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#re those things. but it's like.. if you are OBVIOUSLY  setting out to write that one VERY specific archetype within the broader archetype
yesitsmewhataboutit · 3 months
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Assistance
Alpha!Todoroki x Omega!Reader
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
➤ Alpha’s are so stubborn when they’re hurt. And this one is being exceptionally more stubborn then usual
Warnings⚠️: rut mention
»»——⍟——««A/n: yall know me i love omegaverse but like 🥲i just hope my writing is still good
Omegaverse Key
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̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open  ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶
"Shoto, stop fighting me." He doesn't answer, continuing to squirm. "Shoto, stop." He pulls his hand from yours, squirming more. "Shoto."
Your alpha has always been a baby when it comes to getting hurt and someone needing to take care of him. This time, after a nasty battle with the latest villain all the pro heroes are trying to take down, he's left with a broken arm, broken ribs, and a fresh new cut across his chest.
The doctor ordered him bedrest be the requirement for him to return home, which he insisted on, and you promised you'd be there to take care of him. The only problem is Shoto insists on not wanting your help, being the stubborn alpha.
"Shoto. Shoto, let me change your bandge." You reach out and try again to wrap the bandage around his ribs. It's the last thing you need to do. It took you about thirty minutes to change his arm cast and fifteen to get him to swallow his pills. "Shoto," you sigh, feeling him move out of your reach again.
You sigh from frustration and sit back, crossing your arms. "Shoto, why are you being so stubborn? I'm trying to help you."
"I don't need your help," the first words he uttered since the whole ordeal started.
"Oh?" you shrug, "ok." You get up from your spot, kneeling on the bed, setting the bandage wrap on the edge, out of Shoto's reach. "Alright then, come get the bandage and re-wrap yourself," you say, crossing your arms and looking at him.
Shoto's head turns, looking at it, and then turns back. "Don't need it."
You roll your eyes, turning around. "You have actually got to be kidding me. Shoto, come on. Stop being so difficult. Just accept my help. It's not the end of the world." It's silent for a few more seconds. "For someone so hurt, you sure are moving around a lot to avoid my help."
"I wanna go in my den."
You sigh again, your head hanging low. "You cannot be serious." You get up and walk to the door. "I am going to go make dinner. And when I come back, we are going to eat, but before that, you are going to stop fighting me so I can change your bandages. Because I swear to god, Shoto, if I have to call the doctor and order a sedation drug, I will."
You walk into the kitchen, taking a breath and trying to calm down. You decide to make some quick cold soba, hoping maybe that'll be a good bribe toward him; maybe getting him to corporate. It doesn't take long, and sooner enough, you're walking back toward the bedroom again.
"Alright," you begin, setting the bowl on the nightstand and sitting next to him. "I need you to eat, and I need you to let me change your bandages otherwise I can't take you to your den Shoto. I need you to work with me."
The other reason you're so bent on getting his bandages changed and in a comfortable spot is cause his rut is due to hit soon. You can smell it, his scent stronger, and obviously his attitude is declining, but the doctor specifically told you he can't do any of those activities, not while he's still recovering.
You decide to take another approach. "Please, alpha? I need you to let me take care of you." He sighs, and you can tell if you want to do anything, this's your opportunity. You grab the bandages, start the process, and do it quickly but carefully, and finally, his bandages are changed, and you can relax. "Ya know, if I ever get hurt like this, I hope you realize I'm getting you back good."
Your clarity only lasts a few minutes, those minutes ending when a strong, musky scent bleeds through the air. His rut.
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daisynik7 · 8 months
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Iris
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And I don't want the world to see me, ‘cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.
Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader
Rating: Mature – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~4.5k (I went way over than I was supposed to, lol)
cw: switching POVs (2nd person reader, 3rd person Eren), canon-universe, VERY canon-divergent, consider this a what-if scenario, major AOT spoilers up to season 4, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), fingering 
Summary: At the Battle of Fort Slava, Eren Jaeger, hell-bent on launching his ultimate attack on Marley, injures himself to pose as a wounded soldier, granting him admittance to the hospital to finalize his plans. You, an Eldian volunteer working at the hospital, start treating this new patient, nervous about his mysterious demeanor. Eventually, you learn that you have much more in common with each other than you think. 
Author’s Note: Thank you @ichinosejager13 for your second request for the y2k karaoke party! I did something totally different this time; I wrote a fic set in the canon universe. I thought it fit well with this song, so I hope you like it! While it’s set in the canon universe, it is very obviously canon divergent, so please remember I took a lot of liberties with this. I am in no way suggesting that any of this is what I wish happened in canon. I just think it was an interesting idea to write. Also, I understand that this will seem very out-of-character for Eren, but let’s just roll with it because it's all in good fun, lol. 
Like, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.
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Fort Slava, huddled in the trenches. Blade through his leg, bullet in his eye. This is the last vivid memory Eren can recall as he stands in line outside the hospital, waiting to be admitted. Some asshole Marleyan imitates explosion sounds, causing all of those around him to fall to the ground, cowering in fear. They suffer trauma from the battlefield, and even Eren, with a clear conscious now, is affected by it. A kid, another Eldian dawning the same yellow armband as he is, steps towards them, kneeling down to help them up. He even assists Eren, correcting his armband to his left arm instead of the right. Luckily, it goes unnoticed by everyone else, which is exactly what he wants. 
It's all part of his plan; the attack on Marley. It’s been in the works for months now, starting with his infiltration of the army, fighting alongside Marleyans and Eldians alike. He thought he’d have better clarity of the situation, maybe get convinced to call the whole thing off after bonding with other solders through the tragedies of violence and war. Unfortunately, it’s only made him realize how much more he needs to follow through with it. Nothing will ever change in this cruel world unless he’s the one to do it. 
There are days when he gets cold feet. He’s tempted to re-evaluate, find a way back to his home of Paradis, reunite with his friends, devise a better plan and figure it out together. But in all the futures Eren can see, his current plan is the only one that will work. The only one that will grant him the freedom he’s been chasing his entire life.  
The process is slow to get a room in the hospital. Luck remains on Eren’s side when he’s assigned a private room. It’s barren; a single-bed, just long enough to accommodate his stature, withered sheets and rusted iron on the frame. There’s a small nightstand beside it with two drawers to hide his belongings, which is essentially nothing, and atop is a small lamp, illuminating the room in a dreary glow. It’s not luxurious, but it’s enough for the time-being. Because that’s all Eren needs right now: time. 
Eventually, Zeke will find him. They’ve been contacting each other for a while now, and Eren has a firm grasp on what his older brother is trying to convince him to do with the Founder’s power. While he doesn’t agree with his idea to euthanize the entire race of Eldians, Eren needs to entertain it long enough to manipulate Zeke into letting him use his royal blood. 
It's all convoluted and fucked up, he’s aware of that. Somedays, he wishes he could escape this curse without doing anything at all. That one day, he’d be gone from this world, liberated from his Titan power, saved from this burdened life. This isn’t what he imagined while reading all those books he and Armin would marvel at as kids. This isn’t the freedom he was hoping for. 
He rests in his pathetic, yet oddly comforting bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. His leg and eye are still wrapped in bandages, so a nurse should be coming soon to check on him. There’s a faint commotion out in the hallway, but Eren is too lazy and too uninterested to investigate. Soon, it subsides, and the door swings open, revealing a women around his age, wearing a nurses uniform and the yellow Eldian patch on her left arm. He recognizes the attire from battle; the army had a few nurses stationed at the fort for casualties. 
“Mr. Kruger?” she asks. 
It takes him a second to remember the alias he decided to use. He confirms it, nodding his head silently. 
She gives him a warm smile, introducing herself. “I’ll be helping you from now on.”
~~~
You started working at the hospital a few months ago. For Eldians, it’s nearly impossible to be accepted into higher education, so nursing school was never an option. With opportunities so scarce, your best bet was to apply for a volunteer position at the hospital in hopes of using that as a steppingstone for an actual paying job. You don’t expect a promotion any time soon, not even in the near future, but at least you’re spending your time helping others.
While it’s rewarding, it isn’t glamorous or pretty in the slightest bit. Because you lack the proper education, your tasks mostly include bathing, feeding, cleaning up any accidents or messes. Occasionally, if your patient is open to it, you spend time with them chatting, doing activities with them, listening to their stories. This is rare, though. Most that are admitted are Marleyans who refuse to speak to you because of your status. Some are even reluctant to have you help them in the first place. The Eldians, sadly, are usually too traumatized to open up, so you do your best to make them comfortable however you can. 
When you meet your newest patient, Eren Kruger, you don’t expect him to be any different from the rest. You are, however, surprised at how young he is; he can’t be any older than you, judging by his appearance. His records show nothing except for his name and his status as an Eldian, which isn’t unusual, so you don’t think much of it. “Mr. Kruger, I know you must be hungry,” you start. “Lunch will be arriving soon. If you need assistance, I’ll be here to help you.”
He acknowledges you with another curt nod, remaining silent. You can’t help but notice how brilliantly green his eyes are. Have you ever seen irises like his before? You let the inappropriate thought vanish quickly before you ask, “Would you like me to bathe you now or after you eat?”
At this, his brows tighten. “Bathe?” 
“Yes, Mr. Kruger. We can bathe you before or after lunch, it’s up to you – ”
“I don’t want to bathe,” he says, avoiding your gaze. 
You blink at him, unsure how to respond. “Surely you must want to be clean – ”
He interrupts you again, muttering, “How can I, when I’m like this?”
You understand his hesitation now, not needing further explanation. Sometimes, patients with missing limbs have expressed concern submerging themselves in a tub full of water, not wanting to get their bandages wet. Quickly, you clarify, “It would be a sponge bath. We can do that while you’re lying in bed, actually. And your bandages will stay intact.”
This seems to be the answer he’s looking for. His expression relaxes when he says, “After. I want to do it after I eat.”
You smile softly at him, noting it on your checkboard. “Understand. I’ll go check on your meal now. Is there anything else you need from me?”
A beat passes before he replies, “Pen and paper. For letters.”
You write it, reminding yourself to bring it when you return with his meal. “Got it.”
A few minutes later, you return with a tray of food along with a wad of paper and two pens. You set it on his nightstand beside him, waiting for him to move it. When he doesn’t, staying still, staring blankly at the foot of the bed, you clear your throat. “Mr. Kruger?”
“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs. 
“But you haven’t eaten all day. You need nourishment if you’re going to get any better.”
“And who says I want to get better?” He glares at you, startled by the intensity in his gaze. 
You swallow hard, nervous, but still resilient. “You have to eat. You owe it to yourself after what you’ve been through.”
“And how would you know what I’ve been through?” His voice is steady, a hint of venom, barely enough to sting. But you’re determined. You sit at the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. Reaching for the tray, you set it down on your lap, sighing. “I don’t know. I have no idea what war is like out there. All I know is that it’s not great for us here. At least out there, you’re fighting together as a unit. Marleyan, Eldian, it doesn’t matter. You’re working to defeat our enemy. And who knows? If we ever win the war, maybe life will be better for us here.” You shove the tray towards him, glaring back at him. “So the least you could do is try to see it through and survive, right?”
He studies you carefully, contemplating how to respond. Glancing at the tray in front of him, he smirks, scooping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. You ease up, tension releasing from your shoulders. 
After a few more bites, he speaks. “Who do you think the enemy is?” 
Just when you thought you were in the clear, he asks you another question. “It was the Mid-East Allies. That’s who you fought at Fort Slava.” 
“But who do you think the real enemy is?” He’s finished with his potatoes, now moving on to his meatloaf. 
“Well, I suppose it’s whoever the government says it is.” You’re unsure what kind of answer he’s searching for.
“And if they say that we’re the enemy, then what?” He points between you, leaving you confused. 
“We…?”
“Eldians. Devils.”
“No, no. The Devils are on the island. We’re…we’re not like them.”
“Are you sure?” He stuffs the rest of the meat into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it all down. “What makes you think you’re any better here than you are there?”
Your face feels hot now, and you start to stammer. “Because…because that’s what we were told. We’re on the right side. They’re on the wrong.” 
His plate is nearly clean now. He slides his fingers on the remnants, licking it off before chugging half a glass of water. “What if I told you there’s a place for people like us? A place where you wouldn’t have to walk around with an armband. A place where you were treated fairly. Would you want to go to a place like that?” 
You feel yourself drawn in by his words. The idea of it sounds impossible. Ever since you were born, you were taught to know your place in this world. That place was here in Marley, destined to be a second-class citizen. You were told that the island across the sea was full of devils like you, but because you’re here, you’re better. You can’t deny that you’ve been curious what life is like out there. All this time, you thought it must be worst, secluded on an island, hated by the rest of the world. 
But is this life any better? Secluded in your own community and still hated by the rest of the world?
You pick the tray up from his lap, muttering, “I’ll go get your sponge bath ready.”
He doesn’t add anything else, watching you silently. You walk towards the door, ready to leave. Before you do, you say, “And to answer your question: I would.”
~~~
It was supposed to be innocent banter, that’s what Eren intended. He figured he could chalk it up to the trauma speaking for him, that she wouldn’t even be remotely interested in what he had to say. He thought she’d be like all the other naïve, brainwashed Eldians, ignorantly believing everything that was told to them. He realizes soon enough that he was wrong to underestimate her.
She comes to him every day, fulfilling her volunteer duties. Their daily routine begins with breakfast, then a morning stroll in his wheelchair out in the courtyard. Sometimes they’ll play chess at one of the tables, sometimes it’s checkers. Lunchtime comes, and then it’s time for a bath, one of Eren’s favorite parts of the day. Her hands are always gentle, gliding along his skin with a damp sponge. They’ll do another stroll outside, this time on his crutches, where he practices how to walk. Dinner arrives when it’s already dark out, and occasionally, he’ll ask her to read the latest news from the paper. 
While all this happens, they talk. They talk a lot. 
As expected, she figures out that Eren is from Paradis, though he bends the truth about his true intentions for being here. She doesn’t know about his Titan powers, thinking he’s a refugee seeking sanctuary here. Surprisingly, she isn’t offended about it; in fact, she’s curious. They spend most of their time together sharing stories of their childhood. Eren describes life in Paradis, she describes life in Marley. While there are stark differences between their upbringings, there are also blatant similarities. And together, they come to the gut-wrenching conclusion: Eldians are terrorized wherever they are, whether it’s here, or across the sea. 
Eren has only sent one letter in the past two weeks, and that was to his friends back home, informing them that he is in Marley, safe and sound. He doesn’t disclose his plan to them yet. In all honestly, he’s not sure what the plan is anymore. Zeke still hasn’t found him, nor has Eren gone out of his way to be found. What Eren does know is that he enjoys spending time with the woman who helps him. So much that he’s losing grip on what he’s supposed to be doing here. He has to do something soon.
It comes to a head one night, three weeks after he was admitted to the hospital. Eren requests for another sponge bath after dinner; it was a hot day and he worked up a sweat during their afternoon walk. She helps him strip his shirt off, starting with the wet, warm sponge at his chest, massaging small circles onto his sticky skin. He watches her carefully, noticing her eyes lingering on his body more so than usual. 
He speaks softly into her ear, leaning in close. “I have something to tell you.”
She continues above his waist, hands gently scrubbing, not bothering to look at him when she responds. “What is it, Eren?”
He’s thought about this all day. The plan. “Would you like to visit Paradis?”
This time, she does look at him, confused. “What?”
Louder now, and more confident, he says, “Come to Paradis with me. See what it’s like there.”
She scoffs. “I can’t just leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is my home.”
“They treat you like nothing here,” he argues. “At Paradis, you’re somebody. We can be safe at Paradis.”
She stops, tossing the sponge into the bucket of water beside her, frustrated. “Safe? After everything you’ve told me? You said it yourself; you’ve been terrorized by Titans since you were a kid. Every nation in the world wants Paradis gone. How can it be safe?”
He swallows thickly, gripping her hand delicately in his. “I can’t explain everything right now, but I have a plan. We have a plan.” He recalls one of the last memories he has of Armin, his brilliant friend, suggesting a small-scale Rumbling, enough to scare the rest of the world from attacking Paradis for centuries. He dismissed it quickly then, but now, he considers it. Could this be their best option? Instead of the billions of casualties Eren had originally devised? “You just have to trust me for now. Once we’re there, I can explain everything.”
She stares at him, clearly in shock from his suggestion. He doesn’t blame her. Eren is asking her to give up everything she knows. 
“Eren,” she starts, squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can do that.” 
He smiles at her, brushing his thumb across her knuckles delicately. “I understand. I know it’s a big ask, and I shouldn’t have expected you to say yes. I just…I just think I know what I can do for Paradis to make it safe for people like us. Somewhere we can be ourselves, where people will know us for who we are, and not for what they see on our armbands.”
“It sounds like paradise,” she says quietly.
“It does. And I think I could make it that way. I know I can.”
She sighs, retrieving the sponge again. “I want to believe you, Eren. But I don’t think I can throw away my life for something I’m unsure of.” She starts to slide his pants off, ready to wash below his waist.
“Please, just consider it. I plan to leave soon, within the next few days. I just have to send out a letter tomorrow, and I should be ready to go.”
“You’re leaving? Already?”
“I know what I have to do now. I can’t waste any more time when we can end this war now.”
She peers at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I…” 
“What is it?” He sits up, leaning in close to cup her cheek, brushing away her falling tears. 
“Will we ever see each other again?” Her voice is trembling, lips quivering. His heart sinks into his stomach, seeing her like this.
He presses his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you when this is all over. I promise you. Whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near the shore, okay?” The small-scale Rumbling should only affect the fleets, which will be in the middle of the ocean, far from the shore. Still, he can’t risk anything happening to her. Not when he isn’t there to protect her.
She nods, not asking for any further explanation. He presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to bring us peace.” 
~~~
Eren asks you to drop off a letter in the mailbox, addressed to someone named Azumabito. Apparently, she is an ally to Eldians who is stationed here in Marley, so she can arrange a ship for him to head back home. 
There are still so many questions left unanswered, though you decide not to ask them. Maybe it’s foolish to trust someone you’ve only known for a month. But Eren has given you more truth about this harsh world that anyone else the entire time you’ve been here. And he’s the only one who’s ever promised you a better life. 
Two days after you mailed the letters, you receive a response. It’s addressed to you, though you’re sure it’s meant for Eren. There’s a fancy insignia stamped to one corner of the envelope: a circle with a triangle in the center, formed by samurai swords. You keep it safe in your pocket as you head for the kitchen, ready to deliver Eren’s dinner. 
He reads it when he’s finished with his meal. You watch as he scans the letter carefully, mouthing a few words under his breath. When he reaches the end, he looks up at you, a small grin on his face. “She’s arranged a ship for tomorrow morning, before sunrise.”
You gasp, surprised at how soon his departure is. “Tomorrow?”
He nods, folding the letter and tucking it beneath his pillow. 
You let out a deep breath, unsure what else to say. Noticing your quiet demeanor, he reaches for your hand to hold it. “I know this is happening so fast. But I’ve never been more certain about what I need to do until now.” He interlocks his fingers with yours, smiling. “And you helped me with that.”
“Me? How?”
“By being you. By giving me a chance to explain myself. Even when you found out I was from Paradis, you didn’t judge me. You got to know me. It showed me that there are people, good people, on this side. That even in a ruthless place like this, there is beauty to be saved.” 
You don’t say anything, throat too heavy with emotion to respond. Blinking away your tears, you take his tray from his lap, walking quickly to the door. Before you can leave, he asks, “Can you please come back to help me shave?”
Without turning to face him, you nod, exiting his room, stifling your sobs on your way down the hallway. Your heart yearns for more time with him. For the past few weeks, being here has been an escape from your painful reality. You’re not seen as an Eldian, you aren’t considered a second-class citizen. With him, you’re just you. 
You know that you can’t keep him caged here forever. Like a bird, he’s ready to spread his wings. He’s ready to be free. While you’re heartbroken to see him leave, you’re thrilled for him to fulfill his destiny. All you can hope is that one day, you’ll be reunited in a better place than here. 
You return to his room a couple of minutes later with everything you need to give him a close shave. His facial hair has grown out quite a bit since he arrived. You lather his face with a small amount of soap, scrubbing the suds off with a warm, wet towel. He closes his eyes, indulging in your relaxing touch. After mindful preparation, you begin to shave his goatee with a straight razor, pulling his skin taut, gliding the blade carefully across his chin, cleaning it after every stroke. When you’re done with his beard, you focus your attention on his mustache, delicately moving the razor until his skin is smooth and shaven. You smile as you wipe off any remaining residue with the towel. 
With everything discarded into the bucket of water set on the nightstand, you take this time to admire his face, memorizing every detail. The flutter of his lashes, the bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline, the plush of his lips. It’s only now that you realize how close to him you are. You’re kneeling beside him on the bed, noses almost touching, your fingers grazing his smooth skin. He opens his eyes to look at you, and his breath hitches at the intimacy, glancing at your mouth. 
Before you can move, he closes the short distance, kissing you on the lips. As quickly as it happens, he pulls away, blushing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked first. I’m sorry – ”
You cut him off with another kiss, hungry for more. It’s his last day; in mere hours from now, he’ll be gone, and you’re not sure when you’ll see him again, if ever. It’s crossed your mind many times by now, how it would feel to be with him like this. The feeling of his lips on yours, the slide of his tongue in your mouth, the taste of his spit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’ve never thought about it. In fact, it’s been on your mind every night as you fall asleep, wishing you were in his arms instead of alone in your bed. 
He doesn’t pull away this time, sinking in deeper, slipping inside your mouth to swirl his tongue with yours. He’s just as sweet as you fantasized he’d be, luscious and rich in your mouth. His skin is smooth against your fingertips, tracing his jawline. One hand slides around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the other wraps around the nape of your neck, holding your head steady. You swing one leg over him, straddling his lap, hoisting the hem of your dress past your hips, revealing your panties. He moans, shifting beneath you in the bed to slip his trousers down, displaying his erection bulging in his underwear.
“Is this okay?” he huffs, catching his breath. His voice wavers, his only visible eye half-lidded with arousal, unable to keep his cool.
“Yes,” you answer, grinding yourself on him, kissing him sloppily. His grip is on your hips, guiding you to rut against his cock faster. The friction between you is enough to make you wet, your slick soaking through the fabric. 
“You’re an angel,” he whispers, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to make you feel good.” His thumb teases the elastic of your waistband, hand slipping inside to rub your clit against his fingers. 
“Eren,” you moan, his sensual touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He slowly slides two digits inside you, massaging your bud with his palm while he pumps his fingers into your sopping cunt. His cock is stiff beneath you, watching you ride his hand, cursing under his breath until you reach your climax, coating him in your arousal. 
You’re breathing heavily, in a daze from your orgasm. He removes his hand from you, slipping it past his underwear to jerk his cock. You reach for him, tugging his bottoms down his legs, replacing his fist with yours, stroking him eagerly. He whispers your name, bucking his hips in tandem with your movements. You’re aching for more, desperate to feel him inside you, feel him deeper. You position yourself correctly, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side to  tease the head of his cock up and down your folds. He sits up on his elbows, watching you with a nervous expression on his face. “Are you sure?” he asks.
You nod, smiling at him. “I’m sure. I want to be close to you, Eren.”
He swears, letting his head fall back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. You sink down on him, his dick stretching you out smoothly, still sleek from your previous orgasm. He moans, craning his neck to take in the lewd sight before him. “Oh my god,” he groans, thrusting his hips into you. 
You ride him slowly, his entire length filling you up to the brim. He plants his feet into the mattress to fuck you deeper, the metal frame creaking with every thrust. It doesn’t take long until you’re both coming together. He shoots his load inside you while you gush all over him, creating a wet mess between you that you couldn’t care less about in the euphoric state you’re in. You lift off him, rolling to his side, relaxing into the pillow with him beside you, cradling you in his arms. He gives you a smooch on the cheek, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I meant what I said earlier.”
“What?”
“You really are an angel,” he says, smiling at you.
~~~
Eren wakes up alone, and he’s almost convinced that it was all a dream until he spots the small note scribbled on paper laying his nightstand. 
It’s too hard to say goodbye, so I won’t. I trust you to keep your promise. We’ll see each other again soon.
With daybreak approaching, Eren leaves for the docks quickly with only the clothes on his back and letters in his pocket, including hers. With sunrise teasing the horizon, he makes it to the meeting place just in time. He recognizes Azumabito and greets her, explaining the situation as they board the ship. She informs him that they are waiting for several other passengers, so he makes himself comfortable by a window.  
A few minutes pass and one of the crew approaches him. “Mr. Jaeger, there is a woman trying to board, claiming they are with you. Do you know anything about this?”
He glances out the window towards the docks and to his shock, he sees an angel with a suitcase in hand, talking to Azumabito. His heart races, overjoyed as he jumps out of his seat, sprinting out of the ship to meet her. 
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talaok · 2 years
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Long overdue
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Summary: You're famous and a part of the stranger things cast.You joined the show this season together with Joseph, whom you have a huge crush on, and even though you always thought he didn't like you that way, turns out, you might have been wrong all along...
Warnings: Smut: oral sex(female receiving), unprotected sex
Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader
Don't judge me for this one ok? It was 2 am and I kept seeing tiktoks of his interviews and I just HAD to write about  it, but I repeat it was 2 am so it's not my best work
"We're interviewing the cast of stranger things and here with us, we have Joe Keery, Maya Hawke, Joseph Quinn, and Y/N Y/LN!" the interviewer said enthusiastically, making you cringe a bit. You tough you would have gotten used by now to all of Hollywood's exuberance, but apparently, you hadn't. You were sitting in two rows, Maya and Keery were in front of you and Joe. You gave your best smile to the journalist as she began with the questions. "So, first of all, I wanna congratulate you on this new amazing season, I have watched the first two episodes at the premiere and I can't wait to see the rest!" She said, with a big smile. You laughed softly as Joe and Maya politely thanked her. "ok, now that we've gotten that out of the way let's start with the questions," she said, looking down at a card she had in her hand where the questions were probably written. "Ok so, the first one is for the newest cast members, of course. Y/N and Joseph How was it? Getting the part, entering such a huge production and working with all of these people?" the interviewer asked You cleared your throat, this was about the hundredth time you had gotten this question and you were really starting to hate it. "Wow" you chuckled "Those are a lot of questions.No but yea, I mean, When I got the part I was obviously very happy, and I was so in shock that I didn't believe it at first, and then when I had to go on set for the first time I was really scared because, you know, everyone knew each other and they were all friends and I was kind of the new kid in school, but everyone was really friendly and we all became friends really quickly. So yeah, getting to be a part of this is really amazing, and.." you were starting to run out of things to say "and I'm really grateful for it" You ended with a smile, turning to Joseph to silently ask for help. You always hated the awkward moment after you had answered a question and everyone was silent, but thankfully Joe looked at you briefly and realized you wanted him to speak and did as he was requested. "It was the same for me, at first I didn't know anyone, so it was scary but then we all started to bond and it was really nice," he said, his accent making you smile internally. You turned to him as he was finished and smiled, thanking him for helping you out, he smile back, his eyes glancing for a second too long at your lips. The next two questions were for your other castmates, so you could relax. You loved your job, you really did, but when you had first gotten into this industry you naively thought that it was just about learning your lines and acting in front of a camera, unfortunately, though, you had quickly realized that you hadn't taken into account all of the rest, all of the press tours, interviews, paparazzi and people asking for your autograph. It wasn't that you hated it per se it's just that you felt anxious all of the time, especially during interviews. You had told that to Joseph the night before the press tour started. You were at the hotel bar, having a drink before going to bed and you had told him about how you still felt panicked every time someone asked you something and he had offered to help, and for now, he had maintained his promise "So, Y/N" you had zoned out and the interviewer's shrill voice startled you. Joe noticed and chuckled softly. You subtly sent him a threatening look. "Who was the funniest person on set?"  the woman asked "Uhh, well, I have to say that everyone is really funny. Like, I always have a great time shooting with all of them, but if I really have to choose" You paused a moment, pretending to be thinking. You already knew the answer, but you had learned that when responding to questions like these you always had to be very gentle about it "I have to say Joseph. We just had a lot of scenes together and we had so much fun on set" you said truthfully, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at you and licked his lips before grinning. You felt butterflies. Fuck, how was he so hot without even trying? You would have been lying if you said that you didn't have a crush on him. You hated yourself for it, but it was the truth. You had liked him from the first moment that you had met him. He was just so incredibly nice and funny and you fell for him almost immediately. At first, it was just a stupid little crush, but as time went by and you started to spend more and more time together even outside of work you became utterly infatuated. Every time he smiled at you or touched you, even in the slightest you would melt and need a second to recover. You seriously doubted that he didn't realize the effect he had on you, I mean, how could he be so blind? You literally blushed at everything he said, but even if he did he had never done anything about it, and neither had you to be fair. There had been times when you felt like something would have happened if it wasn't for the fact that you always got interrupted. There was the time in his trailer when you were practicing a scene and he got so close to you you could feel his lips almost touching yours and you swore he was about to lean closer when Finn came in. There was the time when you had fallen asleep on his shoulder during a break in between scenes and as you woke up you saw him staring at you. There was the time at the bar. You had finished filming late and went there with the rest of the cast to blow off some steam, you both had a few drinks and after a while, you went out to smoke a cigarette and he followed you. As you talked the alcohol must have had his effect because you remember telling him that there was a girl at the bar that was obviously flirting with him and that he should have flirted back and him saying " I enjoy flirting with you much more" with a low tone while he looked at you straight in the eyes and reached out his hand to stroke your cheek, making you blush and leaving you speechless. But even that time nothing happened because Natalia and Charlie decided to come out of the bar that same second and just like that, the moment was gone. Since filming finished you hadn't seen each other very often and you thought that was a good thing. Getting your mind off of him for a while would definitely do you some good, and it did, it did until you saw him again, until the press tour started, and since you are the two new characters and everyone says they "like your chemistry together" you are stuck with him every day, all day, which would be a good thing if it wasn't that he was just so damn distracting. Maya was talking and absentmindedly you started bouncing your leg up and down. You always did it when you were nervous but your agent always told you not to do it during interviews, because it made you look anxious, which you were, but the public didn't need to know that. You were staring at your hands when you felt a hand on your thigh. A shiver went through your whole body as you realized it was Joseph's hand. You swallowed nervously and looked up at him. he looked at you reassuringly and then at your leg, making you understand to stop bouncing your leg. A soft "oh" escaped your mouth before you smiled at him gratefully and stopped the movement. You went back to listening to the journalist but, to your surprise, he didn't move his hand, making it hard for you to focus. He must have known what he was doing because for the rest of the interview he had a smug look on his face, while you were trying your best to keep your breathing normal as he started to draw patterns on your thigh with his thumb. Having Maya and Keery in front of you, thankfully the camera and the journalist couldn't see what he was doing, but they could definitely see your face turning red.
"All right, thanks guys, and congrats on the new season" The interview was finally over and you hadn't listened to a second of it. You all thanked the journalist and shacked her hand. Joe did the same, having to reluctantly remove his hand from your leg, finally rendering you able to breathe normally again. There were way too many thoughts going through your head and you needed to calm down, thankfully, You had a twenty-minute break now, so you turned to Maya and asked her to come to the bathroom with you.
"fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" you started freaking out right when you got into the bathroom. "What?" Maya asked, visibly concerned "He touched my leg and I think I'm gonna have a heart attack" you said, panicked. Maya laughed. You looked sternly at her "This is serious, ok? I don't know why but he makes me feel like I'm fucking 13 all over again" you said desperately putting your head in your hands. You sat on the floor and looked up at her, pouting. She sat beside you, still smiling. Obviously, she was enjoying this. You put your head on her shoulder. "Y/N" she said, her voice calm "you are an idiot" She stated. You looked up at her, pretending to be offended "He obviously likes you" She said. You rolled your eyes "Why? because he touched my leg? What is this elementary school?" You said, waving your hands around you. Maya chuckled "First of all, you are the one who said that he made you feel 13 again. And secondly, not just this, but all of the other times you told me about. Like come on Y/N, it's obvious! " she laughed softly "He literally always stares at you and he brings you coffee every morning!" she exclaimed" Every morning! Who does that?!" She laughed. You punched her shoulder playfully "Hey, it's our little ritual" you said, smiling just thinking about it. He had started bringing you coffee every morning when you were filming because he had noticed how you were always tired, and now he had started doing it again for the press tour. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you and it always put you in a good mood for the whole day. It became a tradition pretty quickly and as you chatted while drinking, you had started to get to know each other better, becoming closer and closer. "Oh, come on, you are literally smiling just thinking about it. You are SO down for him" Maya said, making fun of you You groaned"I hate you" you said, getting up "Y/N, I swear to god, if you don't tell him how you feel I will" Maya said, exasperated "I can't Maya" "Why not? He obviously reciprocates!"She said frustrated You sighed "Whatever, we need to get back now" you said, helping her up.
It had been a tiring day and you were laying on your bed in your hotel room, staring at the ceiling while the tv was playing in the background. You had just finished showering and you were in your bathrobe, contemplating whether or not to even put on your pajama or to just turn the light off and get under the covers like that. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a knock at the door. You frowned, confused. You had no idea who it could have been. You opened the door and your mouth fell open as you saw who was standing in front of you. Joe smirked at you "Well, this is definitely a look" he said, pointing at your bathrobe. You blushed and cleared your throat, trying to clear your mind "W-what are you doing here?" you asked, feigning nonchalance. He smirked and raised his eyebrow "that's not a nice way to greet your guests" he joked "and to answer your question, I was bored and I was wondering if you wanted to do something" he said, his voice lowering. "What did you wanna do?" you asked he licked his lips "Whatever you wanna do, darling" he said suggestively. You rolled your eyes, pretending not to be affected by his words. "Get it, idiot"You said, turning around and walking towards the bathroom "I'm gonna get dressed, and then we'll decide what to do" you told him. He entered the room and closed the door behind him "that's a shame, I liked this outfit " he said, smirking. You shot him an annoyed look, took your clothes, and went into the bathroom "I'll be right back"
this must have been a world record. You had gotten ready in like 5 minutes. You had put on a tight green dress a designer had gifted you and a tiny bit of makeup just to look presentable. Fortunately, you hadn't washed your hair and they were somehow still styled how the hairdresser had done them this morning. You looked hot, there was no other way of putting it.
You got out of the bathroom and you saw Joe's jaw fall to the floor. You laughed, proud of yourself "Oh stop" you said. He swallowed "I'm sorry, you just look really beautiful" he said grinning. You blushed, and just like that, he had all the power again. "can you help me with the zipper, I can't reach it" you asked him, walking towards him. he got up from the bed he was sitting on and you positioned yourself in front of him, before turning around. You felt his finger travel down your back and you shivered. He put one of his hands on your waist and you held your breath. You felt him smile behind you. He put his hand on the zipper and slowly started going up. You could feel his hot breath on your neck and your breathing got faster. He got to the last bit of the zipper but stopped. "What are you doing?" you asked, in a low voice "Something I should have done a long time ago" he whispered on your neck before kissing the spot under your ear. You gasped softly. "Joseph" you said. "I know you want this too Y/N " With one swift move he turned you around and looked at you straight in the eyes "tell me you don't" he murmured against your lips. You looked up at him and stayed silent. He smiled at you and without notice, he attacked your lips, with a hungry and wanting kiss. It took you a moment to realize that that was really happening, but as soon as you did, you kissed him back with the same passion, throwing your arms around his neck. His hands started exploring your whole body, caressing your ass and going up and down your back. His mouth hungrily explored yours and you could feel his beard grazing your chin. "God, this is even better than I had imagined" he said out of breath, breaking the kiss. You smiled "You had imagined this?" you asked shily. "A lot more than I should have" he said, before pushing you on the bed. You bit your lip as he leaned in to trail kisses down your neck. You moaned softly as he started sucking a spot on your neck. You could feel him smirk, as his fingers slid slowly under the hem of your dress, making you whimper. he kept sucking as his right hand made its way up to your panties, gently touching your core through them. "You're so wet already darling" he hissed, kissing your neck one last time before getting on his knees. You bit your bottom lip as your breathing got faster and you propped yourself up on your elbows. He looked up at you and grinned as he started pushing your dress up. You squirmed under his touch as he kept pulling your dress more and more out of the way until it was rolled up at your waist. "Open your legs Y/N" he said in a low growl, and you immediately did as you were told. He leaned in and kissed your still-clothed core, making a desperate whine escape your lips. he kissed it again, and you whined again, this time more desperately. "Please" you muttered almost inaudibly He smirked as he moved your underwear to the side. "Since you asked so nicely," he said, before gripping your waist and without warning licked your folds. You moaned loudly. He did the same movement with his tongue a few times before starting to suck your clit relentlessly. "Oh my go- Joseph-" You shouted as he spread your legs even more and put them on either side of his shoulders, pushing you even closer to him. he started caressing the outside of your thighs as his tongue made its way through your entrance, making you gasp before going back to your clit. You moaned again, this time even louder, and started grinding on his face, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. He gripped your waist to stop you from moving, making you whine. He kept sucking your clit until you were in ecstasy, you threw your head back, overwhelmed by the pleasure. "I-I'm gonna cum" you said, finding it difficult to form a coherent sentence. Joe chuckled and the vibrations from his voice sent a wave of pleasure through your body "Not yet my darling," he kissed your clit " I want to feel you come on my cock" he said leaning away from and taking your legs off his shoulders You whined as he stood up and you pouted at him. He grinned at you "You're gonna have to be patient Y/N" he said, quickly taking off all of his clothes. You decided to do the same so you sat on the bed and pulled off your dress. He stared at you as you did and once you were in front of him only wearing panties he licked his lips and smirked. "You are so fucking hot" he purred, before leaning and kissing you again desperately, letting you taste yourself. You could feel his boner through his boxers and it weirdly turned you one even more. Your hand traveled down to his cock and you started touching it through his underwear, making him hiss. "Y/N" he said, his voice strained. You smirked at him as your hands made their way in his boxers and you started stroking his cock, already feeling a bit of precum on his tip. "fuck" he groaned, before taking his boxers off and pulling your panties off of you, throwing them behind him. You whimpered as he positioned himself between your folds, looking down at you before pushing himself into you aggressively. "OH MY GOD JOSEPH" you screamed, overwhelmed with the feeling of being stretched out so perfectly. He groaned lowly as he started thrusting in and out of you faster and faster. "You feel so fucking good" he said out of breath, gripping your waist in order to make you stay put. He started pounding into you even harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly. The room filled with your filthy moans and the sound of your bodies meeting each other. One of his hands made its way to your clit and he started circling it, making you cry out even louder. "You're so hot when you're getting fucked" he growled, thrusting into you again, while still circling your clitoris. "Please-Joseph, I'm gonna cum" you moaned, desperately "c-can I cum? Please?" you asked , gripping his biceps, while basically begging him. "come on my cock Y/N, make me feel how good you can squeeze me sweetheart" he ordered with a deep voice, never slowing his pace. Those words tippled you over the edge, making you cum while moaning his name over and over like a prayer. He groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him and you knew he was getting closer. "Where do you want it" he said, out of breath. You didn't even need to think about it. You opened your mouth and looked at him innocently. He groaned loudly, clearly liking your choice. He quickly pulled out of you and you immediately got on the ground and on your knees as he started stroking his dick. "You are way too good for me Y/N" he murmured. You opened your mouth and in just a few moments you felt his warm fluid fill your mouth and you swallowed immediately, looking up at him and smiling. "We should have done this a long time ago" he said, chuckling and helping you up before kissing you again, this time more gently.
"Did you have a good night?" Maya asked you while you sat down at the table for breakfast. You panicked a second and cleared your throat. "Uhh, yeah, I slept fine" you lied "Well, that's good, because I didn't. It's kinda hard to sleep when you and Joseph are having extremely loud sex in the room next to mine" She said, with an annoyed but also sarcastic tone. You spat your orange juice back into the glass and started laughing like crazy "I'm sorry Maya, we'll be quieter next time" you promised, smiling at her.
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robtopus · 3 months
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Narrators come in many shapes and sizes, and while I'm not going to overload this post with academic language going back to the 60s, I feel like focusing only on the binary between "3rd person" and "1st person" is almost actively harmful.
When writing, and reading, we can look for/at the following things:
1) How close/far is this narrator (to the action, to the characters, to the setting)?
2) Is the narration static or does it change? It usually does; in what ways does it change? It does not have to be "from 3rd to 1st" person - maybe the narration got closer in some respect; maybe time was sped up and now slows down again; maybe there is a jump from the narrated present to the narrated past which impacts language?
3) When there is a first person, I've noticed a lot of readers and writers tend to jump immediately to someone narrating their own story, which is an edge-/sub-case. There's a lot of ways for the narrator to become a character in their own right even when they're not telling their own story. HPL's narrators, for example, will tell the experiences of others, summarizing reports, re-telling anecdotes and sometimes directly allowing these others to speak while still being reported.
4) Is the narrator reliable? We may think of 3rd person as inherently more reliable, but that is obviously false -- the narrator of a crime novel obviously knows Whodunnit, but they're not telling us. They may even deliberately pull the wool over our eyes in a way that 1st person would be unable to achieve (read John Le Carré, The Spy who came in From the Cold for a masterclass in this).
5) No, the narrator is not the author. So even if the narrator makes grand, sweeping statements ("Each unhappy family is unhappy in their own way"), this is first and foremost telling us ABOUT THE NARRATOR and the story they are about to tell, NOT about what Tolstoy may or may not think about family.
These are just a few quick and easy things to look out for. You don't need a degree for these, or an intimate familiarity with millenia of fiction writing and storytelling, and maybe you're doing some of those already consciously or unconsciously -- and if not, give it a try! As a reader, it's fun; as a writer, it adds depth and complexity without being overly intrusive or even noticeable; and treating your narrator, no matter how omniscient-3rd person they may be, as a character with a voice can help your style, as well. And maybe when you're stuck, try to ask yourself not what you want to tell, but how you want to tell it.
Who knows, maybe that is how you can cut through the Gordian Knot.
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slasher-male-wife · 1 year
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hi!! ok so i saw ur one shots on slashers dating an airhead, but i LOVED patrick’s one shot. so i wanted to ask if you could make a little fic on that one shot?
I'd love to write this for you. What I wrote before is called head cannons and what I'm writing now is called a one shot btw. I totally understand getting them mixed up though. I hope you enjoy!
They're stupid but...I kind of like that: Patrick Bateman x airhead reader
Warnings: Attempted murder, Patrick has a soft spot for you
Patrick invited you over to his apartment. You work with him at the office. You're an assistant for one of his coworkers and he's heard other men in the office talk about how dumb you are but he's never really believed that you could be that dumb. Patrick is in the bathroom now, putting on his clear rain coat. You're waiting in the living room on the couch, news paper spread all over the ground.
When Patrick re enters the living room he notices you holding up one of the newspapers. 'Odd' He thinks to himself. Walking over to the kitchen where the ax lays he notices you really reading the news paper.
"Y/n?" He asks. You lower the paper and look at him. Realization washes over his face. He assumes you just saw the ax and the rain coat but you set the paper back on the ground.
"I'm so sorry you probably had those there for a reason. I didn't mean to mess it up." He stares at you blankly trying to determine if you're just playing dumb or if you really are that dumb.
"No that's fine. I was just wondering what you were doing." You nod and look him up and down.
"Is it raining outside? If it is you don't have to walk me out to my cab I can do it myself." You say standing up.
"No, no. Just sit there for a little while alright?" You nod with a smile still on your face. Patrick ducks back into the kitchen and runs a hand over his face. 'How can they be so clueless?' He thinks to himself, 'I mean they deal with stocks and important finance all day. They're stupid, obviously...but I kind of like that.' He spends a few more moments in the kitchen before he walks back out to the living room. Now not wearing the clear rain coat, "Y/n can I ask you something?" He asks moving to sit next to you on the couch.
"Of course Mr. Bateman." He smiles a polite but empty smile.
"Please, call me Patrick. But I was wondering if you know how stocks are going at the moment." You pause for a moment before you bite your lip then smile.
"This is going to sound really bad. But I don't know a thing about stocks. I feel so guilty all the time because I'm working around them so much but I just don't know a thing about them." His smile grows more sincere as he wraps an arm around your shoulder.
"I don't think that's a bad thing at all Y/n." He says.
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victoriadallonfan · 9 months
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Parahumans Fandom based on the best and worst comments/messages I've received or seen:
Fanfiction.net - (Best) - Someone told me they had no idea that Worm had a sequel and they quickly binged the entire thing after reading my fanfic. Told me they loved how optimistic the story was and thought my fic did a good job of emulating that.
(Worst) - Being sent a message about how they wanted to rape the main character (Victoria) and tried to bully me write a different story for them.
Reddit - (Best) - Numerous posts about how the setting and story of Parahumans has given people positive vibes, made them felt seen, helped them process traumatic events in their lives, or exposed them to different cultures/ideas. Even while acknowledging the very real faults of the stories, and how things could or should be improved, there are a lot of great analysis's out there on the subreddit.
(Worst) - Pick your poison: "Nazi's aren't evil", "Mind rape isn't real rape", "Even if it was rape, it was deserved", "Why doesn't Taylor join the Empire?", "Sophia deserved what happened to her", "You don't agree with Taylor's decisions? You're just like Uvalde Police!" Death threats in general.
Tumblr - (Best) Actually too many to mention. I am disappointed that I am a relatively recent member, because there are a lot of people who post funny, insightful, and even valuable point of views. Even when I disagree with them on 99% of things, mostly Ward related obviously, there's always at least a handful of posts from even those users that I can look at and go, "Wow, that take really made me re-evaluate things".
(Worst) Awful lot of people telling me to kill myself and worse from Anons, more than any other site. Like, damn tumblr, way to take the prize from Reddit. Still, same sort of behavior as on Reddit, just styled differently by users to pretend it's better.
Spacebattles - (Best) Had someone tell me that they love how my Victoria fanfic was great and inspired them to read Ward, where they felt really seen as a survivor of sexual abuse, and that they are processing what they've going through in a new lens. Helps that I'm like, one of 4 active Ward fic writers, so the fandom is far smaller haha
(Worst) Had a white supremacist recruiter try to convince me and others that their Empire 88 Self-Insert was just a joke, while also trying to recruit people. Got them banned lmao
Sufficient Velocity - Don't use that site for anything other than Pale updates
AO3 - Nothing but positivity from them, if they decide to leave a comment at all
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shiny-jr · 24 days
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RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH I literally cannot put into words how much I loved the latest Damnation au chapter- I was literally seconds away from putting my phone down to get back to work but as soon as I saw a glimpse of the fic, I just couldn't help but put everything on hold
I was really impressed with how you included Epel into the story in a way that just about correlated to Epel in canon (like how he was actively opposed to hit position in the castle). Like taking into consideration of the time period and the possible reasons why Epel would be relevant there in the first place despite not being in the original tale- SO WELL DONE!! Not to mention Vil going out of his way to find potential successors really emphasizes his hatred for Neige (poor guy😭) Also the way you write about Rook??? I knew he'd be creepy but gyat damn your writing only increased the feeling of it ten-fold. Especially in that scene after he climbed through the window and interrupted MC and Vil- Literally foaming at the mouth i was like 'holy crap this is it, we're gonna get exposed' cause aint no way Rook WOULDN'T know. Everything about him was unnerving yet so charming?? I really don't know how you do it but the way you just write them is just so accurate👏
As a Vil simp, every scene with him in it had be giggling and kicking my feet✨ I was pleasantly surprised with his advances towards the MC though- like hubba hubba... I ain't complaining though! The tension in those scenes were just *chefs kiss* Every moment with him just oozed authority and power, like I'd be on the edge of my metaphorical seat just waiting for the moment he calls out the MC
Like holy crap you really know how to set your scenes- like legit every time I Rook or Vil were in a scene, it genuinely felt tense. Also props to MC for looking out for #1 (themselves) even at the expense of ruining someone else
Anyway excuse my rambling lmao i'm definitely gonna be re-reading it again ^^
Sounds like another happy reader. And yes, Epel's part was difficult. Mainly because, well, Epel is based off the poisoned apple, so how is he supposed to play that role? In my mind, the poisoned apple is a tool used by the Evil Queen. So, what is similar to a tool? A person to manipulate, which is how I came up with the idea of heir. Combined with the fact that Vil obviously takes a shine to Epel, as he spends time meticulously perfecting his habits and mannerisms in-game. Which fit the scenario I was to use, of a King claiming an heir and drilling instructions and behaviors in their mind to manipulate.
Rook and Vil were easy to place into roles, due to who they're based off of. But it was difficult coming up with scenes for them, since the Huntsman and Evil Queen don't have a lot in the movies. Especially the Huntsman.
For Rook, I actually considered writing a scene were MC followed him as he scoped out the meadow or the moment when Rook was to escort Neige to the meadow, but ultimately I decided against that as it would overcomplicate the plot and give more time to Neige instead of Rook. I needed a way to properly portray Rook's watchfulness and the unease it spawns, which I figured should fit the setting. A carefully worded conversation knit of lies and unsaid threats and fears is much more effective when the reader is picturing hollowed stone halls of a palace instead of a colorful meadow. At least, that was my thought process there, which is why most interactions with Rook are in settings such as those.
And finally, Vil, who I decided to write a few more interesting scenes for purely because I know a good amount of my followers love that pretty man. There were multiple concepts and scrapped ideas I've already forgotten by now, different things that never made it to my keyboard, like a tense dinner scene and back-and-forth bickering. But some of those just didn't fit the feeling I wanted, or was out of character for either the MC or others.
Anyways, now I'm rambling. Sorry. I hope the second read was just as enjoyable as the first!
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i-heart-hxh · 1 year
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Hey! I’ve absolutely been loving your posts and re-posts lately. I’ve been heavily getting back into HxH recently and the Killugon brain rot is real. I’d like to get your opinion on something though. I’ve been thinking a lot about the scene during the “Palm date arc” where Killua and Gon are working out at the gym and Killua asks Gon if he’s been on a date before. Obviously this is a pretty famous scene for a number of reasons, although personally I’ve always found it to be one of the most misunderstood scenes in the entire series, as I’ve yet to see anyone really share my thoughts for what I think Togashi was trying to do with it. It actually showcases his writing skills very well imo, and I think that (besides the very surface level comedy of the interaction) there’s 3 things this whole scene is trying to tell us:
1. Killua and Gon have two entirely different conceptions of dating and what it means, with Gon being either oblivious or innocent to any romantic or intimate meaning while Killua is very much the more mature one who understands those parts of dating. This is probably the most.
2. Killua is clearly upset and put off by the idea of Gon going on dates with anyone, and arguably very jealous when Gon tells him about past “dates”.
3. Killua has no desire to go on dates with people, and just wants to stay by Gon’s side “forever” when the subject of dating is brought up.
Now, I have much longer form explanations and evidence for all of these points I can give but I’d like to see your interpretation of my thoughts first, as again, I think this is both of one of the most misunderstood scenes in the whole series, and one of the most important for understanding Killua and Gon’s dynamic and how they feel about relationships
Hello! Thank you so much, it makes me happy to hear you're enjoying my posts. I've been internally cultivating my HxH brainrot for years and it feels good to finally be able to share more of it. I'm so glad you sent this to me so I can weigh in, I'd love to hear your additional thoughts as well!
This is an excellent analysis and you're spot on! I love that you're focusing on a small scene rather than the arc as a whole, because it makes it easier to pull apart each aspect of it and the intended meaning without having to leave things out. I think the larger context of this subplot does nothing but support what you're saying, too.
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The thing that stands out to me with these panels is how much Togashi is emphasizing Killua's shock and stress over this. The huge metaphorical boulder, his expressions, he is clearly bothered. And sure, it is comedic because Killua is not understanding Gon here because of their different levels of awareness, but I don't think that takes away from what is being said. The scene could have been set up in a way that doesn't immediately conjure up the concept of jealousy on Killua's part, but Togashi makes it clear over and over again in this arc how panicked and upset Killua is at the thought of Gon going on a date (with someone who is unhinged, but while Killua is certainly concerned about that, he seems just as bothered by the thought of Gon going on a date specifically).
As the audience, I think we gather by Gon's line about Mito that he's not talking about real dates, and that the things they were teaching him were probably innocent (I sometimes see people taking this at surface level, but I really think Togashi is being tongue-in-cheek here and showing us that Gon's view of what dates are is innocent and lacks context). But of course Killua is in the middle of a gay crisis here and he doesn't catch on and misunderstands.
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Then, so shortly after, we're into Killua stating he wanted to stay with Gon forever (ずっと). I didn't like how the English version of this line was phrased, seemed like it was being downplayed a bit and didn't contain the word "forever," so here it is in Japanese. I think it's incredibly telling how it goes immediately from thinking about Gon going on dates and denying that he has been on dates (because he was learning to kill and then with Gon) into this line, and especially with how downright pained Killua's expression is at the thought of having to leave Gon, as he promised himself. It's hard to come up with any other explanation for this scene, you know?
This is more my own interpretation than straight-up analysis, but I think this is maybe another straw in the pile of Killua thinking his feelings for Gon are one-sided as well, as he struggles with through all of CAA--in Killua's misunderstood/mistaken view here, Gon has been on multiple dates and has experience with romance and therefore he might be more "normal," while Killua feels like his whole world is Gon--and he doesn't seem interested in the thought of going on dates himself, all he comes back to is wanting to be with Gon. It might widen the chasm between them a little bit in Killua's eyes.
Anyway, all of this is basically just expounding on what you already said. I appreciate how you summed it up so clearly and succinctly! I agree that it's a great example of Togashi's writing, which is very rich, and often even small scenes like this have multiple meanings and intentions we can take from them if we look at them carefully. His eye for detail is incredible.
Like I said above, the full arc's context surrounding this scene only supports the conclusions you came to--there are more examples throughout of Killua's jealousy in this specifically romantic context, Gon's lack of full awareness on this topic, and Killua's devotion to Gon. It's so telling of Togashi's intentions that ultimately the Palm subplot concludes with Palm of all people emphasizing that Killua is the one Gon needs.
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hi i am re-entering into my outsiders era a bit so i have a lil request - the gang being friends w an art kid? like drawing and painting and sculpting and stuff
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The boys with an art kid reader
A/N: i know the second req said hcs but i really wanted to write a little piece for this! also i’m in that mid-year phase where i want it to be christmas already so this is set at christmas. Y/N and Two-Bit are a bit of a thing cause i love two bit and i wanna write cute things with him so shush
Tags: fluff
Warnings: none!
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It was Christmas eve at the Curtis house, the gang had a tradition of doing their gift-giving then rather than Christmas day so everyone could spend the day with their families, though they normally met up later in the day anyway. “Woah Y/N this is amazing!” ponyboy stared in awe of the bookmark y/n made for him with a sunset painted on it with watercolour. “I’m glad you like it.” Y/N gave Pony a warm smile and handed a bigger package to Darry. He opened it and smiled to himself. “A new baking bowl! just what i needed!” Soda laughed. “Grandma Dar and his baking.” Darry set the bowl down carefully far away from them so it wouldn’t get broken before pulling Sodapop into a headlock. “i won’t make you cookies no more then, see how you like that!” The two wrestled on the ground before Soda gave up. Y/N laughed and handed presents to the rest of the gang.
Johnny gasped when he opened his present. Dally looked over at him and could’ve sworn he was close to tears. “Y/N this is beautiful.” He looked at the small piece of paper in his hand. it was a pencil drawing of all the gang together, it was small enough to fit into a wallet, which y/n knew johnny carried around because all the gang had pitched in to buy it for his birthday. Y/N smiled but was interrupted before they could say anything by soda stomping his feet. Y/N had made him a watercolour painting of a horse, he recognised who it was right away. it was his horse, mickey mouse. “Y/N how did you get this!!” He was also close to tears but he was smiling from ear to ear. “well it’s a long story, yknow the way my parents own a ranch? well they somehow knew who bought mickey mouse all those years ago and i got in contact with them. i went to their ranch about 4 hours drive away. obviously i didn’t have the money to buy him off the rancher but i got a picture and painted it, that way you’ll always have him.” Y/N smiled. in reality mickey mouse had died about two years ago and that was just a picture the farmer had but Sodapop didn’t have to know that.
Dally opened his gift. “what is it?” Dally looked confused. Y/N laughed. “They’re fingerless gloves, crocheted. that way your hands might be slightly warmer than ice like they normally are, but you can still have full use of your hands cause let’s be honest the fingers are always annoying in gloves.” Dally smiled, he’d never admit it, but he appreciated the thought. “Y/N! This is so cool!” Y/N looked at him and smiled. Steve held up a sleeveless denim jacket with the back panel painted black with “you can’t handle the randle” painted on in big red letters and fire painted at the bottom. The front had little embroideries on it too. all things that meant something to Steve. “Glad you like it!”
“You’re so talented Y/N! But uh- where’s my present?” Two-Bit chuckled, he’d been surprisingly quiet up until now. Y/N gasped “Oh shit. i forgot your present.” They laughed about it and Y/N promised to give it to him the next day. After a while Two-Bit went out to the front porch to smoke a cigarette and Y/N followed him a few minutes later. Once they knew the two of them were alone they turned to Two-Bit. “I didn’t forget your present, i just wanted to give it to you away from the others.” They pulled a small box out of their pocket. it had red wrapping paper and black ribbon on it. Two-Bit took it from them and opened it carefully. Inside was a ring with ‘i love you’ engraved on the inside. On the outside intricate patterns were also engraved, but it didn’t look too busy or cluttered, just pretty and detailed. “i didn’t make this one, but i designed it” Two-Bit put it on and when he rubbed his thumb along the surface he realised it could spin. he played with it for a moment before Y/N spoke again. “it helps to calm you down or distract you when, y’know-” Two-Bit nodded. Y/N knew he struggled with anxiety, all the gang did to a degree, but he had it the worst by far. “it’s beautiful darlin, it really is. Thank you.” Two-Bit hugged Y/N before looking around to see if anyone was there. when he was sure there wasn’t he gave them a quick kiss. none of the boys knew about the two of them, and they don’t want any of them finding out this way. “Happy christmas my love.” Y/N whispered. “Happy christmas.” Two replied, smiling to himself.
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muse-oleum · 2 months
Text
Always & Forever
okay, hi, welcome, i'm really unsure about this because i've never written something quite so heavy or, in fact, anything Elejah at all so, um, be nice? pwease? and if you see typos, as always, no you didn't. this came about because i recently re-read two masterpieces of the Elejah variety: We Remain, by Anonymous Observer (@deathloveshischicagopizza on this platform, sure hope i got that right lmao) and She's Come Undone and Set Free, by @terapsina. and it got the brain juices flowing and the creative bugs going.
you can find me here on ao3. this has also been cross-posted over there.
WARNING: very brief discussion of non-con/rape (because Damon is a dick) but it's more implied than anything else.
as for my ElijahxOC fic readers (if there are any here) i swear to god i'm in the process of writing a new chapter, i promise.
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Always and forever. 
Looking up at the intimidating walls of the infamous Abattoir, Elena kept those words close to her heart, like a talisman against the dangers she knew lurked inside. 
She wasn’t afraid of him. She never truly had been, aside from their first meeting, forever ago in that decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. But she was unsure about his brother, and the kingdom he ruled over. Even now, a mere hour after the sun had set, she could see vampires flitting in and out through the doorway, obviously on a mission for their evil hybrid overlord. 
Elena took a deep breath, calming her heart. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. They were long past that, they had to be, for her own sanity. Besides, the moral high ground was no longer hers to stand on. 
She took one step, then another, forcing her legs to move despite the fear. She knew she couldn’t stay the way she was, alone and scared. She knew who she could trust. 
She always had. 
Hyperaware as she was, she could feel everything. The stares on her as she made her way through a square courtyard, the back and forth glide of her purse against her hip, the smell of blood and bourbon—a scent she had come to associate with New Orleans—but most of all she felt the moment he saw her, as if ripples crashed against her chest in tiny little shockwaves. 
A vampire zoomed in front of her, fangs out, eyes flashing red, no doubt trying to intimidate her; that’s how vampiric hierarchy worked (another thing they had neglected to teach her). He didn’t know she had known far, far worse. 
She often wondered if the Salvatores knew the first thing about being vampires. She supposed she was lucky Rose had told her some things, the last time she was in town, such as how to act around older, stronger vampires before you inadvertently got your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Or else, she probably would have been long dead, again. 
Still, she submitted, as she had always done. She cast her eyes down, her jugular on clear display, and waited. The vampire, a dark-skinned man with wide eyes, immediately stood back, cocking his head slightly. Then he straightened, a telltale look of fear in his eyes. 
“I’d recommend not doing that again, Diego.”
His voice, soft and dangerous, just the way she remembered it. But the danger was never for her, not even when he’d cracked the earth open and abandoned her to his sister’s less than tender mercy in that underground cave he knew so well. 
Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous. 
To everyone else. 
“Elena.”
She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t help it, she’d missed the sound of her name on his lips. The way he accented the word a little differently than everyone else, how even when he was stressed or angry, he’d always said her name with a little bit of wonder, an awestruck tone she couldn’t quite understand. She had always been special, she knew—to her parents, their little girl; to her brother, his only sibling; to her friends, the listening ear; to the brothers, for her face; and then, to him. She didn’t understand how she was special to him, but she was, she knew it. His tone of voice gave him away, every time, the soft lilting of the syllables, pronounced with care, each of them a caress that soothed some strange part of her brain.
“Elijah.”
She met his eyes, wider and darker than she remembered them. Actually, no, that wasn’t right, they had been even darker in Willoughby, when he’d kissed her. 
Not her. Katherine. 
She forced the thought away, she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She had other, bigger, problems only an Original brother could help her with. She almost thanked Klaus and his godforsaken curse for bringing him into her life, however inadvertently, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him now. 
Probably staked herself. 
“Can we—” she faltered a bit, eyeing the vampires listening in, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in what a baby vampire could have to say to the king of the city that would warrant even a moment of his time. Because he was the king, she had no doubt about that. Klaus may be the face, but Elijah was the hand behind it all. 
She swallowed, putting her blinders on, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk?”
He observed her, his head tilted to the side, a small frown on his brow. She could tell her demeanor alone puzzled him, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been on a rampage across the country, his little sister in tow, searching for a cure she obviously had not taken. He rallied quickly, turning halfway, gesturing to door behind him. It led to an indoor dining room area and she briefly panicked; It was too reminiscent of the boarding house. 
“Not—not here, hum… Would you mind…?” She turned back towards the lobby, the doors still wide open. 
He softened, his hands going back into his pockets. A clear message to her—an everyone else—that he meant no harm. She’d learned that particular tell of his long ago. 
“Of course.” 
She felt his hand at the small of her back as they walked outside into the evening air. She still felt slightly claustrophobic indoors, even in an open courtyard, the presence of a dozen vampiric eyes on her certainly not helping. It reminded her too much of the almost scientific fascination the brothers had when they were trying to force her back into a humanity she wasn’t certain she wanted anymore. 
And therein laid her problem. 
The switch was back on, she knew that; she could feel it, just as she herself simply… felt. But it wasn’t pushed back completely, there was a jam, a missing piece, a core memory she still couldn’t access. Part of her wondered if it was for her own good, the other part wanted to let everything back in and be done with it. As things stood now, she had only half the story behind her sudden emotion-free spree, and she knew there was more lurking behind that door. 
But she wasn’t sure how to access it on her own, and she needed the help on the only other vampire she could trust to do it right. 
This limbo state—on but not on; back to herself but not completely—made her incredibly vulnerable. She could feel the imbalance in her soul, as corny as that sounded, because she was missing something—something she needed in order to move on fully, to become herself again, even in this new skin. 
Caroline couldn’t help her, although she understood what the problem was and it was ironically her who had suggested the solution that had been staring her in the face all this time. She needed help from someone who had studied vampirism better than anyone else, and that person walked by her side now, silent as he let her gather her thoughts. She took a breath, let it out, relishing the fresh air. 
Well, as fresh as it could be in the Big Easy. 
“Where are we going?” She asked, her voice still too small for her liking. She wasn’t afraid of him, dammit! She was simply afraid of every other man. But she didn’t know how to let him know that, and she could tell he was worried. 
“What would you prefer?” He asked right back, ever the gentleman. 
She shrugged. “You know the city better than I do.”
He smiled. “There’s a bar not far that my siblings and I like to frequent on occasion. Unless you would prefer dinner?”
She shivered slightly, either to the thought of “dinner” or his voice, she wasn’t sure. 
“The bar will do.”
She wasn’t even surprised when he opened the door to Rousseau’s, she really should have known. He noticed her half-smile when they sat down, cocking an eyebrow in question. She shook her head, amused. 
“That’s the first bar I stopped at when I first arrived in the city.” Figures you’d do the same, but she didn’t say that. 
“Yes, it’s quite… quaint,” he replied, lips quirking up slightly, somehow managing not to make it sound like an insult, “it’s also where I first stopped by when I came back.”
Yeah, figures. 
“Did you know it, back in the day?” 
He shook his head, smiling a little more fully as a blonde bartender approached them. “Not very well, it was ran by a werewolf family my brother and I preferred to avoid dealing with whenever possible.”
“NOLA problems?”
“NOLA problems.”
The bartender, Camille, judging by her name tag, reached their table and Elena was surprised when Elijah engaged her in a short but clearly familiar conversation. Camille seemed equally surprised to find him here at this hour, seated with a woman. Clearly, it wasn’t a habit of his. She chose not to analyze how that made her feel. 
“What can I get you?” She asked with a friendly smile. She really was quite beautiful. 
Unsurprisingly, Elijah asked for bourbon. Elena stifled a laugh, asking her to make her whatever she fancied most. This time, it was Elijah’s turn to chuckle and Camille joined him, shaking her head. 
“Family habit, I see.”
Elena froze, eyes growing wide, but Elijah didn’t contradict her and Camille went on her merry way back to the bar, only throwing one furtive glance back. 
“Family habit?”
Elijah shook his head, rearranging his glass so it sat just so in front of him. She valiantly resisted the urge to push it back just to mess with him. 
“I may or may not have told her the exact same thing when I first met her. She’s become somewhat of a friend of ours since then.”
“She seems nice.”
He nodded, pensive again. She managed to hold eye contact for all of three seconds before looking back down at her hands, fiddling with the string of her purse. 
“Elena.”
She looked back up just as Camille brought them their drinks. Cautiously, she took a sip, surprised at the depth of flavors that exploded on her tongue. Her wonder must have shown  on her face because Camille laughed.
“I’ve learned a thing or two about making vampires drinks. I hope it’s to your taste?”
Elena shot her a look, taken aback, but Elijah simply smiled. 
“You can call me Cami, by the way. I hate my full name but Elijah still hasn’t fully internalized that yet.”
The man in question simply sniffed, the epitome of snobbishness, and Elena laughed. It wasn’t her laugh from before, but she had missed the sensation anyway. 
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I don’t think he ever will.”
Cami sighed dramatically, tucking her tray under her arm. 
“Yeah, I think I got that. Anyway, enjoy!” She gave them another smile and moved on to another table. 
With her gone, Elena was once again confronted by her own feelings, bubbling up to the surface. The drink helped, turning down the faucet of emotions a little, just so she could breathe without it hurting too much. She brought her hands on the table, lowering her drink, her index finger running in circles around the rim. 
“Elena?”
This time her name was a question, one she couldn’t hope to evade. She shouldn’t anyway, that’s why she was here in the first place but damn was it hard to force herself to look back up into his eyes. 
“What happened?”
He asked the question flat out, the frown returning. 
“How do you know anything happened?”
“Because I know that nothing would bring you within a hundred miles of my brother of your own free will.”
“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, too quickly. His frown deepened. 
“Is anyone here with you?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, I came on my own.”
His eyebrows shot up right into his hairline and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, when had the Salvatores ever let her do something on her own, much less when it involved him? 
“They…” she swallowed, “they don’t know I’m here. Nobody does.” She released a quiet laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I expect they’re all up in arms back home, wondering where I’ve gone.”
She looked back down at her drink, taking a sip. Her finger beat a restless rhythm against the glass. Slowly, Elijah reached over, giving her time to evade him if she wanted to, and brought his hand to cover hers. 
“Elena, sweetheart, what happened?”
The endearment flowed from his lips seemingly without his own accord, if the slight widening of his eyes was any indication. His jaw clicked shut, his eyes flickered back down to their hands, but he didn’t take it back.
Elena rather liked the way it sounded. 
She took a breath.
“You know my humanity was off a few weeks back, yes?”
Of course, he knew. She’d practically spat it in his face right before Katherine did a very Katherine thing and snapped her neck like a twig. Idiot. 
He just nodded silently. 
“Well, what I didn’t tell you back then was that I, hum… I—I was sired. To Damon. He—I… There was… a sire bond. Between us.” 
Elijah went deadly still, the motion of his thumb running across the back of her hand stilling. His eyes hardened impossibly, but she knew whatever it was that he was feeling, it wasn’t meant for her. Or rather, it wasn’t aimed at her. 
“You were sired,” he said flatly, tonelessly. 
And here was the Elijah she remembered from that mansion in the fields. 
“It was… a side effect, I just… I—” she faltered, her eyes dropping back to her hands. She tried to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let her, resuming his caress. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and the tension bled from his shoulders. 
“Did he know?”
No use disguising it. 
“Yes.”
The air became even more still. 
“He knew you were sired to him while the two of you were together?”
Elijah looked faintly sick, the tick in his jaw growing more intense. 
“Yes.”
Another deep breath, deeper than the last. She felt his hand twitch over hers, but the soothing motion of his thumb never stopped. 
“Did he attempt to free you, at least?” He asked. She shook her head. And then he asked the question she’d been dancing around for the past twenty minutes. “Did he demand you turn it off?”
Elena heard the unspoken question, the one she knew would tip it all over. But she couldn’t lie to him, she’d never been very good at it anyway. 
“Yes.”
Everything went quiet, the air became electric, like the calm before the storm, right before the first rumble of thunder could be heard and the first lightning strike the sky clean in half. Right now, Elijah’s eyes were that sky, dark and stormy, a rage so potent in them she was strangely fascinated by it. The muscle of his jaw tensed impossibly more and she worried he might crack it entirely. 
She had never seen him so angry. 
If not for the soft contact between their hands, she might have been a little scared. Just a little. Because she remembered those words and in that moment, there was perfect clarity. 
Always and forever. 
She was quite certain that, should she ask him to end her sire, to bring her his head, he would. Happily, gleefully and without a hint of regret. She wasn’t sure she herself would feel any, and wasn’t that a nasty little surprise. 
She should feel regret. She knew that even just bringing up the subject with him meant placing Damon (and by extension, Stefan) in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She’d waited so long to give voice to those feelings—the shame, the disgust, the loathing, the pain. She would not take them back now. 
“Say the word, lovely Elena, and he will suffer.”
It really shouldn’t have been even remotely attractive, the way he said it. But it was, and she let herself feel it. 
“I… I don’t know what I want.”
Elijah nodded, a tiny movement of his head, but full of understanding. She took a breath. One hard part was done, but there was still the larger question, looming in the back of her skull. She was more than a little worried, though. What she wanted to ask him—what she needed him to do… that would violate the terms of their friendship like never before. She didn’t want to ask it of him but she knew she needed to remember something else, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. But she knew it was important. Her brain was shielding her for a reason, but she—the Elena who had had her choices taken from her at every turn since her transformation—needed to know. 
Or else how could she hope to feel whole again? 
So, she straightened, automatically readying herself to launch into an x, y, z explanation of why that was the best choice—and why she was making it.
“There’s something else.”
Elijah tensed, she was surprised that she managed to notice it at all. 
“But we can’t do this here…” she chewed on her lip, eyes flickering between him and the other patrons in the bar. “Is there somewhere… somewhere more…” she gestured wordlessly, tired already.
But Elijah had never needed words to understand her, certainly not with the way he was watching her now. It was strangely reminiscent of a hawk, but it wasn’t discomforting. 
Maybe an owl. A wise, old owl trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Funnily, she had never before thought of herself as “puzzling” but judging by his look, she might have to reconsider. She was, in her honest opinion, an incredibly simple person: she loved her family and friends, was far too oblivious of things until it was too late, took her coffee ninety percent black, and never failed to help out when it was needed. 
But looking at herself in Elijah’s dark brown eyes the reflection she saw was not one of simplicity. 
“There is somewhere more discreet. I doubt anyone will be here at this hour.”
“Not even vampires?” She asked as he helped her out of her chair. 
He smirked. Elijah Mikaelson actually honest to god smirked at her.
“They know better.”
She laughed. 
“A church? Seriously?”
Elijah made a show of ushering her in, suited up arm extended in invitation. 
“It’s not even Sunday.”
“Thankfully.”
In the silence of the church, Elena repressed a giggle with great difficulty. It was quieter than a tomb, inside. Although, she really wasn’t sure who had first come up with this particular phrase, but she’d love to hear their explanation because in her informed opinion, tombs were anything but quiet. There was always the whisper of the wind, the pitter-patter of bugs and rodents foraging in the cracked stones paving the way to the afterlife. 
Or maybe that was just her experience since she’d turned.
Huh.
She took in her surroundings. It was obvious that the place had sat deserted for a while but had just been opened up again. There were wood planks lined along the walls and several canvas sheets haphazardly thrown around on the pews. 
“Where are we?” She asked, taking in the smell of dust, wood and stone. 
Elijah’s footsteps echoed behind her. “St Anne’s Church. Our local priest seems to be out tonight.”
“You know the priest?”
He had been pagan, in his youth, right?
Elijah gave her his signature half-smile in response, dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on one the benches. “He’s Camille’s uncle.”
“Small world.”
“Welcome to New Orleans.”
Exhaling on a chuckle, Elena sat down on one of the benches, somewhere between the door and the altar, at the middle point of the nave. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel good enough to sit at the front. Elijah took a seat next to her, their shoulders brushing together, his presence grounding her. On a whim, before she could think better of it, she grasped his hand, gripping perhaps a little too tightly. He didn’t complain, simply resuming his earlier soothing caresses on the back of hers. 
“I need to ask you something, Elijah.”
“You can ask anything of me, lovely Elena.”
He was sincere. She didn’t have to look at him to know that. 
“You probably won’t like it.” She warned.
He tilted his head in question; she heard the soft sound of his collar brushing against his jaw.
She took the plunge and braced herself for the ice cold rush of the water. 
“I need you to compel me.” 
Whatever it was that Elijah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. 
His shoulders tensed on instinct, his lips parting on a soft gasp. Elena’s hand gripped his tighter, perhaps afraid he would let go.
He never could have, anyway. 
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, meeting the wide-eyed stare he couldn’t even begin to disguise. There was a pleading at the bottom of hers, pooling in the form of tears that gathered on her lashes before falling softly, tracing her cheeks with wet streaks. He fought against the urge to wipe them away. 
“I need you to help me remember something. There’s… I—” she took in a breath, exhaled, completely oblivious to the feeling that ignited in him when heard the words “need” and “you” in the same sentence, coming from her. She tried again. “There’s something… something I can’t place, a… a darkness that lingers at the edge of my mind when I try to think back on what happened.” 
He brought his hand up then, unable to face her tears and remain still. He caught a strand of her and brought it behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful face. The wide doe eyes that met his could only belong to her. 
“What happened when?” He prompted, gently running his thumb back and forth along her jaw. 
She sighed, leaning into his touch. He marveled at being able to touch her so freely. 
“When I was still sired to Damon.” 
The way she bit out the words made his heart clench. There was indeed something in her eyes, a strange haunting of sorts. It darkened the edges of her eyes slightly, turning warm brown into dark chocolate. It would have been quite bewitching if not for her tears. 
Centuries of instinct suddenly woke up in his chest, growling as it shook itself awake, unfurling from a long sleep.
“I just… I need to make sure of something.” She rushed on, “I know that my brain is likely trying to protect me but—” she growled softly, tugging her hair back, “but I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember it all.” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid, catching a single tear, making her sigh again. She seemed to shrink, releasing his hand and drawing her arms around herself. He recognized it for the protection mechanism it was. 
The beast in his chest growled louder. 
“I feel like half myself and I don’t even know why. It’s exhausting.”
She looked back up at him, her beautiful eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He was powerless to resist. He knew then he would do whatever it was she asked of him if only to never have to see her cry again. 
“Tell me what you need me to do.”
The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. He realized with a start that she had expected him to argue with her. He pursued his lips, caressing her jaw again. These… children truly had worked a number on her. 
“I need you to compel me to remember it all. Tell me to remember everything that happened while I was under the influence of the sire bond.” She said in as determined a tone as he had ever heard from her. 
And so, he complied. 
Gently, he took her face in his hands, holding her tenderly, like she was made of porcelain. He supposed, in his hands, she always would be. And he compelled her, her pupils dilating as she took in his order, body growing first lax and then as taught as a bowstring. Her hand shot out to dig into his thigh and the feeling would have registered as painful if his attention hadn’t been fixed on the utter devastation on her face. 
She took a breath but it came out as a sob, a heart wrenching sound that tore him apart. 
“He… oh my god, he—” she looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he felt the beast in his heart bare its teeth, “he… he didn’t… oh god—oh god, no, I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t! Oh my god—” she whimpered, and he finally couldn’t take it anymore. 
Slowly, gently, he took her in his arms as she sobbed. She molded to him, her small hands gripping his shirt so tightly he was certain she would rip it off. She curled up, half in his lap, and buried her head against his neck, her tears soaking his collar. 
He was certain of only one thing as he gently rocked her against him, wincing as the scream she let out into his shoulder tore though his heart.
Damon Salvatore would die a slow, painful death for what he had done. 
Elena wasn’t sure how long she cried in Elijah’s arms, only that he never once let her go. He was careful not to hold her too tightly, and she knew he had understood the magnitude of what she had just uncovered. 
Damon hadn’t stopped himself from sleeping with her while she was under the influence of the sire bond. He hadn’t tried to free her from it, once he’d known, and he’d carried on as things were and she, helpless to do anything but please him, had done exactly just that. 
But now, with the veil lifted, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t wanted to. It was too soon after Stefan, too early in her transition. The feelings of love had been heightened by her Turning and by the sire bond, turning into a deadly cocktail of dependence. If only she had known. 
She whimpered, a broken sob wrenching its way out of her—how many did she have left? It couldn’t be many, she was so very tired. 
Elijah’s arms tightened around her, his hand stroking her hair gently. She felt the ghost of his lips at the crown of her head, the touch doing more to calm her than anything had so far. 
She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Damon. But she had anyway, forced by the sire bond. 
And it should matter to her that he hadn’t known that. That he hadn’t known that she didn’t want him like that, not yet anyway, but it didn’t. It should matter that, technically, he had also been a victim of the sire bond, unable to stop it, but it didn’t. Because once he had known, he hadn’t taken steps to help her out of it and she wasn’t in a position to help herself. 
He got exactly what he wanted. 
A Katherine do-over. 
Elena barely registered the anger before she was flipping an entire bench over, throwing it against the walls of the church. There was a vicious feeling in her chest, clawing its way out and she lashed out again, ripping the legs off of the bench and breaking them in half, the wood splintering into her hands, drawing blood from cuts that healed almost immediately. 
Fury, that was the feeling. 
It was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. 
Her eyes flashed red, veins rippling on her cheeks and she flipped another bench on its head before collapsing on the floor, crying again. 
She had loved him. Had been on her way to falling in love with him. 
And he had betrayed her. 
She was so very tired. Tired of feeling, tired of remembering, tired of existing. The pain of that betrayal, the shame that came with it, added to the duller, less pronounced pain of his hand in shutting off that part of her that made her her protruded from her heart in sharp edges and she distantly wondered if that’s what being staked felt like. 
Until she felt Elijah’s arms around her once more. Effortlessly, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was something infinitely precious to him. She barely registered the blur of movements and the wind in her hair that indicated he was running. She was so bone tired that the comforting warmth of the blanket he draped over her before running a hand down the side of her face barely registered with her either. 
Through the haze of her tears, she saw his face, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He tucked the blanket a little higher under her chin and she managed to grasp onto the edges, burrowing under it. 
“Is there anything you need?” His voice was pained, a small crack the dead giveaway to the unbelievable fury she could feel rolling off him. 
She shook her head, sniffling. 
“Do you want me to call your friends? Caroline, perhaps?”
All she could do was shrug, entirely unsure about everything. Her world had just toppled over. But Elijah hadn’t. He was here, as stalwart as he had always been and there was at least an inkling of hope that lit up in her at that. 
She had been right. 
She was right to trust him. 
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traincat · 3 months
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got the sudden urge to re-read 'work song' this weekend after years of not really being into spideytorch anymore. the fic is still incredible, it's reminding me why i used to love them, but it got me wondering -- was there ever any canon fallout from sue, reed, and the kids being gone like that? i had already stopped reading the comics at that point.
It's funny, I've been thinking of Work Song recently too. I obviously like to get into the guts of canon in a lot of my fic, but Work Song was really an exercise in getting into the emotional fallout that comics tend not to deal with -- for both good and bad reasons. (I think the modern lack of dealing with pretty much any emotional fallout is bad, but also if you have a serial story you have to keep a certain amount of action going. Idk, complicated thoughts about pacing and sacrifices made for genre standards and the shifting of those standards from decade to decade, etc., etc.)
And the answer to whether the fallout is ever addressed in 616 canon is... kind of no? I think there were attempts made -- both Zdarsky in his Two-in-One series and Bendis, somewhat, in Infamous Iron Man were sort of digging into things, albeit notably before Reed and Sue were actually back. (Both of those series deal HEAVILY with their absence, though.) But both of those series were also cut short, and they have finales I'm not quite satisfied with, which in this case is the fault of neither author. I think Zdarsky tried with his final two issues of Two-in-One especially, especially the one that focuses on Johnny and Sue, but just didn't have the space to address the issue of Reed and Sue essentially leaving Johnny and Ben with the gravitas and nuance that it deserved. And given that Johnny is, you know, flat out suicidal over this issue in the first ten issues of Two-in-One, that's a problem. (IIM also has a disappointing final two issues, but it focuses much more on Ben and Doom than on Johnny. Hell of a setup, wish it didn't feature the biggest copout resolution of all time.) And again I don't think this is either writer's fault -- they were both clearly trying to do something interesting and emotional, and 2n1 had a really good set up and character work. It just wasn't given the space to stick any kind of landing before everything had to be wrapped up in a tidy little bow so Slott could write some mystifyingly bad stories. (I don't believe Slott ever seriously addresses the fallout, but I could be wrong. I skimmed the back half of that run hard.)
And also I think this was something of a foundational problem that sprung from Reed and Sue and the kids going missing not as an actual story point but as a hissy fit over film rights. There was never any solid plan in action for where they were or what they were doing or what Ben and Johnny fought over that caused Ben to leave for space and Johnny to spiral out of control -- it was all just "this is happening now because we canceled the Fantastic Four comic because we want the film rights." It's very hard to build a story on shaky ground like that when you've got multiple writers, all who seemed to have slightly different takes, and apparently no one on an editorial level actually managing all of that to make sure there was a cohesive story in place. Even if the reader doesn't have that information, there should be some kind of established story for the writers to follow, and it kind of seemed like there just wasn't. (I say "kind of seemed" because obviously I wasn't there and I don't know for sure, but also like, we know for sure that there wasn't. By reading the comics it was very clear that there wasn't.) It's frustrating to think about it now because it could have been some really great storytelling, and instead it was addressed just barely and then kind of rushed along. And I feel similarly about Superior Spider-Man's fallout, except they keep resurrecting that concept every two years and kicking it around like it has anything interesting left in it.
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youngcreatorlady · 3 months
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I'll always get you back.
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pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader
warnings: Use of kidnapping, profiling, violence, ...uhhh my dumbass brain? I thinks that's it
A/N: I'M SO SORRY. MY MOTIVATION FOR WRITING HAS GONE KURSPLAT ON THE GROUND. I promise I'm getting there, I promise. I kind of changed how the story went, so instead of being suspected, all they know is that it could be the reader!
requested? By Anonymous, "Hi, I saw that you write for Criminal Minds? I was wondering if I could request somethin for a Spencer Reid × Reader ? Preferably where Reader is the suspected Unsub of a case the BAU is working on. Reid is the one that goes undercover with the team as backup in a social setting to try and catch Reader in the act of getting ready to commit or kidnap.
Maybe Reader is able to profile to a certain degree and instantly realizes something is off with Reid, though they aren't sure what. You can kinda take it from there if you'd like ??
Or if you need / want more ideas for a case or anything like that, I can send another ask or try to DM you about some that I might have"
story under the cut
"are you serious?"
Aaron Hotchner was obviously pissed off. The unsub had gotten away again, another body, another person dead, because his team couldn't realize that they knew who it was.
"okay, new plan! Reid, your going undercover. we know where she will be, so go to the lucky pot cassino, and get her in the act."
Aaron says, tossing Spencer a wire, and then getting into the van.
Spencer never usually dresses in a tux and a tie, but this casino won't let you in without some sort of formal wear, and he had to look respectful and respectable in order to catch this unsubs eye.
You on the other hand, were in a long black dress, and gold heels, doing one of your favorite things. People watching. You watched as a woman stumbled over her feet, obviously having had too much to drink. You watch as the man who had won it all, had re-bet, and quite quickly, lost it all. You also watched when this new guy came in. dressed in a black suit and tie, looking like he didn't belong there.
Almost automatically you could tell something was weird about him, just by the sheer uncomfortableness he seemed to have walking around the casino, and how overly nervous he seemed as well. You made a mental note of it and went on with your night.
Spencer on the other hand, had already seen you, but was still figuring out who the unsub was. All he had seen was a pretty woman in a black dress, watching him. That could mean a multitude of things.
He watched you as you walked over to the pool table, running your hand teasingly across some guy's bicep, he made a mental note of how this guy seemed to have just lost a big bet.
You leaned up close to the man, your hold tight on his bicep as you purred a few words out, running your hand back down, before walking away, the Guy following you like a lost puppy.
Spencer realized this, and was trying to decide between following you, or sitting around to try and find the unsub. He followed you, knowing very well you could have been the unsub, and he couldn't just walk away, knowing someone might get killed because he made the wrong choice.
You walk outside with the guy
"You know, I haven't had something like this happen since-"
You shut him up by smacking him over the head with the end of a gun, and he fell to the floor in a clump, and you tsked, seeing Reid in the shadows
"it always sucks when you got to make them pass out. they always talk to much" You hum.
Putting your gun back in its holster, you go to grab the guy, only to see around ten cops swarming you with guns, and you automatically let out a grunt of annoyance, lifting you hands up and sighing.
"why?" Spencer asks you, to which you just smirked.
"those who pretend to be holier then god, will soon get to meet the maker"
YAY! i hope you liked it Anon! you can send in another request if you want, or if you just wanna talk to me without reveling yourself!
I have to say legally, i did not make the Gif!
all reposts and comments are welcome!
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se7ens-oc-heaven · 7 months
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Fun tip from your local oc hoarder: if you have old ocs or concepts that never went anywhere, didn't quite grab you, just didn't quite work - re-insert them into the world as the npcs. The background character. The side cast.
And here's why, in a nutshell - it'll help your world feel more cohesive, to you and to anyone seeing it.
Yeah, sure, you can hastily slap together a bland shopkeep during a shopping scene, or slip in generic fan designs at a concert. But if you have someone Established, specific, someone who doesn't Have to reoccur, buuuuut... maybe the main characters always go into the store during so-and-so's friday shifts, or maybe you have concert scenes frequently enough that you'd start picking out the same fans who always attend for their favorite band... Adds to how natural it all feels, you know?
Does it have to be an old oc? Can't it be someone made to fit, I hear you ask? Well, sure! And obviously if you only have one or two ocs that aren't active, you'll have to anyways. But it's a two birds with one stone exercise - because now you've streamlined your process for having an established npc. You already have an idea of how that old oc looks, or talks, or acts. You may already know what setting they'd likely frequent, or even miscellany like what music they like or hobbies they have. Your generic npc doesn't have to have speaking lines or relevance - but if they needed to or you wanted them to, now they can. They'll have substance that keeps things from feeling too flat.
And idk, obviously some people don't pay much attention to things like that - but I've found that it makes a huge difference to me even when I hadn't realized it. It adds some extra depth to the world in small ways, that you may or may not ever use, but that way it's already built in. No scrambling or extra work to project traits onto some faceless character who talks to your protag about musicians for one scene.
This is also helpful for subverting "kill your darlings" a bit, for those who struggle a lot with that concept in their writing and worldbuilding - because for me, my problem tends to be that it's not that the darling is Entirely Pointless, it's just that they aren't a good fit. Killing a really good idea and banishing it to the drafts forever can suck. But learning how to Recycle the darling helps keep it in relevance, but by plugging it in to a better purpose than the original draft. That makes it easier to cut ideas out of my writing - because I can rest easy knowing I have it in reserve for its time to shine elsewhere.
I'd imagine this won't work for everyone, but I've found as I work on my hero story that it's added a lot of joy. Characters who fell to the sidelines or into obscurity simply because they weren't cut out for hero business now have time to shine in other small ways.
I have a girl who realistically will end up just being a background jogger. But she's also on a track team, and likes handmaking pottery in her spare time. I have a guy with weather powers, but he's focused pursuing being a talented violinist, with minimal active involvement in the hero business beyond happening to have heroes who are fans of his work.
Heck, one of my favorite characters is a duo of guys sharing a body that are just waiters at the local diner. One of them can reverse gravity or even practically rewind time with the snap of his finger if he so chose. These are powers that he studies endlessly for so he can hone and refine them better. But all he cares about is protecting his family and friends, so all you typically see him use his powers for is preventing glasses from being broken or saving his crush from tripping.
It makes me happy to see my kids just going about their day, filling a role in the background. Will they be more relevant? It's possible! But even if they aren't, there will always be glimpses - of the redhead jogging down the street, of someone in the middle of listening to a track from a classical violinist, of a waiter effortlessly stopping plates from being dropped in the middle of taking an order - all in the backdrop of whatever panel or scene or what have you that comes up.
It helps it all feel more like a world everyone belongs in, rather than a staged play. You know? And it's a very fulfilling feeling for me, both as author and as reader.
So yeah. Don't be afraid to recycle those old ocs. Tweak or streamline them if you need, but if you hold them even a little dear to your heart and can get them to click, I promise you won't regret it.
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lnsfawwi · 4 months
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Heroism in TFATWS
Let's establish one thing which is that the show operates in a superhero trope, which means there are good guys and bad guys, and the good guys always win. This is not to say that characters are morally clean-cut between good/bad. The Flag Smashers acted out of good intentions; Walker did want to do good things when he took over the mantle. But that doesn't mean they aren't the bad guys in the story, because a person is not only judged by their intentions but also the means and the ends of those intentions.
Sam and Bucky are the heroes in the story, they beat the bad guys (the Flag Smashers) and saved the world. That's how the story ends. That's how all the superhero stories end.
But the show isn't quite that simple, not in the sense that it deals with moral greys, no. Rather, the show really fucks up the boundaries between good/bad, right/wrong, and by extension, the heroism of the show.
Let's say Karli has some vague cosmopolitan worldview, and let's say that's better than the state system so Sam is justified to sympathize with her cause, and sam is rightfully asking the governments to be better. What's the actual, feasible way to achieve Karli's vision? Nice speeches notwithstanding, Sam isn't offering a solution. States aren't going to abandon the system that made them a state just because some hero dressed in an American flag descends from the sky and tells them to. Forced displacement and/or re-settlement happen because the population distribution is screwed, especially in Western Europe where Karli is from. Those states simply do not have the capacity, spatially and financially, to accommodate all the people while the others would be faced with devastating labour shortages. Statecraft is not just about morals, some IR scholars would even argue it's never about morals, you have to do the rationalist calculation. (also sam's speech to the politicians is so.........wrong. it sounds like a 16-year-old wanna-be socialist who spends too much time on leftist tiktok)
Here's the thing, you can agree with the political ideology or not, because it's not about whether it's right or wrong. It's about Sam being a hero who comes from a heavy political background, who represents a set of values that is meant to transcend a single country, advocating that ideology whilst being completely naive about it.
Steve embodies a similar idealism that makes him a hero, but not a leader. He's a leader because he can lead, he assesses the situation, sets a goal, and gives out tasks to achieve that goal. In the show, Sam is not demonstrating effective leadership, although not entirely his fault.
When you have the 'hero' indiscriminatorily endorsing the villain's philosophy, it doesn't mean the hero is empathetic, it means the hero is fucking bullshit. What makes a hero isn't merely stopping bad guys, it's also offering a better alternative even when the villain kinda makes sense. Superheroes are supposed to offer moral lessons through their heroism, which often takes place as they defeat evil. Without that, they're just dudes stopping fights, not heroes fighting for causes. The only moral lesson Sam offers is 'hey maybe radicalization is bad', which is completely ignored by both Karli and Zemo.
Sam's sympathy towards Karli is even more absurd. Even if he agrees with her cause, she's an unrepentant killer. 'Don't call them terrorists.' really, Sam? What would you call them? Just bc the Soviets fought the N@zis doesn't mean they were the good guys.
Furthermore, we see the contrast between her and the other flag smashers. They were invisible victims while her body was gently carried by Sam as phones and cameras were recording. In a show where they tried to make sense of racism, the stark contrast between Karli and the rest of the group happens to be mostly PoC is kinda hilarious.
The problem isn't Sam. It's the terrible horrible writing. You can't take a Watsonian take when it's so obviously a Doylist problem. The show claims to be a lot of things it got wrong is just pathetic.
What about Bucky? His arc is pretty detached from the main storyline and he basically did nothing significant in the show so I don't even know what they want to convey about his heroism. He was literally just running around punching people (not even very good at it too) while being blamed for things he wasn't responsible for. He only told Karli that killing was bad. What a novel lesson. Again, there is nothing from the good guy.
Who is the hero then?
Zemo is the true anti-hero of the show. Throughout the show, Sam and Bucky - the good guys - oppose killing in general, but their method is proven ineffectual and in the end, all Flag Smashers are killed with a majority of them killed after they were lawfully arrested. The Flag Smashers were terrorists, they were the villains, therefore narratively, this makes Zemo's end goal - killing all supersoldiers, in this case, the Flag Smashers - right. His ideology - the desire to become superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideas; supersoldiers cannot be allowed to exist - is positively reflected in the story. His success inevitably justifies his ideology, which stands in contrast to both Sam and Karli. I'm not saying what he did was heroic, but from a storytelling perspective, Zemo is the 'hero' who ultimately eliminated the evil in this superhero trope.
The result is that Sam, the supposed hero of the show, has done nothing. He didn't stop the bad guys, he didn't offer an effective alternative to Karli (or Zemo) practically and ideologically, while Zemo did all that. What does it say about heroism and the idealism that comes with it? That it's nice to talk about but useless when a real battle takes place? That end does justify means? Because that's not what Cap trilogy conveys.
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hotwaterandmilk · 1 year
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I started writing this last week, then my tonsillitis floored me so @bunnymajo beat me with her own post on the topic (it's v. good, check it out!!), but I still wanted to share a few of my thoughts about why y'all should consider picking up the Discotek release of the Kaitou Saint Tail anime series on blu-ray.
I'll be honest, Kaitou Saint Tail wasn't my favourite magical girl series growing up in the mid-90s, I found myself far more drawn to Sailor Moon, Wedding Peach, and Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne (in that order). However, as I've grown older and re-watched the anime series a couple of times, I've grown to appreciate a lot about it that perhaps I didn't so much when I was young and had a million anime series vying for my attention.
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The anime
If you've never seen the Kaitou Saint Tail anime, Haneoka Meimi is regular teenage student by day who rights wrongs by night as the thief Saint Tail. How does she know about what bad things have gone down in the local community? Why her BFF (Mimori Seira) is a nun-in-training, of course! So when Seira hears about things being stolen etc. she relays this information to Meimi so she can set things right.
Complicating the situation is Asuka Daiki, the son of a local detective who notably failed to catch a previous phantom thief (hmm!). Asuka Jr. wants to stop Saint Tail no matter what and luckily the local mayor is cool with giving him the status required to do so. Meimi slowly finds herself torn between how she feels about Asuka Jr. (whom she bickers with but ultimately cares about) and how Asuka Jr. feels about the thief Saint Tail.
So obviously if you like magical girl-type series and you're keen on a cute lil tween romance with some wacky kids' show thieving then you're going to be keen to watch (or read, the manga is adorable) the series no matter what. If you're on the fence, here are a couple of things I found to be stand-outs in Kaitou Saint Tail that you might like about it too.
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Saint Tail = Seira & Meimi
Saint Tail the thief is really a team of two people. You've got Seira who gathers all the intel & helps plan, then you've got Meimi who acts as the muscle and executes the scheme. If you removed either of them you wouldn't have the legendary phantom thief everyone talks about in the series. Seira is never magical herself, she goes between God/Meimi/the community to help save "lost lambs" but her role is vital and Meimi's feats as Saint Tail are truly part of a team effort.
I've honestly always loved this about the series, that Seira isn't some friend kept in the dark nor is she another magical thief to team up with, she's got her own unique role to play that utilises her skills just as much as Meimi's role relies on her talents too. Together they are a phantom bigger than any one tween girl could ever be.
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Meimi is physically adept
There's room for all types of magical girls in the genre imho and these days we've seen lots of magical girls who can land a solid punch as well as those better suited to intellectual challenges. However, in the mid-90s at a time when Tsukino Usagi and Hanasaki Momoko said it was OK to be clumsy and not great at athletics, Meimi said it was just as OK to be athletic and have excellent fine motor skills.
One thing I didn't note in my above summary of the series is that while Meimi does a whole lot of VISUALLY magical girl things like transform in the anime, she doesn't actually have any supernatural abilities. Meimi is instead adept at stage magic thanks to her father's profession and she plays a lot of tricks to get the job done (while following in her mother's footsteps as well). Meimi can't punch a bad guy through a wall like a Precure, but her strength allows her to frequently save other characters or pull herself out of tricky situations.
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Asuka Jr. provides a great contrast
While Asuka Jr. can ride a bike pretty fast he's not that physically strong, which is a contrast to a lot of love interests in the genre who are tough enough to give the heroine enough time to finish the job (Tuxedo Kamen and Limone, for example). Asuka Jr. is more of an intellectual who despite managing to figure out a lot of what's going on with Saint Tail's capers, can never seem to get pin her down (and yeah yeah we know Meimi looks like Saint Tail but this is a cartoon for kids, being in on that while Asuka Jr. goes mad trying to find Saint Tail is part of the overall charm of the thing imho).
I think a decent chunk of what I like about Asuka Jr. as a male lead in Kaitou Saint Tail is that he's not some older, mysterious guy who helps solve problems; Asuka Jr. is a brat who causes most of Meimi's problems and because of his clueless youth he's also quite oblivious to her burgeoning romantic feelings for him. But I love that? They both feel like they're young kids challenging each other on an equal playing field.
While Asuka. Jr doesn't necessarily disagree with Saint Tail's objectives (to right wrongs), he doesn't support her methods (stealing is baaaaaad) and he's following his own moral code which is perhaps a little more conventional than hers. Meimi and Asuka jr. certainly bicker, but they have a lot in common that becomes apparent over time and their differences do indeed prove to be complementary to each other's in the long run.
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The stakes are fairly low
Wait, isn't this a bad thing? Shouldn't the stakes be super high in order for us to care about the series? No, I don't think every magical girl series needs to have high stakes to leave an impact or be meaningful. I love that Kaitou Saint Tail isn't about a potentially world-ending event or magical abilities that could change reality as we know it. Heck, there's an episode where the entire goal of Saint Tail's elaborate scheme is to get back a notebook that a classmate gave to her crush accidentally before he can read it.
In that sense, it harkens back to a lot of older majokko shows that, while having some supernatural gifts for the heroine that Meimi doesn't technically have, still chose to focus on the lead solving personal problems or issues in the local community rather than fighting to save the planet.
This isn't to say there are no stakes at all or anything. Meimi's greatest problem lies in her diverging identities and the fact that, as ostensibly a criminal to those not helped by her talents, Saint Tail being unmasked would ruin her life. I know they're not huge stakes compared to galactic evils, but Saint Tail being an outlaw and the way the persona is both a blessing & curse to Meimi certainly is present throughout the series.
Kaitou Saint Tail's stakes might not be as high as those in Nurse Angel Ririka SOS, Tokyo Mew Mew, or any number of Precure seasons, but there's definitely a place for that in the genre and if you'd like something a little more laid back (that's still plenty of fun & with twists and turns a plenty, mind you) then this series might be worth checking out.
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The anime doesn't overstay its welcome
The Kaitou Saint Tail anime is a fairly tight production that deftly balances fun filler (remember when we were allowed to have filler eps???) with more emotional story touch points and doesn't feel at all drawn out, which was certainly an issue even for some of my favourite series of the period. While I wouldn't say the anime is perfect or anything, it really doesn't have any majorly weak arcs or huge dips in quality overall.
Kaitou Saint Tail has lovely music (I'm partial to the first OP/ED combo myself), some great 90s animators at work (Abe Junko, Ishino Satoshi, Kadonosono Megumi & Gotou Keiji, Watanabe Nobuhiro, Ochi Kazuhiro, Motohashi Hideyuki, etc.), and a cast of talented seiyuu (Sakurai Tomo as Meimi and Inoue Kikuko as Seira being the stand outs).
While there are some changes to the source material and a lot of the cute, whispy beauty of Tachikawa Megumi's original artwork is lost on screen, the animated version of Kaitou Saint Tail is worth picking up not just to support the release of magical girl titles in the US market, but because it is a solid little series that I know I always appreciate spending some time with.
Anyway those are my rambling thoughts on the series. It won't be for everyone, but if you're interested in magical girl classics then you might want to check out the upcoming US release from Discotek on blu-ray.
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utilitycaster · 6 months
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Re: Em Friedman, I personally always got the impression that they're just a big fan is Aabria cuz I think Aabria was one of their first guests(?) in their TTRPG class
And that's why to me all the coverage about Acofaf, WBN and now Burrows End reads with kind of a biased perspective
Like, I love WBN but as you said, it's not really doing anything innovative per se, and the whole coverage and hype about the Bear episode in Burrows End really made it anti-climactic when the episode aired
Idk, maybe I'm wrong, but a lot of the Actual Play coverage from Polygon (not just Em) seems kind of like D20 and WBN circlejerk while they're more than happy to throw CR under the bus
Oh interesting. Like, I do get that Actual Play is not a particularly massive community and I could see how someone who interviews players regularly might end up becoming close to them and generally that maintaining distance and journalistic integrity is uniquely difficult, but also like. Here's the thing. I know Critical Role is The 800 lb Gorilla in the actual play space; no one else is selling out Wembley Arena. I don't mind if they're not getting the same boosts from publications, because they don't really need it and people love an underdog and all that. It's still not great, that this bias exists, but Critical Role is much harder to keep up with because it is at this point 8 years of content to fully know what's going on in Campaign 3, whereas you could have someone binge watch ACOFAF in a long weekend.
What gets me is that it's not just fawning and biased. It's ignorant of the actual play genre and claiming things that are flat out untrue. "Critical Role isn't as good as Dimension 20" is an opinion. I don't agree with it but it's a valid position for someone to have, and even journalists are entitled to preferences. But like, again: TAZ Balance started at level 1, with the party obtaining a legendary and dangerous artifact at a low level, and it started in late 2014. NADDPod campaign 1 also started at level 1 and ran up to level 20, and it began in early 2018.
Longform D&D/Pathfinder are also not new. Both of the examples above ran over 60 episodes; NADDPod's first campaign was an even 100. Rusty Quill Gaming ran an impressive 218 over 8 years, though they tended to stick to about an hour long per episodes so it's closer to NADDPod in actual hours of gameplay. Obviously Critical Role, while unedited and not a podcast primarily, has had 100+ episode campaigns. All of these were also set in homebrew worlds, though TAZ was extremely loosely based on Forgotten Realms to start, and RQG was essentially a divergent history of our world. So what, precisely, other than the Children's Adventure, makes WBN different? Like...I know fandoms struggle to understand this but it does not do anyone a single fucking favor to act like well-executed but traditional formats (or solid but par for the course work) is radical and innovative genius! It doesn't make me say "wow, WBN is clearly groundbreaking." It makes me go "wow, Polygon's coverage is written by a fucking idiot who's unfamiliar with the landscape of actual play."
What gets me about the bear episode is that it was also, in my opinion, very well-executed and an interesting battle, but it was not like, any different from another battle map except that the production team did a really good job making it slightly gorier than the norm. That's it. And as for the twist...look, again, I'm reserving final judgment, but I keep thinking about this (regrettably it is from Orson Scott Card, who is both a homophobic asshole, and also wrote "How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy" which was my introduction to Octavia Butler and genuinely informs my understanding of the genre to this day):
"If you are using a known foreign language, by the way, take the time and effort to get it right. Among your readers there will always be someone who speaks that language like a native. If you get it wrong, those readers lose faith in you - and rightly so. Wherever you can be truthful, you should be truthful; if your readers can see that you're acting by that credo, they'll trust you, and you'll deserve their trust. But if they catch you faking it, and doing it so carelessly that you can easily be caught, they'll figure that if the story wasn't worth much effort to you, it shouldn't be worth much to them, either. They may still like the story, but you have blunted the edge of their passion."
This is both what I'm worried might end up being true re: Burrow's End (except instead of a foreign language I speak like a native, it's How Radiation Works) but it's also true in that like...all of those longform campaigns? I've watched or listened to them in full. Acting like it's innovation to...do a thing that's been done by so many other prominent actual plays is not even reading to me as bias. It's reading to me as a combination of wildly misplaced priorities (genuinely I think between this and the ask meme I'm like "hmmm have we considered that we're asking a huge amount from a niche medium and acting like it is the responsibility of a bunch of actors with dice to constantly reinvent the artform in which they work and dismantle the kyriarchy and prevent us from getting into arguments with our friends, instead of, as WBN's own page says, play games to make stories out of sound?") and also just. Ignorance. This is a person who is talking about something they genuinely don't know about. Why should I listen? I mean the bias doesn't help, but really it's the ignorance that kills it.
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