#and I feel like the tragedy of that would be undercut if i gave him something like future-vision or a magical sword | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lacheri · 3 years

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when you can’t sleep at night // wake me (sequel)

pairing: captain!Levi x cadet!fem bodied reader

content: angst, canonverse, mentions and talks of death/portrayals of death, depictions of violence, blood, overall dark themes, unestablished relationship, fingering, mutual loss of virginities, overstimulation, takes place sometime before the 57th expedition (didn't follow an exact timeline), there is a lot of talks about dying in this, levi asks a lot of intrusive questions, minors DNI.

summary: levi finds he holds an affection to a certain cadet of his. you find that maybe the comfort of your captain can quiet the thoughts plaguing your mind, even if just for one night.

wc: 10.7k

The clouds were so fluffy, so white and pure as you longingly watched them swirl above you. Your entire body was numb, back flat against the dirt with all your limbs stretched out. Your brain felt fuzzy, and for a fleeting moment you were flying in the clouds. You could feel the water vapor skim past your fingertips, the air whooshing against you as you soared. You looked down at the earth beneath your form, all the trees and even the walls looked so tiny from this height. This peaceful daydream was pulled from you with a start, your chest heaving with coughs.

“I’m so sorry!” you heard a voice call out, your line of vision intruded by the hazy form of a person leering over you. “I didn’t mean to hit you like that!”

“‘S okay,” you choked out, the numbness fading into aches all over your body. “I’ve gotten you good a couple of times too, Eren.”

“You know what, on second thought,” Eren’s lips spread into a smirk as he extended a hand down. “Consider this payback for beating my ass all those times in the Training Corps.”

“Good on you for finally landing a hit,” you chuckled, wincing as he hauled you to your feet. “Only took you three years.”

You rocked on your ankles, steadying yourself quickly before your legs gave out on you. Eren had gotten you good, roundhouse kicking you in your chest to lay you out on your ass. His training sessions had begun to pay off, used to the reverse happening when the two of you sparred. Mikasa would look on intently, a small smile on her lips when you’d punch Eren’s smug face with a sharp hook. You and 104th cadets were a friendly, strong group, bonded over the horrors of the titans, especially after what happened in Trost.

“What are you brats doing out here?”

Your heads whipped in the direction of the strong voice, meeting the steely hard set eyes of Levi, your captain and soon to be squad leader. His arms were crossed, and you gulped upon taking notice of how his biceps strained under the grey linen of his button up. You quickly flickered your focus back to his eyes before he caught you eyeing him up.

“Just sparring,” Eren hadn’t released the grip on your hand, nor had he noticed he was still holding onto your palm as he addressed the superior. “Prepping for the mission tomorrow.”

Levi frowned, “And who told you it was okay to do so when I gave you cadets instruction to clean the headquarters from top to bottom?”

You pulled your hand from Eren’s as you responded, “Sorry, Captain Levi. We’ll get on it right away.”

Levi only let out a displeased ‘tch’ as he turned on his heels, walking away without further commentary. Eren shot you an eye roll, and you held back a snicker as the pair of you followed shortly after the ravenette. Maybe the two of you had snuck away to leave the rest of your comrades to attack the former Survey Corps headquarters with dusters and cleaning rags, not wanting to participate in your weekly assigned duties. Eren had been adamant in the cobwebbed hallway on the second floor that he had to practice his hand to hand combat, just in case your squads ran into some problems on tomorrow’s mission. You had eagerly agreed, wanting to be as far away from the unsettled dust that assaulted your nostrils, itching at your allergies.

As the three of you entered the building, Levi abruptly turned to the two of you trailing behind him, you and Eren jumping in fright, “Eren, go to the dining hall, you’re going to wipe down underneath all the tables. As for you, brat, you get the honor of cleaning my room.”

Eren shot you a sympathetic look discreetly, nodding to your captain as he hightailed it to the hall.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, alone now with the captain. He studied you for a brief moment, gesturing with his head for you to follow him. Your feet moved before your mind could will you, and the soft thuds of your footsteps across the wooden planks of the floor was all that was heard. You snuck glances at the man before you, taking notice that his undercut was slightly grown in, his longer hair uncharacteristically out of place. Levi looked disheveled in a way, his tan leather jacket creased.

You opened your mouth to make a comment, but decided against it in the end. You were going to offer your assistance, to help freshen up his fade and to do his laundry, but figured Levi was a grown man who could take care of himself. You had a soft spot for the man, humanity’s strongest soldier. You knew a title like that came with a weight you could not fathom, especially after the horrors you had seen at Trost when the titans broke through the walls. You could remember everything so clearly, almost as if it was happening right now. You had nearly died that day.

Your older age amongst your fellow cadets was not one of gain you found out. After learning about the tragedy of Wall Maria, the wall closest to your village, it inspired you to join the Survey Corps in order to help the world. Humanity was dying, almost completely obliterated. Distant family members had died in Shiganshina that day, and the reality of the titans weighed heavily on you. How could you sit idly by as the world you knew was being destroyed before your very eyes? What would’ve happened had that attack been on your small village instead of the Shiganshina district? How would you have protected your own?

So with those thoughts in mind, you joined the training corps. Your parents had disagreed with broken hearts, knowing the likely fate of your choices. Your mother had insisted that you were of ripe marrying age, and that they had no other children to carry your family name. They begged and pleaded for you to settle down and find a husband, to help humanity in a different way by bearing children. You knew this was just a fantasy, and you knew it would be entirely possible that if you were to follow their wishes, the family you would create would be devoured and destroyed. This was the only way you could help, no matter your age or being in your reproductive prime. You needed to slaughter the titans, one by one until none remained. You kissed your beloved family goodbye the day you left for training, and you frequently sent them letters to let them know you were well and alive. One day, they all were returned back to you as you sat in the barracks, and one of the captains informed you that your village was destroyed, your parents and friends from home all dead.

You thought of them as you sliced through a five meter titan’s nape in Trost, your first kill. The citizens of the district ran stampeding in retreat, and caught up in the heat of it all, you had failed to account for the seven meter barreling behind you. When it’s burning fingers wrapped around your body, you sobbed, preparing to meet your family in the afterlife, whatever that would look like. You could feel the hot spats of drool hit your cheeks as the titan opened its mouth, bearing teeth and a cruel grin, and then suddenly, you were flying, caught in the arms of a savior. You stared in disbelief at the cut off fingers on the graveled stone of the street, to only be brought out of this state as Mikasa held you close and questioned if you were alright.

After the dust settled and the casualties were counted, you could feel a fire blazing deep within you. You never wanted to be vulnerable like that ever again, you wanted to be strong like Mikasa. Then, you met Captain Levi. You didn’t know much about him, but his reputation spoke volumes. You wanted the strength of the Ackermans whom you so deeply admired. You begged Commander Erwin to be assigned to Levi’s squad, and your wish was granted. You had been in the top rankings of your class, and you had a solo kill under your belt, aside from the near fatal clutch of another titan. Most of all, you had survived, a bigger feat than most of your comrades.

“Oi, you done daydreaming?” Levi’s cool voice brought you out of your train of thoughts as you arrived outside a wooden door, presumably his temporary living space.

“Sorry, just thinking,” you mumbled as he opened the door.

“Didn’t think you were capable of that. All the supplies are in the box on my desk, I want this room spotless, I don’t care how long it takes,” your captain grumbled as he made strides to his desk in the center of the room.

The room was fairly large, a double bed pressed against the left wall and the dark wooden desk was littered in paperwork. Half filled bookshelves lined the right wall, some mismatched couches and chairs filled the empty space. Honestly, the space was nearly perfect, even the bed was made. You knew better than to point this out to your superior though, so you had simply nodded and began to sort through the various cleaning supplies.

The scratch of Levi’s pen filled the hour long silence as you worked, dusting every surface and wiping it down with disinfectant spray and an old rag. After sweeping thoroughly, you flickered your eyes to the single window in the entire room, surprised completely as the sun had nearly set. The two of you were probably going to miss dinner, you realized as Levi poked his head up from the pile of papers he was concentrated on, a clear look of distaste on his features.

“This is what you call clean?” he spat, running a hand through his bangs. “Mop the floors, cadet.”

You sighed, feeling the subtle growl of hunger in the pit of your stomach. The mop laid in the left corner by the bedroom door, where you had found the broom. You swapped the two, picking up a bucket on the floor. You filled the wooden container with disinfectant, not seeing any polish in the box Levi had provided. He only rolled his eyes at seeing this, but said nothing. At least the floor would be clean.

Levi had lit a few lamps around the room to provide lighting as the sun dipped lower in the sky, swallowing the room in darkness. The floor was sparkling as you finished the last spot, a feeling of satisfaction filling your chest.

“Better?” you interrupted his concentration. He gazed around the room silently, face blank.

“Much,” Levi finally spoke. “That’ll be all, cadet.”

You smiled, setting the cleaning supplies back to their original locations, “Do you want me to bring you anything? I’m going down to grab dinner.”

Levi’s eyes widened at the question, not expecting your offer, “Some tea would be fine. Don’t fuck it up either, brat.”

You nodded as he dismissed you, and you treaded down the stairwell from the second floor to the kitchens. Some of the other cadets littered the dining hall as you passed, seeing some of your comrades laughing at a table, but you paid them no mind. In the kitchen there was hardly any leftover food from the dinner, scraps of potatoes sat in a large bowl on one of the counterspaces. You sighed, scarfing down whatever was available while you set a rusted kettle to a flame. The water was boiled within minutes, and you poured it over tea leaves in two teacups. You cleaned up your mess, and made your way back to Levi’s room.

You knocked twice on the door, hearing his grunt to signal you to enter. Levi was still positioned in his chair at his desk, head in his hands as he scanned over his documents. You placed his cup down silently, ready to leave the man to his work.

“Why are you here, cadet?” your captain called out as you went to open the door.

You turned your head to look at him, his eyes never leaving the words of his papers, “What do you mean, captain?”

“The Survey Corps,” he clarified, finally making eye contact. “Why?”

“To save humanity, sir?” you didn’t mean to speak as if you were questioning him, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He scoffed, setting his paperwork aside, “Humanity, huh? You’re a bit too old to be in the graduating class you’re currently in. Why join now?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused,” your body was facing his entirely now. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he more so mumbled to himself. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be pregnant with your first born, with a husband. Instead, you’re here, trying to fight titans.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” your voice was laced with controlled anger. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Levi continued, ignoring your question. “You could’ve picked the easy way.”

“It would’ve been in vain. My village was wiped out shortly after Wall Maria fell.”

He hummed, his hands coming down to rest on the wooden notches of his desk, papers forgotten, “You were in the top ranks. You could’ve joined the military police.”

“And hear how my comrades died instead of helping them?” you gawked.

“It’s a lot better than watching.”

You shut your mouth then, lips pressing tightly together. You didn’t understand why your captain was questioning you like this.

“I see the way you are with them,” his tone softened, not looking you in the eyes as he spoke. “How you all are.”

“Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’ll forget the purpose of the scouts,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. “I have my own ass to account for.”

Levi pushed off his chair suddenly, scraping the just mopped floor and jolting up to his legs, “You have no idea what it’s like out there. Your friends are going to die, cadet. There’ll be nothing you can do to save them. Are you prepared for that? Collecting their bodies, or whatever’s left of them to take home to their families?”

Your mouth went dry, jaw slacking, “Captain, I know what loss feels like. My family is dead, some of my so called ‘friends’ died in Trost. I know what I signed up for.”

He scoffed, circling around his desk to stand a few feet away from you, “Haven’t you seen enough?”

“Are you trying to get me to quit the Survey Corps?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes. You don’t belong here,” his tone was rough as he spat at you. “Go find a husband. Get the fuck out of the military.”

“I don’t want to,” your anger simmered as you stared down at your boots. “I don’t have a home to go back to. I can’t leave. I know the other cadets aren’t my friends. I’m just trying to make the best out of my life before I die. I know I’m going to die. What’s so wrong about trying to find comfort in others?”

“You are a fool,” he seethed, teeth clenched. “You want to die?”

You shook your head, not bothering to keep the conversation going, “I’m going to bed, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow for the mission.”

“I didn’t dismiss you, cadet,” Levi towered over you now as your hand wrapped around the doorknob.

You brought your fist up to your chest in a salute as you began to exit, “With absolutely no disrespect, I’m exhausted. Have a good night, Captain.”

You pushed the door shut in front of you as you stood in the hallway. You knew you would be getting an ear full from Levi in the morning, but honestly, the conversation was beginning to stir up feelings you’d rather not address. Intrusive thoughts filled your mind as you made your way to the first floor where your temporary bedroom resided.

You couldn’t answer Levi’s question because in a way, in a very selfish train of thought, you didn’t want to be a part of the titan’s world anymore, whether that meant death or something else. How easy it would be for you to greedily pack your things and leave the military and take refuge in some random village to live out the rest of your days, however long they would be. Or to just simply become fodder for the titans in your quest to rid the world of their reign.

Your uniform was folded on your bedside table, a cotton shirt and shorts on your body as you sat on your bed over the covers. You could hear the soft snores of Christa as she slumbered peacefully in the bed across the room, and you gazed over her body under her covers. You knew the people you trained with, fought with, grew fond of, were not your friends. How could they be? It’d only make things harder in the end. Like Levi had said, you might be the one collecting their deceased bodies after a battle. How could you ever grow close to someone that you knew their days were numbered?

The 104th cadets were your comrades, not your makeshift family. You had to remind yourself of that every time Sasha would ask for your leftovers, batting her big eyes at you. When Eren would spar with you, telling you how strong you were and commending you on how far you had come since the first day of the Training Corps. How Mikasa literally saved your life, and how you had admired her ever since. Armin’s unmatched potential and growth. Jean’s relentless taunting, giving you the nickname of gram because of your age. Connie, well frankly, just being Connie. Reiner and Bertholdt’s strong will and passion. Annie’s unwavering willpower and prowess. All the other cadets who you’d gotten to know so well, you had to constantly imagine their corpses as they smiled at you and tried to get to know you. So, you stayed back, opting to be alone at any opportunity, so their deaths would be easier to swallow when the time came.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head to try and rid yourself of your thoughts. It was of no use, and with a sigh you pushed yourself out of your bed. You deemed it would be yet again another sleepless night, and you realized sadly you had left your tea cup in Levi’s office completely untouched. You didn’t bother to entertain the thought of going back to retrieve it, instead you slinked through your bedroom door and out of the headquarters.

The night air was chilly, and you felt regret for not grabbing your jacket on your way out. The moon was gone, a completely black night, and you could see the stars crystal clear. The sky was your favorite sight, especially on nights like this.

You found a nice patch of soft grass, and laid on your back to gaze up at the sky. This was always your comfort, even as a child, to go outside and watch the sky, day or night. Your mother would warn you that your eyes would fall out of your head if you stared too long at the sun, at the moon. You didn’t care, because in those moments you felt so free. Free of the walls that caged you inside, of the world around you. You were the clouds, the stars, the wind as it rolled past. Maybe you were never meant to be human, you mused. You were meant to be nature, never to experience the trials and tribulations of sentinel living. You were supposed to be free, all knowing and ignorant at the same time, existing without the weight of consciousness.

“Thought you were going to bed, cadet?”

You were startled by the boom of a familiar voice behind you, collecting yourself and clearing your throat, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Levi’s head bobbed into your field of vision, “Thought too hard today?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling guilty as you caught the action afterwards and hoped your captain wouldn’t find it as a disrespect, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why are you out here of all places, without a jacket?” out of the corner of your eye you watched as Levi brought himself down to sit next to you.

“I like watching the sky,” you put simply, trying not to make eye contact. “Makes me feel better.”

“About dying?” he said, and you knew that he wouldn’t let your previous conversation go. You decided to humor him, if only to get these thoughts out of your mind.

“Yes.”

“Like what?” he almost sounded uninterested, but from his line of questioning you knew he was anything but.

“I don’t want to die,” you admitted, digging your fingernails into the grass by your waist. “I don’t want to watch anyone die. I never wanted to join the military. I felt like I had no choice.”

“We always have a choice,” he leaned his back to see whatever had your attention draw above you.

“Either fight the titans or get eaten alive when they attack the walls?” you snorted. “What a hard decision to make.”

“Why’d you join the Survey Corps?” he asked once again.

“I didn’t want my family’s death to be in vain. I had cousins, aunts and uncles in Shiganshina.”

“What about your death?”

“I hope it’ll mean something,” you breathed, feeling your chest get tight. “I hope this all will mean something.”

Levi looked at you then, a glimmer of something you couldn’t identify in his eyes, “You sound like Erwin when you talk like that.”

You made eye contact, a small smile on your lips, “The Commander’s an amazing man. I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Levi scoffed, “Take it as you will.”

“What else could I do? I’m trying so hard to make a difference, to make life easier for others so they don’t have to suffer this fate. Isn’t that why we all joined the Survey Corps?” you continued your train of thought. “Maybe we all have a death wish. Fuck, I know I have one. It all just fucking hurts, Captain. I can’t help but think of others all the time, of all the loss and the grief they've gone through, what I’ve been through. At what will keep happening until all the titans are gone for good.”

“Why the sky?” he changed the subject, seemingly bored of your repetitive narrative.

“Because there’s no titans up there,” you joked without humor. “There’s no walls, no boundaries, no rules. It’s never ending. Where are the stars? How does day and night occur? Where does the moon go when the sun’s out? It amazes me, that’s all. Makes me think of how big the world is, of what’s out there besides this.”

“You think too much for a brainless brat,” Levi grumbled, laying on his back and joining you.

“I know,” you chuckled, turning your body to face him. “Wish I could turn off all my thoughts, it would probably make life a whole lot more livable.”

He hummed, eyes drawn in to your face, “I understand. What you said earlier, too, about finding comfort in others.”

“What do you mean?” you propped your head on your hand and you positioned your elbow to support you.

“I guess I never thought about it before tonight,” he blinked, expression unreadable. “Life as a soldier isn’t a comforting one. I guess that’s what I was trying to tell you about.”

You read between the lines of his words, recognizing it as his form of an apology, “I know. But it’s still the life I chose. At least I’m trying to make a difference, we all are.”

“Y’know, I’ve been paying attention to you for some time now. I didn’t understand when Erwin came to me and told me you had asked to be put on my squad. I took a look in your file, and I saw you after the attack on Trost, and I still didn’t understand,” Levi spoke slowly. “I don’t think I get you at all, even now.”

“I don’t think I understand myself,” you laughed dryly, returning your attention to the sky.

“You should get some sleep, cadet,” he advised softly, pushing himself off the ground. “And for fuck’s sake do it soon, I won’t be taking care of your ass if you get a cold.”

Levi stalked off before you could utter a response. You sighed, and decided his words were wise enough to follow. A few moments after your captain had left you, you followed his pathway back to the entrance of the former headquarters. You entered, making a hasty retreat back to your room where Christa was still knocked out cold.

Under your covers, you replayed your conversations with Levi. You still couldn’t figure out why he had questioned you like he had, why he even cared in the first place. Maybe it was his own gnawing curiosity, trying to understand why some random twenty-something year old girl insisted on being in his squad like you had. Maybe, you thought egotistically, you had your own reputation. You inwardly snorted, probably not.

Images of your captain under the moonlight played beneath your eyelids as you finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The mission had gone horribly wrong. At least for you, to be honest you had no idea where the rest of your comrades were as you raced on your horse, desperately searching the sky for flares. You hadn’t seen a single one in a while now, at least ten minutes, and your heart was thudding hard as thoughts that the entire fleet of soldiers you had joined had been decimated. You were completely alone, the walls distant behind you. All you knew is that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn around or else you’d really be lost.

The 104th had stayed behind at the former headquarters, this having been a smaller expedition to clear out some titans before the planned 57th expedition in a few weeks. Levi, Oluo, Petra, and Gunther, as well as a few other squads accompanying you, were in a near perfect formation when an abnormal titan had broken through, killing a few unnamed soldiers at your side that you had never met before today.

In the far left distance, you could see a large forest full of trees. Your jaw slacked open, relief running through your veins when you caught sight of some men on horses heading that direction. Green flares shot up high in the sky, and you pulled the reins of your mare to follow. Your plan was brought to a screeching halt though, as you heard the thunderous footsteps shake your horse, and your body. You threw a glance behind your shoulder, a ten meter titan running straight towards you. You reached to your side quickly, shooting a red flare above you to warn any close by comrades.

The titan was gaining speed, about a dozen yards now behind you. You really wanted to avoid confrontation was much as possible, but as those yards closed between you and the titan, you growled and prepared yourself. You gave your horse a soft pat on her neck, and heaved yourself to stand on the saddle. You gaged your surroundings, seeing complete flat plains all around you, not an ideal situation for fighting at all.

Your odm gear shot you straight to the titan’s legs, a plan instilled in your head on the best way to take it down. It was fairly thin and muscular, but you decided it was just a plain titan as it dumbly stared at you with its wicked grin. Your dual blades locked in your hands now, you swung behind the titan and sliced through its ankles. The ten meter fell swiftly, giving you the perfect opportunity to land on its nape and kill it. It stilled completely beneath you after your swift cuts, and you ran as fast as your body willed you to rejoin your mare.

You placed your fingers to your lips, whistling as loud as you could. Your horse, at least 100 feet away, perked its ears and turned at a rapid speed straight back to you. She neighed as she reached your form, and you hauled yourself back on her saddle, kicking your legs for her to break into a full gallop to where the green flares still lingered in the air.

You didn’t bother to signal another flare in the air, seeing no other flares around you. As you neared closer to the forest, you felt incredibly relieved at the sight of your squad, now able to make out their faces. Petra waved her hands high in the air, about 20 feet away now. You saw Oluo, Gunther, and Levi, unharmed, as you got closer, bringing your horse down to a slightly slower gait, seeing no titans around.

“Are you okay?” Petra shouted at you once you reached the group. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay!” you spoke as fast as you could. “The other cadets I was with were killed by an abnormal, I got split up from them.”

“What was that red flare?” Oluo questioned, worry riddled in his eyes.

“It’s fine, I killed it,” you breathed shakily. “Where are the others?”

“Retreating back to the walls,” Levi answered, voice hard and commanding. “We’re out of blades, and there've been too many casualties. The others have the deceased’s bodies.”

You and your squad nodded, and with no further delay, you broke your horses into a full sprint back to the walls. The sun hung low in the sky, sunset merely a few hours away. Now in a formation in the clear open plains, you noticed out of the corner of your eye some movement.

“Abnormal titan to the right!” you screamed, turning your head to watch the titan’s arms flail, running in an irregular pattern.

“Holy fuck,” Gunther’s eyes widened in horror, shooting a black flare into the sky. “That’s got to be a 15 meter!”

“Don’t engage!” Levi barked, eyes trained straight ahead at the walls. “Keep an eye on it!”

“Sir!” the four of you quipped.

It seemed the abnormal titan had other plans as it caught sight of the five of you, its pace changing with intentions.

“It’s heading straight towards us!” Petra called out, flickering her eyes between the running titan and your captain. “Orders, Captain?”

Levi kept silent, much to your horrors. It was only a few yards away now, speed not slowing. Levi’s attention was completely ahead, the walls almost in full view. You were so close, not close enough though and the abnormal titan’s legs moved faster.

“Captain Levi!” Oluo shouted, eyebrows shot into his hairline.

The titan was less than three yards away when Levi finally spoke, “Petra, Oluo, make it fast!”

You shot off your horse before Levi’s lips opened, his commands unheard by you. Your odm ropes attached right into the titan’s ankles, just like how you had done before. There’s a reason they called it an abnormal titan though you discovered as its fingers closed around the wiring of your gear, yanking the ropes out of its skin and hauling your body up.

You squirmed, mashing your buttons desperately to get your hooks out of its fist as you were brought to the titan’s mouth. It was an ugly son of a bitch, teeth on full display in its evil smile. You couldn’t believe how badly you had fucked up again, the titan’s other hand gaining momentum as it lifted to wrap its disgusting meaty fingers around you. You watched as the fingers were sliced off before they could reach you, and suddenly you were free falling as the hand holding your odm ropes fell from its arm. You redirected yourself back to its ankles, back to your original plan of taking out the nerves to allow the titan to fall, your nerves entirely shot, your adrenaline in full control.

Levi had both his swords drawn as he met you at the back of the 15 meter’s legs, “Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed? You should’ve let the others handle it!”

“I thought I had it, Captain!” you curtly shouted, cutting through the tendons and getting sprayed with steaming blood. The titan did not falter though, but thankfully you and Levi had created a useful diversion as Petra, and Oluo took out the titan’s nape. You and your group shot back to your horses as the titan fell from its height, dead on impact.

The opening of the gate of Wall Rose was a fucking blessing, and your squad couldn’t have ran through it any faster. You heard the roaring of the gate as it closed behind you, and you were choking on shallow breaths as you slowed your mare’s gait.

None of you spoke a single word as you returned to the former headquarters, exhausted after the adrenaline of your mission wore off. You returned your horses to the stables, where feed and water awaited them. Your squad practically ran off, and you were confused until you saw the pissed off look of your superior aimed directly at you. Gulping down spit, you turned on your heel, ready to take off.

Levi’s arm shot out around your bicep, harshly tugging you to stop your escape, “Are you a fucking idiot, cadet? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I thought I could take out the titan by its ankles!” you defended quickly, gritting your teeth as his fingers dug into your clothed arm. “It’s how I took out the other titan I killed, Captain!”

“You better learn quickly that all titans are not the same! Or did you not learn that in training?” Levi growled out between clenched teeth.

“I thought I could take it out,” you grumbled, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You betrayed my orders. You listen to me and my commands, cadet,” he spat out, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes burning holes into yours. “Remember your place.”

You pivoted yourself away from your captain, trotting ahead to head inside the headquarters, voice laced with malice as you grumbled, “I’ll do as I see fit.”

This would be the second time Levi hadn’t dismissed you before leaving him behind, you realized as you arrived at the communal bathroom. You sighed heavily, leaning back against the closed door, completely alone. Thankfully, it was very late in the evening, and if your comrades weren’t in bed already, they would be heading to sleep soon. You were so relieved to get some much needed alone time, especially now that you had such a terrible day.

You changed out of your blood soaked uniform, not bothering to fold it as you laid the clothes on the floor. Stark naked, you began to fill the bathtub basin with running water, a very rare luxury due to the previous care when the headquarters was up and running. With the porcelain half filled, the water steaming, you sunk your aching body into the scalding bath. The water turned a deep pink as you scrubbed your skin with a rag that had been resting over the rim. You untied your hair and dipped your head back, threading your fingers through your knots after generously coating the strands with soap. You drained the dirty water, refilling it back up now that most of the dirt and blood had been washed away. The tub held a pastel pink hue now, but you felt much cleaner and you sunk back in the tub, stretching out as much as you could.

You didn’t dare close your eyes for too long, picturing the events of today. You didn’t try to reflect on the lives that had been lost on today’s mission, the strangers you never had the pleasure, or perhaps displeasure, of getting to know. It made it easier in a sense to forget, to keep pushing forward. Still, the gore and the cruelty of what being a part of the scouts was truly about haunted the corners of your mind as you absentmindedly rubbed soap along your limbs. Maybe you were trying to wash away these memories, too.

Half an hour later, you decided it was time to dry off and get into comfortable clothing as the water cooled and your skin had pruned. You unplugged the drain, standing and reaching for a towel. Wrapping the fabric around your chest, you stepped out of the tub, feet leaving wet prints on the floor as you treaded to your bedroom, soiled clothes in hand.

An oversized white long sleeve hung off your frame, accompanied by your favorite cotton shorts as you sat on your bed, completely alone. Christa had briefly mentioned before your mission this morning that she’d be spending the night with Ymir, to which you were inwardly grateful for the promise of solidarity. As you sat hunched over, you found yourself longing for the comforting presence of someone, anyone, to distract you from the images that plagued your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

You jerked with a start as you pictured the angry face of your captain, feeling immense guilt pool in your gut. You had never spoken so much with Levi before yesterday, realizing the weight of your words and actions, reckless and undermining his authority. Maybe you owed him an apology, for if nothing else to at least calm your mind enough for sleep.

You didn’t remember the walk when you had arrived outside the captain’s door, or could recall if you had knocked before it swung open, revealing Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, nervously tugging at your sleeves as you avoided eye contact. “I’ve been disrespectful, Captain, and I’m sorry.”

“Cadet,” his teeth clenched tightly. “Do you understand what time it is?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whimpered, legs ready for a moment's notice of a retreat. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave—“

Levi’s hand shot out to circle your wrist, and you finally looked up into his charcoal eyes, “Don’t, come in.”

You couldn’t protest as you guided you into his room, shutting the door behind you after you passed the entry. Levi was dressed casually, beige cotton shirt hanging off his torso, plain grey pants on his lower half. The bags under his eyes told you he had also not been able to fall asleep. He led you to sit on his neatly made bed, towering over you with his arms tightly crossed.

“I was on my way to check on you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

“You didn’t knock,” Levi clarified, looking anywhere but at you. “I was already at the door. You’d seen a lot today. I don’t need my soldiers having breakdowns after every mission.”

He was worried about you, your breath halted in your throat.

“Oh,” you dumbly said.

“Seems like you did me a favor by coming here,” he mused, sighing as he ran a hand through his bangs. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Thinking, again, about everything,” you crossed your thighs, body language signally how uncomfortable you were upon talking about these feelings.

“Your brain is going to cause you more grief if you don’t stop,” Levi’s spare hand grasped your chin gently, bringing your head up so you could look him in the eyes. “Why do you insist on being alone with these thoughts?”

“Captain, weren’t you just saying it’s a bad idea to have friends?” you could feel the pounding of your heart in your chest at his gesture, unsure of his intentions.

“Weren't you just talking about finding comfort in others?” Levi leaned down, you felt his breath against your lips as he spoke. “I’ve been paying attention to you for awhile, cadet.”

“You looked in my file, you told me already,” you whispered, unsure that if you spoke at full volume your voice wouldn’t quiver.

“No, I’ve been watching you. You’re not exactly quiet when you sneak out at night, y’know. I’ve seen you,” he hesitated briefly before continuing. “I’ve watched you cry all alone, how you try to distance yourself from the others. I was testing you yesterday, brat. I think I understand now, though.”

Your captain crouched down to meet you at eye level, fingertips never straying from your chin, and you felt your lip quiver as he rasped, “I understand, because I get it. You’ve always felt alone, haven't you?”

You nodded, scared to voice the truth, he continued, “I’m not going to explain myself to you, and if I hear a single word spoken about any of our conversations, I will personally sign your extermination paperwork. You’re different, you’re not like the others. You know what grief is, what pain and loss feels like. Your mission, your goals, it keeps driving you forward. Who couldn’t notice that?”

Levi scoffed, and you managed out a tiny, “Captain Levi.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you telling me this?” you could feel the harsh prick of tears try to escape your eyes, blinking furiously to not allow them to fall.

“Because,” he brushed back your hair behind your ear with his spare hand. “We’re exactly the same, and I can’t allow you to continue living like this, knowing where you’ll end up. Are you a virgin, cadet?”

“Yes,” you stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I am too,” Levi confessed, his eyes baring his soul. “I’m in my thirties, and I’ve never taken a woman to bed. All because of my mission.”

“My parents raised me to save myself for marriage,” your lips hung open. “But, they’re dead now, and I’ll probably never be married.”

“Cadet?” Levi’s hand came up from your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. “You talk about choices, you told me about how you never followed the path set for you. Why don’t you allow yourself some peace, some comfort? If not for yourself, for others, for your fellow comrades?”

“Are you asking to fuck me, sir?” your body felt heavy, uncomfortably numb but you couldn’t will yourself to move an inch, your mind was frazzled.

“I’m asking for permission to comfort you, both of us. I’m tired of being alone, aren’t you?” his face had fallen completely, and you were in awe of how open and raw Levi was.

You didn’t answer him, instead pushing his hands off of your face to capture his cheeks in your own hands, forcing your lips together. Fuck the world, fuck the titans, fuck every single thing that dared to bother you and your existence. You were tired, tired of denying yourself pleasures and comfort and basic human interaction. Who cared if you all died? Would it be for naught that you had never gotten to know your comrades? What would be the point in dying for your military if you didn’t have a motivation, a passion driving you? You were so fucking lonely, and Levi was too as he crashed his lips against yours, wrapping his long arms around your back to hold you closer.

You felt the older ravenette pull away for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head to reveal his scarred and muscular chest. You ran your fingers over his middle slowly, taking in every dip and every flex of his body. Levi was beautiful, and you felt honored that you were here in this moment, with a man who had heard more of your thoughts and feelings than any person before. He stopped your hands as they came to his pecks, pushing your arms high to remove your own shirt.

Your nipples hardened meeting the cold air, exposed now in the dim candle light. You didn’t dare cover yourself, nor did Levi let you get the chance. His hands were all over your chest within an instant, caressing and groping as his lips met yours once again. You hadn’t bothered to tell Levi that he was your first kiss, the first man to see you naked, the first man who had shown genuine interest in you and your body. Maybe you’d tell him later, but for now, you just wanted to quell the thoughts swarming your mind.

You stood quickly, maneuvering your lips to the side of his exposed neck. Your kisses were sweet, innocent and pure as Levi began to pull your shorts off, your panties accompanying the fabric. You kicked out of them as Levi grabbed the back of your head, groaning as he slammed your mouths together once more in an open kiss.

Your hands were everywhere on his skin, trying desperately to remember every single detail, knowing that this would most likely be a one time thing. You knew the risks of becoming entangled in a romantic relationship in the military, more so the scouts. Levi or you, or anyone, could die at any moment. This only motivated you further in your desire, ripping down his pants, mildly surprised to see your captain not wearing any underpants.

Levi breathily mumbled as he grasped your waist and led you flat on your back atop his bed, “I thought you were dead today.”

“I’m not, and neither are you,” you hushed his spoken thoughts with another passionate kiss. He tasted minty from his tea, smelled of woodsy musk from his obvious earlier shower, his touch so soft as he grazed your body up and down.

You felt his knees between your legs as he loomed over you, pushing apart your thighs at the force. His right hand stroked your cheek as his tongue prodded past your willing lips, swollen from his attention. His left hand ventured south, resting upon the curve of your hip, digging his fingers to feel the supple flesh.

“You’re quite beautiful, y’know,” he mirrored your earlier ministrations, placing sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “One of the reasons I was so fascinated by you, I couldn’t understand how you weren’t married.”

“Maybe in another life,” you simply put, attention drawn to how sinful his lips felt against your flushed skin. He sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, and a whimper left your lips at the contact. You could feel your center slicken, cold air consuming all of your exposed skin. Levi’s hand dared closer and closer to your desire, and you made out the distinguished poke of his manhood against your lower stomach.

When his fingertips nudged against your folds, Levi let out a groan of pleasure, “You’re so wet, cadet. I’ve barely touched you.”

“Captain, I need this,” you begged, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him flush against you. “Please, distract me, make me forget.”

Levi felt no need to answer your pleads, instead allowing his fingers to familiarize himself with your most intimate of parts. His eyes stayed trained on yours, taking in every expression you made, one catching his focus immediately as his pointer finger circled the top of your folds. It felt like a button, and you started moaning desperately as he continued his circling.

“Feels good?” your captain asked, insecurity in the back of his mind.

“Yes,” you took your right hand away from Levi’s neck, grabbing his wrist that was in between your legs, dipping his fingers to your dripping entrance. “Need you here.”

He plunged his pointer and middle fingers in, and your velveteen walls clenched around him. You had pleasured yourself many times just like this, but the heightened pleasure of someone else’s knuckles deep inside you was incredible. No one had ever touched you like this before, looked at you so lovingly and so lustfully. His fingers scissored inside you, and you knew your patience would soon snap.

When Levi’s fingers curled upwards, you thought you were going to pass out. Your eyes screwed shut as loud mewls left your lips, Levi’s free hand covering your mouth. Your hips bucked upwards in his touch, hips rolling fast as your clit caught the fat of his palm. You could feel the familiar bubble of your climax, threatening to spill over as you arched your back.

Levi pulled his fingers from your weeping cunt then, so agonizingly slowly, “No, cadet. Not yet.”

You whined, pressure settling down in your abdomen as Levi took his soaking hand to his hard cock. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t paid attention to his girth before, he was gorgeous. All the hard work and all the violence had sculpted your captain as if he were a statue. His length stood at full attention, pressed against his belly, his balls hanging in the free space between his thick thighs. You moaned at the sight of Levi stroking himself, seeing the glisten of your arousal coat him. He let out a strangled groan, before letting himself go, falling unceremoniously to capture your lips once again.

“You ready?” Levi asked permission, his kiss so sweet and tender, and you realized then the weight of all of this. You were about to lose your virginities to each other, he would forever hold a mark on you.

You smiled, so full of adoration, there wasn’t anyone else you’d rather be with right now as you spoke, “Yes, sir.”

Levi gripped the base of his dick, bumping the engorged head against your sensitive clit and through your folds as he coated himself more in your essence. You both knew this was going to hurt you, and had either of you not been in such a hurry, you’d take the time to mutually pleasure each other until your bodies were truly ready for this intimate act. There were no coherent thoughts in this moment, only pure passion and animalistic desire.

His tip sunk in, and you felt like you were going to be split in half. Your hands shot up to his arms, nails leaving half crescents on his biceps, your ankles hooking together on his ass as you tensed up at the pain.

“Relax,” he kissed your jaw with a groan. “Gonna’ take care of you.”

You nodded, focusing on his words instead of the pain. Your pelvic floor relaxed, and Levi was able to push himself deeper into your cavern.

“There’s no blood?” Levi questioned you curiously as he glanced down to where your bodies met, not moving even a centimeter to allow you to adjust.

The pain was quickly fading as you mumbled, “Probably broke my hymen on a goddamn horse.”

You both let out a breathy laugh, and Levi’s right hand came to stroke your cheek, pushing back your hair out of your face, “I’ll have to kill that horse then.”

You were rattling your brain for a witty response to your captain when Levi shifted, stroking his length backwards as your walls fluttered around him. Your face was no longer scrunched in pain, your eyebrows unfurrowed and your mouth hung open, feeling nothing but pleasure as his left hand shot to your pulsing pussy, thumbing your clit with the lightest of touches.

“Captain,” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” he pushed his forehead to yours, his own eyes closing as he pushed his cock back into your depths, so slowly.

You placed a gentle kiss to his lips for a brief moment, neck craning off the pillow under your head. You felt a cramp as he kissed you back, so gently and so softly. You moved your mouth to his jaw, peppering kisses along any exposed skin you reach.

His right hand stayed positioned to your face, his grey colored orbs opened, focusing on your face. You looked up then, and felt your heart hammering in your chest. Levi was so handsome, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes softened without the weight of reality crashing down on him.

“I’m glad it’s you,” your arms were still wrapped around his neck as you rubbed soft circles along the ridge of his undercut. His hips held such a passionate, steady rhythm as he continued plunging into you.

Levi didn’t respond, his hand angling your face to his again. Although unspoken, you could see in his face that he appreciated your words, his thrusts faster in pace now. You couldn’t stop the moans from exiting your throat, volume increasing as his thumb worked you with more pressure. He swallowed your noises with his lips, not even kissing, the two of you just breathing into one another’s mouth.

Suddenly the distance wasn’t close enough, Levi’s hand left the curve of your cheek to wrap his arm around the middle of your back, forcing your body completely against his sweating one. His lips began to work against yours, sloppy and messy as you kissed the man back with the same fever.

Levi’s pace was solid, deep and without error. Your hips tried desperately to meet his thrusts, his wrist in between your centers blocking you from doing so. Your captain didn’t even so much as warn you to stop, his thumb rolling faster against your now swollen clit, that same heat in your stomach rebuilding rapidly. The two of you were so lost in each other, your arms leaving his neck to wrap around his shoulders and forcing his head down to your neck where he lapped and peppered kisses to conceal his own moans. You did the same, lips attached to the curve where his muscular shoulder met his neck.

His touch was unrelenting, but you felt the unmistakable shutter as he plunged right to your cervix, goosebumps rising on his skin under your fingertips. You let out a muffled moan, your nails clawing at his back, your legs somehow tighter around his backside.

Levi’s thumb rubbed harder, so much faster now than his thrusts. Your pussy was fluttering rapidly now, clenching and unclenching around his girth, you were so close. You had a feeling your captain was as well, his pace increasing even faster.

“I’m cumming,” you pulled away from his shoulder to warn Levi, sucking the sensitive area of his neck.

Levi moaned in pleasure, bucking his hips hard into you, and this was what sent you over the edge. Levi couldn’t move even if he wanted to as your cunt gripped him so tightly, contracting so hard around his length. You could hear a string of curses and ‘ah’s from his lips as your hips bucked wildly into his hand, rubbing your clit along his stilled thumb. You’d had plenty of self given orgasms before, but feeling completely filled as your walls fluttered around something was a pleasure you knew you’d be seeking again.

Your teeth were sunk into his neck, and Levi was finally able to continue his strokes as your orgasm slowed, your body limping. His thumb started once more, and you were whimpering at the overstimulation, your contractions not even done. He was pounding into you now, growling into your neck, you could feel the sharp clench of his jaw dig into your shoulder. It didn’t take you more than a minute to build up another orgasm, and as the new waves of pleasure slammed into you, Levi was pulling out.

You came around nothing as Levi rutted into your stomach, feeling the smear of hot cum rub against your middles. He was bucking desperately, moaning and whimpering. The sounds he made paired with the nonstop movement of his thumb only heightened your pleasure, your left hand coming to caress the back of his head.

He removed his touch from you, taking his dripping hand to your waist as his thrusts against your stomach slowed. It crawled under your back to meet his other arm, and he placed sensual, slow kisses to your neck. You did the same, thanking him non verbally. His head lifted, eyes half lidded as he placed his lips to yours, locking them in a saccharine embrace. He pulled away after a few moments, sliding off of your sticky body and out of the bed. Your arms fell to your sides, and he slipped his pants on, avoiding the area of his lower stomach where his cum was drying quickly. He rushed to his dresser, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping himself down quickly, returning back to your body to clean your middle as well.

“You’ll probably need to shower,” Levi broke the silence as he pulled the rag away, his empty hand roaming the curve of your side.

“Probably,” you mumbled in bliss, enjoying his light touch. “I’ll get up in just a minute.”

“You could stay,” Levi offered awkwardly, halting his movements.

“It’s okay, I think I want to be alone,” you smiled, your brain foggy. “Also don’t need rumors to start up if anyone sees me leaving your room in the morning.”

Levi only hummed as you pulled your naked body to a full stand, reaching for your discarded clothes. You pulled your long sleeve over your head first, the edges brushing against the tops of your thighs, stepping into your panties and shorts quickly. The silence was almost overwhelming, neither of you sure of what exactly to say.

“Captain Levi,” you finally spoke, ready to depart. “Thank you.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your body to his with no real force, kissing you passionately. You kissed him back hungrily, and had you been more experienced, you would’ve felt the flicker of sparks deep within your stomach, a signal of unconscious feelings sprouting within you.

You pulled away from him, a smile playing at your lips as he spoke raspily, “You know where to go if you don’t want to be alone.”

You threaded your fingers through his open palm, bringing his knuckles to your lips as you placed a soft peck to the back of his hand, “I will, Captain. Goodnight.”

The heat of the sun beat harshly on your back, your body in a full ache as you dodged a punch from Eren. You went to lift your leg into a kick, a yelp leaving your lips at the feeling that you were going to rip in half, and quickly shifted your hips to plan a new attack. Thankfully, your fake out worked, seeing Eren prepare himself for your leg, not for your first to go flying into his gut.

With a loud groan of pain, Eren laid flat on his back in the dirt. Your chests heaved, sweat dripping down your skin, and you extended your palm to the younger boy. You had won this spar, and Eren huffed as he smacked his hand away playfully.

“I had you last time! I can’t believe I lost again!” he complained, eyebrows furrowed as he screwed his eyes shut in a fit.

You laughed then, crossing your arms over your chest, “You got lucky, Jaeger.”

Around the two of you, all the cadets were still in their own sparring matches. Even in your weary state, you had been the first match finished, and you feel a swell of pride. You were getting stronger, more fit to survive the harsh reality of this world.

“Cadets,” Captain Levi made himself known then, stepping forward from the row of squad leaders, unbeknownst to you and Eren he had been watching with a trained eye the entire fight.

“Captain!” you saluted, Eren lazily following along silently.

Levi’s eyes lingered over you for a minute, before shifting his attention to Eren before scoffing, “Pathetic, Jaeger. You need to work on your form.”

You tried desperately to hide a smirk, eyes lit up in amusement as Eren frowned deeply, sighing, trying not to lash out on your superior. Levi continued, “Cadet, good job.”

“Thank you, Captain,” you smiled brightly, now trying to conceal the oncoming heat of your blush flaming up your neck, licking the tips of your ears.

“However, never let your guard down after you think you’ve won.”

The sound of your skull cracking into the ground beneath you sent your vision in a dizzy frenzy. Levi hovered over you, and you could make out the lingering feeling of his boot hitting your stomach, causing you to lay flat on your back. The sun was high in the sky today, not a single cloud in view or whisk of wind felt.

“Ow,” you heaved, bringing yourself into a seated position, hunched over. “What was that for?”

“You can’t always predict what a titan’s next move is going to be,” Levi cooly explained, crouching down to meet your eye level. “This is how you fucked up, both times, with an abnormal. You have to pay attention. You can’t let yourself get caught up in a victory. Understood, brat?”

You nodded, feeling your ears grow hot as multiple sets of eyes watched on in curiosity, “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you in my office after dinner for your punishment,” his eyes twinkled, a hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Cockiness is not befitting for a brat like you.”

You groaned, biting your tongue to hold back words you knew would come across as disrespectful. You didn’t see what you did to deserve a punishment, but you huffed as Levi strolled away, yelling at Eren about something. Probably about his smirk when he watched you fall on your ass.

Turns out your punishment was anything but, instead a much rougher fucking left your body nearly in shambles. This became a routine, instead of traveling outside to stare at the stars and lose yourself in your thoughts, Levi’s body became your comfort, your relief. He felt the same, pouring his loneliness into your willing body as he claimed you night after night, week after week.

He’d tell you sometimes in the afterglow of your orgasms that this was strengthening the squad, this was for the betterment of the scouts. Because what better way was there to build trust? You’d listen half heartedly, knowing this was all an excuse to rationalize why you continued seeking each other’s comfort.

Levi was soon fiercely protective of you, and you unconsciously him. This was reinforced after the 57th expedition failed horribly, the faces of your deceased squad members haunting your dreams every night. Levi would hold you as you sobbed through the nightmares. It hurt, so fucking much. Levi would whisper to you that you just had to keep moving forward. You would nod your head and listen. Your captain knew best, and you were finding it harder every passing day to pretend that he didn’t.

You didn’t try to make sense of your relationship, just letting it exist. Some days you’d push him away, others you’d pull the ravenette closer to your body. Caught between wanting to leave the man you’d realized you’d fallen in love with, or go into hiding away from the military with Levi and marry the son of a bitch. You liked to think he felt the same, his words few, but his acts spoke volumes of his feelings.

And when you laid limp on the battlefield, titan corpses steaming around you, your breaths shallow as your tired body began to prepare to shut down, you smiled. Everything all at once came flooding to you as you stared up at the sky, completely alone.

You blinked at the clouds, painted so pretty in pinks and oranges at the setting sun. You could hear your name being screamed somewhere in the distance, the voice vaguely familiar. You felt relief wash over you as the large open wound on your stomach gushed an unbelievable amount of blood. Full of shock, your adrenaline keeping your pain at bay, you thought humorously that you had no idea you had that much blood running through your body.

Raven hair and charcoal eyes entered your hazy vision, and you kept that smile on your face. Your fingers reached up, reaching Levi’s soaking cheek, not being able to tell if it was because of blood, or tears. You smoothed your thumb under his eye, and you were being lifted. You couldn’t hear his words, only the dullness of sound as the world continued to slow around you.

You stared at the clouds, completely at peace. You had conquered your biggest fear, growing close to another, just to lose them. Images of Levi flashes before your eyes, his stoic expression, his commanding leadership, his sensual caresses, his passionate kisses as he poured all of his feelings out for you. You loved him, you realized. You were so happy that you got to experience this in this lifetime.

The colors of the sky blurred together, and you could feel the wind whisk around you as Levi shot off on his odm gear. You were finally flying in the clouds.

#tw: blood #tw: death #tw: talk of death #tw: dying #tw: violence #tw: angst #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi fanfiction #levi #levi ackerman #tw: dark themes

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

care less, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, implied taehyung x reader

summary: There are countless partings in this world. People come in and out of your life, impacts large and small. But there is one where you could care less. You really could. And that’s Min Yoongi, your high school ex-boyfriend, the one who took something from you and promptly disappeared, only to come back with a furious declaration, on the night you’re supposed to teach Kim Taehyung how to eat pussy.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; mentions of slut shaming; reader is pansexual; rough angsty smut (fem reader, slight dom/sub themes, m-receiving oral, overstimulation, hair-pulling, cowgirl); regrets everywhere; non-idol!AU; exes-to-lovers; pianist, softsub!Yoongi

inspired by “I get mad when I see you, and even madder when I don't”, wet-haired Yoongi in Run BTS! 131, ONEWE’s song ‘소행성 (Parting)’, and you’re probably wondering how these things go together.

–

"How do you eat a girl out?"

"I... what?"

"How," Kim Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable with his impossibly deep voice. "Do you eat a girl out?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Taehyung raised his eyebrows. "Because you've hooked up with tons of girls. You must have eaten out at least one of them." You blinked at him as he continued. "I figure you have a unique perspective because you're a girl whose probably been eaten out and whose eaten out other girls."

You put down your spicy chicken. "Is this why you offered to buy me lunch?"

Taehyung's giant brown eyes shifted around uncomfortably. "Look," he said in a hushed tone. "I took this girl on a nice date and then it got to the spicy bit–"

"Leading her on, yes, yes, continue."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you but ignored your comment, barreling on. "And she asked me to eat her out, but I didn't know what I was doing."

"An absolute tragedy for sex god Kim Taehyung," you mocked. He growled and threw one of his chicken bones in your direction as you laughed.

"Oi, this is serious!"

You kept cracking up, taking a bite of spicy crispy meat. "Yes, seriously funny." He kept glaring at you, so you relented a little. "She didn't ask for the dick like everyone else?"

Taehyung pouted. "Well, she did, after I spent twenty minutes doing what she called, basically nothing," he scowled.

You shrugged. "Then you redeemed yourself, so what's the problem?"

Taehyung crouched over the table, stabbing your plastic tray. "The problem is, she's gonna tell other girls I can't eat pussy."

"Nah, she won't," you chewed, relishing the spiciness of the chicken. "She'll be too busy daydreaming about your giant dick."

Taehyung frowned, obviously not believing you. You casually are another piece of chicken, watching him contemplating. He was wearing cream slacks and a beige sweater, casually handsome with his dark brown hair, long enough to curl around his eyebrows. His fried chicken was already demolished into bones. He always got his not spicy.

You never understood that.

"Why didn't you ask me to eat you out?"

You shrugged. "We were only hooking up. I wanted to sit on your dick like everyone else."

"Teach me."

Your fingers were turning bright red with the crispy breading on the meat. You could feel the tingle of the spice on your puffy lips and throat, a measured fire burning. You didn’t bother to reach for your drink. Better to lull in the fire for a bit.

"Taehyung, it's just practice."

"Then let me practice on you."

You sucked out a bit of chicken from your teeth as you gave him a disbelieving look. "Thought your policy was to never fuck twice?"

He shrugged. "Not technically a fuck? Besides, you're the Sex Teacher," he added with a snicker.

You rolled your eyes. "Ugh, don't call me that. Some dudes started calling me that just because I took some guy's virginity."

"You've probably taken several virginities with your track record."

"Speak for yourself."

"Do you or do you not know how to eat a girl out?" Taehyung asked, brown eyes boring into you.

You picked up the toothpick the restaurant had provided you and stuck it between your teeth. Brushed the crumbs off your flannel dress and picked up your tray, standing up.

"'Course I do."

Thus, you were now in your apartment with Kim Taehyung, several days later, wondering why you agreed to this nonsense.

"Do I just whip off your pants or what?"

You rolled your eyes, keeping a firm grip on your gray sweatpants. He had arrived in a long black coat and brown turtleneck, black billowy slacks. Kicked his shoes off and presented you with said question.

"What do I get out of this?" you grumbled, turning around and heading into your apartment, shivering a little because of your loose white t-shirt that you had cut in half ages ago, turning it into a crop top. It had a stain at the bottom, so what better way to fix it than chop it off? Still, you should have opened the front door with your hoodie on, but it would warm up soon with the door now closed.

"What do you what? Money?"

"I'm not a prostitute, Taehyung," you muttered. "Even if you think I am."

"I don't," Taehyung said coolly. "But money happens to buy things, so maybe you want some to buy something for yourself."

You pursed your lips, grabbing your mint thermos of warm water. It was a bit weird, but you preferred warm water over most drinks, except soda. But you couldn't be binging on soda all day, unfortunately, so you tried not to buy it and stuck with the water. Kept you from getting diabetes. Damn you, weak human body!

"Nice nips."

You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip. You weren't wearing a bra. Your hard nipples were poking through the t-shirt thanks to the cold.

"Are they distracting your fragile mind?"

Taehyung smiled, dark curls around his teasing brown eyes. "No, I'm simply appreciating them. A lot."

You looked down. Taehyung opened his coat. You sucked in the side of your lip, seeing his bulge. Maybe he was too chill with you now. Ever since you two realized your sex partners overlapped, a strange friendship developed. You’d talk about it casually with him, as if you two were discussing Pokémon trading cards instead of one-night stands. He would advise you against so-and-so and you would warn him about who-the-fuck-ever. Of course, you two only figured that out after you sat on his dick, but, hey, it was a nice dick. Lived up to the hype.

Unlike Taehyung, you didn't really have any weird rules when it came to hooking up. You went with the flow, and if you were feeling it, then you did it. Didn't really matter who it was, what gender, if they wanted to be upside down on a park bench as you sucked their balls and they jacked off into their own face (happened once, was kind of interesting to be honest). Taehyung, however, had some kind of conquest thing going on, numbers and all that, and needed everyone to know he was good at it. Insanely good. Mind-blowingly good.

Taehyung closed his coat, tilting his head. "Whatchu want then? Not another fuck. Something else."

Your doorbell rang.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you muttered, slamming your thermos down and marching to the door. "What is this, a fucking zoo, I swear–"

You wrenched the door open.

"Fuck you."

Slightly slurred, husky, deep.

Okay, well, yeah, sure, after I teach Taehyung how to–

The black head of hair raised and your thought disintegrated into pure shock.

"I get mad when I see you," the man growled. "And even madder when I don't."

He was holding a half-full bottle of soju.

"I... what?" was your incredibly weak reply, because you were staring at the hunched form of Min Yoongi. Black hair longer than the last time you saw him, styled over a clean undercut, wearing a torn-up black bomber jacket and a green t-shirt, acid-wash jeans with giant holes, revealing his pink, slightly bruised knees. He was breathing hard, glaring at you.

Accusing you.

Suddenly the years without him felt like an eternity.

"Hyung?!"

Oh right. Taehyung existed.

But you couldn't react, couldn't breathe, starstruck, awestruck, dumbstruck at seeing Min Yoongi at your doorstep. Yoongi cocked at eyebrow, looking past you, and Taehyung's body was suddenly pressed against your back, reminding you, yes, he was real, actually there, why was he there again? What was life?

"Hyung, holy shit! I haven't seen you in ages, since..." Taehyung's voice suddenly died, baritone vanishing into nothing.

"Why the fuck is he here?" Yoongi grunted.

"I... was going to ask her to–"

"He was leaving," you interrupted, shoving Taehyung from behind you to in front of you. "Taking his coat and leaving."

"What?" Taehyung sputtered, brown eyes wide, confused, blinking rapidly. "Hyung, why do you have a bottle of soju–"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, very loudly.

"Forget this."

He turned, but Taehyung grabbed his arm.

Not you.

Taehyung stopped Yoongi.

The world was so cold. Your arm outstretched but touching nothing, because Taehyung was faster, Taehyung was closer, and you were so very far away from Min Yoongi. Yoongi turned his head slowly, venom in his gaze.

"Hyung."

Yoongi's eyes locked with yours, making you breathless.

"I don't understand," Taehyung said quietly. "What's going on? I thought you didn't care about her."

Those cat-like eyes narrowed, expression cold and emotionless. "Is that what you told them?"

It was airless and then the world burst into flames.

"You didn't tell me until the last day," you hissed, curling your hands into fists, voice rising. "You told all your friends, but you didn't tell me until the last day, not until the very last second before you flew to fucking Europe to go to university for that fucking music program!"

Taehyung's eyes widened. "Y-You said she didn't care..."

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi," you snarled, every muscle in your arms tensing, remembering all the moments, the gentleness that turned to coldness, the last night and what he took from you, turning into years and years of not caring about anything, fucking everything in sight, anyone who said yes, trying to forget his kiss and his memory before he got on a fucking plane and flew time zones away, never trying to contact you after.

"Fuck you for thinking you can be angry at me for any reason at all, fuck you for thinking I did anything, fucking anything, to deserve that shit, taking my fucking virginity and leaving me!"

"I didn't take your virginity," Yoongi spat back, spinning around, hair bristling. "You lost it to that–"

"Maybe you should have fucking asked me instead of believing stupid fucking rumors!"

The human body was useless, but also driven by emotion, and you didn't even feel cold anymore, years of anger piled up, rumors that you were a whore, so you became that whore, owning it, doing it all, because why did it fucking matter when everyone already thought that? Sex Teacher they called you and your first teacher was standing in front of you, completely clueless.

Fucking idiot.

Yoongi glared at you. You glared back.

Taehyung stood there, gawking.

Yoongi's eyes dropped. He shoved the half-empty bottle of soju into Taehyung's arms and pushed Taehyung aside, Taehyung flailing to prevent dropping the glass bottle, and closed the distance between you and him, and now you could see, older, more tired, still handsome, still the same dreamer from years ago who traced your fingers and placed them on the keys, slowly helping you play the notes even though you didn’t know jack shit, and you enthralled with his smile, his laugh, his dream of becoming a world-renowned pianist.

Yoongi grabbed your face and kissed you.

The first was the scent of alcohol, a subtle sweetness on his lips, but alcohol nonetheless. The second was the softness, the faint flush of his cheeks paired with his lips on yours, dainty despite the strength in grip on your cheeks. The third.

Heat.

The years-old iceberg of 'I-don't-give-a-shit' melting faster than the polar ice caps, sheets and sheets of ice crashing into the sea of emotions, youth and stubbornness combined, melted in his kiss, you grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him in your apartment, Taehyung calling after you both.

"Um, guys? Hello?"

"Go drinking Taehyung," Yoongi growled and slammed the door.

Taehyung held the half-bottle of soju.

What now?

What about his reputation?

He frowned.

Maybe he should call up Park Jimin.

Taehyung took a sip of the soju as he walked away. He made a disgusted face. Ugh. Why did hyung like such strong shit? The flavor was unique and rich, but his throat felt like a layer of skin was being sloughed off.

One would only drink something like this if they were depressed.

Oh.

"Your reputation precedes you."

"Fuck off."

"You became quite a woman."

"And you're still an insensitive shit."

You yanked his jacket off and dumped it on the floor, fists back in his green shirt, biting his lip, kissing him hard, him gasping in your mouth, his hands on your breasts, kneading them through the t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your hard nipples, sparks of pleasure crackling through you.

"I was trying to protect you," Yoongi snarled, just as angry as you, both frustrated at time lost, both knowing it was for the best, both realizing that his misunderstanding and your reaction was just shitty communication of stubborn youth and time past that couldn't reset.

But still.

Anger doesn't care about reason.

"Protect me, my ass," you scowled, dragging him into your kitchen, pinning him against the counter. "What do you think I am, emotional fragility queen?"

"You wouldn't have cared?" he shot back, gripping your shirt and flinging it up, sucking in a breath as he revealed your tits.

"Obviously! Why would I spend years being a slut to forget about your stupid hands?" you scowled, grabbing his wrists, planting said hands on your breasts, shuddering at the cold touch, chilled by night air, not exactly the same hands as back then, but better, rougher, strength of a man and not a high school boy, thumb and index finger rolling your hard nipples. Once again, fistfuls of his shirt, shaking him aggressively through heavy breaths. "You and your stupid mouth."

Kissing him, not the same, but better, stronger, more intense, stained with alcohol and regrets, devouring your tongue hungrily, intertwining.

"It would have ended the same," Yoongi murmured, the hurt creeping in his grating voice.

It would have.

And that was the shittest bit.

Knowing that even if he told you earlier that it would hurt no less, knowing that you would have gone and fucked other people anyway, because even if you tried to make it long distance, it wouldn't have worked. Some people could do it, but not young you and young Yoongi, too immature to know the meaning of wait.

"Still gives you no right to believe the words of others instead of asking me outright," you muttered, bending him backwards on the counter with your weight and he was letting you do it, hands still glued to your tits. "Why would believe that shit?"

"Because it was easier to leave you that way," Yoongi admitted, shame flitting in his dark eyes.

"Fucking shit, you're an idiot."

You already knew that. Guessed, after years of agonizing over it. Easier to be angry than understanding. Easier to feel pain than to acknowledge it. What could you do? Tell him not to go to Europe? Not when his parents, his family, his friends, his neighbors, fuck, the whole damn school was ecstatic and congratulatory for him, everyone except you, not because you didn’t want Yoongi to follow his dreams, but because you wanted him to stay.

With you.

Selfishly.

And so, it was so much easier to be mad, so much easier for the two of you to fight until he tumbled on top of you, kissing you, tearing off your clothes as you tore off his and the first time hurt, it hurt but not as much as you thought, maybe because there was so much adrenaline from the anger and because he was so careful and loving about it.

He really was.

And there was pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain you felt the next day and the day after, and the next month, years, numbing everything, agreeing to really stupid propositions like the thing with Taehyung, all because you knew and he knew, but you both chose to be mad over being reasonable.

You hauled Yoongi up onto your kitchen counter, him kicking the side of the cabinets to lift himself up, not speaking. One look in his eyes and you saw yourself reflected in them, so close to tears that you kept your mouth shut and he kept his shut, preferring the anger to the sadness.

Because deep down, you were so, so happy to see Yoongi again.

It didn’t discount any of the wrongs though.

You fumbled with the button of his jeans and his hands came to help, unzipping, fingertips tracing over yours, more agile than before, swifter than an amateur. You raised your head, locking your gaze with his.

Yoongi was panting, cheeks flushed, guilt consuming his features.

It stung.

You yanked his pants down unceremoniously, not caring right now about stupid young you and stupid young Yoongi, gripping his underwear and dragging them down, his hard cock springing up, bigger than you remembered, thicker, red tip twitching, still wanting it just as bad, not looking at his face and closing your mouth in on it, gripping his hips and pulling him closer for better leverage. His scent and moan encompassed you, your eyes shutting as your tongue circled around his hot length, swallowing it up, oh so good, so good, better than anyone else’s because it was the one you tried to forget, entranced by the way Yoongi’s cock slid down your throat and filled your mouth, hearing his ecstasy from your touch, gasps of pleasure as you began to bob your head up and down, tongue going from the bottom of the head, down the quivering veins, all the way to the base, nudging his balls with the tip of your tongue, a skill you learned from many, many blowjobs.

You opened your eyes and you knew your guilt was in them. Yoongi could see it with every mouthful of his cock disappearing into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated, empathizing.

“Yeah, so what if we’ve fucked other people?” he grunted, rolling his hips into your face and making you growl in your chest. “I could care less.”

Yeah, you could, and me too.

Faster and tighter, suffocating him with your mouth, hands flat on the counter, blowing him at the same spot you were eating a fucking salad two hours ago before Taehyung’s arrival and contemplating tongue techniques, back when your iceberg of uncaring was still intact but now it was part of the ocean of emotions once more, watching Yoongi unravel, rubbing his fists into the granite, crying out and arching his back, black hair fanning out with every harsh swallow and throat clench around the head, leaking pre-cum into your throat and throbbing into the roof of your mouth.

“F-Fuck me…”

He hissed out your name and snapped his chin to his chest, thrusting into your mouth, exploding, salty thickness coating your tongue and down your tight throat, you gulping it down with a choked gasp, his taste a part of you now after all this time, an edge of bitterness that you welcomed, who knew what the fuck he was eating before this, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, you had Yoongi’s cock in your mouth and every second was worth it.

Your tongue coated the head, collecting the dribbling cum and you swallowed that too, glaring at him. Lowering down once more, swallowing him to the base once again, him sucking in a pained breath at the sensitivity because your throat was unforgiving, constricting him as forcefully as you could, tongue sliding up, teasing right under the head, the thin skin that make Yoongi squirm and hiss under you, spreading the slit with the tip of your tongue. Yoongi slapped his palms onto the counter, clenching his jaw to avoid screaming.

But he didn’t stop you.

He simply watched you with pained eyes, letting you do whatever you wanted, thrashing under your merciless mouth, rutting the sensitive head against the roof of your mouth roughly, his body thrashing to try to get away, but still Yoongi said nothing, thin moans escaping his closed lips, even twisting his hips back and rocking them into your face to let you abuse him more, manhandling him to your heart’s content. You kept going, long agonizing minutes, strongly sucking the head, shoving it all the way to the back of your throat, teasing it with your tongue, swirling around and around, pressure, roughness, tightness, aggravating the sensitive skin until you saw Yoongi on the verge of tears.

He still didn’t stop you.

You retreated, your lips now only around the head, tongue ghosting over the pulsating, inflamed tip, drenching it with saliva.

“You deserved that,” you muttered.

“I deserve a lot of things,” Yoongi grunted, finally relaxing his shoulders and laying flat against the counter, panting hard, cheeks still flushed, staring at the ceiling.

Neither of you were saying sorry.

You gave him one last painful suck and he swore under his breath, but didn’t say anything else, biting his lip hard as you popped your mouth off his cock. For a few moments, there was nothing but oppressive, irate panting. Yoongi’s dick was still hard and sticking straight up, he himself spread out on your kitchen counter like a fucking buffet, still wearing his shirt and half-wearing his jeans. You were shirtless, tits out, gray sweatpants slung low on your hips.

“When are you going back?”

Yoongi was still staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t know.”

“Liar.”

Dark eyes flickered down.

“If you asked me five minutes ago, the answer would have been in two weeks.”

Your eyes narrowed, boring into his. “How many blowjobs have you gotten overseas, huh? One hundred? Five hundred?” Frustration, grief, vehemence, all rolled into one, turning your voice into ice, sheets of frozen water churning and reforming, snapping together one by one with each word, your hands coming up and digging your nails into his thighs, racking them down, bright red scratches in your wake. “How many people have you fucked? Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Yoongi?”

He gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut, fingers curling onto fists at the pain.

“I really thought you didn’t care,” was his distressed hiss.

You stopped; nails sunk into his pale skin, creating dark crescents with how hard you were pressing.

“I thought you would hate me forever.”

Your hands left his thighs, glaring scarlet lines of your pain on his skin now.

“And I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.”

His fingers uncoiled, one by one. Long, deft digits, practiced, trained, beautiful, crescents of pink from his own nails in his palm. Eyes opening, lash by lash, lifting, dark, pained, regretful, drifting down to you and his exposed, still-hard cock, just there, ignored, surrounded by scratch marks.

“I was mad that you didn’t try to contact me,” Yoongi mumbled. “And madder at myself for not trying to contact you.”

Ice cracking, melting off, crashing back down into the vast ocean of emotion.

You reached into your pocket.

Your name, tumbling from his lips, his eyes shifting to you.

“In between countless partings, the one I always remembered was you.”

You climbed onto the counter, sweatpants and underwear on the floor. Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock, so stunned that he couldn’t stop staring at you, knees, thighs, crotch – clean, you were always clean-shaven, but he didn’t know that, a habit you developed without him and now you felt weird with hair down there – and so he could see everything, wet lips glistening. Up to your waist, a pattern of small moles above your bellybutton that high-school Yoongi had danced his fingers over.

Saying, “My Milky Way, my galaxy.”

This was after you called him an insensitive bastard and he accused you of losing your virginity to some athletic jock kid, as if high-school you would ever have a chance with someone like that.

Up your tits, your collarbones, your face.

Determined.

Yoongi jumped, realizing you had wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped it a few times before rolling down the condom, angling your pussy above the purple-red head. He made eye contact with you.

“I can’t go back if you do this,” he whispered.

“Boo-fucking-hoo, shut your trap.”

You sank down and he clamped his jaw shut, veins on his neck popping out in strain as Yoongi tried not to cry, your previous ministrations amplifying the sudden hot, wet pleasure that overwhelmed him, you sighing in bliss as he filled you, nicer than before, better because you knew what to do now, relaxing your muscles before pulsing around him, his eyelids fluttering, whines in his throat, palms flat on the granite, such beautiful hands that you reached down and put them on your thighs, wanting him to touch you.

Dark brown eyes shaking, pupils dilated, fingernails digging into your skin.

“Isn’t that what you do? Use your hands all day?” you taunted.

He gripped your thighs tight, apology flashing across his features.

“You better not cum before I do,” you snapped, rocking your hips a little.

Yoongi sucked in a breath. “I’ll try.”

You leaned forward, one hand on the counter, the other closing in on his black hair. Twisting the black locks in your fingers, gripping so hard your knuckles were white, but you weren’t pulling on his hair, only holding it, but your eyes told him everything.

“You fucking owe me.”

Him staring into your blazing eyes.

“I owe you for the rest of my life.”

You rolled your hips into his crotch, hard, smacking your ass down on his balls and he whimpered, jerking his head to the side and pulling his own hair, whimper turning into a wounded gasp.

“Shut the fuck up. We both know you deserved that scholarship, you talented asshole.”

You began your pace, bruising and intense from the start, unforgiving, but you had already forgiven him, years ago, by yourself with no one else to know, now your hand in his hair with Yoongi writhing under you, causing his own pain flaring across his scalp because your grip was so tight, his hands on your thighs, his length sliding out and then shoved back in. You could feel him getting harder, swelling more, the sensation unbearable so he kept igniting the pain to prevent himself from orgasm. You made sure to let the maximum amount of your skin to hit him – clit on his crotch, pussy enveloped around his cock, the tip hitting your deepest, most pleasurable spot, ass smacking against his balls – so that even you moaned, shivers of ecstasy layering on top of each other, climbing notes of a song from long ago.

Now continuing.

From that night at your parents’ house that bedroom of painful and lovely memories, his hands on your wrists, telling you that he could go slow until you felt better, how could he not know? Yoongi just assumed it was because you weren’t aroused since you were so angry at him, and you never accused him of having any experience before you, and to be honest you didn’t give a shit; if that was society’s fault or your feelings for him, you didn’t know. It all seemed so foolish back then, stupid, why were you so attached to a high-school boy when there were thousands of other men and women out there, and you tried, you fucked them, but in the end.

In the end, it wasn’t the roars of pleasure or multiple orgasms or big dicks or sweet pussy that made you feel the same as you felt when you looked down at Yoongi, eyes rolling back, biting his lip so hard the skin was white, black hair bunched around your fingers, his fucking green t-shirt still on but you could tell every muscle was tensed and he was barely breathing, anything to prevent himself from orgasm, knuckles white on your thighs, clutching them so hard they would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

Yoongi was a genius. He could play the piano like no one else.

Someone could be technically better, someone could be more experienced, someone could be more nuanced, but no one felt music like Yoongi felt music, no one loved piano like how Yoongi loved piano.

He deserved every cent, every experience, every year he spent overseas.

He seemed to feel your gaze on him and his eyes found yours, black pupils nearly overtaking the irises, sweating so bad that his t-shirt was soaking down the front.

“Hold on,” you breathed. “Hold on for me, Yoongi.”

He whined pathetically.

Did he love you as much as he loved piano or was it the soju talking?

Who are you kidding?

Yoongi would never love you as much as the piano.

You set your jaw and leaned down a little more, bending his cock the tiniest bit, more leverage to go harder, rougher, rolling your spine down, smack! Onto his crotch, Yoongi’s mouth flying open and crying out your name in shock, your knees screaming on the harsh granite but you didn’t care, fucking Yoongi for all you were worth, using every muscle and every technique you knew to apply as much pressure as you could, choking his dick. Yoongi’s hands jolted off your thighs, hitting your open thermos on the counter, both of your forgetting it was there this whole time, the double-walled, stainless steel, mint thermos.

It toppled and spewed warm water all over your thighs, your joined crotches, part of his shirt, probably leaking down his ass and onto the counter.

You yelped at the sudden unexpected wet warmth. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, wild moan escaping his lips and your pussy spasmed, orgasm plummeting into you, a sudden avalanche that made your eyes roll back and a guttural groan vibrate your chest, both hands inadvertently clasping and yanking on Yoongi’s hair, and he lost it, whining your name as he came, hard cock lurching and convulsing against your walls, shooting his load into the condom, his cries extending to wanton, pained moans. It took everything in you to at least loosen your fingers, spreading them on his scalp and holding his head as gently as you could, whole body shuddering, even your jaw, not able to say his name properly because your teeth were clattering uncomfortably against each other.

You closed your eyes.

Listening to Yoongi’s strained breathing. Hearing pain, sadness, his raspy voice from long ago, words in the seconds before you feel asleep in his arms from being worn out from anger and losing your virginity. All this time, wanting to believe it was silence, wanting to believe he said nothing, letting yourself believe in your lie to fuel your rage.

“I am sorry.”

You opened your eyes, lowering your chin. Yoongi’s dark orbs, glassy and spent, trying to focus on your face. His hand came up, still wet with the spilled water, and you realized you had pitched forward a little from the force of your orgasm.

His fingers danced on the small mole pattern above your bellybutton.

“My Milky Way. My galaxy,” he whispered softly.

Lovingly.

Guilt all over his face.

“I have to go back. I have performances, opportunities.”

You leaned down. “Stop lying, Yoongi.” Eyes locked with his and a smile. “You want to go back. Because you are an ambitious, talented asshole.”

You knew you were right. You could see it in his eyes, the quickness as he looked away, not wanting to face you. You slumped down, knees giving out, Yoongi’s cock half-buried in you, slowly softening, but it didn’t matter. You put your full weight on him, fitting your chin on his shoulder, not quite looking at his face, nose far too close to your fucking kitchen counter. Yoongi grunted uncomfortably, but didn’t tell you to get off. There was water everywhere and the mint thermos was on the tile floor and somehow neither of you had noticed. It must have made a very loud sound.

“I hate my job anyway. Might as well run away to a different continent for some stupid boy.”

“I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m not asking.”

He chuckled.

“You really have changed.”

“Sucks for you.”

You felt his arms wrap around your waist.

“Guess so.”

“Why was Taehyung here anyway?”

“I was supposed to show him how to eat pussy.”

Yoongi blinked at you, holding a damp rag. Both of you were kneeling on the floor, naked, attempting to sop up the mess. “How?”

“He was going to practice on me.”

“I can give a live demonstration instead,” Yoongi growled, an edge possessive.

“Yeah, no, I think my night is booked. Emergency appointment.”

You picked up your kitchen towels and wrung them out in your sink, looking down at him, raising your eyebrow. Yoongi’s hair was messy and curled, wet from sweat and water. He gazed up at you. You saw him shiver. You kept your expression neutral despite your heartbeat racing.

“Have some catching up to do.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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gwynsplainer · 3 years

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On The Grinning Man and the De-Politicization of L'Homme Qui Rit (a Spontaneous Essay)

Since I watched The Grinning Man I’ve been meaning to write a post comparing it to The Man Who Laughs but I have a lot of opinions and analysis I wanted to do so I have been putting it off for ages. So here goes! If I were to make a post where I explain everything the musical changes it would definitely go over the word limit, so I’ll mostly stick to the thematic. Let me know if that’s a post you’d like to see, though!

Ultimately, The Grinning Man isn’t really an adaptation of the Man Who Laughs. It keeps some of the major plot beats (a disfigured young man with a mysterious past raised by a man and his wolf to perform to make a living alongside the blind girl he rescued from the snow, restored to his aristocratic past by chance after their show is seen by Lord David and Duchess Josiana, and the interference of the scheming Barkilphedro…. well, that’s just about it). The problem I had with the show, however, wasn’t the plot points not syncing up, it was the thematic inconsistency with the book. By replacing the book’s antagonistic act—the existence of a privileged ruling class—with the actions of one or two individuals from the lower class, transforming the societal tragedy into a revenge plot, and reducing the pain of dehumanization and abuse to the pain of a physical wound, The Grinning Man is a sanitized, thematically weak failure to adapt The Man Who Laughs.

I think the main change is related to the reason I posit the book never made it in the English-speaking world. The musical was made in England, the setting of the book which was so critical of its monarchy, it’s aristocracy, and the failings of its society in ways that really haven’t been remedied so far. It might be a bit of a jump to assume this is connected, but I have evidence. They refer to it as a place somewhat like our own, but change King James to King Clarence, and Queen Anne to Angelica. Obviously, the events of the book are fictional, and it was a weird move for Hugo to implicate real historical figures as responsible for the torture of a child, but it clearly served a purpose in his political criticism that the creative team made a choice to erase. They didn’t just change the names, though, they replaced the responsibility completely. In the book, Gwynplaine’s disfigurement—I will be referring to him as Gwynplaine because I think the musical calling him Grinpayne was an incredibly stupid and cruel choice—was done to him very deliberately, with malice aforethought, at the order of the king. The king represents the oppression of the privileged, and having the fault be all Barkilphédro loses a lot thematically. The antagonism of the rich is replaced by the cruelty of an upwardly mobile poor man (Barkilphédro), and the complicity of another poor man.

The other “villain” of the original story is the way that Gwynplaine is treated. I think for 1869, this was a very ahead-of-its-time approach to disability, which almost resembles the contemporary understanding of the Social Model of disability. (Sidenote: I can’t argue on Déa’s behalf. Hugo really dropped the ball with her. I’m going to take a moment to shout out the musical for the strength and agency they gave Déa.) The way the public treats Gwynplaine was kind of absent from the show. I thought it was a very interesting and potentially good choice to have the audience enter the role of Gwynplaine’s audience (the first they see of him is onstage, performing as the Grinning Man) rather than the role of the reader (where we first see him as a child, fleeing a storm). If done right, this could have explored the story’s theme of our tendency to place our empathy on hold in order to be distracted and feel good, eventually returning to critique the audience’s complicity in Gwynplaine’s treatment. However, since Grinpayne’s suffering is primarily based in the angst caused by his missing past and the physical pain of his wound (long-healed into a network of scars in the book) [a quick side-note: I think it was refreshing to see chronic pain appear in media, you almost never see that, but I wish it wasn’t in place of the depth of the original story], the audience does not have to confront their role in his pain. They hardly play one. Instead, it is Barkilphédro, the singular villain, who is responsible for Grinpayne’s suffering. Absolving the audience and the systems of power which put us comfortably in our seats to watch the show of pain and misery by relegating responsibility to one character, the audience gets to go home feeling good.

If you want to stretch, the villain of the Grinning Man could be two people and not one. It doesn’t really matter, since it still comes back to individual fault, not even the individual fault of a person of high status, but one or two poor people. Musical!Ursus is an infinitely shittier person than his literary counterpart. In the book, Gwynplaine is still forced to perform spectacles that show off his appearance, but they’re a lot less personal and a lot less retraumatizing. In the musical, they randomly decided that not only would the role of the rich in the suffering of the poor be minimized, but also it would be poor people that hurt Grinpayne the most. Musical!Ursus idly allows a boy to be mutilated and then takes him in and forces him to perform a sanitized version of his own trauma while trying to convince him that he just needs to move on. In the book, he is much kinder. Their show, Chaos Vanquished, also allows him to show off as an acrobat and a singer, along with Déa, whose blindness isn’t exploited for the show at all. He performs because he needs to for them all to survive. He lives a complex life like real people do, of misery and joy. He’s not obsessed with “descanting on his own deformity” (dark shoutout to William Shakespeare for that little…infuriating line from Richard III), but rather thoughtfully aware of what it means. He deeply feels the reality of how he is seen and treated. Gwynplaine understands that he was hurt by the people who discarded him for looking different and for being poor, and he fucking goes off about it in the Parliament Confrontation scene (more to come on this). It is not a lesson he has to learn but a lesson he has to teach.

Grinpayne, on the other hand, spends his days in agony over his inability to recall who disfigured him, and his burning need to seek revenge. To me, this feels more than a little reminiscent of the trope of the Search for a Cure which is so pervasive in media portrayals of disability, in which disabled characters are able to think of nothing but how terribly wrong their lives went upon becoming disabled and plan out how they might rectify this. Grinpayne wants to avenge his mutilation. Gwynplaine wants to fix society. Sure, he decides to take the high road and not do this, and his learning is a valuable part of the musical’s story, but I think there’s something so awesome about how the book shows a disabled man who understands his life better than any abled mentor-philosophers who try to tell him how to feel. Nor is Gwynplaine fixed by Déa or vice versa, they merely find solace and strength in each other’s company and solidarity. The musical uses a lot of language about love making their bodies whole which feels off-base to me.

I must also note how deeply subversive the book was for making him actually happy: despite the pain he feels, he is able to enjoy his life in the company and solidarity he finds with Déa and takes pride in his ability to provide for her. The assumption that he should want to change his lot in life is not only directly addressed, but also stated outright as a failure of the audience: “You may think that had the offer been made to him to remove his deformity he would have grasped at it. Yet he would have refused it emphatically…Without his rictus… Déa would perhaps not have had bread every day”

He has a found family that he loves and that loves him. I thought having him come from a loving ~Noble~ family that meant more to him than Ursus did rather than having Ursus, a poor old man, be the most he had of a family in all his memory and having Déa end up being Ursus’ biological daughter really undercut the found family aspect of the book in a disappointing way.

Most important to me was the fundamental change that came from the removal of the Parliament Confrontation scene, on both the themes of the show and the character of Gwynplaine. When Gwyn’s heritage is revealed and his peerage is restored to him, he gets the opportunity to confront society’s problems in the House of Parliament. When Gwynplaine arrives in the House of Parliament, the Peers of England are voting on what inordinate sum to allow as income to the husband of the Queen. The Peers expect any patriotic member of their ranks to blithely agree to this vote: in essence, it is a courtesy. Having grown up in extreme poverty, Gwynplaine is outraged by the pettiness of this vote and votes no. The Peers, shocked by this transgression, allow him to take the stand and explain himself. In this scene, Gwynplaine brilliantly and profoundly confronts the evils of society. He shows the Peers their own shame, recounting how in his darkest times a “pauper nourished him” while a “king mutilated him.” Even though he says nothing remotely funny, he is received with howling laughter. This scene does a really good job framing disability as a problem of a corrupt, compassionless society rather than something wrong with the disabled individual (again, see the Social Model of disability, which is obviously flawed, but does a good job recognizing society that denies access, understanding and compassion—the kind not built on pity—as a central problem faced by disabled communities). It is the central moment of Hugo’s story thematically, which calls out the injustices in a system and forces the reader to reckon with it.

It is so radical and interesting and full that Gwynplaine is as brilliant and aware as he is. He sees himself as a part of a system of cruelty and seeks justice for it. He is an empathic, sharp-minded person who seeks to make things better not just for himself and his family, but for all who suffer as he did at the hands of Kings. Grinpayne’s rallying cry is “I will find and kill the man who crucified my face.” He later gets wise to the nature of life and abandons this, but in that he never actually gets to control his own relationship to his life. When I took a class about disability in the media one of the things that seemed to stand out to me most is that disabled people should be treated as the experts on their own experiences, which Gwynplaine is. Again, for a book written in 1869 that is radical. Grinpayne is soothed into understanding by the memory of his (rich) mother’s kindness.

I’ll give one more point of credit. I loved that there was a happy ending. But maybe that’s just me. The cast was stellar, and the puppetry was magnificent. I wanted to like the show so badly, but I just couldn’t get behind what it did to the story I loved.

#the grinning man #the man who laughs #tgm musical #l'homme qui rit #victor hugo #gwynplaine's parliament rambles #long post /

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iamnmbr3 · 3 years

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Can I just say thank you for expressing your opinion on the ending. I didn't like it either and I felt so bad. Like the tragedy felt kinda unwarranted? I don't know I was expecting to feel sad because of the ending but instead I feel sad because of the writing

Ah no worries! *Hugs* At least Mag1-160 form a complete and coherent whole with a good stopping point. Nothing from s5 or the ending can take away all the good writing and characterization from earlier on and because 160 is such a good ending for a cosmic horror tragedy you can relisten and stop there and have a fully satisfying conclusion the narrative. but yea “I was expecting to feel sad because of the ending but instead I feel sad because of the writing” sums it up perfectly. what even was that? Jon’s about-face made no sense to me and so much stuff was left unresolved.

A lot of plot lines felt pointless. What was the point of building up Annabelle as a character when she served a completely generic role? (Also hate how she had so many parallels to Jon as a victim but none of her trauma was addressed and instead she was portrayed as a generic monster. Give her the complexity and agency she deserves!). What was the point of introducing the camera? Why would the web start the apocalypse to prevent it? If its plan was just to spread to other worlds then why did none of the characters react or experience a moment of terrible regret for having believed the Web? (Also why would they believe the Web to begin with?). Why were there so many spiders at the Institute? What was the deal with Gertrude and Agnes?

What was the point of the Upton House interlude? If Salesa wasn’t in league with the Web why did he know stuff about Jon and Martin as though he had been listening to the tapes? How did Annabelle know to find him? Why did Jon and Martin walk into the house while being so glib and giggling? I assumed the Web was influencing them but that doesn’t seem to have been the case? Why did no one else get suspicious of the lighter if it only affects Jon? Why was the lighter so powerful? Where did it come from? Why couldn’t Jon see through it? Why does the Web have the ability to see the future?

Why did Martin get to yell at Jon for going behind his back but Jon didn’t get to yell at Martin for doing the same thing to him? Why are none of Martin’s mistakes or flaws ever called out by the other characters? Why does he get to criticize Jon for things he does himself as well? What even happened in this ending? I couldn’t follow it and the character motivations made no sense to me, which completely undercut the tragedy.

160 put so many things into perspective and gave a deeper meaning to a lot of things. S5 didn’t really change anything for me. Relistening post s4 makes you go “ohhhh” at so many things but relistening post s5 will be basically the same. Ultimately for me this season didn’t add anything and felt like it wasn’t planned as carefully as the earlier seasons. Mag200 didn’t address a lot of the issues with the season or fix the many plot holes that emerged. BUT the first 4 seasons remain perfect and have a very satisfying ending point so I will still be able to enjoy the show, unlike something like GoT that just...doesn’t have an ending point bc the finale was botched.

#asks #tma finale spoilers #tma finale #tma spoilers #TMA #the magnus archives #tma critical #tma negativity #I don't think it was their intent but having Annabelle be only of the only WOC characters and then just making her a literal monster with no #depth to her motivation and no exploration of her victimhood especially when other characters don't do a monster transformation was not a #great choice and felt straight out of the bad thematic elements of Lovecraft

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alphaofdarkness · 3 years

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I wish to know more of your awesome OCs!! So, 19, 22(or maybe as an alternative if they don't, something you mischaracterize on some of them by mistake? Odd, but I sometimes mess up my own ocs XD), 23, 24, 26, and 32 for the OC questions!!

Oh! You beautiful person you! 💖🥺 Of course I shall tell you more about my many, many ocs! Hopefully I can fulfill! 🥰🤗

More undercut because this turned out to be very long ~ 😅

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why).

Aw, honestly all my OC’s mean so much to me! It is hard to play favorites sometimes lol. Though, if I had to choose, I’m going with two of them!

Samantha, or Sam, is definitely my baby and has definitely developed so much from her original self. Nonetheless, still the same shy, curious girl who has a big role to uphold as chosen Beta to her Alpha. Plus, being a Legendary Wolf Warrior of Light, even more so! Still, despite many the many hardships and obstacles she has faced, she is still hopeful and a total sweetheart. She just wants a settled life and live her with her closest pack mates.

I have definitely put her though the ringer a lot, emotionally and even explored just several internal things with her. I know Danielle is meant to be me in a sense, but personality and emotional wise, I am more like this lovely Angel. Best girl and everyone loves her!

Second is definitely Danielle (my BsD self insert). Personally, because I have started to embrace her and give her more of my personality and who I really am. Still keeping her as her own person with her struggles, in some aspects, but giving her more of me as well. She has definitely allowed me to have some more self love for myself. Even if it is come and go on most days. She has just grown to be more of a gradual part of me in the recent years since I got into Bsd. I truly love her as she gives me a reason to embrace the parts of me I never would have considered so much or even just not like about me.

Self shipping has definitely also helped, I just love Dany very much and hold her close, please she may be stubborn but she is hella fragile ;;;w;;;

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how?

Hm, I wouldn't say anyone has mischaracterized my characters so much that I know of, maybe my parents whenever there is a moment they see my Oc’s and just make a judgement on them on the spot lol.

I suppose me mischaracterizing my OCs would probably be the Seven Deadly Soul Sins? Maybe ^^, These seven, practically, ghost entities of the Seven Deadly Sins are meant to be perceived as the worst possible people/wolves. Their existence is the reason people do bad things and are the negative contrast to the Legendary Wolf Warriors.

Take an old, unfinished draw of all 7 of them together~

I know what they are, how they behave, what their very existence and presence entails. However, I have come to the bad tendency of redemption in my line of story telling, I often find myself back and forth whether there is any redeemable qualities that should be given to them considering their very existence and such. Envy, or Evelyn, is one that I can definitely see having something on that accord, but she is still at her core bad.

I don't know if I am saying this correctly or even answering the question well lol. But yeah, I say my Deadly Sin OC’s often can be mischaracterized in a way. I can definitely picture them being top favs if my story was an actual thing. I support the fans in all they come lol ^^

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?

I can't think of one I changed too much out of concern for what they are like that I can remember to be quite honest ^^,

I guess maybe Wisler? I know when I first came up with the start up concept of the LWW, I never intended for him to be a previous Warrior. It was always meant to be Dany’s Aunt who possessed it and Wisler was just a precautious elder wolf who needed to teach her to better her powers, less she gives it up like his daughter had.

Of course, the whole concept and idea, just gives way for him to have been a possible warrior in the past. If anything I just the developed the idea more and made it more of a tragedy for Wisler. Normally, the concept of being a LWW is meant to be a blessing, a gift bestowed by a greater power, but to him, after giving up his power and remaining upon the world, he just sees it as a curse. Pride only solidified that into his mind. Nonetheless, he becomes a mentor to the other warriors to better themselves and keep them from giving up their power.

Second, was more of a momentary interest in the Chronicles of Narnia and being ever so salty about Susan being left behind, while her family died and went to Narnia ;;;w;;;

Silly thing really, but literally chose, out of all the warriors, Lidia to be the one to be left alive, from whatever scenario I had at the time, because she refused her soul gift of the LWW’s. It was a momentary silly concept, I don't know why I would chose her for this scenario at all, she doesn’t deserve that ;;w;;

If anything, the ones that I can picture are Yamato and Danielle, just because of their mental state and emotional turmoil under such a heavy weight of loss. It was a silly concept I had thought of once, and just cry little at the thought ;;w;;

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why?

Heck, I would love to meet all of them... and heavy apologize for all the hell I've put them all through ;;;w;;;

But Jason~ most definitely...Not cause I self ship myself with him or anything but UwU,,, He is a sweetheart and a beautiful boi ~ I want to love him and give him a soft life pls.

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will?

Ahh,,, All of them, in a way? ^^; my middle self was something else entirely~

I think design wise, most if not all my warriors, are still the same. Maybe just a few new upgrades in their fur shade, colored eyes, and maybe their human designs too. Most definitely will change more in the future, just for the sake of bettering myself to draw people.

Old, high school art~ Cringe

Any new design change is purely out of being in a more better mindset of design and just development of what make them unique. I have definitely changed all of their Soul Markings, I have changed Lidia’s name from Leafia recently, Taka’s formerly sky blue eyes to more of a pale green, Sora’s former tail scar to the claw ones on her shoulder, etc.

Origin, personality and relation wise on the other hand, GRADUAL SHIFT! Some points:

Sora, Yamato, and Takaru are heavily inspired by the Digimon Adventure kids of the same name, I kept their surnames of the ones from the series for a long time into at most Junior Year of High School. Til I learned, if I want to make them my own, I have to change this entirely!

So Sora, Yamato, and Takaru are definitely different entirely from their original selves, personality and kind of design wise.

Sam was kind of meant to be like Kari from Digimon in a way, but heavily refused to name her that or make her in similarity of the character.

Another Oc of mine named Jacob Wolfe was originally going to be the Warrior of Earth before I came up with Lidia.

There was originally meant to be just 5 Warriors, Lidia and Jason not yet part of it and, surprisingly, neither was Danielle.

Jason was originally named Damien and was kind of, for a while, Danielle’s twin sibling... Changed that drastically and entirely after renaming him to Jason.

Originally, had some other mythical beasts living amongst them in the Forest of Dreams, like dragons and gryphons for a while.

Originally, played with the idea of the warriors coming back to life if they didn't give up their powers, but... after much though it just became more of a “too cheesy of choice?” Especially for an ending thing before the next generation kids come in, it was just not an option after a while.

These are just some that I can think of at the top of my head at least, I am sure there is much more scrap things in my mind lol.

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why?

...God I don't want any of them to fecking die grueso-(I should shut my mouth actually),,, even though I will admit I did internally put my warriors into a shitty thought-out idea of them in a Final Destination scenario...

Ahh, may Yamato in a way as that stoic, hardened protagonist with the will too try and survive, Wrath is his counter self sin, I find that fitting in a way. Same with Jason, just because of his slight nativity to being a warrior and how he left his former abusive living from his alpha and stepfather. Oddly enough, maybe Sam? Just because of her ability to see the worst things to happen in the future, but I am not sure lol.

Am thinking of the new Resident Evil game I see floating around with some gamer youtubers and I can see Yamato and/or Jason in the position and setting.

—✨——✨——✨—

I truly enjoyed all these questions! It gave me time to think and reflect on my ocs! I do hope you enjoy some old, blurred and unfinished art from ya wolf girl~ I truly appreciate this and gives me the feels of validation! ;;;w;;;

#the legendary wolf warriors #alpha’s art #alpha howls #oc ask questions!#bsd oc #original character #alpha's ocs

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howlandreads · 5 years

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ASOIAF Has Never Been Nihilistic

I've written a few different posts about the end of GoT, and why I don't think its carelessness is a reflection of the ending GRRM is planning, and some people responded by saying the show's ending was nihilistic and GRRM confirming that his ending is similar means that the end of ASOIAF will be nihilistic as well. And while I'd agree that Bran being King but losing his humanity, Sansa being QITN but all alone, Jon being alive but unaffected by being seperated from his family, and Arya leaving Westeros without as much as a second thought, gives the show's ending a certain meaninglessness, I think D&D have always chosen nihilism where GRRM never did. They were always more interested in the shock value of GRRM's plot lines than the emotions and motivations of his characters that gave those plot lines their meaning. They consistently undercut all of ASOIAF's most important characters in the name of plot twists, which left them considerably less realistic and less human than their book counterparts. GRRM took so much time to craft characters that were so personable, both in their flaws and in their heroism, that they felt like real people. And this care and attention to detail is the reason I can't imagine GRRM giving his story a nihilistic ending, even unintentionally. ASOIAF is written with such affection towards its own characters, that I just can't be convinced that it was actually devoid of morality and meaning this whole time:

"Back in Winterfell, Sansa had told him that the demons of the dark couldn't touch him if he hid beneath his blanket. He almost did that now, before he remembered that he was a prince, and almost a man grown."

- Bran IV, A Storm of Swords

"Robb was touched by that, Catelyn saw, but abashed as well. The day was damp and grey, a drizzle had begun to fall, and the last thing he wanted was to call a halt to his march so he could stand in the wet and console a tearful young wife in front of half his army. He speaks her gently, she thought as she watched them together, but there is anger underneath."

- Catelyn V, A Storm of Swords

"Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile."

- Arya II, A Feast for Crows

"His palfrey was a blood bay, his destrier a magnificent grey stallion. It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them."

- Jaime III, A Feast for Crows

A truly nihilistic author wouldn't take the time to allow Bran to miss the comfort of his big sister or allow Jaime the time to mourn his horses.

GRRM takes every possible chance to highlight the simple humanity of his characters, and it shows just how much he loves them. And if he planned on giving his story a cruel and careless ending, why did he spend so much time making his story so undeniably hopeful even though terrible and painful things were happening to his heroes? While the story arcs grew harder, the writing grew softer, and I don't think GRRM is planning on throwing all of that away on a nihilistic ending.

I also think it's worth mentioning that not even GRRM's villains are nihilists. Tywin is obsessed with establishing a fearsome and respected family legacy no matter the cost. Cersei is motivated by bitterness towards patriarchy and love for her children and anything that reflects herself. The slavers in Essos are selfish and horrific, but still motivated by their love of their families and themselves. Even Ramsay, GRRM's most cruel and disgusting villain, is haunted by his bastardy and fixation on his mother. Roose is the most nihilistic of GRRM's characters, and I still wouldn't call him a pure nihilist. Not only is GRRM not a nihilist himself, but it would seem he doesn't even see nihilism as interesting enough to really include in his story, much less define it. ASOIAF is a story endlessly fascinated by the motivations, pure and polluted, heroic and cowardly, of it's characters.

So even if the books end as the show did, it will be delivered in a completely different way. Bran will finally know that he is not broken, and never was. Sansa will find a love as fierce and passionate as the songs, even if it is as doomed as the love of Naerys Targaryen and Prince Aemon the Dragon Knight. Jon will know that his mother was a highborn Lady who loved him so much and never wanted to abandon him, and parting from his family will be painful, but he will most likely be doing it to protect the realm. Arya will leave Westeros in search of adventure, not because she doesn't have a home, but because she knows she always has a home to come back to. The Starks will have truly internalized and lived the lessons and morals Ned raised them with, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. And beyond the Starks, I am confident in the independence Dorne will almost certainly achieve, the new way Asha will show the Ironborn, the redemption of Jaime and the tragic love story between him and Brienne. I'm confident in the endings GRRM has planned for even the most minor characters he has created.

So while the heartbreaking events of S8 may very well have somewhat similar book counterparts, I think they will be devastating in a realistic and neccessary way, instead of the confusing and meaningless way they happened in the show. Our characters may not get fairy tale endings that are clean and neat, but tragedy is not the same thing as nihilism. Sadness and the ache of the human heart are actually quite the opposite of nihilism. GRRM's ending will shatter our hearts precisely because his characters and his story have been infused with meaning throughout the entirety of ASOIAF. GRRM is uniquely gifted at writing the feeling of hope despite the unchangeable existence of human suffering, and his ending would ring hollow if it didn't include the tragedy the rest of his story did. But despite whatever sadness the ending provides, it will still have the ever present feeling of hope and human perseverance that has always been the enduring tone of ASOIAF.

#asoiaf meta #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #gothousestark #Sansa Stark #jon snow #arya stark #bran stark #gotsansastark #catelyn stark #ned stark #robb stark #a song of ice and fire

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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Um... /post/188248925631/dick-and-damian-dont-love-each-other-more-than Explain, please. Also curious about your opinion on the Dick and Damian being the mirror of Bruce and Dick, especially things like That scene in Nightwing #20 and fanon's heart nut material that is Dick being Damian's father figure along with brother.

LOL that was a goof post that basically is just another way of me saying “stop making the Batkids have favorites, let them all love and appreciate each other just in different ways.” With the fact that Dick and Damian tend to interact with each other more comfortably than with their other siblings not being proof of favoritism, but rather just...a lot of the same things and experiences appeal to them in very similar ways, so they have plenty of available bonding activities at any given moment.

Like I see them both as adrenaline junkies in a way that say, Tim perhaps isn’t....like Tim isn’t afraid to do any of the things he does as a vigilante, of course, but he’s a more cerebral character, more of a thinker, happy surrounded by computers and data and investigation files as much as anything else...whereas Dick and Damian I both see as very physically oriented people, they like action, danger and excitement that gets their blood pumping and adrenaline going, like....on its own merits.

So they’re like “HELL YEAH, LET’S DO THE THING” when the thing isn’t always the most....logical course of action, but hey, at least they’re not gonna be bored, lol. Y’know?

As far as Dick and Damian mirroring Bruce and Dick....I both agree and disagree with it.

I disagree in the sense that canon and fanon frequently views them as an INVERTED mirror of Bruce and Dick, with Dick as the happy Batman trying to cheer up the brooding Robin Damian, as opposed to when Bruce was the brooding Batman cheered up by his happy Robin Dick.

Because I think that devalues Bruce and Dick’s VERY early relationship, the inception of it, the foundation of their bond....and perhaps ironic given how critical I am of Bruce and his badly written or acted upon parenting a lot of the time....I think this perception of Bruce and Dick undercuts some of Bruce’s BEST times as a parent to Dick, specifically.

Because Bruce WASN’T just a dark, brooding Batman for most of the time Dick was Robin, historically speaking. Before the late 70s/early 80s, which was also around the time they started transitioning Dick out of Batman’s sphere and into his own role as Nightwing and most associated with the Titans, like....before all that, Batman tended to be as silly, tongue in cheek, and yes, even cheerful, as he was at times dark and brooding. Like, in pre-Flashpoint stories that trace back to Dick’s early years, Bruce SMILED, even when in the cowl. He laughed, he joked, he called Dick by personal endearments. He was PATERNAL and affectionate.

And given that in pretty much every version of his origin story, and like....in logical view of the events that unfolded in it....Dick himself did not START as a cheerful, happy go lucky Robin without a care in the world. He was traumatized, he was grieving. Depending on which origin you go with, he had massive trust issues, in all origins he has abandonment issues....early Dick Grayson had a darkness every bit as much as anyone else, because he was a lost and grieving child trying to find his way in the world with his usual support, lifeline, the familiarity that had defined so much of his early life in the form of his parents, his friends, his circus....like all of that was gone, and he had to start over in terms of finding things good and worthwhile in a world that had taken all of that away from him.

And it was Bruce who helped him do that. Who was HIS light, HIS brightness every bit as much as people tend to credit Dick with being his, if not more. Like, I would argue that it was NEVER that Dick made Bruce lighter and happier by simply being himself and always being cheerful and joking. More accurately, I’d suggest that it was more that Dick made Bruce lighter and happier by giving him reason to make a conscious CHOICE to be those things...for Dick’s benefit, specifically, so as to help steer Dick away from becoming a replica of his darkest and most brooding self, by setting a more carefree, light-hearted example for Dick to look at and use to help decide how he wanted to shape himself and what he wanted to shape himself into.

So the irony is, I think Dick and Damian are MORE of a mirror to early Bruce and Dick than people actually deem them to be. That they weren’t actually an inverted mirror, with Dick always playing the role of the cheerful inspiration that brightened his counterpart’s demeanor. I see it as Dick occupying the exact same role Bruce did in Damian’s life, leading him by example, out of his own personal darkness, the way Bruce had once done for him...no matter what differences came between them later in life.

The part where I DO think they’re actually an inverted mirror of Bruce and Dick, is in the paternal bond between Dick and Damian, that fandom highlights so consciously. Its not that Bruce wasn’t paternal, as I said earlier. Its more that like....there was always that slight distance or buffer (that grew as Dick grew older) that came about because of the uncertainty between Dick and Bruce as to what they actually were to each other, what label to use for each other....friend, brother, partner, father/son? And I do firmly believe that as the adult and guardian, it was Bruce’s responsibility to take the lead in establishing what they were to each other...or at least, what they COULD be, if Dick wanted it to be.

Like, I mean, the popular take is that Bruce never adopted Dick as a kid because he didn’t want to replace Dick’s father in his eyes. But like, there’s all of one story in pretty much their entire history when Dick ACTUALLY says anything like that himself...and its back when he’s like, ten or eleven, and they’re trying to keep him in Bruce’s custody and so like, a judge is forcing ten year old Dick to like....put a label to them himself. And Dick is many things, but presumptuous on his own behalf has NEVER been one of them, so I have super negative feelings towards that always being pointed at as why Bruce didn’t adopt Dick as a kid and saying see, it was for Dick’s benefit because he was just doing what Dick wanted....like, no. An orphaned kid who lost everything once, has massive abandonment issues, and ended up taken in by a billionaire who gave him more than he could have imagined....like that kid is NEVER going to be the one to push the envelope and say “hey this isn’t quite enough for me, could you please also adopt me, Bruce, even though you’ve never given me any clear indication that this was okay with you or something you even wanted?”

Like. Its just not realistic. Or fair to put that on the kid, to be the one to open up that avenue for exploration. This is why people who foster or adopt older kids are HEAVILY stressed to make clear to the child like....what their OPTIONS are. Like if they foster them initially, its not presuming anything about the child’s wants to just....make it clear that hey, if this is ever something YOU want, we would be very much open to adopting you and changing our dynamic accordingly, but if not, that’s fine too.

Kids just aren’t going to have the confidence to ASK for that. They’re just not. Especially when they come into the relationship with the kind of emotional baggage and familiarity with total upheaval that Dick had.

So my point being....I don’t think it was ever truly that Dick wanted to not be adopted, or expressed or hinted at that in any way. I think its more likely that Bruce projected his own wants on Dick, based on the fact that he initially identified with him and his circumstances so much, seeing himself reflected in Dick’s tragedy when losing his own parents. I think Bruce’s hesitancy to raise the issue of adoption when Dick was a kid was far more likely to do Bruce assuming Dick wouldn’t want that....because Bruce projected himself into DICK’S shoes, and based on THAT, operated off of what HE would have wanted as a kid....which was to NOT see his parents replaced in any real way, even though Alfred of course was very much a paternal presence throughout his later childhood.

So its not even that Bruce didn’t want to adopt Dick either - I think he very much did. He just told himself that Dick wouldn’t possibly want that, because Bruce couldn’t imagine have wanted that himself when he was Dick’s age, in Dick’s situation. And so Bruce held back from ever really raising it while Dick was a kid, because he was afraid he’d only get rejected if he did....again, just based purely on his personal assumptions and history.

The irony, for me, and why I see this as an inverted mirror to Dick and Damian’s bond....is that I think once Dick was in Bruce’s shoes....he did the EXACT SAME THING BRUCE HAD DONE....just in the other direction. He, just like Bruce had with him...projected himself into Damian’s shoes, and based his decisions off his assumptions about what Damian wanted or would want....which were in turn, based on his memories of what HE had wanted when he was the one in Damian’s position. Which was for Bruce to fully act like a father to him, to not hold back or hesitate or be afraid to step into that role.

So because of that, Dick tried to avoid what he saw as responsible for so much of the distance between him and Bruce - that hesitancy to establish a clear relationship and bond that left no real doubt how either felt - and so he in contrast all but threw himself into the paternal role with Damian...also using it at the same time to hide from his own grief and other issues stemming from Bruce’s death as well as having to be Batman. He EMBRACED being there and available as an actual father figure to Damian, if Damian made moves in that direction - which of course Damian inevitably did, because he was a kid desperately in need of affection, and here Dick was offering it freely and openly.

I think this additionally played into why Dick was so resistant to believing Tim about Bruce - it wasn’t that he didn’t WANT Bruce to be alive or that he didn’t trust Tim or WANT Tim to be right....it was that on some level, because of what he saw as so crucial to being for Damian’s benefit, and to avoiding making the same ‘mistakes’ with Damian that he felt Bruce had made by holding himself back from him at times, emotionally....Dick couldn’t afford to see himself as a placeholder in Damian’s life. Especially not without any guarantees that Bruce actually was alive or could come back....let alone how long that would take to happen. If he did that, accepted that, it would be all to easy to put off establishing that firm presence and role in Damian’s eyes for longer and longer....until one day he might look up and years might have passed and Damian was sixteen and pissed off and moving out because he didn’t know what he was to Dick and Dick was afraid to tell him, because he was afraid of replacing Bruce in Damian’s eyes.

So I think on some level, Dick just couldn’t allow himself to believe Bruce might come back, because if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to commit to what he truly, honestly felt Damian needed him to be, for Damian’s sake.

With the end result being that strong father/son seeming bond between them....and Dick not having ANY clue how to handle it when Bruce DID ultimately come back, and he probably went in his head....oh shit, I fucked up, I replaced Bruce in Damian’s eyes, or at least made it weird or difficult for them...I gotta get 1000 miles away from here STAT, otherwise I’ll fuck things up for them more and they’ll never have the father/son relationship I want them to have and they deserve to have, and it’ll be all my fault. And PS no this does not have anything to do with my devastation that I went all in on this whole ‘treating Damian like my own son’ thing and now I can’t do that anymore, I have no real claim, that’s not my place and I gotta just make my peace with Bruce occupying the role I came to want and love having myself.

*Shrugs* So yeah. All of that.

Oh and also....it does feed my ire on the ‘treating Dick like he’s only sorta Bruce’s son because of the smaller age gap between Dick and Bruce and how young Bruce was when he took Dick in’ front. Because Dick and Damian have just as small an age gap and Dick was pretty much just as young and Damian just as old as Bruce and Dick had been, originally...

And yet notice how fandom has NO trouble characterizing Dick and Damian having an almost father/son dynamic even WITH Bruce still present and even WITH them only having occupied those roles in each other’s lives for a year.

But meanwhile, Dick raised solely by Bruce from ages 8 through the end of his childhood, and some people still can’t wrap their heads around how they could possibly be TRULY a father and son to each other because this reason or that one?

Meh. Sounds fake. Hard pass. LOL.

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kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog · 5 years

Note

Lucky you Mod Kiri, finishing the semester on the 10th. I have at least a month more. Anyway, now that you're offering... can we have some more Naegiri? Don't know what to request exactly (other than even more PMD AU) but I know I'll love it regardless if you're writing it. Although if I had to think of something specific... I don't know, maybe Makoto trying to surprise Kyoko with a gift or something?

You always like to feed my obsession with these two, don’t you? Not that I’m going to complain about it. And you know I’d always be willing to continue the PMD AU.

The opportunity this request presented however, was too good to pass up on.

She recognized the look on his face from the moment he walked in to her office. The sheepish, slightly nervous smile, the hand scratching at his cheek, the apologetic gleam in his eye. All of it.

She knew exactly what it meant.

“Hey, Kyouko,” he greeted. He moved to the side where she sat and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, which she gave a small smile at. “So… I think I need your help wi-“

“What did you lose this time?” She interrupted, still looking down at what she was writing.

“H-hey!” He sputtered. “What makes you think-! I mean… why is that your first guess?”

“Because the last three times you’ve come here with those exact words was because you’d lost something and wanted help finding the object in question,” She reminded him, tone remaining flat.

“T-true, I’ll give you that.” He said, scratching at his cheek again. “B-but it’s not like that’s the only reason I’d ever ask for your help with something. It could be about something else.”

“True. It very well could,” she conceded. Then, she finally glanced over at him. “So?”

“‘So?’” he echoed. “So what?”

She turned her head fully to better look at him. “Why do you need my help this time? If it’s not for locating something you misplaced, then what is it?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“…”

“…Ok fine, yes I lost something.” He finally admitted, his face turning a bright shade of red. The urge to laugh at the downright adorable look on his face was too great, and she let out a chuckle at his embarrassed expression. “Kyouko…” He let out a whine and dropped his gaze to his shoes, shuffling a bit on his feet.

“Makoto, you know I don’t mind helping you when this happens. I just would’ve thought that you wouldn’t get so embarrassed about asking by this point with how often it happens is all,” she reassured him.

“I know, I know…” he muttered, still staring holes into the floor.

She shook her head at him, suppressing another laugh. She then stood up from her desk and started to move toward the door.

“Your office, I presume?”

“…Yeah,”

“And what exactly am I looking for this time?” She looked back at him as she opened the door and stepped out.

He let out an ‘ah’ sound and practically ran to catch up with her as she held open the door. “Ah, thanks Kyouko!” He quickly fell in line walking next to her. “And as for what it is it’s… kinda hard to describe it? It’s kind of a small, dark… thing?” He frowned, trying to use his hands to draw out the shape. When that failed, he let them drop to his sides and gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I know that’s really vague. B-but! I think you’d recognize it when you see it at least!”

“Hm…” she hummed. They fell into silence after that, he only sounds between them being their quiet footsteps. It was a nice change of pace from the chaotic noise usually heard within the hallways. With school having finished for the day hours ago, she and Makoto were the only ones still here.

Still, she couldn’t enjoy the quiet too much; her mind was already racing with thoughts from what he’d mentioned. A hand came to her chin as she went over his descriptions again. Something small, dark, and easily recognizable to her… not exactly much to go on. And very bizarre to hear from him.

It was strange he was so unspecific about it, he was normally a lot better with giving her details than that. She gave him another quick side glance to see him fidgeting with his fingers as they walked, his gaze pointed squarely in front of them, almost as if to avoid her own. He was still this wound up about it? She could understand him feeling a little guilty about asking her for her help in this again—that was normal for him—but this was excessive even for his standards.

Did this have to do with the item in question? But what could he have lost that would make him this anxious? She couldn’t think of anything he had that he could have lost that would make him this frazzled—unless of course, he was nervous because it was something she didn’t know about. But he hated hiding things from her, and he was terrible at it to boot, so what-

“You know, I still find it weird walking in these hallways after all this time,” his voice suddenly cut through her musing. “It looks so different now but… I still can’t shake off how familiar it feels. The good and bad.”

Deciding to put her other thoughts on the backburner, she gave a nod. “I understand. I feel the same some days.” She let her hand run along the wall as they turned the corner, closing her eyes for a moment.

Though the structure of the school had remained the same, much of the school, if not all of it had been completely redone. Even in spite of that, there were some days where it was difficult not to get lost in the memories from their lives in these wall, both before and after the Tragedy. Some days, the sickly smell of death that she knew had long gone lingered just a little too strongly on the walls.

“…We’ve been through a lot in these hallways, haven’t we? In this school.”

It wasn’t a question. “We have.”

“…Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“I mean, ever coming to Hope’s Peak in the first place,” he motioned around them. “So much happened because of this place and… sometimes I just wonder about it, y’know?” He gave a shrug as he met her eyes again. “Was just curious if you ever did too.”

She had given the idea a passing thought or two over the years, but…

“I prefer not to dwell on the what-could-have-beens,” she answered, running a hand through her hair. She tucked a few loose strands behind her ear. “There’s no way to make them real by this point. I think it’s best to move forward without lamenting about regrets.”

Makoto let out a soft laugh. “I thought you’d say something like that. It’s just like you to think practically about it.”

“Hm, and what about you then?” She asked. He drummed his fingers n his thigh for a moment, seeming to be collecting his thoughts.

“I… do think about regrets I have sometimes. Most of all about how I wish I’d never dragged my family into any of what we went through; they didn’t deserve that, any of them. And sometimes I think about those kind of regrets a lot. But…” His face hardened with resolve, and he looked back at her with a brilliant smile. “Then I think of the good that came from me going to Hope’s Peak. All the friends I made, the memories with them that I’ll always cherish. About all the good I get to do now, even if I wish the situation as a whole was better. And, most importantly… I know that if I never went to Hope’s Peak, I never would have gotten to meet you. And I could never regret getting to do that.” He reached down for one of her gloved hands, intertwining their fingers together. “I’d go through it all again if I had to just to do that again

Almost immediately she felt her face warm at that. She ran her free hand through her hair again as she looked toward the window to attempt to avoid his eyes. She could practical feel the grin he was wearing. “Of course you’d answer in such a sentimental way. You’re just as much of an open hearted optimist as always I see.” She said, though she was well aware the words were undercut by the twitch of her lips. His grip on her hand tightened in a light squeeze which she soon returned.

He laughed. “What else would you expect from me? It’s what I do best, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is a part of your charm. How else would you have managed to convince to most reclusive person in our class to warm up to you without it?” She folded her arms across her chest and smirked at him. He gave a sheepish expression and rubbed at the back of his head.

They stopped in front of the door to his office. He reluctantly retracted his hand from hers, then rushed forward to open the door for the both of them, letting her enter first. She acknowledged it with a nod, then set to work analyzing his office for anything out of place or off. She moved toward the side to get a better overall view of the room. Her hand went to her chin as she took in the details.

Makoto trailed behind her, not unlike how he would when they were trapped here all those years ago. “I’d say it makes us quite the pairing then, wouldn’t you? The difference between our personalities?” He offered. “I think it balances us out pretty well, me being the optimistic one who believes in people and you being the more reality, logic based one.”

“Is that how he sees us?” She silently wondered. She couldn’t say it was inaccurate, he certainly helped be able to believe in people, even if only a fraction more. Instead of verbalizing that, she nodded, still scanning over the room. “I suppose it does, yes.”

…Over there. A shadow caught her eye near the window. On his desk, partially obscured by a stack of papers that he probably needed to sign and his computer monitor, there was something there. She hadn’t seen it when they walked because of the angle, but from here it was quite clear, and it seemed to match what little descriptives he’d given.

“Odd though. He would’ve been able to see it sitting there,” she noted. There would have been nothing blocking his view of it from behind the desk. Unless he was just that unobservant.

…Which to be fair, he certainly had his moments.

She once again decided not to voice that thought and instead started to walk toward his desk.

He stayed where he was standing by the door. “I think it’s part what’s made us such an effective team over the years with all that we’ve done. From before the Tragedy, to the killing school life, to our work with the Future Foundation and the Neo World Program, and to now with restarting Hope’s Peak.” He continued, a few nerves creeping into his voice, but otherwise remaining strong. “A-and I hope that it will continue to be that way, don’t you? For a long time?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she answered carefully, giving a quick glance behind her at him. This seemed like a strange time to be bringing this up. She stopped right at the edge of his desk and started moving some papers out if the way to get a better look.

“A-ah, that’s great! I hope so too. But uh… if you don’t mind me asking… how long do you consider a ‘long time’?”

“What do you-“ The question died in her throat when her eyes finally fell onto the object she’d been looking for. She felt her breath hitch.

It was a box. A small, darkly colored box, that she most certainly recognized the most common use for.

She struggled to retain her normal composure as the implications of what was happening hit her full force. “He couldn’t be… he’s not…. this isn’t…!” Her thoughts trailed off until they were nothing more than jumbled static in her head. This couldn’t be what she thought it was. This couldn’t be the reason for his nerves, no!

Her other hand started to move shakily toward the box before she was aware of what she was doing. She had to know. She could be jumping to conclusion. It could be something else entirely. With trembling fingers she grabbed hold of the box, then opened it up.

She almost dropped it.

It was a ring.

“…because I was kinda thinking that long time could mean… permanently,” Makoto finished. She turned to look at him, but found him much lower than she normally had to look. He was on one knee. Her normal, cool and controller mask shattered completely. A hand shot to her mouth to keep the gasp from getting out. Something pricked at the corner of her eyes.

“Kyouko… I know I kinda already said this but… you’ve been such an important part of my life through everything we’ve seen; I don’t think I’d still be here if not for all that you’ve done for me. We’ve stood together through so much and I know we’ll continue to for the years to come. You’re just so incredible and amazing and I just… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I hate to reuse your own words but…” He took in a deep breath, shoulder heaving, before flashing another pure, genuine smile at her. “Will you always stay by my side?”

Kyouko Kirigiri knew many things about herself. She was not often one to enjoy being surprised. Or to allow herself to show much emotion, let alone tears. Or to find herself at a loss for words.

And yet, as she stood in front of the man who, as he’d stated in his own words, she’d been through so much with together, she found all three occuring. A smile that she could not fight off, nor wanted to, worked its way onto her face from behind her glove. Tears began to fall from her eyes as she rapidly nodded her head, too overwhelmed with emotion to trust her voice to work.

Makoto let out a joyful laugh and rose up from where he’d been kneeling, wobbling a bit as tears began to fall from his own eyes. He practically tackled her as he enveloped her into a tight embrace. She practically collapsed into his arms, head resting on his shoulder.

He leaned closer to her ear. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, you have no idea.” They pulled away from the hug and looked at one another.

She let out a shuddering breath to collect herself. “Did you anticipate I’d reject it?” she asked with an amused, still slightly watery smile.

“N-no, not necessarily but… I did worry about how I was gonna say it all. I may or may have not rehearsed that a lot… And maybe kinda still went off script on a lot of it…” He scratched the back of his head with a sheepish look. “…I sounded like a total dork while saying all that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes you did,” she laughed. She took hold of his face and pointed it towards her. He gave her a shy smile before she bent down to kiss him. He took hold of one of her hands and threaded their fingers together.

He was a complete and utter dork, but she wouldn’t have him any other way.

And she couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for them next.

#Mod Kirigiri #naegiri #Makoto Naegi #Kyoko Kirigiri #Kyouko Kirigiri #danganronpa #danganronpa 3 #fluff #let them be disgustingly fluffy together damnit

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douxreviews · 5 years

Text

Legends of Tomorrow - ‘Hey, World!’ Review

"Yeah, this innocent moment where kids aren’t afraid? It’s resonating with people."

I'm not crying. You're crying.

Apologies, this is a long one. I had a lot to process.

So, that was season four of Legends of Tomorrow, that was.

I've been wrestling with how I feel about this one for a few days longer than I wanted to due to an internet outage, and I'm still not entirely sure, outside of the fact that it absolutely made me cry at least twice.

I think, ultimately, the season four finale felt much less focused and more sprawling that last year's 'The Good, The Bad, and The Cuddly.' That's not necessarily a bad thing. 'I'm not sure where they're going with this' is one of the holy grails as far as audience responses go, but only if you're also communicating the impression that you, the showrunner, do.

It might be useful to compare this year's finale with last year's in terms of one specific aspect. Specifically, how they both used the various plot coupons from the earlier episodes of the season as plot elements in the season's resolution. In season three, the main 'phlebotinums' of the season were the six totems, and of course Beebo. The season was structured around introducing those seven items, and then showing us how they could be combined correctly to resolve the season's villain. And it involved a giant stuffed animal on demon ninja fight, which was awesome.

The fact that it was the combination of those earlier plot coupons that resolved the issue made that resolution feel nicely focused and the natural ending for the season. And further, because they had the solid structural underpinning they also could also bring back Helen of Troy, and Blackbeard, and a random Viking or two for a fun callback. They had already demonstrated that the callback references to previous episodes were there for a justifiable purpose, which meant that they could throw a few frivolous ones in without hurting anything.

This season's callbacks felt much less structured and integral to the final resolution, and so they felt a little more gratuitous.

This kind of dovetails into the real problem this episode has, and it's one that you might have heard me mention before. Sing along in the back if you know the words; This should have been three episodes.

Because what the show was clearly interested in getting to was the big final showdown between the abstract power of fear and the abstract power of love. Which is great, and once they got there was fabulous. I swear I'll get around to saying positive things in a minute or two. Everything after Nate creates the circus using the book from 'Tagumo Attacks!!!' is paced perfectly. The eventual sacrifices were both foreshadowed to the exact right degree and were staggered with precision, the onset of Zari's tragedy coming right where it should at the moment we'd begun to exhale after Nate's resurrection. However, that good pacing comes in at about halfway through the episode's runtime, prior to which we'd been sprinting flat out to get all of the pieces in place for the final confrontation as quickly as we possibly can.

So, in the space of the first few minutes we go from Neron wanting to rule Hell as his motive to Neron wanting to collect fear, which kind of undercuts the clever terms of service reveal last week, but whatever. Then he apparently overthrows the Triumvirate anyway during the commercial break, as John speaks of it to Astra as a fait accompli. Then he doesn't want the fear itself, per se, but wants to use it to open a gateway to Hell so that they can come here for him to rule.

That feels like three solid end of episode reveals that we could have been wowed by over the course of three individual episodes. Because the evolution of his plan doesn't not make sense, if you follow me, it just evolves way, way too quickly to track well, and clearly only matters to get that final pit opening scene in the circus properly set up.

And hey, on that note, one of those three episodes could have been the 'Mick stealing the book of Brigid back from the Time Bureau' story that we were robbed of here. Honestly, they literally cut from Ava saying 'That will be super hard to steal' to Mick walking in holding the book saying, 'No, I totes already stole it, lets move on with the plotline.' That's just profoundly lazy plotting, and I get that it wasn't their fault, and that they didn't have any choice because the reduced episode count was never going to allow time for 'Mick-sion Impossible,' but it jars badly in context. And damn it, I totally just gave them the perfect episode title for it. I demand that they film it and include it as a DVD extra.

It honestly feels like they zipped through the first half of plot mechanics at least partially because they wanted to invest a lot of time setting up season five and it came at the expense of the season four wrap up. I specifically refer to the whole thing with the soul token/coin thing. As the episode was unfolding it felt like they were spending a lot of screen time setting up the mechanics of Hell's soul exchange which could have been time better spent telling the story at hand. At the conclusion, of course, we get the reveal of Astra and her menagerie of stolen coins, setting her and them up as the villains of next season. Which is, to be fair, a cool premise. Notice that we only saw a handful of the names on those coins, which means they can still turn out to be just about anyone. Dare I hope that the name Damien Darhk turns out to be on one of them?

Okay. We've danced around it long enough. Let's talk about Zari. First off, a big acknowledgement of how wrong I was in my review of the last episode where I mentioned that they were probably never going to get around to addressing the whole future dystopia thing. No, turns out that they were going to use its resolution as one of the foundations of season five. I should have had more faith. Second, a big shout out to percysowner, who opined in the comments thread last week that perhaps Zari would imprint on the dragon and that would undo the future dystopia. If you're reading this, percysowner, I publicly acknowledge that you read that situation much better than I did.

I genuinely thought they were killing off both Zari and Nate, I honestly did. I clocked the Nate/Constantine swap exactly when the show wanted me to, which was a satisfying and heartbreaking payoff to the Neron situation. It worked because Nate sacrificing himself and John telling Nate about the deal so that he would make the choice to do so is just so entirely on brand for both of them.

Also on brand; Zari leaving the safety of the ship to be with Nate when he died. Their final embrace before she faded away was a truly heartbreaking moment. I totally take back my earlier misgivings about their relationship. Similarly touching, Nate's farewell conversation with Hank in the rafters. I'm on record as not being a huge fan of Hank, but setting that aside, the callback to his James Taylor moment was well judged here, and I'm happy for Nate that he got that little bit of closure. Oh, and that he gets to still be alive.

So, Zari is out there somewhere living her life never having met the Legends, and in her place we have her brother Berhad, which explains why they went to such extraordinary lengths to get rid of the necklace earlier and turn it into a manly fitbit of power.

One parting thought on this change, as heartbreaking as it feels right now. Zari as we know her has left the show, but Tala Ashe has not. Apparently the Zari they find next season is going to be very different. And let's not forget that we're only a few months away from Crisis on Infinite Earths, in which all of reality is going to be put through a meat grinder and reformed on the other side. I have to believe we haven't seen the last of Zari.

Caity Lotz' impression of Melissa Benoist - Hysterical, and just a little bit mean.

Everybody remember where we parked.

This week we were all about Washington D.C in 2019 and Hell. Assuming that those are in fact two different places.

Insert drum snare.

Quotes:

Ogre: "Ha ha! Ogre wins again!" Mick: "Cheating bastard!"

Calibraxis: "Who the hell are you?" Nora: "Really? The dress doesn’t sell it?"

Nate: "I would have said ‘Zari, Zari, you smell like calamari’. … Bullying is bad."

Astra: "Nice sparkles." Nora: "Nice shoulderpads."

Ne-Ray: "We will make Earth Hell again." Subtle, show.

Mona: "Stay calm, they smell fear." Gary: "What if fear is my natural scent?"

Mick: "Give it back when you’re done. Buck and Garima’s sexual odyssey is far from over."

Zari: "Guys, I feel like that would have worked a little bit better with the real trinity." Sara: "Yeah, well, I asked and they said hard pass." Nate: "We should have done the crossover."

Vandal Savage: "Oh, I love those groovy guys."

Bits and Pieces:

-- It's a little hard to believe that all the magical creatures are down with behaving themselves now. Mike the Spike inside the puppet Stein was a serial killer, after all.

-- Also, is it just me or did the Legends just let all of the magical creatures just sort of wander off between the show and the dragon battle? Are we just not worried about them anymore?

-- It makes sense idiomatically in the US, but John Constantine wouldn't have phrased Nora using her fairy powers to get into the demon vault as 'poofing her way in.' That would mean something very different in the UK, and kind of implies that she'd somehow be getting into the vault through the magic of gay sex. Which is magical, sure, but not in a way that would be helpful in this situation. I don't know, maybe he was just going for an oblique 'fairy' joke.

-- It was fun seeing Vandal Savage and Ray bonding over Jenga, but again I kind of wonder if that wouldn't have been time better spent elsewhere.

-- It was a bad idea to bait and switch people into coming to Heyworld thinking it would be all about superheroes. I wish they'd handled that a little better.

-- Why did Mithra the dragon, who sadly never got to know the name Wixstable, turn back into a baby after eating Tabitha?

-- Nora and Gary now have the same kind of power symbiosis that Jax and Stein had, when you think about it.

-- I like them, I enjoy Wolfie, and I've enjoyed most of their plotlines this year, but it wouldn't break my heart if Mona and Gary had transferred to the Cleveland branch before the beginning of next season. We just have too many people. That's one of the reasons I believed they'd killed Nate.

-- We're all on the same page that only Mick, Sara, and Ray are non-negotiable members of the team, right? Like, I'd miss Nate, but I'd get over it.

-- How famous is Ray Palmer, exactly? Last year he was obscure enough to be working at Upswipes, and now he's working senate sub-committee hearings.

-- Lovely little cameo by The Monitor, just chilling back and eating popcorn at Heyworld. That's a little less momentous than his other finale appearances, but it was a nice reminder that the Crisis is looming. Also, it was funny.

Magical creatures? Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine.

A big, sprawling season finale with lots of good bits and a little less focus and time to breath than it could have used. That kind of sums up season four as a whole, actually.

Three out of four James Taylor sing-a-longs.

And that brings us to the end of another Legends season. It's been a blast as always, see you all in the fall, when I hopefully will not have two other shows also running at the same time that the Waverider takes off.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Legends of Tomorrow #Sara Lance #John Constantine #Ray Palmer #Ava Sharpe #DC Comics #Arrowverse #Legends of Tomorrow Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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emblem-333 · 5 years

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What-If Verne Gagne Made Hulk Hogan Champion?

The Era of The Territories died before I was born. There’s pros and cons to their execution. Up until Vince McMahon gobbled up the industry like Pac-Man devouring dots there were multiple regional territories with their own established stars. The Carolinas has Ric Flair. Tennessee has Jerry “The King” Lawler. Texas featured the Von Erichs. They would run their respective territories, sometimes wander beyond and do inter-promotional programs typically ending in disqualifications to save face. Back in those days, before television really changed the landscape, promoters could getaway with jerking around their fans with constant indecisive finishes. Chances are the people who paid the ticket price to see the action were the only ones who are ever going to see it.

Ever heard of “The Dusty Finish,” well get a load of what Verne Gagne of the American Wrestling Association put his customers through in the early eighties. Gift wrapped Hulk Hogan after Vince Sr canned the star for appearing in the film “Rocky III” Verne took the young Hogan under his wing teaching him almost all of what would make him the monolith he’d become. Gagne told Hogan to not drop down after one drop kick. Telling him it should take three or more to take him off his legs. Gagne molded Hogan into a monster in the ring. Initially, Hulk was supposed to be a featured heel like during his days in the WWF. But his charisma compounded by his cameo in “Rocky III” endeared him to fans of the Minneapolis based wrestling promotion. And in a few short months Hogan found himself in the title picture feuding with the long toothed, well read heel Nick Bockwinkel.

Bockwinkel had entered his fifties earlier in the 1980s, but you couldn’t have guessed his age if you only watched him in the ring. He always kept himself in tip-top shape, didn’t party all night like Ric Flair. He was a clean cut, midwestern man who Verne still entrusted to safeguard his companies most prized possession even late into his career. Bockwinkel before Hogan and after had great matches I highly recommend you check out. Preferably his one-hour marathon against a young, babyface, Curt Hennig. Yeah. Mr. Perfect was once in the AWA. So was “Mean Gene” Okerlund. Bobby “The Brain” Heenan. Scott Hall. Wendi Richter. Jesse Venture. All would become heavily featured players in the WWF/WCW when NWA fizzled.

Though Hogan was the star, and his current champ Bockwinkel was nearing fifty, Verne was hesitant - and later would outright say he didn’t see the 29-year-old as championship material or a prop he didn’t even need. Either Verne is lying or he poorly read the changing wrestling with the invention of television. The era of the babyface chasing the dastardly heel forever and ever was over. Promoters needed to shift towards more decisive finishes and book accordingly or face the same consequences Verne swallowed which squashed his once flourishing company. It’s quite the tragedy too. Verne knew his wrestling and could spot talent. Same could be said about Dusty Rhodes. At the end of the day what carries you over in a wrestling war isn’t talent, but business-savvy.

In his better days, McMahon knew sometimes it was better to go with what the fans wanted rather than persist with what he thought was right. He pulled the shoot on The Ultimate Warrior, ultimately giving way to the rise of Bret Hart, and Shawn Michaels. He later would do the same in the late-90s with “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. Neither were Vince’s cup of tea in what he perceived as championship material, but what mattered to him most was the all mighty dollar. But old Verne wasn’t as flexible and never really was. Come April 1983 he knew the long-standing Hogan/Bockwinkel had run its course and it was time to bestow the honor of champion to the younger star. Problem was, Verne couldn’t see beyond Hulk was a power wrestler, not too big on finesse and mat-style which was the makeup of the AWA. There’s also elements in this story that make Verne come off as a shitty, grubby businessman, and a downright creep. First, he demanded the bulk of Hogan’s merchandising sales (Hogan was printing his “Hulkamania” shirts and selling them outside of a trunk during House Shows) and his money he made wrestling for Japan; even though Verne had nothing to do with that promotion.

Actually, there might be some logic in Verne wanting a substantial cut in the money Hogan made overseas. See, he wrestled for a promotion called New Japan Pro-Wrestling. Verne had a partnership with a man named Shohei Baba — he would wrestle under the synonym “Giant Baba.” Baba worked as a promoter of All Japan Pro-Wrestling. The chief competitor of NJPW. Verne probably figured if he could squeeze Hogan for his NJPW paycheck he’d kick it to Giant Baba and subsequently AJPW and undercut the other promotion in the process.

The logic in Verne wanting the money though is nonexistent. Like McMahon when The Rock left the WWF to takeover Hollywood, he saw it fit to demand a chunk of his talent’s paycheck. Why? Because Vince McMahon made The Rock. Everyone knows that! Except he didn’t. The Rock made The Rock. In the wrestling world it doesn’t matter whether the boss acknowledged your existence before you made it big. All that mattered was he signed you to your deal and deserves the credit for those long hours you put in to climbing the ladder. Forget the fact that if it were up to Vince The Rock would have never turned heel, join The Nation of Domination and save his fledgling career.

I guess Verne can feel a little more secure in his belief he made Hogan into what he became. After all, he did instill the in-ring tactics that would carry him to superstardom. Regardless, the money Hogan made working NJPW was his, and it wasn’t like the AWA wasn’t doing gangbusters at House Shows and well in the black thanks to him.

The creepy aspect of this story was Verne was trying to set Hogan up with his daughter. Why? Well, he viewed the AWA as a family business and for whatever reason he didn’t trust his son, Greg, to succeed him so to keep the promotion in the family he wanted his champion to marry into it. You don’t believe me? In 1988 Larry Zbyszko marries Verne’s daughter. In February of ‘89 he wins the vacant AWA title in a Battle Royal.

It’s dysfunction like this is how you get an atmosphere like the one in the St. Paul Civic Center, the crowd absolutely becomes unglued as “Eye of the Tiger” roars through the speakers as the beach blonde haired heroine marches down the isle filled with purpose. He wears a black shirt that says “We Want The Belt” and on the back “Now Or Never.” You don’t get more prophetic than that last statement. Now or Never, Verne, and he chose Never. Hogan didn’t win the strap that night in St. Paul, and would soon leave the AWA. While the promotion enjoyed a few successful years before going defunct in 1991, you can trace their fall to “Super Clash” nine-years before.

So what-if Verne wasn’t a character out of a Leon Trotsky Socialist manifesto novel? What-if he just let Hogan keep his money and gave him the belt? Would the AWA still be around today? Hard to say, but I’m going to veer on the side of no. Hogan parading around with the AWA strap isn’t going to deter Vince from courting Hogan. We’re talking about the man who tried to convince Harley Race to no-show Starrcade ‘83 and take the NWA belt to his promotion.

One of the few ways Verne and the territories could have kept the bad wolf of New York from their doors was if they handed together to take him on. But nobody took the threat seriously until it was too late to sufficiently combat it. Another scenario is Ted Turner up and buys AWA with the NWA to form WCW. Having Turner on the wrestling scene against Vince was like Godzilla vs Mothra. WCW only started turning rotten when the Time Warner/AOL merger pushed Turner out of an influential role with the company. A more feasible scenario is Verne and Greg simply accept Vince’s offer he made at the St. Paul airport before turning around and exclaiming “I don’t negotiate”. But, if they did merge with the WWF the fate of the AWA is probably similar to Stu Hart and his Stampede Wrestling promotion. Their talent pool would be severely depleted and the promotion transforming from something that is on par — if not superior to the WWF to nothing more than a minor league farm system for New York to routinely pluck talent from.

If Hulk Hogan of all people suddenly become the most loyal person in the business and remained a stalwart of the AWA he arguably has a greater cast of heels to run through than he did in his first run as champion in the WWF. Stan Hansen, Leon White (A.K.A Vader), Larry Zbyszko, Curt Hennig, Jerry Lawler. While it’s highly questionable whether Hansen and Lawler would be willing to job to Hogan because of their value to other promotions, their feuds still print money at the gates and perhaps fans are just so happy to see Hogan as champion they don’t mind the constant string of D.Q finishes.

What does McMahon do? Rumor was his second choice was Paul Orndorff. A very good, if not great heel wrestler that is commonly forgotten due to the fact he jobbed to Hogan throughout the eighties. But Vince is more creative than that. He had to have an ace up his sleeve of Hogan alluded his grasps. Ric Flair? The Von Erichs? Maybe he pulls the trigger and makes Roddy Piper or Ricky Steamboat champion? Steamboat was only 31 by the time Iron Sheik beat Bob Backlund for the belt to set the table for Hogan. But Vince didn’t like skinny, short guys as his main champion. It’s why you see wrestlers like Daniel Bryan constantly marginalized despite showing time after time he can main event.

The AWA gave the wrestling world countless stars that would make this article too long if I were to list them all. But, like most promoters in the territory era, Verne had a limited grasp on how to maximize his profits and couldn’t see behind his own biases and greed.

#AWA #Wrestling #Hulk Hogan #Nick Bockwinkel #Verne Gagne #Vince McMahon #WWF #WWE #NWA #1980s #Minnesota #St.Paul #AWA Super Sunday #what if #alternate universe #free coinage of silver

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the-wonder-duo · 6 years

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Weekly Update #2

I’m afraid that we may have skipped one or two of these; we’ve been a little busy as of late. However, I wanted to take the time to post an update of all the things that have happened since the last time a weekly update post was made— just to fill in any newcomers on what’s been going on recently, or to refresh any of our other fans on the latest going-ons.

Without further ado, here’s some of the important things that have happened over the past few weeks:

The remains of Pro Hero InvisaInk was discovered deep beneath the city in a Quirk shelter. InvisaInk will be greatly missed by his friends and family. He was a beloved Pro Hero and a good man to all who had the fortune to have met him.

Ground Zero and I, among several other reputable heroes, are currently working with the Hero Police Force to find whoever is responsible for this tragedy and bring them to justice.

At Kiyashi Mall, the #standNOW movement took place not long afterwards, in honor of InvisaInk, to support Generation Now. The event was interrupted by an attack of more than fifty villains; Ground Zero was responsible for apprehending the majority of these criminals.

The tag #symbolofvictory began to trend on social media as stories of Ground Zero’s fierceness in the midst of combat spread; our publicist saw fit to change Ground Zero’s tagline from “The Explosion Hero” to “The Symbol of Victory.”

In my opinion, Ground Zero truly has earned this namesake; he’s always shone so brightly, he’s blinding.

After we returned home from attending InvisaInk’s funeral, I... discovered Kacchan sitting in the shower, bleeding from washing his arms with a stainless steel scrubbing pad.

He is continuing to undergo professional treatment for this breakdown.

Maintaining one’s mental health is important for Professional Heroes— maintaining one’s mental health is important for everyone. Please seek help if you’re considering self-harm; there is no shame in seeking professional assistance. One wouldn’t ignore a broken arm; please don’t ignore any mental ailments.

I talked a little about my biggest regret.

I made Kacchan breakfast for his birthday, and we went hiking together! I gave him my present; I commissioned a pair of hearing aids from our support support items developer.

Instead of just allowing Kacchan to hear more clearly, there are a few settings that will have Kacchan to have an incredible sense of hearing; he’ll be able to pick up on conversations that are taking place from several meters away. In addition, he’ll be able to render any nearby audio recording devices— reporters snooping and such, he always gets so annoyed with those —useless, and whoever’s listening in would get quite the nasty screech in return.

In short, the hearing aids allow Zero to “kill with his ears.”

I brought Zero back to our cabin in the woods, and our friends surprised him with a birthday party! We all spent the night there.

Kirishima-kun even managed to snap a picture of Kacchan and I, ah, sleeping together.

I gave Kacchan another massage. To my surprise, he demanded to massage me, instead.

It felt, ah. Nice. Eventually, I fell asleep.

A package containing InvisaInk’s heart was sent to Kacchan with the rest of his birthday gifts.

Kacchan isn’t looking for true love. I am.

When I found out that Kacchan was sharing personal information with someone else in our private messages, I was a little... upset after they’d taunted me with that information. Kacchan refused to tell me what the conversation had been about after asking me to step in once they’d flirted a little too much with him, and we got into a... squabble of sorts. The fight escalated, and I stormed out of the apartment after some heated words were exchanged.

Kacchan always causes me to say the most heated things! He’s so infuriating.

Kacchan also, ah. Apologized.

And admitted that he’d been talking about his, um. Personal habits. In the shower. In short, he’d been occasionally using his shower time to masturbate.

Which is perfectly healthy!

Everyone does it!

Even me!

Oh god.

I’m going to shut up now.

Anyways.

Kacchan found me and actually carried me back to the apartment after throwing me over his shoulder. Which was really quite unnecessary! He even jostled me a bit when I was trying to update you all on what was happening.

Tumblr user @rivie-arts managed to snap a picture of it.

The internet... went a little crazy with that information. Our publicist will never forgive us. Our blog has likely been denounced on every parental watch list that exists.

I was hit with a inhibition-lowering Quirk; I said... quite a few blatant remarks during this time.

I’m very sorry for this behavior, and I apology to anyone that I may have offended with my unfiltered commentary.

We consented to attend the Museum of Nature and Science’s Annual Spring Gala (as an apology to our publicist) along with fellow Pro Heroes Creati, Celsius, and Red Riot. We also agreed to interview a set of guests, although our publicist refused to tell us who these guests would actually be.

No matter what Quirk you may have, or if you may not have a Quirk at all— you matter.

Ground Zero talked a little about the tumultuous aspects of our shared pasts and discussed why he still calls himself a hero in spite of his behavior back then; I pointed out that even when I thought that Kacchan was a jerk (to be honest, I still think that he is) I still found him to be amazing and inspiring. Now, of course, I think that he’s even more.

To my surprise, Kacchan cut his hair for the gala; he now sports an undercut. I think that it suits him.

We attended the gala; Ground Zero danced with Tumblr user @exoticjizz while he was there, who goaded him into allowing him to, ah. Grope his butt. In public.

I, ah. Came to check up on him. And interrupted them a little.

And decided to dance with him myself.

A picture was snapped of this, too.

We left early and went to an arcade together. I won! Since we’d made a deal that the loser would buy the winner a prize at the exchange counter with their tickets later on, Ground Zero bought an All Might toy ring for me.

We interviewed the guests that our publicist had chosen for us, which turned out to be a group of fans that, ah, “shipped” us, and who had collaborated together to create a fanzine called Mirrors. One of the categories of this fanzine featured “BakuDeku,” which is, as we admittedly know, our ship name.

Here’s a link to the transcript, which was typed in real time by our publicist.

No, we don’t know why our publicist chose this particular set of fans to interview. Although it was strange to see, ah, artwork and stories of ourselves like, ah, that, the fans were very nice, and clearly very talented!

If you’d like to pre-order a copy of the zine, please see this post, which also includes a coupon for a special gift!

Neither of us have any plans for having children; our jobs and aspirations would not allow us to put that child first, and children deserve to come first. Unfortunately, it’s unlikely that either of us will ever have the time needed to devote to a child.

I like to massage Kacchan, because I want to help Kacchan feel good. He carries so much tension sometimes; I want him to know that the weight of the world doesn’t have to rest solely on his shoulders. I’m currently experimenting with different methods to help Kacchan relax.

We are continuing to investigate InvisaInk’s death, and have made progress, though we’re not at liberty to discuss the breakthroughs in the case.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #izukatsu #eventually #we're sorry that we skipped a few weeks #but this should cover everything that's happened since the last update!#i hope this makes things a little easier for you all #weekly update #deku signing in

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nellie-elizabeth · 6 years

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Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: The End (5x22)

I cried so hard. God damn it. I cried SO HARD.

Cons:

So, they weren't sure if they were getting renewed when they wrote and filmed this, right? So it had to feel like a final episode of the show. I get that. But the enormously sweet and touching ending is a bit undercut by the fact that we will be getting more episodes. I really hope that the sixth (and likely last) season of this show is a bit mellower, maybe structured more like an epilogue. I don't want a new big bad to come in and screw everything up, I just want to see maybe a smaller, more localized set of stories with the team, so we can have a nice long while to say goodbye. Time will tell.

I was DEVASTATED by the ending, what with Fitz and Coulson and all of that, but I had a bit of room left in me to be slightly annoyed at the "gotcha" element of that final memorial/celebration. They wanted us to all be shocked by the "twist" that Fitz can be saved, but I just felt manipulated, honestly. If this really had been the final episode, then Fitz's death would have felt like a cheap way to end his character. If everybody else gets cheesy final words, I want some Fitzsimmons cheesy finale stuff too. I know we still have a chance for that now, because the show was renewed, but I'm annoyed that this could have been the end.

Also, two questions: is Deke really gone? Poofed out of existence? That's enormously sad, and it wasn't really addressed at all. Nobody even mentioned him not being there. Are we ever going to see him again? It took me a long time to care about him, and I need more closure there. Secondly, what about the end of Infinity War? Are we just supposed to believe that all of our characters coincidentally didn't get dusted? (Side note - how screwed up would it be if May vanished before Coulson dies? I'm making myself sad just thinking about it). The point is, this show can't ignore Infinity War. The other point is, it's not coming back until summer of 2019, which means the next Avengers movie will have already been released. If they don't address it at all, that's going to annoy me.

Pros:

Okay but you guys Daisy saves the day and it's glorious. Her scene with Talbot was so great. She tries so hard to save him, the way she knows Coulson would want, but in the end she has to be a bad-ass. I was pretty emotional about Talbot's death, even though it was pretty clear that we lost him the minute he went in that gravitonium chamber. Still, I loved how all of the pieces lined up, and everything seemed primed for another repeat of the loop, and then... bam. Coulson's sacrifice and Daisy's determination are enough to change the future. Does it make sense? Probably not. But time travel stuff never does, and I was really satisfied with the way the loop was broken.

Yo-Yo completely broke my heart. I mean, a lot of things completely broke my heart, but let's start with her. She feels so alone, as she tries to argue for breaking the loop, at the expense of Coulson's life. I really liked her line about how she's in a nightmare, screaming, and nobody can hear her. I get that. When you know you're right, but nobody will listen or understand, and you feel so alone? God. That's so tough, and I could really feel what she was going through. Of course, by the end of the episode, she and Mack are firmly reconciled, and that's also really wonderful to see. It's what needed to happen. Those two were always going to make it, no matter what.

So. Like. Let's talk about Fitz. He's always been the biggest skeptic about being able to break the time loop. One of my favorite subtle moments is when Fitz runs up and sees May and Robin hugging. He asks where Mack and Robin's mother are, and when May says, casually, that Mack ran in to the ship to get Robin's mother, Fitz says, quiet and a little scared, that neither of them make it. Meaning, if the loop repeats itself, and at this point they all think Coulson has taken the serum, then Mack is likely about to die. So, of course, they run in to save the day. And... they do! Proof that the loop is beginning to break. But this change comes at a heavy price, as Fitz is buried under collapsing rubble. When Mack and May dig him out, they find that he's basically been cut in half. He dies within minutes. It. Is. Brutal. He's disoriented and scared. I was expecting him to realize what was happening and say some meaningful final words to Mack, or ask them to pass a message to Simmons. That would have been bad enough. But no. Instead of that, he's confused, and he doesn't know that he's dying, and he's repeating himself, and then he's just gone. May and Mack both immediately start crying. Mack holds Fitz's hand in his. It's a gut-wrenching death scene. It was so effective to do it this way, without any epic-ness to it. Simmons isn't even there. It's just mundane. It's just an accident. It just happens.

Of course, if that was really it for Fitz, I'd be rioting. But since I know we can get him back, I'm okay. Still, the fact that some version of Fitz can be saved doesn't erase the tragedy of this death. The Fitz that has been frozen and sent into space is not quite the same Fitz that just died. It's a Fitz that hasn't gotten married, or met his grandson Deke. He hasn't shared in the harrowing and life-changing experiences that the rest of the team have gone through. That's really sad. I'm glad that Fitz's death is going to have some lasting impact on the story and his character.

Okay so Coulson doesn't take the serum and now he's going to die. And this is what breaks the loop, because it means that Daisy has the serum to inject into Talbot and save the day. And I'm devastated. In some ways, I really do hope that Coulson isn't in next season. Maybe not May either, although I'll really miss her. This was just the perfect send-off for his character. This show started because Coulson came back to life. And now, his extra time has ended. That time gave him beautiful relationships with a team of amazing people, and he got to help save the world again and again. And now, he gets to go to Tahiti and spend his final days with May, who has come to accept his decision.

Of course, the goodbye with Daisy is the one that just guts me. He says he wrote her a letter for her to read. Basically it just says how proud he is of her. They hug. Daisy says "I love you." I cried a lot. This father/daughter dynamic between them is everything I ever wanted. I know I say this a lot when reviewing this show, but I think back to how uninteresting I found Skye when the show began, and I can hardly believe how invested I became in her character. I'm proud of her too!

Coulson is the reason this show exists, but he's given his team everything they need to continue fighting the good fight without him. I'm going to miss him so much if he doesn't come back next season. Here's hoping that whatever they come up with for Season Six, it only enhances the beauty of this amazing finale.

9.5/10

#review #agents of shield #agents of shield review #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. review #aos #marvel

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postguiltypleasures · 6 years

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The Magicians Page vs Screen

I recently finished the audio book version of Lev Grossman’s The Magicians trilogy while anticipating the third season of SyFy’s adaptation. I have some thoughts to share, in no particular order.

I should first mention that, in addition to having watched the first two seasons of the TV show, my expectations of the books were colored by reading some reviews, in particular that Emily VanDerWerff whose interpretation of changing perspectives of the narrator’s focus representing growing up and becoming more aware is true in the abstract, but also kind of misleading. The books increase the number of perspectives, but they are still primarily that of Quentin Coldwater. I was under the impression that every chapter in The Magician King would alternate between Quentin and Julia, but it was really more like three chapters from Quentin’s perspective for every one from Julia’s. (I’m going to struggle with my thoughts about Julia’s changing narrative status from page to screen. In general I think the TV show improves things for her. Nothing in the books is as pleasing as her friendship with Kady, she gets her shade back and in general having more time for her point of view is an improvement.) Also in her review she states that the books have very little plot, but that’s only true of the first book in the trilogy. The subsequent ones are tightly paced thrillers.

Around the first season and (not accidentally) the release of Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Vox also published an article about the annoying cliche in sci-if and fantasy fiction in which a male protagonist is helped by a more talented female character who is never allowed to be the protagonist. I tweeted the article and a fan got defensive about how the Quentin/Alice relationship doesn’t fall into the same pattern as that of Luke/Leia, Neo/Trinity, or Harry/Hermione. At the time, I admitted that I had yet to watch or read the full series, but agreed with the larger thesis. This did not assauge the person in my Mentions, but now I want to say, Quentin/Alice is a much stranger, more fraught relationship than the others are allowed to be. (And I love it.)

Also, one thing that appealed to me about the show, is that I caught the start of the second episode after an episode of Lost Girl. It starts with a sequence set to “Intro” by The XX’s from their first album. I had owned the album for years but could never get into it until I saw this sequence. I really like it when one art form brings another to life like this.

Using the audio book version makes the experience time-conscious in a way that reading silently does not. This really struck me with regards to the difference between book and TV Fillory. In the books the clock trees are a very prominent part of Fillory in a way they aren’t in the TV show. TV, as a medium, is already self conscious of time, which made me wonder if the clock trees are a tool to make the reader think of time, which would be redundant in TV. (This is broadcast TV, streaming TV, with it’s less tight running times is an exception, perhaps to its detriment.)

The TV show gave me a sense that the Fillory and Further series-within-the-series was basically The Magicians’s version of Narnia. So I was surprised that in the books we get so much more detail about the plot of the series-within-the-series and resembles a cross between Narnia and Oz. The backstory of the writing also reflects this. I think that in the TV show, the Chatwin kids are in the country due to Operation Peter Pan in World War Two, just as in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. But in the Books, it’s World War One and the kids are in the country because their father is in the war and their mother is indisposed. Between the time change and having the novels within the novel’s author, Christopher Plover be an American expatriate in the English countryside the books feel like they are explicitly placing Fillory as a midpoint between Oz and Narnia.

Incidentally, the name Christopher Plover is reminiscent of Winnie the Pooh’s Christopher Robin who reportedly felt miserable and exploited by his father’s writings. TV series Plover is English and played by Charles Shaughnessy of The Nanny fame, which feels like calculated way of enhancing the affect of his abuse of Martin Chatwin.

The TV series Fillory may lose some of the direct links to Oz, but its attitude about growing up is closer to Oz than Narnia.

There was a lot of criticism about how the TV show’s pilot was overstuffed and muddled, so I was surprised that so much of the information that had to be communicated in the pilot is exposed early in the first book.

On the other hand, The Beast’s first appearance and Alice’s backstory with her brother are brought up much faster in the TV show. In the case of Alice, her story definitely has more impact and pathos in the way it’s brought up in the book, so that’s a loss on TV. But I do really like bringing the threat of the Beast up so quickly.

One of the most surprising differences between the Books and TV series is that in the Books, the first trip to Fillory is made just because they can (and because they need something to shake themselves out of their post-graduation lethargy). On the TV show it’s because the Beast is regularly threatening them. TV really isn’t a great medium for portraying lethargy, it isn’t intimate in the way reading is. Quentin isn’t sympathetic in the events leading up to the trip to Fillory in the books, but you’re in his head, so you’re with him. Then the key act of Quentin cheating on Alice in a threesome with Eliot and Janet/Margot comes off very differently in the two media. In the Books it’s a personal nadir and a major betrayal. It’s compounded by the fact that Quentin was thinking about Janet while feeling frustrated with Alice. On the Show, it mostly feels like a case of bad timing rather than a personal choice. They had literally bottled up their feelings to practice Battle Magic, when they retrieved the feelings back they’re confused and stronger. They also self medicate. As group falling into bed feels inevitable and it’s just bad luck that Alice isn’t there to be a part of it.

Both Book and TV versions of Quentin are more emotionally attached to Eliot than to Janet/Margot. After the threesome, Book Quentin obsesses over how stupid he was to betray Alice with Janet, but he can barely acknowledge that he was also with Eliot. In the TV fandom, there is a lot more focus on the Quentin/Eliot coupling than on the Quentin/Margot one. The schism reminds me of Crime and Punishment (of all things) where Raskolnikov obsesses over one of his victims, and the detective focuses on the other. Considering that a major theme of The Magicians is crossing over from fan to participant/creator, it feels appropriate that fandom would be part of a literary parallel (and impossible to plan.)

TV Margot is much more of a character than Book Janet, but we don’t yet know if they share backstory or if that’s as different as their names. Show and Book Penny also have little besides a name in common, Kady and Asmadeus have even less.

The Beast’s design on the show kind of reminds me of the cover of La Oreja de Van Gogh’s “El planeta imaginario”. Seeing it this way kind of undercut how unnerving he could be, and made the album cover scarier than I think was intended. I was surprised that the Book’s description is so different, just a man with a tree branch in front of his face. I get why they’d want to redesign that for the camera, but I like how René Magritte-like that description is.

Finding out that the Beast is Martin Chatwin is such a great twist that I wished I could be shocked by it when I experienced it in another medium. (I’m having kind of the opposite experience with Game of Thrones, I’m not eagerly anticipating those twists.) It was distracting in trying to stay involved in the book’s version of the plot. TV’s Beast has much more on-screen time, there are more than two confrontations with him, and our protagonists seek him out as an enemy, all of which is very different in the books. But, otherwise it feels like Martin and his tragedy really saturated the Books’ story in a way that hasn’t really happened in the series. The TV series characters have to deal with the physical damage the Beast leaves in Fillory, the way he abuses its resources, something the Books don’t really address. But the books are more interested in the psychological damage he leaves behind. His family never recovers from his defection. The TV series only really focuses on how that affects Jane, and how their interaction is a lot more direct here than in the Books. I don’t know if the TV series is ever going to do anything with Rupert Chatwin, but his book-within-The Magician’s Land was beautiful and poignant. Nothing in the TV series quite matches it.

That said, the lessening of The Beast’s presence allows Reynard to be the Big Bad for most of the second season. This gives greater value to Julia’s experience. Also, his comeuppance and Julia’s experience of finally meeting Our Lady of the Underground are more satisfying on the show. I had no idea how much I appreciated that Our Lady restores Julia’s Shade until I found out that she doesn’t do so in the Book. (She just transforms Julia into a Dryad after which Julia disappears for most of the third book.) I was also surprised and a little disappointed to realize that the “Julia was rejected from Breakbill’s because of the timeline experiments on how to best defeat the Beast” is not in the Book. Good job, Show in creating that plot.

(Another Game of Thrones comparison: George R R Martin famously said that one of his goals in his series was to go where fantasy series generally don’t and get into the process of governing. The Magicians books really aren’t interested in that. Ruling Fillory is treated as a whim, even though the decision to collect taxes is one of the events that kickstarts the plot of The Magician King. The show, however, is interested in what it means to run Fillory.)

I like the continuous contact with characters that the medium of TV demands. I like that we see Penny joining The Order of Librarians, rather than having him disappear for hundreds of pages and then showing up as a member of The Order.

In general, the books are more sympathetically sensual and the TV show replaces the sensuality with crassness. That may sound more critical of the show than I intend. I really like the show and think it improves upon some aspects of the plot significantly. (For example I’m much more invested in Julia and Free Trade Beowulf’s quest to meet our Lady of the Underground and in it’s tragic aftermath in the TV Show than the Books. In fact, I’m kind of annoyed that it’s mostly a B-plot in the Books when the TV show gives it the time and weight it deserves.) I think the best illustration of this difference would be the wealth of details the book provides in exploring how it feels to be transformed into a different animal. The characters on the show are much more preoccupied by their bodily functions than in the books. Think how much of the second season’s plot was about how the god Ember, defecating in the well that was a source of magic messes things up for everyone. This is what I mean by crass.

The gods of Fillory, Ember and Umber, are surprisingly different after transitioning from page to screen. Some of the changes are predictable, such as changing their physiques from pure ram to humanoid with ram features. But they also forgo the idea that Umber is Ember’s shadow and they’re really one aspect of the same god in the Book. On TV they’re separate gods one of chaos and one of order. A major themes in The Magician’s Land is the evolution from being a fan to a creator and then letting go of the creation so that new fans can go through that process. Storytelling is a combination of setting rules and creating chaos. Quentin killing Umber happens under very different circumstances and earlier in the narrative in the TV Series. I’m not sure where the letting-go-so-you’re-fans-can-do-their-thing part comes in for the show.

I like that the TV version has musical numbers.

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