to fight the mutual attraction between you… and honestly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to keep fighting it.

#lotmf writes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x you #Cooking Up Love Masterlist

100 notes · View notes

kuragesil · 7 months

Text

o potatus et molassus

grow, tiny seed. you are called to the trees.

WARNINGS: book 7 spoilers, inspired by over the garden wall (you don't need to see it to understand this fic, but i highly recommend! but be warned i did take inspiration so it might be slight spoilers for the show), a bit of body horror?

NOTES: hi! so, i had this fic in the works before i watched otgw, but i watched it all yesterday and it is amazing. please listen to potatus et molassus before/while reading (here!), as it's the main inspiration behind this fic. but anyways, i wanted this to be longer but my writing blog is still under construction & i wanted to get this out before halloween was over so it's a bit brief and the ending is pretty abrupt! it's highly possible that i'll come back to this to revamp it & my blog theme.

AND FINALLY: this fic was also inspired by @llondonfog & @serenescribe 's diasomnia fics! both of their works are lovely & they both have wonderful writing styles, and their works have inspired me to try to branch out into horror (despite being scared of Everything Ever). please go check out their fics!

my main blog: @valleyofliyue

BRIAR VALLEY IS ALIVE.

The swaying of the leaves, the dancing of the flowers and the rushing of the waters—all of it is Her body, just as any typical fae has blood running through their veins and organs pumping throughout their being.

The Valley remembers everything. Every footstep set upon Her soil, every house built upon Her land and every tree torn from Her roots—every blessing and transgression is etched and carved into Her skin and memory, only to dull with Time Himself.

She is greater than any book or scroll — for when it comes to history, She is history.

Every fae knows this. He knew this. Lilia knew this.

As he ran through that dark and dense wood, he cursed himself thoroughly, wondering why he pretended as if he didn’t possess such basic knowledge.

Clutching a beautiful, wondrous bracelet made of acorns, he ran and ran—ignoring the burning sensation in his legs yelling at him to stop; to give up this human.

He reckons it’s the General, still humiliated and scarred from events 400 years ago—it’s ironic, how the spirit haunting him the most was a pathetic soldier he loathed to remember.

The rain came down hard and cold, pricking his flesh, trying to draw blood from his skin. He ignored it, he didn’t care. He had no time to care—when Silver, his son—!

Lilia stopped in his tracks abruptly, hands shaking at the sight before him.

A boy—his boy—being hugged to death by the branches of the Yew trees; sticky black sap dripped from wounds where blood should be bled. Silver’s once soft and pale flesh was turning a dull, muted brown that was bumpy and rough. Gentle, kind aurora colored eyes—more gorgeous and glittering than the biggest gemstones—had lost their light, losing their innocent sparkle.

But the most eye-catching part of this horrifying display was his hair.

His moonlit white locks were transforming back to their original state—that golden sunshine spreading throughout the whole head. Lilia has his own bias, preferring the moonlight as Silver’s crown instead of the sunshine.

(For the moon crown is a clear sign that this boy is his own, his son.)

However, Lilia isn’t one to reject all other options when laid out before him, he admits that the golden locks were not a bad look for Silver, either. If Silver had a normal childhood as Prince of the Land of Swords, he would never have become a Blessed Child of the Night—something Lilia often wonders if that would have been better for the boy in the long run.

A wonder that has his heart tighten at the reality before him. For Lilia knows this has cemented his long and deep-seated fear.

She knew.

The Valley knew. She knew that Silver was of the same blood that had ravaged Her lands and ransacked Her flora and fauna—actions that left Her barren and violated, actions that were deemed unforgivable. Never mind the fact that Silver was innocent to all of that, never mind the fact that he was not his family.

No, Silver was a remnant of evil, and must be taken care of; his crown of moonlight reverting back to his crown of sunshine was just a reminder of his wretched lineage.

The ground below Silver lowered deeper, capturing his limbs and sinking him underneath the surface. Lilia panicked, using all of his strength and magic to tear away at the branches and pull his son out of this trap.

“Silver…! SILVER! SAY SOMETHING!” he roared with desperation.

The boy squinted at his father, trying to open his lips ever so slightly; tiredly trying to think of something to say to him.

“... t… F….” he rasped. He took a sharp intake of breath all of a sudden, and Lilia thought his heart would burst.

He could see a branch growing bigger and bigger inside of his son’s mouth, twisting and curling as it rose up the surface, as if to taunt Lilia. As if to punish him for taking in the son of the enemy.

Still ripping the branches off of the boy’s body and attempting to pull him out of the soil, he looks around in desperation, as if She would set Silver free from this undeserved judgment.

“Please… PLEASE! He… he’s been a babe for four centuries, but he’s only been a boy for so long! Don’t punish the innocent!” Lilia pleads, lungs being pushed to their limit; the retired general thought he would start coughing up blood.

Lilia hoped that The Valley would relent, releasing Silver from Her grasp and returning him to Lilia’s—the place where he belongs.

The Valley looks down upon the two traitors.

She makes her final decision.

#milie writings #twisted wonderland #silver twst #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland fanfiction

61 notes · View notes

dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

Text

A federal judge in Wisconsin ruled Wednesday that a wrongful death lawsuit filed by the father of a man shot and killed by Kyle Rittenhouse during a protest in 2020 can proceed against Rittenhouse, police officers and others.

The father of Anthony Huber, one of two men shot and killed by Rittenhouse, filed the lawsuit in 2021, accusing officers of allowing for a dangerous situation that violated his son's constitutional rights and resulted in his death. Anthony Huber's father, John Huber, also alleged that Rittenhouse, who was 17 at the time of the shootings, conspired with law enforcement to cause harm to protestors. John Huber is seeking unspecified damages from city officials, officers and Rittenhouse.

U.S. District Judge Lynn Adelman on Wednesday dismissed motions filed by Rittenhouse and the government defendants seeking to dismiss the civil rights lawsuit.

In allowing the case against Rittenhouse and the others to proceed, the judge said that Anthony Huber's death "could plausibly be regarded as having been proximately caused by the actions of the governmental defendants."

Rittenhouse attorney Shane Martin said in a phone interview that it's important to note the ruling doesn't address the merits of the case, it only allows it to proceed to the next phase.

"While we respect the judge's decision, we do not believe there is any evidence of a conspiracy and we are confident, just as a Kenosha jury found, Kyle's actions that evening were not wrongful and were undertaken in self defense," Martin said.

Attorneys and private investigators for John Huber spent over 100 hours trying to locate Rittenhouse, tracking down addresses in seven states before they found the home of his mother and sister in Florida. The lawsuit was served on Rittenhouse's sister, who said that he wasn't home. Adelman said that was sufficient to qualify as being served.

Rittenhouse had argued that the case against him should be dismissed because he wasn't properly served with the lawsuit. Adelman dismissed that, saying that Rittenhouse "is almost certainly evading service."

"Rittenhouse has been deliberately cagey about his whereabouts," Adelman wrote. "Although he denies living in Florida, he does not identify the place that he deems to be his residence."

Attorneys for the law enforcement and government officials being sued did not immediately return emailed messages seeking comment.

The ruling puts Anthony Huber's family "one step closer to justice for their son's needless death," said Anand Swaminathan, one of the attorneys for parents John Huber and Karen Bloom.

"The Kenosha officials that created a powder keg situation by their actions tried to claim that they cannot be held accountable for their unconstitutional conduct; that argument was soundly rejected today," Swaminathan said in a statement.

Rittenhouse was charged with homicide, attempted homicide and reckless endangering for killing Anthony Huber and Joseph Rosenbaum and wounding a third person with an AR-style semi-automatic rifle in the summer of 2020 during a tumultuous night of protests over the shooting of a Black man, Jacob Blake, by a white Kenosha police officer.

Rittenhouse was acquitted of all charges in November 2021 after testifying he acted in self-defense. Rittenhouse's actions became a flashpoint in the debate over guns, vigilantism and racial injustice in the U.S.

Rittenhouse went to Kenosha from his home in nearby Antioch, Illinois, after businesses were ransacked and burned in the nights that followed Blake's shooting. He joined other armed civilians on the streets, carrying a weapon authorities said was illegally purchased for him because he was underage.

Rittenhouse first killed Rosenbaum, 36, in the parking lot of an auto dealership and as Rittenhouse ran from the scene he stumbled and fell. Anthony Huber, 26, struck Rittenhouse with his skateboard and tried to disarm him. Rittenhouse fell to the ground and shot Anthony Huber to death and wounded demonstrator Gaige Grosskreutz, 27.

This case is one of several ongoing civil lawsuits filed in the wake of the shootings. Grosskreutz last year filed a similar lawsuit against Rittenhouse.

Rittenhouse has maintained a high public profile, particularly on social media, where he is an outspoken advocate for gun rights. He has nearly 1 million followers on Twitter and has spoken at conservative gatherings.

193 notes · View notes

rewritingcanon · 11 months

Text

marauder characters red flags teehee

james: one of them rich, only children who tries to cosplay poverty. like he will live in a share house when he doesnt need to, eat two minute noodles every day when he doesnt need to, complain about his rent when he can totally afford it, and repost sibling media but will tag his friends instead ☠️

lily: has y/n syndrome

sirius: not a surprise to anyone, but he will do the most heinous thing and will say ‘it was just for laughs 🤷‍♂️’ when questioned about it

remus: SO niche but is the type of bitch to run the socialist club and hold meetings but to get in the entry fee will be like $60

peter: type to say “that’s ok. no one really likes me anyways 🚶‍♂️” when he gets rejected (he’s actually being genuine about it…. which is still icky tbh)

severus: no skincare routine, no hair care routine… seriously eating two meals a day and sleeping seven hours a night his idea of self care

regulus: gatekeeps anything he likes and if he finds out you have a shared interest with him…… be prepared for 28 questions to prove you’re a ‘real fan’.

barty: type to scratch his butt and then sniff his hand

evan: type to ask for a whimper audio. or ask for a thug shake.

marlene: would ransack a church. probably would do it during a sermon too

dorcas: purposefully puts on a mommy voice for clout💀💀

mary: you’re ranting to her but she always has to give you advice. and then she asks you ‘was my advice good? everyone says my advice is the best ☺️’

emmeline: will cook/bake you something bc she wants to do something nice for you but everything she makes is literally poisonous and will give you food poisoning (and she manages to do this by accident every time, which is even more impressive)

lucius: would call someone a peasant, and it may seem like he’s just teasing, but he quite literally isn’t. he fucking hates the poor.

narcissa: thinks gaslighting is a love language

fabian: when asked ‘do i look fat in this?’ he just laughs. he wont even answer you. he’ll just laugh

sybill: will think she’s oppressed because people dont like her being a seer 🥺

alice: will offer to cut her friend’s hair and will give them the most ugly ass cut of their life

frank: posts gym workout photos on his ig

pandora: people talk about the ‘2020 cringe era’ but in all truth thats just her rancid personality

xenophilius: is an adult with bracers. his name is also xenophilius 🤮

petunia: is the type to ask in a really scarily angry tone “im sorry, am i boring you?” if you yawn around her whilst she’s talking

gilderoy: would say some insane type of shit when doing his makeup like “mirror mirror on the wall” or something. and be lowkey serious about it. he’s fucking delulu bro.

60 notes · View notes

once-in-a-blood-moon · 2 years

Text

Of Dice and Sin

Mammon x GN! reader :)

Summary: Mammon loses his lucky dice and you decide to help him with his little dilemma.

No warnings or anything, so enjoy!

Mammon dug through his closet for a third time, tossing out any clothes he’d missed the first two times, turning them inside out in his frantic search.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Turning around he kicks the nearest piles of clothes in frustration. His eyes catch the two couches in this room, and bolts towards them, deciding to ransack the couch furthest from him. Mammon hastily throws the pillows to the ground, and yanked the cushions out of their spots haphazardly. Coming up empty handed at the immediate couch, he rushes around his coffee table to the other one. He flings the pillows aside and his fingers grip the cushions once more about to tear them off.

“Mammon?” The second born jumps from the sudden intrusion, recognizing the voice instantly. He turns his head to acknowledge your presence before returning to his task.

“Have ya ever heard of knockin’? The hell do ya want anyway, The Great Mammon’s a little busy at the moment.” You hardly stifle a chuckle at his greeting.

“Mammon, you never knock when you come to my room.” Mammon momentarily freezes, caught up in the hypocrisy of his words. He’s glad he’s turned away from you so you can’t see his face light up in embarrassment.

“Yeah, well you should be grateful that The Great Mammon even visits ya in the first place!” Mammon retorts as he sloppily places the cushions back on the couch, flopping himself down in rejection.

“So, what’s going on?” You walked over to the opposing couch, picking up one of the cushions on the way to place it back where it belongs, before taking a seat. Mammon lifted his head to look at you.

“I lost m’lucky dice.”

“...You have lucky dice?”

Mammon’s whole body shot off the couch, a hand flailing wildly in emphasis. “Yes! They were specially enchanted to give the owner extra luck! And by luck, I mean they automatically roll on the numbers I need. It’s how I win my games at the casino!”

You hummed and nodded at his explanation. “I think our definitions of luck and cheating are wildly different… Anyways, how’d you even get a hold of them in the first place, Mammon?”

“I owed a witch a favor and after helpin’ her out, she gave me those dice.” Mammon flopped back on the couch once again. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled locks. “And now I can’t find ‘em.”

You pursed your lips in thought. You felt bad for the greedy demon, maybe there was something you could do. You jumped up from his couch, before quickly making your way to the door. Mammon’s eyes trailed your figure in confusion.

“Where ya goin’? Ya just got here.”

You turned around as your hand made contact with the doorknob. “And now I’m just leaving.” You gave him a playful smirk before heading out the door.

“Fine, didn’t want ya to stay anyway!” Mammon called out as the door closed. His eyes shifted blankly to the coffee table in front of him. Now he was without his dice and he was without you. What a lousy day.

It had been a week without his lucky dice, and Mammon had been feeling the effects like withdrawal. He hadn’t won a single bet or game at the casino, which put him in substantially more debt and substantially more trouble with Lucifer.

Last night he had made the brave decision to not go and gamble until he either found his lucky dice or came up with another pair altogether. And he got right to looking in his bed as he wallowed in self-pity. And on top of that you hadn’t hung around him much since the day he’d told you about his dice. Anytime he’d suggested the two of you do something together, you would sputter out some excuse as to not hang out before hurrying past him. What the hell was all that about?

A knock rapped on his door, causing Mammon to jolt out of his thoughts.

“Go away! I don’t need anyone botherin’ me right now!” The door knob turned regardless, and Mammon pulled his head out of the covers to yell at whoever was interrupting his exclusive pity party. The door slowly opened as you popped your head into his room.

“Hey.” You fully made your way inside before closing the door and walking to stand by Mammon’s bed.

Mammon looked at you astounded. You had went M.I.A. for a week and the first thing you say to him is ‘hey?’ The nerve of his human! You were going to get an earful, before you presented Mammon a small gift wrapped box, no bigger than a ring box. His eyes carefully studied the box in your hand, returning to your expectant gaze.

“What’s that for? If ya think you can be forgiven with a measly little present like that, then you really are a stupid human.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Look I know that I haven’t been around you this whole week, but it’s for good reason. Now will you just take the box and shut up?” You reach your hand out a little more to coax Mammon to take the box. It works. He rips the wrapping off the box and opens it, eyes widening at what’s inside.

Two dice sit inside of the box, both a different color.

“They’re lucky dice. I’ve been having Solomon help me out with the enchantment all week, and that’s why I haven’t been able to hang out with you. I also didn’t want to accidentally spoil the surprise, so that’s another reason. I hope you like them.”

Mammon looks up to you, mouth agape at the sweet gesture. “You did all this for me?”

You smiled and nodded. Mammon closed the lid on the box before pulling you down on his bed, tackling you in a tight hug. He had missed his lucky dice, but he had missed you more during what felt like an eternity. He hated not having you around. But it certainly was all forgiven knowing the reason why. Mammon lifted his head off of you wanting to ask yet another question.

“Why are the dice different colors?” He thought back to the one yellow and one blue dice that were sat in the box.

“They’re the colors in your eyes.” You gazed up into the very inspiration for the dice with a soft smile, making Mammon fluster. You took this moment to initiate a gentle kiss, ending just as quickly as it began. As Mammon regained his bearings, he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Nu-uh, that wasn’t nearly enough. If yer really sorry for abandonin’ me for a week, you’ll give me more kisses.” You giggled and obliged him, giving him all the kisses he wanted. Mammon didn’t consider himself lucky for having his fancy dice, he considered himself lucky to have you by his side.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me reader insert #obey me mc #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #jo writes

211 notes · View notes

sarucane · 7 months

Text

OFMD Spiral Parallels 29: Silk Robes and Ed's Self-Identity

Intro: What I love most about how season 2 builds on season 1 of OFMD is the spiral narrative structure. Ground is repeatedly and explicitly re-trod from season 1 to season 2, but in season 2 everything goes deeper than season 1. Symbols appear and reappear, transformed. Meanings are shuffled, emotions are stronger and truer, and transformation is showcased above everything. The first season plucks certain notes, then the second season plucks the same ones--but louder, and then it weaves them together to create a symphony.

---

When Stede dumps Ed in the first season of OFMD, Ed spends most of the next episode wearing Stede's dressing gown. The immediate reason he does this seems to be just wanting to be comfortable: when he gets back, he ransacks Stede's cabin for cushions and blankets, then uses those to make a fort.

It's all pretty explicitly childish, but that's not bad. Ed's childhood was traumatic, and in this episode and the previous one, Ed external maturity level is more closely matching his internal emotional maturity level. Ed didn't get to be a kid, he didn't get to be a cringey teenager in love. He's only been able to access this part of himself through Stede, but even with Stede gone he's using what was left behind to figure stuff out about himself. Surrounded by warmth and kindness, he can wear a comfy pink silk robe and slog through an experience of deep emotional discomfort.

And this starts to have real positive results. Ed sings a cringey song to the crew, then explicitly embraces a new identity within that community. He encourages artistic expression, and the group starts to form up around him (a more successful result than Stede's encouragement of the crew's sewing in the first episode). Then he goes back and starts cleaning up the mess he'd made in the cabin. The whole thing is undignified and awkward, but it's genuine positive growth. Wearing the silk robe is good for him.

And then Izzy destroys it all. He tells Ed changing like this is "a fate worse than death." Ed's defense then exposes the fragility of his new identity: "I am still Blackbeard."

And that's actually true: we all contain multitudes, and Ed's identity can include both "Edward" and "Blackbeard." But Izzy rejects the idea that Ed could be both these things. He flattens Ed into one of two mutually exclusive identities. There's Blackbeard, or there's Edward.

And he attacks Edward, hits Ed right where he knows it'll hurt: in just how undignified and "unmanly" he's being, and in how hurt he is to have lost Stede. And just like the kraken was born so Ed could fight back against his father's hurt, the Blackbeard persona takes over to fight back against Izzy's hurt. And Ed take off the silk robe and puts his leathers back on, to project the image of Blackbeard to the world.

And then a pile of time passes, and Ed does a heap of bad shit that can't be undone (Izzy's lost leg is a constant reminder) as he tries to be Blackbeard or nothing else. Stede comes back, relationship things happen, and Ed is wearing a comfy robe again.

This time, the robe certainly seems to actually be Ed's. And it's presented in direct contrast with Ed's leathers, the symbol of his life as Blackbeard. Last season, he threw all the silks in the sea and donned his leathers; this season, he throws his leathers in the sea. He wants to take away from himself the option of being Blackbeard again, to make sure he won't do things like that again by separating himself entirely from the Blackbeard persona.

In many ways, this is good. This whole episode shows how well Ed's doing compared to his headspace back in S2E2, when his despair at himself was so helpless that he chased death. While he was wearing the pink robe in response to the end of an immature relationship, now he's wearing the blue robe and making breakfast as the result of a mature relationship. He's found that part of himself again, with Stede's help.

That being said, Ed isn't really dealing with what he did in the past, with the deep kraken part of himself that Blackbeard was a manifestation of. This robe is very simple, undecorated except for a few tassels. And throwing away his leathers is trying to run from himself, just like how a few hours later he declares himself "a fisherman," and insists "fishermen and pirates are nothing alike." He's going in a better direction, but he's still operating by Izzy's flawed logic: either he's Blackbeard, or he's Edward. And because of that, he makes what might have become the biggest mistake of his life, leaving Stede to what almost became his death.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #ed teach #ofmd meta #izzy hands #stede bonnet #blackbonnet

25 notes · View notes

strrwbrrryjam · 8 months

Text

au where varian manages to escape jail about a year after he's sentenced and runs to his house, to mourn and gather his equipment and his fathers horse and runs away from corona,

he becomes a pirate or simply resides in a village and takes up some of his old reputation (before he became a criminal) where the citizens don't know him and think he's some sort of sorcerer

and all throughout the years he is working tirelessly to find a way to break his father out from the amber

#ooh tell me more tags by @writingraccoon

wonderful! i will

if he's a pirate i think he'd go on a vat7k adventure where he inevitably meet hugo, yong and nuru on the way, except he's still a criminal and he's like twenty odd

he's travels the world on a flying pirate ship, not too dissimilar from the pirate ship from treasure planet, and he's travelling tirelessly around the world searching for an answer (becoming a criminal in several more countries because he keeps. breaking. into. castle. libraries to ransack them for information)

however if we go with the second option, as i mentioned, he takes up his old reputation, where he's talked about by the people in the village as if he's a sorcerer, or a witch, and adults advise them to stay away from that house

until there's a kid who like, decides to break in and see all the fuss is about, and he learns that there's just a twenty year old guy who looks like he hasn't slept a day in his life and his only companion has been a raccoon.

he looks closer at what he's doing and is amazed at it and wants to learn more so he just asks him.

varian is shocked. because. again. his only companion for the last.. six years has been a raccoon and he's also supposed to be in hiding. the kid asks if he can be teach him any of his "spells" and varians too shocked to like. correct him, and tells him yes.

so varian starts teaching this kid science. and then more kids come. and he teaches them science. and it all becomes to a point that he becomes yknow. more involved in the village. and the village love him. because he's so helpful. (unlike the village in old corona)

and thats basically all ive got so far.

in both versions he is working tirelessly to find his father, pirate!varian as I've mentioned becomes a criminal for breaking into castle libraries and libraries and also places in castles where people are not. supposed. to. be. he gets his own crew of misfits and social rejects or other noble kids who have been rejected by society. he rules them with love and compassion and its just a little family. in the beginning of that he was jaded and work focused but they. started to get him to open up and he began to be more like his old self. ruddiger is happy.

in the teacher!varian version, he has some of the amber with him, he managed to replicate the formula of the amber and now he has never met a moments of peace because of that amber. he's living in a constant cycle of nightmares and really does his best of trial and error over and over and over again till he gets some sort of result. ruddiger is very worried.

in both of these versions i do see it going to a vat7k way, but again, where varian is still a criminal and its much further in the future so all the characters are older, like, hugo is 21, varian is 20, nuru is 16 and yong is 14

i havent decided on what the corona characters are doing. it could follow the same events but without varian things are at a stand still, since, yknow, he's the only one who can understand demanitus' handwriting,

if you wanna go super angsty, have rapunzel release quirin from the amber, but i wouldn't go that route and i personally don't like that route because can you imagine how devastating that would be for varian, that all of his tireless journeys have been for naught and that rapunzel was the one to free his father.

anyway, thats all, or all i can think of rn.

#making it its own post cause i want more people to see it #tangled the series #tts #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #tts varian #varian

39 notes · View notes

bridgetotheskyyy · 1 year

Text

heliophilia.

summary: your relationship with yuji ends.

warnings: nsfw, 18+, sadfic, like UNBELIEVABLY sad fic, brief sex scene, breakup, depression, aged up characters, heavy angst, slight fluff in flashbacks.

word count: 2.1k (has no business being this long tbh lol)

a/n: idek where I was mentally when I wrote this trauma so don't ask me lmao. sometimes a bitch feels like crying. Heliophilia: (n.)// Pronunciation: hE-lE-O-‘fil-E-a // Origin: English // Definition: Desire to stay in the sun; Love of sunlight

read on ao3 here.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji’s voice fractured, resisting tears. Emotion was so pronounced in his atonement you could feel the pain living in his throat in your own. “I’m so, so sorry, (Y/n) …”

You faced away from him, back turned from him. Your nails bit into the leather of your jacket so. Your face hot, the threat of tears in your eyes, as well. You tried to focus on the blissful white noise of the fountain, pouring forth its waters in elegant streams, and not Yuji’s aching, agonized breathing.

“It all works out, doesn’t it?” You choked. “If you’re really sorry, you can use all this misery to fuel your cursed energy, can’t you? Not a total loss then —“

“Don’t talk like that!”

Yuji gripped your shoulders, forcefully turning you to face him.

“I love you!” he pleaded. “You know that! Don’t you ever say things like that! I love you, I just — I can’t — we can’t —“

Then why are you hurting me? You wanted to scream back. But you knew — that horrible, sickly type of knowing, like the looming death of a loved one or the scent of a lie — that Yuji was not breaking up with you because he didn’t love you. That wasn’t it. Silence stretched between the two of you in the edenic park and it carried the weight of years, filling the agonizing space.

Then why are you hurting me?

I love you but I’m a sorcerer. I love you but I’m Sukuna’s vessel. I love you but everything’s dying around me. I love you but I couldn’t protect Junpei and one day I won’t be able to protect you, either.

You found yourself laser-focused on Yuji’s hands pressed into your shoulders and wanted to prolong his touch. Finally, the tears began to fall, along with a sob that ransacked your lungs. You lowered your gaze to his chest, the urge to sink into him astounding.

“I love you,” Yuji repeated. “Please believe me …”

Please believe me.

I do.

You managed the last remnants of your strength to pull away from Yuji, one last time. You resisted the heavying ache in your chest as Yuji sunk to his knees, hugging yours. You yanked him away, walking away from the fountain.

“Goodbye, Yuji.”

In hindsight, you would never understand how the possibility of it being the final time you ever saw your ex-boyfriend Yuji didn’t bring you running back to him.

But you kept walking.

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

You flicked the blaring red reject button so hard on your phone it almost fled from your hand, slamming it on the nightstand and sinking back into the grove of sheets.

He wouldn’t stop calling.

It had started that night, having gotten back to your apartment. Thank the gods you lived alone; you broke everything in plain sight. By the time it was over, you were slumped onto the hallway floor, the kitchen floor a sea of broken plate glass, the pillows emptied of their stuffing, vases destroyed. All culminating in your neighbors hurriedly running over, thumping on the door, asking are you okay, we heard crashing, god, we thought there was a fight, are you sure you’re alone? Are you safe? Should we call the cops?

You waved them off best you could, but surely you were not nearly as convincing as you wanted to be with tear-reddened eyes and a croaked voice.

Just a hard time, is all. Just anxiety. I’m going through it, okay? I’ll be fine.

You refused to talk, but that hardly mattered — once it all hushed down, Yuji started.

Messages. Dms. Snapchat. Instagram. Anything he could use you get a hold of you was used to try and talk to you, clear things up, explain. You disabled it all, ironically thankful for the isolation his insistence was situating you in. And somehow you managed to get to sleep that night.

Now, two days later, the ritual was the same. Your phone blared to life, ringing a tone you now thought horrible into the air. You would rush to reject it, slam on nightstand, back to bed.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

You didn’t rise. You didn’t eat. Papers dedicated to different classes sprawled on your office desk, unsure of when you’d be able to get to any of it. Probably never; college seemed such a distant, small thing in the face of losing Yuji, hardly worth a paltry thought in your mind.

Five, afternoon passed. No call. By now, Yuji had to have been persuaded by someone else to stop hounding you — Megumi, probably discouraging him, even taking his phone away from him, maybe.

You’d never know.

Another thought, this one piercing your heart with unexpected ferocity — you even bucked as it arrived to upset you:

Maybe he was dead.

You’d never know.

Whatever relief you had felt as the hour passed into another and no call livened your phone was gone, replaced with grief.

And … longing.

You would’ve done anything to talk to him.

Please, you thought, twisting toward your nightstand, eyeing your phone. Please, call again. I promise I’ll pick up. Yuji … Your phone did nothing, resting on your stand, black and unresponsive.

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

The first thing you grew to miss was his voice.

Your mornings would begin with his soft acknowledgment before being accompanied by lips pressed to your forehead — “Morning, (Y/n).” — your evenings full with Yuji, tailing you around the apartment, helping you with chores, telling all about some new show he’d binged over the weekend of some new movie he snuck off to see.

It was … so quiet now. The silence lived in your ears, so pronounced it served as its own sound. After a few days, you felt well enough to at least clean up what you had destroyed. After the chaos you had caused all that remained was a trashed apartment and uncomfortable tranquility.

The process of cleaning bestowed on you a new ache to refresh the others; usually at times like this. Cleaning day, at any normal time in your life —

“And then he picked up the bad guy’s gun,” Yuji continues, absentmindedly clearing the table of trash, dropping items into the large black trash bag.

“Mhm,” you hum back loving, reaching on your tiptoes to dust behind a picture frame. “Yeah?”

“And he shoots the bad guy and he misses,” Yuji awes from behind you, “only he doesn’t miss — they just make us think he misses because when the camera cuts back he’s —“

“Yuji?” you turn to him, eyebrows raised.

Yuji’s cheeks are reddening. “Heh. Sorry, was I rambling again?”

“It’s okay,” You drop the duster to the floor, peck him on the cheek. “Let’s just finish cleaning this table.”

But of course, he doesn’t stop — Yuji is excited and bubbly, especially when he helps you, and his anecdotes from movies, or shows, or sorcerer life, distract you from the grunt work of cleaning day — or any day.

You were miserably aware of the ringing silence, nestled in the space Yuji’s voice used to live as you cleared the table of plastic cups and empty plates all on your own.

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

The second thing you grew to miss was his kiss.

Yuji had been your first kiss and your lips craved the attention of his.

You were in class, your college professor rambling about some eighteen-hundreds writer while you twiddled your pencil. You bit into your lips hoping to satiate them, but it only worsened your yearning. The classroom began to fall away as memory tugged at your mind.

“(Y/n).”

Yuji’s voice carries your name so tenderly you almost fail to recognize it. You look at him as the first round of fireworks explodes in the summer night’s sky.

“New Year’s Eve, Yu-Yu,” you said, your own soft voice trembling. “Did you make a wish?”

“Wish? Heh, No, but there … is something I wanted to do.”

You part your lips as Yuji eliminates the space between the two of you, inch by cursed inch.

You swallow, letting the moment hang as sparks fly behind Yuji’s head.

“What?” You ask.

But your inquiry dies away as Yuji banishes the final inch.

His lips descend on yours. Soft, warm, sweet. He moves little, tentative, before your arms wrap around his shoulders and invite him closer.

“(Y/n), I —“

You refuse his words, cupping the back of Yuji’s head to re-close the gap between you.

He doesn’t attempt to speak again, pressing you against the railing of the park while his lips caress yours. Fireworks whistle behind you as they combust in the sky, showering down in luculent streams.

His kisses, then and thereafter, are loving, lingering — gentle until they are not; the union of lips dissolves into sloppy angles and reddened lips. Harsh breaths and Yuji bucking into your body, eager for more.

“Miss (Y/n)!”

You jerked. Raised your head.

“I have a hard time believing you’ve not heard your name once these past seven times I’ve called it,” Your professor glared.

No, I haven’t.

“I’m sorry, professor. Repeat the question, please.”

Your hand balled in your fist. You shouldn’t miss him. You shouldn’t miss him.

But you do. And the list of things you’ll miss will only continue to grow.

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

The third thing you grew to miss was his touch.

You shifted on the couch, painfully aware of the lack of Yuji’s presence at your back, snuggling into you from behind, legs intertwined into yours.

“Yuji …” you giggle. “Stop it …”

“What?” Yuji snuggles the back of your neck before finding his way into your crook. “I’m not even …”

Language dies as the two of you collapse into giggles. The tv plays a movie neither of you hold much interest in now that Yuji’s finds his way into your shirt, tickling the sensitive flesh at your sides.

“Yuji!”

“What?” he patterns your neck with kisses, pressing you closer to him with an armlock around your waist. He is so strong and holds you to him as you squirm.

Finally, you give in, cupping his face with your hand, you bring him in for a kiss. He hums into the kiss and reciprocates immediately, pressing into you properly —

A gunshot from a crime show you left on yanked you into reality. You blinked, sunk into the sheets, letting the tv’s artificial light fall over you.

Reality, where the blankets cannot compare to the boy you have lost.

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

But the thing you’d miss the most?

Yuji warms his cock inside of you as you burn red, hot lines into his back with your nails. He stains your perspired forehead with kisses as he empties his seed into you. His hips swerve, providing friction to your exhausted clit. You whine into his shoulder, furrowing your brow as your orgasm takes you.

“Ah — ah …! Yuji …!”

Yuji rocks into you a few more times, crescendoing your climax before hooking a hand underneath your knee and rolling in bed so you are side by side. You bite your lip, grind your clit on his strong thigh before settling, resting your head on his shoulder.

The silence is effortlessly serene and comfortable.

But Yuji breaks the silence. “(Y/n)?”

You smile, looking up at him from your place on his chest. “Yeah?”

“I …” he looks away, blush flourishing on his face. “I really love you alot, you know?”

You match his blush with one of your own as your eyes widen. Yuji overcomes some of his embarrassment to caress your cheek with his hand.

“I …” You trail, placing a hand over the one that currently holds your face. “I love you, too, Yuji.”

Even worn from sex, Yuji manages to perk, light coming to his mocha eyes. He smiles back at you.

“That’s good.”

You kiss his cheek, settling by his side for the night.

Yuji is the only warmth you know and the only light you recognize. You allow him to blanket you, shield you from any cold that exists.

“Thanks for that.”

You leaned against the headboard, a thousand-mile stare burning into the wall opposite to you. The aftermath of your sex slumped horribly in your stomach. Your guest zipped up his pants, reaching for his shirt next.

“Yeah,” You replied, absentminded and silent. “Yeah, sure.”

“Next time, okay?”

Your insides screamed to reject but instead:

“Yeah, okay.”

Your one-night stand left, leaving you thudding your head against the headboard. It hadn’t been bad, even unpleasant, it had been … fine. Cold. Impersonal. Impartial. You had never had fine. Not with Yuji.

Yuji, you grieved.

You turned your head to your phone, your hope of Yuji’s call blown out by its perennial blackness.

You clutched a hand to your heart, hollowed out from longing.

His love came last.

#yuji itadori x reader #jjk fic #yuji fic #yuji itadori x you #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x y/n #yuji x y/n #yuji x you #jjk x reader

93 notes · View notes

shin-meddlesome-hero · 1 year

Text

Mini review: Gundam 0079 Episode 13: Coming Home

When I watched the preview of Gundam 0079 episode 13: “Coming Home” I thought that I had the general idea of what to expect: The young hero would reunite with his mother and experiment again the joys of his sheltered childhood life, he will even be tempted to remain home and stay safe. However, he has a duty to fulfill, so at the end of the episode he would leave his mother in order to continue his heroic quest while promising that he would come back once the world is saved. This type of episodes used to be common on stories depicting a young hero’s journey (off the top of my head I can mention one episode from the Saiyan Saga where Gohan manages to get back home but decides to train with Piccolo before getting to see his mom or that episode from “Remi” where the titular character leaves Mrs. Milligan -who was willing to adopt him- to continue his journey with Mr. Vitalis).

As you can expect, by the time I watched the actual episode, my expectations where upturned. If there’s something I’m starting to learn about “Gundam” is that it uses the narrative of the Hero’s Journey to hint at more bleak aspects of reality. So this particular story isn’t really about the boy who becomes a Man and therefore has to leave his mother’s side. Instead, it’s about a mother who realizes that her child has changed into someone who is able to kill without remorse, while the child doesn’t understand why his mother rejects him for doing what he knows he has to do to ensure his survival and the survival of his peers. At the end, Amuro goes on with his journey not only because it’s his duty but because at that moment, that’s the only place he belongs to. Even if his mother still lives, there’s no longer a home he can return to anymore.

The episode is a poignant story about the death of innocence. Amuro comes back to his childhood home only to find that his house is being ransacked by soldiers. Shortly after, he learns that one of the girls he used to play with when he was little has died, and his hometown is desolated. He gets to find out that his mother is alive and reunites with her only to feel her rejection after he shoots an enemy soldier in order to protect himself and the other refugees. He later goes on to vent his frustration by attacking a nearby enemy base (and presumably killing even more people).

Meanwhile, Kamaria asks why such a sweet child like his son grew up to become someone who has no regards for human life. She wonders if it’s because Amuro was raised by a man (which is preposterous because we all know that women can also raise their children into murderers #feminism /j), of course what this actually means is that she feels terribly guilty for staying on Earth instead of following her family to space, and now she doesn’t know how to face the grim reality of seeing her son turned into someone she can’t recognize anymore.

We as the audience, have seen that Amuro’s not a heartless soldier yet. His transformation has been gradual and it has taken a toll on him that manifests in severe stress and trauma. He knows that he’s killing people and has great trouble to do so when the enemy doesn’t take the form of faceless Zakus and battleships that he can destroy without any conscious remorse. But he’s unable to articulate what’s happening to him, so any chance to communicate with his mother is nullified. Mother and son are unable connect with each other and thus, they can’t be together. Amuro goes back to the only people that may understand him and Kamaria is left alone with her guilt and regret. From then on, Amuro would have to go on wherever his journey takes him even if there’s no hope that he’ll have a normal life ever again. And that’s what happens to everyone that gets involved in war.

Overall this was a great episode offering an excellent character study and a reflection of how war irrevocably changes people and the horror of seeing a loved one turning into the opposite of what once they stood for.

Also this happened to be the Swimsuit Episode for some reason, so there’s that…

#gundam 0079 #mobile suit gundam #amuro ray #kamaria ray #i think they tried to make a similar point at the end of g witch ep 12 #but it was as subtle as Aerial's smash attack #gundamblogging

72 notes · View notes