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bthump · 6 months

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What are your thoughts or analyses on the phallic imagery in berserk? Less so the more obvious ones like seen in Casca’s nightmares which are obviously pointing to her sexual trauma, but like we see with the vagina-esque monsters and how Guts’ sword is alluded to being like a penis in some cases. Sorry if it’s a weird question lol

Sorry for the wait on this lol, I was on vacation for a while, and it's also a topic I wanted to spend some time on because I love it and I wanted to be relatively thorough. Thanks for the ask!

So yeah, disclaimers out of the way, Freudian analytical theory is very silly, very gender essentialist in ways that can often be transphobic and misogynist, and as far as I'm aware pretty much wholly unrelated to real psychology. Back in the 70s and 80s you had film theorists who took it seriously as a genuine glimpse into the subconsciousness of humanity or whatever, but now it's pretty much just a readily available source of sex and gender related symbolism that's easy to understand.

And in Berserk I do genuinely think it's a valid lens to view the story through because Miura is often quite heavy handed in utilizing it as symbolism. I mean, Guts literally gives someone an orgasm by stabbing her at one point. Some of this can definitely be a stretch, taking established symbols and running with them, but some of it is also almost certainly purposeful. I'll leave it to you to decide what you see as legit and what you see as stretching believability here.

This is very long lol

So yeah, it starts off strong in Berserk with Guts' oversized sword. Swords are dicks, ie sources of masculine power, especially in Berserk

and in the context of the story the dragonslayer is Guts overcompensating imo. And it's not compensating for a small dick lol, which would be more the purview of comedy, but for a loss of masculinity, ie Guts' childhood abuse from Gambino, and rape trauma. It's about his need to prove himself because he was made to feel like he had to, imo.

And it's not just the size of his sword, his obsession with it is also a major factor. He has a grandiose speech about how his sword is like a part of his body (hmm) and that it's been at his side through everything and he's always relied on it. The dream he lands on is to be the best and strongest sword fighter ever. He's currently having a breakdown over not being able to hit someone with his sword. He has a recurring tendency to break other guy's swords lol. At one point Casca screams at him that he essentially cares about his sword more than her. etc etc.

In the story dreams are at odds with emotionally healing human relationships, and dreams are represented by swords (Guts' sword obviously, Casca becoming Griffith's sword, Griffith calling the throne a sword while taunting the king in the dungeon as well as his vision of himself throwing him a sword and pointing to the castle in chapter 72).

So through a Freudian lens, Guts' sword can also be said to represent emotional isolation, positioning masculinity as emotionally isolating. Which, yk, fits with Griffith also equating dreams and masculinity in his Promrose Hall speech (a man must achieve a dream before he can have a family or lover) and, I suppose lol, Casca getting "softer" and more feminine as she falls for Guts, as femininity is therefore the opposite: emotional reliance on and support of others.

So if swords are dicks, then it follows that wounds are vaginas, ie yonic symbols. Also pretty obvious when you read some of the lines during the Guts and Casca sex scene lol. "I too want a wound I can say you gave me." These can represent weakness and victimization (I did warn for misogyny lol) and/or (often sexual) relationships and emotional openness.

So you have the relationships - "licking wounds" with Casca; Guts letting Casca stab him when he thinks about abandoning Griffith; the Beast of Darkness calling Casca the wound Griffith left so Guts can keep feeling the pain Griffith caused; Griffith scratching his own shoulder where Guts' sword pointedly didn't wound him; Griffith being out of reach of Guts' sword post-Eclipse; "let's give him a heap of raw iron;" and Farnese grinding on Guts' sword while possessed and Slan directly treating being stabbed as sexual penetration for the most obvious examples...

Also I'd argue that any time Guts gets his ass kicked in a fight it functions as an echo of his rape trauma symbolically and subconsciously to Guts. Both kinda obviously at times, like eg when Slan overpowers him and tears off his shirt while wounding his chest, and kisses him after the stabbing, causing Guts to feel a burst of fear

or when Rosine stabs Guts through the mouth as another enemy who flirts with Guts mid-fight. And of course the first duel with Griffith in which Guts unilaterally sets the stakes to sex slavery because he's projecting.

But also a little more subtlely, such as when Zodd is given the same position as Nightmare Donovan in Guts' concussion nightmare after he kills Adonis, or all this consistent imagery that rapists and apostles tend to get.

Or, interestingly, the way the Berserk armour functions as self-harm as Guts fights by penetrating Guts to "heal" him.

Something that solidifies its hold over Guts and makes him lose more and more of his positive humanity to his urge to kill.

So yeah, from a Freudian angle I'd suggest that Guts is driven to fight to reclaim the sense of masculine power he was stripped of when he was raped, and every fight can be said to be a repetition of his rape trauma in which he (usually) successfully fights back, but also continuously retraumatizes himself rather than healing.

I'm going to delve a little deeper into how phallic and yonic symbols intersect with the characters' relationships now that we've outlined some of the preliminary symbolism, starting from the Golden Age.

The first duel between Guts and Griffith is rife with Freudian symbolism, very overtly. Griffith stabs Guts and then Guts proceeds to have a nightmare about his rape trauma. Then he projects that trauma onto Griffith when he assumes Griffith wants to fuck him and adds sexual stakes to their duel. Then, yk, he takes Griffith's sword into his mouth lol.

Griffith winning by dislocating Guts' arm can be easily taken as a symbolic unmanning/castration, nicely introducing us into Guts' three years of growth towards prioritizing relationships instead of aimless sword-swinging to prove himself. It's also suggestive of penetration when you're primed to look for sexual symbolism (and if Guts offering Griffith his ass and then biting a sword doesn't prime you for it, what does?):

And the two of them losing their swords in the course of the fight and resorting to unarmed combat can also be taken as a telling symbol of the conflict between dreams and their relationship with each other. They lose the symbols of their dreams and contend only with each other, in a more positive contrast to the second duel that ends their relationship, in which they fight only with swords and never touch each other.

Wounds come into it when Griffith nearly gets killed rushing in against Zodd to save Guts, leading to the most impactful moment of their relationship, where Griffith admits he did it solely for Guts' sake and had no other reason. Griffith also points out how wounded Guts is after that fight, in what I'd call a nearly flirtatious way:

And if you follow these symbols completely strictly this scene suggests Guts retreating into his defensive masculinity in his sword exercises after being defeated/emasculated by Zodd and accused of not valuing his personal relationships by Casca, and finally finding a new, more constructive purpose for his sword after Griffith essentially confesses his devotion to him.

Dedicating his sword to Griffith in return for the wounds Griffith suffered for his sake, with, it has to be noted when the topic is freudian symbolism, his sword held at exactly crotch level.

In the second duel Guts destroys Griffith's sword before leaving, a symbolic castration which is most likely intended to represent and foreshadow Griffith's subsequent loss of power when he throws his life away and ends up tortured in a dungeon for a year. More interestingly imo, is Griffith tracing scratch-markes on his shoulder after sleeping with Charlotte and while crying over Guts - the same shoulder Guts' sword didn't quite hit when he won the duel, drawing attention to the lack of a wound by Guts' hand, a wound he created himself and traces in his devastation.

You have a nice... I don't know what the comic terminology is lol so I'm just going to call it a match-cut here, with Griffith and Casca both getting penetrated by the same number of arrows/skewers, to signify Griffith and the Hawks' fall from power, in contrast to Guts' growing phallic power as he pursues his sword swinging. Power which he demonstrates when he returns and saves the Hawks and Casca and Griffith by swinging his sword a lot and defeating a lot of powerful enemies and, if I'm gonna be crass, healing Casca's suicidal despair with his dick lol.

Interestingly though, before he does that he lets Casca stab him while experiencing the guilt of having driven Griffith into a torture chamber by leaving. It's a wound that highlights his emotional connection to Griffith and vulnerability to those emotions, even as he tries to deny them. He then manages to successfully deny them for a little while longer after having sex with Casca.

In this Freudian context, Guts and Casca's sex scene is an affirmation of a relationship, but one which is emotionally uneven, with Casca ready and willing to emotionally rely on and support Guts, but Guts still dedicated to his sword-swinging dream, inviting Casca with him but only as long as she doesn't get in the way of what he wants to do. This does fit with phallic symbols being associated with emotional distance and yonic symbols being associated with emotional closeness lol. (Also fittingly, the one way he does open up to her is about his rape trauma after a flashback.)

It's worth noting that in this disconnect Casca erroneously assumes Guts fought the hundred men and "bled" for her, making her want "a wound" from him in return. Guts fighting those hundred men is much more reminiscent of his fights against apostles, the fights that revolve around replaying his rape trauma to make himself feel better. Casca assumes they already have an emotional bond due to Guts' wounds, but she's wrong - Guts specifically thinks to himself during the hundred man fight that he's not doing it for Casca.

This is reflected in the Wyald fight when Guts insists on fighting Wyald, again as part of the whole reaffirmation of masculinity thing I outlined at the start of this, when Casca just wants him to run away. The Wyald fight is pretty overt about being about Guts' rape trauma imo, moreso than most fights in the story. Wyald's rapiness is made a point of from Guts' point of view when he sees him wielding the torso of a woman sexually impaled on a pike and gets extra angry, and when he literally cuts off Wyald's dick when he's about to rape Casca, and then has his pointed line about needing to "settle the score with him... with them... by his own sword."

SO ESSENTIALLY to sum up this subsection, I think you can argue that what prevents Guts and Casca from being an equal relationship is Guts stlil being hung up over needing to prove his masculine power through sword-swinging, rather than embracing his emasculation (which, remember, tends to signify positive relationships in this context) and coming to terms with it ("immersing himself in sorrow" as Godo says much later.)

Like, to return to Griffith, it's fitting that after Guts destroys his sword and he goes through a year of torture and is thoroughly emasculated, he's able to recognize his feelings for Guts and understand that Guts is more important to him than the dream, the "sword called the throne."

But he doesn't quite come to terms with his emasculation either. This symbolism is one explanation for the wagon scene where he propositions Casca - a desperate bid for some form of power. Not the strongest explanation imo, but since we're currently in the business of actively looking for this symbolism, it definitely fits. Casca's rejection and pity reinforce Griffith's emasculation, and overhearing her tell Guts to leave again is the final straw. Relationships are a bust, swords are now his only recourse, as we see when he has a vision of himself throwing him a sword and pointing to the castle.

You could take the nightmarish vision he has of a life with Casca as Griffith rejecting emasculation, but an alternate way of taking it is Griffith regaining a form of phallic power, and the emotional isolation that goes with it. After all, it's implied that he has a child with Casca, while totally withdrawn and emotionally isolated.

I once said in a different silly essay that Griffith choosing the dream is, in a way, Griffith choosing another version that nightmare, and that take also fits here.

And hey, it's another reason for Femto to rape Casca lol, if we want to ascribe meaning there, and of course we must in this kind of analysis. In the wagon Griffith essentially offers sex to Casca for the faint vestige of masculine power it could give him (emotional isolation and a child); in his nightmare he imagines that life and it drives him to suicide; and after becoming Femto he forces sex onto Casca and then continues on to embody emotional distance and masculine power.

This power is painfully demonstrated through the rape of Casca, but also subsequently through his pure untouchability (often in pointedly sexualized contexts); through his phony relationship with Charlotte and ascending to the ultimate patriarchal role of king/emperor and taking that sword called the throne; and I guess also through his actual sword lol which he still uses.

An example of sexualized untouchability - check out the positioning of that third thought bubble, in this scene where Griffith lords his invulnerability over Ganishka.

And look at all those pillars, I'm js.

And I'd be remiss not to point out the most recent confrontation with Guts where Guts tries many times to hit his naked body with his giant sword, completely fails, and then Griffith kidnaps Casca. More very on-point emasculation symbolism, it might as well be Guts trying to fuck him but unable to get hard lol. His breakdown afterwards doesn't do much to disabuse you of that notion either.

Anyway, back to post-Eclipse Guts. There's not much else to add that I didn't cover at the start, but in brief:

Guts has lost his arm during the Eclipse, which is an emasculation - he loses it while watching Femto rape ~his woman~ so it's like the most traditional symbolic castration there is lol. And of course he replaces it with a bigger, better, and more overt phallic symbol: a canon. And like the first thing we see him do with it is shove it into the mouth of a monster he's banging and blow her head off. So yk, there's that.

And there's Puck, who exists to help bridge Guts' emotional distance and essentially serves as the feminine counterpart to Guts' masculinity for a while. From his magical empathy, to his tiny size, to his lack of genitalia (note that in Freudian theory the lack of a penis is an indicator of femininity rather than specifically the presence of a vagina), to his connections with female characters Theresia and Jill, even arguably to his introduction where Guts saves him from a bunch of men throwing phallic knives at him by skewering them with his own (bigger) projectiles, this is consistent during the Black Swordsman/Conviction arc era.

Chestnut Puck is a lot more boyish, with his particular humour, his cameraderie with an annoying teenage boy, and now having his own feminine counterpart in Ivalera, but that's fine because his thematic job as a feminine influence on Guts is over after Guts starts collecting more friends.

And as far as the RPG group goes, there are a few notable instances of phallic symbolism for them too. Farnese and Serpico are an obvious example, with Farnese sexualizing the wounds Serpico voluntarily suffers for her, when she demands he duel for her honour a bunch of times.

Farnese brandishing the end of her whip at him doesn't hurt the freudian power dynamic symbolism either lol.

In the Conviction arc Farnese wielded a sword she was incapable of using, suggestive of her true femininity under a brash masculine surface, and when she softens in the Millenium Falcon arc she becomes a caretaker with only a small dagger for self-defense. That said, she does get that epic moment of stabbing a tiger in the eye with a long silver pole (candlestick) when she rejoins Guts' crew rather than becoming a housewife, so she still gets some badass phallic weapon imagery lol.

Serpico wields a thin rapier in the Conviction Arc, which Guts easily grabs in his hand, and in the Millenium Falcon arc he switches to a... limp feather duster lol. Serpico is very feminized compared to Guts and his weapons fit as part of that, but they're still effective weapons. You could maybe argue, within this Freudian lens, that this is indicative of Serpico's healthier relationship with masculinity. He's not compensating for anything, he's at peace with himself.

And god I gotta say something about Guts and Serpico's duels. In the first one you have Serpico delaying Guts while Farnese steals Casca from him, and part of that delay is to force Guts into a fight where he can't wield his sword, a parallel emasculation to Casca being kidnapped.

Then you have their confrontation after Farnese's no good very bad night, which is just incredibly suggestive lol.

You cannot tell me this isn't Guts getting blueballed when Serpico leaves after one quick exchange. Particularly coming in the same chapter featuring possessed Farnese grinding on Guts' sword (which Guts was much less interested in, incidentally). Also: wounds as sexual imagery again. Guts licking the blood off his cheek? Come on.

And finally you have their fight in Farnese's basement, in which Serpico attempts to hinder Guts by surrounding him with giant pillars, which Guts smashes through as he dodges around them. Another neat illustration of Guts' pure phallic power and Serpico's much more effeminate style.

One final note to address part of your ask, which didn't naturally fit into the rest of this lol: I would interpret vaginal imagery in monsters as mainly castration anxiety, yk, vagina dentata vibes, the fear of sticking your dick in a hole you can't see into. There's actually a lot of interesting stuff to consider in terms of the feminine as the unknowable other when it comes to Freudian theory, but that's like, not something I would expect Miura to lean into first of all, and also it would take another essay of explanation. If you're interested in that kind of Freudian analysis though I'd recommend the books Men, Women, and Chainsaws by Carol J. Clover and The Dread of Difference, edited by Barry Keith Grant. I took a course on women and horror films ages ago and read chunks of those, and it was very fun, and iirc both address Freudian imagery in horror.

Okay! So that's the rundown of like, all the examples of Freudian imagery that interest me at least lol. This isn't exhaustive ofc, Berserk is long and not stingy with this stuff, but this response is already so long and meandering lol, so I'm going to wrap it up here.

To sum up, phallic imagery often represents masculine power as well as masculine flaws (like emotional isolation) in Berserk, while yonic/vaginal imagery tends to represent feminine weakness as well as feminine virtues (like emotional connection and vulnerability). As a general rule, the more phallic imagery someone violently swings around, the more fucked up they are. Phallic violence is used to compensate for past trauma, but it only continues the cycle of violence. The way to break that violence is to accept one's wounds and focus on them, to heal, rather than trying to distract from them.

I don't think this is always the best way to interpret Berserk lol, but it adds another dimension that very often complements the surface meaning and thematic resonance of the story, sometimes purposefully, sometimes likely incidental. And either way it's a lot of fun to read into!

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infuschia · 10 months

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Matt Murdock/Reader - “Black and Midnight Blue” Chapter 37 Excerpt: “Keeping Clean”

HIIIII so here we have an excerpt from my a03 matt murdock/reader fic Black and Midnight Blue! full chapter will be posted on a03 on Sunday and is... very 18+. not super integral to the plot i was just possessed to write it please don’t judge me i am only human. it’s smutty but not in typical multiple-people fashion... basically ya gurl is alone and... thoughts spiral... i’m sure you can see where this is going lol. this excerpt doesn’t feature the FULLY explicit smut part, just the lead up. if this is your thang i hope you enjoy❤️‍🔥

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Black and Midnight Blue - Matt Murdock/Reader - full fic right here on a03 baby

Chapter 37: *Keeping Clean

this excerpt: 1.6k words - full chapter: 5.5k

aaand smut warning🫡

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Matt was lovely as he was. And you wanted him for that - you wanted him for him, for the great guy he was, the good man he was trying to be.

But, simply put - you also wanted him in every indulgent, desirous sense that the word "want" connotes.

And, although you fought it, especially considering how you two had agreed to take things slow - this "want" was growing into less of a want and more of a somewhat harrowing desperation.

It was this needy thing, seeded into your gut, clawing to be let out. A prowling animal in the depths of your core, the need lurked in the back of your mind, sending intermittent twitches and slick pleasure to your cunt as it forced images of what it craved to the center of your attention.

These images were far from what your dark circumstances made it reasonable for you to focus on. Logically, your focus should be on your half-compromised identity, the serial harasser at your workplace, the precarious balance upon which sat your professional and personal lives. The logical things were your focus, of course, and you were responsible with them, putting in all the effort you could to bring yourself justice so that you could continue, hitch-free, on your path. But every free second you had seemed to be spent in the clutches of these images.

They were daydreams and desires of Matt, sculpted and powerful and warm, giving you every inch of him - hard and fast and rhythmically all-consuming - until you released all that deep-seated need, slick and hot, over whatever part of his body he'd chosen to pleasure you with.

So, yeah. With those thoughts pretty much cocooning your brain, and after such a heated makeout session as the one you'd had - agonizing would be the best way to describe the rest of last night.

You'd now been staying at Matt's place for about two weeks. And you were enjoying every second of it, of course. His presence and the safety of his apartment were a welcome salve for the fear lurking at the back of your mind, the danger you'd found yourself trapped in the clutches of.

Bottom line: you were incredibly grateful, happy, and more than enjoying yourself in spite of the storm raging around you.

That was what was most important.

But…

A woman has needs.

Matt hadn't exactly touched you yet. Touched you, that is, in a sort of manner that would offer you the relief you hadn't had in at least two weeks, maybe longer. And, although you didn't have the entire mechanism of his senses mapped out just yet - you were sure he'd notice if you took care of things on your own.

So, here you were, all worked up and bothered and orgasm-free for a whopping fourteen days at the least. Frankly, it was killing you.

But, on this beautiful, wonderful, perfect morning, Matt left for work earlier than usual. He'd returned to kiss your half-asleep lips before he left, whispering something about Foggy and clients and coffee, and you'd given him a mumble of a 'have a good day' before smushing your hair-covered face back into his pillow. It was still somewhat warm, smelling like him, sending heat racing between your legs with every breath you eagerly dragged in. The front door clicked behind Matt, and your new status as alone in his apartment sent your eyes right back open.

Not that I'm happy for him to leave.

It's just… we're taking things slow.

And, again: a woman has needs.

Rolling onto your back in the bed, you contemplated your next move. You couldn't touch yourself between the sheets, nor on top of them; that would be far too obvious, especially since you didn't have time to wash anything. The couch wouldn't work for similar reasons. No real spot, truthfully, could hide this plan completely from Matt's senses. That left you one last option: not foolproof, but better than anything else you could have chosen.

The shower.

Of course.

It would remove any need to desperately scrub over the surface you'd be lying upon once you were finished. Better still, it would keep you clean, hopefully reducing - if not eliminating - the chance for Matt to recognize any subtle bodily hints of what you'd done to yourself. Plus, Matt wasn't here, and any neighbors were either at work or otherwise occupied - but still, any noise you might happen to make would be well muffled by the sounds of the fan and steady water splashing hard against the shower walls.

And it's not like this was some big secret or anything that you were hiding from Matt. It was just that you were technically a guest in his apartment, and although you and he were technically some sort of a genuine thing, no confirmation had been completely made yet on what this thing should technically be labeled, not to mention the lack of sex just yet between you-

-Ugh.

All the specifics.

So much... to still figure out.

It just felt a touch too far for him to know about you jacking off in his apartment, no pun intended.

But you needed this. Almost embarrassingly so.

Your slick cunt clenched at the thought, clit twitching at the anticipation of finally being touched all the way after such a hiatus.

Time wasn't on your side, so you tossed the covers off and stood out of bed, promptly stripping yourself of Matt's shirt and sweatpants. Every footstep seemed to echo through the otherwise empty apartment as you hopped your way to the bathroom. A clean towel was grabbed tight in one hand and tossed atop the counter as you shut the bathroom door. You promptly flipped the fan on and pulled the shower curtain flush along its rod. It hung in a relatively linear fashion, hanging in only slight ripples along the tub's edge.

The shower head sputtered slightly at first, quickly spurting out into a hard, steady stream of heat and steam, promptly soaking the tub and shower walls. That towel sat neatly folded at the edge of the countertop, and the mirror had already begun to steam as you pulled back the curtain and let it fall closed behind you.

Soaking your hair was the first step, after you got used to the heat of the water.

I did need an actual shower, anyway.

Steam swirled up and around you, a balm on your skin where the water didn't hit it directly, and you shut your eyes and dipped your head back into the open arms of a hot downpour. Matt's shampoo was pleasant to you; though it's difficult to make any product completely scent free, this was pretty close. Still, you caught the subtlest whiffs of something clean-smelling, possibly swirled with vanilla. Your hair was promptly lathered, but as your fingers pressed into your scalp, your mind fell back in time to the time Matt had washed your hair.

That night, he'd worked his hands against your aching head with so much care. You were so drained - from the physical effort, the smoke inhalation, the blood loss - and Matt had snapped to attention, his soot-covered clothes the least of his worries, your comfort being the most. Every press of his fingers and thumbs against your scalp, every lather of shampoo, smear of conditioner - it had been like magic to your worn body, your anxious mind. Here, in this shower, your hands had stilled in your hair at the memory of Matt's massaging touch, each connection between a fingertip and your hazy head having sent waves of electric comfort through your entire body.

You couldn't help but wonder if he'd touch your cunt with the same care, the same pressure, the same attention to exactly what would make you feel relief - what would let you fall into soaking hot release at his offering.

Though shower water poured down over you, smearing soap along your hair and back until it dripped into the base of the tub, the wettest part of your body at this thought was still the throbbing heat between your legs.

Conditioning your hair was a much quicker process. Washing your body, though, brought those very same sorts of thoughts back into your steam-filled head, a hot knot of thickly-coiled rope tightening in your stomach. With every stretch of your palms along your body, you rubbed with just a bit more feeling than normal, squeezed at your skin and curves and limbs with more pressure than you typically would. Eyes closed, you pretended it was Matt's hands on your body, warming you up with the lather of soap and the unrelenting pelt of hot water on your skin. As the suds slipped down your legs and swirled into the drain, you took note of how much deeper your breaths had grown, how intensely your clit had begun to pulse with every cleansing movement your fingertips made.

In spite of the heat, you shuddered, shivering as you reached up to tilt the shower head slightly downward so it wouldn't spray right into your face.

Matt's hands clutched tight at your mind, groping you from the inside, and you had to hold onto the tub's edge to steady yourself as you lowered all the way down. Your body felt placid, yet purring, ravenous and needy with every new inch of your back that touched the tub floor. Laying your head back, you relaxed into a long, choked breath, and let your bent legs part.

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and it expectedly keeps going LOL if this snippet (the-only-part-i-have-edited-so-far-ha-ha) has piqued your interest hit up a03 on sunday to get the rest😚

#matt murdock/reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil/reader #black and midnight blue #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #fanfiction baby #reader insert #ok im done

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darlinguistics · 11 months

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i wanna gush about my korean teacher bc i get so so anxious before every single class without fail (which is just how i am before any class really and the social aspect of language classes just doubles it but im used to it) but as soon as im there and shes talking i feel infinitely better and im not used to my profs having that effect on me. shes so like attentive and kinda nitpicky and hard on us but then she also gives us a lot of praise and thanks us for working so hard and tells us that its a lot of work and you need to put in the work and it will all pay off and i dont know shes just the most comforting person ever for an adhd chronically burnt out student like me who has the tendency to give up if im not immediately good at something. im used to being overwhelmed by the idea of such hard work cuz i have it in my mind that im going to fail and its all pointless and my goals arent worth the effort, but that doesnt scare me as much when im in her class. the demons get to me again when im studying alone but i always feel better when im in class again. ive only been in her class for like a couple weeks but im so glad to have her and im excited to have her in person next fall and get even better.

i swear man learning another language is such a spiritual thing if you let it be... but anyway time to study and intermittently talk myself down from more anxiety lol ✌️

#🌟.txt #korean #langblr

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marvus-xoloto · 1 year

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For what it’s worth, I genuinely love the amount of effort you put into your characterisation or Marvus and how you interpret his possible dynamics with other characters. I don’t even like Marvus that much, but honestly, that’s mostly down to how badly the majority of the fandom interprets him. Your work- even if it’s just intermittent posts- makes me rethink him and consider the complexities of his character that I might not have thought of.

As someone who also puts too much effort into their interpretation/characterisation of one character, any work that expands on the very little were given in Hiveswap canon is a good contribution

Yeah, there definitely used to be a large part of fandom where he was "rich dude who's definitely woke will be the head of the revolution" and like, you said it in a post better than I will so I won't expand upon why that was such a frustrating thing to run into again and again lol.

But thank you for the kind words <3 I do like my interpretation of Marvus; I just wish I had allowed myself to indulge in deep diving in all the sides of him from the get go. I think I had engagement sickness lol I was posting for the maximum audience, but also I was still feeling a little bit like an outsider back then and I felt like I had to carve out a niche to stay relevant. It's difficult to change my mindset: it's not lke fandom is the amigara fault lmao Idk!

I just like characters in general. You're stronger than me; I would love to expand upon more characters, but since the fandom has kind of shrunk, I'm only really doing my own thing. Can't wait to see if act 3 will revive some of the fanbase later, bc it looks like there will be more characters to get our claws into :0 haha

#asks #silas.txt

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jvwhyte · 3 years

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SJM's pinterest board. ACOTAR 6/7.

(No conclusion just suspicious stuff lmao)

Here's a photo i found on SJM's ACOTAR pinterest board:

THE MOIRAI (Moirae) were the three goddesses of fate who personified the inescapable destiny of man (and women). The role of the Moirai was to ensure that every being, mortal and divine, lived out their destiny as it was assigned to them by the laws of the universe.

In nearly all mythologies the three Fates, rulers of the past, present and future, are represented and many believe they symbolize the Triple Goddess, Virgin, Mother and Crone (Creator, Preserver and Destroyer).

In Greek mythology, the Moirai—often known in English as the Fates—were the white-robed incarnations of destiny.

“There were at least three dozen priestesses who worked and researched and healed here, though it was nearly impossible to count them when they all wore the same pale robes and so many kept the hoods over their faces.”

Clotho (/ˈkloʊθoʊ/, Greek Κλωθώ, [klɔːtʰɔ̌ː], "spinner") spun the thread of life from her distaff onto her spindle.

(Clotho: the mute priestess at the library)

Lachesis (/ˈlækɪsɪs/, Greek Λάχεσις, [lákʰesis], "allotter" or drawer of lots) measured the thread of life allotted to each person with her measuring rod.

Atropos (/ˈætrəpɒs/, Greek Ἄτροπος, [átropos], "inexorable" or "inevitable", literally "unturning",[13] sometimes called Aisa) was the cutter of the thread of life. She chose the manner of each person's death; and when their time was come, she cut their life-thread with "her abhorred shears". The figure who came to be known as Atropos had her origins in the pre-Greek Mycenaean religion as a daemon or spirit called Aisa. Another important Mycenaean philosophy stressed the subjugation of all events or actions to destiny and the acceptance of the inevitability of the natural order of things; today this is known as fatalism.

The Morrígan or Mórrígan, also known as Morrígu, is a figure from Irish mythology. The name is Mór-Ríoghain in Modern Irish, and it has been translated as "great queen" or "phantom queen".

The Morrígan is mainly associated with war and fate, especially with foretelling doom, death or victory in battle. In this role she often appears as a crow, the badb.[1] She incites warriors to battle and can help bring about victory over their enemies. The Morrígan encourages warriors to do brave deeds, strikes fear into their enemies, and is portrayed washing the bloodstained clothes of those fated to die.[2][3] She is most frequently seen as a goddess of battle and war and has also been seen as a manifestation of the earth- and sovereignty-goddess,[4][5] chiefly representing the goddess's role as guardian of the territory and its people.[6][7]

Mor may derive from an Indo-European root connoting terror, monstrousness cognate with the Old English maere (which survives in the modern English word "nightmare") and the Scandinavian mara and the Old East Slavic "mara" ("nightmare");[14] while rígan translates as "queen".[15][16] This etymological sequence can be reconstructed in the Proto-Celtic language as *Moro-rīganī-s.[17][18] Accordingly, Morrígan is often translated as "Phantom Queen".[16] This is the derivation generally favoured in current scholarship.[19]

The Morrígan is often considered a triple goddess, but this triple nature is ambiguous and inconsistent. The triple appearances are partially due to the Celtic significance of threeness.

(Three is a VERY common number in acotar (might make a whole other post on that))

Could Mor be one of the fates or even something more powerful than them, could she have a bigger part than we thought in the next story with Koschei ?

In the Republic of Plato, the three Moirai sing in unison with the music of the Seirenes. The term "siren song" refers to an appeal that is hard to resist but that, if heeded, will lead to a bad conclusion.

In Greek mythology, the Sirens (Ancient Greek: plural: Seirênes) were dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and singing voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. It is also said that they can even charm the winds.

i bet your thinking where tf is this looney going with this....well,

i also found this photo:

Celtic Mythology The GWRAGEDD ANNWN [wives of the underworld]were lake-sirens in Wales. These lovely creatures are known to choose mortal men as their husbands. One legend has it that they live in a sunken city in one of the many lakes in Wales. People claim to have seen towers under water and heard the chiming of bells. In earlier times, there used to be a door in a rock and those who dared enter through it came into a beautiful garden situated on an island in the middle of a lake. In this garden there were luscious fruits, beautiful flowers and the loveliest music, besides many other wonders. Those brave enough to enter were welcomed by the Gwragedd Annwn and were invited to stay as long as they wanted, on the condition that they never took anything back from the garden. One visitor ignored the rule and took a flower home with him. As soon as he left the island, the flower disappeared and he fell unconscious to the ground. From that day on, the door has been firmly closed and none has ever passed through it again.

“My grandmother was a river-nymph who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court.”

Gwyn believes her grandmother to be a river-nymph. Is it possible that she was not but instead a lake siren? We know that Gwyn and Catrin's names are welsh (Lake-Sirens are found in wales) and the spring court has many ties to welsh mythology so is it really that far fetched?

In Celtic and Norse mythology, selkies (also spelled silkies, sylkies, selchies) or selkie folk (Scots: selkie fowk) meaning "seal folk"[a] are mythological beings capable of therianthropy, changing from seal to human form by shedding their skin. They are found in folktales and mythology originating from the Northern Isles of Scotland.

To further back up this, here is another photo of a Selkie woman on SJM's pinterest.

In David Thomson's book The People of the Sea, which chronicles the extensive legends surrounding the Grey Seal within the folklore of rural Scottish and Irish communities, it is the children of male selkies and human women that have webbed toes and fingers. When the webbing is cut, a rough and rigid growth takes its place.

Children born between man and seal-folk may have webbed hands, as in the case of the Shetland mermaid whose children had "a sort of web between their fingers",[25] or "Ursilla" rumoured to have children sired by a male selkie, such that the children had to have the webbing between their fingers and toes made of horny material clipped away intermittently.

“My twin had the webbed fingers of the nymphs—I don’t.”

Once again we see that Catrin posses traits of these water-creatures.

Keep in mind SJM has this on her board - The cover of Celtic folktales which has one story in particular of a 'sea-maiden' whom makes a deal with a mortal man.

I proceeded to continue searching through the board and found this:

Sathariel (Hebrew סתריאל, Greek: Σαθιήλ) is one of the Qliphoth, corresponding to the Sephirah Binah on the kabbalistic Tree of life. It represents the Concealment of God, which hides the face of Mercy. The form of the demons attached to this Qliphah are of black veiled heads with horns, with hideous eyes seen through the veil, followed by evil centaurs.

'veiled heads with horns'

The Qliphoth are the shadow of the Sephirot, the chaotic force that exists when the Sephirah is unbalanced. Binah is the Sephirah that gives birth to form, the great mother of the cosmos, the eternal womb. Through her, the spiritual energy of Keter and Chokmah are woven into the matrix that eventually becomes matter.

In Jewish Kabbalistic cosmology of Isaac Luria, the qlippot are metaphorical "shells" surrounding holiness. They are spiritual obstacles receiving their existence from God only in an external, rather than internal manner.

Quiphoth (shadow of sephriot) = Shadowsinger

"shells" surrounding holiness = The shadows protected Azriel

They emerge in the descending seder hishtalshelus (Chain of Being) through Tzimtzum (contraction of the Divine Ohr), as part of the purpose of Creation.

Sathariel had black feathers on his wings and his body was shrouded in darkness.

Honestly idk where tf im going with this 😩😩

I've put in far too much effort to delete it so i apologise if you've gotten all this way to be disappointed but

Conclusion:

Mor =/≠ Three fates

Gwyn = Heritage is sus? could be related to some interesting people

Azriel = Sathariel ?

If anyone has ideas to add pleaseeee tell me lol

i'll probably update this when i can be bothered

(FYI i love Gwyn and i'm not saying she's a siren or luring anyone but you've got to admit her grandmother is a sus lmao, especially with half the shit on SJM's pinterest.)

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siswritesyanderes · 3 years

Note

How would the first meeting between Sadie and the founders be, what does he think of her???

Thank you for this question!

I want to say that Sadie and the founders meet at a magical library, but in Quite Harmoniously I said/implied that it's uncommon to see a lot of magical books in one place, unless you're very rich- which, granted, I made up for the sake of emphasizing the importance of Hogwarts and for character purposes, but I'd like to be consistent without requiring Sadie to be inordinately wealthy, lol.

So here's how I'm thinking this plays out.

Rowena goes to some wizarding dine-in establishment or gathering place to read in solitude; she brings a lot of books with her, and she forgets one when she leaves. Sadie finds the book, and on the inside cover is written something like "This book is the property of the Hufflepuff estate". (Rowena has borrowed the book from Helga.)

Sadie goes to Hufflepuff manor to return the book. The founders are still living in Ravenclaw manor together, like in Quite Harmoniously, but Helga's house elf sends for Helga to floo over, and she brings Rowena along as well, since she's the one who forgot the book. Sadie basically goes, "Hello, I'm here to return this book to you, but also I wonder if I could borrow it one day? The title sounds awfully fascinating." (It's the old-timey equivalent of a psychology book.)

Helga is enchanted by Sadie's politeness and ethics; she could have just kept the book long enough to read it and then returned it after, but she brought it straight back to her and asked for a chance to borrow it!

Rowena is enchanted by Sadie's clear interest in what most would consider a boring subject; she would love to have long, deep discussions about it with someone as engaged as she is. To discuss each chapter in detail...even debate the conclusions drawn...

Helga says that of course Sadie can read it, once Rowena is done.

Rowena says that Sadie can read it whenever she wants, as often as she wants; all she has to do is come and visit Ravenclaw manor, and she can read anytime, and Rowena will serve refreshments (Fidelius will serve refreshments.) and they can talk about it.

Sadie gladly agrees. She visits Ravenclaw manor nearly every day, and she and Rowena have a mini-book club. Helga sits with them, because she enjoys their energy, she likes seeing Rowena so happy, and...and she finds herself so transfixed by Sadie's animated, brown eyes, and her sincere smile (her lips!), and the way she periodically tucks her hair behind her ears...

While she's there, Sadie meets the other two.

Godric introduces himself pretty early on; if two out of the house's four human occupants are meeting with someone for hours, on an almost-daily basis, he would like to meet that person as well. It's that or bother Salazar. (Well, it's that and bother Salazar; he makes time for both.) He sits in on the little book club meetings and flirts, cracks jokes, or just zones out watching Sadie express her thoughts.

Each time she leaves the manor, he offers to walk her home, but she politely declines, saying she's sure she'll manage. (She's not even connected to the Floo network!) He preoccupies himself, wondering if she's in danger, or worse: meeting someone else! Someone (obviously) less handsome and chivalrous and clever than him, but she might fall for his wiles all the same, the poor thing.

He's much less distracted when he knows she's in the manor, taking about the human mind with Rowena.

Salazar doesn't introduce himself for a while, but he's eavesdropped and slipped covertly into the room before, so he's already developed an attachment to Sadie by the time she first lays eyes on him. He's even followed her home a couple of times. He likes that she's so smart and finds it endearing and almost funny that she's so principled. So bogged down by these abstract concepts of honesty and fairness, but not at the expense of intelligence. When he kisses the back of her hand, in greeting, his lips linger just a bit.

The founders begin to notice that they all have feelings for Sadie. After discussing it awhile, they realize that the current arrangement is inefficient; they aren't satisfied by their exposure to Sadie, and they aren't able to continue in their studies or their work at the preferred pace. So, one day, when Sadie visits to read, the refreshments are spiked with a sleeping potion. She wakes in a soft, expensive nightgown, in a soft, expensive bed.

When they explain to her that they have agreed to abduct her, she inquires about the nature of their agreement. She wants to know everything that they have agreed about, with regards to her. Eventually, Rowena hands her the treatise they wrote on the subject, and Sadie reads the whole thing. (They all sit in silence, watching her eyes scan the document. Watching her eyebrows periodically quirk in surprise. Silence, interrupted only by her intermittent sounds of interest, dismay, distaste, and bemusement.) When she's done, she says, "I would like to object to a number of these settlements. I don't think it's fair that I haven't been allowed a voice in this matter."

She isn't able to talk them down from kidnapping, despite her valiant efforts, but she is able to negotiate a lot more freedoms for herself. She can leave the manor at will, but she will be accompanied or followed by at least one of them, and they will always make sure she returns. In fact, besides the stipulation that she has to live with them, she can pretty much do whatever she wants. She can outright tell people in public that they've kidnapped her; they'll just obliviate those people when she's done. She's allowed to keep her wand, though Salazar does check her most recent spells whenever he feels like it. She does not permit Rowena to practice Legilimency on her, but she does agree to cast some of her memories into the Pensieve, for Rowena to see.

(Now, you may be wondering: Why have Rowena borrowing Helga's book instead of just having Rowena lose her own book, or Helga lose her own, or have Helga lose a book loaned to her by Rowena- since that would have gotten Sadie to Ravenclaw manor more efficiently. The answer is that I wanted Helga and Rowena to be directly involved in Sadie's return of the book, since I knew it would be so attractive to both of them, and I knew that Helga would be much less likely to absentmindedly forget a book in a public place than Rowena would, especially if the book were loaned to her. So while, for streamlining purposes, I would rather Helga have forgotten a book borrowed by Rowena, so that both of them could get involved and Sadie could go straight to Ravenclaw manor, I didn't think it in-character for Helga to make that kind of mistake with an object she does not own.)

#male yandere #female yandere #yandere founders #yandere gryffindor #yandere godric #yandere hufflepuff #yandere helga #yandere ravenclaw #yandere rowena #yandere slytherin #yandere salazar #sadie lily gilder #rule one sadie #yandere poly

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

*sigh* ..... Nobody’s surprised here lol I require very little enabling.

Here’s part 1 of this lil mafia_au ✨ @lovebillyhargrove 💗

This got out of hand quickly orz but I’ll hold onto this for a later time 🔥

And to answer your question.....yes, I do write smut 😘

Billy made Steve cum four times.

Four.

He couldn’t believe it. Once, standing up in his towel with Billy massaging his groin, and twice more while he opened him up. Steve knew he was pent up, but...this was something else.

Billy yanked the towel to fall to the floor and walked him backward into the bedroom, shedding Steve of his t-shirt. Then he spread Steve wide and licked inside his ass. Steve couldn’t really say if the next orgasm was normal, dry, or just a pleasurable spike from being overwhelmed from Billy’s fingers tickling deeper than he thought possible.

Some lingering brain cell chirped at him and he carefully turned over to start crawling over the bed toward the side drawer. He managed to get his fingertips on the brass handle before Billy laid on top of him, flush with his pants open. Steve’s cock kicked to full eagerness at the sensation of Billy behind him, soft skin and strong muscle.

His arm followed up Steve’s to the drawer, where he withdrew the lube. Steve flushed from embarrassment that he gasped against Billy saying into his hair, “I’ll take care of you.”

Steve could only manage, “Condoms?”

“I’m clean. You?”

Steve blinked, lust making his head heavy until he released his weight onto the mattress. “I think so. I haven’t checked.”

The sound of the bottle cap behind and above him. “We’ll get you checked if you want, baby. Lift your ass for me.”

He sluggishly moved his elbows underneath him to do so, but then his voice escaped with his surprise at Billy hefting his pelvis up. “Breathe for me. Let me hear you.”

Steve let his torso recline like a ramp up to where Billy began to push inside. As much as the stretch made Steve’s jaw intermittently go slack and clench, the little, repeated pushes against his prostate made him see stars. The way Billy pulled him back and pushed inside him with a steadily increasing pace...Steve had never just let go before. Was usually entirely devoted to making sure his partner got everything they wanted and needed.

Billy used him and it felt great. To reach behind him for Billy’s hip when he arrived at the pace that ramped up Steve’s panted whines. The soft moan Billy made when Steve pushed against him with stuttering pulses, so close, so so

Steve’s nails bit into Billy’s hip, silently begging him to stay put as he bucked against him, the two at a clumsy impasse as Billy tried to fuck him through it and Steve’s short thrusts negated his efforts but made wet slaps fill the small room.

“Hahh!” Steve exclaimed when Billy’s arm came around his front and he moved them further up the bed. His other hand pressed into the mattress beside Steve’s head. He loosely held onto Billy’s wrist as the man took his pleasure from Steve. The way he just handled Steve into position...

“What?” he grunted breathily above him when Steve laughed. Something twirled in Steve’s belly at how mutually wrecked he sounded.

“Nothing. I just like this.”

Billy came with two more stuttering thrusts that pushed his hips tightly against Steve’s ass. He didn’t know what to expect afterwards, and he was too fucked out and tired to care much. But Billy landed beside him and rolled Steve over to spoon his backside and feel that silk shirt against his skin.

Maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour later, Steve felt Billy easing his thigh up to slot himself inside again. The angle shoved a gasp right out of him, but where before had been fast, Billy took his time now. Relishing each shiver that his nose and mouth caused behind Steve’s ear and on the side of his neck. The moan he got when he slid his hand down the inside of Steve’s thigh, easing it over his own leg to open Steve up further.

When his hand finally closed around Steve’s erection, Steve’s hand overlapped it, guiding him to what he needed. Billy came first this time, but he stayed inside and pumped Steve to his finish.

His last remotely cognizant thought went into noticing how Billy lifted his covers over their bodies as he slipped into slumber.

He shouldn’t have been able to wake up from the little shuffles and belt tinkering after the sun had risen, but Steve opened his eyes to see Billy adjusting his clothes in his closet door mirror.

“Do a turn.”

Billy perked up and looked back at him. He smiled like he’d been caught at something. “What?”

Steve gazed at him as much as he could from where his face was smushed against the pillow. He twirled a finger in the air. “Do a turn.”

Billy laughed softly, and...that was nice. He looked sweet when he smiled. It made a weight land in Steve’s belly, but a pleasant weight. It was even nicer how he held his arms out and rotated for Steve to see all of him. The silk shirt that was a dark, dark green; made the pink of his cheeks and lips pop. The black slacks around thick thighs...Steve wouldn’t mind having those wrapped around him.

“Gorgeous.”

Billy grinned through another laugh and let his arms fall back to his sides. He approached the bed and Steve’s eyes closed against the hand combing through his hairline. “What’s your shift today?”

“Closing,” he exhaled, his voice light with sleep.

He cooed a sound when Billy kissed his temple. “I’ll see you later.”

He hummed two more sounds like, Oh-kay.

Steve didn’t go to work.

His alarm when off, he stood up, and then fell back into bed while reaching for his phone to call his manager and use one of his sick days. Considering the tip he got last night, he could certainly afford a day off.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, come dinner time, that a knock came at the door. Steve hauled his whole comforter with him to the door, where Billy immediately looked him over and stepped inside. “I went to the restaurant to see you. What’s wrong?”

Steve chuckled a little through, “Nothing’s wrong. I just called in sick.”

Billy lifted his gaze from the plush turtle shell around him. “You were fine this morn - ”

“I’m sore, Billy,” he droned and began to shuffle his way back to his room, perfectly content with the blunt look of surprise on the man’s face. For good measure, he sassed, “Coulda left me an ice pack.”

He head Billy shut the door for him and then the same rustle and twinkle he’d heard this morning, only in reverse as he undressed. He put his clothes on the couch until he wore just his briefs and tank top. Steve’s eyes followed him from the bed, because even those were a look. The man couldn’t do anything without a couple hundred dollars on his body.

He brought an ibuprofen and a tall glass of water to the bed. Steve had already taken one, but it had been some hours ago.

“Have you eaten?”

He nodded while gulping water. “Lunch.”

He left the bedroom again and Steve heard him talking on the phone about what sounded like Chinese food. He only paused to lean in and ask, “Steve?”

His bedhead lifted up, just eyes, nose, and hair above his mound of comforter. Billy laughed, “What sides do you want?”

“Crab rangoons,” he returned easily.

When he finished, Billy climbed into bed with, “Come here,” and Steve eased his way onto his chest. He lent some of the comforter over Billy’s legs.

It was nice. Really nice.

By the time the food got there, Steve could sit properly again and Billy respected Steve’s choice in watching Netflix anime on the laptop on the end of the bed.

It was nice. All of it went incredibly well considering Steve didn’t know Billy’s last name. And frankly, he didn’t feel confident enough to ask. Even if Billy filled up every spare minute he had with holding Steve’s body against his chest, pushing Steve’s hair behind his ear, kissing him until Steve didn’t know his own name - even if it was just for a glorious weekend

He was fine with it. Because Steve wanted to be wanted. And Billy unashamedly desired him.

Steve did manage to ask him if the phone number included with his tip was Billy’s. He took the small slip of paper from Steve and wondered, “Who did you think it was from?”

“I didn’t handle your tab,” Steve defended while their legs were tangle together and the room still smelled of sweet and sour sauce. “I didn’t handle anyone’s, and there were like, fifteen people in your party.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Do you often get numbers tucked in the receipt folder?”

“No,” Steve scoffed while rubbing behind his ear. “I did get a tiny baggie of cocaine once.”

“Someone thought tipping the waiter with blow would be fine? Wow. Did you try it?”

“It could’ve been powdered sugar, for all I knew. I didn’t keep it. I’ll stick to downers like classic THC.”

Billy smiled and Billy laughed. Sometimes he just touched Steve like he was curious, or...checking like he was really there. A finger under his chin. A nose turning into his hair and deeply inhaling. Sometimes he touched Steve’s leg so he looked at him, but when Steve asked what he wanted to say or ask, Billy just shook his head. Like he just wanted Steve’s eyes and attention on him.

Steve really should’ve expected the gifts.

First came the flatscreen television. The men who installed it were generous enough to provide the HDMI cable to connect his laptop to it.

Then came a new internet router.

And Billy started picking Steve up to take him to work. The first time was sweet and a pleasant surprise. Billy drove a luxurious car that looked demure on the outside but boasted upholstery that smelled expensive and the entire dash glowed with neon, indigo lining. He reeled Steve over the center console to kiss him before his shift.

“You’re dating either a criminal, or an heir to something,” Robin declared when Steve met up with her on his day off. Her words were tight due to the sheet mask on both of their faces. Steve folded his up so he could slurp on a Sprite can.

“I haven’t seen any security force, though? Shouldn’t a guy like that have a bouncer with him or a portable secretary everywhere he goes?”

Robin scoffed, “A portable - you mean a personal assistant? I don’t know, probably. Just because you haven’t seen one doesn’t mean he hasn’t got one or six. Make sure he knows I don’t get wet for dinguses.”

“You know, I never needed that,” he grimaced.

What did come as a surprise, though, is that Billy never initiated sex again after that first night. He and Billy kept rather busy schedules despite how often Billy walked into Steve’s life, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Billy’s motivations were. Maybe he just wanted to take it slow for the sake of Steve’s body. Maybe he realized Steve was a sap who could stick around for longer than a week.

He stopped wondering after an accident happened at the restaurant. Steve always did have a talent for landing himself right at the apex of one problem intersecting another problem.

A wine glass fell on the floor - nothing extraordinary - and someone bumped into him as he bent to collect the bigger pieces. His hand caught right on the upright, jagged stem of the glass. Yeah, it hurt like stepping into an oyster bed, but Steve carefully pulled the stem out of his hand and used one of the chef’s gloves over cotton and gauze to finish his shift.

Billy picked him up.

Steve knew what his car looked like now, and clearly Billy wasn’t taking chances on anybody else picking him up -

He leaned on the car as Steve approached, but he stepped off to stride right to him and lifted up his hand by the wrist. Steve’s mouth opened to speak, but no words came. He’d never seen Billy angry before.

The dagger hovered in Steve’s belly.

“What. Happened.”

“It was just an accident,” Steve tried to say, but his voice didn’t fully back him up. Billy’s grip tightened on his wrist. Steve tried again, insisted, “It was an accident, Billy. Someone dropped their glass. It happens all the time. I’m fine. Can we go?”

He couldn’t say what actually made Billy turn around and open the car door for him. But he didn’t take Steve back to his apartment. Or the Emergency Room. Billy didn’t talk during the drive. Steve didn’t know where he was going after Billy parked in a parking garage and he cradled his hand in an elevator that just kept going up.

“My place,” Billy finally said as the doors opened.

Criminal. Definitely a criminal, Steve’s brain declared as he slowly stepped inside the suite that the elevator opened directly into. He left his shoes by the elevator, not daring a speck of dirt on the marble foyer hallway or the carpeting beyond that.

He looked left. He looked right. The suite kept going on either side, like it was meant for a family of eight.

“Come here.”

Steve obeyed and sat on the crushed velvet couch. Billy set a phone down on its receiver. Steve hadn’t heard him say anything into it, but Billy went through a door while he removed his coat. Steve assumed it to be the bedroom. Or a massive closet. He stayed put where he was, petting the couch one way, making the threads look black, and then the other, glistening sapphire blue.

In a matter of minutes, the elevator doors opened again. Steve stood up but Billy reappeared and waved him back down. He was beginning to feel like a trained dog at this point.

“Dr. Owens. Thanks for coming up.”

“Always an obligation, Mr. Hargrove,” came the reply in the foyer.

Hargrove?

“Ah, are you the one?”

Steve’s mouth opened, but what came out was, “There’s only one of me.”

All three of them seemed to be mildly confused and disappointed in that sentence, but they each let it slide. Owens nodded at his bandaged hand. “Would you mind explaining your injury to me?”

He did while Billy sat on the other couch, knees crossed and a hand wandering his mouth. Brooding.

Owens began to look through the case he brought with him. It opened like a makeup kit, with three tiers that opened like stairs with medicine supplies. “I’m going to do some minor injections to numb your hand. Then I’ll need to look around for any lingering glass.”

“What if I’m afraid of needles?”

“You’re going to be more afraid of an infection caused by glass in the hand. If an infection gets entwined far enough with the metacarpals, it’s nearly impossible to clean it out. Hands and feet are the worst places to get injured.”

Steve’s shoulders drooped an inch. “Great.”

He felt and smelled Owens moving an alcohol swab all over his hand, but he otherwise kept his gaze elsewhere during the injections.

Of course he’d have to feel the first two or three.

Billy entered his vision, sitting next to him and curving Steve’s arm around his own, locking Steve to him. Steve’s vision couldn’t quite focus on him. Everything had a blurry edge.

“Lean back.”

The notion didn’t sound great. “I’ll vomit.”

“Then lean into me.”

That proved...more manageable. Billy held firm with Steve’s weight falling into him. He wore a blue shirt today. Just a nice, soft and mundane long-sleeve. He matched the couch. His hair had already grown out past the fade, too. Softly fuzzy against Steve’s face...

“Tell me what happened.”

Steve’s brain didn’t want to cooperate, and with each word he pushed out, confusion intertwined the cogs in his mind. “The...glass. Wine glass. I work in a restaurant - ”

His head lifted to look at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“I want to make sure.”

Steve stared at him. “What? That I can keep a story straight while trying not to pass out or vomit?”

“Keep your hand still,” Owens droned. Steve felt his dull hold on his wrist, and the distantly sharp exploration through his palm.

Billy didn’t respond, and Steve didn’t say anything else until Owens had finished. He rattled a small glass vial, two bloody pieces dancing around in it. “I’ll let you keep these unless you want me to dispose them?”

“I love souvenirs,” Steve remarked.

Owens looked just as pleased to be out of there as Billy looked unhappy at being left alone with Steve. The color had returned to his face while Owens wrapped up his hand, and now Billy paced his living room.

“Am I allowed to leave?” Steve asked the same time Billy said, “Want the tour?”

Billy frowned. “Do you want to?”

With his unharmed hand, Steve rubbed his face. “I don’t actually like staying up until four in the morning.”

Steve didn’t get the tour.

Billy drove him back to his apartment. He didn’t stay, but he said before leaving, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

It didn’t occur until Steve’s head was hitting the pillow that he didn’t have work tomorrow. What could Billy possibly be picking him up for?

So Steve made sure he wasn’t home.

Yes, it’s petty.

Yes, Robin called him a moron one the phone while he strolled through the park.

“You’re gonna die because you refused some rich douche bag’s date.”

“I am not going to die,” he refuted. “I’m just going - ”

“To explain why.”

He startled away from Billy walking beside him, causing the pebbles paving the walkway to go flying. “Steve?” Robin said in his ear.

“I’ll call you later.”

Billy didn’t look nearly as lethal as the night before, but he certainly wasn’t strolling through Disney World. “Why weren’t you at your apartment?”

Steve had a tendency to panic when overwhelmed, all right? He’d reached his limit and exploded, “I don’t know! Because you didn’t say why or when? Because I’m not one of your poodles? I’m a person who’s allowed to live their life like - like - normal?”

Billy blinked at him, his brows lifting until he said incredulously, “Poodles?”

“A trained dog! You know what I mean.” Steve waved his injured hand for emphasis and grimaced for it. “You’re suspicious as hell. Don’t think I’ll do anything you ask just because the sex was good - great. Whatever.”

A smirk began to warm Billy’s features. “Poodles.”

Steve’s hair bobbed over his face as he nodded. “Yeah? My aunt had two of ‘em. They were assholes. What are you not getting here?”

Billy laughed a little and, as he stepped close to him, Steve began to wonder if the park was...emptier, than it usually was on a Friday.

“You’re prettier than a poodle. And more disobedient than I ever tolerate, Steve.”

He tried to steel his jaw, but Steve had long since given up adolescent charades of hauteur. He shrugged, “What does that mean? You want your TV and router back? Are you going to sabotage my health insurance if I say no?”

Billy’s eyes lolled under a slow blink. “I’m not revoking your health insurance.”

Steve’s shoes touched Billy’s even though they had the space of the whole park. “Then what are we doing? I’m just some nobody. You’re clearly a somebody.”

“You’re not a nobody to me,” Billy finished, his breath tickling Steve’s lips. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that again.”

“Bossing me around isn’t going to end well for either of us. Especially if you can’t even believe me when I’m injured at work with an audience to vouch for - ”

Billy kissed him, but it wasn’t a hard, silencing kiss. It was one of Billy’s little touches. His cravings. To touch Steve. To share his air.

Steve’s brows furrowed and a conflicted moan hummed in his throat. His unharmed hand found Billy’s chest, and the latter took it as his cue to lace his fingers behind Steve’s back.

He’d barely broken the kiss before he started to say, “What we’re doing, is going to my car. You’re going to let me taste your dick behind my tinted windows because I’m done being considerate. Then we’ll go back to my place. I’ll give you the tour, and you’ll choose which room we fuck in first.”

Steve’s eyes ached with lust and how long he’d held them open. He gulped dryly. “This was an inconclusive argument.”

Billy smiled and turned them both to continue along out of the park.

#harringrove #neonponders #lovebillyhargrove #mafia au #ficlet #this steve with this billy

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confusednarcissistwrites · 4 years

Note

Could you write a jealous timmy fic pls?

AHHH so this is pretty much pure fluff lol I feel like there’s a lot of angsty jealousy fics out there so I wanted to try and do something a little different. hope you guys like it!! ☺️💛

Jealous? (T.C.)

(cursing, smut, flufffff)

“Baby, I’m late! I gotta run,” you giggled, pressing the puckered lips of your doting boyfriend away as you pulled on your shoes.

“Ughhh fineeeee,” Timothée whined, following you to the door like a puppy. “Have a good day, baby doll.”

You grinned, pecking his lips. “You too, cutie.”

You’d been filming intermittently for the past few months on a local indie project. It was hard not to be daunted by Timothée’s big name films, but your heart was in dinky, little indie projects with weird motifs, and you were perfectly content to stay in your niche acting there in New York. It kept you close to him.

You’d only been together for about six months, but you could tell that this wasn’t a short term type thing. This was your first project since you and Timothée had gotten together, and he’d already been incredibly supportive every step of the way. It was almost like you had your own personal cheerleader every day.

Once you made it to the studio, you realized you had missed a text from Timmy.

T💕: “u forgot ur lunch :(“

You: “dang it :/ I’m sure I can find something around here tho”

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, heading into your dressing room to get your hair and makeup done for the day. About halfway through, your director knocked on the door and popped his head inside. He was all smiles, eager to get into the scenes for the day. “Hey, Y/N! Just wanted to let you know we are starting with 32 today!”

“Great, thank you, Derek!” you responded, grabbing up your script in between your makeup artist’s brush strokes. You flipped through the marked up pages, landing on the scene.

“Ooh, you’ll need some extra setting spray today!” sang Marrissa, giving you a playful wink as she finished up the avant-garde paint job on your face and began setting it with powder.

After getting dressed, you strode out to the set, feeling excited and confident for the day’s shoot. The schedule was packed, but you were ready for it.

•••

It was less than an hour after you had left that Timothée became bored. You’d left him a grocery list, but he couldn’t imagine how dreary the supermarket aisles would be without your puns and odd-ball fun facts about preservatives. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit silly for missing you so much.

He decided that he’d go pick up lunch from your favorite restaurant and bring it to you since you’d left your lunch at home; he knew how rough catered lunches could be at times.

It was about noon when he arrived at the studio, entering quietly as he knew they were likely filming somewhere nearby. He greeted the staff he passed, some looking at him with wide eyes and making him chuckle to himself a bit, but most had seen him with you before. He was instructed to the set and eventually found his way to you. What he was greeted with, however, stopped him dead in his tracks.

You were practically naked, your body only draped in a sheer, flowy gown that left little to the imagination. An actor circled you, his eyes hungry and predatory. In a snap of movement, he was on you. Timothée watched in shock as he gripped your throat, feverishly kissing you. You, completely immersed in character, reciprocated, releasing a soft whine audible to the crew.

And Timothée.

He, of course, logically knew you were simply acting in a role, but to see such a thing made his stomach twist and ache. Half of him was astounded by your talent and beauty, but it was nearly completely overshadowed by his jealousy.

An abrupt call of “CUT!” pulled him from the trance, both you and the actor stepping away from each other. It took you a few moments to notice him, but, the moment you did, your face lit up, and you hurried over to him.

“Oh my goodness! What are you doing here, mon amour,” you grinned, pulling him into a quick kiss. He smiled back, but you instantly could see it was a bit forced. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Timothée shook his head, presenting your lunch to you. “I just brought you food! I was worried you wouldn’t find anything around here, and I wanted to see you,” he confessed, blushing a bit.

You tilted your head. “Thank you, Timo. That’s very sweet, but what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong!”

“Mm, never play poker,” you teased, continuing to press his buttons.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s- honestly, it’s stupid. Can we go to your room?”

Suddenly, it clicked. “Oh my god, it was the scene, wasn’t it?” you gasped, leading him to your room and closing the door behind you.

“Y/N…” he warned.

“It totally was!! Babe, you kiss other actors all the time; you know how it is!”

“Okay, yeah, but- I just, ya know, haven’t seen you do it before!! It was just a little.. startling I guess,” he stuttered, clearly flustered and defensive, his arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, you don’t dress like this at home!”

You set your lunch down, letting out a snort. “Darling, I’m also not typically the damned ghost of a duke’s daughter at home either,” you deadpanned, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped instinctually around your waist, pulling you close. “Are you jealous, Timothée?” You wore a cocky grin, finding him incredibly endearing.

“I just don’t like seeing other guys all over my girl; is that a crime?” he whined, making pouty faces at you and making you giggle. He wasn’t one to be upset over much for very long.

“Mm, I love when you call me that,” you sighed, biting your lip at him.

He very promptly reacted to your shift in tone, raising a brow at you. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, doll.” His voice was quiet and low, making you grin.

“Oh, you’ll finish, alright.” His eyes went wide as you pushed him back onto the couch with a giggle, placing yourself in his lap and tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so baadddd,” he sang, giving your ass a playful squeeze. You rocked against his growing bulge, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Your costume pooled around you both as you continued to grind against him; the thrill of the possibility of getting caught spurred you on, much to Timothée’s delight. His lips latched onto your throat eagerly. He wished he could leave a little sign to remind your scene partner of his place but decided against it in fear of you getting scolded.

“Only for you, babe,” you hummed. In a flurry of fabrics, you slipped down the floor, kneeling between his spread legs.

Timmy was pleasantly surprised, chewing on his lip as you made quick work of his belt and fly. He was already incredibly turned on. You removed his length from his jeans, pumping him up and down while gazing up at him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, sliding down in his seat. You took him into your mouth, knowing you didn’t have as much time as you’d like. You circled your tongue around his sensitive head, relishing the soft groan he let out. You licked a wide stripe along the underside, feeling him twitch in your hand. The gratification of watching him feel so good was nearly enough to get you off all on its own.

He gently gathered your hair, holding it out of your face as you began to bob your head up and down his length. “Holy shit, baby. Ugh, your mouth..” he babbled mindlessly, hips twitching up toward you every so often. You weren’t able to fit all of him into your mouth, so your hands aided in the effort, one following your lips while the other squeezed his thigh or roamed over his stomach occasionally. Feeling warmed up, you pressed yourself further, taking him down your throat until you managed to reach his base. You held for as long as you could before pulling back, gasping for air; he was no easy fit. He cursed, his slick cock twitching against his stomach while you caught your breath. He bit the back of his hand to keep from getting too loud. You quickly went back to work, sensing he was getting closer.

You watched his pretty, hazel eyes roll back as you sped up. “Fu-fuck, Y/N, don’t stop,” he whimpered, his free hand tugging at his own hair as he tumbled toward his climax. Suddenly, his whole body went tense, his head falling back in a silent shout as he spilled his lust into your waiting mouth. You did you best to swallow all he had to give, not wanting to make a mess. He trembled softly and let out sighs as he came down from his high. You pulled off of him with a little pop, biting your lip up at him while he tucked himself back into his jeans. You pulled yourself back up onto the couch next to him, grabbing his chin and pulling him into a lustful kiss.

“See? No reason to be jealous,” you purred, bumping his nose with your own.

“Jesus…” he panted, laughing and running his hands over his face as he soaked in what had just happened. “You’re something else.”

You giggled and hopped up, wiping away your watery eyes in the mirror, readjusting your costume, and drinking some water; you hoped your voice wouldn’t be too hoarse for your next scenes.

Timmy followed after you like a little puppy, wrapping himself around you from behind. He was always so cuddly after an orgasm. “Mmmm, I’d love to return the favor,” he hummed, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders.

You grinned, leaning back into him. “Ugh, I wish. But I have to get back to set now, my love.” He stuck out his bottom lip, pouting at you through the mirror. “You’ll have to make it up to me later.”

He walked you back to set, his fingers tangled with yours and a little smug smile on his face; anyone could have guessed he just got some.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he hummed, smiling like a fool. You stood on your toes to peck his lips, but the moment you pulled away, he pulled you right back again, locking lips with you heatedly for a few seconds more. You blushed hotly, hearing a few whistles coming from the cast and crew. It was only after he pulled away and headed for the door that you saw your scene mate standing a few feet away.

#timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet request #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet fluff #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet request #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #confusednarcissistwrites #request

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 4 years

Text

Summertime Story

Summary: The Lantern Night people had come to visit town! Fireworks, food stalls, festival games! Helping Mammon pay off his debt! Underneath this festive atmosphere a single wish blossoms in your heart,

“I want this moment to last forever...”

Based on the Summer Festival Event.

Rated: T for Teasing Mammon about outdoor sex ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Tags: Established Relationship, Too Much Love for Mammon, Yearning, Love Words are: Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, with a dash of Receiving Gifts, B-I-N-G-O.

The day had begun in a peaceful manner, and you were enjoying a rare moment to yourself in which Mammon was not particularly in need of your affection, in this case it meant that the two of you were just holding hands underneath the dining table and eating breakfast with one hand. It was peaceful precisely because Levi wasn’t making a fuss over it, Belphie and Satan wasn’t throwing an oil tanker to the fire and neither was Lucifer frowning over it.

Summer had come into Devildom and it was officially, a few months since you had been part of the Exchange Program, and a few months since forming a pact with Belphie. During that time, you had done your best to juggle time between the six of them and pursuing Mammon. It had been a rough time, since more often than not your chances either backfired or Mammon himself would end up ruining it. However with the power of love (lol) you were able to successfully confess your love with help from Levi and Asmo and now Mammon and you were going steady for a total of three weeks.

And now you were enjoying a breakfast “date” with Mammon, skillfully ignoring the other background characters (lol). You had been tuning out the conversation, focused on the rare karaage Mammon had brought home last night for you, when your ears had heard the words “casino” and “debt” come out from Mammon’s mouth.

“Eh? You went to a casino without me?” You blurted out.

Which caught the attention of the others. Asmo already had the teasing look on his face as he said, “How cute~ Hey! Mammon how does it feel like having a girlfriend that attached to you?”

“I-It’s not fair! I want someone to say that kind of thing to me too!” Levi whined.

“I love you so much!” Mammon blurted out with a red face, an apology of sorts for not bringing you out with him to play.

“Hehehe... you’re so easily pleased aren’t you?” Belphie teased you as you snuggled up and melted into Mammon’s warm embrace.

You opted to ignore him and instead told Mammon, “If you needed money, you should have come to me!”

“Oi! You understand he’s like that because you keep on spoiling him right?” Satan said, worried at how easily you spoiled his idiot older brother.

“?”

The look of confusion on your face easily told him that you had become an idiot for love. But a quick glance at Mammon rubbing your face together and intermittently kissing your face in different places made him realize you still, at the very least, had your IQ points.

“Tch! Both of your deserved each other” Satan grumbled as he looked away at the sickening display of affection.

“Anyways! Please help me out with the stall!” Mammon begged, “I can’t just use my wife’s money like that after all.”

“I’ll ignore what you just called our Master but sure I’ll help you out~” Asmo agreed.

“I’ll do the same” Beel added.

“Me too” Levi spoke through gritted teeth.

“In that case I’ll do the same and head out for the library to figure out what stall we should do” Satan replied and headed out.

“Well, it seems like you’re having fun so I’ll do the same.” Belphie said before finishing up his breakfast.

“It’s rare to see all of you this cooperative” Lucifer commented as he watched with wide eyed disbelief that his troublesome brothers were cooperating this smoothly.

“We all probably have ulterior motives though...” You replied, still snuggled in Mammon’s hold and now being fed by him.

“We?”

You hummed and addressed Lucifer’s unsaid question,”Yep. I just want to spend time with Mammon.”

Hearing this words only invigorated Mammon’s love for you further and made Lucifer torn between exasperation and fondness for your love of Mammon.

After the brainstorming session on the library, the whole lot of you with the exception of Lucifer started to practice making Candy Apples.

Carefully following Satan's instructions Belphie and you poured the sugar into the dyed water carefully. All of you watched in fascination as the sugar melted into the water.

"Hehe this feels like we're about to make poisoned candy apples~" You were amused at the thought of such mischief.

"Just be honest and say this feels like we're a couple of witches brewing poison" Satan outed your inner thoughts.

You turned your head around and gave him the kitty blep. Belphie had interrupted the fight before it could even escalate with a well-timed question,

"Should we stir it?"

"We probably should? I remember that burnt sugar tastes bad" You frowned as your brain recalled the taste of your burnt caramel pudding.

Your answer had led to Belphie to start stirring in panic. Mammon, your darling demon, in his impatience, grabbed the stirrer from Belphie's hand and began to stir enthusiastically.

"Oh crystals are forming?" Asmo looked at the cauldron, you took a peek as well and realized that there was indeed crystals.

'Ah...I messed up...' You looked sadly at the wasted efforts just as Belphie angrily asked,

"Whose idea was it to stir it?!"

Levi, your saviour, decided to shift the blame on Belphie. You sent him a grateful smile and secretly decided to pamper him a little bit more, once the opportunity arises.

"Let's just feed this batch to Beel" You told them as you took the tray away and delivered it to Beel.

"Ahahaha, you're treating Beel like a disposal unit!" Asmo laughed in amusement as he recalled all the times you had fed Beel your failed cooking and desserts that just didn't meet your standards.

You blushed as you remembered how much time the three of you had spent baking and cooking just so you could give a home-made lunch set to Mammon. It had ended in vain due to a mishap with a lower demon but you couldn't deny the happy feeling of Mammon eating the fallen spicy squid rice ball you had made for him.

"It's delicious! You should cook for me next time~!" He had teased you.

"This is just me being practical..." You hmphed at him and gently stomped your way out of the kitchen as they began to make a new batch.

When you were faraway enough to not overhear anything, Asmo chimed,

"She really does spoil all of us doesn't she?"

Mammon happily agreed, "Isn't she just the best!"

"Of course you'd say so, out of all us, you're the one she spoils the most!" Levi grumbled as he began washing a new batch of apples.

Satan hummed to show his agreement, "You must be so happy getting exactly the kind of lover you want."

Mammon blanked out for a moment before he remembered what Satan was talking about.

"I want someone who'd invest on me as much as I'd invest on them!"

He remembered the sticker you had sent at that time. Your cute and almost childish enthusiasm and your following comically rude disinterest at the following answers. It was in the early days of your stay when they were all interested in you, not as you were, but as a human they happened to be living with.

Mammon smiled softly and replied, "I am! That's why I'm doing this for her!"

Satan stared at him in shock.

You came back to see that others were resting while Belphie was still going at it.

"Anything I can do to help?" You asked him as you silently settled across him and stared into the cauldron.

"Keep me company? It's rare to see you and Mammon not attached to the hip." Belphie answered, soft smile gracing his lips.

You nodded your agreement and proceeded to talk to him about mundane stuff and the occasional gossip you would get from your succubi and incubi Tea Appreciation Club members. It was an open secret among your demons that the club was really just a front for Gossiping. And Diavolo allowed it simply for the fun and sometimes useful nuggets of information you'd tell him on your weekly report about the Exchange Program.

"Oh! I think you've got it down Belphie!" You noticed the perfectly melted candy and Belphie happily ordered you to prepare the tray of apples.

"Aye aye, Captain!" You saluted him and then quickly assembled the tray and watched him pour the candy over the apples.

The two of you watched the candy dry in glee and cheered.

“Let’s do the next batch?”

“Let’s take a taste test first,” Belphie replied as he took one candy apple and gave it to you “Here, take it.”

You gingerly took the apple and happily took a large bite on the side. You closed your eyes and gleefully savored the sweetness of the candy that worked well with the light sourness of the green apple.

“Is it delicious?” Belphie asked.

“Yep! You should have a bite!”

You moved the apple towards him and Belphie took a bite on the opposite side. Seeing him eat the apple made you laugh as you remembered the story of Eden. Belphie had looked at you in confusion and you explained,

“Bit on the nose isn’t it?”

You smiled and gestured to him, the apple and then yourself, “A demon, an apple and a woman.”

Realization sinks in and Belphie laughs lightly. “Well the apple certainly wasn’t green at that time.”

Your eyes widen at the implication of Belphie’s words however he refuses to elaborate what he meant.

The next couple of days were spent building and designing the stall. It had been fun painting the sign board, coming up with the prices just on the side of a little bit pricey without outright scamming the festival goers, flirting with Mammon, convincing Lucifer to let Diavolo drop by (Barbatos had seen through your attempt at free advertising), and scheming to get Lucifer's fan club to drop by (Lucifer had caught wind of it and you were given an impromptu running exercise). As the final preparations came to a finish, you couldn't help but ask a few questions about the festival itself,

"Ne ne Satan~" You poked at Satan's arms "Do you know if there would be fireworks shows at the end?"

Seeing your inquisitive look Satan began telling you what to expect at the Festival,

“These demons have different culture than the ones you typically see at RAD, theirs share a commonality with the human world’s Japanese Culture. An example would be the food stalls and the game stalls, the clothes called Yukata, animal masks, fireworks show and of course the Bonfire dance.��

“What’s the differences then?” You asked.

“Well...I guess the difference lies on the intent behind the bonfire dance?” Satan mumbled as he held his chin with his hand in thinking position, “Up there, the humans do the Bon Dance to guide their spirit ancestors to the underworld, in here the Lantern Night folk lights the fire to welcome those who arrived.”

“Lord Diavolo rents them an entire mountain range to use for this occasion,” Lucifer added “Though this event had always been here even before we arrived.”

“Then it’s just sad Dia-chan never got around to drop by until now~” You frowned at the thought that it took a long time before Diavolo even considered to drop by the festival until you invited him (with harmless ulterior motives that Barbatos let go).

“Dia-chan?” Lucifer repeated with a thunderous expression on his face.

“Get over it, I’m his human best friend.” You told him non-nonchalantly and wandered off to help and flirt (again) with Mammon.

The day of the festival arrived and as all of you were preparing to head out, Asmo had arrived with presents.

“Oh! Is it food?” You asked excitedly, trusting that Asmo knew your tastes by now but seeing the pout on his face you knew that any hope of having a light snack on the way was null.

“It isn’t! Jeez, why are you like Beel whenever someone gifts you something?” Asmo whined and you laughed at him.

“Because food is life.” You answered and then winked at Beel who was happy to support your claims.

“So what present did you get for us?” You asked once you had your fun and let Asmo do his thing.

“Ta-da~! Levi and I made clothes for us to wear at the festival~!” Asmo handed out the paper bags to the rest and presented yours with a flourish, “This one was specially made for you~ I had to hunt down the exact fabric and accessories just to make it come true!”

Seeing the proud look on his eyes, you happily praised Asmo and then some. You didn’t forget to praise Levi as well and happily watched his face turn red from embarrassment with your heaps of praise before inviting him to cosplay with you sometime.

“Hehe~” You hid your giddiness behind the wide and long sleeves of the soft white kimono. Admiring the detailed phoenix embroidery on the left side, while pink hand painted cherry blossoms littered at the bottom of the hems. the thin gold threads that formed clouds made it sure that the phoenix was soaring upwards.

“Thanks a lot, Asmo! I really like this!” You thanked Asmo once more before praising him for his cuteness and assured him he’d be a body breaker with how good he looked.

As each of the brothers went out to show their festival clothes, you made sure to praise each and every single one of them. Naturally, Mammon received most of your praise and appreciation, you made sure to thank Asmo once more for his nice assist.

“Mammon you look so handsome in your yukata!” You praised your boyfriend and made sure that he knew you were throwing very appreciative looks on his well-toned abs even if it was partially covered by bandages. You even patted his chest, taking the chance to grope his firm pectorals.

“Oi! Do that kind of thing at our bedroom!” Mammon lightly admonished you, as he gently grabbed your wandering hands and held you tightly against him.

“We can do it too if we find a dark secluded place in the forest...” You whispered to him and then loudly added, “You can grope me too if you want~! I’m allowing you to do so! Actually please do so!”

“Oi! Don’t tempt me here!”

You laugh at his agitation and kiss him before quickly running away with Asmo and Levi on tow.

After setting up the stall, you and Mammon were on the first shift. You watched in amazement as Mammon turned on his charms and easily sold the first two pieces of Candy Apples. You silently thanked your lucky stars that your Mammon wasn’t a ladies man but was instead just as utterly devoted to you as you were towards him.

“Hey, you should try calling out for customers too” Mammon gently nudged you to call out for customers and you gathered up your courage to at least contribute to the sales.

“Hey, Handsome!” You called out to the fox demon, “Come try our glossy candy apples!”

“Is there anything special about it?” The fox demon asked you.

Your mischief senses tingling to make a sale made you answer, “The special thing about it is that we sell it as a pair! Give the other half to the one you like and you’re guaranteed to have a wonderful event~!”

The fox demon blinked at you and hesitantly asked, “How did you— ”

“Handsome Fox-sama~ Our apples are guaranteed to help you have a beautiful memory from this event~ also seeing how much effort you put in tonight, a little luck from Enmusubi-sama won’t hurt!” You winked at him and you knew that he had fallen for your sca—sales speech.

“Then I’ll take two, please!”

“Here you go~! Two candy apples to go!” Mammon wonderfully assisted you and the two of you spent the shift doing excellent sca—sales work.

As the shift came to an end, Mammon began asking you what you wanted to do. You thought about it for the moment and said, “I want to see all the stalls while holding hands with you! And I want to see if they have fortune telling stalls too!”

Mammon blushed at your words and shyly said, “O-ok! As a reward for doing well, I’ll take you around and do everything that you want!”

“Then in that case I’d like to add that I want to dance with you around the bonfire. watch the fireworks with you at the end of this festival, and share a kiss that could lead into something else with you in a dark secluded space.” You looked at him in the eyes, conveying the seriousness of your wish.

“The-the last one might just be a bit...”Mammon trailed off as he stammered and felt his face heat up.

You made sure to show him your well-honed (courtesy of Asmo) puppy-dog eyes. And boosting up your charm just to get a sweet, passionate kiss from Mammon like both of you were part of a shoujo manga special.

“Grah! I got it! I got it! I’ll ki-kiss you at the end of the fire works show so stop giving me those eyes already!”

“Hurry up and leave you shameless PDA couple.” Satan told both of you off with dead fish eyes.

You did as Satan said and quickly pulled Mammon away from the stall to start of the date. The two of you idled around, sampling snacks and feeding each other.

“Here, have a drink. You’ve earned it” Mammon placed the cup of iced tea in your face and you took a sip from the straw.

‘Indirect kiss~ get!’ You thought happily as you drank.

“You did really great compared to how you used to be when talking to other demons” He praised you as you finished taking a drink, he tucked in the stray strands of hair away from your face and you blushed at the intimacy of his actions.

“It was all thanks to you...”

You looked away from his loving eyes, and squeezed his hand tight. You knew that most changes you had could be attributed to Mammon and your never ending desire to keep his eyes on you.

“Wh-what’s with this cute act!? Do you want a kiss or something?” He stammered and you could only shyly snuggle closer to him and nod slightly.

“Yes, please.”

Mammon leads you away from the crowd and prying eyes, the two of you were now tucked behind the stalls and Mammon’s hand was gently cupping your face.

“You’re really spoiled you know that?” He complains and yet his eyes were soft and fond of you.

You had always heard that eyes were the window to the soul and Mammon’s eyes told you everything he felt for you. And as always you couldn’t help but drown in them. You watch his face get closer to yours and you closed your eyes as his breath mingled with yours.

Mammon’s kisses would always begin in this way, soft and cautious. Always giving you a chance to pull away, even if everything in you would always seek him out, he kisses you like you were something infinitely more precious than the gems and countless treasures he stored away from the House of Lamentation. He kisses you in a way that never allows you to doubt for a single moment that you weren’t important.

He pours everything that he feels into his kisses and you accept all of it and give him back everything that you are. You drown in his love and let yourself grow weak in the knees and Mammon, your devoted demon, never fails to catch you and hold you close to him.

The rest of the shifts you had were a blur of events as your mind kept on wandering to the kiss Mammon gave you behind the stalls. It had felt different and you didn’t know why. This in turn made the situation feel like it was the start of the Exchange Program once more, and everyone but Mammon could see that you were crushing on him. The difference was that this time Mammon was aware of the blush on your cheeks, the reason behind your increased heartbeat and coquettish looks that you’d send to him.

He would without fail take his chances to payback for all of the times you’d tease him and you would take it like a champ even if you stammered or blushed your way through it.

Levi who couldn't stand it anymore got fed up and told the both of you to go PDA somewhere else.

“Be back before the fireworks show.” Lucifer said as Mammon took you away and proceeded to do everything that you asked of him.

The two of you garnered attention with your matching themed festival clothes, the dragon and the phoenix. Female demons would sigh and look at envy with the careful and gently way Mammon treated you, his doting and affectionate looks towards you made you feel muddle-headed while increasing the envy of the female demons.

The unsatisfied female demons who were single made up their mind to buy the blessed candy apples, while the ones who weren’t glared at their useless lovers and asked why they can’t be treated as sweetly as you. Thus, every demon that got criticized for not being as romantic as Mammon silently cursed your boyfriend in their heart, you were oblivious to this of course.

The two of you drank the free cup of sweet sake given away for those who got their fortunes told, and continued to leisurely walk around the stalls while holding hands. You spotted a stall selling couple charms and asked, “Can we check out that stall? I want to buy matching charms.”

Hearing the word “Matching” Mammon began walking towards the stall and enthusiastically began picking the ones that would look best for the both of you. Among the numerous charms you saw a pair of maneki neko and took it. Examining it carefully for damages, you turned to Mammon and said, “Darling, what about this?”

“Hm? What does it do?”

The vendor seeing her chance answered Mammon, enticed by the idea of gaining more luck when it comes to money, he bought it for the two of you. As all vendors of charms are to do, the crow demon lady also advertised a red thread of bracelet as a couple charm. Knowing the lore behind red threads, you shyly handed over twice the amount and bought it for you and Mammon.

Both of you thanked the lady demon and went off. You were admiring the woven red thread bracelet on your wrist, adoring the idea that you had tied your fate with Mammon. Seeing how happy you looked at something that was cheap, Mammon wondered if the bracelet you had tied to his wrist meant something deeper but he remained silent and instead opted to admire the pleased look of your face and fell in love with you all over again.

He tugged you closer to him and bent down a little bit to whisper to your ear, “ The bonfire dance is about to start, let’s go?”

Your ears reddened at the warmth of his breath and you remembered the kiss again, you could only weakly lean against him and nod your head. Mammon, seeing you so docile and practically transmitting your love for him to all demons and angels within range, made him smug. He leads you carefully towards the bonfire, and masterfully leads you to dance. Your hands clasped together, bodies close, and the warm light of the fire as both of you gazed at each other lovingly was the envy of all who were watching the dance.

You knew that Mammon was no angel, but the way the light shone upon him made him look so soft, and your love for him was overflowing that it hurt. But it was a pain you had grown to be familiar with. A small silent proof that you were capable of loving, and that you were worthy of being loved back.

As the time for the fireworks drew near, Mammon and you slipped away and headed to a spot he knew. It was up into the mountains and a secluded viewing platform that was overgrown with trees and grasses.

You glanced down to your linked hands and smiled at the realization that not once had he let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but keep on smiling, smiling so much for the whole evening that your face hurt. Today’s Mammon had made you realized how lucky you were to love and be loved by someone like him.

Mammon who was always considerate of you, silently taking care of you, and always looking out for your best interest. You recalled all the times, he’d cook for you and secretly put all the best parts on your plate, the times he’d just hang around you all day when you’d wake up with a heavy heart and body. You remembered how he had happily supported you with your naivety of saving that other version of you, how he always had your back and supported you unwavering in his belief on your abilities even when you doubted yourself.

“Look!” Mammon called your attention as he pointed into the sky.

The first firework exploded like a blossoming flower on the sky, and then came the next and the next until the Devildom sky was decorated in varieties of colored fireworks. You were mesmerized and couldn’t help but let out a soft, “It’s beautiful...”

You turned to Mammon and met his eyes, soft and utterly in love with you.

“You-you should be watching the display...” You hid your blush behind the sleeves of your kimono.

Mammon let go of your hand and you looked at him in confusion, he chuckles at your displeased look and instead brings out a velvet box. Your heart stammers and you feel blood rushing to your ears.

He calls your name softly, preciously, sweetly, as if it was as holy as his Father’s name and to him, your names was perhaps even holier than God’s. A name meant to be said only with love, a name that carried so much meaning for him. You had carved a hole in his heart and filled the empty spaces in him with your love. Your love had changed him irrevocably, remade him into a better version of him, made him unable to think of a future that didn’t have you in it and fear such possibilities.

You had made him care for you in a way that he had forgotten since he fell, and Mammon wanted you to take responsibility for it because he was no longer just the Avatar of Greed, one of the seven Rulers of Hell. He was now your Mammon, your lover, your most beloved demon, and most devoted avatar.

“Is this...?” You trailed off, not daring to hope too much on what a small box could mean.

“There is no such thing as marriage among demons not in the way humans do, not in the way angels used to have...but I can give you my vow, to love you as I always had in this obscure and inhuman way where I give all of myself to you.”

You tear up as his words envelop you and Mammon continues, ever so gentle with you as he whispers the words only meant for your ears, “Let me continue loving you in spaces between my ribs and in my heart, in the shadowed and rough edges of my soul, allow me to join you in your darkest days and happiest hours, i’ll weather the wind and rain for you...all I ask is that you give me the entirety of yourself...the bits and pieces that you hide because you think I am capable of being disgusted by you, those parts of you that you hate because it is the worst of you and you think it is ugly.”

“Mammon...”

“I don’t know how to love the way you humans do, all I know is that I love you as simple as the fact that my heart, sometime ago, without me knowing began to beat for you.”

Your tears flow, and you could only give him a choked up, “Yes.”

Mammon smiles with tears in his eyes as he slides the ring into your ring finger and kisses you on your forehead. You do the same to him and the two of you snuggle together and watched as the show slowly came to and end. You stare at his content face, and you can’t help but wish,

“I want this moment to last forever...”

Mammon blinks before his a wide mischievous and doting smile blossoms on his face, “In that case let’s start the tradition of spending this festival together from now on!”

You happily agreed and once more linked your hands together, red bracelets intertwined without you or him realizing.

#mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon #obeymax #summer festival #obey me

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softtofustew · 3 years

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an odyssey | afterword

rating: T

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin/Han Jisung

summary: Somewhere in the galaxy of the Stella Primum, Lieutenant Han is the best fighter on his team, a real ace shooter, with five gold stars to show. Too bad Second Lieutenant Hwang is not only great at battling the Ordinem, he’s also got disgustingly perfect looks to match, and now Jisung’s stuck in the same spaceship with him for possibly the most impossible task of their lives. Or the one where a rivalry is brewed across the skies and stars, until Jisung realises what there is to flying beside Hyunjin on a mission to save the galaxy.

if you haven’t read it yet, read here.

this is an afterword to ‘an odyssey’, where i write about the origin of the story, the characters, and my struggles of writing :’)

(i) The Origin

I’ve had this work in my WIPs since, believe it or not, January of this year. I’ve had this idea for so, so long. I wrote it intermittently throughout this year, with a scene or two in September, then October.

Due to my exams, though, I couldn’t write as much as I wanted to. That’s why I only really started writing ‘an odyssey’ back in mid-November. The good thing was that I had more time to plan this out, because frankly, this is perhaps the heaviest fic I’ve written in terms of plot so far.

I can’t for the life of me remember where this story idea planted itself in my head. All I knew was that I like space AUs, I adore Hyunjin and Jisung’s friendship, and I love enemies to lovers. Realising there weren’t any fics out there that combined the three, I knew it was my time to shine. Or something.

(ii) The Plot

The plot was the trickiest to pull off. I’ve written an urban fantasy here and there, but I’m pretty sure if I reread them thoroughly, I’m bound to find a couple of plot holes.

There were a lot of elements to cover: the Prophecy. The five gems. The push-pull relationship between Jisung and Hyunjin. The journey to discovering the whereabouts of the last Gemma. The last boss fight with a Governor who could wield the Force. There was!!!! So!!!! Much!!!! Going!!!! On!!!!!

Perhaps if I reread ‘an odyssey’, I might find another plot hole or two; who knows? For now, though, I feel quite contented with this work of mine. Considering it’s my first time writing something as long as this (50K+ are you kidding me?), I feel this is a first step for me to continue expanding my horizons when it comes to writing, to continue to challenge myself to write something different, something bold. Something new.

(iii) The Characters

I rewatched the Two Kids Room and One Kid Room episodes so many times, over and over again. There’s a reason why this story is centred around Jisung and Hyunjin, and why it’s written from Jisung’s perspective.

Their relationship is, after all, something coherently interesting. They really said “enemies to friends but make it irl”. I guess I took that concept and sort of exaggerated the extent of their ‘hate’ for each other, which isn’t exactly hate to begin with. The further you read on, the more you’ll realise that they don’t exactly hate each other — they just got off on the wrong footing, and have never tried turning back to start over once more.

It’s written from Jisung’s perspective because personally, I wanted the story to be told from the eyes of someone who was prideful, who was eager and determined, and who wanted to show his worth to everyone else. I feel like perhaps I didn’t expand on characterising Jisung to the fullest advantage possible, though, which remains a slight regret of mine.

Another reason why I wanted this to be written from Jisung’s POV is because we can find out how Jisung feels about Hyunjin throughout the story. When he realises whose son Hyunjin is, he’s torn between wanting to pity Hyunjin and keeping things between them the same as they always have. (If I were in his position, though, I don’t know what I would have done lol.) It was hard to try and interpret his emotions, but there’s that.

Someone commented once asking if we’d ever get Hyunjin’s POV. Sadly, one of my biggest turn-offs is the switching of POVs in stories when it’s not entirely necessary haha. As much as I would want to know what Hyunjin is thinking when they’re arguing, or when they’re fighting, I like to keep on the suspension line. It gives you the feeling of immersing yourself as the Jisung in the story, of only seeing things from one perspective.

As for the other characters, there wasn’t enough time to expand on all of them (for example, I mentioned Seungmin several times throughout the story, but really, he speaks only once haha). And as your fellow StayDay, it was definitely fun for me to include a few members of Day6. (please don’t ask me why I thought of ‘PJ and Honey’ while writing. I was probably hungry.)

I don’t know if I’ll continue to expand on the characters in this same universe, but it would be fun to think of the other relationships, for example Chan and Felix, or Changbin with Minho and Seungmin. (someone please save the seungbinho tag!!!!!!)

As far as characterisation goes, I’ve still got so much to learn. For now, though, I hope you enjoyed the dynamics between the characters and how Jisung and Hyunjin learnt to grow within a span of six chapters.

(iv) The Writing Process

Granted, the writing bit was a little easier in the beginning, but as I delved myself deeper into the story, I found it harder and harder to express the emotions I wanted to deliver in the story. One of the hardest chapters for me to write by far was the last chapter. I wrote two versions of the last chapter, simply because I felt the first version was too lacklustre for the ending of such a long story haha.

I had a clear outline of my story, but I did end up extending it from the initial 5 chapters to 6. For the first time, though, I didn’t add any random elements to the story, unlike how i wrote this story last year haha. The lesson I’ve learnt is that I should ALWAYS have a brief outline of the plot — detailed enough to cover the entire story, but brief enough to give me some creative freedom mid-writing.

The excitement of writing honestly wore off near the last few chapters. I’ve realised the importance of reading unfinished works in this way. Writers really need some form of motivation to keep them writing their chaptered works. So if you’re one of the real ones who started reading this even before it was completed, kudos to you. I really appreciate it.

Overall, writing this was fun. Hopefully I don’t need to do this again though; I absolutely hate writing chaptered fics because of all the time and effort put into them. I’d much rather be a ‘One-Shot Hotshot’ lol.

(v) The End (?)

I left a bit of wondering for the readers in the last chapter. If Atkins was able to wield the Force despite the false pretence that there was no longer any Force-wielders left in the universe, how many more of them could there be?

That leaves an opening for me if I ever wish to return to this alternate universe sometime in the future. The Universe is ever-expanding, and so is our imagination.

(vi) The Inspiration

Obviously, I need to thank Star Wars. I also need to apologise because I absolutely butchered their universe. Fun fact: there was one huge plot hole I had to cover up halfway through writing.

If you’re observant, you might remember the scene where Hyunjin asks Jisung why they didn’t just jump into hyperspace to reach Ilsanis. That’s because I was watching an episode of The Mandalorian where the Mando was forced to fly a ship without a hyperdrive engine, and I almost freaked out right there in the middle of the living room realising how weird that would be if I left the issue unattended in my own work (yikes).

Long story short, I drew elements from the Star Wars universe and created a story of my own. I’ve been asked how I came up with the idea of the Prophecy. Frankly, I don’t know. My brain farts sometimes, I guess. Brain Farts = weird ideas that somehow make sense sometimes.

(vii) Lastly

If you have any more questions you’d like to ask (or plot holes to tell me about *shudders*), do leave me a question in my CC, or holler at me on Twitter (I’m hardly alive here on Tumblr haha). To anyone and everyone who has read ‘an odyssey’, I thank you.

This year has been a funky year, and even worse, it’s the year I had to take my IGCSEs. Writing has always been a way for me to create my own universe and release my tension and emotions, so not being able to write as much as I used to was a little tough.

Writing will continue to be a medium for me to express my emotions and my thoughts while creating stories of my own, so simply by giving my fics a read, you’ve already fuelled my reason to continue to write. Thank you for all the support in ‘an odyssey’!

(why did i write this entire monologue like i’m giving a speech at the Oscars or something lol im so dramatic :”))

#mycommentary

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sunriseintropicisle · 3 years

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Things that makes me happier

I gave up posting number in front of my post title, initially it was to mark whether I reach the goal of posting a writing every week, which made me had to post 52 writings for the year of 2021, and by this point I am pretty sure I am not gonna reach that number so yes, we can forget it.

So I personally feel like recently I am in a better state of being, and have lots of idea coming up in my head. While I still religiously write on my handwritten journal, I feel like writing, in case my nonexistent reader would like to know, or give some inspirations. Lol, like who you are.

No, really, I am just really believe in sharing, and I would love to know if my mundane knowledge or experience be insightful even to only one other person. Because I myself found multiple times that a knowledge/sharing that someone posted online impacted me greatly - hence I am just thinking about the other me who may be seeking the things I am about to say/share.

Things that makes me happier are:

Intermittent Fasting

I have been doing IF for 2 weeks now, and yeah, it makes me feel good. I started initially because, duh, like everyone else, I wanted to lose weight. Some might want to kick me in the ass for saying such thing, and assure me that I have normal body and yada yada. And, as straight forward as it is - I just want to be as skinny as possible. Hahaha. Maybe it is something to do with me very sold into the standard beauty, or maybe it’s got to do with something in the past - I was quite cheeky.

However, even though I always say that I want to lose weight, over the years I have never really made the effort. Some days I took it hard some days it just a normal day, me eating this and that and whatnot. But then I have noted the intention of me wanting to be so skinny, on top of those beauty standard I believe have huge impact in me and a quite hard time in the past for being cheeky is because it simply makes me feel lighter, not holding anything within my body. Because for the context and some TMI, I have a not so good digestion, so yeah. There was a period of the time that I often I feel stuffed and bloated - which felt so uncomfortable, that I can’t stand working while sitting because I felt my stomach is getting on my way.

I tried IF a while back, and it worked for me, so now I decided to try it again now. Intention achieved. I believe it was because the time window for eating that pool all the food I eat in a day to be only consumed for certain times (I do 7 hours, my best convenience). I used to eat on times where, looking back, I was not really hungry, you know. Like breakfast - turned out (I don’t know why I forget about this) that I am not a breakfast person. All through high school I don’t remember myself sitting, eating breakfast in my uniform.

But then I just picked up a habit of eating breakfast while my stomach is actually not really ready for it, which end up making me feel bloated that last long all through lunch and pretty much for the day - and then without me knowing the new day has begin, and the cycle starts all over.

So yeah, IF had helped me to be to schedule my eating time which made my digestion works better I guess, and no more me having a bloated stomach constantly.

Quitting Social Media

Finally I succeed in cutting myself with social media. This, I also had tried in the beginning of the pandemic I guess - went on without social media for weeks and at that time I really felt the benefit and all, until I came back to social media and can not disconnect ever since. Even though I have been wanting to detox myself, but at the same time I felt really dependent on it.

It took me one lows moment of life to finally be able to went cold turkey about disconnecting. It was when I felt frustrated on Twitter news where every day it seems like there were a bad news - people died, people lost jobs, people complaining, the news about our incompetent and corrupt government and so on. Without me realizing, it took a toll on myself. Other than that was me who checking in Linkedin constantly at the time and seeing my friends’ profile whose climbing up the corporate ladder, while I was unsure and questioning whether I am in the right place (sounds like the problem of these days youth who lives in their own bubble, yeah?).

So one Friday where I had one of my breakdown, I went MIA for the weekend to the people who are close to me, as well as to my social media. It’s only been 2 weeks now, but it is safe to say that I can reclaim myself within these times, suddenly lots of thinking came up to me, as if all these times the bad news maybe somewhat oppress it or something. And, I also feel more certain about what is going on my mind/heart.

I believe quitting social media has its downside as well, as like I really am not having an update on the news (90% of my news source is Twitter - how sad yet could not be truer for most of us), I completely blind on our Covid update I even think that Covid is slowing down in the territory. Yeah, as expected you lose win some as well as you lose some, but for now at leas, I decided to win for myself.

Olympic 2020

I have never watched Olympic before, as far as I remember. Nor that I care about it. But this time is different. I believe the fact that we are on privilege to be in the safety of home have a huge part in me having the opportunity to watch the Olympic - thanks for that. For almost two weeks I was hooked to my TV, even one time I was on my TV from 6am to 10pm and watched all the games they aired.

To have the company to watch was a big advantage as well. As now I have my sibling in the house, I teamed up with my sister to watch the Olympic, we both did not know that we enjoyed it so much that we invested in each game we watched. We cheered for athletics, we scream for badminton, we gasped for weightlifting. It was a very fun experience. For almost two weeks I change my work station in front of the TV and so did my sister.

On top of that, what made Olympic special and very intrigued me was the diversity of the athletes. I guess I just did not exposed to such diversity as it was presented in the Olympic. I was presented with some very foreign countries whose name I hardly heard, or the people whose features were different one another.

Questions like why some sports dominated my a certain race while other sports dominated by others also popped out in my head. And not to mention my awed to each of these Olympian athletes when they perform their sports, I always wonder what it takes for them to be there right now - how many years of training, how much tears were sacrificed and relationships had to be let go. There were just so many elements of the Olympics that made me really drawn and invested in it.

Youtube

Surprise, surprise.

Well, my attraction to Youtube recently was different because of the previous para - Olympic. Because of getting really drawn into the Olympic athlete, I was searching lots of reference videos. And as we all know how we are being spied and we are mere a number for these big tech companies, they get to know me better know and present me with more content that I love (or else I had never discovered).

I am not sure what I searched previously, but Youtube chose that I now an avid cultural researcher, jk. Yeah, I watched a lot about something culture-related on Youtube because it is funny, looking back, I was once really attracted to be a global citizen and what not (what a flavor of youth!!), traveling the world, meeting people from other countries, make impact in the NGO (before long I know the NGOs are mostly funded by big corporations as well, heart breaking reality for me).

What I am saying is that the savvy man-made tech of Youtube has made me rediscover my old interest about culture! And I just actually learn that you can learn a lot from Youtube’s comment section, which debates often open up you to things which are (1) people can comment based on data and have every intention to educate other people; and (2) people more often be ignorant, and how much you are on the right stance, with the wrong people, you can still be, yeah wrong.

Somehow the lesson I gained in the Youtube’s comment section was really grounding to me to realize these polar of people, and in the end what you can do is only simply be you because after all, people really will hold on to their own opinion and belief.

Jigsaw Puzzle

RECCOMENDED 100/100. Damn, wasn’t it a good choice when one day I decided to try out jigsaw puzzle to entertained myself while waiting my partner to reply my chat message?

On the one of the breakdown moment I mentioned I believe that I had to have distraction and I thought of either a puzzle or a coloring book. I ended up buying both, but I am positive that I am more drawn to jigsaw puzzle. I first ordered a 1500 piece puzzle and when it first came, I kind of secretly afraid that I will give up. Also my mother being my mother and she was pessimist that I would finish the puzzle.

But one time I was just playing by myself, not expecting anything or even asked anyone to help me (afraid that I put too much task on other people), yet my sister helped me out, and a while after my mom helped we out as well. Resulting in the puzzle finished in 3 days. Soon after I order new puzzle, and so did my sister. Her order came first and it was a 1000 pieces puzzle, which we finished in 2 hours (boo, it turned out to be too easy), and now we are opening up our 3rd puzzle and tried to work on it.

I am just really happy that I discovered it, it is really great way to bond and filling time. And every time I successfully put the pieces together - that just very satisfying feelings! I believe I will have more and more puzzle to come in the near future.

I hope one of the thing above will work out for you and make you happier as well as it had affected me. 🤗

#mentariwrites #mentaridaily #happier #puzzle #lockdown

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damienthepious · 4 years

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tuesday tuesday tuesday time for fic

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 5)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [ao3] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: It's going to be a tense few days, in Rilla's hut.

Chapter Notes: Some mild, chapter specific warnings for people not taking very good care of themselves, like not eating for most of the day and depriving themselves of sleep out of stress. Take care of yourselves!

Arum wakes when she’s just about to change his bandages again. Less than ideal, but when he hisses low and squeezes his eyes more tightly closed she decides to check in verbally first, and she pulls the covers back over him. He wrinkles his snout, wincing up at her through a squint as she leans against the table at his bedside, and then he raises an eyebrow at her.

"I must assume your little operation was at least a reasonable success,” he mutters, not sounding particularly pleased about it. "Considering that I woke again at all."

"Yeah," Rilla says, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was right, and I got it out. You wanna tell me what kind of monster it was that ambushed you, now? Because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna figure it out when I analyze that thing anyway and it’d save me at least a little bit of time, Arum."

"Ambushed, they did not ambush me, I would not be so easily-"

"Back-stabbed, then?"

Arum goes silent, jaw snapping shut. He narrows his eyes. "Why, precisely, does it matter to you, little human? Do you intend to feed the information to your little … friend ? Your little knight ?"

It is Rilla’s turn to go silent for a moment, and then she scowls. “Did he wake you? I told him not to disturb-”

“Woke perfectly well on my own. Could not stay awake, with your persistent little injection still coursing through me, but- I would have thought it a dream, if he did not move the stool to be as far from me as he could be, if it were not still there now.” He pauses. “No, that is not quite true, I don’t think my own mind could have conjured such a distinct annoyance. I would have known he were real regardless.”

“He’s got his charms,” Rilla drawls. “Now, do you feel any different? It’s only been a few hours, but hopefully-”

“I do.” Arum sighs, settling more deeply in the blankets. “There is less… now that the sedative seems to be less present, I feel…”

“Better, hopefully?”

“A layer has been removed. Of the exhaustion, the- pain. It is lessened.”

Rilla smiles, the satisfaction curling through her again, and Arum watches her with puzzled eyes. “ Good .”

He allows her to lift the cup of water by the bedside to his mouth again, allows her to check his eyes, his range of movement, the edges of his frill that cannot be bandaged, and then he winces throughout as she changes his bandages out and checks the offending injury on his midsection, and when she finally resettles the blankets over him he is half-drifting again.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she says, gently teasing, and he frowns, flicks his tail, and sighs, but does not respond. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

She exits, and closes the door behind her.

The hut is small enough that she knows she’ll be able to hear if he calls, and- well. If he’s still even partly awake, she’s not sure she wants him to hear whatever it is that she and Damien might say. She doesn’t expect this conversation to be any more pleasant than the one last night.

Damien sits by her table, tense and prim with his knees tucked beneath him on one of the cushions, and he glances up warily when she comes over to join him, dropping to settle on a cushion by his side.

“I take it you didn’t sleep at all,” she says mildly, lip curling into a wry sort of smile.

“Of course not.” He frowns, and the distinct pain in his eyes makes Rilla want very badly to reach out and cup his cheek, but she quells the urge. She’s not sure what angle he’s going to take yet, with his protests, and she doesn’t think he’ll welcome the contact, just now.

“He woke up at some point?” she prompts, and his lips press tight together.

“Intermittently,” he mutters, and he looks away again. “He- it did not stay conscious for any excessive length of time.”

“Why were you in there?”

“I couldn’t-” Damien cuts himself off, grimacing, one hand squeezing the table in front of him, and Rilla knows exactly what the answer will be before he opens his mouth to continue. “I could not stop thinking- every terrible thing it could have been doing in there, if I could not see- I could not keep my mind from racing with every catastrophe, every possible evil- I needed to have my eyes upon the beast.”

Rilla inhales, exhales. The idea of Damien glaring hatefully at Arum the whole night through is- unsettling , to say the least, but-

“Did that help, then?”

“Help,” he repeats in a mutter. “I did not lose myself to hysterics in fear of potential disaster, if that is what you mean.”

“Damien,” she says, her stomach doing an uncomfortable little turn at his tone. His frown deepens, just slightly, and he turns his face away. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“It seems to be as weak as you believe it to be,” he says, and he does not sound happy about it.

“He can barely lift his arms, Damien.”

“I said he seemed-” Damien cuts himself off again, and then he exhales a sigh. “Yes. At the moment it does not appear that he could attack you. At the moment.”

It’s not much of a concession, but it’s something . Rilla gives a very slight smile, just in time for Damien to glance her way again. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes are a little softer, she thinks.

“You… you look tired, Damien. You should lay down, just for a little bit-”

He shakes his head, sighing again. “I cannot.”

“Damien, he’s not going to-”

“I must return to the Citadel,” he interrupts, and her heart sinks as he rises to stand. “I am expected, today.”

“Oh,” she says, and she very much does not want to ask the question that hangs in the air between them. She doesn’t want to, but Rilla knows that leaving it hanging won’t help, so. She stands as well, biting her lip for a moment before she asks, “Are you- do you plan on-”

His jaw tightens. “I have yet to kill the creature,” he mutters, looking away. “I cannot say a word about it unless I wish to reveal my own failure and cowardice.”

“Oh, come on, Damien, it’s not-”

He turns towards her, his frown deepening further. “My love, I know my duty, and you know it just as well. This- this arrangement cannot stand. Surely you must understand that I cannot allow this. I will- I will concede some time, for you to reconcile that knowledge. I do not know why or how you have grown… attached to this thing, but I admire the compassion of your heart, even as I know I must act against it.”

“Damien,” Rilla tries again. “The only reason he’s hurt in the first place is because other monsters attacked him. You aren’t even a little curious why that would be true? And I’m not just going to- to let you hurt him after all this- after I’ve done so much to- Damien, he’s my patient-”

“I said I would give you time, my dearest love, and I shall. But you must come to terms with the reality of the situation. You must come to terms with the fact that he is a monster, and I am a knight. There is only one way this can possibly end, Rilla.”

He lifts his hand, reaching to cup her cheek, and Rilla scowls, smacking his palm away. “Don’t- I don’t need your concession, Damien. Don’t patronize me.”

“I-” he pauses, his expression somewhere between injured and mournful, and then he sighs. “I have duties that will keep me away tonight, but- but I will be back tomorrow, in the evening. When I can be.”

“Oh, thank the Saints,” she mutters, making no effort to disguise her irritation. “I’ll just muddle along and try not to get murdered until then.”

Damien presses his lips together, tight, but he manages not to respond to that. He takes another deep breath, instead, and then he fixes his eyes more deliberately on his fiance. “I love you, Rilla. I… you know that I worry as I do merely because of how deeply I care for you.”

Rilla sighs, some of the anger leaking away, and she steps close enough to the knight to touch his shoulder, her brow furrowed. “You know I love you too. Try- try not to overexert yourself today, Damien. It’s not healthy to push yourself on zero sleep.”

Damien purses his lips, but he doesn’t point out her hypocrisy. Instead, he gives his own weak smile and says, “Doctor’s orders?”

“Unless fiancée’s orders work better,” she says with a shrug, and she only hesitates for a heartbeat when she leans down to press a light kiss to his cheek. “I’ll- I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” Damien agrees, and Rilla can’t help but notice the way his eyes flick towards Arum’s door.

Arum slips in and out of consciousness most of the rest of the day. Rilla has enough time in his frequent catnaps (lizardnaps?) to manage her experiments, finally. A lot of them went unruly while she was so distracted managing him , and she has to toss out the entirety of her new bandage adhesive experiment- it worked a little too well, actually, and she feels like that particular mixture wouldn’t be good to apply to actual human skin. Or scales, for that matter. She puts the ones she can on hold, and the others she scraps. She can’t be sure how much of her time is going to be co-opted by monster babysitting, right now, and she knows how easily she gets distracted by her work. This patient is worth better than half her attention.

She switches to research, instead, pulling out bestiaries and pulling up the floorboard at the foot of her bed so she can cross reference with some of her fathers’ old books as well.

She notes a few possibilities for the creature that left the talon behind, though she doesn’t have much luck, finding anything like Arum in those books, either.

She does find him on the floor of the exam room in the mid-afternoon, though. She hears the thump when he falls, and when she comes to check on that she finds him halfway off the cot and halfway on the floor. His tail and one foot are still on the bed, mostly, tangled in the blankets, and she sighs deeply as he growls up at her with his snout against the wood of her floor.

“In what way would leaving right now be useful to you, Arum?” she asks dryly. “You planning on crawling your way back to your swamp from here? I’m pretty sure the knights will notice you even if you are on ground level the whole time.”

His growl deepens as he glares up at her, and he makes a somewhat sad and not very fruitful effort to pull himself back up. His leg is still tangled, and Rilla needs to pull the cloth away so he can slump all the way to the floor before she can actually start to help get him back up.

He takes the help with bad grace, of course. He refuses to look at her as she slips an arm around his back, careful to avoid the one large stab wound on his lower back as she helps to lift him back to sit on the edge of the bed, and he growls continuously throughout, though he doesn’t try to push her away.

“I was gonna wait a while for this to let you rest a bit longer, but now I’m gonna have to check you over again to make sure you didn’t just pull something open, Arum.”

“I could tear your throat out, you know,” he snarls, and he’s close enough that she can see the flecks of darker purple in his eyes as he glares at her. “Effortlessly. Each time you patronize me I grow closer to succumbing to that temptation.”

“I feel like I don’t actually have to tell you how much of an idiot move that would be,” Rilla says wryly, making no effort to pull back away from him. Instead, she starts to unwind his bandages to check on his injuries, her fingers moving with the automatic ease of practice, and Arum winces, hissing lightly. “You could,” she says. “Obviously you could. But we both know that you shouldn’t. Especially not now that we’ve dealt with the biggest issue in the way of your recovery.”

He huffs, turning his face away, and she can’t help the way the laugh bubbles out of her at the pout on his face.

“Don’t- don’t you dare mock me, human-”

“I’m not. Arum-”

He’s actively trying to pull away from her hands, now, and she lets him, lifting her palms in a placating gesture. Last thing she wants to do is accidentally hurt him worse because he’s struggling against her.

“Arum. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She shakes her head, smiling wryly. “The situation is more ridiculous than anything, honestly, but you just- you looked so irritated that you might survive and it just- hit me. Sorry.”

He makes a strange rattling noise and eyes her warily for a moment before he looks away with a huff. “Well. You are… you are correct that this entire debacle is ridiculous. I suppose you cannot be blamed,” he mutters. His frame relaxes, and he drops his hands. “Go on, then. If you must.”

It is a little strange, checking him so thoroughly like this while he’s actually conscious enough to scrutinize her in return. Usually he’s at least half-asleep when she does this, or at least too tired to pay much attention. With him frowning at her the whole time-

She starts talking her way through it after a few moments, explaining each step and describing his progress to him, and though he frowns at first, she can tell that he’s listening, and he almost seems to relax a bit. Not counting the moments he flinches when she needs to clean some of the more heinous injuries before rewrapping, at least.

“I… I do not understand you,” he mutters when she’s finished again, narrowing his eyes up at her as she checks his temperature with the back of a hand. “I don’t understand any of it. You, your little pet knight, none of it. It’s ridiculous.”

“That’s fair,” Rilla says with a shrug and a sigh. “Look, it doesn’t make a lot of sense from my perspective either, Arum. It’s not like I went for a walk the other day expecting to have a monster fall into my lap, you know? Sometimes- sometimes things just happen, and you react. I’m reacting.”

Arum ducks his head, glaring up at her as she puts the bandages away again, neatly arranging her materials back into their respective cabinets. “This is not the reaction that humans typically have to monsters , Amaryllis. Injured or no.”

Rilla tries not to let it show on her face, the little flash of delight she feels that he’s deigned to actually use her name. “Yeah, well. I tend to do things my own way.”

He doesn’t give her much trouble for the rest of the day. He must be exhausted by the whole collapsing-to-the-floor thing combined with just, like, the rest of it, because he’s right back to napping on and off until dark. She eats dinner early, since she was a bit too distracted for breakfast and she was busy with her experiment management around lunchtime, and the next time she hears Arum shifting around she brings something in for him, too.

Vegetable stew is a good sort of meal for where he’s at currently. He begrudgingly explained his dietary needs over the last day or so, mostly as she’s tried offering him various things and either had him turn his nose up in haughty disgust or snatch it impatiently out of her hands, by turns. His dental structure is odd enough that she had a difficult time hypothesizing what he would eat in the first place, but it turns out he’s an omnivore, with a preference for insects, fruits, and leafy greens. She could fry up some crickets, make a salad, that sort of thing, but his throat is still a little raw from the near-drowning, so she figures something more broth-based is probably better to stick to for the moment. He’s less grumpy when he’s full, too, which is a pleasant side effect.

(She’s amused as hell when she teases out of him that he doesn’t actually eat red meat- doesn’t , he says specifically, not can’t, which is interesting, but it ’s interesting less for the sake of her knowledge of his eating habits and more because it puts the lie to all his early grumbled I’ll bite your throat out, you’ll be delicious you foolish little creature sorts of threats from when he was barely awake.)

She goes to bed early, checks on her patient again in the middle of the night (he’s deep asleep at that point, thankfully), and when she wakes the next day it’s kind of a repeat. Arum’s making progress, now, sure, but it’s still slow. She thinks that he might heal more slowly than a human, but she can’t be sure if that’s inherent or just a consequence of him recovering from whatever toxin had been in his system. That’s first on the list for that day, anyway. Identifying that talon so she can figure out that much, at least.

The day runs sort of like clockwork, in that she spends any point during which she’s not busy thinking of the clock. Thinking of when Damien is coming back, of what he’s doing out there, how worried he must be (unnecessarily, but still), what kind of state he’s going to return in-

Even Arum notices that she’s distracted, which is annoying. He doesn’t say much besides a grumble that goes with an eye-roll, but still, she should be better than that.

Damien doesn’t come back until late, when she’s washing up the dishes after dinner. He knocks, which isn’t that unusual when she has the little plaque on her door turned to closed, and that’s been continual since she dragged Arum back here. She calls for him to come in, since she’s got her wrists in dishwater anyway, and there’s just enough of the meal left for him to have a bowl too, and she opens her mouth to offer as she glances over her shoulder, but-

“Saints, Damien, you look exhausted-”

He frowns, but he doesn’t answer. He crosses the room rather quickly, actually, and Rilla realizes after a half second that he’s marching straight for Arum’s door.

“Damien? Damien-”

He pulls the door open, stares inside, and then before Rilla can really start to panic he sighs and closes the door again.

“Still here,” he breathes. “It’s still here.”

“I…” Rilla shakes the water off her hands, eying Damien warily from across almost the entire space of her hut. “What did you think I was gonna do with him, exactly?”

“I had half-convinced myself I had dreamed the whole thing,” he mutters, and then he looks to her, and the shadows beneath his eyes are nearly purple. “Or- or perhaps I was hoping that was true.”

Rilla furrows her brow. “Well… sorry to disappoint, I guess. I saved you some food, if…”

He stares at the exam room door again, just for a moment, and then he comes over and sits by the table to eat.

It’s awkward, to say the least. Damien is never this quiet, and he keeps staring at Arum’s door as if he expects it to burst open or something worse , and Rilla can’t seem to draw him into conversation even a little. When he’s done eating he stands and washes the bowl without a word, and then he- hovers there, near the table, and just stares at the door for a while longer.

Rilla stands as well, after a moment, and she reaches gently to touch his shoulder.

“Damien… I think- I think you need to rest, okay?”

“I am perfectly-”

“You haven’t slept at all, have you?” she asks, and his eyes flick to the door again. She reaches her other hand out to cup his cheek, to make him meet her eyes. “Damien. Look, I’m- I’m tired too, okay? Just- come to bed with me. Lay down for- for just a couple hours. We can lock the bedroom door if that will make you feel better, but- you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. It’s not healthy, and it’s not going to help anyone. Please.”

You’re really worrying me, she doesn’t say, but she can tell he hears her anyway. He sags after a pause, then leans into her arms and nods. He lets her lead him to the bedroom. He lets her carefully undo his armor, lets her pull him into the bed and wrap her arms around him, lets her draw hands through his hair and hum some soft song until she drowses, until she falls entirely to sleep.

And then when Rilla is safe in slumber, when her worries have been appeased, Damien extricates himself from her embrace, retrieves his bow, and goes to resume his watch.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #scattered on my shore #i meant to post this last night but uh i fell ASLEEP asleep instead of just napping r i p #also not much happens this time eep #mostly i just. want to get to. the Good Shit i already wrote for later chapters..... O.O

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autisticjaymerrick · 5 years

Text

Actually posting tonight because it wasn’t as hard to edit as I thought it would be lol.

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If, sometimes, the coughing fits he took were less to do with The Operator and more to do with a different kind of sickness, well, Tim didn’t really think Jay needed to know that. Not yet and maybe not ever, considering their current situation and the fact that this would only complicate an already complicated set up.

But he had to admit it was getting harder to hide and harder to cope, what with his close proximity at nearly all times to the cause of the disease.

Or. He supposed that wasn’t fair. After all, it’s not like it was Jay’s fault that Tim was in love with him.

Except it was more than that, had to be if he’d gotten sick because of it. You don’t start sprouting flowers in your lungs unless it’s something serious and “in love with” didn’t feel strong enough to truly convey what Tim was going through.

It was the type of love that made it hard to breathe when he looked into Jay’s eyes, that made it impossible to focus if their shoulders were touching, that made him know that he’d do anything to make the other man happy. It was deep and all encompassing and, goddamn it, made even thinking about his feelings for more than 5 seconds result in the choking up of flowers.

(They were dandelions. Sometimes yellow, sometimes white and puffy. He guessed they were probably Jay’s favorite, and that made his heart swell uncomfortably)

And at first, sure, it was bearable. He’d realized his feelings for Jay slowly and then all at once, and then a week later woke up with a dandelion stuck in his throat. He’d had to run to the bathroom to gag it up and he knew what was happening only because someone in the hospital he’d been in had gotten it and he’d witnessed the flowers firsthand at lunch that day. She’d been transferred to a different inpatient facility the next day though, so he didn’t know how it progressed or how she’d ended up.

After the first incident it started happening a couple times a day and, if he was within Jay’s sight, he’d cough into a tissue, wrap the flower(s) inside, and toss them in the trash. It was unpleasant but not horrible.

But then it got worse.

Suddenly he was full on vomiting dandelions at least once a day, intermittent bouts of violent coughing coming every other hour at least. It was absolute hell and he didn’t know how to stop it or how to make it not seem suspicious or worrying to Jay, especially when it was getting harder to hide the flowers when the trash cans became full of tissues with yellow and white peeking out.

Jay had tried a few times to ask if he was alright, voice hinting at the volume of the question even though he, by his own admission, wasn’t great at conveying what he meant when he spoke. And Tim, every time, had given half hearted, exhausted, smiles and told him that yes, he was fine. It was just The Operator and maybe he needed to up his dosage of medication.

Jay always looked unconvinced but let it drop, reluctantly.

This song and dance lasted a couple weeks before the inevitable happened.

They had been talking, a normal conversation about memories that Tim was anxious about because they hadn’t really talked much since the flowers started sprouting. But it had happened organically and Jay looked happy to be interacting with him properly again and Tim couldn’t just bail.

But Jay did something he always did, a cute laugh and a glance to the side, nothing that should’ve been a big deal. That is, it wouldn’t have been if Tim wasn’t absolutely hopelessly in love with him, and if he didn’t find it adorable and painful and if at that moment his lungs hadn’t decided to betray him in the worst possible way.

But they did. Of course they did.

And before he could even process that it was happening he was coughing and choking, too sudden to cover his mouth, and white puffs were mingling with yellow dandelion heads on the ground by his feet.

Panicked, tears streaming down his face from the effort, he could barely hear Jay’s voice. He was asking if he was alright and asking, clearly confused and freaked out, about the flowers. Tim gestured wildly and even he didn’t know what the gestures meant.

By the time he’d finally expelled all the dandelions his throat was sore and raw and he felt lightheaded.

Clearing his throat one last time, and without glancing at Jay (if he did it would betray how scared he was), he laid back on his bed and rubbed at his eyes with his palms.

It was several moments before Jay, uncertain, spoke up again. His voice was soft and it hurt, god it hurt.

“What’s up with the flowers?”

Tim, despite himself, gave a bitter sort of laugh.

“It’s” he took a shaky breath, unsure if he even wanted to explain truthfully. But he might as well, right? Everything had been laid out, bare, and here he was. Vulnerable and exhausted.

“It’s a disease.” He said, unable to raise his voice. “It uh. It happens when you’re really in love with someone and it. Uh. It fills your lungs with flowers. The other person’s favorite flowers. Until your love is proven requited.” He dug harder at his eyes for a moment before dropping his hands onto his stomach. He felt sick, and not in the usual ways.

Jay was quiet for a while and Tim didn’t dare look up at him. He regretted ever saying anything, regretted not just leaving for a while to clear his head. How was he supposed to ask Jay to deal with this information all of a sudden? It was selfish and inconsiderate and it was naive of him to think he could just talk with him like everything was normal when he was like this and-

His thought cycle was interrupted.

“Who are you in love with?”

Tim winced at the question, forcefully choking down a sob that probably would’ve brought with it an onslaught of flowers. He looked adamantly at the yellowed ceiling.

“Ah. Well.” He started, voice unsteady. “That would be. You.”

He heard Jay give a small gasp and, as he was preparing an apology of some sort, finally looked over to him. He looked shocked, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Tim couldn’t read his expression.

“Hey listen I’m s-” Tim said at the same time that Jay started with “I love y-”

They both looked at each other for a moment, taken aback.

“What?” Tim asked, pretty sure he’d misheard.

“Oh uh. I was gonna say that I. Love you too, man.” Jay said, more anxious now that Tim was looking at him.

“You...what? You do?’ This was honestly such an unforeseen outcome that Tim hadn’t dared to hope for, that he was at a loss. He pushed himself up on the bed, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well...yea.” Jay said. “I’ve actually uh-” He paused to rifle around in his bag and pulled out….a ziplock bag with a flower in it? “I think I have the flower disease, too?”

It was Tim’s turn to be shocked.

“What?’ He said for the third time. “I mean. You do? For how long?” He leaned forward a bit, towards Jay, feeling a little hysterical.

Jay looked sheepish. “I coughed this up last night and didn’t know what was happening. I figured I should keep it until I figured out what was going on.”

“Wow. That’s. Damn.” Tim said eloquently, rubbing a hand down his face. “What the fuck.”

Jay gave a small laugh. “Right? I um. No matter how wild this whole thing is and how much it doesn’t seem like it can be real, I did think that it was maybe something to do with you. Because you said a few weeks ago that your favorite flower is an aster and that. Seems to be what this is”

Tim looked closer at the flower, a beautiful purple. It was indeed an aster.

It was quiet between them again for a few moments.

“We probably won’t cough up anymore.” Tim said finally. “If the feelings are requited the flowers are supposed to go away.”

“Guess I lucked out, only coughing for a day.” Jay quipped, putting the bag back in his bag. Tim didn’t ask why he was keeping it.

“Yea, I’m honestly gonna fight you about it, man.” Tim said, smiling sincerely for what felt like the first time in months. He felt like he could pass out at any moment, a crushing weight having been lifted off of him.

“Listen, it’s not my fault I’m a little slow on the uptake. I didn’t know I was actually in love with you until last night.”

Tim shook his head, exasperated. “Unbelievable” He said even though it was very believable.

They both laughed. Maybe this would work out okay after all, in the end. Maybe they’d make it out together, stronger than they were before

#post #my writing #marble hornets #jam #long post #hanahaki disease

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sweet-steddie · 5 years

Text

Pick-me-up (e.d. & g.d.)

Summary: @shawnsababe requested that I write about the twins comforting the reader after a bad dream. I definitely, 100% got carried away and I hope you love it lol.

A/N: Here’s imagine #4! I’ve been getting more requests for this blog and that makes my heart happy so please don’t hesitate to send those in! Feedback is also highly encouraged and please reblog if you thought this wasn’t half bad. Happy reading!

2.2k+

My heartbeat is erratic; my breathing is worse. I clutch at my chest in hopes of calming myself down, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much to help. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I blindly reach over to the bedside table and fumble for my water bottle, clumsily grasping it and twisting off the top before bringing it up to my chapped lips.

As the water cascades icily down my dry throat, I try to bring myself down from what’s certainly shaping up to be a panic attack. The dream - or nightmare is a better word for it, really - had felt uncomfortably real. Enough so that when I finally peel my eyes open, I can see my hands shaking in the moonlit room. I force out a breath of air.

“It wasn’t real. You’re fine; you’re in your bed and you’re safe. It wasn’t real,” I mutter aloud to myself, hearing the tremor in my own voice. I continue to verbally soothe myself as I reach for my phone in the tangle of my comforter. I locate it and quickly attempt to immerse myself in scrolling through my social media feeds. I do this for all of two minutes before I realize that it isn’t working. I compose a text; ‘Hi’ it says and I send it off to Ethan without a second thought. I have no doubt that he’s awake at this hour. I don’t even attempt to go back to scrolling through my phone as I stare at my screen, anxiously awaiting Ethan’s response.

Sure enough, it’s only a matter of seconds before a text bubble pops up in our conversation and only a few seconds more before I read ‘Hi :) I’m surprised you’re awake’. I’m about to respond to that when another text pops up. ‘Is everything ok?’ I sigh out into the semi-darkness. I should’ve known that he would pick up on something, even over text. He and Grayson seem to have knack for that. I figure that there’s no point in beating around the bush, so I decide to just call Ethan. The phone only rings once before he answers.

“Are you ok, sugar?” Ethan’s voice is as clear as if it were the middle of the afternoon, just as I suspected it would be.

“I had a bad dream, E. A really bad dream,” I trail off, closing my eyes against the onslaught of vivid imagery left over from the nightmare. “Everyone has bad dreams, I know. But this one was just really, really bad. I’m shaking, Ethan,” I tell him, fighting back tears at this point. I hear commotion on the other end of the phone.

“I’m coming over. Just stay in bed. And drink some water,” he pauses and I can hear him shuffling about, “or get something to eat. Or not. Whatever you need to do before I get there,” he says. Normally, I would feel horrible for making him go through all of this trouble at such a late hour; truthfully, I do still feel pretty lousy about the whole thing. But in my current state, I know that his company would be best for me right now.

“Okay,” I mumble, barely audible. “Don’t rush, Ethan. Drive safe, you’ll get here when you get here,” I advise.

“Don’t worry about me, sweet girl. You make sure you’re alright and I’ll be there in about 10 minutes, ok? I’ll be there before you know it,” he responds and I let out a breath that I must’ve been holding, relief washing over me at his promise, alone. Just the idea that I’ll be in his arms in a matter of minutes is enough to significantly curb my anxiety. We bid each other our goodbyes and I’m back to facing myself and my thoughts soon enough.

Without Ethan’s voice in my ear, I find that my mind is running freely, no longer bogged down by a distraction, and taking me through the wretched experience of my nightmare over and over again. I take all measures possible to calm my racing thoughts, taking another hearty swig from my water bottle, per Ethan’s request. During one of my deep breaths, I’m able to smell my breath and it’s not the most pleasant, so I busy myself with finding a piece of gum before Ethan arrives.

I take minuscule relief in locating a stick of gum on my bedside table and popping it into my mouth, wiping the crust out of my eyes as I stare down at my lap, willing myself to stay calm. My efforts at peace take up the 10 or so minutes that Ethan needed to get here and I hear his voice, muffled by the barrier of my front door, followed by the jingling of keys as he uses one of my spares to let himself in. “I’m coming in,” he announces moments before I hear the unlatching of the lock and the subsequent twisting of the doorknob as the door creaks open. I hear two sets of feet approaching my bedroom and my shoulders literally sag in relief when I realize that he must’ve brought Grayson with him.

Moments later, the silhouettes of two boys appear in my doorway and I can just make out the features of my beautiful twins as they tentatively approach my bed.

“Hi baby,” Grayson all but whispers as he crawls onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard next to me and making quick work of clicking on my bedside lamp before pulling me into a crushing hug. The familiar smell of his cologne and the familiar weight of his body put me at ease instantly. I wrap my arms around his torso, smushing my cheek into his chest as I cuddle in close. I feel the mattress dip on my other side as Ethan takes a seat too. I feel his hand splay over my lower back and rub up and down comfortingly for several long moments as Grayson continues to squeeze me tight.

I tap gently on Grayson’s back and he loosens his grip as we slowly pull apart. I give him a sad little smile and for the first time since he’s arrived, I’m able to take in his features. His eyes are soft and sleepy looking, framed by ridiculously long lashes. He must have been asleep not long before this. His pink lips are twisted into the beginning traces of a pout while he assesses my face as well. His stubble is faintly visible in the light of my lamp. I use a finger to trace his sharp jaw adoringly before I turn to Ethan. I feel Grayson release his hold on me, still keeping a hand on my upper thigh, gripping it in a silent show of comfort.

Ethan’s eyes are like sweet vats of honey as he stares patiently into my face. He cups my cheek with a giant hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over my cheekbone, eyes darting all over my face, but always finding their home and often staring directly into mine. “Are you feeling better?” he prompts quietly, like we’re the only two people in the room. Like we’re the only two people in the world. I nod my head ‘yes’ and he arches one of those wild, pretty brows at me, waiting on verbal confirmation. I involuntarily lick my lips, breaking his penetrating gaze, but he only ducks his head to follow my line of vision, forcing me to keep looking at him.

“Yeah,” I answer, blinking once before allowing him to stare into my soul, it feels like. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, but I’m definitely,” I pause as I think up the right term before settling on, “better.” Ethan nods, snaking the hand that’s cupping my cheek down my face and neck before he grips my shoulder and pulls me forward into his embrace. I use one hand to wrap myself up in him and the other to play with the paper clip on the end of his necklace. It’s something I do out of habit, twirl Ethan’s necklace gently between my fingers or swing the angel wing dangling from Grayson’s ear back and forth at my leisure. Neither of them seem to mind.

Ethan grips onto me like I might slide through his fingers otherwise. “What can we do to make it better?” he mumbles, lips resting dangerously close to my ear. I feel Grayson’s fingers tighten momentarily on my thigh as both boys await my answer.

“This. You can keep holding onto me just like this and never let go,” I reply without giving it a second thought.

“That’s a given. We aren’t moving until you say so,” Grayson assures me and I faintly smile to myself as I think about all that these boys do for me. I couldn’t put my love for them into words if I tried. I reach blindly out beside me and am pleased when Grayson catches my hand in his his big paw and loops our fingers. He pulls my hand up to his plush lips and leaves a sweet kiss on the skin there. It sends a pleasant shiver up my spine, being loved on like this. My discomfort from the dream is slipping away to the far corners of my mind as I focus on the situation at hand. The sheer presence of Grayson and Ethan is soothing me to no end and bringing me back to my home base. They are my home base.

The three of us stay in this position for several minutes; Ethan, hugging me tightly and humming wordless melodies softly into my ear while Grayson plants intermittent kisses on my hand, rubbing his thumb over it when it’s not up to his mouth. At one point, Grayson uses his free hand to power on the speaker on my bedside table and connect the Bluetooth on his phone so that he can play music quietly throughout the room. We somehow end up in the position of me with my head resting on Ethan’s shoulder and his cheek resting atop my head, arm thrown around my shoulder. Grayson’s hand takes up camp on my thigh again and my hands are all over the place, running through Ethan’s hair, tracing the tattoos visible on Grayson’s thighs peeking from beneath his sleeping shorts, playing with Ethan’s and Grayson’s fingers simultaneously.

The conversation has long since begun to flow between us and it’s done wonders to put me at ease, to the point that the uneasiness I felt when I had shot up earlier in the night is a thing of the past. Grayson’s in the middle of reading us something from his phone when I raise my head from Ethan’s shoulder, causing him to raise his head as well. I look up at him to find him already staring down at me and Grayson’s voice becomes background noise for a moment as Ethan slowly leans in, giving me the chance to pull away. I stay put as the gap is closed between us and his pillowy lips are smushed up softly against mine. The kiss is sweet and gentle and perfect.

When we pull apart, it’s decidedly silent and I stare adoringly at Ethan for a moment before turning to Grayson with a dopey smile on my face. His lips upturn in a smirk that shows off a dimple that mirrors his brother’s. “It’s one of those nights, huh?” he asks and I nod, momentarily at a loss for words. I hear Ethan chuckle beside me as he runs his hand over my back gently. “Then what’re we waiting for?” Grayson asks, moving some of my hair out of my face before leaning in just like Ethan had minutes ago.

Grayson’s a great kisser, not unlike his brother. Ethan’s hand is still running over my back as Grayson deepens the kiss a bit, adding some tongue into the mix for some long, glorious moments. When we separate, I bite my lip to keep from whimpering or doing anything else equally embarrassing. Grayson’s smirking once again, aware of the effect he’s had on me.

“Oh, you can fuck right off,” I admonish, causing Grayson to throw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. I turn to face a smiling Ethan, raising my eyebrows before scolding him as well. “You can, too. You’re both way too smug,” I point out, causing him to show his teeth as he laughs in triumph, putting his hands up in mock-surrender.

“Hey, we were just helping you feel better. We were distracting you from,” he pauses, pretending to think before, “why were we here again?” he acts as if he’s too blissed out to remember and I shake my head at him, smiling against my better judgement as Grayson laughs thunderously on my other side. When the two oafs on either side of me finally calm down, the three of us are considerably more awake than we’ve been all night.

“Since we’re clearly not going to sleep anytime soon,” I begin, feeling around for my remote in the covers, “I’ll choose something to watch.” I find the remote and power on the flat screen facing my bed, queuing up Netflix right away.

“I’ll order food,” Ethan contributes and Grayson and I murmur our assent as I begin flicking through the generous selection on TV before me. It seems that Netflix and chill is scheduled to be in full effect tonight.

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Seventy-One: ID Bracelet ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: The Future is Wild ] [ AO3 Link ]

How odd, to wake for the first time with an empty mind.

Eyes of pale lavender slowly open, fringes of lashes fluttering. Above her is a plane of white - perfectly arranged tiles along a ceiling, broken up intermittently with soft, colorless lights. Her gaze flickers over the sight before she dares to turn her head. With it, the fringe of her hair shifts over her brow. To her right, another marless wall of white. But to the left…

A huge sheet of glass. Peerless. Unscathed. Without a scratch. Beyond it, an empty hallway of the same unfeeling white. Cold. Hard. Lifeless.

For a time, she lets her head rest flat again, considering the ceiling. In her mind are no words - no inner narrative. Just vague inclinations - questions without form, lacking the knowledge to mold them. Where is she? What is she? Why is she?

Then instinct gives her a hint.

Move.

Limbs shift subtly, realized. She has a body? It can move? Her left arm lifts, wobbles, turns and bends. She watches it curiously, flexes fingers, feels the sensation of tightening muscles. Takes everything in with those pale eyes.

“You’re awake.”

The words mean nothing to her, but sound is a new dimension. Back to the glass she looks. There stands...something. It wasn’t there before. It...moves? Is it...her? Like her? Not like her? In her effort to see it more clearly, her torso turns - more body to discover. Like a newborn fawn she struggles to wrangle her fleshy vessel to her whims. As she turns atop the strange cot upon which she’s lying, something moves against her skin. Her hair, her garment, and...a bracelet. She has words for none of them, understanding for none of them. Hands sloppily touch and pull at all she is, all she has. There’s...sensation. She feels it! The gown that hangs to her knees is smooth...but not as smooth as her skin. And the thing that dangles over her wrist...it shines. Silver, metal, save for a small screen that displays symbols, meaningless to her.

To anyone else, it simply reads: B1.

As she watches, the symbols...move! Float across the little screen, changing and flowing. Vitals display, physical information. Current height, weight, body mass index, last sleep cycle, last meal, last waste deposit. Anything and everything that is her.

All the while, outside the glass, the her-is-not-her watches. Patiently. His eyes are not like hers. Dark. Guarded. Not so curious and open about the new world around them.

His eyes have seen much. More than hers. Great things. Terrible things.

He wonders which she will be.

Eventually, she loses interest in the bracelet, and her gown. Combing fingers through her hair, she keeps up the act subconsciously as she again takes in her little room. It’s only ten paces in any direction. Her cot is the only anomaly: a fluid shape up out of the floor, like a stand for a trophy. Her legs dangle off the edge, feet bare over the cool tiles.

Then her eyes return to him.

His garment is different. A coat, white; trousers, black; shirt, red; tie, black. And he has shoes - she can’t see his feet. Nor can she tell what is garment, what is him. What is him?

“Can you hear me?”

Her head tilts.

He knows she doesn’t yet comprehend language, but...all in due time. At least, so far, she seems functional. Motor skills are developing well after so long in suspended animation as she grew. They’ll have to test her full capabilities later. Make sure nothing is deficient or malformed after her accelerated growth...but from a glance, she appears whole. Normal.

Of course...he knows better than to expect perfect results from the prototype. There’s a reason there’s a number beside her project’s initial. There will be more. There will always be more. Tweaks. Improvements. Fixes for bugs and imperfections.

For now, he simply observes.

She stares at him, unblinking. Unnerving how her gaze almost seems to go right through him, but...well, he supposes that’s largely the point. The government isn’t paying his employer millions just to make humans.

They have to be special.

Then, to his surprise, she attempts to stand. Attempts being the key word, as her untested legs quickly give out under the new strain of gravity. He doesn’t react, watching to see what she’ll do. Limbs a mess and back propped against her cot, there’s a curt huff of frustrated breath.

...that was almost cute.

Arms reach for a hold, twisting her torso to reach for the edge. She manages to rise to her knees, still clinging to the cot and observing herself critically. Seems she’s not a fan of her beginning fragility. Then a leg lifts, planting her foot with her knee at a right angle. Good. Push, strain, wobble like a Spring calf. Plant other foot. Hold on to support. Carefully - oh so carefully - let go.

Continue to sway, but...remain upright. Arms stretch out like an acrobat’s pole on a tightrope, lifting and lowering to adjust her balance.

...huh. Impressive.

Tiny shuffling steps turn her back toward the glass. One foot slides, rather than lifts, across the floor, like a child learning to ski. Shift weight, bring forth other foot. Slow, unsteady progress.

And he just...watches. Hands in his pockets. Expression carefully neutral.

After a long minute of travel...she makes it. Braces palms against the glass, which fogs ever so slightly in the chilled laboratory air near her body heat. Watching the phenomenon, her gaze then lifts to his face. Studies it, eyes open and clear, unphased by things like social decorum. Her mind thirsts for knowledge of this world it suddenly finds itself in, and he is the first thing of note in her path.

The first thing like her.

There’s still an eerie feeling as she watches him. He knows what those eyes have been engineered to do: to see through anything, when fed the right biochemical signal. The perfect spy, with both x-ray and binocular vision.

Exactly what they’re being paid to build.

Orochimaru has always sought to push the boundaries of fact and fiction when it comes to human biology. Limits pushed just to see what pushing them does. What happens when those boundaries are broken. The unnatural, perverse things Sasuke has seen while working under the man have been numerous...but this project, at least, has to retain a sense of normalcy.

If a being is to blend into society, it can’t stand out. And while her gaze is troubling, they can always adjust it. She’ll have to prove she can go unseen...while seeing everything.

Lost in his thoughts, Sasuke moves only as she does. Her right hand, attached to her ID bracelet, lifts to press more level to his face, as though longing to touch it. Still the intense stare, head tilting to better her angle of observation.

His own eyes flicker over her face, eventually managing to lock.

She has yet to blink.

Then, subtly...he sees it. Veins along her temples swell, altered brain flipping a switch.

...she’s looking through him. Literally this time.

He just...stands in shock. How did she…? She can’t know how to…?

Eventually, her eyes move aside, slowly scanning the building beyond him. Peeking into crevices, seeing into rooms, peering around corners. As he watches, he can just barely see the shifts in her irises: like a camera lens adjusting focus as she narrows and widens her field of view.

...amazing…

After a sweep, she brings her gaze back to him, veins receding as she lets the phenomenon cease.

Considering her silently, Sasuke then decides to abandon his better judgment. Just for a moment.

Just to see what she’ll do.

Withdrawing a hand from a pocket, he lifts it, slowly. As expected, her eyes snap to the movement. Letting her watch, he then adjusts to let his palm rest on the other side of the six inch thick reinforced glass from hers.

It’s so dainty when compared to his own.

Something...shifts in her expression. Almost like a tinge of sadness. Slowly, her fingers curl to a fist, eyes dropping and suddenly looking miles away.

What he’d give to know what she’s thinking.

Feeling.

Then, the limb slips from the glass completely. She turns to walk away.

“Wait.”

The sound draws her gaze.

The word comes unexpectedly. Unintendedly. Suddenly his throat is dry, watching as she watches him.

His own visual cue is far less subtle than hers. The black iris spins, shifts...turns red. With it, the lavender specter that ghosts over her shell flickers into vision. Echoes of her subtle movements make her seem to shift in slow motion, like afterimages he can watch and predict far faster than any untinkered human.

Her face goes slack with recognition.

He...he is like her…!

Stepping back to him, she palms at the glass, seeming to seek a way through it. But he stoppers her with a gesture. His eyes go dark. He shakes his head.

...she doesn’t understand.

Heaving a sigh, he retreats his hand, shoving it back into his pocket and walking down the hall, the thumps of her palms unheard.

.oOo.

So this is...really random xD I'm actually not a big fan of sci fi as a genre - I've always been more of a fantasy kinda person. So tbh I dunno how...well I did this? Since I don't have much to compare it to, lol Back when I first did this prompt list with original characters, I did something very similar to this, but...it's neat to see how my perceptions have changed, and just overall writing quality. I like this a lot better than that first attempt, but...I guess that's the point! ANYWAY So, we have Oro in a lab making fancy modified hoomans! And Hinata, Byakugan 1, has just been woken from stasis for the first time! A bit odd to suddenly exist at like twenty years old. And of course, Sasuke - one of Oro's top assistants - goes to check on her. But it seems even Oro's employees have their quirks :3c Ngl, I might do more with this in the future. We'll see. I'm not...overly comfortable with writing sci fi since I don't really "know" it very well, but...maybe I'll make an exception here, lol Buuut for now, I need sleep. I was up all night sick last night and...hoping it doesn't happen again ^^; All that aside though, thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #the future is wild [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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the-far-bright-center · 6 years

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Update :)

Hey everyone, it’s been a while. You may have noticed that lately there’s been a bit of a decrease in daily posts here, and that I haven’t been as consistent with tagging, etc. For the past three months, I’ve been in the middle of an unexpected and extremely stressful house move. During this time, I’ve had very unreliable and inconsistent internet access, so I decided to run this blog on a queue, and add to it with intermittent reblogs whenever I could get the chance. To say it’s been frustrating is an understatement, and I sincerely apologize to those of you who have messaged me or sent me asks during this time – I’ve been so exhausted, it’s been impossible to keep up with everything.

Thankfully, the house move is now winding down (we’re now finally in the new house, but still unpacking, settling in, etc.), so I should at least be able to resume curating this blog with more of my usual attentiveness. I’d like to say that everything will now go back to normal, but….I’m honestly not quite sure what ‘normal’ is anymore. Over the last few months, I have been thinking long and hard about my continued involvement in SW fandom, and have come to some difficult, but, imo, necessary, conclusions.

Don’t worry, I am not leaving tumblr, nor am I going to stop posting on this blog. It means too much to me to do that. However, I feel I must make it clear that, from here on out, I can no longer have anything to do with any current or forthcoming ‘New Canon’ material, whether it be films, tv series (animated or otherwise), novels, comics….just…none of it.

Most of you know me well enough by now that I don’t think I even need to explain why, but I will do so, just in case....

I had always intended to completely divorce myself from the Disney stuff once Star Wars: Rebels had finished airing, but since, for a variety of reasons, it turned out that I was never able to finish watching that show through to its conclusion, this ended up happening far sooner than I’d expected. (I won’t even get into my thoughts on the renewed Clone Wars season – the less I say about it, or even acknowledge its existence, the better…for the state of my mental and emotional health, at the very least.)

My reasons for wanting—no, needing— to stay as far away as possible from Disney’s version of Star Wars from now on are many and varied [see here, here, here, and here], but ultimately it comes down to several inter-related issues, the most key being that ever since TFA, I have not been able to trust Disney with Star Wars, and will never be able to fully trust them with it ever again. It does not matter how much ‘good’ material they put out to balance out the bad, it’s too late…the damage is done. And since the version of SW as put forth in the sequels is probably the worst, most out-of-character, inaccurate, and disrespectful interpretation of my beloved story that I could possibly imagine, I therefore cannot help but view the rest of Disney’s output (however innocuous, and regardless of who writes/directs/creates it) with extreme skepticism, and an anxiety bordering on panic.

As I’ve gone over many times before, the entire premise of the so-called ‘sequels’ is anathema to pretty much all of my long-held beliefs and understanding of the saga as a whole…and to what I had, for decades, assumed that other fans implicitly understood and valued as well. And so, the fact that so many fans have so readily embraced those movies and swallowed down Disney’s bizarro version of the SW saga without hesitation or question, has continued to leave me feeling more and more heart-broken and ostracized. Not only from an entire fandom, but also from popular culture in general. It’s made me realize that, for far too many people, ‘Star Wars’ is indeed just a blockbuster series of movies, and is not the mythical two-part saga that it is to me. For far too many people, it is now, at worst, an endless, profit-churning franchise…at best, another version of an expanded universe, albeit one that has been corporately ‘canonized’.

The fact that I can no longer relate to most other SW fans is beyond depressing for me. Something I used to take for granted – the universal appeal and relatability of Star Wars as a modern myth—no longer exists. I can’t even talk about my beloved Star Wars with people in RL anymore, lest someone let slip a spoiler that will break my heart all over again. It is no wonder that the lead-up to every subsequent release since then (even the ones I have been actively ignoring, which is most of them) has left me a shaking, nervous wreck….and given the often fragile state of my mental health in general, this has been downright dangerous for me at times. Even just stumbling across or hearing about SW related news and announcement can leave me distressed and despondent for days on end. It takes a herculean effort for me to then reclaim a positive headspace and find my ‘happy place’ again after something like this. So I blacklist as much as I can, but it doesn’t always work, because… in order to keep this blog even remotely active, I have to peruse other SW blogs for content. And, given my need to AVOID spoilers like the plague, I struggle to do this at the best of times. Disney has so oversaturated the market with their output that sometimes it seems like every damn day there is yet another announcement of some new release. It’s just too much, and the fact that there is no end in sight is demoralizing as hell. (I dream of creating a time machine and going back to before all of this shit, just to make it stAHP.) Ultimately, all of this combines together to leave me feeling completely alienated, stressed out, and just plain unhappy.

But no more, I say. This is FANDOM….it’s supposed to be FUN. It’s supposed to make me happy. Life is already horrifically depressing and stressful as it is. And what is more… this blog in particular is supposed to be my safe space. That’s what I created it to be, in the first place.

In short, the conclusion I’ve reached is this: in order to continue enjoying the REAL my preferred version of SW in the way that I need to engage with it, I MUST completely remove myself from new Disney content. If I do not, I will lose the ability to enjoy any of it at all.

So, my friends, while I’m not going anywhere (not just yet anyway), I do need to ask you all to please continue being patient and understanding with me about these above-mentioned issues. If you want to engage in meta discussions with me, for instance, please be aware that I will only talk about interpretations of ‘Star Wars’ as Lucas’ saga (and anything that is supplementary or supportive of that), and will not engage with anything that tries to insinuate that the sequels nonsense is even remotely part of the same story. Likewise, I beg you all to please refrain from commenting on my posts or messaging me about anything to do with upcoming releases, news, or any Disney Star Wars stuff from this point on. Again, I’m happy to discuss past content…to an extent (if you’re not sure what, please feel free to message me for clarification). But any new Disney content I just….don’t want to hear about. At all. Even if you THINK I will like it or be ok with it. The fact is… I won’t. Because Star Wars is finished. It’s a completed story. ‘IT IS ALREADY OVER. NOTHING CAN BE DONE TO CHANGE IT.’ I neither want nor need any more from it – whether as a story OR a ‘franchise’ – than what already exists. And I become stressed and anxious the moment anyone (purposefully or inadvertently) suggests that I ought to be watching/reading/seeing/hearing about what I personally feel is just a fake version of the REAL THING that I hold dear.

Finally, I just want to clarify that, because of all of this, it’s unlikely that I will be able to keep this blog up-to-date with all the ‘latest’ content (not that I ever have done so, lol). I will, however, continue to keep it to the standards I have set so far. As always, the subject matter will be mostly be Prequels Trilogy, along with the (original!!) Clone Wars animated series (aka, seasons 1-5), Rebels (but only up through season 4a), Rogue One, and, of course, the Original Trilogy. Some supplementary material from those eras may creep in, along with occasional EU content. I just I thought I’d better make it clear that there won’t be any further ‘new canon’ on this blog…. at least, not unless some kind of unforeseen miracle happens and Disney decides to de-canonize their shitty sequel trilogy and magically make me trust them again! (ha ha I can dream)

Because it’s so difficult for me to find new content on tumblr without running into stuff I do not want to see, I have for a while now had the goal of creating my own content for those times when I can’t find anything new. Frustratingly, due to the house move, I’ve been way too busy to even contemplate that in recent times, but I do have some still-unfinished and in-progress projects that I’d like to eventually share here. In addition to this blog, I also ‘curate’ my own RL Star Wars collection, so once I get a new safe place to set it up, expect regular photoshoots of my action figures and other collectibles as well. :)

Most of all, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has stuck with this blog for so long. Thank you for respecting my various quirks, neuroses, and eccentricities, and for helping to keep this blog a safe space.

And to any new followers out there…. a belated, but very warm, welcome! :)

#personal #psa to my followers #about this blog #about me #pro-Lucas' saga #anti-sequels #anti-disney #this is not about anything in particular #nor is it directed at anyone specifically #it's just something i felt the need to express #thanks everyone for understanding #:)

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