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rookiesbookies · 5 months

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Hi i love the empress and male!concubines idea with the COD boys, I def think that it'll be interesting to see more hcs for this idea/au?

Alright my little anon. Truthfully I should have given more details in the og post (it also started as a rant about how I couldn’t handle a poly relationship because of my anxiety (I also saw a post about a girl who had 4 partners and didn’t get any attention and it made me sad so that's also way).) I have been stewing on this idea though so here’s some hc. Might do more if people are still interested in it or want more, I do love talking about my AUs (like this one and the Greek god one, so let me know if you want me to go more bc stuff like this rattles around my brain)

Also apparently there is a term for a male concubine and they’re called concubinatus or a concubinus. Honestly I took Latin and the fact I didn’t expect this lowkey brings me pain.

General HC?

The first empress in a long time. And the first empress to like her concubinuses (hope that's right) more than the idea of marrying for an emperor. So the council decided to bring you only the best warriors to keep. They of course still must serve occasionally but they have been elevated in status to there is lower risk anything will happen. Mostly kept as tacticians or kept to train the new boys joining the country’s military.

Konig and Krueger were taken as trophies of war for the Empress. They were two of the largest, smartest, and strongest men from the battlefield.

When the two were adjusting, it was difficult. The empress was gracious with them, mentioning how she wouldn’t dare make them do anything, apologizing for the war and the loss. Truthfully trying to get them comfortable, and the two were honestly shocked but I’ll get into that more in their sections.

Keegan was sent as a gift by a neighboring nation looking for peace and protection. He had a good time adjusting, sometimes making comments about how this treatment is too good for nasty military dogs like all of them but I’ll touch on that more later.

Price

Price was probably the first concubinus. He had been a strong warrior and was deemed by the council to be a good fit for what they were hoping for. He also, however, did not intend to retire from his position so they had to find an alternate reason to stop him from getting in trouble.

For him it was awkward. His empress was a bit younger than him, however he did crave to be a father. While the empress didn’t intend to fall pregnant yet, he would be on his best behavior when the opportunity came.

The chance to be the father of the next royal was something he couldn’t miss.

Soap

Both him and Gaz were best in their class, breaking records, so it only made sense it seems to send them to the empress once they got their prime years out of them.

He was probably the last concubinus to come in before the gift and the trophies of war. He has the more vicious puppy eyes. He waits for you like a dog every time you leave and enter. Always talks about how much more comfortable your bed is and how nice it is to lay with you. Definitely sweet talks you even though he’s already a concubinus.

Will literally do anything you say and it’s partially because he thinks he will get sent back to the military full time if he doesn’t.

Ghost

Definitely does checks on all the palace guards to make sure they’re up to spec. If even one slacks he uses his power to make them run.

This is all because of how gracious the empress has been with him. When he had a fit of ptsd (i'm thinking anxiety attack or something) she invited him into her room and away from the others so he didn’t feel embarrassed and comforted him as best she could before making him some tea. With an empire that stretches across Europe he was impressed she had the time to stop and care about a random concubinus.

Definitely was surprised he told you as much as he did and how you listened and comforted him. Telling him you’d never make him do anything he wasn’t comfortable with was something he appreciated.

Gaz

See the first paragraph of Soap’s bc Im not copying it again.

Since I feel like Gaz is the older of the two (he seems to have a maturity I dont see as much in Soap idk?) He was sent to her first of the two for his ‘semi-retirement’. Now they just need them to occasionally train incoming recruits.

He definitely enjoyed adjusting to the cushy life of the castle. He liked being able to keep his weapons since he did double as a personal guard for the empress. But he likes that he and the other concubinus get a hot tub more, definitely likes all the fancy clothes.

His job is the have sex with his sexy empress, what’s not to love?

Konig

Truthfully, when he was being cocky toward the other concubinus and you pulled him away into a separate room to tell him you knew he was compensating for his anxiety, he was more than shocked. He was stunned into silence.

So when you reached your hands under his hood and rubbed his cheeks, telling him it was ok and he didn’t need to act out, he melted. He had never truly been shown such softness, so to be shown it by the empress of the enemy? He was so conflicted. With a pat on his chest you told him he could take on his position fully when he was more comfortable and that you were concerned for him and there if he needed to talk. He was still quiet.

Krueger

Was not interested. No matter how many compliments you gave him or gifts you sent, he wouldn’t budge. He was grumpy and hostile. So much so he made the other concubinus nervous especially for you.

It wasn’t until you pulled him into your room that night that he relaxed quite a bit under your soft hands and apologies. Massaging his tired muscles, and lulling him into a sense of security. Now he understood how Konig folded so easily.

He offered to return the favor but you told him not until he was more comfortable and made him promise to play nice. He agreed but only to be a bit nicer.

Keegan

He honestly believes this treatment is too good for all of them. They were dogs of war, animals trained to kill, and now they’re dressed in fancy clothes? With an empress who dotes on them when they should be doting on her? Truthfully he baffles him. He isn’t ungrateful, he just didn’t expect to become a concubinus when sent here. He expected a joint military operation or to be a representative. He hit it off quickly with the group from the empire’s military.

The two from the war keep to themselves and the shorter one threatened to bite him.

Often feels the most out of place because he is the only one from his area, but he doesn’t complain. He gets nice gifts and is invited into your room pretty often, so he appreciates every moment. He wonders if it would be proper or allowed for him to get you gifts?

I was surprising more eager to write this ask than I thought. Let me know if yall want me to do formal parts to this? Maybe an actual fic for this au?

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

#cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #konig x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ #sebastian krueger x reader #cod krueger #simon riley #simon riley x you

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charmikarma · 6 months

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Breath as Influence and John in the Epilogues

Breath is probably one of the better understood aspects. “What is it?” someone asks – and the whole fandom is like, “Oh, Breath is about freedom and wind and detachment.” Which I don't disagree with. But I think most people miss a key piece of it – Breath as influence.

I'm no seasoned classpector, but I am a Mage of Breath, so I feel like I have a deep and personal understanding of Breath, particularly because of how it has manifested in my life. Yeah, I know, claiming I'm an authority on the subject because of my self-imposed alignment within a fake typology system makes me sound like an asshole. But I'll have to ask you to trust me, because if I start talking about my own experiences, I'll sound like even more of an asshole.

Anyway, let's kick this off with the official description of Breath, per the Extended Zodiac:

In summary: the Breath-bound are flexible, driven, detached, and maybe a little self-centered. Also, other people tend to get caught up in their personal development, which tends to make them good leaders. But the most important thing here for the point I'm making is this:

others ... feel inspired by them.

This word, inspired, has been rolling around in my brain for the past few weeks, because of its connection to Breath. Hey, did you know that “inspire” comes from Latin spirare, meaning "breathe"? And if we include the Latin prefix in-, it becomes "breathe into."

The Breath-bound have an ability to breathe into, or inspire others. They're not aware of it – after all, they are just living their lives for themselves. But wherever they go, they are inspiring people. Or, more accurately, they are influencing people. Actually, the influence of Breath goes beyond just people. I could even get meta with it (and I will. I apologize in advance). But let's start small for now.

Tavros Nitram

So, Tavros. Page of Breath. Pretty much all of Tavros's contributions to Homestuck as a story happen as a result of someone doing something to him. Vriska paralyzes him, which kickstarts the whole FLARP cycle of revenge arc. And again when the truce is broken in Act 5 Act 2, it is because Vriska kills Tavros. If this doesn't sound like influence to you, you're right. Tavros has very little influence. He's a Page, after all, and if there's one thing I know about Pages, it's that they're weak as shit until they reach their "true potential," which is pretty much always something stupidly overpowered. Y'know, like Jake overpowering Jade's first guardian powers. That was pretty batshit, I'd say.

But Tavros's contributions don't end there. He actually does reach his true Page-y potential right at the very end of Homestuck, when he gathers an army of ghosts – honestly, probably every single ghost in the furthest ring – by just talking to them. Was this something of a punchline to a very long joke? Probably. But it is also a pretty good example of the kinds of things Breath players typically do.

On a meta level, though, this argument kind of falls apart, because... As far as I can tell, the army of ghosts doesn't really do anything. Nothing important, anyway. Lord English's defeat is pretty much entirely at the hands of John, Dave, Davepetasprite^2, and alt!Calliope in the body of Jade, as described in the Epilogues. The ghost army just isn't relevant, in the end.

But you know what is relevant? Vriska.

Half the people reading this just groaned, I can feel it. Why are we talking about Vriska, a Light player, on a post about Breath?? I hear your question and I raise you this: Why the fuck is Vriska so obsessed with Breath players???? Personally, I think it's because she has an innate sense for their passive ability to decide what's relevant.

But before we get into Vriska, let's talk about John.

John Egbert

John, Heir of Breath. The protagonist of the story. In the context of my thesis of "Breath as influence," isn't it interesting that the protagonist is a hero of Breath? And even beyond that, he's an Heir, a class typically interpreted as "becoming" their Aspect, or "inheriting" it. If you find my argument compelling, you could even say John is the influence that drives the story. Which is exactly what a protagonist does - after all, what is a story without a protagonist?

This question is actually addressed in Homestuck, kind of. At some point in Act 4, Terezi manipulates John into visiting his denizen early, which gets him killed. The story is left without its protagonist, and progress grinds to a screeching halt. Jade doesn't enter the Medium and presumably dies. The reckoning never happens. Dave and Rose are trapped in a doomed timeline. They lose contact with the trolls. For what is a world without the breeze, without air, but a place of complete standstill? The story needs John to continue. Okay, it needs Rose and Dave and Jade just as much. But it's interesting that the story makes a point of John's death being the turning point that makes this particular timeline doomed.

Okay, sorry for the wait. It’s Vriska time. Vriska's driving motivation is to be relevant. She does everything in her power to steal the spotlight, which may or may not be related to the fact that she's a Thief of Light. Again, I'm not an experienced classpecter. I only really have a surface level understanding of Light. But I'm getting off topic here.

In Act 5 Act 2, Vriska starts talking to John. Why? Well, partially because she wants to compete with Terezi, who is talking to Dave. But there's also the fact that she wants to be the force responsible for Bec Noir. And also for John reaching god tier. And everything relevant really??? She's really fucking good at being relevant, I'll give her that. Or at least presenting the illusion of relevance, but that's a big topic that I think I should save for another day. Another essay, maybe. The point here is, John has a tremendous amount of influence over Things That Happen just by existing, and Vriska knows it. Maybe she torments Tavros because she senses the same sort of potential in him, but that's probably a stretch.

In any case, this is baby shit. There's better evidence than this. Let’s talk retcon powers.

You could argue that the retcon powers are separate from John's abilities related to his classpect, and on some level you'd be right. But in a game that "knows" everything that is going to happen, I have to question if extraneous powers like this are taken into consideration when Sburb "decides" what classpect it gives a player. I feel similarly about Jade's First Guardian powers. Teleportation is a pretty space-y power, in my opinion. And definitely one that... "breaks rules," I guess. Among all the other things First Guardians get to do. Once again, I'm no classpector. But Jade getting access to First Guardian powers upon reaching God Tier strikes me as very Witch of Space-y. I feel similarly about John's retcon powers - they strike me as very Heir of Breath-y.

And not just because I view Breath as influence, though that is definitely the most obvious way the retcon powers could be interpreted as Breath-y. Even on a surface level, they're pretty Breath-y. When John first talks to Roxy, he gives a whole spiel about everything he's been to up until this point, most of which is obscured by "blah blah blah." But little phrases come through occasionally, and when he starts talking about his brand new retcon powers, he uses the phrase "UNSTUCK FROM CANON." Which sounds a lot to me like "freedom from the narrative." But maybe more telling is the fact that John's quest as an Heir of Breath requires that he use his retcon powers. Getting rid of the oil, freeing the fireflies - his quest as established at the very beginning was always intended (in universe at least; I can't speak for Hussie's intentions) to be solved by his retcon powers.

So retcon powers are at the very least Breath-adjacent. What’s that got to do with Breath as influence? I’m sure you see where I’m going with this. Retcon powers are basically the ability to do whatever the fuck you want to any point of any timeline. I’d call this influence but I’d sound silly, actually. It goes way beyond influence. It’s way less subtle. I guess you could call direct intervention like this influence at its most powerful. Well, almost. There’s one step above this that John never really taps into. Which brings us to...

The Epilogues

For better or for worse, I fucking love the Epilogues. I think Candy, on its own, is a fantastic and surreal deep dive into a mind high on depression. And as for Meat, I’m an absolute sucker for metafiction and narrative fuckery. I eat that shit right up. My favorite anime is Princess Tutu, etc., etc. This is your warning: Yes, this section will contain evidence toward my claim that Breath is influence. It also doubles as an Epilogues analysis. It kind of turns into one at the end. Sorry, but I needed to get it out of my system.

So, in case you missed it, the step above retcon powers that John never taps into is direct narrative control, like we see Dirk engaging in throughout the Meat side of the Epilogues. The fact that Dirk is revealed to be the narrator of Meat begs the question: who is narrating Candy? It’s never outright stated, but it’s probably alt!Calliope. Unlike Dirk, alt!Calliope doesn’t have an agenda, as far as we’re aware. So why is Candy so fucked up and weird? Why is everyone out of character? I know this comes as a shock, but: it’s probably John’s passive influence over the narrative.

Before the Epilogues even begin, John’s been wasting away in his house all day, every day. He’s depressed as hell. Sort of dissatisfied with how artificial and "perfect" Earth C is. Some have suggested he also feels disconnected from the post-retcon versions of his friends, and I think this holds some merit. It would explain why he feels disconnected from reality in Candy.

(Candy, 11)

Depression colors your view of reality. It darkens some parts, brightens others. People who look happy will appear so to an unsettling degree. Fucked up things will appear even more fucked up. Depression ups the contrast, if you will. And that’s pretty much what happens in Candy. Jane’s pretty bad in Meat, but she’s like a billion times worse in Candy. Jade causes some awkward moments in Meat, but she is pretty much a sex pest in Candy. The positive parallels are a bit harder to find, since Meat pretty much sucks too, but you could speculate that John perceives Rosemary to be happier together than they actually are, so they’re, like, uber happy together in Candy and raising a daughter and shit. It is John’s warped perception of reality that in turn warps it beyond recognition.

This isn’t just me theorizing, by the way. There’s pretty compelling evidence to suggest that this idea is accurate to what is happening. It’s pretty clear in a conversation between (Vriska), who has just arrived on Earth C via the black hole in the furthest ring and her descendant/clone Vriska (aka Vrissy in HS:BC). The two of them stare up at the sky, pointing out clouds and what they are shaped like, when (Vriska) has a realization.

(Candy, 37)

John’s influence over the reality is so absolute, even the clouds bend to his will. I think Vriska only notices it because she’s a new arrival to Johntown. It isn’t long before she’s absorbed into the John-ness of the timeline. And then, she goes on to say exactly what I’ve been saying this whole time. Remember earlier, when I said Vriska knew that John had an incredible amount of influence over Things That Happen?

(Candy, 37)

Yeah. That wasn’t speculation.

The last thing she says, though, that he’d be relevant even if he was dead, is actually a reference to Meat. So let’s talk about it!

As we know, Meat is narrated by Dirk. Dirk’s narrative style is a lot of fun for me, personally. He’s sassy, kind of an asshole, and has no time for bullshit. The second John puts that meat in his mouth, he gets to work, pulling the strings of his little puppet show.

(Meat, 1)

He wastes no time putting words in John’s mouth, writing him out of the story of Earth C as quickly as possible. It’s almost with a sense of urgency that he pushes John to complete his mission. Which is probably necessary, seeing as the sanctity of canon relies on him going back to tie up the loose end that is Lord English. But I think Dirk has ulterior motives. I don’t think Dirk has the ability to impose his will so overbearingly with John around, because for some reason, John’s power of passive influence prevents him from doing so. Is John more powerful than Dirk, even after his ascension to Ultimate Selfhood? Maybe. I certainly think so.

But John’s pretty gullible. He’s easily influenced. He doesn’t have the same safeguard around his own mind, for some reason. Or maybe he does, and it’s just taken Dirk this long to crack him? This is speculation at this point. Not important.

So Dirk eventually kills John. Why? Well, first of all, it’s harder to control the narrative with him around. Though I speculate that’s not very important to Dirk anymore since he fucks off to who knows where around when John comes back. I think, more likely, Dirk finds John’s influence on the narrative unsavory. I mean, just look at Candy. What an absolute disaster of a timeline. Maybe his awareness is such that he knows that letting John live will result in a similar degradation of his friends’ personalities as he knows them. I can’t really say one way or another. It’d explain why he wants John’s body on the ship with him, though. Y’know, to make sure he never gets revived. And yes, he wants him on that ship. He pretty much tells Terezi outright to captchalogue his body before convincing her to join him.

(Meat, 35)

There’s one problem, though. I don’t think John being dead even erased his influence on the narrative?

(Meat, 36)

Right there at the end:

The gentle breeze is all she can hear. It’s louder than my voice, and in some understated way, makes my case for me more persuasively.

I don’t think there’s any other way to read this than the breeze representing John. This is a literal manifestation of John’s influence. I guess it could be symbolic – like Terezi doing a “what would John do?” kind of thought process. But I dunno, Dirk doesn’t strike me as that kind of narrator. Besides... It’s a little too on the nose. Say what you will about the Epilogues, but I believe a great amount of care went into them. This certainly isn’t a throwaway line.

Conclusion

Okay, sorry. I really went off the deep end into Epilogues Analysis Land there. You may have noticed that I didn’t talk about Homestuck: Beyond Canon. That’s partly because I haven’t gotten there in my reread, but mostly because I’m not yet convinced that it has – or will have – nearly the level of plot consistency of its predecessors. We’ll see, I guess.

In any case... Breath as influence, huh? There’s probably more evidence for this hidden away somewhere. I probably could have talked about Rufioh. I didn’t want to though. I also probably could have pointed out the word inspire from the Extended Zodiac thing and called it a day, but instead I blacked out and wrote this. Weird!

If you read all, uh... *checks word count* 2.7k words of this??? Jesus fuck. If you read all this, thank you for reading. I’m open to feedback! I’d love to discuss some of this more! Especially the Epilogues stuff. I have a million thoughts. Bye!

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #john egbert #tavros nitram #dirk strider #vriska serket #homestuck analysis #homestuck meta #classpect #classpect analysis #breath aspect #mine #will i ever write that vriska essay? the world may never know #thx yall

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frost-queen · 1 year

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Burst like a glass balloon (Sis!Reader x Bridgerton brothers)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @freyathehuntress

Summary: Reader is the youngest of Bridgerton's. Your governess has a very abusive way towards you, gaslighting you into remaining quiet. One day your three brothers find out asking you why you didn't tell them, thinking they wouldn't believe you and you secretly deserved it.

“Again!” – your governess snapped, letting her wooden pointing stick slam against your desk. It started you, making you sniff loudly. – “And don’t make me see any tears!” – she made clear bending down inspecting your cheeks. You quickly wiped them dry. You moved your book closer to you, starting repeating the list of flowers by their Latin names. – “Abelia…Abutilon… Acacia…” – you said between sniffs as not a moment ago you had busted out in tears.

“Pronunciation miss Bridgerton!” – the governess made clear. She said it during your speech, making you stutter out the word. Her wooden stick coming down hard again. – “A lady does not stutter miss Bridgerton. Should I fetch you the bottle for only baby’s babble as much as you do!” – Her words carving deep into your heart. – “Perhaps I should start the basics with you all over again? How to walk, talk, sit, and eat properly for a lady. Is that what you require miss Bridgerton? Teaching for the simple minded?” – she asked with mockery.

“No…” – you answered softly. She pressed her hand down on your book, coming intimidatingly close to your face. – “Then do better!” – her voice as sharp as a knife. – “From the top.” – she insisted letting the wooden stick fall in her palm. – “But…” – you said. Big mistake. Her stick came down hard on your knuckles. You squeaked in pain untensing your fingers. – “I said again!”

You curled your fingers up to your palm, moving them down to your lap. Grabbing onto your dress tightly trying to forget the pain. – “Abelia… Abutilon…Acacia…” – you started over. Your governess nodding content as with each word her stick fell into her palm. You made sure to not falter as the slightest bit of hesitation awoke the feral beast inside of her. Her eyes would narrow coldly, her mouth pulled up to a hiss ready to spew out her personage of you.

Finishing the list of Latin flowers you felt out of breath. Mouth dry from speaking the long list that endured for hours. You turned around slowly in your seat, head down. – “Did I do good Governess?” – you asked nervously. She inhaled sharply through her nose. – “No.” – she casually expressed, making your eyes widen. – “Five whips to the knee.” – she informed you, approaching. You held your hands on your lap, already clenching onto your dress for the first impact.

The first whack made you press your lips together. Head turning away to not make a sound. The second made your body flinch, a soft yelp escaping your lips. The third one was brutal as it made your upper body shot forwards out of breath. The fourth numbed your knees with a tingling. Biting on the inside of your cheek to not make a sound. The fifth touch drew blood.

Hands trembled on your lap as your Governess laid some lost strays of hair back in place. – “Now Miss Bridgerton.” – she spoke lifting your chin up with her stick. – “Not a word to my family.” – you told her with tears in your eyes. – “Exactly.” – she warmed up a smile. A smile that never could warm your heart. – “What will they say when they find out how improper your behavior is during my lessons. How incompetent you are.” – she straightened her posture. – “I understand…” – you answered, blinking rapidly. – “I’ll never be like you.” – the words coming out so truly you started to believe them.

“Indeed miss Bridgerton. You never will be. Not every lady can accomplish many things.” – she spoke lowering her stick on you. She turned around, collecting her supplies. – “I’ll see you next time tomorrow.” – she clicked her suitcase shut, dragging it off your bed. You watched her leave before letting yourself slide down your chair onto the ground. Biting in your arm to deafen out your screams of pain. Body shuddering from the sharp pain rushing through you. Wiping your eyes dry, you carefully got up.

Knees trembling as they could barely hold you up. Stumbling over to the bowl filled with water by your vanity. Falling down in your seat, you slowly pulled up your dress. Revealing your knees. Still red and blue from previous punishments. The skin rough as some blood had made a way down your leg. A thin line of evidence. Sniffing loudly, you moved your hand through the water, wiping it up your leg afterwards. Water drippled when your hand got out again. The clear water slowly changing into color. You continued to clean your knees as if there never had been blood.

Face contracting when it pricked. You then held your hands in the water as it eased your muscles a bit. It was almost a routine after your lessons. Clean up to get rid of any evidence of harm. After all you needed to stay quiet. You didn’t want your family to know how not good enough you were. Your sisters surely never had such difficulties. Perhaps they were better suited to be a proper lady then you.

The thought of marrying a poor man crossing your mind. It was after all what your governess said. That you should be lucky to have such an average face for you would never taste the luxuries of a title. Not one deserving off. Letting your dress fall back over your knees, you took a deep breath. Taking the bowl of water, you moved over to your window. Pushing it open as you came sitting on the edge for a second.

Looking down at the ground beneath you. Quickly you emptied the water as it fell into the grass. A sudden knock at your door made you jump out of your skin. Quickly close the window once more, setting the bowl aside. A maid entered. – “Miss Bridgerton, diner is served.” – she told you. You nodded at her, following her downstairs.

You encountered Hyacinth and Gregory chatting loudly and happily over to the diner table. Anthony sitting down as a maid pulled his chair closer. Colin and Benedict already deep in a conversation. You came sitting down near Anthony. Eloise rushing in to join mama’s side. Francesca taking her seat beside you. Anthony smiled upon your arrival. – “How have your lessons been, Y/n?” – he asked laying a napkin on his lap. – “Productive…” – you answered, fumbling with your fingers nervously under the table.

“Has she taught you already French? I’d say I struggled a bit with it.” – Francesca said with a snort. You quietly shook your head. – “Not yet…” – you whispered. – “Y/n is still young.” – Anthony made clear to his sister. – “She will learn French soon enough and when she does, she will thrive at it.” – He turned his head to you with a warm smile. You couldn’t help yourself, but smile saddened back at him. Oh how high value he had of you. The first course arrived making you swallow nervously. Looking around carefully at everyone and how occupied they were.

You gently moved your hand above the table, picking up your spoon. About to put the spoon in your mouth, commented your brother Benedict on your hands. – “Y/n, did you hurt yourself? Your hands are red and scraped.” – his comment made you drop your spoon, hiding your hand underneath the table again. – “Let me see!” – Anthony insisted grabbing for your hand underneath the table.

You fought with every might to not let him see it, but your brother’s grip was stronger. He revealed your hand above the table, forming an opinion for himself. Letting his fingers brush gently under your knuckles. – “Did you fall in the garden?” – he asked worriedly. Pressing your lips together you remained silent. – “Y/n hasn’t been out in the garden all day.” – Colin pointed out. – “Truly?” – Benedict spoke on it with furrowed brows. – “Y/n how did you require it then?” – Benedict turned to you, barely touching his soup.

“The skin is rough… flesh scraped… this doesn’t seem like a first wound.” – Anthony said out loud, thinking as he carefully held your hand. You pulled your hand out of his, moving it down. Your little action made your brothers wary. – “Y/n tell us where you hurt yourself. If it happened numerous times we must do something about it.” – Colin made clear pointing with his spoon at you. – “Is it from a sharp edge from your nightstand? A certain type of fabric that is rough?” – Anthony suggested concerningly.

You couldn’t tell them, not even a bit. It was all getting too much for you. Making you push your chair back and take a run for it. Anthony threw his napkin on the table, getting up as well. – “Where… where is everyone going?” – Violet asked seeing her sons get up. – “A moment mama.” – Colin said with a bow before following his brothers. – “Y/n!” – Anthony shouted loud going in pursuit.

There was an attempt to escape them, unfortunately you failed miserably. Benedict grabbing you quickly by the shoulder. – “No!” – you called out, swaying your arms around to break free. – “Y/n what is the matter? We are simply concerned about you.” – Colin made clear trying to calm you. – “Let me go!” – you stomped firmly on your brother’s toes making him call it out in pain. His grip on you released, yet you stumbled to the ground.

The burn on your knees from hitting the floor made you flinch. Slowly you turned around to come and sit down, hands beside you. A part of your dress upwards making Anthony’s eyes widen. – “What is this!” – he called out, dropping to his knees as he pulled your dress up to reveal your knees. Benedict and Colin gasping in terror. Anthony’s jaw tensed. – “Y/n this isn’t from simply falling. What happened!” – he outed loudly seeing your bruised knees. Black and blue as the bruises barely had proper time to heal. Still you remained silent, looking away.

“The truth!” – Anthony shouted, moving his hands forwards to grab you. When he saw you flinch, he stopped, staring with wide eyes at you. Benedict lowering him beside Anthony. – “Y/n. Is someone hurting you?” – you couldn’t hold it anymore when Benedict asked it. Tears streaming down your face. Sobbing loudly and almost out of breath. – “Y/n who!” – Anthony demanded to know as Colin came kneeling beside you, pulling you close against his chest.

You shook your head not wanting to tell them. – “Y/n please I beg of you.” – Anthony spoke nearly sobbing himself from seeing his little sister in so much pain. That someone was hurting you. – “My governess…” – you cried out finally speaking about it. Benedict and Anthony shared a brief glance. “Why didn’t you tell us?” – Colin spoke stroking your back. – “Because… you wouldn’t have believed me… and besides…I…I deserve it.” – you outed wiping some tears away. – “No!” – Anthony said loudly, placing his hands on top of your knees.

“You did not deserve it. Not one bit of it. Your governess was wrong to treat you like this and she will not be forgiven for it.” – he added as Colin placed a kiss down your head. – “That is no way to treat any person… you didn’t deserve it Y/n, you certainly didn’t.” – Colin told you. Benedict took your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it. – “She won’t harm you anymore Y/n. We’ll make sure of it.” – Your brothers helped you up to your feet, group hugging you so tightly you felt the warmth of their heart. – “You are worthy Y/n. You are enough.”

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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ya-world-challenge · 2 years

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25 YA Books for Indigenous Peoples Day

NOTES: For brevity and diversity, I did not include all the North American Native books I found, but there are plenty more - feel free to post your favorites in the comments! Most books are from indigenous authors, but not all - do your own research if you like. Not all books may be “technically” YA. I’d love to hear more suggestions of Latin American indigenous stories or Hawai’ian native stories which were difficult to find.

EDIT: This is just a random list by a random tumblr blog from 2022 - get out there and find your own books or list some in the comments if you find this list lacking.

Australia

The Things She's Seen by Amebelin & Ezekiel Kwaymullina

The Boy from the Mish by Gary Lonesborough

Becoming Kirrali Lewis by Jane Harrison

Swallow the Air by Tara June Winch

Canada

The Missing by Melanie Florence

Sorrow's Knot by Erin Bow

Son of a Trickster by Eden Robinson

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

A Girl Called Echo by Katherena Vermette

Surviving the City by Tasha Spillett

Japan - Ainu

Golden Kamuy by Satoru Noda

Latin America

Saints of the Household by Ari Tison

Tree Girl by Ben Mikaelsen

The Huaca by Marcia Argueta Mickelson

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Lost Dreamer by Lizz Huerta

New Zealand - Maori

The Whale Rider, Witi Ihimaera

Falling into Rarohenga by Steph Matuku

United States

Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley

Trail of Lighting by Rebecca Roanhorse

Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

If I Ever Get Out of Here by Eric Gansworth

Hearts Unbroken by Cynthia Leitich Smith

Rain is Not My Indian Name by Cynthia Leitich Smith

#indigenous peoples day #indigenous #book list #fuck columbus #native american #first nations #diverse ya #diversity in media #diverse books #aboriginal #maori #latin america #north america #south america #australia #canada #japan #new zealand #united states

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postmodernbeliever · 2 months

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not for a second longer - fox mulder x female reader (fluff)

fox is coming home from a case that's got him missing you like crazy, and you're (im)patiently waiting.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

my ao3 | word count: 3,070

content tags: dorks in love, fox mulder misses you, domestic fox mulder, fluff, domestic fluff, worry, romance, waiting, overthinking, fox is an idiot (/pos), reunited and it feels so good, just soft fluff that's all, cross-posted on ao3, mentions of murder/case material but briefly!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

fox felt like if another second passed without hearing your voice, he might go insane, and this was a first- even for a complete lover boy like him.

the agent has been away on a case for a few days. not much shorter or longer than any other work he’s done, but this time he couldn’t bear being far from home. he’d done everything just as he always does- there were no changes in the routine he’s tailored since he met you. he called every night to let you know he was safe and hear about your day, even if it was late and he woke you up by doing so; he’d remind you to feed his fish, and ask you about that nagging coworker who the two of you nicknamed hannibal because he always brought something creepily edible for lunch (the man ate steak tartare like his life dependent on it, honestly.) and you’d complain, like always, and you’d ask how his case was going, which would lead to him willingly divulging all kinds of classified information just for fun. you’d offer advice if you could. you weren’t as invested in the paranormal as he was, but you’d had your share of spooky stories, so your middle-of-the-road perspective helped at times. the phone call was always the same, but it didn’t matter what you talked about. he just wanted to hear your voice as badly as you did his, and it put you both at ease. so he called.

like clockwork, fox admired the engraved backside of his watch before he fell asleep every night, where it said don’t keep me waiting. it was an inside joke that sparked when you’d first started dating. fox warned you up and down about how dangerous his job can be, how he’s been injured and in and out of hospitals and how multiple criminals are likely sitting on plans for his murder if they ever break out of incarceration. he prepared to see you get overwhelmed and leave him due to the potential stress; yet when he packed up for his first case, you kissed him softly, no fear to be felt, and told him not to keep you waiting because you couldn’t promise to keep his fishes alive while he was gone. the watch was last christmas’ gift, and he never took it off, especially when he was away.

fox even kept with his dorky tradition of taking one of the many shirts you’d left at his apartment and sleeping with it under his pillow, where he could hold onto it and feel like he at least had a piece of you while he was alone. when you found out he did such a thing, you teased him brutally, and then you began leaving clothes in every corner of the apartment for him to save. and you left your spare perfume bottle in his bathroom cabinet, so he could concentrate them with you.

the man took all the cheesiest precautions to make his work out of state bearable until he could solve the damned things and get back home, but even with all of his bases covered, it wasn't enough. something felt different this time. coming back to a motel every night, like he had for his whole career before he met you, was torture. every moment of the case strung him farther out. now, if you’d asked the lovely and level-headed dana scully why fox was so eager to be done with the case, she would’ve given you a plain and simple explanation: the two were investigating a string of seemingly unrelated murders by men unto their girlfriends, but fox had a suspicion that some kind of entity persuaded each man to kill the girl who kept their beds warm. and with every day that they didn’t track the cause down, he felt the pressing weight of your safety and how much he cared for you, and it was making him- as scully would kindly put it, of course- act out extremely irrationally. even you could put two and two together there, but he’d been a bit avoidant over the phone about this one job, so you didn’t know. fox refused to think about you in connection to the work, though, because to allow his brain to cross its signals and imagine you and him as victim and suspect (as a paranoid brain might) would just be stupid. but whether he meant to think of you or not, everything was putting him on edge by association, and he was itching to see you happy and healthy and still his.

by the time fox deciphered that the newest date-night romantic comedy at the local movie theater was having midnight showings, and the ticket booth operator was a twenty-five year old involuntary celebate who was admitting loving couples into the place and watching them make out right in front of his jealous eyes, the case was a one-and-done. scully didn’t buy that the employee was telekinetically causing the boyfriends to kill, but the kid got shot in a police chase, so fox was left to his conclusions and she to hers. and he couldn’t drag her ass out of town fast enough. fox was two hours early to the airport. he bounced his leg on the entire flight home, and scully barely got a “see you tomorrow” out by the time he hailed a cab and ordered the driver to his address.

his gut was twisting itself in knots, hoping you’d be home. you practically lived with him by how much time you spent at his apartment; the truth was that he was away so often, and you just couldn’t sleep unless you could curl up in his bed, with his pillows and blankets and wearing his clothes, and let everything that belonged to him comfort you until you got the man back himself. he knew you’d be there- it was nearly one in the morning. but still, after all this time staring at dead girls and thinking about how in love they were with the trusted boys who slit their throats, he just wanted to collect you into his arms and keep you there.

you were wide awake because you knew he was on his way. you stayed up all night watching all the classic movies he had on tape, glancing at the clock, trying to stop obsessing over the unlikely crash of his plane. you were standing in his little kitchen, watching the tea kettle boil and listening to the fuzzy transatlantic accents yapping a room away, when the front door of the apartment swung open.

you didn’t even have time to leave the kitchen. fox threw his bags down like a child and scurried to you, engulfing you in his arms; he drew your body snugly into his and buried his face in your shoulder. he was squeezing the air from your lungs, but you didn’t mind. you combed your fingers through his moussed-up hair, breaking up the curated clumps and reminding it of how it naturally fell against his head. he smelled just as he did when he left, like his ralph lauren polo green- minty and smoky, and so much himself. his soft leather jacket hung onto the smell of his taxi, but you ignored the staleness and inhaled the good stuff.

“i missed you so much,” fox sighed. the man showered you with kisses all over your neck and jaw, traveling up the valleys of your cheeks to make sure he got your eyes and nose and forehead, too. you squirmed playfully and swatted at his hands, but he only smiled and fought you off.

“jeez, it’s like you thought i died or something!” you giggled.

fox’s eyes flashed with something that looked like momentary worry, and then it was gone- replaced with a warmth you’d missed more than you realized the past few days. his arms were around you again, this time much gentler, and he asked, “you feel safe with me, don’t you?”

“what? fox, why would you even ask that? of course i do,”

“you know i’d never hurt you,”

“baby, you’re the only person in the world i feel safe with.” you promised, petting the back of his head softly, smoothing the hair down his neck. with both hands, you lifted his face from your shoulder and brought his face close, so you could look right into his ruminative eyes. the man smiled as your thumbs caressed the stubble growing in on his cheeks, those rounded teeth poking out beneath his top lip the way you adored. your chest fluttered, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“are you okay, baby?” you asked, knocking your forehead against his playfully.

the man dipped his neck low and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. somehow it felt more intimate than if he’d truly kissed you; like by being an inch off base, he was saying more than the real thing could. he always did things like that, such small gestures that would go unnoticed if he was any other guy and you were any other girl, but every move fox made was conscious. each one was a choice that meant something. kissing you in such a way wasn’t a mistake, it was purposeful- he was proving his allegiance, ruling your mouth was more sacred and deserved to be earned. he was poetic in that respect, you knew it, and it made every hair on your body stand up. maybe that’s why you shifted your position and locked him in a normal kiss- a forceful one, at that. to remind him that you were nothing sacred, just someone who desperately loved him.

you’d missed the way his lips molded to yours, the familiar chapped patches that came from his nervous biting, the way his scruff scratched your chin. you even missed the feeling of his breath as it blew out of his nose and across your face, warm and frequent, because he always seemed to breathe faster when you got close, like a teenage boy. you kissed him hard, letting your hands fall down his chest and press against his abdomen, remembering the sculpted curves of his stomach beneath his t-shirt. fox’s lips curled upwards as you touched him, and in those few moments of your neediness, he was sure you meant what you said before- that you truly did feel safe with him.

when he pulled away, he brought the pad of his thumb to your plump bottom lip, holding you by the chin. “i’ve been going crazy without you, you know.”

“so have-” you began, but were cut off by the sudden screeching of the forgotten kettle behind you. both fox and yourself jumped, and you rushed to twist the knob on the stove, shutting the thing up in frustration. “sorry.”

“it’s okay,” the agent chuckled.

“you want some?”

“only if you bring it over to the couch for me,” fox said, batting his eyelashes jokingly.

“what am i, your mother?” you countered.

fox rolled his eyes and pressed another kiss to your lips, rebutting, “no, but you do love me, don’t you?”

“oh, shut up. go unpack.”

you listened to his footsteps as he went to retrieve his bags and haul them to his bedroom. smiling to yourself, you waited to hear him open the door and laugh. every time he came home, you left his bed an unruly mess and accumulated as many water cups on his nightstand as possible, and he had a love-hate relationship with it (mostly love, because he adored the idea of you living in his space.) a full-bodied sound came from the other side of the apartment, a hearty one, and a voice called, “impressive collection you’ve got in here!”

with two steeping cups of oolong you walked slowly back to fox’s living room, where his copy of vertigo had rewinded to the start. you settled into the couch, putting your feet up on the coffee table and watching jimmy stewart dangle from a drainpipe as you awaited your boyfriend’s return. it always took him a little while to unpack because it was more like repacking- he would swap out all his worn clothes with new ones and throw everything in the hamper, and he had to take out all his necessities only to keep them somewhere easy for him to grab come the next time work sends him away. you were used to waiting for him, but how he acted tonight was making you impatient.

when fox was finally done and changed into a clean shirt and pajama pants, he headed towards the hallway to come and sit with you. but he paused when he came to the corner, making his steps quiet, so he could take a look at you undisturbed. you were slouched on his old, rickety couch, in clothes all belonging to him; a pair of old gray sweatpants that hugged your thighs, given they were a bit bigger than his skinny ones, his old oxford long sleeve that has a hole in the neck, and a frumpy blue grandpa-style cardigan he hasn’t worn in years. your hair was tucked away in an unraveling braid, with little locks fanning like leaves across the apples of your cheeks. your chipped nails cradled the mug in your palms, and the colors from the box television danced in the reflection of your chunky tortoiseshell glasses. he imagined you sitting like this while he was off on a case, at home in his home, watching his movies and wondering about him like he did of you late at night. you were so pretty and so important that he felt the love buzzing in his fingertips and toes.

the man came around the corner and sat down cautiously on the couch so as not to spill your tea. your face softened at his arrival, and you leaned forward to place your cup down and clamber back to him, throwing your arms around his neck. fox hoisted you onto his lap despite your objections, and he hugged you tighter. he just didn’t feel like letting you go tonight, it seemed.

“did you eat?” you asked, looking down into those puppy eyes that gazed up.

“a little while ago.”

“how long was a little while ago?”

“...ten o'clock this morning?” fox grinned sheepishly.

“fox! aren’t you starving? let me go heat something up, i got chinese last night-”

“shh, no, not yet,” he grabbed your hips as you tried to get off of him, “don’t go anywhere yet. sit for a minute.”

“but-”

“no buts. just sit with me a little longer and then i promise i’ll eat, okay?”

you sighed, only half-aggravated, and nodded softly. “alright, fine.”

you rested your head in the crook of his neck, your shoulder pressed to his; he twisted you a bit so you had a chance to look at the tv and sit on him at the same time. fox’s fingers traced mindless shapes against the fabric of his sweatpants on your knee, finally at ease. you stole a glance at him from the side and admired the way even his harshest features seemed to curve softly; his square jaw melted into his neck, his aquiline nose a pretty protrusion alongside his lashes that curled wildly. you always thought his face was the most deserving of marble preservation, far more than those ancient guys.

“you're missing the movie,” he flushed.

“i already watched it tonight.”

the man nuzzled your forehead like a puppy, feeling his stomach flip as your palm rested flat against his chest. you snuggled right up to him and let out a heavy breath you didn’t know you were holding. the two of you sat quietly for a while, taking turns watching each other and remembering what it felt like to be close, and you were half-asleep in the comfort of his arms when his stomach growled and woke you up.

“i’m gonna go make you something,” you chuckled.

“awh, come on, you were just about to sleep!” he whined.

“fox, i want you to eat. once you have a little something then i’ll climb right back on you, promise,” you teased, pushing up off the couch.

“whatever,” he groaned, but there was a toothy smile behind the complaint, so you took it well.

fox watched as you sauntered off to the kitchen, and he called after you, “hey, wait,”

“what?”

the man hopped off the couch and scrambled to the doorway, where you were only feet from the refrigerator. he stooped down and planted a smooch to your forehead, muttering an, “i love you.”

“just can’t leave my side now, hm?” you nudged fox’s nose with your own and gave him a look so fond it nearly melted him into a puddle on the kitchen tile. “i love you more. now beat it, spooky.”

“hey!”

“shush. go sit down and i’ll make it up to you later.”

‘you’re bossy,” fox crossed his arms, leaning against the wood molding and watching you move towards the fridge.

“well, if you’re not gonna leave, then at least get a pan for me to heat this rice up in, would you?” you ordered, shaking the day-old fried rice container in his face.

“anything for you, darling.”

being without each other could feel impossible at times. no matter how he tried, no set routine could recreate the feeling of falling asleep beside you; nor could any amount of his laundry could conjure fox himself to send you off to work with a kiss every morning. his work made it easy to miss him. but moments like this, where he watched you make him a late-night snack that he would share with you, were the moments that made all the waiting worth it. and the moments that will come after, too- the couch that was waiting for you both to come back to, where you’d fall asleep with your face against his neck, and where he’d fall asleep watching you breathe. nobody knew that absence makes the heart grow fonder more intimately than you two did. but even with that in mind, neither of you cared about that right now.

he was simply thankful to be with you, the one he called home; thankful that he didn’t have to be without you for a second longer, and so were you.

#spooky mulder #x files #fox mulder #fox mulder x you #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder x reader fluff #domestic fluff #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #x files fanfic #Spotify

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burntheedges-updates · 10 months

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Over Again - main post & chapter list

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming.

or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)

18+ minors DNI

key themes: alternating timeline (2000-2003 / 2023-2024), 90s/00s country and latin music and dancing, romance, family vibes series tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, romance, light angst (plus the angst of thinking the other person is dead for 20 years, aka the TLOU norm), pet names (darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl), small age difference (reader is 26, Joel is 32/almost 33 when they meet in 2000), no use of y/n, teacher!reader (with vague details), smut (I'll update specific warnings for each chapter, but just FYI for later chapters: Joel calls reader a good girl, neck grabbing (no breath play), a bit of manhandling and spitting, a lot of sex) (feel free to dm any specific questions) a/n about reader: I've paid a lot of attention to how the reader is described in this fic. I've avoided skin color, hair type, body shape/size descriptions, and even clothing (except for one or two spots where you are specifically wearing jeans and boots). You are vaguely shorter than Joel. He does not run his fingers through your hair, and you feel the blood rush to your face or your face heat, but you don't turn red or pink. Please tell me if you notice anything I missed - I want this to be as inclusive as possible. a/n: this is the first fic I've written in almost 20 years. this man, I swear. wordcount: 42.6k

This fic is completely finished and posted! Chapter links under the cut.

Read it on ao3

Bonus: Mix CD (plot related) & series playlist, with headcanons: here.

Chapter List

Five times you and Joel fell deeper in love…

Chapter 1 - Meet Cute - Jackson, Early Winter 2023 | Austin, Summer 2000

Chapter 2 - Breaking the Ice - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 3 - Dinner - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 4 - First Date - Jackson, Spring 2024 | Austin, Spring 2001

Chapter 5 - Staying Over - Boston, September 26, 2003 | Jackson, Spring 2024

… and one time you did something about it.

Epilogue: Together - Austin, December 2002 | Jackson, Early Fall 2024

Outtakes and Snippets

Canned Heat (Austin, October, 2001)

Preview/sneak peeks: fic preview | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #x reader

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soleilonthesun · 5 days

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🃏A THEORY OF THE SOLEIL REPORTER? BLLK X THE TAROT 📸🔮

Soleil: *Looks at the cameras, and has a Tarot deck in her hands* Hello again, in my studio. Today Hiori Yo joins us along with Yukimiya Kenyu today!

Yukimiya: *waves at the cameras* Hello everyone!

Hiori: *Looks at the cameras too, and the Tarot deck* What do you have there, Miss Soleil?

Soleil: *Shows the Tarot deck in her hand* This? The Tarot.

Hiori: The Tarot?

Soleil: That's right! The Tarot is a deck of 78 cards, which is made up of the major and minor arcana. The word "arcanum" comes from the Latin "arcanum", which means mystery. It is a fairly widespread practice in the world of occultism, Hiori.

Yukimiya: Then why do you have the tarot in your hands?

Soleil: Good question. But, a CF GIRLFRIEND member and I were talking about this, @milkteansugar. It was quite interesting to see the Tarot cards with the Blue Lock players, or other players on U20 teams.

Hiori and Yikumiya: *They eyes light up* Oh, god, and how did that happen?

Soleil: Very good question, so I will answer it today. *Looks at the cameras* We will talk about the 22 major arcana cards. So, we will talk about 22 players.

Hiori: Oooooh. I saw this in a game...

Soleil: Below I will post images with the player. And I will explain my theory with the player version!

Yukimiya: What does that mean, Miss Soleil?

Hiori: *With mind racing*

Soleil: Well... Isagi Yoichi may be the heart of the Blue Lock, or the strategic one. Therefore, I unite it with the first card of the Tarot: The Fool.The crazy one means the beginnings, on the other hand, the surprise, the potential and above all, the risks. Doesn't Isagi take a lot of risks when it comes to the field of football?

Hiori: Too many risks. But doesn't the tarot also have negative symbols, Miss Soleil?

Soleil: That's right, but today we will talk about the positive meanings. I don't want this video to be longer than normal. *Soleil smiles brightly at him*

Yukimiya: Ooh, then Isagi Yoichi would be the crazy one, right? Knowing him, he's definitely a football nut. Take a lot of risks, as if they were a gamble. And he takes many opportunities on the field, making him a strategic player for Bastard Munchen.

Soleil: That's right. With that, PXG player Reo Mikage makes me think. In which one with "The Hanged Man."

Hiori: The Hanged Man? Why?!

Soleil: *Tries not to laugh* We know that Reo Mikage is a charismatic and witty person. And she has a lot, a lot of determination in new challenges and experiences... So, he's a utility player, right?

Yukimiya: *Assists* That's right. But does it have to do with the Hanged Man?

Soleil: The Hanged Man is faith and surrender. At the same time, it is detachment, waiting and acceptance of oneself.

Hiori: Does that mean Reo has a lot of dedication in football?

Yukimiya: *Turns to see Hiori* We played against Manchine City, and seeing Reo... It seems like he has a lot of passion.

Soleil: Not only Reo Mikage, but also for Alexis Ness, the magician of Bastard Munchen.

Hiori: Alexis?

Soleil: Look at this, gentlemen.

Yukimiya and Hiori: *Look at the Tarot card*

Soleil: For the magician of Bastard Munchen, he has total trust with Michael Kaiser, and total control with the ball. That is the general meaning of the magician. There is also manifestation, will and action. Ness is always present on the team, as if he were a guardian.

Hiori: That makes sense!

Yukimiya: And also, he always wants to do things perfect. We already have three players. What will be the fourth?

Soleil: The next tarot card is Death.

Yukimiya: But didn't you say that we are going to talk about positive things? Why is the Tarot Card upside down?

Soleil: Good question. The Death card means change, the death of the ego, renewal and the end of the cycle... But, he has none of that.

Hiori: But, the other way around, right?

Soleil: Exactly. The Death card reversibly means the opposite of what I have said now: There are obstacles within him, and furthermore, although he "has changed", he has changed for better or worse, which is why they call him the Broken Hero.

Yukimiya: He has changed a lot after the Wild Card and his obstacle is Shidou...

Soleil: That's right. You're right!

Hiori: Next is The Priestess. TRUE?!

Soleil: *Tries not to laugh* That's right. With that.. We already have five players. The Priestess would be perfect for Chigiri Hyoma.

Hiori: Not because he has long hair, right?

Soleil: Hey, his hair is pretty!! We know that Chigiri is the leopard of Manshine City.

Hiori: From what I understand... The Priestess represents passivity, silence, reception, knowledge and secrets.

Soleil: That's right. Chigiri is all of this. He has knowledge of other players, and knowledge of how to have such clean and soft hair... But, but, but, he is also good at receiving the ball, thus creating a good ally with his own secrets and silence. Because the leopard approaches silently to devour its prey.

Hiori: Oh, god... I never saw Chigiri that way?

Yukimiya: Bad choice of words, *tries not to laugh*

Hiori: But, but! *Hiori is a little red*

Soleil: With this, we have five cards... And we are missing more than half. *Soleil looks at the missing cards*

Hiori: But, but! Does that mean this video ends, or is there a second part?

Soleil: Calm down, Hiori! We have five players, at the moment, but in the future we will talk about more. Because on this blog it won't let me put more than 10 images..

Yukimiya: How interesting it is to see this. By the way, what Tarot card am I, Miss Soleil?

Hiori: And me?!

Soleil: Mmm... Yukimiya would be Temperance.

Yukimiya: Temperance?

Soleil: In the next video we will talk more about that! And as for Hiori: the Hermit.

Hiori: The Hermit?

Soleil: That's right. But, but, but, *Looks at the cameras* We will continue talking more about this in the next few days! Since the Blue Lock are many players, we will divide each one into five players. Today we are talking about Isagi, Ness, Chigiri, Kunigami and Chigiri. Next time it will be a surprise!

Hiori: I've searched for the Hermit!

Soleil: But, don't even spoil it, we will talk about the Tarot card in the next videos.

Yukimiya: That can be found in Magazine 2, right?

Soleil: That's right!! *Looks at the cameras again* Thank you very much for reading my crazy theories! The next video will be uploaded in the next few days! And please, don't forget to subscribe to the channel: @Soleil-The-Reporter!

Hiori: But this is not YouTube--

Yukimiya: Sssssh.

>>>#Behind the scenes:

Soleil: Looking forward to talking more!!

@milkteansugar: It's okay, Soleil! So, the next video... When will it be?

Soleil: No idea, with the exams I have... *Sighs*

Hiori: I am the Hermit...

Soleil: Yes, yes, you are. But, we will talk about it in the following videos. You already know what it means, right?

Hiori: Just so you know, I like solitude and reflection-

Soleil: *Tries not to laugh* And also, video games!

• s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s • s •

Mentions to..: @milkteansugar @milaisreading @merlucide @hooudie212 @kuro-min @kurona-theshark @someprettyname @jujutsustraycats @blue-thief @wroophruh @riririnnnn @bueris @galaxynajma @satosuguhastakenovermylife + CF GIRLFRIEND

#girlfriend fc #blue lock #bllk #Blue Lock theories #tarot x Bllk #fc girlfriend #soleil the reporter

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h0neytalk · 7 months

Text

Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.

#arabic langblr #learning arabic #ref #reference #langblr resources #langblr #language lessons #language resources #language learning #mine

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exhuastedpigeon · 1 month

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hiii, i just saw your tags on a post about catholicism and I know you watch 911, so i was wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing your thoughts on how you'd like to see 911 handle the whole Eddie is a lapsed catholic and has catholic guilt and is now dating a former almost-nun. do you think eddie's going to have a moment of "oh, actually i want to do mass and confessions again because thanks to my lovely girlfriend marisol, ive found my faith again"?

ANON I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED! I'm going to put some of my own experiences under the cut at the end of this ask because I think the context is at least a little important.

I think someone like @monsterrae1 will also have a ton of insight into this as another recovering Catholic and as someone from a Latin Catholic background that's probably similar to Eddie's.

Now to my take:

When they brought in Marisol's backstory of being a novice nun I laughed so hard I fell out of my chair and then I got really excited because bringing religion into Eddie's story is, in my opinion, the most obvious path for Eddie's queer awakening and an arc where Eddie unpacks a lot of his catholic guilt and repression.

If Eddie goes back to Church, which I think he might based on Bobby's advice not because of Marisol, I don't think it's going to be a 'oh wow I missed this!' moment, I think it would be the start of a journey where Eddie realizes how impacted he is by Catholic guilt and how even if he hasn't gone to church in years, it's impacted so many aspects of his life.

Eddie saying he's a manchurian catholic and has a reservoir of catholic guilt he didn't realize was there was so funny to me because that man doesn't even realize how his catholic guilt has impacted his life. Every time he ignores his own feelings for other people. every time he tries to do what he thinks people want of him instead of what he wants. every time he shoved down his feelings to 'do what's right' that's catholic guilt, baby.

My personal feelings on it are that Eddie is going to realize that he's been repressing a lot about himself... like maybe his sexuality. He's been comphet coded for years. From the panic attack of Ana being called his wife to saying dating feels like a performance to what he said last episode about the church being a big reason he and Shannon got married. (This isn't to say he didn't love Shannon because he did, we know how much he did even after their relationship was dead in the water).

I think we'll probably get an Eddie/Marisol breakup in the next few episodes - likely triggered by Eddie realizing he's maybe not straight and maybe he needs to figure himself out. Or maybe because he still can't get it up around her because of the nun reveal. Or maybe for some other reason - like maybe Marisol is a little homophobic.

They're setting up a perfect 'queer repressed Eddie' arc. They've set it up since before the move to ABC, even if they didn't do it on purpose.

I don't think it's going to be an easy journey for Eddie though. He's probably go so much internalized homophobia inside of him. He's got so much to unlearn and so much he needs to learn to love about himself. That's one of the reasons I hope Tommy sticks around - he's someone Eddie could lean on and learn from because he came out later in like - he came from a similar background with the military - he's someone Eddie could trust with that.

Now, a little backstory on my own relationship with Catholicism before I dive in - I was raised very Catholic, church every Sunday, Catholic school (uniform and all) from kindergarten all the way to high school, I was confirmed, I was my sister's confirmation sponsor, I was an alter server, I was a lead in my high school's church choir.

But my Catholic background is also not the exact same as Eddie's. He specified he comes from Latin Catholics and that's an important distinction because different cultures have a different approach to Catholicism. I'm originally from the states and while I'm not Irish-American or Italian-American but, I was raised in a very Irish and Italian neighbourhood (lots of first and second gen immigrant folks) and have probably a more 'Irish-American/Italian-American Catholic' perspective.

I am not practicing anymore and have gone to so much therapy for what my therapist calls 'religious trauma' because Catholicism, my teachers, and some of my priests, made me hate myself for existing even before I knew why I hated myself. Catholicism and the way they speak about queer people and the way they speak about sex is extremely regressive and when you learn about it from a very young age, you internalize that.

I also experience guilt when I do basically anything for myself that isn't beneficial to other people. You're made to feel selfish for having needs. I just... don't like organized religion because of my experience with the church.

I spent like 21 years hating myself and feeling tremendous guilt about my feelings towards women and every time I would kiss a girl I would play if off as 'oh haha it's just for laughs' because Catholic. One of my best friends in university once said to me, "I'm gay, but I'm catholic so I'm straight". He's now married to a woman and has a kid and every time I see him he looks worse and sadder. He struggles with addiction, likely because he's trying to numb himself. I think any religion that makes someone feel that way is toxic.

#asked and answered #eddie diaz #catholic guilt

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japeneselunchtimerush · 5 months

Text

Continutation of my previous post but its just incorrect quotes.

Kise: what's a word that's a mix between angry and sad?

Akashi: malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated

Aomine: smad

Akashi: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Aomine and Kise: Ours just say “No.”

Akashi: And I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

Mayuzumi: you played me like a fiddle

Bokushi: actually, fiddles are quite difficult to play. I played you like a cheap kazoo

Akashi: Kuroko, please keep an eye on Kise. He's gonna say something to Midorima and get himself punched.

Kuroko: Sure Akashi-kun, I'd love to see Kise get punched.

Akashi: Try again.

Kuroko: I will stop Kise from getting punched.

Akashi: Correct.

Akashi: oh, are you and Kise no longer…

Aomine: smushing booties?

Akashi: …yes that’s exactly how i was going to phrase my sentence, Aomine.

Bokushi talking to Nash: you think you can just bully people, but you can’t. it’s not okay.

Bokushi: i’m the bully around here. ask anyone.

Bokushi: i only feel one emotion, and it’s indifference.

Oreshi: last night you drunk-texted the whole team a bunch of heart emojis.

Bokushi: ...indifferently.

Murasakibara: i really miss these people, the whole team. Aka-chin, Mido-chin…

Murasakibara: …i forget all their other names.

Himuro: *judgemental eyebrow raise*

Midorima: You know archaic Latin?

Akashi: I got bored with classical Latin.

Midorima: You know normal Latin?

Akashi: Yeah someone from my knitting club taught me.

Midorima: YOU HAVE A KNITTING CLUB?

Akashi: You don't know everything about me Midorima. Now do you want a sweater or a scarf?

Momoi: 'You'll never find the body' is such a boring threat. A better threat would be; 'You'll never stop finding the body.'

Akashi, bored: Or just say, 'They'll be finding parts of you for at least four months...and you'll still be alive for three of them.'

Momoi: Now that's a threat!

The rest of the GoM: *horrified silence*

Murasakibara: do you think I could fit fifteen marshmallows in my mouth?

Midorima: ...you are a hazard to society

Aomine: and a coward. do twenty

[Akashi after the GoM do something really stupid but he's running on t-2 seconds of sleep and a cup of tea]

Akashi : I am offended. I am angry. I am very tired. So I am gonna take a nap but when I wake up, oh you are *in* for it.

The GoM:...

Four hours later...

Akashi: How. DARE. You!

Kuroko: remember how furious you got that time when Aomine ended a letter with "thx" instead of "thanks"?

Akashi: why would you bring this up??

Himuro: So,Shuu , tell us everything! Did you call Akashi’s dad first?

Nijimura: I actually did!

*time skip back*

Nijimura, on the phone: Mr Akashj? I’m calling to inform you that I plan to ask your son to marry me. But since it’s 2016 I am NOT asking for your permission since he is not your property. NOR WOULD HE BE MINE IF HE CHOOSES TO SAY YES! He’s a strong independent man and he don’t need no man! That being said I truly hope he says yes. But it’s HIS decision so just BACK OFF!

Hinuro: aww, that was perfect! What did he say?

Nijimura: I have no idea I left a voicemail I’m terrified of him.

[Back at it again with the nijiaka]

Bokushi: Wait you like me?

Mibuchi: Yes

Bokushi: ... for my personality?

Mibuchi: I was surprised too

#akashi seijuro #midorima shintarou #murasakibara atsushi #aomine daiki #bokushi #oreshi #kise ryota #mayuzumi chihiro #mibuchi reo #LOL idk man

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sweatervest-obsessed · 6 months

Text

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

New Spencer Reid x Reader Mini Series!

The first will be updated tomorrow at 7 pm. Part two will be December 15 at 7, and then December 19 at 7pm !

(I will also be posting in between those dates as well, but I want to create a mini schedule for myself so I keep writing!)

Teaser below hehe!

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?”

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?”

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back.

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.”

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.”

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say.

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.”

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n fluff #Spencer reid x y/n angst

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borathae · 11 months

Text

↳ Index [Chapter 34 - Deliratio]

• Deliratio (Latin, delirium)

Warnings: big sad, OC is kinda crazy from what happened but I kinda love her like that, magical violence, Tae is trying his hardest to be a supportive boyfriend, remember how I said that I wanted nothing but happiness from now on? I lied jafjds

Wordcount: 4.9k

a/n: unironically one of my fave chapters no joke, I love an unhinged OC

“Darling? The dinner is finished, don’t you want to come with me?”

“I’ve got no time, need to read.”

Taehyung studies your form. Your posture is terrible. Squatting on the floor with dozens and dozens of books surrounding you and your back hunched over. The room smells of too little oxygen and burned down candles.

“Darling. The dinner is finished”, Taehyung repeats himself.

“And I told you, leave me alone!” you scream at him, but Taehyung doesn’t budge.

“___ please come with me and eat something”, he tries in a soft voice.

“I can’t”, you insist, “can’t you see? I have so much to read.”

“The reading isn’t going to go anywhere.”

“Yes, yes it will. I have to finish this.”

“Come now, let’s eat something”, Taehyung tries only to get one of the books thrown at him.

“Get out!”

He catches it before it can hit his chest, letting out a worried sigh afterwards.

“___ sweetest”, he tries, setting the book down on one of the countless desks. They were all bending under the weight of too many books and trinkets. He steps over the circle of books and squats down next to you, “let’s get you something to eat, please.”

“Why can’t you listen?” you hiss, flinching when you feel his touch on your arm.

“Because I care about you and I want you to be healthy.”

“I’m okay.”

“No you are not, you haven’t had breakfast nor lunch and I can’t allow you to miss out on dinner as well.”

“I’ll eat later.”

“___ please.”

“No. Leave.”

“___ I’m serious. Come with me or I’ll start using force.”

“I’ll give you an aneurism if you try.”

Taehyung sighs in defeat.

“Please, come with me”, he says softly, caressing your arm.

“I can’t”, you spit, looking at him with your bloodshot, tired eyes, “it’s been two months and I can’t slack now. I have to figure it out. All of it. What happened back then, why he is in such a state and how I can fucking fix it.”

“And you will”, Taehyung intertwines his fingers with you, “we will, but right now your mission is to get food into your system and energy back to your brain.”

“Leave me alone. This is your last warning.”

“Boss?”

Taehyung turns upon hearing the deep voice behind them. Your head snaps to the tall man in the library.

“What?” you hiss, sounding irritated.

“My group and I did the rounds as you asked. The forest’s cleared out for now”, Fredrick says.

Taehyung feels you relax at Fredrick’s words.

“Good. How many did you meet?” you ask the big vampire.

“Five. They were remotely younger than me.”

“Good. They’re taken care of?”

“Of course."

“Good. And the west fields?”

“Fringella didn’t return yet.”

“She’s slow.”

“She’s got lots to take care of. Her group ran into a dozen of his followers.”

“Mhm. Send some of your people for aid and return to your posts.”

“Yes, boss”, Fredrick says and studies your books, “any…” he hesitates, licks his lips, “any progress?”

“Soon.”

“Understood”, Fredrick says and turns to leave.

“Fredrick?” you stop him.

“Yes, boss?”

“Tell Fringella to get her act together. She’s slacking.”

“I will.”

“Good. Leave.”

“Understood.”

Fredrick leaves the library and won’t be seen for the rest of the night. He and his closest followers have been guarding the estate ever since that happened. Namjoon’s followers are stubborn and more than willing to start an attempt of freeing their leader. With him not here, the estate would be too dangerous. Fredrick agreed to stand guard instantly. Fringella agreed once her husband did. She calls you boss these days and takes orders from you.

“Fucking shitshow”, you murmur, burying yourself back in your books.

Taehyung studies your features with furrowed brows. He runs the back of his hand down the side of your face even if that makes your features scrunch up in distaste.

“Please come with me and eat something”, he whispers.

“I’ll eat later.”

“Please ___.”

You stay silent. Taehyung already knows what that means. You won’t budge no matter how much talking he does. You have made up your mind. The library is your place to stay and nobody, not even Taehyung, can change that.

He gives up with a sigh.

“Fine”, he says sadly, standing up, “then stay.”

And with that he abandons you in your madness, leaving your mind just as quickly as he had entered it. You don’t even hear the door close and later the door to the sitting room. You also don’t hear the roaring of thunder as the forecasted storm finally starts. You see the lightning. It flashes over the yellowed pages in a bluish hurry, leaving behind blurry figures in your vision. You blink, getting rid of them this way and focusing your gaze back on the letters. It must be in here somewhere. The answer to all of this.

Taehyung returns with a tray of food. He eyes you. You look even more hunched over than you did when he left you.

“Darling, look”, he says, placing the tray on the desk by the windows, “I brought you food. Hoseok made sure that it is warm.”

“Why can’t you listen?”

“And why can’t you? I just want to make sure that you don’t faint.”

You lift nothing but your eyes, looking at him. The worry is almost eating him up, you can see it weigh down his shoulders.

With a loud sigh you sit back on your heels, finally lifting your head.

“Can you help me translate some passages?” you ask him, “I don’t know what they mean.”

“Yes, I can. But only if you eat as I work.”

“Fine. I will eat.”

Taehyung stays with you for the rest of the day. He translates unknown passages to you, makes sure that you eat and he lets you sleep with your head rested on his thigh once you pass out in exhaustion. He carries you to bed that night. He tugs you in and holds you to make sure that all those nightmares stay away from you. He wakes up empty handed the next day and he knows that he will find you hidden somewhere in your books. And he begins his routine anew. Cook food, get rejected until he somehow manages to convince you to eat. It pains him that it became a routine these days.

You shove the big, black keys back into your pockets. They jingle as you do so, soon getting muffled by the fabric. It reeks of old cellar down here and the very faint stench of ammoniac. It guides your way, just as the torches do as they flicker on one by one the moment you pass by them.

You know that much these days.

Quite frankly, you know a lot of things these days. You know how to light a fire with just a flicker of thought, you know how to give someone an aneurism or how to make their lungs cramp up, you also know how to grow plants with just a touch of your fingers and how to put up barrier spells.

You know a lot of things these days. You can destroy, protect, nurture and heal. But one thing you can’t fucking do. And it is the one thing you want to do more than anything else.

“Good day”, you say loudly as you enter the round room.

Groaning greets you.

“Yeah, yeah shut up. I know you guys are hungry”, you mumble, “if you’re being good, maybe I’ll feed you tonight.”

“Let us go, witch”, one of them hisses at you.

“No? Who do you think I am? You guys are useful.”

You finally turn, scanning your eyes over the room.

Fuck, to think that you once begged for your life in that room. Thinking back, you were so innocent. And weak. Nobody could get you to beg so pathetically again these days. Especially not Namjoon.

You bite down your anger and swallow it harshly, making your way to the chained up vampires at the east end of the room.

“Come with me”, you grumble, grabbing a woman by her neck and dragging her away from the others. The chains open with a flick of your wrist, but she can’t escape. Not when you dig your fingers into her body with a dark spell.

“Let me go”, she protests, “we didn’t do anything to you.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong. You see? You assholes served Namjoon.”

You press her into the chair where once upon a time, Namjoon had you captured.

“Stay”, you order her, forcing her limps to stay unmoving with just a look. You wrap chains around her wrists and ankles, sealing them into obedience with a mumble of the right spell.

“Let me go”, she spits, tugging and fighting the enchanted ropes fruitlessly.

You ignore her, gathering the tools from the desk.

“I learned a new spell today. It sounds promising. You’ll be my little rabbit”, you tell the vampire, “I can’t promise you that it won’t hurt though. So sorry about that”, you look at her over your shoulder, “not really though.”

“You’re a fucking psycho.”

You ignore her. You have better things to do. Such as grind up wood as finely as possible.

“Once we’re breaking out of here, you’ll regret ever keeping us captive.”

“The only way you guys are leaving this shithole is by dying.”

“She’s crazy.”

“Hush”, you warn, silencing the other vampires with just a snap of your fingers. They try and fail to make a sound, opening and closing their useless mouths, “better. Now, back to you. Sarah, am I right?”

“As if I’m going to tell you my name.”

“Fine, then you’re Sarah from now”, you decide for her, grabbing her chin, “you may wonder why you and your friends are here instead of your cells. You know, the problem is, I can’t take too many of you guys at the same time. They’ll find out otherwise.”

“Awww, are your babysitters not allowing you to play hard to get?”

“You’re impossible. Have you not realised the fucking situation yet? You are either going to leave this cell and I have my antidote or you are going to die, so shut up and listen before I decide to kill you without even trying.”

Sarah bares you her teeth, growling deeply.

“Now you see. I can’t take too many of you guys because the others will give me a lecture all about how I can’t experiment on you guys and all that good person shit”, you roll your eyes, “stupid if you ask me. You guys would never leave this cellar one way or the other. If you dry out in your cells or die because of me makes no difference. You won’t see sunlight again either way.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is you and your awful leader taking things you weren’t supposed to take.”

“I’m telling you, once Namjoon gets wind that you are keeping us here, he will come and rescue us and you will die the most painful death imaginable.”

“Good luck with that. Your great leader has been rotting in a cell for two months now. You think you have any kind of power left? Every single one of your ill-minded friends is either dead or rotting in our cells.”

“You’re lying. Superior will never die.”

“Superior died when you decided to fucking push my buttons”, you spit, pushing her head back roughly.

“What the hell did you do, witch?”

“I told you. You little rats are either captured or dead. And you guys”, you look through the room with a bright smile, “you guys are now my little rats and you will help me solve the probably most difficult riddle I have ever had to solve. How do I fucking safe him?”

“What are you talking about? You make no sense.”

“I make perfect sense. You know what doesn’t make sense? Saving your dying boyfriend by blasting light brighter than the sun out of your own fucking body and covering his entire body in a glowing layer of magic that stops the poison but also puts him into an unbreakable coma. Now that”, you laugh crazily, pointing your finger at her, “that shit doesn’t make sense. Especially when you lived twenty five fucking years of your life thinking that vampires and magic aren’t real only to find out that you are an actual fucking witch after you saved your dying vampire boyfriend through magic.”

You lower your finger.

“But did I really safe him? Mhm? Because last time I checked he isn’t fucking here with me and his lungs are still filled with this cursed goddamn wood. So in a way, all my magic didn’t do shit except pause the inevitable. I don’t even know if the magic is safe or if it will wear off sooner or later. Because I have no fucking idea what I actually did! Hah!”

You laugh loudly.

“Isn’t that hilarious? Every single day could be the day where that stupid glow stops glowing and he wakes up only to die screaming and crying black fucking blood. And that, ohohoho that”, you push her head back so hard she almost falls with the chair. You catch her, slamming your hands on the armrests, “I can’t let that happen.”

“What the hell? I have no idea what you are saying. Why are we captured then? We had nothing to do with it.”

“Now you see, that’s where you are wrong. You guys kissed Kim Namjoon’s ass and that’s enough to make me hate you. And you see”, you step closer again, towering over her with your eyes dark in anger, “Kim Namjoon is the reason why my boyfriend is in this fun, little coma. Because Kim fucking Namjoon was the one who cursed him and you little rats are going to be my ticket to saving my boyfriend.”

“You’re sick.”

“No, he’s sick! Because of your awful leader, he is sick! Holy fuck, we talked about our future the day it happened. He finally accepted that he didn’t want to die but live life with me. We wanted to be happy together. We were supposed to spend our days in peace, talk, go on adventures together and hold each other and Kim Namjoon took all of that from us”, you hiss, squeezing her cheeks so tightly that she hisses in pain, ��I have to heal him and you know damn well that I’m not going to test out the spell on him, I’m not crazy. But I have you”, you smile, “and I can test out whatever I want on you. If I fail? Hell, one less Superior poisoning the earth. If I don’t? I finally get my boyfriend back. It’s a win win, I would say. Now open up.”

“No”, she hisses, pressing her lips closed.

“Open up, fuck”, you order coldly, forcing your fingers into her mouth to break open her jaw. She fights and fights only to lose in the end.

You blow the grinded up wood at her, forcing her lungs to inhale it with a mumble of the right spell. Her eyes widen, she begins gagging and coughing instantly.

You straighten up, watching her writhe and squirm just how Yoongi did all those nights ago. The view still makes your stomach twist, not because you feel pity for the monsters you experiment on, but because it keeps the image of Yoongi fighting for his life fresh and vivid.

Black blood spills from her lips, her eyes become black from all the blood bursting her veins.

Now it is time to work. You begin chanting the words you learned today, holding the candle the spell told you to hold. It smells like rotten fish and taints your palm dark blue. If the spell is successful the candle should light up by itself and the wood should dissolve inside of her.

But none of those things happen. The candle stays unlit and the vampire screams her last death call, slacking in the chair afterwards.

“Fuck!” you scream, throwing the candle against the wall right above the heads of the other vampires.

They stare at you in horror, watching with panic as their friend is turning into dust on the chair

“Why didn’t it fucking work?!” you scream, kicking the now empty chair to the ground, “it should have worked! Fuck!”

The captured vampires cower away in fear. They want to make a sound, but can’t as their voices are still stolen.

“Argh!” you roar, whipping around with madness in your gaze, “you”, you point at the scared vampires.

You flick your wrist.

Their voices return.

“Please don’t hurt us, please”, one of them begs with tears in his eyes.

“We never liked Namjoon”, another says.

“Yeah, yeah that’s what they all say”, you dismiss them, “fuck”, you hiss, making them flinch.

You kick the chair one last time, inhaling deeply afterwards.

“Okay calm down. It’s okay. You’ll just try the next spell”, you tell yourself.

You turn to the vampires, making them cower away.

“We’ll see each other again soon. Here”, you tell them, throwing a blood bag at them, “I can’t have you drying out. You need to be at your best. Share it.”

You turn off all the torches and leave the room, locking the door with a barrier spell. So now nobody can enter or leave. You can’t have those fuckers inside escape, just as much as you can’t have the others stumbling into the room. Not yet at least. Not when you are so close to finding the antidote. You can’t risk them finding out.

You let the torches die out behind you, hurrying down the labyrinth of secret tunnels. You have them memorised these days. You can remember the first time you dared to set foot into them. How scared you were. You were a fool. The only thing which should be scared down here should be the shadows and what they hide.

You open the heavy metal gate and lock it with the black keys. Yoongi’s words are still in the back of your mind. Don’t ever touch those keys. You feel awful for having broken that promise to him, but you had to.

The estate’s cellar is too close and the others know all the rooms in it too well. You couldn’t test out the spells so close to where they could listen in. The round room was the only solution. Far enough away from the estate, soundproofed by Namjoon and with all the tools you need to keep vampires captured.

The irony of the entire situation you try to ignore. One of Kim Namjoon’s awful possessions is helping you in finding a way in healing Yoongi from the thing Namjoon is responsible for. The irony tastes bitter on your tongue, but you don’t mind anymore. All you taste these days is bitterness.

You seal the gate with a barrier spell, stuffing the keys back into your pockets afterwards.

“Let’s leave”, you murmur and in big steps, you hurry out of the cellar.

The hallways are empty, but you know that the others are home. Jungkook and Hoseok are in the gym, you know that they are because hip-hop music is echoing through the estate. You are grateful for the music. It muffles the squeaking of the cellar door and later your steps as you hurry to your wing.

Taehyung is probably painting in his wing. He’s been helpful with your search for a cure. They all were, but Taehyung helped the most. He translated Yoongi’s spell books for you and spent many restless nights with you in the library, looking for the right spells. He deserves to rest for once and do things which he enjoys doing.

Jungkook is still living in his wing, working hard on finishing the renovations between helping you with saving Yoongi. He cries a lot and there was a time where you joined him, but not anymore. You can’t waste time crying. You have to focus on saving Yoongi.

Hoseok is living in Seokjin’s apartment these days. Jungkook stays over some nights when being close to a comatose Yoongi hurts too much. Hoseok is at the estate on most days however, because he is lonely all alone in a big house.

Seokjin and Emma went back to her cottage in Gordes, hence why Hoseok is living alone. They send regular messages with updates on their life and findings about a possible cure. They’re happy, but worry a lot.

You shower in your wing that night. The water is cold at first before it warms up. You don’t really feel a difference. Well, you do, but it doesn’t really affect you anymore. Cold, warm, hot. It all feels the same to you. It’s best this way. Like this, you won’t get distracted by your mind wandering to how uncomfortable certain sensations are on your skin. You can’t get distracted like this, you have to stay focused on the task at hand.

Saving Yoongi.

This is all that matters.

You have to save Yoongi.

You leave your wing after the shower and after you put on some clothes. Normally you would have used the calm hours to check up on the greenhouse, but that seems like a waste of time these days. And it hurts. Whenever you are in the greenhouse you think about the first day you spent in it. You think about how Yoongi was the one to show it to you because he wanted to cheer you up, how he prepared breakfast for you and how utterly clumsy he was in showing his feelings. And when you don’t think about this heartbreaking memory you think about the time you and he wandered through it in his memories. You think about the flower crowns you made and how pretty he looked with his yellow sweater and lively features.

And that memory hurts just as much as the first one does.

“Oh? Hey there, ___.”

You meet Hoseok and Jungkook on the hallways. They are both shirtless and sweaty, clearly having returned from the gym.

“Hey”, you greet them.

“Did you eat already?” Hoseok asks you.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you are, I haven’t seen you eat anything today.”

“I ate. I’m fine”, you dismiss him, brushing past them afterwards.

“Hey ___!” Jungkook calls after you, “have you found anything?”

“Would I be still alone if I did?”

“No, I- no sorry, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Tch.”

You leave them in the hallways, taking the next corner. You won’t find out what they will do or where they will go and quite frankly, you don’t care. You can’t waste time spending time with them, you have to be somewhere.

The door is loud as it falls into its lock. You wonder if the others heard you, but if they did, they don’t react.

His wing is dark like always. You had no time to change the light bulbs and neither did he. Obviously, because he couldn’t enjoy being home alive and well for long.

You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, just as you don’t try to look at his untouched piano as you pass it by.

You stop.

Perhaps trying isn’t enough. At least not tonight. Not when another failure sits heavy on your shoulder.

It feels like ages ago where you tiptoed into his room and apologised to him for being a reckless idiot. You think ten months must have passed since then. Maybe even eleven. If you knew back then, you would have sat on his lap longer, you would have kissed him deeper and you wouldn’t have pushed him away. If you knew, you would have pulled him closer and let the feelings, you so clearly had for him, consume you.

“Fuck”, you press out, turning your head away for looking at the empty, dusty piano aches too much.

You force your legs to work again and continue your path. It is not far anymore.

The door opens quietly.

“Hey there, my love. I’m just here to check up on you for the night.”

The door closes quietly.

The fireplace is still burning. Good. That means that he was warm and cozy throughout the day. It is important that he stays warm these days, with the first snow so close to reach.

With your breath trembling, you hurry to the bed.

He looks just as you have left him this morning.

“How are you?”

You cup his cheek. It feels cold to the touch. His skin is still too pale.

“I guess, you are as you always are”, you lower your head, “shit.”

You step closer to the bed.

“Shit Yoongi, I don’t know for how long I can still do this. I’m trying so hard and yet nothing works. This was the fifteenth spell I tried and it still wasn’t the right one. I can’t do this anymore.”

You scoff.

“It’s awful isn’t it? Fifteen tries. Which means…which means I killed fifteen people. Well, they were Namjoon’s friends, but they were still people. Fifteen. Sixteen if we count in Suzy. Fuck.”

You scoff again.

“Do you remember how traumatised I was after I killed her? How I refused to talk for days and barely even ate? And all the nightmares plaguing me afterwards? Yeah, well”, you falter for a moment, looking at the dark sky outside, “I don’t feel anything these days, just anger and disappointment. And the only-”, your eyes burn, “-the only nightmares I have are of you screaming like that. That’s all I’m dreaming about. How, how you screamed and how I screamed and then this white light. How?”

You look at him.

“How did I do this? Why did I do this? What did I create? Are you even here with me still or did, did this spell preserve your corpse? Have I been talking to-”, you whimper, reaching for his cold cheeks, “Yoongi, please don’t be dead. You wanted to live, didn’t you? So please don’t be dead. Please”, you beg him, falling silent afterwards.

You hate how peaceful he almost looks. You changed him out of his dirty clothes, washed him and tugged him in so he could be warm. His face you cleaned as well and then you closed his eyes, so he would look as if he was simply sleeping.

And he does. He looks as if he was just sleeping.

You hate this.

“Your hair is a little messy. Don’t worry, I won’t cut it. I’ll just clean it up real quick”, you say and begin brushing your fingers through his hair. It is so soft. Even after months of lying in the same position, it is still so soft.

You hate this. His face is still pretty, his hair is still soft, his body still looks healthy. He looks fine and yet he isn’t. You hate how much of a lie his appearance is, how your spell has frozen him in a time where he was still fine and you have to look at him day by day and wonder if you will ever be able to heal him. The deep grey of his skin looks like silver to you these days. The others don’t believe you when you tell them, but it is silver. Just like it is when moonlight shines upon him. It is silver. Not grey. He is still fine.

“There you go”, you press out painfully, caressing his cheek, “now you’re looking handsome again.”

You step back. You should leave him to rest for tonight and return to your research. You know what you should do and yet you can’t. Not tonight you can’t. Not tonight.

“Yoongi, I don’t know what to do”, your voice quivered as you spoke, “I need you. You always knew what to say or what to do. I mean, I’m a fucking witch.”

You laugh painfully, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“I’m an actual witch. I, I can make stuff fly or appear and with, with just a thought I could give you guys the worst headache imaginable. But, but…but I don’t know what to do”, you press out and sob, “Yoongi, I need your advice. I don’t know how to be a witch. None of the others know what to do, because they were never witches in the first place. They try to help, but can’t. I need you. You could teach me so much. I mean, you were a bloody warlock once and now…” you sob softly, intertwining your fingers with him, “...please come back, Yoongi.”

You rest your cheek on his hand, soiling his skin with your tears.

“I’m so scared. What if I’ll never find a cure?”

You sink in on yourself, resting your cheek on his chest. It is unmoving, just as the rest of his body.

“I know now how you felt when you couldn’t capture Namjoon. I’m failing you so much”, you press out, hiding your face in his chest, “you have done so much for me and I can’t even do one thing for you. I just want to heal you, but I can’t. Why can’t I? Why?!”

You halt.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t yell. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry”, you choke out and truly break.

You were so sure that you couldn’t cry anymore. Not anymore and not these days. Not when you spilled so many tears already and you still have a cure to find. But you were wrong. Just as you were wrong about those fifteen spells. As always lately, you were wrong.

“Yoongi, please come back to me”, you beg.

You fall asleep in his bed that night. You pass out after too many spilled tears and too many sleepless nights. And as you fall into unconsciousness, you hold him, not letting go once.

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hoppipolla · 8 months

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The basement scenes in Beyond Evil

Some quotes are from the Beyond Evil scriptbook translated by @/yeoyuo on Twitter. (link to the scriptbook in the comment section) The setting in Beyond Evil is always both significant and relevant: the reed field, Lee Dong Shik’s basement, Jae Yi’s butcher shop, the archives room, the Japanese restaurant, etc. These different places are highly symbolic — some more than others — and are essential to understand everything that is at stakes.

With this post, I want to give you my analysis of Lee Dong Shik’s basement.

The basement scenes are key moments of the drama for they mark crucial shifts, both in HJW and LDS’ relationship and in the plot itself.

The native title of Beyond Evil translates to Monster in Korean (괴물). The very definition of ‘monster’ is quite complex and even its etymology hints at the many roles monsters can play in our society (and in History more generally).

'Monster' probably derives from the Latin, monstrare, meaning 'to demonstrate', and monere, 'to warn'. Monsters, in essence, are demonstrative. They reveal, portend, show and make evident, often uncomfortably so. (source in comments) This last sentence encapsulates perfectly how Lee Dong Shik is seen by others; Han Joo Won acts as a reminder of such perception when he first arrives in Manyang and is convinced that LDS is the killer they’re looking for. Indeed, Lee Dong Shik is presented as someone demonstrative, whose agonising pain and temper earned him the nickname ‘nut job’ and the stares and distrust of most people in Manyang.

Lee Dong Shik is said to be a monster because he was the prime suspect of a murder he did not commit. Because he became a person so visibly drenched in his own pain that it became difficult to look him in the eye. He then depicts himself as a monster — by interfering in Min Jung’s case — to make sure HJW will play his game and take the bait, because he desperately needs HJW to “bite him”. Because he needs his help to catch Jin Mook and to find the missing bodies. Because if everyone keeps being blinded by LDS’ seemingly craziness, then Han Joo Won needs to be the one to see beyond. He needs to see the bigger picture.

The basement scenes play a huge part in making HJW see the bigger picture because so many elements of truth are revealed in LDS’ basement which makes me think… what if LDS’ basement was a means to rewrite Plato’s cave but in a more paradoxical way? Let me explain.

The basement is a place of confrontation and its dimly lit interior makes it resemble a cave, somewhere underground with no real light. HJW and LDS discuss and make hypotheses in this place, so often that LDS even jokingly suggests that HJW should pay rent at this point since he’s always in LDS’ basement.

What makes it a paradoxical rewriting of Plato’s cave is the fact that the truth is, in fact, found in LDS’ basement, on multiple occasions. However, in Plato’s cave, the cave is the place the philosopher needs to escape from to confront the real light, the sun’s light — i.e the truth — to eventually access the world of Ideas.

In Plato’s myth, the cave is a place in which chained prisoners stare at inverted shadows projected by the fire burning inside the cave and they take these shadows for reality. The fire in the cave represents the notion of culture which is to say, constructed beliefs (this is overly simplified but it’s just to give you an understanding). The people in Manyang are like those prisoners in the cave who are convinced that those shadows are what the real world looks like: they are convinced Lee Dong Shik is the cause of Manyang’s tragedy and doom despite the fact that many cases that took place in Manyang were dropped. The Manyang people believe in the evidence that is the guitar pick as fervently as the prisoners believe the shadows are the only reality that exists. Despite it not being enough to indict Lee Dong Shik, it still made him look like the killer for twenty-one years, to them at least.

Just like the philosopher who decided to climb up and face the burning sun to get to the Truth, Lee Dong Shik is the one who sacrificed himself and ruined his life so that the truth could be established.

To come back to what makes this rewriting paradoxical, here are some truths that were discovered in LDS’ basement:

The posters of the missing people + the files of both Yu Yeon’s and Ju Seon’s cases (before LDS put them back into the archives room) → These enable LDS to carry out his own investigation.

Min Jung’s fingers → LDS brings them to his basement before figuring out what to do with them.

Lee Geum Hwa → LDS figures out the name of the victim of HJW’s sting operation during one of his confrontations with him which took place in his basement.

Yu Yeon’s body → LDS finds the body of his sister inside a wall in his basement.

Jung Je’s memories → Again, Jung Je’s memories come back to him during a heated conversation with LDS in his basement.

However, LDS has to go up into the light, he has to leave the basement and his house to make the truth known. It is within hell that the truth emerges, but it is under the sun’s light that the truth needs to be revealed.

Thus it’s interesting to note that the big reveal — i.e the rain scene in ep 15 when HJW makes LDS listen to his audio recording — doesn’t take place in LDS’ basement but in his yard (outside and not underground). This emphasises the idea that, just like the bodies in Manyang, the truth needs to be dug out.

Just like Lee Dong Shik and the philosopher before him, HJW became the one willing to sacrifice himself so that everyone could know who the real killer was: “I’ll be a monster, take Han Ki Hwan with me, and dive into hell when he’s reached the peak.”.

#this sounded better in my head but I'm tired of rewriting it ><#I'm aware I oversimplified Plato's cave but I hope I got my point across #beyond evil #jtbc beyond evil #lee dongsik #han juwon #*enjoy my nonsense #*beyond evil analysis #my post won't show up in the tags because of the links so I'll add them in the comments

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