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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

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[If you need to be mean] chapter 7

You are trying to think about future with Konig TW for the work: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in her early 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective TW for this chapter: kidnapping

Chapter Text

He fixed the sink.

It’s so dumb actually, even to think about it – pun not intended, you are not happy or energetic enough to ever attempt puns right now, not in your drained emotional state. He came to your house, uninvited as always – you thought about giving him a spare key just so he would stop barging inside at every giving moment, but then understood that it would only make matters worse – it would feel like you are inviting him. Like you’re okay with him being here, invading your space just like a foreign soldier he is.

You stare at the sink – and it’s in perfect condition. No water droplets splashing from various screws, no rust on the metal – it looks like it just got out of the store, and it was never that perfect even when you first moved into this apartment.

He didn’t even say anything about it – you don’t even remember him coming to your apartment with a bunch of instruments, with anything that can help a grown-up man burst into the apartment of his so-called girlfriend so he could fix her sink without her knowing.

It’s nice of him, you think. You can wash your hands and brush your teeth without water spilling everywhere, and you don’t have to worry about mold slowly building inside the narrow space of your bathroom. You can even place some of the expensive skin care he bought on the ceramic surface without feeling disgusted every time you touch the white material. You don’t even use that much skincare, you don’t know why he bought it and where he got it. Quite frankly, judging by his ever-cold stare and complete emotional absence of everything connected to the gifts, you think he doesn’t know why he gives you so much either.

Maybe, he thinks that your relationships are purely transactional. Maybe he always wanted a sugar baby but was too busy to get a specific one. Maybe he is so hideous under his hood, that the only way he knows how to get women is through gifts.

You don’t even want to like him, you are always on the receiving end of his affection, almost never initiating anything. He is too hot to handle – not in a good way. Being nice to him feels like being nice to a stray dog - thin, malnourished, that type who would return to you even after a few good kicks in the curb. He is attached to you like hot glue and you can’t get him off without breaking the skin – and you are scared of him almost as much as your body is attracted to him. There is something nice about allowing him to love you – even though you feel like he is simply too fucking damaged to love properly.

But he fixed your sink, he gave you a bunch of gifts and he gently advances over you without feeling overbearing. You don’t know how much you could bear without him wanting to actually put something in you, besides his fingers and various dry-humping sessions but, at least for now, he feels safe.

König leaves you money in places you are not looking at first – almost like he is ashamed of paying you. Acknowledging how artificial your “relationships” are too much for him, but he still wants you to feel the best life possible. He is soft, and gentle with you, almost too much – even though you have various bruises when his grasp became too much on the softness of your limbs.

Dating him – as much as you couldn’t even call it dating, more like receiving his advances and accepting the way he likes you like an obedient dog – made you actually read the news. Carefully watch through the reports, seeing all the accomplishments this small army is receiving here – how mercs are saving you, helping you, being a bunch of fucking saints even though their commander spends too many hours harassing an adorable little civilian in her house, doing nothing but making you hot and bothered and uncomfortable at the same time.

You want him to leave.

You want him to stay here, with you.

He fixed your sink and now you can do your skincare routine with actual time put in. Everything that stands on the white ceramic is bought by him and you would rather throw up than rely so much on someone you don’t really know, but you don’t have a choice. The cafe is closed, and every other job opportunity is either worse or not going to make any difference in your situation – and with how often König shows up, demanding attention and immediate acceptance of his gifts, you don’t want to know what he will do if he finds out you are trying to run away from him again.

You don’t anymore, of course. You’re a smart girl, you’re a good girl, the best ever. You don’t understand your own feelings, nothing you experience feels right, but you do know that having him around is comfortable. It’s nice, really, you want to like him so much, but you are too tired to feel anymore. Luckily, his feelings are intense enough not to demand anything from you – his love is big enough for the two of you.

— Why are you so quiet, Schatz?

He hugs you from behind, hands on your waist pulling you closer to him. He is warm, body temperature is almost unhealthily hot. In full gear, as always, you never ever saw him without it – even when you’re more intimate together, the only thing you can see is either the lower half of his face, scars on his mouth, and clearly shaved jaw with multiple razor cuts, or his dick – and you prefer not to look at it.

— You fixed my sink. When?

Hands are keeping you securely in place, not allowing you to move even for an inch. He isn’t wandering, at least, not leaning under your clothes. You’d feel ashamed for wearing washed-put shorts and some weird T-shirt you pulled out of the laundry, but you don’t want to turn each of his visits into a special occasion, especially considering how chaotic it is. You want to wear that really nice lingerie he brought to you – all soft and expensive fabrics, laces, and too much open skin – but you are too creeped out by the fact that he knows your exact size. At least with homely clothes, you don’t have to worry about being too seductive, too inviting and provocative.

His hands are still squeezing and playing with your tummy. It feels like he relishes in every aspect of your body, no matter how perfect or imperfect it is – and his touches, hungry and almost agonizing in their desperation and greediness, are flattering. You never had anyone so utterly into you – never had any romantic partner who would treat you like their greatest possession. You want to feel like a real person, not just a romantic interest or object of obsession, but…god, his hands are warm and he treats you right and the loneliness of your life is worse than anything you could handle.

— Few days ago. Had free time after a mission.

He has an awful lot of free time for someone his rank. Sometimes he disappears for a few days straight and comes back only to be even more hungry with your body. He never spends the night, but always finds some time to burst into your apartment, look at what else he can change to make your life a bit easier – he broke one of your favorite tea cups and bought you a set of new ones, he threw away every old dish plate you had from the previous tenant and bought you a bunch of shiny silvery ones – things that made you feel even worse about yourself because oh god, why do you need to rely on him to but you the most basic fucking stuff.

— You shouldn’t have done it. I can take care of it.

Your mouth tells lies that even you don’t believe in.

— It was leaking. Wanted to do something nice for you, Liebe.

My love – you read the translations of a few phrases he is using towards you. German is hard and unforgiving, you are screaming at that damn owl for fucking up your pronunciation again as you desperately try to find something to fill your day without a job or worries about money. You are going to the store multiple times a day, buying milk, cookies and salt – all separately, just to do something. It fells like lockdown again, a desperate attempt not to go crazy by being stuck in 4 walls.

You think – this is what drives housewives from American sitcoms to use recreational drugs and too many antidepressants.

König thinks – you look so perfect like this. Almost like his perfect little housewife, hands are clinging to the kitchen counter and eyes desperately darting from side to side. He can practically smell your fear and it makes him go feral – he was a good fucking person, his mutter taight him to be a good boy and his father beated how a real man should behave into him. Yet he relishes in the fact that his weak, fragile girlfriend is shaking in his hold, like a kitten almost. He wants you to feel safe with him, but…well, he can indulge in himself a bit. After all, he does sacrifices everything for his service, right? And deserves a bit of pleasure after a hard day of killing terrorists.

— Thank you, but…please, tell me before you are doing anything in my apartment. I would have just called my landlord.

You wouldn’t because even when all of your rent debts is paid off and you don’t have anything else that you owe to the owner of the apartment, you still don’t have to see her disappointed and angry face. You had this leaking sin for three months already and just started to live around it – it was normal, there was some comfort in that brokenness. Now there isn’t one, and you just feel guilty for being scared of a man just because he probably stole your second set of keys and decided to fix it.

— When we’ll move to our own home, you won’t have to worry about asking permission from some Arschloch. You could change the sink or a couch every other day if you want to.

“When we’ll move to our own home”

Such a simple phrase, really. König’s hands are slowly caressing your lower tummy, his erection already thrists into your ass through the fabric of your shorts and you immediately feel the heat rising in your body. You might not understand if you like him or not, but your body certainly craves his touch – craves the comfort and pleasure that being his provides.

Such a simple phrase that fills you with dread. Living with him, under one roof – living in his country even though you never been to Austria and can barely learn the language. Living with him even though you don’t know what to answer if someone asks you about your relationship.

Such a simple phrase that König wants to turn into reality. You, barefoot because of course he would build a house with floor heating, he won’t have his wife slipping on some slippers while he is away and hurting herself, in the kitchen that he would made for your desires and height – he isn’t much for cooking and if you are not also, he’d search for a housekeeper – looking at some weird Austrian dish that you can made for him when he comes home. Perfect family, just like his mother told him he has to make – just like his father was never able to.

He is a simple man and if you won’t want to play along with his little housewife fantasy then, well, you’d have to eventually. König hates the thought of hurting you – but he also hates a lot of things about himself and a bit of pain won’t add to much. He could handle you being upset, easily. He could handle whatever you’d throw at him – literally.

— I don’t think I can move in with you.

— Why?

— I’m not even Austrian. Don’t think I can just go and live in your country like this.

— You can get a visa through marriage. It would be easy, soldiers have privileges.

He still was a part of Austrian special forces – even if his service was long ago paid to KorTac, it doesn’t mean that he just gave away all of his documents and privileges that it gave him. There are a bit of things he can do without looking at the law too much – and giving you proper citizenship is one of them.

Of course, it would also mean you can’t possibly leave him without destroying your new life once again, but…he likes it as a feature. Insurance that you won’t just run away as soon as the opportunity strikes.

— Marriage is too fast, no? I mean…

— You don’t want to be with me! — No. Yes. I…I mean, we can’t get married right now.

— We are not doing it right now, Schatz. I still yet to find a good ring around here.

— I don’t want a ring. I…I can’t marry you, even in a couple of months! We barely know each other, we…we talked about it, you promised that we would go slow…

Oh.

And now you’re crying in his hold, tears smearing your face as you are trying to make him let go of you. He can’t have that, he won’t have that – he just got out of his office. countless hours spent in searching for the biggest hideout in this city. Horangi fed him with reports of various sightings, Hutch is already halfway on breaking another data package they got from the last mission and, if anything, it felt like another week or two in here – and he could finally get that sweet, sweet leave.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t had any breaks in a year already – only a week when he got shot in the side and spent a couple of days laying in the medical, still screaming at the recruits for being so fucking unprofessional – so much, in fact, that he had to get out of the bed early and spend two weeks as an instructor for any of those useless fuckers. Maybe, after this mission, he could take a month or so off – just so he could spend more time with you. Honeymoon and a future wedding do sound fun if he could make you come around before the end of his deployment here. He wouldn’t want to kidnap his future wife like some asshole, after all.

— How slow do you want me to go, meine Mädchen?

There isn’t a right answer to this question. He doesn’t ask whether or not you even want to marry him – just when. Your perfect answer would be no, I don’t know, give me a break and let me figure myself out for at least a dozen months so you could come to your senses and move to some distant country on the other side of the globe.

But he holds you close, his erection is mere inches away from penetrating your body – he is grinding into your ass shamelessly, using the softness of your thighs as his own sex toy – and your mind becomes dizzy. Every time he touches you, his fingers trail on your delicate skin, and you feel dumb. No thought, head empty, only desire to back your hips against his crotch and move a little.

— I don’t know. Just not…not like this.

— Then like what? How long should I wait?

A month won’t be enough.

Even half a year won’t be enough to process your feelings.

— I don’t know.

You want to say yes, but you don’t want to be the one to decide. Having responsibility is too much, and being the one in charge of yourself isn’t something you really want. Maybe, you should just agree. Maybe, you don’t have enough energy to process this.

— We don’t have much time here, Liebe. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…

His hands are gripping you even closer – his fingers are shaking almost, and you’re scared of seeing this man being so weak for you, but there isn’t anything you can do to help him. Your fingers are softly caressing his – you doubt that he can feel much under his gloves, but you want to be at least attentive. You don’t want him to feel bad, to think that you are ungrateful for everything he has done to help you. Maybe you’re afraid of making him mad – or, maybe, you want him to be closer to you. Maybe, you want him to like you more. Maybe…

— I will probably be there for another week or two. Mission will be over sooner than we thought.

— You will leave?

König wants to lie to himself that you feel sad about it. He can hear the pain in your voice, the way your fingers are shaking on top of his. He hates being weak, scared, he purged everything that was liable in his body before he even became the colonel – but he stays here, in this run-down kitchen corner of your apartment, looks at your delicate body in his hands and feels weak.

Not that you will say no, that you can run away. He is terrified of himself because he knows that he won’t take no for an answer. He will get you out of here, haul you on his shoulder like some sort of trophy, and make you his no matter the kicking and screaming he will receive. And he doesn’t want to let himself go around you – to lose control.

— Not without you.

— I don’t want to leave.

He squeezes your waist one more time, letting go of your body. He can be patient – he needs to concentrate on the mission at hand anyway, not being all lovey and romantic with you. He may give you space – a few centimeters at best, maybe, if you would a good girl and give him everything he asks for.

— You can have a week to think. But I will be back, verstehen?

You nod and he turns your head to the side, kissing you. He has to lean down to reach your lips, he is too fucking desperate to taste you on his tongue when he moves it further down your throat. It’s sloppy, unexperienced, the technique is basically non-existent but you clung to the counter and moan as he slides his hands down your shorts, finding your center. It’s moist, slippery, welcoming two of his fingers with ease – and then he withdraws it immediately.

You whine when he stops moving, and your pussy is clenching around nothing when he chuckles. You’re weak, fragile, desperate and delicate – he isn’t used to handling stuff like you, but he will make sure to find all the bubble wrap in the world to use on you. He’ll be your perfect husband – if only you would give him a chance.

— Gather your things, lamm. Don’t bring too much, you’ll find better things in Austria.

— But…

— You’ll like it, I promise. Do you trust me?

— N…no.

— You will.

He leaves you in your apartment after a few minutes of just…looking at you. Eyes wandering on your shaking body, fear and desire mixing on your face – he is soft with you, but you know that this softness comes with a responsibility that you could not handle.

You went to the bathroom to wash your face and calm down a little bit – everything in your body begged you to run after him and scream for him to take you right here and then – and you look at the sink. That fucking sink.

*** Maybe, you shouldn’t have had this conversation with him so late in the evening – you decided to go out of your apartment to clean your head.

Maybe, he shouldn’t have fixed your sink because when you didn’t have to think about problems in your apartment, you actually had time and energy to go out at night again.

Maybe, he shouldn’t have left you here is such disarray – maybe, if you had actually fuck that night, you wouldn’t have the strength to venture into creepy alleys and pass through crowds of weird, scary people.

Maybe…

— Stand right here, missy.

— Saw you with that asshole in the hood a while ago. How does it feel to betray your country?

— I thought our women knew better than whoring themselves with foreign scum.

— She can have him to come to us.

— Think he would come to get his slut?

— He’d have to. All hostages are good in our situation.

Maybe, if you won’t tell him to at least wait before making you his, you wouldn’t get into the hands of terrorists that he was supposed to fight.

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #yandere konig #yandere male

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katakaluptastrophy · 10 months

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John Gaius' commitment to a certain aesthetic for his space empire is...certainly something...

They are using fountain pens on spaceships. Fountain pens. To the extent that every vaguely intellectual character (other than Abigail Pent, who is repeatedly described as "neat" and "immaculate") is constantly described as having ink stains on their hands and even faces, and the smell of ink is referenced repeatedly.

And when they're not writing with fountain pens, they're using necromantically stabilised blood (this isn't just a Harrow quirk - the Sixth have special spikes on their clipboards for signing documents...).

Amongst the Lyctoral traces Abigail finds in the library at Cannan House are "a warped automatic pen with a thin inner cylinder of ink and a plex casing, rather more antiquated than one with an ink cartridge."

It also seems reasonable to assume that the "clockworks" they wear are analogue watches, as Nona scolds Cam for referring to her beeping digital watch as a "clockwork" on New Rho.

And besides the fountain pens, regency navy uniforms, swords, and general 20th century pulp literature culture, a few more things that characters specifically describe as antique or ancient include:

Sunglasses

Metal industrial shelving

Paper books with glossy pages

Black tie formal wear

Automatic doors

LED lights

Chrome kitchen fittings

Guns (to the extent that Abigail specifically says to the Sleeper "you come bearing ancient weapons")

And fine, these are all within the realms of things people are reasonably allowed to have a personal preference against...

But you know what else the Nine Houses don't have?

VACCINES.

What was the thought process by which Dr Science and Humanitarian Empathy decided to bring back routine childhood illnesses from the 1950s?

Speaking of the 1950s, why - in a society that appears to find permanently magically manipulating the bodies of living people trivial - does the standard of eyecare seem to also be from the early 20th century?

As a glasses wearer, I totally appreciate that there may simply be a social preference for glasses despite the existence of flesh magic. But Abigail Pent swapping between two pairs of glasses would seem to suggest that varifocals went the way of the mumps vaccine...

And our perspective on this is entirely from some of the most privileged people in the Dominicus system.

#Missing scene: Cam has to explain why Nona missed her routine childhood vaccinations.#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: This time, it's different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. At this point he’s stopped lying to himself – Joel’s here to see you. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: some angst, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts and actions (but no smut -- as always, dm if you want specifics), divorce mention. a/n: The next few weeks of my life will be insane (and NOT just because succession is coming back). I want to keep updating this, but something's gotta give, because the way I've been writing is not sustainable unfortunately. So updates may end up being shorter and the fic having more parts, or updates might be less frequent with longer parts. Also, a question for my loyal readers: Do you make your shirley temples with ginger ale or with Sprite/7up? Because I came from a sprite/7UP family but once i discovered ginger ale instead i was HOOKED. So i am a Ginger Ale Shirley Temple Truther.

-May 5, 2003-

Please pick up, please pick up, you cross your arms in front of you, looking over your shoulder. The pointed toe of your heels clacks against the asphalt as you tap it repeatedly, a steady beat. You have no reason to be so nervous, right now. It must have something to do with who you are calling, not just why.

“Hello?” the droning ring is interrupted by a voice that sounds skeptical, they don’t recognize your number.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Hey, you,” his tone evens out when he hears you say his name. He had given you his cell phone number a few weeks back, the night he’d caught you smoking on your back porch. In case I’m not home and something’s goin’ on with Sarah, he’d said. It made sense, though all it did was tempt you to call him many times before this, and not about Sarah. You were worried because…maybe this was out of line.

There’s noises in the background that threaten to drown Joel out – saws and various power tools whirring, a jackhammer, men calling out to each other. It’s loud. At your job, you close the door to your office if someone is typing too loud on their keyboard. “I uh- I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hear a door shut in response, and the noise fades to a low purr. “Not at all. Everything okay? Sarah alright?”

“Yeah, this isn’t about her, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“It depends,” In your mind, right now he’s leaning against a messy metal desk, one of his hands planted on its surface to keep himself stable, the muscles in his forearm flexing under tension. He’s got a toolbelt slung low over the waistband of his Carhartt’s. He’s a little sweaty – it’s hot out, today – his cheeks flushed, pieces of dark hair clinging to his forehead. The image is doing something for you, and you have to take a deep, measured breath to reset before you can answer him.

“Do you…know anything about cars?” you ask.

“A little….why?”

“I took my car to get serviced, and…I’m pretty sure I’m about to be swindled.” You hesitate, then qualify. “I didn’t have anyone else to call, and…you seem like you might be good with this sort of thing.”

There are a lot of things you know a lot about, and cars are just not one of them. From your perspective, a car is simply a means to get from Point A to Point B, and the less you know about the how, the better. Although your complete lack of understanding definitely doesn’t help you in your current situation. You’d considered calling your brother, and even your father – but you knew they’d be no help, having lived in Manhattan their whole lives.

Bradley had a nice car, but you suspected it was more for his image, and less because he knew anything about them. Plus, you didn’t really ask for much of each other outside of sex – and if you started too, it might initiate another talk about where you ‘see him in your future’, and the thought alone is grating, because you don’t.

Since you moved away from home, you’ve spent a lot of time asserting to yourself that you’re completely independent. But moments like this remind you that it’s not entirely true…it’s not possible to be on your own in the way you want, and you always end up needing someone.

“I might be able to help.” Joel sounds unconcerned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“They just told me my car needs a new battery, and I need new tires.”

“How old are they?”

“I don’t know like-” your phone vibrates furiously in your hand, an incoming call from your coworker. “Oh my god, leave me alone,” you groan out loud. “-Not you, Joel, sorry. I stepped away for lunch and…you know how it goes. Anyways, I don’t think I’ve gotten either of them changed since I got my car.”

“How old is your car?”

“Seven years.”

“Good lord,” Joel mutters, and he sounds somewhat disappointed. “Yeah, you should get both those things.”

“They weren’t lying? It’s gonna cost a couple hundred bucks.”

“No, I doubt they were,” he gives a warm chuckle, and it melts away some of your stress, even if your wallet is about to take a considerable hit. “Where’d you take your car?”

“I don’t know, just…some place around the corner from where I work.”

“In the future, you should go to Robert’s place in town. He’s done some work on my truck. Probably will cost a lot less.”

“Noted,” you nod. “Thanks so much, sorry for catching you at work.”

“Not at all, I don’t mind…” Joe answers. “Shipments keep getting delayed, so…it’s been kind of a slow day.”

“I’m jealous,” you say. “Because I swear, lately, whenever I leave the office for more than two minutes everything explodes….or at least it feels that way.”

“Sounds like you’re important,” Joel says, you can hear his smile over the phone, see it, practically.

Scoffing, you answer. “Hardly. But uh, thanks again. I definitely owe you one.”

You expect him to say goodbye, so you’re surprised by what he asks next. “What are you doing Friday?”

“I don’t know. What are you doing Friday?”

“I’m assumin’ Sarah’s probably left something at your place….if you’re gonna be around, I might stop by to get it….”

“You want me to smoke you up?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant,” You’re direct.

“Look, I’m just sayin’ if it happens, I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I already told you, you’re welcome anytime,” you say. “But won’t Sarah-oh wait, no, she has that school dance, doesn’t she?”

Sarah had taken to writing important events in her life on the calendar that hung on your fridge. It was usually blank, you were good enough at remembering your own plans without utilizing it. But she had told you the empty calendar made her sad, so now it was filled with her doodles and notes, scribbled with blue glitter gel pen. And Friday night’s event she’d underlined three times.

“She does,” Joel answers, seemingly amused.

Another call comes through on your phone. “Okay, yeah, I gotta go. But I’ll be around Friday.”

“Then maybe I’ll stop by,” Joel says, and you ignore the flash of heat through your abdomen – excitement – at the idea of him coming over. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 9, 2003-

Joel arrives at your place before the sun sets, once again. But this time, it is different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. Of course, he’s got his excuse, but really, at this point he’s stopped lying to himself – he’s here to see you.

“Well, well, well…” you open the screen door, lean against the doorframe, and cross your arms over your chest. “If it isn’t the neighborhood space cowboy.”

“You’re one to talk.”

You squint at him, but the way the corner of your mouth quirks gives you away. “Touche.”

God, he’s already regretting this. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. But it’s become increasingly difficult to resist you, and that’s assuming that you’re even interested. He’s all-but kissed you and he’s still not quite sure where he stands. You’re not easy to read, but he has always enjoyed a challenge. At the end of the day it’s never a bad idea for him to brush up on his flirting, Tommy’s words from a few weeks ago have been getting to him. For much as he believes it’s bound to happen, Joel doesn’t want to end up alone.

“Come on in,” you push yourself off the doorframe and lead him through your house.

The last time he’d been here you’d been wearing some long-sleeved, satin pajama set. He remembered because he spent all night trying not to touch the fabric, though maybe he was just looking for an excuse to touch you. Tonight, with your back turned towards him, his eyes wander down to the curve of your ass in your low-rise, bootcut jeans. He feels the slightest bit of shame about doing it, before deciding that what you can’t see won’t hurt you.

“How was the mechanic?” he asks once you’ve entered the back porch.

“Oh fine,” you say, sitting down on the couch, gesturing to the spot across from you. “I’m just pissed I had to spend a bunch of money on a car battery and not something more…fun.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Joel sits. “Honestly, I’m surprised you called me from the mechanic and not from a ditch on the side of the road.”

“This is my first car, Joel. I grew up in a walkable community,” you pick up an already-rolled joint, the faintest acknowledgement that you’d planned for this ahead of time – and lift it to your lips.

“It’s okay, I’m teasing.” Joel assures, and lets his gaze linger while you smoke, just admiring, as he often does. When you pass the joint over to him, he speaks again. “I have to be good tonight, cause Sarah’s gonna be home in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, first school dance, big deal,” you raise your eyebrows. “Help me out, because I went to an all-girls school. It’s middle school. Do kids go with dates?”

Joel shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Sarah just went with a group of friends.”

“That makes sense,” you nod. “Speaking of, I have to be good, too. I’m going to her soccer game tomorrow.”

Joel feels his brows knit together in confusion, and it causes you to continue on. “She keeps asking me to come to one, and I haven’t been able to, so I feel bad. I guess her season’s almost over.”

“Tomorrow’s her last game…” Joel mutters, looking up towards the ceiling, where the smoke is collecting, and exhales. “But you know you don’t have to do that.”

“Obviously, but…” you shrug. “...I want to.”

He chuckles to himself, runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower he took before this. “You’re really prepared to put yourself through a middle school soccer game…”

“Look, Joel,” Your eyes are half-lidded, focused on him, and your arm is slung over the back of the couch, fist supporting your temple. “In case you couldn’t tell…I’m doing this thing where I try to engage in the community I live in. But so far, your family members are the only ones who’ve included me in anything, so until I find someone else….” you trail off. “You’re stuck with me.”

Joel doesn’t want you to find someone else. Being stuck with you is hardly a problem. He wants to tell you, but instead, all he manages is: “We’ll be good tonight.” Still, he’s not entirely convinced that he can trust himself to make a promise like that.

It’s a tad too early for the sun to be setting, but it’s early in May, so the weather is perfect, and he’s sort of itching to be outside. Maybe there’s something to be done before the light wanes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks you.

You seem taken aback by his request, wrinkling your nose.”….I don’t know.”

“It’s a nice night, you might enjoy yourself. And we’re in good company.”

The grimace on your face disappears, and is replaced by something more amiable. “We are,” you tilt your, make a decision. “Yeah, okay…let’s do it.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once you’ve locked your front door, closed your windows, Joel walks side-by-side with you down your driveway. You only make it about halfway down when you’re both interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name, then his.

Your next-door neighbor, Denise Watson, leans over the railing of her front porch, while her husband John sits in a chair behind her, giving a lazy wave and returning back to his puzzlebook. Joel nods at him, and notices the color has drained out of your face. The Watsons have lived on this street since before even Joel and Sarah moved in. They’re in their late 60s, retired, all their children grown – which gives them plenty of time to get into everyone’s business.

“Hey,” you offer the most unenthusiastic greeting he thinks he’s ever heard. You’re paranoid, and he’d laugh if it were just the two of you, alone. But it’s not, and he knows these just so happen to be neighbors you’ve been lying to.

“How are you doing, hun?”

“I’m good,” you say softly, and Joel watches Denise’s eyes flick over his direction.

“Same here,” he manages.

“What are you ya’ll up to?”

“We’re just goin’ for a walk,” Joel answers, looking your way. You nod at him, wordlessly, then at Denise.

“How lovely.” She smiles, and it’s sincere, so he knows she doesn’t suspect anything. “It’s nice to see you two getting along so well.” Even from where he’s standing, Joel sees her eyebrows lift suggestively.

You and Joel both answer the insinuation at the same time.

“Yeah, well-”

“She looks after Sarah for me, so-”

You bob your head enthusiastically. “Mhm, yeah. Sarah. Great kid.”

Denise opens her mouth again, and you speak so quickly, Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you’re afraid of what she’s going to say next. “We gotta go,” you shuffle backwards a few steps, quickly, and collide with Joel’s chest. “Before it gets dark out,” when you turn, you’re looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Oh, alright,” Denise says, sounding a little disappointed. “Ya’ll stay safe, alright?”

“Of course,” Joel calls over his shoulder, managing a halfhearted wave before he’s trailing you around the bend in the cul-de-sac that takes you out of view from The Watsons porch.

The second you’ve made it you whirl to face him, your jaw drops, and you both erupt into laughter. You grip his bicep and lean into him, pressing your face into the cotton of his t-shirt to stifle the noise. He’s tempted to pull you under his arm all the way, but he resists the urge. Would that be okay? He’s not sure. And he’s not necessarily in the best headspace to make the decision.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, swiping under your eyes as you pull back, and start walking a few steps ahead of him.

“It’s like I’m back in high school,” Joel says. Neither of you decide to mention what your neighbor had insinuated, but it is objectively funny.

“Oh, I’m sure you were trouble.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel says. “Although I did sneak out quite a bit. But it was only to see girls – well, one girl.”

“Sarah’s mom?” you ask.

“Yeah.” Joel isn’t sure why he’s mentioned it. It’s not really something he’s interested in speaking on now – or ever – for that matter, even if every person he’s mentioned it to has questions. What happened? What did you do? You poor thing. Above all else, he hated being pitied.

But you don’t press him, and change the subject. “So…a few weeks ago you had said you and Tommy had a work project you were gonna book. Did that pan out?”

Joel cocks his head, surprised you remembered. “Actually, it did. Funny you ask. Things moved slow but…we signed the contract today. I’m sort of celebrating.”

“Congratulations,” you look over your shoulder slightly to give him a genuine grin. “But uh…you should’ve told me. Had I known we were celebrating, I would’ve tried to make things more exciting.”

“Can’t think of anything better.”

You pause, because you’ve reached the end of your cul-de-sac. “Suit yourself.” you say. “Are you gonna lead though? I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” Joel expects some kind of quip in response, but you just shake your head and narrow your eyes. Tucking your hair behind your ears, he senses a bit of uneasiness. “You alright?”

“I’m fine I just…” you shake your head. “I don’t love being stoned in public.”

“You’re alright.” Joel puts his hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to fall into step beside him. “Come on, darlin’, just walk with me.” It’s terrible how easily the term of endearment slips out – and he waits for your reaction. But all he feels is the way your body loosens under his touch.

That brings him some satisfaction, but as usual, it’s not enough. Because if you’re not going to stop him, he longs to push the hair off your neck, kiss along your pulse point, feel you melt even further as his thumbs work at the muscles in your shoulders. Joel fantasizes about what his name might sound like, coming from you, in a breathless sigh. The image works him up a little too much, and he lets his hand fall back to his side.

For a while, you both walk in silence, your fingers brushing against his every so often, but neither of you acknowledge it, apologize, or decide to step further away from each other to keep it from happening again and again.

It’s a beautiful night, the warmth of the day dwindling under the blanket of thinning clouds tinted pink in the sunset. Joel is amazed at how content he feels, can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way – not worried about someone, or something, or letting anyone down.

It’s May, so almost all the native flowers are in full bloom. Tulips planted in gardens, pansies overflowing from pots on porches, dandelions dotting pristine green lawns. Stepping away from Joel, you pause in front of an empty, overgrown lot that’s basically turned into a wildflower patch.

“This is nice,” you say, decidedly. “It’s pretty.”

“I told you.”

Once more, he expects some clever retort, but your eyebrows are pinched together, and you crouch to look closely at some bluebonnets that are the same color as the tight-fitting henley you’ve got on. “I know you mentioned it back there but… Sarah’s told me…about her mom.”

Joel feels himself stiffen. “Yeah….well, she never really got to know her.”

When he’s feeling particularly remorseful, his brain replays a memory of Sarah, only four years old, toddling around the tiny apartment they lived in and calling out for her mother. His ex had left when she was so young, so he had known there was no way Sarah actually remembered her. But all her classmates had two parents, all the movies she watched at home depicted loving, complete families. That night, after tucking her in, he’d retreated to his room, and cried for the first time since his divorce. Ever since then, it was impossible to shake the feeling he wouldn’t be enough.

Sometimes, he felt better about it then others. Sarah grew out of that phase, and Joel thought that’d be the last of it. When he finally bought the house, he felt like he’d proven he could do it alone. They would be fine. That was until Joel found an old photo of him and his ex underneath Sarah’s pillow while he was changing her sheets. The discovery left him with the same feeling all over again.

Now, in the wake of the excitement that he’s signed onto his first real contracting gig, a promotion, a raise – this information from you deflates him all over again.

“You don’t like to talk about it?” you guess correctly.

“Not particularly.” Normally, Joel would shut something like this down. But he can’t bring himself to be cruel to you. “We were young. What happened was for the best. I wish Sarah understood that.”

“You don’t give her enough credit. She’s a bright kid,” you answer, standing up and putting your hands on your hips. “Anyways, I get it. When you cut yourself off from a bad situation, it's hard. The alternative is worse, though. People forget that part.”

Joel feels a little reassured by what you’re saying. Why he immediately went on the defense when you brought it up, he’ll explore later. “I wish more people understood,” he murmurs.

“Me too,” you nod, and you nudge him gently to keep walking. “And people process things differently. It makes sense she's curious. It’s a very human thing.”

“I know.” What was it that you had said a few weeks back? They’re always with you, no matter what. That’s not a sentiment Joel can completely wrap his head around yet. “It does make me think sometimes…maybe she needs some else….someone who isn't…me.””

“Oh, come on, Joel,” you halt in your tracks, almost like he’s offended you in some way. You look up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re a good man.”

Validation. He doesn’t get it often – ever, really. And he doesn’t need it, but….coming from you, he feels like he just wants more. And more. He can think of a few ways he might get it, too. Some less innocent than others.

“Should we turn around?” he asks. You nod.

There’s a bit of light still remaining in the sky by the time you round the corner to Joel’s street, but the sun has set long ago. He’s probably supposed to say goodbye, standing at the end of your respective driveways, but he finds that end to the evening rather disappointing.

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about right now?” you ask, Joel. He’s a little hesitant to answer, based on the ornery glint in your eyes. All he has to do is raise his eyebrows, and you continue. “A shirley temple.”

Joel can’t help but laugh, and he sees how you light up at the sound. “You serious?” he asks.

“I know they’re….for kids, but…I don’t know. They’re really fucking good.”

“They are,” he answers, and you’re at the end of your driveway. He hesitates for a second, thinks you might say goodbye, but you just check over your shoulder to make sure he’s following you. He does.

“This is probably the weed talking, but I’m going to make some.” You unlock your front door, and he holds it open to let you step inside, before following.

“You have the stuff to make them?” he questions.

Yes, you bob your head, then walk to the corner of your front room and flick on a light. Warm light floods the room, and you walk through the archway into your kitchen. When he follows you there, your back is towards him, opening a glass-doored cabinet containing various liquor bottles, wines, cordials, and accoutrements.

“You want one? I have to say, I’ve been making them a lot lately, and I think I’ve perfected the recipe.”

“Well in that case, I’ve gotta try,” Joel wanders to your small kitchen table, about a quarter of it covered in neat piles of paperwork. There’s a messenger bag slung over the back of a chair, and in front of it is there’s a thick contract. The page it’s opened to is riddled with blue ink, crossing through sentences, scribbled in the paper’s margins. He can’t make out any of the jargon in the fine print. Next to it sits a pair of thin black reading glasses, and a sleek fountain pen engraved with your name.

His eyes fall next to a stack of old photographs sitting atop an opened envelope. With two fingers, he pushes the top photo off the stack, once, twice, three times, until he gets to the bottom of the pile, and they’re spread out in front of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be snooping like this, but his curiosity is getting the best of him.

Joel doesn’t recognize the people in most of the photos. One of them is a school photo of a young boy, with Spring ‘03 printed in the lower right hand corner. But the remaining two…he realizes are of you, but you’re young, your cheeks rounder, features not quite as defined. Younger than Sarah, if he had to guess. In both, you’re wearing the same thing – a black turtleneck, a plaid skirt that hangs past your knees, and black Mary Janes.

In one, you’re cheek to cheek with a teenage boy who you’re giving bunny ears. Your brother. Has to be. You look too similar. His arm is across your shoulders, and you’re smiling so wide your eyes are closed.

In the other photo, though, your face is blank. A wide, empty stare, straight into the camera. Behind you, his hands on your shoulders, is an older man whose gaze has the same determined set Joel has seen on you before. Something about the photo, the haunted look on your face, makes him feel like he’s seen something he’s not supposed to, and he slides the print underneath a stack of papers.

“If you’re gonna look at those papers, I’m gonna need you to sign an NDA,” you say over his shoulder, and Joel is startled by the sound of your voice, and the feeling of a glass, cold and damp with condensation, being placed in his hand. “Here.”

You peer around his shoulder, face brushing against the side of his arm as you see the photos. “Oh,” your voice drops slightly when you realize what he’s looking at. “My brother sent those. That’s my nephew, Ethan.” You point to the school photo of the little kid, but don’t offer an explanation for any of the others.

Joel clinks his glass with yours and notices that you’ve balanced a toothpick with two maraschino cherries on its rim. It’s refreshing, delicious, and the fizz tickles his nose as he takes the first sip.

“Restaurant quality,” he tells you. You lean back against your counter, studying him. When you stare at him like this, as he’s caught you doing a handful of times before, it always makes him feel feral. Like some kind of animal, the way he has to hold himself back from pouncing. You look at him like there’s no one else around, and yeah, there’s no one else around right now, but even when you’re in public, you’ve done it, too. And he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop – he doesn’t really want to. “How’d you perfect the recipe?” he asks.

“Practice,” you glance at the bubbles dancing through the ice in your glass before focusing back on him, sheepish. “Sarah likes them.”

So you’ve made them for her. Joel sits his drink down. “She does.”

“Are you hungry?” you ask. “I think I need a snack or something.”

“You don’t have any ice cream, do you?”

“Uhhh…check the freezer?” you say over your shoulder, rummaging through your cabinets for a bowl, and Joel rises to do so. “I think I only have coffee-flavored, though.”

“Good choice,” he answers. His favorite.When he opens the freezer, he’s met with a blast of cool air, a cloud of steam.

“You have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” you tease, coming to stand next to him, but Joel is too focused on the box of orange popsicles he sees in front of him, and pulls them out to look at the box. “You like these?”

“Not really. I’m partial to cherry.”

“Sarah loves these,” he remarks.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t buy them for her anymore, because one time she ate twelve in one day.”

You sniff, grin. “She told me that.”

He studies the drink that you’ve set on your countertop, the box in his hand. “So you bought these for her?”

“Yeah, why?” you cross your arms, almost defensively.

“Are any of the other snacks here just for her?”

“...No,” he can tell you’re lying, and your eyes flick over his shoulder for a second. “Don’t look in that cabinet, though.”

Joel can’t help the incredulous smile that breaks out over his face. “God, no wonder she’s always over here so much. You’re givin’ her all the junk I don’t let her eat, aren’t you?”

You hold your hands up. “I think she deserves to be comfortable here. Do you want her to starve?”

Joel’s sure he’s staring at you slack-jawed. Not because he’s upset with you, no. It’s quite the opposite. He shakes his head, grins, and starts laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” but you’re giggling, too. “It’s not funny.” You reach to swat at him playfully, and something inside him snaps.

Joel is sick of coming up with excuses to see you. He’s sick of holding you at arms length. He’s sick of not taking what he wants to. He’s sick of pretending he hasn’t thought about you every single day since he first saw you, standing in this very kitchen, leaning over the island and chatting with Sarah. He wants to walk in your front door and know that he can have you however he likes, that he’s allowed to. He realizes if he doesn’t act, he’ll never find out. It’ll eat him alive.

So before you can make contact, he wraps his hand around your wrist, draws you in closer. It catches you off guard, sure, but your eyes are locked, and he sees that you’re not shaken in the slightest.

“You know,” he says. “You’re nicer than you think.”

The energy in the room has shifted. But it doesn’t seem to phase you, and when he’s this close, he can study every freckle on your face, the color of your eyes – can remind himself, again, though he hardly has to – just how beautiful you are. You lower your arm, and at first – he panics, thinks that you might be pulling away. He’s read it wrong, all wrong. But all your doing is giving yourself a better angle to grip his wrist in kind, hand clasping over his broken watch.

“Keep it to yourself, Joel.” you whisper. And it's supposed to be a joke, but you can't seem to tear your gaze off his lips. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I will.”

Joel kisses you. Hard. It’s like a dam breaking, every time he’s held himself back from you comes barreling forward, and it’s all right there. Everywhere. Overwhelming. But he can't stop. He moves with purpose, cupping your chin. He winds his other arm around your waist, crushing you against him. You taste sweeter than he’d imagined, cherry-flavored syrup lingering on your lips. You groan against him, your head tilting back as he moves in closer, jaw relaxing, lips parting.

It’s just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth, to continue to explore, to claim. The things he’s going to do to you…It could be the weed, but every nerve in his body is on high alert – his skin scorches in the wake of your hands raking up his biceps, tangling in his unruly waves. It could be the weed, or it could just be that good.

More, he wants more, and he’s crowding you back towards the counter next to the fridge. Somewhere, distantly, he hears the freezer door fall closed – and probably not all the way – the ice cream long since forgotten. The moment your back hits the granite, you pull away with a ragged inhale, only enough to look him in the eyes.

“Took you long enough,” One of your hands rises to his face.

Joel presses his cheek into the warmth of your palm. “I thought it might be better to keep you waiting.”

You only shake your head, pulling him back into the kiss. He shifts his weight to hook his hands behind your knees and lift you onto the counter. It’s a bit overzealous, and your head bumps the cabinet behind you, but you don’t seem to notice. Both your legs hook around his hips, drawing him in further. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on just from kissing someone – not even for that long – but it’s just so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.

But, he’s capable of one rational thought. This can’t be how it happens. You’re worth more than an animalistic fuck on a kitchen countertop. There’s so much more he wants to do that can’t be done here, like this. And…it’s you. You deserve better, although the frustrated noise you let out when he draws back indicates you think the opposite. Another time.

“I’m sor-I-we can’t,” Joel manages.

Your face drops, you look….almost angry at him. The second he sees it, he realizes what he said was all wrong. “No, I mean we can, we can, just not….not now.”

The anger dissipates, you shift back, but reach out, pushing a piece of stray hair off his forehead and running your thumb along his sharp jawline. “Why not?”

“I just…I didn’t-” he shakes his head and looks down. “I’ve wanted this for awhile now, but….this isn’t…I wasn’t expecting-” Fucking spit it out, you dipshit. “Can I take you out or something first?”

You don’t answer, just shift forward, your forehead bumping into his chest. Joel he brings his arms around your shoulders despite himself. And then your lips are on his neck, teeth scraping, teasing, working up to his ear, where you whisper. “You don’t have to.”

He fucking has you. He could. So easily. “I want to.”

You pull back, and there’s a split second where he swears you look a little ashamed, and then it vanishes. “You are a romantic.”

“Not entirely…” Joel says. “I just…would rather do things right. For someone I like.”

“Someone you like?”

“Yes.” Obviously.

“Okay, yeah,” you murmur softly. “I would like that.”

“Next weekend?”

“That long?”

He chuckles. “It’ll be worth the wait.” But you don’t seem convinced. “I promise.”

For a split second his eyes flick over your shoulder to the microwave, and he sees what time it is. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. It’s late. Sarah’s gonna be home any minute and if I’m not home-” he pauses, gestures between you. “We shouldn’t uh…we shouldn’t mention this to her. Not for now, at least.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it,” you shake your head in agreement.

Joel leans in to kiss you again. This time, he keeps it slow, tender, lingering. Even though he knows he’ll get to see you again, he still finds it hard to tear himself away.

----

part v

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#but WILL he get to see her again?????#*vine boom sound effect*#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us writing #tlou #tlou writing #pedro pascal #troy baker #texas sun

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graceofagodswrath · 7 months

Note

Ok ok ok your "Humans of Transformers franchise are space orcs" rant is out of this world.

I detest with passion when humans are reduced to pets and plot devices when instead the story could be about two alien species finding one another equally amazing/terrifying for their own respective reasons.

Here is my question: do humans and Cybertronians see how eerily similar they are? They have love of music, familial relationships, similar urban infrastructure, societal structure, financial systems, competitive entertainment, organized societies and war, colonialism, recreational intercourse, marriage...

Not to mention, why was it never addressed how similar both species look: bipedal, waists, noses, cheekbones, 5 fingers, chins, facial expressions and sense of aesthetics and beauty? Sure, humans have hair but in rather strategic places.

Veins and wires, blood and energon, metal and flesh, nanobytes and blood cells, Sparks and brain impulses, sexual organs...

Imagine Autobots arrive on Earth for the first time expecting some primitive cave-dwellers, only to encounter a less advanced mini-version of Cybertronian cities (New York, Singapore, London, Rome, Tokyo, Rio, Dubai...) and societies running on scientific, artistic and philosophical development which has no right existing on the ruthless, all-organic planet such as Earth is. Societes run by creatures who 4.000.000 (the duration of their war) years ago were hanging from the trees btw.

Autobots would be terrified.

Lemme make sure this response saves this time, cause it took me a minute to answer cause my first deleted and I had so much written I got unbelievably angry and refused to even look at the tumblr app.

But here we are.

So, this is EXACTLY what I have been thinking about for who k owe how long. It’s also the intro to this wack as fuck universe idea I’ve had in my head a while, and have kinda hinted at in my other works, but I’ve never gone into detail about.

And I still won’t.

Anyways, yes. It’s crazy that we backlit humans so much when any other sentient species is about. Transformers, TMNT, etc (I’m on a one track mind, feel free to jot down any other fandoms I can’t think of). The main theme of these stories? HUMANS SUCK. And that is severely unfair. People want to cry about how much our generation doesn’t give a shit anymore. Have you SEEN the media we feed kids???

That’s why I live Humans are Space Orcs so much. It really puts into perspective how unique and batshit our species is.

So, onto the Transformers vs humans concepts. The ONLY reason (forgoing technoism and general hate towards organics) cybertronians don’t see humanity as an imminent threat, or one in general, is because of size. WE BE SMALL AF. Can’t blame them, I get it. We do the same. Insects? Fuck them mfs.

But have you seen a botfly or tick burrow into your skin? The infection that comes form that? Have you seen ants jump a small animal as a colony and absolutely shred it? Or a spider only biting you, and the horror the venom causes (recluses and huntsman’s specifically). We have a good fucking reason for disliking these mfs.

But transformers? These are organic experiences. Worst they go through are rust infections, spark death, the works. They are not at risk the same way we are. That is why they view organics as small and inconsequential. They have no idea how hard we fight to simply stay alive.

And now the similarities. It’s understandable that they wouldn’t immediately recognize the physical, cultural, and psychological similarities between our species. Transformers are an incredibly diverse race, like any other. But specifically in physical form. Your average cybertronian holds a similar appearance to your average human. We tend to have the same features, just with different names. Eyes, noses, faceplates, ears, two arms, two legs. Sure that’s average for them too. But they are unique because of the fact that they have two forms. Vehicle mode. Their mode decides what they’re second mode looks like, which can create extreme diversity is appearance. Small, large, many limbed or not.

So the immediate similarities probably wouldn’t jump out to them in an odd way. There’s also the idea that because they’re so spread out in the universe, they’ve seen other organic races that are also similar. Pairs of every body part could be the common denominator among species.

That goes culturally too. War, love, music, government, politics, it’s all a natural form of sentient evolution. Another common denominator. It’s how it’s done that makes it unique. And the similarities between human and cybertronian culture is uncomfortably familiar.

I think that’s why cybertronians are seen being closest with humans rather than other species in the shows and comics (obviously because the audience is human and they need relation to characters but shhhh forget that for a sec). This is where the theories start.

Let’s say cybertronians begin to recognize the weird similarities between our species. The really, really weird stuff. The itty bitty details. Like:

- how we also mainstream kissing on the lips as the top tier romantic gesture.

- use verbal tone and cues for our language.

- have intensely complicated interpersonal relationships in the exact same manner.

- suffer from extreme mental health issues like depression, anxiety, PTSD (I totally headcannon that forms of adhd, autism, and ocd exist in cybertronian society, have y’all not seen my boy rodimus prime??)

- will also destroy each other in the name of our gods, until we have a common enemy.

That’s just the basics I could come up with. The only time I actually saw a moment where a transformer genuinely take a moment to realize that humans can be a threat, was in transformers prime. Episode 6 of beast wars (I think, correct me if wrong), where Miko beats the ever loving fuck out of an insecticon (I think) and upon Megatron hearing this, just goes blank Kubrick stare for a hot second. Man had an ugly realization that did not fit in with anything he had experienced his whole life.

AND THEY NEVER FUCKING ADDRESSED IT EVER AGAIN. Sick of this shit. Could’ve had the most badass character development, where the humans actually proved useful and did something (it would have fit Milo’s character so perfectly too) and scared the utter shit out of the transformers. BUT NO. They continue to be annoying as fuck.

One thing I loved about TF Prime was that it canonically turned Unicron into Earth. And humans came from the earth. Which relates humans beings and cybertronians so hard. Cousins Fr. We are the cybertronian equivalent of organics, and transformers the inorganic equivalent of humans. The individuality, the chaos, the culture, it clicks. There is so much material to really go into it.

But they never do. Don’t get me wrong, I love Transformers lord and just discovering more without humans being involved. We’re just annoying af at this point. But there is so much u tapped potential in transformers actually taking the chance to LEARN about us. But we’re just friends (pets) to these mfs.

That’s why I love TF Earthspark so far. Transformers ingrained into human culture because they’re not from Cybertron, and cybertronians having to adapt to human culture because they have no where else to go. Granted, it’s a kids show. There’s only so much they can do. But I’m excited for where it’ll lead. It really shows how much of threat and ally humans are, and how we are just as diverse as cybertronians.

I need to write another fic about cybertronians meeting humans their size from our world tho. Need to continue my old piece. Would give me so much life. Y’all help motivate me, college draining my ass.

#shower thoughts #humans are crazy #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #Transformers #transformers prime #transformers earthspark #rant

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piosplayhouse · 1 year

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Ayo thank you for your contribution to society and world culture through the SVSSS iceberg, now if you don’t mind can you please explain it? I’ve been in the fandom a while but I swear I’ve never heard of some of these

Sure! Explanations will be sorted under the cut:

SHEN YUAN TIER:

- all items in this tier are either surface level details from the source material or

- daily bingpup is a popular fandom meme (used in the metal gear sense lmfao) started by @ kamkamquats on Twitter that's pretty self explanatory: kam draws and posts a bingpup picture every day! The archive is available here.

I probably should have made this point just bingpup, as I believe his origins precede kam's art, but she certainly boosted his popularity significantly, and now her art and bingpup are canonized with the publishing of the 4th volume English translation of the novel, so I thought it was a fun point!

LUO BINGHE TIER:

- Feynite's au collection: an extremely popular collection of alternate universe fics written by legendary Scum Villain fic author Feynite.

- Scum Villain is a tragedy: an interpretation of the books that poses that from every other perspective besides Shen Yuan's, Scum Villain is an incredibly depressing tragedy.

- Luo Binghe is Airplane's self insert: "Don't asky why Luo Binghe wasn't the embodiment of [Airplane's] ideal man; Luo Binghe's use had primarily been to fulfill his desire to be a badass and get revenge, as well as his desire for wanton [this section has been censored]" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 163).

- Shen Yuan died on his birthday: Shen Yuan's death date is never given in the original novels, but in the first scene of the donghua when he dies while at his computer, you can catch a glimpse at the date reading September 21st (both his birthday and the day svsss was published!)

- Shen Qingqiu's canon fursona: binghe compares sqq to a crane multiple times in the story but is depicted as a cat in fandom much more frequently, leading people to joke about how the fandom disregards his "canon" fursona in the same way bingpup is much more prevalent than sheep binghe.

- Shen Qingqiu can knit: there's official crossover Christmas merchandise that shows all of the mxtx couples participating in different holiday activities: wangxian are decorating a tree, hualian are baking cookies, and shen qingqiu is knitting a scarf for luo binghe.

- Luo Binghe's birthday: Luo Binghe is actually the only main mxtx character that doesn't have a canon birthday. He's noted in the books as being born on "the coldest days of the year", but it's debatable whether this is late December or early January, and there's no specific date from this that we can confirm is his birthday.

- sv manhua's indefinite hiatus: much to the excitement of starved fans, a Scum Villain manhua began publishing in 2019. It ran for a grand total of 3 wonderful weeks before being unceremoniously put on indefinite hiatus because of drama within the fanbase stemming from rumors that the artist/company drawing it actually hated scum villain. It has yet to return.

SHEN JIU TIER:

- Moshang's horrible first time: MXTX stated in a Q&A interview that neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua enjoyed their first time having sex together.

- Shen Qingqiu invented maxi pads: the "scum villain pad commercial" is a commercial from the first season of the donghua depicting an exchange where Ning Yingying is self conscious about going out on her period because her sanitary supplies aren't cute, so Shen Qingqiu magics her up some maxi pads.

- Shen Yuan read mpreg yaoi: "#18 Peerless Cucumber [Expert]: Upthread, keep cool. This forum has a lot of Green JJ sisters 😎" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 145). / "''Great Master' Liu! Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write a green Jinjiang mpreg novel!'" (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System volume 4, page 295).

- Shen Jiu transmigrated into Shen Yuan: A somewhat popular theory in the fandom that when Shen Jiu died, he transmigrated into modern day Shen Yuan the same way Shen Yuan did to him.

- Cursed monkey island: Cursed monkey island is/was a private discord server made up of very og sv fans that was known for outputting somewhat dark/off-color/weird fics for each other, often with funny porn spoof names and niche concepts. The first fics from there were published in 2018, while the last fic in the collection seems to have been published in 2022, so they might still be active, but I'm not sure.

- Moshang has a 20 year age difference: Shang Qinghua died at at least age 20 (probably older) and since he transmigrated into a baby, he has 20 extra years of consciousness from his first life on the PIDW native characters, who he meets when they're both teenagers in the Airplane extras. Though physically the same age group, he would've been mentally somewhere around 30-40 years old at this point getting bullied by teenagers.

- The microwave: some of the first previews released for the donghua were static turnaround videos of the 3D models set to elevator music -- after these dropped, it was radio silence on the show's status for a long, long time. Fans called these previews "the microwave" because of the static rotation of the models and referred to the time it took for the donghua to come out as "defrosting it in the microwave". There's a fair amount of art/memes from this time period featuring the characters literally inside microwaves, even to the point where people made microwave-themed SV merch. When the donghua finally came out bingqiu were declared "free from the microwave" and a wave of fanart of them destroying microwave prisons emerged.

TIANLANG JUN TIER:

- Wangxian have read resentment of chunshan: in the mdzs audio drama extra episode "Accompanying you to sleep - Lan Wangji", Lan Wangji takes care of a drunk Wei Wuxian by getting him ready for bed. Towards the end of the episode, Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji to read him a bedtime story. Lan Wangji says he isn't good at telling stories and Wei Wuxian suggest he reads him The Resentment of Chunshan (bingqiu fanfiction). Unfortunately, Lan Wangji had never heard of it before and thereby could not ASMR it.

- Six Balls x Zhuzhi Lang: a rarepair (also called bamboo balls) written by the lovely Alex here.

- Shen Qingqiu has the protagonist halo: a theory/headcanon suggesting that when Shen Yuan transmigrated, the role of protagonist and subsequent protagonist halo left Luo Binghe and transferred onto him. Often used in angst canon divergences wherein due to the lack of a protagonist halo, Binghe dies from an event he otherwise would have survived because of his story invulnerability.

- Shen Yuan's sister found his dead body: an angst headcanon centering around the idea that Shen Yuan's sister found his dead body rotting in his apartment after he died- very good art made about this here!! (Gore/blood cw)

- Who is zhuzhi lang's dad: we all know zhuzhi-lang's dad was a big snake but what kind of big snake? How big? Why did his mom fuck him? all important questions heavily debated about in this fandom.

MOBEI JUN TIER:

- Every ship is cumplane: we already know Luo Binghe is Airplane's self insert, and Mobei-Jun's cold demeanor is somewhat reminiscent of Peerless Cucumber's tsundere wife-isms, making bingqiu and moshang arguable proto-cumplanes. However, we can go further and argue because Airplane created the entire world of PIDW, all of it in a way reflects him and his feelings, therefore meaning that because it loves Shen Qingqiu and Shen Qingqiu loves it back, every possible PIDW asset x sqq is cumplane in its basest form.

- Original donghua designs: the first pv for the donghua actually featured slightly different designs for bingqiu, which were then changed later in production! You can see the original ones here.

- PIDW is real: someone actually posted PIDW on jjwxc so you can get the real Shen Yuan experience.

SHANG QINGHUA TIER:

- Shen Yuan penetrated into the body of the scum villain: there is a listing for the svsss donghua on Amazon prime video (though no episodes are actually available) which features this banger summary:

An ordinary youth, Shen Yuan, after reading the novel "Arrogant Gods and Demons' Journey", triggers the mysterious system so that he crosses into the book world and penetrates into the body of villain--Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu's disciple, Luo Binghe, is the main character of the novel.

- Airplane's foot fetish:

#and thats it!#svsss #svsss iceberg

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specialagentartemis · 5 days

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The Murderbot Diaries and Terminator: Dark Fate: What Does a Killer Robot WANT, Anyway?

The Terminator (1984) is probably the most famous killer robot in media, setting the image for a what a killer robot is. It’s shaped like a bodybuilder, weapons built into its metal skeleton, eyes hidden behind cool and impersonal sunglasses, a threateningly “foreign” accent, and no feelings, no remorse, and no desires besides killing its target. Kyle Reese describes it to Sarah Connor bluntly: “That Terminator is out there! It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop... ever, until you are dead!” And the film supports this wholeheartedly. We get a few scenes from the Terminator’s perspective, and they do not really indicate that it has much in the way of personality or free will. It’s scary because it is a ruthlessly efficient, tireless, and analytical machine built to kill. It will not stop until its target is dead, or it is.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991) gives us a nice Terminator, a Terminator captured from its controlling Skynet and re-programmed to help Sarah and John Connor rather than hunt them. This Terminator gives slightly more suggestions that it has a personality of its own, but ultimately it is still now ruthlessly efficient, tireless, and analytical in protecting its charges, but it still dies at the end in the course of fulfilling its objective. It was, after all, programmed by the human rebels to protect John Connor, and it did.

Did the Terminator want any of that? The second film halfheartedly cares a little, and the first film certainly did not at all. It’s an irrelevant question. It’s a robot; it’s incapable of truly wanting anything, it just does as it’s programmed. It fulfills its objective.

In modern sci-fi, that’s not really a satisfying answer anymore. It looks like a human, has human organic parts built into it, and it clearly has the ability to process large amounts of information and make complex and reasoned decisions. Why do we write it off so thoroughly? Does a Terminator like what it does? Would it choose this? What does a Terminator want?

The Murderbot Diaries (2017-present) by Martha Wells isn’t a direct answer to this question, but it sure is considering it.

The titular Murderbot is very similar to the Terminator: a human-form cyborg, a robot with human organic parts built in, a machine with guns in its arms made to do a job and that job being to protect and/or oppress humans. But as a thinking, feeling, complex entity, it has opinions about that job.

You know what else is a clear response to early Terminator movies’ fundamental uninterest in the Terminator’s inner life and personal opinions on things? Later Terminator movies. Specifically Terminator: Dark Fate (2019).

The fact that The Murderbot Diaries and Dark Fate came out at roughly the same time, in the same sci-fi AI-story zeitgeist, looking back critically at the 80’s and early 90’s Terminator and asking, well, what would it do if it didn’t have to murder, who would it be if it had the choice, is telling.

The Murderbot Diaries stars Murderbot, a SecurityUnit owned by a callously greedy and corner-cutting company that uses such SecUnits ostensibly to protect but in reality to intimidate, control, and surveil human clients. It calls itself “Murderbot” and all SecUnits as a whole “murderbots” for a reason. The world of the books sees SecUnits as mindless killer robots kept in check by their programming, in a very similar way that the Terminator was presented in 1984. We see the story from Murderbot’s point of view: it’s snarky, depressed, anxious, bitter, funny, and very opinionated. It also really, really hates intimidating, controlling, and surveilling people, and it specifically broke its own programming meant to keep it compliant so it wouldn’t have to hurt people. Instead, it wants to half-ass its job and watch soap operas… but it’s sympathetic to humans in danger despite itself, and when it chooses humans it cares about, it will go to great lengths (ruthless, but very tired and full of fear and pity) to protect them. What does it want? To be given space; to not be given orders; to have the ability to take its time and watch its shows and determine what its job as Security means to it.

Terminator: Dark Fate takes a different tack. (It’s actually about three badass women and I’m very sorry for focusing on the man-like character here BUT) Dark Fate presents an alternate timeline off the main series, where the Terminator succeeded in killing young John Connor. Previously, we had seen Terminators that would not stop until they were dead; this one fulfills Reese’s other warning. It will not stop until John Connor is dead. Well…. it succeeded. John Connor is dead.

Now what?

In the opening scene, we see this from his mother Sarah Connor’s perspective. The Terminator appears out of time, ambushes and kills young John Connor, and then stands there looking impassively at the destruction it wrought while Sarah screams.

It looks cold and satisfied when that scene is first presented. But when we see it again from the Terminator’s perspective, it seems to just stand there, staring stupidly, suddenly with no direction in life. It fulfilled its objective. It followed its programming. Now it has no more objective, can receive no more orders, and its programming has nothing more to tell it to do. It eventually disappears into the woods, learns more about humanity, grows a conscience, lives in a little cabin with a woman and her son fleeing an abusive husband in an apparently mutually very supportive relationship, chops wood, drives a truck, and gives Sarah Connor insider information to allow her to track down other incoming Terminators as a way of atonement. It does have remorse, if given time to think for itself and realize it. It doesn’t really want to hurt people, and even, similar to Murderbot, has a drive to use its strength and intimidating-ness to protect the people it chooses. It mostly wants to be quietly and safely left alone.

Both the Terminator and Murderbot are killer robots left adrift, aimless, reeling, suddenly having to decide for themselves what to do with their lives for the first time. Both are stories that circle back to the original Terminator premise and say, okay, but that killer robot isn’t killing for the sheer thrill of it, it was forced into doing that by a top-down authority in control of its programming. That would kind of fuck someone up, actually. It’s a hopeful narrative: these things are people, and they don’t want to be hurting other people. When given the option, they just want to rest, make amends, understand the truth, find a place they belong, and see the people they care about safe. And I think it’s fascinating that not only is smaller, literary sci-fi asking this question and telling this story, but so is the Terminator franchise itself.

We also just as blatantly see the evolution of Sarah Connor as a character. In The Terminator (1984) the Terminator is sent to kill Sarah Connor. When I was watching it recently with some friends who had never seen it before, they guessed—almost correctly—“oh, it’s because she’s the rebel leader in the future!” Sorry guys, this is a 1980s mainstream sci-fi blockbuster. Her as-yet unborn son is going to be the rebel leader. That’s why the robots in the future need to kill her, before she gives birth to the hero of the humans. Blech, I know.

Over the course of the movie, though, she becomes tough, fierce, and brave, the type who can and will survive the apocalypse; in future movies and tv series (like The Sarah Connor Chronicles, 2008, where she gets to be the eponymous title character this time!), she gets to be a strong leader in her own right. This is particularly true in Terminator: Dark Fate, where Sarah Connor is a tough, grizzled, middle-aged Terminator-fighter, who steals heavy weaponry from the government to track down and kill Terminators arriving from the future. She becomes a mentor to the new woman being hunted down by the new Terminator threat, Dani Ramos. This time, though, Dani isn’t fated to be the mother of the human rebel leader—she is destined to become the human rebel leader herself. Along with Dani’s own Kyle Reese figure, a cybernetically-augmented human fighter from the future named Grace, women get central action-hero and rebel-leader roles in Terminator: Dark Fate, feeling like an awkward apology for the sexism inherent in the premise of 1984’s The Terminator. (However, Dark Fate stops short of committing to the Dani-Sarah/Grace-Reese parallel and letting them be lesbians. It’s still a mainstream action movie, I guess.) We even see the development of a curt but resentfully respectful understanding between Sarah Connor and the Terminator that killed her son.

I lay this out because in the same way I see the literary DNA of the Terminator in Murderbot, I see elements of Sarah Connor in Dr. Mensah. She’s the human protagonist—the one who would be the protagonist if All Systems Red had been from the human perspective—and feels like the answer to a similar question to “what does a killer robot want?”, namely, “what if, instead of enemies locked into battle to the death, the badass human and the killer robot worked together and came to an understanding? What if they could be friends instead of enemies?” Mensah also feels like a feminist response to some of the issues I had with Sarah Connor—that she didn’t get to be the leader herself, that despite her own strength and tenacity being the mother to the leader was the most important thing she would do—and responds to them in a similar way that Dark Fate somewhat apologetically does. Mensah is the leader of her society (her planet). Mensah is a mother and she is a scientist and a leader and gets her badass action-hero moments (MINING DRILL). She is the first to reach out to Murderbot. To ask it how it feels, and calm down the others later when they’re afraid; her relationship with Murderbot is unique. She’s a foil to Murderbot in a parallel but opposite way that Sarah Connor is a foil to the Terminator. And while in Dark Fate they are not friends (the Terminator did still kill Sarah’s son, even if it didn’t specifically want to) we see the same kind of desire reflected: what if they were at least allies? What if they were working together? How would that relationship go? What kind of understanding could they come to, about what it means to be human and to be machine? It's a smaller part of the movie and they don't give a whole lot of answers, but it's there.

Both All Systems Red (and the subsequent Murderbot Diaries books) and Terminator: Dark Fate were released in a very different sci-fi zeitgeist than The Terminator was. They’re both looking back, and reacting to it: Dark Fate directly, The Murderbot Diaries indirectly. And they’re approaching the concept of the Terminator and its Sarah Connor figure with similar questions: What does the robot want, aside from its programming to kill, and if it could be freed of its programming to kill, what kind of relationships—with society, with the concept of self-determination, and with its human woman foil—could it potentially be able to develop, with that freedom?

#They’re also both aroace #is it regressive? Does it imply things about sex/romance and humanity?#I don’t care I appreciate that neither one had to prove itself a whole person by falling in love #that’s a topic for a different post #Dani and Grace didn’t get a romance either. Cowards #but I kind of appreciate there was no human romance and sex/inhuman lack of romance and sex that was sorta lowkey going on in the original #This piece is less polished than last week's but oh well #MurderMetaMay #The Terminator #Terminator Dark Fate #The Murderbot Diaries #meta #my meta

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collapsedsquid · 9 months

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On my recent trip to Kyiv, I was informed by Ukrainian government officials that they had information indicating that Prigozhin had accumulated more than $4 billion worth of gold alone from these endeavors. But Putin decided after Wagner’s rebellion that it was time for Prigozhin to give up these mercenary protection rackets—and time for his Russian military intelligence agency, the GRU, and other regime-affiliated private military companies such as Redut, to take them over. More reliable members of the security state would be rewarded while Prigozhin was punished. As the Wall Street Journal reported recently, Putin had personally told the president of Central African Republic that it was time to end his relationship with Prigozhin, and the Russian Ministry of Defense had sent delegations to African strongmen to tell them that from now on they were to deal directly with the Russian government. But Prigozhin apparently refused to take the hint. Instead, in his last days, he was crisscrossing Africa—going from Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic, to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Everywhere he went, he insisted—in private meetings and a video that he later released on his Telegram social media channel—that Wagner would continue to increase its presence and support to these African leaders. To his allied commanders in Sudan, who had brought him gold from Darfur’s Songo mine, the Journal reported that he said, “I need more gold.” These defiant actions must have infuriated Putin. In the TV broadcast eulogy after Prigozhin’s death, Putin referred to him as a “talented businessman” who had made “serious mistakes in life,” but he also went into a strange and seemingly out-of-place level of detail on Prigozhin’s business dealings in Africa—the only specific reference to the oligarch’s vast business empire—and his engagement “in oil, gas, precious metals, and stones there.” From Putin’s perspective, Prigozhin, rather than taking a chance at clemency and disappearing into oblivion, had the arrogance to continue to oppose Putin’s wishes. There could not and would not be a second forgiveness. Once again, Prigozhin arrogantly miscalculated a business dispute with Putin and other Russian elites, and it led to his demise.

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starhoppin · 8 months

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pick a picture; what to expect for the month of october

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「 pile one」

five of wands rv (cb: the word lord rv, the wise woman of wonderland rv) knight of swords (cb: the arrow master rv, the hungry ghosts), six of swords (cb: the sacred union)

you may be purposefully avoiding conflict this month. you may find out that people are gossiping or talking badly about you behind your back. you're being asked to not engage with them. they are projecting onto you - and that is not your problem. it's their own fears and negativity speaking. there may be one person (feminine) in particular that is causing drama. do not be afraid to walk away from someone because you're worried you will not find another. staying with such a person will not benefit you in the long run. for some of you, this particular situation may be regarding a friendship of some sort. you may be grappling with a lack mindset this month. this negative mindset may be affecting your self-esteem and your relationship with potential romantic partners. this may sound redundant, but settling is not the answer. you may be giving too much of yourself to people who do not deserve it and you are not allowing yourself to receive. relationships should not be one-sided, you deserve to receive love as well. you may be experiencing self-deprecating thoughts. shift your perspective of yourself and address those limiting beliefs. be willing to stop this cycle and things will change for the better. i'm seeing that once you end this cycle, there is true love in your future - if you're brave enough to take the leap. also, i saw 12:34 on the clock while i was reading - if that is confirmation for someone.

[songs that may resonate] get it your way - the band camino, sparks fly - taylor swift, in a perfect world - dean lewis & julia michaels

「 pile two」

temperance (cb: the altar princess, the cosmos), 5 of swords (the metal king, gaia's garden), the lovers rv (the lady of the mirror, the mapmaker of destiny)

you may be starting a project or have a new opportunity that will bring a lot of meaning to your life. this could be something creative. this will bring you a lot of happiness and stability, as long as you diligently work towards your goal. however, you must be mindful of people with negative intentions trying to take advantage of you and the success from this project. keep quiet about the details of this new venture, and make sure to set boundaries with others. you may be experiencing trouble within your love life this month. for someone specific: you may have found someone who you want to start a relationship with; however, they do not want commitment. Instead, they want the more... physical aspects of a relationship or wish for a casual fling. do not blame yourself if this turns out to be the case. their actions are a reflection of them, not you - do not let their low-vibrational intentions taint your self-esteem.

[songs that may resonate] dirty little secret - the all-american rejects, i choose you - sara bareilles, your love is my drug - kesha

「 pile three」

death (cb: the dragon's duel), three of pentacles (cb: the resting tree rv), five of wands (cb: the swan queen)

you may be facing a significant choice this month. i'm hearing "should i stay or should i go?" you're being asked to analyze your choices to determine which one will serve your highest intentions. this may be concerning the end of a cycle. you may have finally completed your healing journey and you're ready to move forward into a new period. however, this will take a conscious effort on your part to step into this new chapter of your life. you may also be experiencing a lot of stress this month. if you start to feel yourself getting overwhelmed with your commitments: stop, take a breath, and meditate if you can. do not try to do everything at once or you may make mistakes - things don't happen overnight. also, do not be afraid to ask others for help to lighten your load. you aren't meant to do everything yourself. be open to assistance from others.

[songs that may resonate] eyes - bazzi, till you're ready - navvy, i'm yours - jason mraz

tarot decks used in this reading: cirque du tarot & wisdom of the hidden realms oracle cards

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letterlifter · 9 months

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hi mr mailman! i know you arent a part of the writing team, but is there any specific reason why pacesetter and firestarter ended up paired together? you've mentioned both of them having musical/metal inspo, was that part of it? or was it more of just throwing darts at a board? love your work!! <3

thank you!

this is just my personal/non-official/non-lore perspective on it, but I see a lot of character relationships in media that have some obvious shared theme, like fire and water, which is cool… But Pacesetter and Firestarter, despite being seemingly unrelated at a glance, actually have subtler things in common (shared music taste being among them… PS probably enjoys hearing about drama from FS too). their personalities complement each other well despite the visual differences. firestarter needs the confidence; pacesetter needs the appreciation, validation, and probably many other things… maybe he could learn some patience too…

as for the real-world reason why they're in a relationship… well… my memory is bad, but IIRC, it came up a year or two ago... I believe the idea for their relationship existed before either character had a tie to music, back when they just had personalities and designs (which are essentially the same as they are now), so in that way, the initial idea was very personality based

of course the previous paragraphs relate to it, but let’s say this– they told me personally that they wanted to be together

#they kind of make me think of katy and lammy #except the instruments are swapped #tldr: they have a lot of things in common and their personalities work well together #which i think is more realistic in some ways #as for the lore as to why they got together....... not my place to say....... i think there may be some clues out there though #i hope you enjoy the very old ms paint drawings i drew with my mouse

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kerubimcrepin · 3 months

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Random Joris Lore Titbits Nobody Except Me Should Care About

+ AKA random bullshit that won't fit in any other post.

>Joris might literally be legally adopted.

(source: Dofus MMO site, "The Case of the Butcher of Brakmar")

And they may have still had the paperwork to prove it 200 years later, since this was noted down in an official case file investigating temporal anomalies. Cute.

>Joris has known his surname is "Jurgen" way before the events of the movie.

>Joris and Kerubim have distinct handwriting.

Kerubim writes in quick, but at times indecipherable, cursive.

Baby Joris writes in very messy cursive, while adult Joris writes in plain, blocky letters.

(source for all of this: the 20th anniversary map, scans not available online. I'll make a post trying to write down as much lore as I can from using YouTube unboxing videos later)

>Joris birthday and Zodiac lore

As is known thanks to the studio timeline, Joris was born on December 32nd. This makes sense, considering the year changes when Jiva defeats Djaul every year.

This also means that, unlike the rest of the series, the final episode of Aux Tresors takes place in the spring of 398, and Joris is 8 years old.

He was pretty much born on the Krosmoz equivalent of a leap year. Poor guy.

In real life, it would make his zodiac sign "Capricorn".

But in Krosmoz's in-universe zodiac system his sign is "Seadragon".

One interesting aside is that, it is entirely possible to triangulate Joris's Chinese (pandawa?) zodiac sign, since we know 1. what year he was born in, and 2. That 654 was the year of Dragon.

This is dubious lore based literally on a single post on the Dofus site, announcing a holiday event. I am only including it because I'm insane.

Anyway, here's some math:

Because Joris was born in 390, we know that 264 years had passed since his birth, and to the already mentioned year of dragon, 654.

In real life, 264 years ago, it was 1760, (which really puts Joris's age into a perspective, and a scary one at that,) and it was...

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

Here is some info on the Dragon sign of the Chinese zodiac:

And to be specific, 1760 (and by that logic, 390) was a "Metal/Gold Dragon" year...

I hate how well it fits, with his, uh... [gestures vaguely] his everything? Especially considering it was completely unplanned by Ankama.

I will go into a river now, never to be seen again, or something. This is too much.

#randominfopost #joris jurgen #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #ro liveblogs dofus

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thefangirltreehouse · 1 year

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sebastian sallow | general thoughts / headcanons with gryffindor!mc

this is just overall thoughts on the sebastian arc and his general characterisation (yes, i am continuing to update this on my second playthrough)

spoilers below

the amount of times i’ve caught sebastian looking at mc through the start of my now second play-through is hilariously adorable, like don’t get me wrong the herbology one is absolutely the best, but i noticed that throughout charms sebastian is just staring at mc (like he’s straight up starts ignoring ominis speaking to him when they walk in the room) also the slight glances in defence against the dark arts before the duel is so cute.

he does it again whilst sirona and rookwood are arguing, like he just turns to them and similes

you can’t convince me otherwise that mc didn’t grab at least his arm to pull him away from ranrok, like it genuinely looks like that and if you squint hard enough it looks like he does the same thing when heading into the three broomsticks

listen i’m specifically playing as fem! & gryffindor! and the missions with ominis feel so reminiscent of the golden trio (i’m calling it now, they’re the electrum trio - a metal mixed with gold and sliver) especially the crucio side-mission

saw someone in a comment sum their dynamic up perfectly from my perspective

“i used to have beef with ominis before this (crucio) quest happened and now it’s me, a gryffindor dragging two slytherins by their shirt collars”

slight tangent but ominis is so sweet if you start as a slytherin! i saw my friend start his game and meet him in the common room and i was like “i’m sorry, is this the same tory bastard that yelled at me for nicking his pal?”

if anything sebastian comes off worse in that section.

almost every streamer i’ve came across assumes he’s flirting, like this was absolutely intentional

when either of the boys, particularly sebastian is speaking to imelda and the conversation of mc comes up she absolutely refers to mc as “that gryffindor of yours”

i mean, it’s the age old rivalry that just gives everything that extra oomph! despite the fact nobody seems to be questioning that a gryffindor has closely befriended not one, but two slytherins because that certainly isn't suspicious (i'm surprised one of the gryffindors didn't bring it up - particularly leander)

speaking of leander, why are the more prominent gryffindors (and ravenclaws) so antagonistic or hellbent on getting us in trouble?

sebastian’s jealously towards both his friends is dripping in the crucio quest like, in the line below i know he means because mc and ominis have special abilities but...

"between the two of you, i'm starting to feel left out"

the constant proud "that's my girl" look on his face

"never know who's watching - although that hasn't stopped us before." "strictly speaking, it has. we were caught."

also at the start of the library mission, anyone notice the way he's casually waiting on mc against the banister smiling up at her? or whilst he's waiting on her and ominis to figure out the location of the scriptorium? like, this boy knows he's the shit.

listen, there are certain things that sebastian said and did during his storyline that even at that age, i would’ve noped out of but i went in with a “yes, corrupt the little goody-two-shoes gryffindor madly infatuated with you” attitude and honestly it was so much fun. cause objectively yeah, sebastian should be expelled at the very least but my mc was not gonna let them do that (they're very much giving jd and veronica)

that said, mc isn't about to let him walk all over her, she's a gryffindor for a reason, she's just had some misguided judgement

don’t love how there isn’t much of a reaction from either boy after crucio is cast on mc, especially from sebastian (again, massive red flag) but also, think the devs missed the mark on that one like sebastian is still mc’s friend, yeah he really wants to see anne healed but a little sympathy shown would’ve been nice and a proper acknowledgement of what'd he'd done.

even if sebastian shrugged it off quickly he should've helped them walk or at least offered a hand to stand up

i love the wee house jibes, i wish we got more of them!

"you're not a bad chap, for a slytherin" "you gryffindors don't have a monopoly on bravery y'know"

an awful lot of english folk in the scottish highlands

sebastian and poppy are talking whilst leaving a class and my brain was like “omg her bf + gf are talking!”

i want triwizard and yule so badly!

the red and the green / gold and silver looks, look so good!

mc makes a comment about how amazed sebastian will be when she tells him that she took down the ashwinders by herself

"it'd be wise to keep an eye on you"

_____

general headcanons (oc-ish)

he'd absolutely mutter continuous little digs and comments throughout their classes simply to get under her skin and make her smile whilst she's trying to listen to their professors (he used to do this to ominis but he's able to ignore sebastian now after years of the torment)

whilst having dinner in the great hall they won't be sitting together but they'll lightly tap or nudge one another on the back if they're passing behind each-other's designated tables

sebastian refers to the fat lady painting as the "golden gate keeper of mediocrity" after walking mc back to gryffindor tower, which earns him a mildly deserved elbow jab

he gives mc piggy-backs during their trips to hogsmead and the quidditch pitch

whilst she's walking to and from classes with cressida or natsai, sebastian is regularly seen inserting himself between them, putting an arm over mc and / or pinching her away over to ominis and nerida

"who would've thought, all it took was a snake to tame the lion" cressida noted to a disinterested leander, peering over at the scarlet robes peaking beneath the sea of green

mc likes to softly poke at his blushing cheeks, joking that if sebastian "gets any redder, he won't be allowed back into slytherin" or that "he might have to come back to gryffindor with her"

mc has on occasion accidently fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder during history of magic

most of the gryffindors (nellie, leander and garreth in particular) will tease sebastian as he waits for her outside the common room, claiming "she was ours first" and attempt to distract her for as long as possible beyond the painting just to 'knock 'im down a few pegs'

they're well aware she's highly capable of holding her own, but not only is he a slytherin, he's also sebastian sallow so they're protective

he much prefers bumping into natty, who'll make a light "lost puppy" joke, share laugh and proceed to actually go get mc or he would actively seek out lucan because he knows the kid sucks-up to him but eventually the older gryffindors caught-on and would bribe lucan with chocolate frogs to stop him in his tracks

mc enjoys exposing sebastian to muggle trinkets and snacks, she grew up in a travelling circus with her parents, a ringmaster and fortune teller who never attended hogwarts in their youth (i'm gonna do a separate oc bio)

the trio all share a love of pumpkin pasties and lavender tea so whoever has a free period (or when sebastian has detention) will pop down to the kitchen to collect some

forehead kisses, hugs and interlocked arms whilst exploring the castle are everything to these two (their subtle little height difference is adorable, especially when you remember fem!mc is wearing wee wedged shoes at the start of the game)

highwing isn't his biggest fan (prefers ominis) and mc relishes in that

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #harry potter #my gif looks like ass #i forgot how to make them look good and im not used to getting clips from my ps5 #i'm gonna make a gif set with my second playthrough cause i missed screen recording a lot of their best scenes first time around

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 months

Text

Please Fix the Story- Side Part - Adonis

My first side part of two. Will plan for a second one for Liam. Hope you guys enjoy seeing it from a "hero's" perspective!

Enjoy!

Masterpost linked here!

____________________________

I am the hero.

I believed this with every part of my being. Every cell and every atom within me screamed for me to step into the spotlight that was rightfully mine. The center stage that everyone longed for but so few could touch.

I grew up in obscurity. A father in a dead-end job whose lack of drive and ambition led our family to live paycheck to paycheck. Coming home just to drink and complain about work. I also had two older brothers who finished high school and went straight to work in the shop like our old man, with little regard for the world beyond our small town. But my mother… my mother was like me. She was a dreamer.

During my childhood she would read to me every night before bed. Classics, sci-fi, adventure stories… any book my mother could get her hands on. We explored world after world from the safety of my room as she read to me, equal parts excitement and longing shining in her eyes as she described faraway places and people that she would never get to see.

But her favorite story, the one we read most often, was a classic. A story of a brave knight, a hero. A story of a beautiful princess. A story of an evil dragon. I would listen with childish wonder as she described the princess being kidnapped and guarded in a tower, the knight and the dragon’s harrowing battle, and the happily ever after that awaited the hero and the princess.

“All stories should be like this one.” She told me confidently. “It is the best story in the world.”

She would point to pictures of the knight in the story book, a man in metal armor with a brightly shining sword. “When you grow up, you are going to be a great hero, a great man like him!”

I looked up at her, confused. “What about dad? Isn’t he great? Shouldn’t I grow up to be like him?”

At my question, her eyes were filled with sorrow and rage. “Don’t you EVER end up being like your dad. He’s a nobody.” She pointed at the book. “There’s no pictures of men like your dad in here, because they’re not important enough to get pictures. They don’t defeat the dragon, they don’t marry the princess, and they don’t have happy endings.”

“But Dad married you, and you are better than any princess!”

“…” She just stared silently at me for a moment. “Promise me you won’t become like your father. PROMISE.”

“… I promise.” I looked down at the knight in shining armor again, feeling determined.

I am the hero.

____________________________

My mother left us shortly after. Quietly walked out with her bags while we were all sleeping. My father didn’t say much to us about it. Just worked harder at his dead-end job and drank more when he was home. I watched it all, and knew without a doubt: My father was unhappy because he wasn’t the hero my mother wanted him to be. But I was different than him.

I worked hard, studied harder. Got into college on a scholarship. I was studying finance, determined to get into a career that would make a lot of money. To be different from my father. Packed away with all of my textbooks and papers, however, I still carried around my mother’s favorite book, the only memento I had of her, the only thing she had left behind for me to keep.

And that’s how I met Arabella.

My fairy tale book slipped out of my bag one day as I sat on bench trying to find a specific paper. I bent over and reached out to pick it up, but she got there before me.

“I love this book! Such a classic!” She smiled at me as she handed it over.

I fell in love with her smile.

We talked at length about books and stories. She was an English major, a lover of writing in all its forms. After that fateful day we spent many hours together. Talking, laughing, trading ideas. I fell deeper and deeper in love with her, fantasizing about confessing my feelings, and having her reciprocate. We would get married, have children, become successful, important people. Different from my father and mother.

She was my princess, my happy ending.

… Until she wasn’t.

“This is my boyfriend, Ben.” She introduced him with a different smile. I had thought I had seen all of her smiles, but it turns out that her most beautiful one, the one filled with love, was saved for someone else.

I hated him.

Hated how he seemed to shine in every space he was in. Hated that he was always the center of attention. He was a natural born leader, a great conversationalist, an all-around good guy that everyone liked. I hated everything about him, but most of all I hated the fact that he stole the love of my life from me. My darling Arabella.

She was mine.

But when I finally worked up my courage to tell her my feelings, instead of a smile filled with love, I got a look of pity and concern. She didn’t feel the same. She hoped we could still be friends.

I was humiliated. I thought I was the hero of her story, but I was just a nobody, a friend, an extra on the sidelines.

I was just like my father.

I hated my father, hated myself for being like him. But slowly, inevitably, my hatred took a new turn.

Arabella. Why did she not love me? Why was she ignoring our obvious connection? Why did she look at me with pity when I was so much better than that loser she was dating?

I hated her too. If she had never been there, I would have never felt so weak and helpless. I felt trapped in the sidelines, and couldn’t see a way to escape this fate of being nothing, of fading into obscurity. I had to do something. I refused to disappear into nothingness.

I am the hero.

So I fixed the problem.

And as I stood over the bodies of Arabella and Ben, my hand still holding the blood-stained knife, watching the blood pooling under them, rolling slowly towards my shoes. I realized the truth behind my world:

I was special.

The world froze. An inhuman being, the System, offered me a chance to work with it, to save the universe.

It was everything I wanted and more. Power. Prestige. A mission. I would be the main character, the knight I read about. I would be the hero.

It warned me that if I left with it, this world would be destroyed. I looked around. Now that I knew that this world was a lower realm, a romance story that I was a side character in, it all seemed so… small. Worthless. This world had done nothing but contain me, and I deserved to escape it.

I felt a brief flash of conscience. If I said yes, everyone I knew would be destroyed. My father. My brothers. My friends in college.

My mother.

Arabella.

But what have they ever done for me? I looked at the two options in front of me, and selected “Yes” with a firm hand.

And in that instant, they were gone.

And I was free.

____________________________

The System and I came up with a plan to save the universe. We tied all the heroes to me, to help me improve their character, in bonds called Fate.

But it wasn’t enough.

So we got a dragon, an evil creature who could be a good prototype for the villains in the lower realms. My nemesis to fight. But this failed too. The dragon was weak. For all its anger and desperation in the beginning, it soon became like a soulless, lifeless puppet. Silently completing its mission in each lower realm, often dying so quickly that I barely had time to influence the hero’s story. Punishments, threats… nothing worked. The nameless villain just looked at me with eyes that seemed like they belonged to something dead.

“You cannot threaten me.” It whispered. “You have already destroyed everything I love. My family is gone. I am alone.”

I felt a brief moment of panic at his words, but pushed it down and walked away. Refusing to dwell on the thought that rose up at his words:

We were similar. We both lost everyone. We were both alone. But we were so different… I lost mine by choice.

It didn’t matter. I did what I had to do.

I am the hero.

____________________________

We were getting nowhere. We needed something more, before the universe became too unstable, and all of the lower realms collapsed.

We needed a heroine. My princess.

There was only one option. One woman that I would accept. The love of my life, the heroine of my story,

Arabella.

I knew the System could do it. It was the god of this universe, filled with strange, unnatural abilities. It could bring her back, erase what I had done.

It had to.

After much arguing, the System agreed to “create” an Arabella.

I met her in the higher realm, the System had dressed her in gorgeous clothes, just like the princess she was meant to be.

I looked at her, and she was just as beautiful as I remembered. And she was mine.

But then everything went wrong.

She looked like Arabella. And sometimes had similarities to Arabella, such as a love for stories. But she was also so very different.

“Call me Bel.” She asked me one day, her eyes filled with frustration.

“But you ARE Arabella.” I felt desperate to explain.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to be called that. You mean something different than me when you use that name, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

What could I say. How could I explain? I bit my tongue and agreed.

It was so frustrating. Having my Arabella so close, yet so far away of me. She learned about our world quickly, and displayed an astonishing talent for fixing the lower realms in a variety of ways, but never once in the way that I wanted, the true and better way.

I tried to tell her about the higher story. About fate. The princess and the hero needed to fall in love. Our happiness, our love would stabilize all of the lower realms. Save the universe.

But Bel after listening to me, gave me a look. A look I knew all too well. It was the same look Arabella gave me in my original world.

A look of rejection.

I had become a higher being. Becoming the hero that would define all heroes. Much more than the silly hero my mother showed me in a worn-out story book. But still my princess refused me. She would leave me, just like my mother left my father for being a nobody. An extra. A background character.

I refused to let that happen.

I am the hero.

____________________________

I continued the story. She would be “kidnapped” by the dragon. I would rescue her, we would fall in love, and the dragon would be defeated. All would be right.

But she refused. She decided to die rather than be rescued. And then the System made her a deal.

I watched her disappear. I watched the foolish dragon make a bad deal to follow her. And as they faded from the realm, I panicked.

They had left me behind, the hero, the main character. I had to stop Bel from succeeding, from changing her fate to join the villains. She would accept her fate. She would be my heroine again.

The System, for the first time, fought me. I wanted my memories, control over some of the story, power. It argued that I would only push her further away. I refused to compromise.

Finally, the System agreed, but would only send me to a few worlds.

“She’s already visited twelve worlds.” It stated in a dispassionate voice.

I was in shock. “It’s only been a few minutes!”

“Time moves differently in the Void.”

“SEND ME!”

____________________________

A zombie world. I was the hero, Eric, already in a relationship with a cheerful girl named Hannah. She was a lovely heroine, but utterly helpless. As she stared up at me with love and respect in her gaze, I should have felt happy, content. She treated me as the hero I was, as the center of her universe.

I didn’t care.

She wasn’t Arabella… Bel. She was just a small little character of a broken lower realm. I didn’t need such a worthless being’s love.

I needed HER.

I turned my attention to Jason, Eric’s friend. A pathetic secondary lead. I despised him, watching his struggles with disdain. Jason was a disgusting worm, following the heroine around like a lost puppy. Oblivious to the fact that she only loved the hero. He was a nobody, an extra.

He reminded me of my father.

I hid his role in Bel’s character’s death. Filled his head with thoughts of violence, planning on using him at just the right moment.

And when Bel showed up, I put myself forward as the perfect hero. Reasonable, friendly, respectful of boundaries. After all the time I spent fixing lower realms with her, I knew what she would like best. The only downside is that I had to play my role, to pretend to love Hannah. I felt the bonds of fate. Anytime I tried to break away from them, the System’s power would correct me. But I still tried my best, hoping that Bel would see beyond the characters we played, see the true me.

But instead, she paid me little to no attention. Only focusing on Hannah, or on the pathetic bastard of a villain who trailed behind her. He was as weak and useless as always, his character supposed to be the leader of a violent gang. Instead, he cooked meals and brewed tea, calling himself a support spouse.

I wanted to kill him.

But I couldn’t. I needed to be a perfect hero. Otherwise, my princess would never love me.

In the end, I failed. The dragon died, but Bel still didn’t look my way. She completed her mission and left the world without a goodbye.

Heartless as always.

____________________________

The System agreed to send me to a second world. A vampire realm. I played her brother Alexander.

The realm was a disaster. I tried to be perfect, tried to be reasonable and helpful. But I had pushed too far from the character’s role. The System forcefully corrected me, treating me like a puppet over and over, acting like a foolish teenager in love rather than a confident immortal being. I watched in silent rage as the dragon married my princess with a smirk, calling me brother-in-law. I could do nothing but seethe, trapped in this cage of a character, unable to do anything but watched as she saved the realm again.

In the end, it felt so good to kill him. I watched the dragon die under my hands with a smile. And if Bel reacted poorly… well she just didn’t understand my point of view. She didn’t remember our destiny together. She didn’t remember that the dragon was a monster, a villain.

I just had to convince her.

____________________________

“YOU FAILED.” The system told me in the void. It had no emotions, no humanity, but even so I felt that there was a note of panic within its voice.

“You wouldn’t let me do anything!” I argued back. “Give me more freedom, and I promise I will convince her of our point of view.”

“WHAT IF SHE REFUSES?”

“Then I will make sure she fails her mission. Either way, we win, correct?”

“…” The System was silent for a few moments. “YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE. SHE HAS NO MEMORY IN THIS REALM. SHE MUST FAIL. ”

I laughed. “She will.”

I did everything I could. Desperate, this time I resorted to all means: kidnapping, drugging her, lying to her. I betrayed the whole world to the alien race, trying to force her mission to fail.

But she still won. She still refused me, even when her mind and body were falling apart.

And with her power, she restarted our story in the higher realm. She chose the dragon again. She chose to reject fate. And at the end of it I realized her plan was never just to simply join the villain. She became the new System. She became a god.

____________________________

She looked at me, filled with a power I would never know. Standing next to the love of her life that wasn’t me. And I couldn’t help but wonder:

Had I really been so wrong?

“I have a much better ‘fate’ in store for you:” She told me. Smiling a smile I had never seen before. Different from any I had ever seen before A cruel smile. And I truly believed in the depths of my soul, that she was not, she never had been Arabella. The girl I thought I loved, died on the ground after I stabbed her in the heart. Not even her body was left behind as I destroyed the world behind me.

I am the hero.

“You will be banished to a lower realm. To live out your days as an insignificant side character.”

Her power lifted me off the ground, healing the wound in my side. I was helpless against it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! I was the knight! The hero! I would defeat the dragon, save the princess. I would live happily ever after!

“NO! YOU CAN’T!!!”

I am the hero.

“By day, you will remember nothing… but every night, your memories of the higher realms will be returned to you, just enough so you can always live in regret for what you have done.”

“NO!” I struggled against her powers, but there was nothing I could do. I stared into her eyes. So familiar, but foreign. And filled with nothing but weary disdain. I knew that look, knew it all too well. It was the look sealed into my heart, in the depths of my worst nightmares.

It was the look my mother gave my father the night she left. That look couldn’t be for me. It was for nobodies. For extras. For people of no importance. Not for me. Never for me.

I am the hero.

“You must accept your fate, Adonis. Goodbye.”

____________________________

“Heading home, Adler?”

Craig, the middle-aged man in the cubicle next to mine, spoke up as I stood up at my desk. His space was decorated with miscellaneous motivational signs and pictures of his smiling family. He hid a space heater under his desk, but everyone liked him too much to report it to the manager.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be done for the day too?” I responded blandly, putting on my coat and walking away. I didn’t really want to get drawn in to a long conversation, which Craig was well known for. From a distance I saw a man and a woman talking, and felt a tightening in my chest. I didn’t want to talk to them, but I couldn’t resist saying hi to her.

“Hi Anne.” I joined the conversation between the two, ignoring the flicker of frustration that crossed her expression. Hopefully she’s just tired. “… Hi Brad.” I added after a long hesitation.

They both greeted me, and fell into an awkward silence. I knew they wanted me to leave, but a strange stubbornness kept my feet rooted in place. “Have you heard about that new movie about knights and dragons that’s coming out soon?”

Anne still seemed annoyed, but showed a brief look of interest at my question. “Oh yeah! I’ve been wanting to go see that one!”

Then would you like to go with me? I bit the words back before they could slip out. It would not go over well, especially with Brad, Anne’s boyfriend standing next to me. Instead, I said something I didn’t mean. “Maybe we could all go see it as a group?”

“Maybe.” Her response was noncommittal.

“…”

After the silence stretched on too long, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Well, have a good night.”

They both waved silently at me, and returned to their conversation with one another, never sparing another glance my way.

I walked away, feeling uncomfortable.

My apartment was empty. I had considered pets, but it would be too much extra cost to the monthly lease. I turned on the light, set down my coat, and looked around with a sigh. The room was pretty bare. I had a few sparse decorations, but couldn’t be bothered to do more. All I needed was a few pieces of furniture, and multiple shelves of books. I made myself a quick microwave dinner, and since I had finished my latest book last night, went searching through the bookshelves for what I wanted to read next.

My hand paused over a well-worn book. It was a classic story, about knights and princesses and dragons. Basic, childish almost, but I always felt drawn to it. I picked it up once more, and settled down to read.

Passing a quiet evening, I got ready to sleep. I stared up at the ceiling above my bed, a strange emptiness within me.

I wonder what Anne is doing now?

A sigh escaped me. I knew she didn’t return my feelings. She didn’t even like me as a friend.

I’m just not the guy for her. And I need to be content with that.

After all, it's not like I'm the hero of a fairy tale.

With that last melancholy thought, I fell asleep, my hands still clutching the book of fairy tales.

…

And I remembered.

I remembered everything.

I was the higher-level being Adonis. Hero of the universe. Cast aside by Bel. Banished to a lower realm.

And now I was powerless.

Helpless.

Nothing.

THIS ISN’T RIGHT!!! THIS ISN’T ME!!! I AM SPECIAL. I AM MEANT FOR GREATNESS!

I AM THE HERO!

I woke up, shaking in terror and agony. My trembling hands clutched my sweat soaked face. And in the dull light of the sunrise streaming through the window into my bare and empty apartment…. I screamed.

I tried to hold onto my memories, but I could already feel them fading away. I would once again become Adler, the pencil pushing nobody who read fantasy books and nursed a silent crush on a woman at work who already had a boyfriend.

Until night came again. And I remembered once more.

This was my punishment.

This was my hell.

My only solace was that in this lower realm I was mortal. I would grow old. I would eventually die. And I would be free from this wretched existence.

My memories grew foggy, confused.

I thought of my mother, of my promise to her to be the hero of her story book. I thought of Arabella, of her bright smile that I fell in love with. I thought of Bel, our adventures, and her triumph over fate.

And I hated them all.

“NOOOOOO!” My anguished cry tore through the apartment, but there was no one around to hear it.

“I AM THE HERO!!! THEY ARE NOTHING!” I tried to scramble out of the bed, desperate to run away, to escape.

“I AM THE HERO!!!” I fell to my knees, my thoughts becoming vague.

“I AM… THE… HERO!” I desperately held onto the word. I knew it was important.

“I…. AM….”

I blinked, feeling confused.

“What was I saying?” Wiping my forehead, I grimaced as it came away with a cold sweat. “Must have had a nightmare.”

I stood up, heading to the bathroom to shower. I had a long day of work ahead of me. I had several reports due soon, and maybe… just maybe… I could catch a glimpse of Anne when I passed by on my lunch break.

As I walked towards the shower, I caught sight of my face in the mirror, and came to a stop. As I stood there, staring into my own eyes, I felt the strangest urge to scream.

But it quickly passed and I went back to getting ready for my day.

“Hopefully tonight I sleep better.” I muttered to myself, looking away and closing the door behind me.

I didn’t want to be late to work.

#writing #please fix the story #side part #adonis #fantasy #murder #no plans for redemption

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