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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

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honsoolie · 4 years

Text

don’t rush | 04

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: excessive amounts of pining, explicit smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation

words: 10.3k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: thank you for waiting... if you've stuck around this long :") i've tried so hard for the past couple months to condense this story into the original length (3 chapters) but i've gotten attached and i'm afraid that this will turn into a longfic at the rate i'm going. so after this chapter, i'll be sure to post lots of drabbles of the scenes i couldn't fit in!! thank you so much for the wild ride, and without further ado, i present to you don't rush 04.

start from the beginning?

You can’t bring yourself to fault Yoongi for what happened that morning. You also can’t bring yourself to say that it was your fault either–or even that there may be a single person to blame.

24 hours of radio silence. No good morning text, no morning after–or really, afternoon after–text. Nothing.

The thing about silence–absolute silence, with the exception the low hum of the air-con, or the distant sounds of a city, or footsteps from the room above you–is how slowly it passes. Maybe that’s why you’re a music student, spending all your time filling the silence with your own music.

Silence is such an empty space–and can breed such bored thoughts. And where else for your mind to wander but Yoongi?

It’s not that you were waiting for a text from him, it’s just that… you were half-expecting a text from him. Like he owed it to you. Even if none of this had ever happened, he would have texted you good morning by now.

At least in your head, it seems fair that the onus is on Yoongi to text first. After all, he was the one who dragged you tightly by the wrist back to his apartment. He pushed you down on his couch, and in a very roundabout way, made you late for class.

It’s not that you let this whole affair happen to you, but he started it. So it’s his job to text first. That’s the excuse you use, for not being brave enough to do it instead.

It honestly feels a little pathetic that most of your thoughts outside of music and school are occupied by Min Yoongi. Even now, weeks after you’ve started talking to him, even mere thoughts of him elicit physical reactions from you.

Your heart rate picking up, skin flushing where your neck meets your collarbone… maybe you’re allergic to Min Yoongi.

It’s hard for your mind not to run wild with conclusions and assumptions after what happened between the two of you, even if a day hasn’t elapsed yet.

Why hadn’t he texted? Does he do this often? Did he hate it? Did he ghost me, and now I’m never going to hear from him again? Should I text him first? Why is this so hard?

Why do I care so much?

The worst part is, you can’t turn it off. The thoughts follow you throughout the day, a weight sitting on your shoulders as you flit from class to class, building to building, rehearsal to rehearsal. Once the sun dips below the horizon, you’ve almost completed the process of resigning yourself to never knowing the answers to any of your questions.

You make a note to yourself that you might start grieving the loss of any sort of closure–other than what Yoongi had given you the day before. All evenings this semester have been relegated to the confines of the practice room, so that’s where you head next after chamber music rehearsals end. Finally, the Bach partita has a purpose in your life other than plaguing your waking dreams–something to focus on other than Yoongi. But for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic when it’s put like that.

Your. Life. Doesn’t. Revolve. Around. Min. Yoongi. You tell yourself, punctuating each word as you march down the stairwell in the music building. You clutch your violin case to your body, seeking warmth in the cold plastic.

The universe likes to play tricks on people, and its language is irony. Yoongi taught you that lesson, the hard way.

So it almost makes sense that the next time you encounter Yoongi is when you collide head-on with Yoongi’s smooth chest as you speed-walk through the doorway once you’re at the foot of the stairs. Just as you dreaded (and knew was going to happen anyway), your cheeks light up, some light from deep within you turning on. You kick yourself for the fact that your entire body perks up in his existence, erasing the cold and the tiredness from the night before.

“Oh–I didn’t expect to see you here.” At the very least, Yoongi doesn’t look like he hates you. Or is disgusted by you. If anything, he looks a bit coy. If you could let yourself believe it, there might even be the warmth of fondness in his eyes, and even more incredulously, maybe the hard edge of guilt.

“Didn’t expect? Yoongi, I’m here more than my own room.” You laugh despite the thoughts that have been trailing you all day, sounding something like cherry blossoms floating on the new breeze that spring has brought. You feel like you’ve forgiven him for something that he didn’t do, even if he hasn’t said anything yet.

Just seeing him makes you feel better, the devil in the back of your head whispers.

“Right, right.” His answering laughter is familiar. Even now, ever after everything, he still has the audacity to smooth his hands over your shoulders, make sure you’re intact and okay. “Violin okay? You okay?”

You try not to let his scant touches send a shiver down your spine, just so you don’t give him that satisfaction, but you fail all the same. You manage a nod, but can barely bring yourself to look in his eyes. But is it for fear of seeing that warm tenderness again, or something else?

“So…” With no prompting from you, Yoongi slides a fingertip underneath your chin. It feels simultaneously casual and momentous, and you’re not sure which one you prefer.

Is this really happening right now?

He looks deep into your eyes, taking inventory of something that you’re too self-conscious to think about right now.

Of course, you’re self-conscious. You bump into your hookup a day after the fact, now that it’s nighttime in the practice rooms on the second floor of the music building. Both of you should be somewhere else, anywhere else, preferably drunk. How could it not be awkward, and how could you not feel self-conscious?

His eyes flick lower, to your lips, and you avert your gaze. Yoongi’s hand returns to his side, and he coughs.

“Sooo…” You say, digging your foot through the carpet, the warmth of his hands lingering on your skin. You play with the buckles on your violin case, just to give your hands something to do. You hope he says something first, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it.

“Got something to say?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He coughs again.

“I thought you were going to say something,” You say, still not looking at him. It’s all you can do to not shrink away. In the dim lighting of the mouth of the hallway, there’s no way he can see your blush, but you turn away all the same.

He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t, or maybe like he’s purged the last thirty-six hours from his memory. “Let’s not be strangers, come on. Are you busy?”

“Not… particularly.” You commit to the words before you can finish the thought.

“Can you do me a favor?” Right. So he wants something from you. Of course, of course he wants something from you.

“What kind of favor?”

“I was going to print something downstairs, but now that you’re here, can you listen to my piece? I need a second opinion.” He sighs, as if remembering something sweet. “It’s time I made it even, right? I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He smiles, just barely, and yet it feels like a gift.

So that’s it. It’s confirmed. This is officially Not a Thing, you consign yourself to the fact. It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t a little bit relieved. At least you have an answer.

There’s no need for a great step forward that’s necessary. No more awkward conversations like these, no admitting of feelings, let alone reciprocation of feelings.

Nothing has to change between the two of you. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You say, like it shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. You hate that even despite his silence on the matter, you’re running back to his side. You hate that you’re happy that he still wants anything to do with you. You ignore the empty kind of ache in your chest, too hollow and too full at the same time.

You follow him down the narrow hallway, past the couch where it all began, and into the practice room. Of course, Yoongi’s already booked the only one isn’t a dingy cesspool.

He pats the space next to him on the piano bench, beckoning you closer.

“Sit down, don’t stand the whole time.”

“Don’t you need the space?”

“No, no, it’s okay. Come here.” If it’s even possible, your face burns even hotter when you sit down next to him, shoulders brushing just so. It’s harder to forget about the fact that you are hopelessly crushing on Min Yoongi when you’re literally touching him again.

It reminds you of all his touches from before, because it was good. The sex was good. If it had been awkward and fumbling, if Min Yoongi hadn’t been able to push you over the edge with only his mouth and that look in his eye, you would be a lot more inclined to leave those memories in the past.

You don’t need to relive the memory over and over, an endless reel. And yet, glimpses, flashes, disjointed stills of that morning still follow you everywhere. But you look at him now, silently flipping through the marked pages on his score, and now you see more than just a good lay. Looking at him now, in his natural state, you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, you’re whipped, there’s no chance for you.

“I don’t have it memorized yet, please don’t judge me.” You try not to think about the way he had pulled you closer by your hips. You try not to think about what you might have thought was lovesickness in his eyes. You try not to think of the timbre of his voice, when he told you to come for him. You try not to think about that.

“Really, a pianist who can’t memorize his pieces? Sacreligious.” The delivery of your jibe falls flat. You steady the ricketing breath in your lungs. You’re nervous, and tired. Accepting that your Min Yoongi has absolutely no interest in you other than when he needs you for something isn’t easy, you know.

“Oh come oooon y/n, this is something I’m learning this semester.” He pouts, just like he had before the both of you had fallen into this nebulous mess of feelings. Or maybe, it’s all one-sided and you’re the only one feeling like things have gotten messy.

You poke him in the side, which you regret immediately after doing so. “I’m just joking. Show me your piece. Are you warmed up?” Yoongi turns pink, again.

You remember the pink dusting his cheeks when he was–right, you’re supposed to be forgetting that ever happened.

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, everything moving in slow motion. Your head is swimming.

Well, maybe things aren’t moving in slow motion, and it’s the proximity to Min Yoongi that’s making time distort. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m fine. Are you ready to listen?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Yoongi hovers his hands over the keys. He does that pianist thing you’ve always loved, where he pauses before the keys, preparing to play.

He leans in slowly, sinking his hands down, pulling out a sound so sweet and, so, so solemn. This is a different Yoongi than the one thirty seconds ago.

You realize somewhat belatedly that the fluorescent lights, the same ones that erase any sort of proper time telling in windowless rooms like these, still make Yoongi look good. The light bounces off of him just right, his cheekbones casting a gentle shadow on the sloped panes of his face. Like the rest of him, there’s no harsh angles, just soft gentle slopes that feel like home. Like comfort. Your gut twists in yearning. The hollow of his cheekbone is the perfect place to kiss, you ponder.

Things should be easier now. All of it was a mistake. It’s in the past. It seems that Yoongi doesn’t seem to care at all. It should be forgotten about. Things, in theory, should be easier now. You should be able to carry on as you’ve always been able to. The path of least resistance, right?

He pauses, and begins what must be the main theme, cascading sixteenth-notes that sound about as tumultuous and troubled as you feel.

He looks like he’s about to cry. Sure, you’ve seen sleepy Yoongi, cranky Yoongi, even a little bit of earnest, pleading Yoongi. But whoever is in front of you is entirely different. He’s approaching the main theme again, hands jumping over the keys as if they were hot irons. You can see all the versions of him laid out before you. Younger Yoongi, hands too small to reach the tenths written in his score. Hungover Yoongi that shuffles into class a couple minutes late, remnants of a late night out drinking written all over his face. The Yoongi that holds your hands between his and tells you that everything is going to be okay.

When he reaches the final cadence, he doesn’t look at you immediately, still trained on the keys. His hands are still placed in the final chord, lifting them off slowly so the sound doesn’t quite fade away yet. The both of you stay like that, in the aftermath of what he just played. You hear the click as he takes his foot off the pedal. The tension that he was churning out doesn’t fade away when the sound stops. If anything, it gets worse. Blood rushes to your cheeks, the room warmer than it was before.

“So… that’s what I’ve been working on so far. I, uh, hope you liked it.” It’s shocking how that compelling spirit from just minutes ago dissipates into thin air. He looks vulnerable, naked despite the fact that he’s fully clothed.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Yoongi.” You laugh in disbelief, blinking away tears. God, you are so fucked. Sure, you’ve heard him play before, practicing with him. But you’re not practicing with him now, you’re watching. You’ve become the audience, and the dynamic has changed once again.

There’s been many a night where you googled his previous performances and competitions on Youtube, but this doesn’t compare. Not in the slightest. So this is what all your teachers were talking about when they were lecturing you about the importance of stage presence.

“Uh, wow. Wow.” You’re still tearing up, no matter how much you try to will it away.

You’re not even really sure why you’re tearing up or why you can’t stop. It’s usually difficult for music to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. Goosebumps, sure. That very specific thrill down your spine when you hear music that isn’t so much as something that you hear, but feel in your blood, thumping, alive, real.

But tears, no. That doesn’t happen.

It feels like your body is reacting to something that isn’t tangible, that you can’t see with your eyes or hear with your ears. Like there’s something else in the room that you can’t quite register. Like you’re crying despite yourself.

You desperately want to kiss him. You want to pull him close and breathe in his familar scent and feel him pull you closer. It feels like the only appropriate thing to do, rather than just say “wow” over and over, in that stupid longing voice because you don’t what else to say. This is too overwhelming. More overwhelming than what it feels like when he finally puts his hands on you.

It’s the only thing you want to do. You can’t imagine the night ending in any other way. It seems like it was prewritten in the stars, like the universe came together to stitch this scene together. Like it was fate for you to find him here, long after the sun disappeared over the horizon, practicing just like you were.

But you can’t, so you hug him. Like an absolute idiot.

You regret it as soon as your arms circle around his shoulders. Yoongi stiffens, as if startled, as if he wasn’t expecting the hug either. Then his hand come to awkwardly pat the space between your shoulder blades, as if this couldn’t get any worse. This feels like a consolation prize.

He can’t see your face nestled against his shoulder, but you cringe.

You feel the vibration of his laughter against you, his shoulders shaking, “You liked it that much?” You can feel the way his voice resonates in his chest, and like everything else about this ordeal, it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah,” You pull back away from him, relieved that the moment is over, “Yeah, I liked it. Winter Wind, right?”

“Yeah, fitting for this fucking weather.”

You laugh. “Look, thanks. But I gotta go, it’s getting late and I have a paper due tonight. Thank you, again. It’s really good.” You pick up your case, “You have good start, but keep practicing. Can’t stop until you have it memorized, ha.” You try to force a laugh.

You hope you don’t look like you’re fleeing the scene. (Except you are. You leave the building without even practicing. But you don’t tell him that.)

As you stream down the steps leading to the music building, the cool night air blotting away the swelling tears in your eyes, there’s something else that takes up residence in your heart: jealousy, and initiative.

You envy the lucky bitch that ends up with Min Yoongi. And if Yoongi won’t talk about it, then you will. You won’t let him drag you around on a whim without a real answer. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer.

Min Yoongi doesn’t like you back.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself before he goes to sleep, as if lying to himself might make sleep come more easily.

The truth is, you are Min Yoongi’s favorite bedtime story. Like many other nights before, Yoongi falls asleep thinking of you, hashing and rehashing all the little details and inside jokes and past conversations. It’s a small comfort during this semester, thoughts of you keeping him warm.

Tonight, Yoongi is replaying the conversation from earlier, the way he saw you nervously rubbed at the tough calluses on your left hand while he was playing for you, out of the corner of his eye. It made Yoongi want to make you smile, laugh at his bad jokes, and maybe, if you’d let him, gasp against his lips. It’s been less than a day since he saw you and yet he misses your laugh.

That morning after class, you had sat up, blinking away the sun filtering through his shades, or maybe trying to clear the post-orgasm fog. Post- orgasms fog. Then you mumbled something about being late for class, a thin layer of sweat shining down to your chest.

You had thanked him, then laughed at the misstep. God, you were so dorky that you thanked him. How was he ever supposed to resist you?

How had the two of you come so far?

And the guiltiest indulgences Yoongi would allow himself in the middle of the night were the things he hadn’t experienced with you. Like a kiss. He hasn’t gotten a chance to do that, not yet. Maybe not ever. Would it be chaste? Slow and romantic? Or would it be impassioned and angry?

Yoongi is particularly fond of the image of taking you to the jazz cafe a little ways away from campus. Would you wear a dress, once the weather warms up a little bit? What kind of coffee would you order? Do you even like jazz? What would it feel like to feel your hand slotted against his?

He definitely wasn’t been thinking about pushing you up against the mirror in the practice room and seeing if the soundproof padding was actually properly installed. Or about that morning after classes, and those little mewling noises you made to urge him on. You were so desperate. It was cute, to say the least.

But Yoongi wasn’t trying to think about that right now. He was thinking more about your unwavering diligence. Or the merriment in your eyes despite the tired shadows that hung beneath them. Or the way you didn’t back down from the way that he was obviously flirting with him, fighting fire with fire.

How much longer can the both of you live in denial, waiting for the other to make a tentative step forward?

The more he thinks about it–about you–the less he can comfortably stay in his little bubble of denial. Denial can only get him so far. He tells himself that whatever relationship between the two of you is inevitable, and someone is going to do something eventually, and that’s why he’s not making a move just yet.

Much of your relationship (or lack thereof) has been stepwise progression, slow steps. Graduating slowly from classmate to study partners to friends and closer, still. And now Yoongi had made this great leap and it felt like the both of you were lost amid the signals and the truths neither of you knew how to broach.

And no matter how brave he is on stage, it’s nothing compared to being up close and personal with you. Cheesily enough, it’s easy enough to show a crowd what he’s been working on for months, but with you, he has to improvise.

Truth be told, Yoongi knew he was being idealistic. The space that you two existed in had become precious to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance, until now. There’s no easy way to make this all go away. Both of you were in too deep now.

He saw the way you sighed into his touch, the way your eyes would go unfocused when he said something that was even remotely flirtatious, then then snap back to reality, as if you were reminding yourself of something. He knew you wouldn’t do anything any time soon. The past evening had shown him that.

And how was he supposed to admit his feelings for you… when he could hardly admit them to himself, in the privacy of his own room?

And now, how could Yoongi make sense of anything? Every quiet moment carried the ghost of your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way you had squeezed your eyes shut when he brought you to rapture. Even when you’re not with him, you’re filling up his senses. His thoughts.

Am I in love with my friend? Are we friends because we’re in love? Am I feeling like this because of the way she says my name? Am I feeling like this because of the way she touches me?

So those are all the reasons. To not talk to you. To talk to you. God, how the fuck was Yoongi supposed to know?

You (5:03pm): hey, I think we should talk soon

The minutes tick by. Does the time always pass this slowly, you think to yourself. Your hand hovers over your phone keyboard.

Fuck… what have I done.

You (5:15pm): that sounds sooo scary lol no pressure okay?

You grow desperate in the wake of his silence. Have you ruined it all?

Yoongi (5:30pm) yeah

Yoongi (5:31pm): sorry I was practicing

Yoongi (5:31pm): wasn’t looking at my phone

Yoongi (5:31pm): let’s talk then

Yoongi (5:32pm): where are you?

You find yourself at his apartment once again, the closed door spelling out all the possibilities in front of you. At least give him the benefit of the doubt, something reasons inside of you, but something darker says, think of what he’s put you through.

Think of what you’ve put yourself through, you finally think. You’ve stood outside long enough. You’ve overwrought this, alone, long enough.

Each knock that you rap against the door sounds like another nail in the coffin, but you still cling onto the last dregs of hope left in you.

The door opens immediately, a rush of warm air enveloping you from outside. “Hey,” Yoongi says, shyly, almost demure in his lounge clothes and undone hair.

You want to take him apart.

“Hey,” You mirror, and try to pretend like Min Yoongi hasn’t stolen the breath out of you for what seems like the thousandth time. You hate that he has this effect on you. With nothing but a simple greeting, it seems like you’ve forgiven him for all your grief already. You try to push that feeling further down, trying to stay objective.

Yoongi leads you to his couch. “Here… sit down. It’s cold outside, I made tea,” He says, padding into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything else, but it looks like he knows exactly what you want to talk about. There’s something in the little tick in his jaw that tells you he’s just as sure as you are, but you’re tired of guessing. Your eyes are blurring from looking in between the lines for so long.

There’s a big difference between overt facts and implied certainties. Fact: You and Yoongi are friends who study together, and now, ex-hookups. Implied: There’s something more there, something between friend and one-time hookup.

“Um, what did you want to talk about?” Yoongi says, setting down a steaming mug in front of you. You don’t reach for it.

“I–” You steel yourself for the words to tumble out of your mouth, but you lose your nerve. You had prepared a whole monologue on the walk to his apartment, but it doesn’t seem right now. You sigh, loosening the tension in your shoulders. “I wanted to talk about… about the last time I was at your apartment.” You hope it’s enough for him to get your point, and you hope that he’ll be honest and direct. He owes at least that much to you.

“What about last time? Like specifically, what about last time?” Yoongi says, not flippantly. Please, you silently plead, please… just say something good.

“Yoongi,” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come, “What happens now? What does it mean? Please, just be honest.” When you hear your voice leave your body, you can hear how pained you sound. It wasn’t something you intended. You match his gaze and his eyes are like mirrors. “Yoongi… whatever you say, I won’t be angry. I just–I just want to know how you feel.” Your voice trembles. You hope you don’t sound as pathetic and humiliated as you feel, the scorned hookup.

Worse yet, the scorned hookup who didn’t get the hint the first time.

“No, no. You deserve the truth.” He sets his mug on the table, and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t use a coaster. “I’ll, um, tell you my side of the story. Just to be clear I’m not like, mad at you, or anything like that. I’m also not the type to fuck and go… even though it looks like that. And I’m not like, going to ghost you or anything. Unless you want me to do that. In that case,” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, lingering on the nape of his neck, “I’ll do that.”

“Can you do something for me, y/n? Can you just–” Yoongi holds his hands out in front of him, and he clasps his hands between yours. He always knows exactly how to comfort you, even now.

He sighs. “I wasn’t… expecting everything to happen like this. y/n, I… Just let me think about what to say for a second. But I promise, you’ll get the explanation you’re owed.” Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out.

You sit like that for what seems like a long, stretched out moment, your hands clasped in Yoongi’s, his brow furrowed.

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” You burst out.

Yoongi clears his throat. “Okay, look. I have… a lot of… okay, I just, I wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing. And that morning in class, I rushed everything and after that I wasn’t sure how to approach you. Then when I saw you in the music building afterward, I just wanted to talk to you… to make sure you were okay. I saw you and I blanked. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to do without making it weird. That’s a shitty reason, but I blanked and didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“So,” You blink, frustrated, confused, flushed hot with embarrassment and maybe a little bit of arousal, “Okay,” You say. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So… why did it happen? Why… why did we…”

Your eyes sting, and you breathe deeply, as if you might run out of words. “Was it all in my head?”

Yoongi’s clammy hands tighten around yours, as if he’s afraid you’ll leave.

“No,” Yoongi exhales, “No, it wasn’t.”

Your body is running hot and cold. It feels like something in the air has been punctured, all the tension, all the doubts, rushing away. Something new rushes in.

“I spent all this time guessing and wondering and hoping. I ran myself ragged with all my thinking. It’s not your fault, mostly, but I’m so tired. Of guessing.”

He smiles. Well, smirks, in that Yoongi fashion that makes it feel like the top of your head is spinning. “Stop thinking so much then.”

“It was–” Yoongi’s voice breaks, rips in half. “It was a mistake,” Yoongi lies. You know he’s lying. You can tell from the way his eyes are looking everywhere on your face but your eyes. You can tell from the way that he wrings his hands, like he’s reading a pre-written apology from behind the camera. “I’m so, so confused about everything. This isn’t going the way I thought it would–not that–it’s just my words aren’t coming out like I thought they would. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.”

Yoongi sighs, “I thought this would be easier.” And when you look at him again, you can see the pink on his cheeks. And how dilated his pupils are, and the decreasing proximity between his lips and your lips, because again Yoongi is still death-gripping your hands in his. If you could let yourself entertain the idea, he might be pulling you closer.

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” You say. You lean away from him, hoping that the energy in the room will simmer down if you’re not centimeters away from falling into his arms. You need to hear him talk more, say everything, explain himself. You can’t leave this room without knowing more, you won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth and the full truth. You really don’t have the energy to wait more.

“Well, even before everything–” And this is where Yoongi waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. He doesn’t elaborate, although you suppose “before the almost-handjob in class and the whole mouth-fucking each other on your couch” is a bit of a mouthful.

“Even before everything– I knew you liked me. Like, you can’t even be surprised that I knew. Because you were really obvious. Like so obvious. But yeah. I knew, and I thought it was cute, and it was super flattering.”

You open your mouth for a response, but you concede that he’s right. You flush ever hotter.

Yoongi’s voice drops a little lower, like he’s telling you a secret, “And it was so fun to mess with you. Like, I could make this cute fucking girl blush and giggle and squirm and it was all because of me, how can I not be flattered? How can I not want to spend more time with you, push all your buttons? I figured you’d eventually do something about it. But you never did, no matter how much I pushed it with you. I wanted you to make the first move. But we started getting closer, and I thought maybe you were never going to do anything about it. Like we agreed to be friends, but on the inside we both liked each other? I didn’t want that to happen, but I was too scared to just go and ask you out. So I was getting frustrated. So that morning, I was just messing around with you again. I wanted to annoy you during class, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it. But you–I guess you were frustrated too, because you called me on my bluff. And then, you know, one thing leads to another and we’re somehow at my apartment, which I barely remember how we got there in one piece before–” Yoongi stops, breathless and something tender sparkling in his eyes. His hands aren’t gripping you like you might run away, just resting on the tops of your knees. Reminding you that he’s there.

“And now, in the present, I’m just confused? Did I like you before or after we…” He trails off, bashful still, even now. “Or do I feel like this now because we were together? And does that even matter now, because I like you regardless?”

All the blood has rushed away from your chest. It feels like someone has knocked all the air from you but also as if a winch has tightened ever-so around your heart.

“Let’s take it slow, if that’s something you want. Nobody…” You grapple for something to say, after that hell of a fucking lovesick speech, “Nobody said that you needed all the answers now. Don’t rush.” You take his hands back into yours.

The weight of it all hits you slowly, in successive waves. You don’t have to filter anything out, never have to make yourself feel appropriate for him. When you practice with him, study with him, eat with him… all the quiet spaces and body-wracking laughter just feel like a perfect fit. Nothing out of place. There’s never a conversation topic or something to stray away from, other than circumventing the feelings you have for him. Even then, it’s not like Yoongi pretends like the attraction isn’t there. He doesn’t skirt around it, avoid it like taboo conversation. It really only serves to amplify your conversations, a red thread pulled taut underneath everything else.

And now, you can give into that? You can show him how you really feel, and there’s just one less thing to hide?

“You know, you’re not blameless. I was super stressed out at the time, and with the Bach Festival and midterms and everything I guess… you gave me the opportunity to lessen that a little, so. I know, I know. It’s a shitty excuse. But I wanted things with you and with the way that things converged, it seemed like–”

“Serendipity?”

“A bit like that, yes.” You tighten your hands around his, and he pulls you a little closer. You’re leaning over his lap now.

You can’t choose whether to look into his eyes or at his lips. It looks like Yoongi has the same problem. He pulls you imperceptibly closer.

“Can I kiss you? If that’s not rushing, of course.”

“Yeah. Yes, please.” You soften yourself into his lap, Yoongi pulling you closer by the shoulders, sliding down to rest on your arms. You relish in the sensation, knowing it’s something that you can enjoy with a reassured heart now.

He plants a closed kiss against your lips, and somehow that makes your heart flutter more than anything else he’s ever done before. The pads of his fingertips are soft and gentle against your arms, pulling you closer by the bicep.

“I like you… I like you a lot…” Yoongi whispers against your lips, laughing at the confession. So sweet, so soft.

“I like you too…” You whisper, kissing back. Slow, chaste, if a bit restrained. The realization hits you again, slowly, like an ocean wave washing over wet sand.

Yoongi likes you back. Yoongi wants you back. You laugh at how absurd it sounds, even in your own head, nipping at his lip. “Say it again, Yoongi.”

“I like you…” Yoongi sounds coy.

You smile against him, “Say it again,” You gasp, pushing him back on the couch, gentle but firm, “I like you too, in case you didn’t know.” You can’t help but laugh. Not at the absurdity at the situation, but just out of happy shock.

“y/n, I like you…” Yoongi chuckles, deep in his chest, looking up at you. His hair falls out of his eyes.

“Do you know how happy it makes me, to hear you say that?”

You’re honestly surprised that you don’t have whiplash. Whiplash from the weeks of tension and denial, feeling like you would never get this relief, but now you have a whole new set of problems. Dating Min Yoongi.

This whole “taking it slow” thing is fucking bullshit. The past couple weeks have been one long sustained effort, some kind of marathon in testing the waters, drawing back and then pushing forward.

Maybe you spoke too soon. You have to admit that the slow build, chaste romantic courtship is nice .

The study dates are more than nice. The coffee shop dates feel almost luxurious, expensive in time in the same way that the actual coffee is cheap.

Actually, all of this is a lot nicer than having to guess his every intention, the message between the lines. But you already know what it’s like to have Min Yoongi.

In fact, things have been largely the same for the past couple weeks, except now you can feel the weight of his flirtatious jokes. You can now confidently say that Yoongi says what he means. The more time you spend with Yoongi, the more liberated you feel in letting yourself delight in the feeling of being allowed to show your feelings for him, and having them be duly reciprocated.

After the confessional evening the both of you had, Yoongi had agreed to take it slow. In your lovesick state, you probably would have said yes to anything that Min Yoongi put on the table. Which is probably why you agreed to the whole courtship thing.

“y/n… think about it like this! If we take our time then when the time finally comes… to… uh, you know, then it’ll be so much more gratifying. And I want to be with you more, like this,” Yoongi says, as you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his words.

“Delayed gratification, have you ever heard of that?” Yoongi had said, smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“Although from my experience with you, I think you like instant gratification more,” He said, a touch darker. Your memory blurs now, because that was about the time he started tickling you relentlessly. And then kissing you relentlessly.

And at the time, you had agreed. The delayed gratification would make everything better, make the world a little more rose-colored than before.

You don’t want to push his boundaries, he doesn’t want to push yours, but now it’s begun nearly feels both of you are so afraid of each other that you haven’t touched each other in what seems like fucking forever–and it’s reached a boiling point, from what you can gather this evening.

The newfound tension between the two of you is new, maybe a day or two at most, but annoying nonetheless.

“Y/n, how many times have I told you? Stop rushing. Do you need me to count your part out? One, two, three, four.” He punctuates every count with a clap in your face, and a sneer to boot.

Yoongi has been especially volatile this evening. His normal jokes and jabs at you fall just short of endearing. Your initial approach at remedying the situation by focusing on the music at hand has only seemed to make things worse, and you’ve given in to your slowly-growing temper.

“I am fucking counting, and I’m not the one playing fucking half notes, okay? How about you just focus on making the harmony, I don’t know, harmonious ?” You lower your violin, face screwing up in anger, only you don’t know how much of it is joking anymore.

You don’t know how much longer you can take this kind of tension in the air. It feels angry and red and biting, but you can’t help it. The stale air-conditioned air in the practice room only seems to make your face warmer and warmer as time passes.

All this tension, and no release. That’s what music is all about. The build-up of musical intensity, the expectation and anticipation for resolution. It’s like you’ve been stuck on the same chord of a cadence, waiting for a release that feels like it isn’t coming anytime soon.

You take a deep breath, the frustration tightening in your chest. “From measure eighty-four, and take the fucking repeat this time. Let’s just move onto the next section after this, we’ll just come back to it later.”

You fight the urge to huff and sigh, knowing it would only earn you a comment from Yoongi about being, as he had put it, ‘wound up.’ Yeah, no shit, you’re wound up. Wound up is putting it lightly. Just last week Yoongi had made a mess of you at his apartment, teasing you apart and then stopping just short of an orgasm. And he said the same thing last week too: delayed gratification.

You try again, cueing him in with a sharp breath and the uptake of your bow.

And again, and again, and again.

“This isn’t working.” You set your violin on the soft lining of your case and rub your temples, resting your upper body on the body of the piano. You swipe the back of your hand across your face, breathing in the clean smell of the hand soap from Yoongi’s apartment bathroom, from when you were there a couple hours ago. Warm. Brown sugar. It feels like his embrace–if only you’d ever feel it again.

God, why did you let him push all your buttons? All evening–ever since the two of you left his apartment to come to the practice rooms–he’s been acting like this. You know it has something to do with you, another game. But you don’t have the energy to divine his ulterior motive, whatever it is. You shut your eyes to provide some reprieve from the strain of staring at the same phrase that you have been stuck on for what has felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, this isn’t fucking working,” He says. It reminds you of the way he talked to you when you found him practicing in the early morning that one Tuesday. You only open your eyes when you hear him get up from his bench.

Min Yoongi is standing too close to you. His eyes are on your lips and not your eyes. Even in the dim light of the practice room, you can see how dilated his pupils are.

You meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, more breathless than he’d like to admit, “You’re provoking me. Why?”

“Who said I was trying to do that? I think you,” You point a finger at his chest, looking into his eyes, “Are provoking me.” You try to sound as petulant as possible, and it works.

Yoongi’s lips meet yours before you can even take your hands off of him.

In the best sense of the word, you are cornered. Backed up against the piano, enclosed by his arms. He slips his hands up underneath the cotton of your sweatshirt, pulling you flush against him. His cool fingertips grazing the small of your back have you gasping against his soft lips.

“Tell me, why are you provoking me?”

“I, well-” You don’t continue with an excuse, because you’re finally getting what you want. What you both want.

He presses on. “Gonna answer my question, or are you just gonna keep being a little brat?” He wedges his thigh between your legs, closer to where you need him most. You stifle a moan, it’s too soon to be making those kinds of sounds, but you grind down on him anyway. “What?” He laughs, the sound sitting deep in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

You try to focus on the possessiveness in the way that he holds you by the waist, so you’re not thinking about how weak your knees are.

He sighs, as if in disappointment. Only you’re not sure who it’s directed towards.

“If I touch you right now, will you be wet?” He laughs. “I don’t even have to guess.” The ghost of his breath fans against your upper lip. “Is this what you want? Do you, do you, want to keep going?” Yoongi stops his ministrations. When you meet his eyes, both of you breathless, you can see the inquiring concern in his eyes again.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you say, trying, and failing, not to sound frantic, “Only if you’ll see it through to the end this time,” You bite.

He laughs, devoid of mirth. “You say that like it’s not hard for me, either.” His hands trail down your torso to rest at the waist of your jeans. You don’t want to pseudo-argue with him anymore, so you just whine a little from the back of your throat, hoping he’ll get the point.

You don’t want him to think that this isn’t what you want, because truth be told, it is exactly what you want. Your hands come to meet his when you reach to undo the button.

“You know exactly what to do.” He laughs, lighter this time. He’s laughing like he’s not mad at you. He helps undo your jeans, pushing them and your panties just past your thighs. You gasp when he starts rubbing gentle circles on your clit. His fingers slip against your wet, slippery pussy.

Yoongi is everywhere. He’s crowding your space against the wall, hand down your pants, the other holding your neck in place. It’s getting overwhelming with his beautiful hand rubbing little circles on your clit. So simple, and yet it feels like you’re breaking apart underneath him. It’s getting harder and harder to bite back the moans, stay in control.

“You know, these rooms are soundproof. Let me hear you,” He murmurs, pulling you closer. “Stop hiding from me.”

Yoongi shifts his attention from your wet cunt to the collar of your shirt. “What’s this? Getting busy without me?” Yoongi brushes his free hand over the circular dark mark coloring the crook of your jaw. You’re starting to get impatient with all this teasing, how much more can you take?

“Haven’t you ever heard of a violin hickey?” You spit, grinding down on his hand, but it’s not enough. God, it really has been too long since he last touched you. He never stops the gentle advance he makes on your clit, never faster, never slower. Just barely enough. “We were just practicing, it gets darker when I play.” You try to explain yourself, as if that might make him show mercy later on.

“You’re not in any position to talk back right now, don’t forget that.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking gently. “I’ll just help you add to your little collection.” Your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you. It’s been so long since anyone has held you so closely.

Your desperation is beginning to show. With every movement of his hands, Yoongi starts to lessen his touch, your hips dogging his hand. You come to the realization that you’re not above begging to get what you want. He doesn’t even have to ask.

He continues his gentle assault on your clit. “Do you know what these mirrors are for? They’re for checking your posture as you practice, but I guess this is just a different kind of practice.” He turns you around, your hips digging into the wood panelling of the piano. You’re confronted by your own fucked-out reflection, flushed and panting. You’re still mostly clothed, and yet you look debaucherous, like some ancient painting of a study into the nuances of female pleasure. “Look at you. All messy. And for what? I’ve barely touched you.”

The frustration is too much, reaching a boiling point. “Please, I swear to God.” You bury your hands in your head, wiping away frustrated tears. Your legs are trembling now, now that Yoongi is only using one of his arms to brace you against him.

“Please, what?” He digs his nails into the soft skin of your hip, and you can’t help but like it. He lowers his head so it’s level with your ear, sultry, low. “Use your words.”

“Can’t you just, just-” Again, you buck your hips against his hand, as if that might make him get the point, only for him to nip at your inner thigh with his hand.

“Don’t rush me, babe.” Babe. Min Yoongi is calling you babe. Is the universe playing some trick on you?

He takes advantage of your position and leverages his knee on the inside of yours, spreading your legs further. “That’s it, just take it. Take it.” Finally, he takes pity on you and slips a finger inside. He earns an answering gasp. You can tell he means business, because he doesn’t take it slow, he doesn’t let you adjust, going directly at that spot inside of you that makes you keen for him.

You struggle to stay upright, eyes rolling back. Your fingers scrabble along the dark wood of the piano, struggling to find purchase.

“Fuck, Yoongi…”

“So needy, look at you, so fucking needy...” He drives his point home further by adding a second finger.

“I’m sooooo sorry… how can I ever make it up to you…?” Even despite the mind-bending pleasure and the prospect of Min Yoongi blowing your back out this evening, you roll your eyes.

“What if someone hears?” Your point is lost when Yoongi changes the angle of his hand, and you break off into a ragged whimper. It’s loud enough to make you embarrassed to have made that sound in the presence of another person.

“Oh, so you care about that now?” “What about that one time in class,” Yoongi all but pants in your ear, digging his nails into your thigh, “That you were being a desperate little cocktease?”

You don’t answer, shame stoking the embers in your belly, driving lower and lower. You hate, and love, that he can make you feel like this with only some stern wording and a firm hand. Because it feels that good. Because you like him that much.

“What then, hmm?” Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response however, before he’s yanking your jeans and panties further down your thighs. “Do me a favor. Touch yourself for me. Show me.”

“Why?”

“Wanna see you all messy for me,” Yoongi says, voice silky soft, liquid sex. He guides your hand down to your pussy, and god, you realize just how embarrassingly wet you are for such little foreplay. “Please?” He presses his chest flush to your back, leaning his forehead into the crook of your neck.

You oblige him. You’re wet to the point where it’s difficult to find purchase against your clit. “Okay… but you have to forgive me.”

“Forgive you for what?”

“For being needy…” You say, sweetly.

“Sure. I’ll forgive anything you do if you do this every time.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact.

You giggle, like a lovesick idiot. At the very least, you’re glad that Yoongi can make you laugh even when you’re half-play-fighting, half-on-the-verge-of-having-sex-in-your-favorite-practice room.

The vibrations of your laughter traveling through your body have you moving in new, novel ways against your own hand, and you break off into a moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He sounds genuine, and the tenderness of the moment isn’t lost to you, even despite your pleasure. At least now that you’re touching yourself, you don’t have to suffer the patient wrath of Yoongi and can touch yourself the way that you see fit.

You feel his free hand nudge against the back of your thigh and when you look, he’s dragging the heel of his hand across his pants.

Fuck. Fuck, you are so wrecked for Min Yoongi.

“No, you too,” you say, “Show me too.”

Yoongi moves away from you, pushing his waistband past his hips. He’s gripping his cock in one hand. He’s reaching for your waist again, his hand traveling up to grasp your throat. He jerks your head back. “Look, look at yourself.”

The combined sensation of his hand on your neck and own hand on your pussy is too much. Your eyes water. “Yoongi,” You gasp, “I’m going to come.”

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He wrenches your hand away, and the sudden lack of touch is almost cruel.

You buck against him, his back to you. “Please, please let me come, I can’t–you can’t do this again, fuck,” Your desperation comes out in whines, all shame lost.

“Be patient, come here.” He turns you around again, your back against the wood of the piano. And you’re looking into his eyes, dark and filled with something like lust. Min Yoongi wants you. You reach up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

Yoongi’s on your clit again, drawing light circles, testing the wetness before slipping a finger inside again. “I wanna hear you,” He says, adding another finger, more tenacity behind his strokes. He rocks his thumb against your clit. “I wasn’t asking.”

Up until now you’ve been biting your lip, muffling your cries as best as you can. You look up at him again, drawing up your courage. You feel exposed–how can you not, half-naked in the practice room, when you’re not completely confident that the soundproof padding on the walls can contain the sounds of your rapture.

“You-you fuck me so good Yoongi–” And you keen, just because he asked you to.

He stops in his fucking tracks. Again.

“Well. You fuck me so well. You can’t describe a verb with an adjective. God, I really shouldn’t let you come…”

“Oh my God, are you really going to do this right now.” You bear down on his hand with your hips again, seeking more friction. “Please… please, I can’t wait anymore.” You can hardly finish your sentence, as Yoongi fucks into you with a particularly hard thrust. You’re finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, instead opting to rest your head on his shoulder.

God, he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and the melting snow outside, warm and human and reassuring.

You can feel his smile ghosting over your neck as he leans down to suck another mark into your collarbone. “Yes, yes, I am.”

“I’m–I’m getting close again,” You say, fisting your hands in his shirt, “Just, ah–” It takes you by surprise, crashing over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to stay upright, pulling Yoongi against you. You can feel his satisfied smile, as he pants against the curve of your neck, hot and heady and everything you need.

“Good?” He asks, after your breathing has calmed, even though you know that he knows that he’s done more than a good job.

“Okay, okay, enough bragging,” You half-laugh, half-scoff, pulling your pants up past your hips again.

“I wasn’t bragging,” He whines. It’s endearing, and you pepper his face with kisses before you get to business again.

You sink to your knees before him, and his expression immediately softens. You try to bridge the gap between the two of you, placing the palm of your hand on his thigh. Asking for permission.

“Are you sure?” He says, but the expression in his eyes saying something to the effect of “I really hope you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say, smiling as you tease the head of his cock with your parted lips. You replace his hand with yours. It’s barely any contact, really, but Yoongi closes his eyes in pleasure nonetheless, head tilted back. Normally, in any other situation like this, you’d be at least a little bit nervous. Or shy, hoping that Yoongi keeps his eyes closed so he’s not looking at you. But the absolute deprivation you’ve felt for the past couple weeks is enough for you to not care.

You sink lower, in the wake of remembering how pent up and frustrated you’ve felt for the past couple weeks. You even, at least try to, bat your eyelashes at him. But like you guessed (or had hoped), his eyes are squeezed shut. You try not to delight in the sudden change of power too much, but it’s impossible not to.

He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, groaning. “You’re so good to me.” You take him further in your mouth, eager to please. Eager to hear him make more of those sounds. Eager to take this further.

You try your best to make it slick, flattening your tongue against him. You’re a little out of practice, after months of being alone, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. And if he does, he’s still enjoying himself. Thoroughly.

“Fuck, fuck,” He gasps, in hushed whispers.

“What a mouth on you…” Yoongi moves stray hairs out of your face, surprisingly tender given the lewdness of the situation. The sounds of your mouth fill the practice room, although hopefully not loud enough to expose your vulnerable position. You truly hope that the soundproof padding lining the walls works as advertised.

“Ah–ah wait, I’m getting close, wait–ah, y/n, fuck,” He rasps. You don’t let up quite yet, letting him sit in that in-between space between ‘on the edge’ and ‘letting go’. His free hand makes a weak fist against his leg.

Someone knocks on the door. Your first thought is that it may be security wrapping up rounds for the night.

Your eyes widen in shock as you stand upright and zip up your jeans. The surge from adrenaline at the prospect of getting caught in the act makes your head pulse and spin. Your heart seems to have fallen from the left side of your chest all the way into the pit of your stomach.

It’s hard to remember how aroused you were, not thirty seconds ago.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” For someone who was quite literally about to be balls-deep inside you, Yoongi tucks his dick back inside his pants with a surprising amount of tact and speed.

Yoongi is fixing his hair in the practice mirror as you cross the room at the piano bench, pulling out your phone to make it look like the two of you were just dawdling or taking a practice break.

Maybe twenty seconds have elapsed since the first knock at the door, which you reason might be a reasonable time for someone to stop practicing, and walk to the door to answer it. You hope it might seem reasonable.

You can feel the pulse in your neck moving as Yoongi opens the door. You train your eyes on your phone screen, as if that might make you more nonchalant.

“Hey, Yoongi-hyung.” The voice at the door is youthful, and energetic. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here this late. I was looking for you!” You finally muster up the courage to stop staring at your phone, your eyes venturing to the other side of the room.

It’s… Jungkook?

Jungkook, as in, the only bassoonist in the department, Jungkook?

Jungkook must have had the same idea as you, because he looks over at you at the same time you do.

His smile falters, albeit briefly. Whatever replaces it is something akin to a smirk. A knowing smirk. An accusatory smirk. A proud smirk.

“Hyung, who’s that?”

#armywriterssupport #btsgoldnet #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader

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swimfuel · 3 years

Text

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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ngl voyager gets a whole lot of very disproportional hate from the fandom and i'd hazard a guess that a lot of that is just garden-variety misogyny (and probably racism mixed in, considering how many of the most prominent characters are women, poc, or both). like, is voyager perfect? absolutely not. and no spoilers but there was a lot of executive meddling that wound up leading to the finale/conclusion being lacking and there's a lot of reasonable dissatisfaction with that--but again that was largely thanks to the execs fucking the show over and i recommend looking into that if you can once you've finished the show. but overall? voyager is trek right to its very core--it has heart, it's about family, and it never loses sight of that imo, even if some episodes are weaker or just duds (but, like, would it be a trek series without some episodes that just kinda suck but are still fun to watch???)

anyway, i absolutely love that you're getting into voyager, it is my all-time favorite trek series to this day for a lot of reasons, and i hope that ppl like that anon dont put you off bc i'd love to continue to see your thoughts as you watch the series!

Oh, it would take a whole lot more than some anons being salty that others enjoy things to turn me off :D

Thus far (I lost internet last night so I’m still only on Episode 7 of Season 2), Voyager is the Trekiest Trek I’ve watched. Which is a weird sentence, but I mean it in the way you said it’s “trek right to its very core.” What is Star Trek, if we strip the intent of the story down to its basics? It’s about exploration, discovery, that “wagon train to the stars,” wrapped up in the argument that life is fundamentally good. We have problems, but we can work past them. We have differences, but they strengthen us. Diversity is the lifeblood of the universe and the future will continue to improve so long as we embrace that.

Voyager is (again, from what I’ve seen so far!) basically a love song to that premise. I didn’t do too deep a dive because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but I did look at a couple threads discussing why Voyager is so hated. Again and again I saw the same reason pop up: wasted potential. Now, a lot of fans left it at that (as if the answer to what potential Voyager apparently missed out on is self-evident. It’s not), but those who did expand on the idea consistently claimed that the show needed to be darker than it was, even if they rarely said it like that. Why aren’t the Federation and the Marquis at each other’s throats? Why isn’t the crew going crazy under these circumstances? Why aren’t characters getting killed off left and right in hostile space? “Anything could have happened out there and they played it safe!” but the “anything” here is always... awful. There’s this very pervasive idea that the world is inherently cruel, people are inherently divisive, that when pushed to the brink everything will fall apart... and that (while making for one kind of great story) is very much not Star Trek.

See, Voyager created an unimaginable scenario--lost in space, 75 years from home, forced to live indefinitely with strangers--and their answer to the question of “What happens?” is “People make it work.” They learn to respect one another, they uphold their ideals, they maintain a love of life and discovery, and they create a family. And that’s fucking fantastic. That’s Star Trek! I’m not going to pretend there aren’t problems with the show, with plenty more to come, I’m sure, but I don’t think this is one of them. Why do so many viewers think that hatred, horror, death, and growing jaded is the only potential here? Why would they expect that in a Star Trek show whose premise is the very antithesis of those things?

“But they don’t do enough with those things, even if they have happy outcomes.” They do plenty, they just do it in an episodic rather than serialized nature. I can point to multiple episodes where the replicator rations or Maquis differences are driving the characters’ actions. “But without that horror there’s no conflict.” There’s plenty of conflict. Hostile aliens aside, I just watched an episode where Tuvok and Chakotay are pissed as hell at one another because they fundamentally disagree over how to handle problems, but--because they’re adults with a well-tested respect for one another--they apologize and work through it. “But the characters don’t develop at all.” You mean they don’t grow harder. That’s not the same thing as no development. Tuvok is figuring out how to be more flexible, Chakotay is becoming more willing to accept cultures he doesn’t agree with, Harry is growing more confident now that he’s far from home, the Doctor is learning to see himself as a person, Paris is grabbing his second chance with both hands by making strong ties, and Janeway is learning to command and care for her crew simultaneously. I honestly believe that a lot of people think of “character development” as the character becoming a fundamentally different person, unrecognizable from where they started out. But characters can also grow into the people they wanted to be in the first place. “We’re far from home, in hostile territory, tempted to do horrific things to survive... but no. Right now at least, we’re holding onto who we are. We’re scientists, so we’re going to explore and learn. We’re peaceful, so we’re going to make friends with as many species as we can. We’re members of a society that teaches acceptance, so we’re going to form a family on this spaceship.” That’s incredible!! Did fans miss why Seska was an antagonist in the episode she was unmasked? Because she was trying to convince them to give up everything they believe in in the name of survival, an ends justify the means argument. And the crew said no, we will not give up what we believe in just to make it through. I legit saw a ton of fans saying some version of, “I can’t believe they were that far from home and actually followed Starfleet’s rulebook.” It’s because those rules don’t exist for the hell of it. Overlooking their practical function, they’re a philosophy that the characters believe in, and they’re figuring out how important that part of their identity is to them under these circumstances. Am I willing to steal a specie’s technology if it gets us home? Am I willing to die to help another uphold their own philosophy? (Chakotay in “Imitations”). What regulations should we bend or change to accommodate our new situation? The first two things Janeway does are a) giving the guy who just came out of a penal colony a rank and b) deciding that she needs to be more familiar with her crew than is normally encouraged for a captain because she’s essentially their mom now. Developing doesn’t have to mean characters do a 180 on their initial personality, or characters getting killed off when stuff gets “boring” so that others can do edgy things in response.

Voyager upholds Trek’s premise and runs it to its logical conclusion:

Voyager has the most literal trek--a trek back home.

Voyager has the most diverse crew--a woman Captain, Native American First officer, black Vulcan, Asian-American communications officer, and a White Dude pilot that realizes he wants to be soft and kind towards those who took a chance on him because Toxic Masculinity who?

Voyager has the most literal family--not just a 5+ year mission, but a crew who expects to raise the next generation. They have no choice but to work together, so they indeed come together rather than pulling apart

Except they do, of course, have a choice. In “The 37′s” the crew is allowed to stay on the Earth-like planet with a city of other humans and Janeway is convinced that a sizable number will choose that. After all, they may never get home and this is a safer, kinder future for them. In fact, the real question is whether so many will stay that they can no longer run the ship... but Janeway would never dictate her crew’s choices in that manner. So she swallows her worry down, opens the door...

... and finds that not a single person decided to stay behind. And the show has ensured we understand that this is not just because they all have some unshakable belief that they’ll get home (many don’t), but because this is their family now. This is home.

And fans want to toss that out for a generic, gritty, sci-fi adventure where hope is scarce, the universe is cruel, and people need to be pushed to the limit just to admit that they maybe, sort of, like each other?? Obviously like what you like, but that’s a hard pass for me. I’ll take the bridge crew comforting each other in “Twisted,” thanks. Besides, we already have shows like that. And we already have DS9 which grapples with many of those dark, pessimistic themes. Voyager feels like a breath of fresh air, even within the breath of fresh air that is Star Trek as a franchise. It’s a show that says, “Yes, when everything goes wrong people will come together. They will love each other. They will make it through.”

What’s more Star Trek than that?

#star trek #ST #mymetas #Anonymous

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boykingsofhell · 4 years

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3,6,20,27,64

3) Describe the different ways in which liminality shifts as a central theme in Supernatural (or a specific arc/character given)

Liminality is super interesting regarding both Winchester brothers because they both straddle the line between the more normal and more deranged brother at different times. Sam is the boy with the demon blood, black eyes and blood dripping down his face, and he is the man with a white picket fence and a house in suburbia. He is the man who left Stanford thinking he had something he could come back to. Dean is dreaming of suburbia and fast cars in the same thought, normality whilst “it was always going to end like this for me” rings through his head. Dean is alienated from a suburban life and his obsession with hunting further alienated himself. Liminality in spn rests so deeply on the boy’s childhood, in the space between scenes where we understand the boys have never had somewhere to come back to. This shifts in season 8 with the introduction of the bunker, but the bunker and their father’s legacy is just a new form of alienation from their family and from “normal” people.

6) Do you have any psychological headcanons (or canon interpretations) of the characters?

Dean has ADHD (you know I’m right, he is whip smart yet struggled in academic settings and can’t keep attention on things that aren’t interesting to him, what does that remind me of???) Cas and Jack are autistic (I love them) and Sam has chronic not-quite-right syndrome in the way he will never let himself or anyone else try to understand.

20) What is your favourite part of season 3?

I am Obsessed with the scene in 3.10 where Dean says “my father was an obsessed bastard! All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam, that was his crap. He's the one that couldn't protect his family! I don’t deserve to die, and I don’t deserve to go to hell” or something like that not like I memorised it haha. But anyway it’s such a cathartic scene, Dean simultaneously realising his own self worth AND stopping blaming himself for his father’s actions. I would have loved for spn to contend with this more because it was a great start in an arc of Dean recognising his past and abuse and moving past it, rather than just. never criticising John Winchester again.

27) How do you think the angels fit into the species ecosystem of the Supernatural universe? how do monsters? are monsters grouped together in your mind in some way other than the fact they are hunted?

OK SO I am currently doing my degree in politics AND a class in philosophy for context. But how we classify groups of people is inherently political and reveals as much about our own biases as the other groups. In my head, angels are classed as beings in the same way as many of the (culturally butchered) pagan gods. Also, monsters as a category are used to dehumanise the Other, by grouping non-sapient creatures in with groups which are basically Humans With A Disease/Powers, like werewolves. Using monsters as a broad level enables hunters to indiscriminately perpetuate violence towards non-humans, regardless of the threat they actually present to the public. Some hunters would classify witches as monsters. Is this how they justify killing them? Long story short, in my head for all supernatural beings that could be classified as monsters, there are two categories, creatures (like the scarecrow), and nonhumans. Because nonhumans can include any supernatural nonhuman creature, like vampires, werewolves, or sirens. Some of these creatures are definitely evil most of the time but! like we’ve seen with Garth this isn’t always the case and is a more neutral definition. tbh with other “monsters” like psychic kids or witches, well, they’re just humans with powers.

64) What are the central themes of Supernatural to you? Did the finale counter or reinforce them? Shape them?

Rem you are too bigbrained with your smart questions. HOWEVER I will attempt to answer. I think the central themes are loss, perseverance, family, and alienation. The others are self explanatory, but there’s the canon alienation of both the Winchesters and many they know from normal life, alienation from their relationships with each other, alienation with how most people see the world, as a place without monsters whilst they know the truth. Ultimately, whether spn wanted to be or not, it is a tragedy. A downwards spiral that never lifts, and ends with two main characters dead and another trapped in a hollow ending in the suburbs. The ending reinforced the theme of loss, as per the tragic tone, but it challenged that of family. The idea that “family don’t end in blood” is pervasive and explicit, yet isn’t textually supported, as Sam and Dean’s most important relationships are almost always with each other and other biological family members. This is blatant in the finale, with Sam seemingly rejecting the family he’s built with other hunters and people in the community to embrace a nuclear family model based on biological ties. The theme of perseverance, to “always keep fighting” was textually explicit in the finale, yet was contradicted by by Dean’s death. Dean, a depressed and at times suicidal man accepting death easily is not a triumph of perseverance, it’s cowardice on the part of the writer’s. The theme of alienation is deeply contradicted by the finale! white picket fence and kids! blurrywife! You know what I’m talking about!

Anyway I hated the finale.

THANK YOU so much for the quiz, it’s super cool and the questions are really insightful :)

#spn #supernatural #spn ask game #i mean im probably (??????????) not adhd or autistic so if ur either of those things and disagree with me let me know i love talking about #that said both are popular fan interpretations and a lot of that comes from neurodivergent ppl #spn meta #sam winchester #dean winchester #this was so fun #using my brain for spn not law readings #suncaptor

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ganymedesclock · 4 years

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I kinda wanna hear your thoughts on NiGHTS, if you don't mind me asking. I just really like your speculation/headcanon posts!

I have great affection and great frustration for NiGHTS, honestly.

There’s a lot to love about the series. It’s got exquisite visuals and a really cool concept. While the gameplay isn’t completely my cup of tea, I think it’s a novel innovation. The designs of Nights and Reala, their bond and conflict, are really interesting and Wizeman’s a pretty impressive chunk of cosmic horror. I even feel like some of the dislike of Owl in JoD was unwarranted; yes, he was made the face of the slightly clumsy tutorial mechanism but it’s hard for me to not care a little that Nights, who is privately lonely in ways they seem disinclined to admit to anyone, clearly has some mutual fondness for this fussy bird dad.

But I definitely feel like the games have their problems- and I’ll focus here mostly on JoD because I feel like NiD itself was a pretty minimalist piece flying more on emotion than deep lore and it was successful in that regard.

I feel like JoD in particular struggled to decide if this was a story about Nights and Reala or a story about Will and Helen, and while they could’ve made room for both, it would’ve required more integration than they pulled off, and it ultimately weakens both narratives.

Nights never really meaningfully reaches a conclusion with Reala. They get angry enough to hurt him, feel bad about it, Reala goes on to take their new friends hostage, and Nights gets angry again and, seemingly, finishes Reala off, either personally, or indirectly because their attempt to kill Wizeman would affect Reala too. Even the nature of their sacrifice is hampered here because they don’t really sell us on what it is about Will and Helen that makes things so different. I take issue with the short-lived archie Nights’ comic’s invention about the “two perfect dreamers born once a century” but it at least explains all the hullabaloo about these specific people. I don’t mean that to be callous- but there has to be a reason Nights makes their stand here and now, even if it’s for internal reasons rather than Will and Helen, and we don’t get a sense of why that is.

Will and Helen themselves have the seeds of interesting or compelling problems, but they aren’t really brought home either. The conclusions they make don’t really feel of a piece with the nature of their issues. We don’t really find out what about Helen is ‘fragile’, and you have to read into things to see the contrast between Will’s lonely, ‘abandoned playground’-like second dream and the vibrant potential of his third dream, this fear that if you can’t grow up people will leave you behind in childhood.

JoD takes from its roots in NiD that it is good at evoking emotions. Many of the ‘major beat’ cutscenes land with really impressive intensity and evocative qualities! I can vividly call to mind Nights and Reala’s argument in Delight City or Reala circling Helen menacingly in Memory Forest.

But I feel like the devil’s in the details. Frustratingly often for me, these vibrant splashes of story were followed up by, like... hey kids, it’s time to chase Octopaw around in circles again! This is in-universe and out a completely pointless exercise! Let’s save some Nightopians from Wizeman, never once examining or explaining what Wizeman wants with them!

I try not to gripe too hard on Wizeman’s inscrutability because he as a character at least resonates with it- that he’s only a handful of ominous details in the dark actually kind of works for his character and the jawdropping beauty of the Unconscious Space and Will and Helen’s respective leaps of faith into the sea of darkness is contrasted by a profound sense of unease. Why is this space simultaneously so real and unreal? If Nights lands on a real-world building at the end of the game, sure, they’re alive, but is that a good thing, if they’re inextricably connected to Wizeman and Wizeman seems to be clawing at the veil between dream and waking?

Again, this is not a frustration of I hate these games. It’s a frustration of, I really love these games, but they feel like a vivid concept padded into existence with inconsistent flesh where the most interesting workings of both worlds- the real world emotional problems, and the dream world’s politics and potential fate under Wizeman’s onslaught- struggle because they’re ramming into each other at cross purposes rather than intertwining and facilitating/shoring each other up. There is some unbelievably premium good shit in NiD and JoD both but the experience of those glorious moments is undercut with the disappointment of going straight from that, to, octopaw. Nights do you wanna talk to Owl about how you unhealthily use harassing this octopus as a way to run away from serious emotional talks? No?

All of this has been a big reason why I’m looking forwards to Balan Wonderworld eagerly, because, Balan Wonderworld seems to be doing the spirit of what NiGHTS was as a series, and directly answering some of the problems of JOD. The human-side dynamics are spiced up with the chapters each having their own stars-of-the-day, and we’re digging into more raw emotional territory than stage fright or a nebulous insecurity growing up- just the three released so far are dealing with unexpected catastrophe bringing ruin to months of hard work, an accident leading to medical problems and a sense of betrayal, and the ‘pettiest’ problem, interpersonal rejection, is easily the most heartbreaking because it showcases how little self-confidence that afflicted person had.

Balan’s more mature position as a maestro and a hands-off sort of narrator figure while Leo and Emma take center stage means that I don’t mind as much when the kids get focus- in JoD, while Will and Helen were kids, Nights seemed like a teenager who was disconcertingly willing to throw themselves under the bus for friends they met yesterday and this wasn’t really framed as a bad thing. With Balan, I feel like even if Balan does at some point in the narrative sacrifice himself to advance Leo and Emma, it’d play to very different tropes- the removal of the magic feather or mentor, as a lesson you have to fly on your own.

(and, Balan is an integral part of the Wonderworld itself, and I have reason to suspect Lance would have a vested interest not fully ‘removing’ him even if they at some point separated him from Leo and Emma)

The kids themselves are also shored up in terms of intrigue. I’m really excited for square enix’s involvement, because they’ve produced a few stories that dig at emotions, and taking characters from the stock of, say, Neku and Shiki from World Ends With You, who Leo and Emma have passing resemblance to (a boy who lost a friend and became disillusioned and closed off, a girl who’s ebullient and sociable and more than a little insincere in it, hiding an insecure, lonely core) I think this is very promising.

That doesn’t mean I am abandoning all love for the NiGHTS series or that I think it’s garbage compared to Balan Wonderworld, especially since they have different themes and motifs and one isn’t even out yet, but I think that it’s interesting how, to my eye, the Wonderworld game seems like a sort of continuation or refinement upon JoD- that NiGHTS in some ways seems to be an inspiration bedrock for this new theater adventure.

Ultimately even if Balan Wonderworld is everything I hope for and more, there’s always going to be a place in my heart for NiGHTS, though. (I mean, hell, Nights themselves was an instrumental force in me figuring out my own relationship with gender.)

(and, once the game DOES come out, I feel like I’m certainly not the only one who’s gonna want to write crossover fic.)

TL;DR I love the nightmare jesters from the absolute bottom of my heart but I just wish we had a little more plot to squeeze loose.

#NiGHTS into dreams #Balan Wonderworld #readmore #Anonymous

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punkpoemprose · 4 years

Text

December 5th- Livestream

Universe: 2010′s AU Streamer! Anna AU Rating: Teen (maybe I’ll do a smutty followup at some point!) Length: 4368 Words

A/N: Sorry this is a little late. I didn’t have wifi for most of the day so I spent it doing other Christmas things instead of writing.

“So you’ve really never played a videogame before?” She asked, “Like you didn’t play Pokémon or Mario as a kid?”

She was sitting, cross-legged, atop one of the four washers in the apartment complex’s laundry room, snacking on Nacho Doritos and undoubtedly making a mess in a room meant for cleaning things. Across from her, pulling clothes from the drier was her neighbor Kristoff. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone except for maybe her sister, but she’d been intentionally doing her laundry on the same schedule he did his, He wasn’t usually the social sort from what Anna could tell, but she found him very attractive and relished the weekly opportunity to get to know him better. Also, secondarily, but no less importantly, it gave her the opportunity to stare at his very tones ass as he bent over to remove his clothes from the dryer. That he always wore basketball shorts on laundry day was proof enough to her that God was real and she or he wanted Anna to thrive. Or to be tested for her strength of will. Perhaps both.

“Not really,” he admitted with a shrug, “I grew up mostly playing hockey. One of the ice rinks used to have a pinball machine, and I played that, bit it probably doesn’t count.”

Anna snorted and set down the bag of chips, shaking her head and wiping her fingers on her sweatpants. He was a totally unique guy, vastly different than the “pretty boys” she normally took an interest in. Her attraction to him ever growing since the day he moved in. That day, when she’d first noticed him, she’d been given the great pleasure of watching him lift heavy boxes through her window, and then through her peephole after he’d climbed the stairs.

“Did it have a screen or a ball?” She asked, more as a joke than anything given that she knew the obvious answer.

“Touché,” he replied.

She took one last good look at his rear as he straightened up, appearing to be satisfied that all his clothes were out of the dryer and into his green laundry basket. The smell of his dryer sheets wafted over to her from the open dryer as he shifted out of the space and she decided that she needed to up her laundry scent game. It was unfair that someone was allowed to be as attractive as he was and to also smell like lavender and citrus and all the good things on the Earth.

She noticed, probably a bit creepily if she was being honest with herself, that he wore boxer briefs. And since she’d first noticed it weeks before the image of him wearing them and nothing else had haunted her late-night thoughts like a sexy specter. As a result, it had provided her of the most perfect mental picture of what he might look like in her apartment, in her bedroom, undressed and giving her the eye. She bit her lip trying to rid herself of the thought, lest he glance over at her and see her giving him bedroom eyes, or worse, drooling all over herself. He probably didn’t even realize that he was weapons grade sexy, because that made him even more attractive in her books.

“Sometimes I play solitaire on my computer if I’m waiting fi something to load,” he offered in his own defense.

He was turning towards her now, proving her concerns correct. He rested his basket against his hip as he leaned back on the now empty dryer. His sheepish smile and tone told Anna that he knew that the defense was not particularly convincing in anyway, but that he needed to at least try.

“That’s just sad,” she teased, shaking her head as if she truly were severely disappointed in him instead of just joking around.

“Well not everyone plays videogames for a living Anna.”

It wasn’t an attack really, but more of a statement. When she’d started talking to him the words may have had more sting, but now, knowing him and his gruff but kindly manner, she took it for the joke and defense of his lack of experience that he meant it to be. If he had a flaw it was that he was a bit of a grump. He’d never been mean though, and she was already watching him soften more and more by the day.

“Well not everyone is a chef either Kristoff,” she replied, “It takes all types to make the world go round.”

“I’m a baker,” he corrected.

He rolled his eyes at her when she shrugged and gave him her best “po-tay-to, po-tot-o” look. The look and sigh of exasperation that this rewarded her made her laugh. There was little better than the playful exchanges she could have from him in just looks, and it was one of the many reasons why she enjoyed being around him. They didn’t know each other very well yet, but she still felt like he got her somehow.

“And also, just so you know, you sound like my mother.”

“She’s a wise woman.”

She of course knew that he was a baker, but she hadn’t really realized that he’d rather be called a baker than a chef. Either way, she was still hoping that maybe someday he’d show up at her door with dinner, or a cake or something, just so she could invite him in.

“That she is.”

A silence fell between them as he folded his things and while Anna swapped her own clothes out of the washer and into the dryer. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but rather a companionable one. That was of course, until they both seemed to come to the realization simultaneously that one of them would be leaving sooner or later.

“You can change it by the way,” Anna offered.

“My mother being wise?”

She almost laughed. She hadn’t met his mother, but she doubted that with a son like him she had the power to change anything about her. If anything, she might ask her for some wisdom of her own.

“Oh gosh, no. All mothers, or at least all the ones I’ve met, have been wise. No, I meant the ‘never played a videogame’ thing.”

He shrugged at first, but then gave her a look betraying a greater level of interest. She wasn’t sure whether he was going to say yes or no, and there was a long pause as he thought about it.

It would be fun, she thought, to play with him. Maybe, if he’d let her, she’d stream it too. Videos of experienced players teaching others always had high entertainment and replay value. It would be good for her brand, but mostly she just wanted an excuse to invite him to her apartment. She’d been wanting for a while to see him somewhere other than in stairwells and the laundry room.

“What do you play?” He asked finally, seeking out more information.

She wasn’t sure he was quite ready for the long list of games she’d streamed before, let alone the even longer one of games she’d played just for fun. She decided it was best to give him the highlights of the CliffsNotes.

“I play a little bit of everything. I’m competitive in Overwatch and League of Legends, but I’m not really like… going to in person tournaments of anything. I just get invited to a few online cups here and there. Mostly I just play for my audience rather than thinking about joining a league or anything.”

He looked at her like she had three heads that each of them was speaking a different language. She’d gotten too deep too fast she supposed.

“I just mean that those ate the games I play against people seriously in. I play other games for fun and for people to watch how they’re played.”

He nodded, and while she could still see confusion in his eyes, he was making a solid effort to understand. She did notice that he was giving her a sort of amused smile, like he was enjoying the conversation despite not really knowing what it was she was talking about.

“Can you put that into different terms? I get that it’s competitive, but are you playing for money or points or?”

“Sometimes a cup will have a cash prize, but mostly I earn money from people watching my streams on Twitch and then the replays and the play throughs of games I post on YouTube.”

They’d talked before a bit about what they each did for a living. She’d been trying to figure out how to ask him what bakery he worked at so she could drop by sometime but hadn’t quite figured out how to be subtle about it yet. He knew that she was a streamer, and while it was a difficult career to try to explain to someone, he’d made the effort to understand as she offered him more and more details each time. He hadn’t asked for her username of anything, which was always equal parts disappointing and unsurprising. She didn’t really want him to watch her videos per say, but she also wanted to be able to imagine that he was tuned into her streams when she was doing them. She just wanted to be able to pretend for a little while that he was interested in her enough that he’d want to watch.

“Uh, I don’t know where this falls exactly, but my sister’s kids play Minecraft. Do you play it? They talk about it, but I don’t really know what it’s all about.”

“I could show you,” she replied, feeling a bit bold, “We don’t even have to stream it if you don’t want.”

He stopped to think again, and Anna was careful not to let her eyes wander too far down his body as she took the time to take in the muscle of his arms, the way his black t-shirt strained over the expanse of his chest. Whatever it took to be a baker, she decided, must be one hell of an upper body workout. His rear, she’d already decided, was surely hockey related. He’d never said so directly, but she was fairly sure he still played, and on occasion she’d see him carrying a large duffle up and down the stairs.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind. Could my niece and nephew watch?”

She grinned. It was a date.

They’d settled n the weekend, not too early, not too late. She’d insisted on calling his sister to let her know personally that the kids could watch them play from home. When her sister had called him to let him know about the call, she’d told him how nice Anna had been over the phone and how she’d even given her instructions on how to keep chat closed for the kids’ viewing so that if anyone typed something profane they wouldn’t have to see it. Generally, Anna set up the whole evening and his one and only job was “show up and have fun”.

He’d been a little uncomfortable with the idea even after agreeing to it. He didn’t really know how to act around her, let alone on camera. The fact of the matter was that he was an introvert and Anna was the opposite. She was warm and gregarious, and she was, at least to his yes, radiantly beautiful.

When she’d offered to teach him to play a game, to bring him into her world, into her home, he hadn’t been able to say no.

For months, since he moved in and they started sharing their laundry room conversations, he’d been trying to find a way to get to know her better. All he’d wanted was an excuse to take more time, because when he was with her, he felt happier than he could ever remember being with anyone other than his family or his friend Sven.

He was sure Sven would be tuning in to see whether he made an epic fool of himself. The whole viewing world, or at least all her viewers, would be watching him bumble about, but it was worth it because it would make Anna smile. And he supposed also that it was a plus that he’d be able to play a game with his niece and nephew the next time he saw them, but mostly it was for Anna.

He took a deep breath before knocking on the apartment door. He’d wanted to bring her flowers or something as a thank you for teaching him how to play, but Sven had put the kibosh on it when he’d brought it up, insisting that it would make it seem like a date and that he needed to “play it cool” until “the real date” that he was somehow sure there would be.

“One sec guys, I think that’s him!”

He heard the patting of bare feet moving quickly across the hardwood floor. When the door swung open with a creak, he was met with a grinning Anna and a warm rush of air into their always too cold hallway.

The breeze carried on it the smell from her apartment, which hit him more directly than the heat. It smelled like the holiday collection at bath and body works had an illicit affair with the food scented and musk Yankee candles producing a lovechild that reminded him of what the bakery might smell like if it was in the middle of a garden. It was all sugar and spice, chocolates and floral.

It was like her, and as he saw the bright décor evident even in her entryway, he couldn’t help but smile. It was no surprise that she’d want to be in a place as bright and fun as she was.

“Hey,” she said excitedly, reaching up to click something on the headset she wore, and then reached for his hand, “I’m so glad you could make it! Your niece and nephew are viewing with everyone else. They’re extremely excited for their Uncle Kris to learn a videogame.”

He felt her fingers card through his as she lead him through the door and into the apartment. She was talking and while he was trying to listen, he was distracted by the fact that somewhere in his head, something was screaming over the fact that she was holding his hand, and that he was in her apartment and that this was all happening.

“Okay?”

“Huh?”

She was looking at him and he forced himself to focus on that, the way she was giving him an understanding smile, preparing to repeat what she’d said while he was busy spacing out.

“We’re going to just do an hour unless you decide you want to go longer. We’re going to play on my PC instead of console today. There’s going to be another monitor next to you with my livechat running but you don’t have to interact with chat if you don’t want to. I’m going to just give you a spare headset for audio, okay?”

He wasn’t really sure that he was okay. He was feeling spaced out and wasn’t really sure whether or not he was going to regret this whole thing, but then she squeezed his hand gently and he decided that it was all alright.

“Yeah, thanks for doing this. I’ve been meaning to…” Spend time with you? Ask you out? Watch your streams like a creep because I want to pretend you’re talking to me?, “learn to play something, you know… for the kids. They’re going to think you’re the best after this.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand again, this time holding it tight for a little longer before letting it go entirely, like she didn’t really want to let go.

“I’m glad you’re letting me. I’m really glad you came tonight.”

He took a deep breath, trying not to read into it as she led him over to her streaming setup. There were two chairs set up in front of a webcam with a bunch of screens around them. The main screen had “Standby” written on it next to a cartoon of Anna wearing a headset and drinking a hot cup of tea. The little icon was kicking one foot back and forth under a cartoon version of her computer chair and the cup was billowing steam. It was cute to say the least, and she must have agreed because she walked over, got into her chair and “booped” the nose of the drawing before beckoning him to sit next to her.

“Ready to go?” she asked brightly, handing him a bright green headset that had been sitting next to the main computer’s mouse and keyboard.

He took it and put it on, deciding that this was, in fact, going to be alright after all.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She smiled and he felt her hand go to his again, giving it a squeeze where it rested on his lap before she pressed a button on his headset, then one on hers, and then clicked a few things with her mouse, bringing them on the stream, live, before an audience of a few hundred people.

***

“Hello and happy Saturday!” Anna announced warmly, trying to focus on working even though Kristoff was right there at her side, relaxed and smiling at her more than he was at the camera, “As you guys requested Kristoff, my neighbor is back for the fifth consecutive weekend to learn a new game.”

She tried not to roll her eyes when she noticed the amount of comments in chat that were, to say the least, thirsty. Anna had noticed that since having Kristoff on her stream for the first time, a fair amount of her female audience had been staying on stream for longer than they normally would. Normally she wouldn’t complain, but there was something about them thirsting over Kristoff that made her want to get her mod to kick them from chat.

It would be bad for business, but every time she saw Kristoff’s eyes wander over to chat and saw him flush from the attention, she wanted to take him into the other room and give him the proper attention he deserved. She’d gotten close to kissing him after the last stream he’d joined her for, and then again, the morning after when he’d brought her coffee and a beautifully glazed apple turnover from the bakery he owned just down the block.

She’d thought, weeks back when they’d done their first stream together, that she couldn’t possibly be more interested in him than she already was. But then he’d been funny and kind and an eager learner in her stream, and then she’d received thank you flowers days later, and he’d agreed, while they did their laundry to do another stream. And she’d fallen in love with him in just a few weeks, she’d fallen in love with the way he was thankful even when she was the one who needed to thank him. She’d fallen in love with the way he offered to come back again and again and again because it had been good for her work, and the way he’d invited her to see his bakery because it was only fair to share as much of himself with her as she had with him. She fell in love with the way he could be quiet, but that his gestures and facial expressions could speak volumes, and she fell in love a little more each day.

“Due to popular demand,” he said, taking a moment to look over at her for confirmation as he’d become more comfortable talking on stream, but preferred to address her more than he did the camera, “I’m going to be playing a dating sim.”

There was a subset of her viewers who, instead of thirsting after Kristoff, had been dead set on getting them together. There were also those who assumed that they were, in fact, together, but the viewers she was enjoying most were the ones who actively attempted to get them to talk about their “chemistry” and “tension” on stream. They were lead by a user named SvenjaminButton and Anna decided that if she and Kristoff ever did get together, she was going to track him down and buy him dinner, because he rallied the troops in a spectacular way, getting people to request more Kristoff on the stream and giving Anna the excuse to see him.

The dating sim had also been his idea.

She loaded it up and laughed at the bad graphics, it was one of those one dollar steam games that someone just threw together from preexisting code and some drawings. She wasn’t expecting much from it, but Kristoff was playing along like a champ, and she was looking forward to talking to him after the stream ended about how silly it was.

His skills with games were improving over time, and this point and click was surely not going to cause him any challenge, but still she appreciated that his initial response to the game launching was to move closer to her, putting her into his space should he need any assistance. She liked to think that maybe he just wanted to be in her space anyway.

“I hope you find true love,” she teased, the stream already going wild.

“I think I already have.”

***

Kristoff was still kicking himself for what he’d said at the start of Anna’s stream as they were logging off. He was pretty sure that she thought he was just playing up a joke when he’d said the bit about already having found true love, but truthfully he wasn’t, and he felt adrift. He’d fallen for her, and he’d fallen hard. She was just so fun to be around, and she instantly had changed his perspective on games from being a waste of time to being something actively enjoyable. Half the fun was, of course, just being with her.

“Thank you so much,” she said when the stream ended, leaning back in her chair and practically tipping her head onto his shoulder as she did so, “You’ve really been so wonderful with all of this. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for all the time you’ve been putting in.”

He smiled, happy that he’d been helpful to her, that she’d been happy to spend the time with him.

“You don’t have to thank me Anna. I’ve been enjoying myself. But… if I could maybe ask you something?”

This was the night. It had been Sven’s suggestion, and he still wasn’t sure of how he felt about it. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who made moves, but he’d never really had a cause to do so before. He could be bold in business, in work, in life, but in love? It was new for him.

“Of course Kristoff,” Anna replied, leaning her face towards his as she leaned back, bringing her face so close to his that all he would have to do was move a few inches to kiss her. That, he thought, was going to far, even if he desperately wanted to do so.

“Would you be interested in going out to dinner? Anytime you want, I know you’re busy, but I’d really like to take you out.”

She gave him a look of surprise and immediately he wondered if he’d just ruined everything.

He could feel the heat rising to his face, feeling like he’s just picked the wrong answer in the dating sim they’d been playing. He could practically see the little heartbreak icon popping up over her head, but then, he watched as she too flushed.

“Like… like on a date?”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to focus on something other than how close her lips were to his and how incredibly wrong this could all go in almost no time at all.

“Yes. Unless you’d prefer not, because I like being your friend and I don’t want to ruin that if you’re not interest…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, because Anna’s lips were on his and she was kissing him. Then as he leaned forward, he was kissing her and reaching out to bring her closer. He couldn’t catch his breath before she was climbing out of her chair and onto his, her thighs moving to the sides of his as she straddled him on the chair and kissed him until he was breathless.

His hands didn’t know where to go, but after a moment of them simply hovering, he let one wander along her sides, feeling her waist and her hip while the other brushed against her hair and rested against the back of her head.

She pressed herself into him and he held her close as they kissed harder and faster, lips becoming kiss swollen and wet as they explored together. He hadn’t ever really kissed anyone like he was kissing Anna, so he focused on the pleased sounds she made when he pulled her closer and kissed her harder.

“Can I take this as a yes?” he managed, when they broke for a moment to take a breath.

She was resting her head on his chest, her eyes, when they met his, were dark and pleased. She must have enjoyed the kiss as he had, and he was glad for it. What he’d started to say was true. He’d be happy to have her as a friend if that was all she wanted.

He felt like the luckiest man on earth that she’d wanted more.

“Tonight,” she said, “Take me for dinner tonight because I’ve been wanting this for months now. I don’t think I can wait.”

His heart raced as he thought about Anna, for months, wanting him as she did now.

“I don’t think I can either,” he admitted, letting his fingers card through her hair as he held her tight.

He didn’t know where he was going to take her yet, but he knew that wherever they went, the food would taste sweeter than it ever had before.

#kristannaadvent2020 #kristanna #frozen fanfiction #streamer! Anna #2010s AU #streamer AU

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cashtonwildflower · 4 years

Text

Pas de Trois: I

NOTE: Here is the first part to my Bi!Poly!Cashton Fic. This is an intro of sorts. The next part will be more eventful, and angsty. Maybe even some smut? Please let me know what you think!

She was agitated.

She imagined that once she got her Masters and her license in counseling, she would have her own place with maybe a roommate. No, she was 24 and after 6 years of schooling and freedom, she was back where it all started her childhood home with her slightly, well excessively overbearing parents. Every single time her phone made the tiniest sound her mom was asking who was texting her and if it was a boy or not.

She also imagined that at 24 she would have a somewhat stable relationship, not a bunch of random strangers on apps like Bumble and Hinge ghosting her (or vice versa) after the conversation had gone stale and no one cared enough to revive it. She just wanted someone consistent, and someone who actually cared for conversation and not just wanted her Snap to see private images she only shared out of sheer boredom, and admittedly filled the void she so longed to have filled.

But that is not exactly why she was agitated at this very moment in time. No, she was agitated because she had an extremely strenuous day at work. She loved her job, but listening to other people’s problems and trying to think of ways to solve them simultaneously was exhausting. All she wanted to do was go home, take off her pants that began to fill entirely too restricting on her thicker thighs, and take a nice warm bath. A glass of wine and some Leon Bridges in the background also sounded like a well-deserved plan to her.

But as always her plans didn’t always, well never seemed to totally work out in her favor. As soon as he crossed the threshold of her home, she was greeted by the sound of her mother’s laugh, which she knew to be fake because no one’s laugh was that shrill, and an unfamiliar man’s laugh. This laugh was deep, warm, and a hint of sultriness to it. It took her no less than 10 seconds to know that she loved the sound of this laugh.

Her thoughts were cut short when felt her dad place his arms around her shoulders and whisper, “Mom, is entertaining the new neighbors. They’re a newlywed couple from Australia.” Her dad said with an eye roll and a tilt of head towards the kitchen. She would be a liar if she said she didn’t feel a little deflated to know that the owner of one of the most beautiful laughs she has ever heard was married.

She felt a twinge of jealousy.

She Imagined the couple to be this perfect, fit, successful couple in their early 30’s. She imagined Mr. Beautiful Laugh to be tall, a little muscular, but also a little soft, with sunkissed Australian skin. She imagined the wife to be the exact opposite of her. Tall, blonde, tan, with a great sense of style, and a knack for making her husband laugh.

She shook her head quickly to dismiss those unwelcome and quite honestly, toxic thoughts out of her mind. Why was she so jealous of a woman she never met? All because of a laugh? Or because she wanted to make someone laugh. She wanted a relationship. She wanted a partner. She wanted someone to share her intellect, and random world views and thoughts with. Yes, that’s it!

Just as she was finishing her war with her mind she heard her mother’s voice call her name from the kitchen.

She took a deep breath, cleared her thoughts, and closed her eyes. As she walked into the kitchen she was extremely shocked to see two gorgeous men sitting in the barstools parked at the kitchen island.

As soon as her eyes land on them she feels ashamed for assuming that her new neighbors were a stereotypical, suburban straight couple. This is 2020 for fuck’s sake.

“Hello, lovely to meet you,” the longer, dark-haired man says extending his hand to offer a handshake.

She smiles and returns his friendly gesture. His large, masculine hand envelopes her small feminine one. “I’m Ashton and this is my husband Calum,” He nods his head to where Calum is standing.

She tears her eyes away from Ashton to glance at Calum. He has buzzed hair, but he is smiling warmly at her. He walks over and takes the hand that his husband just let go of and mutters a friendly greeting.

Despite the fact that their greeting felt like ages, it was barely 30 seconds, and her mother is already announcing that dinner is ready.

As they eat dinner she learns that they just moved to her hometown from Sydney. They have been married for about a year before Ashton got his job at one of the local universities as a Chair of the Photography department. She discovered that Ashton and Calum met in college when they were both 18, but didn’t start dating until they were 21. Then 9 years later they got married and moved across the globe to continue their journey together.

As they are talking, she can’t help but analyze them. Individually and as a couple. She can tell that they love one another, but she also senses that there is some tension. The way Calum sort of shrugs off Ashton’s subtle embraces. The way that Ashton stares her down every time Calum is speaking to her. She also noticed how they both would roll their eyes when the other would crack a joke.

She picks up on them quickly. Reading people as well as she does is good, hell even great when it’s in a professional setting, but detrimental when it’s in her new neighbors that she just met.

Ashton and Calum stay until the third bottle of wine are finished and both of her parents retired for the evening. She did find it strange that they stayed to drink on the patio with her, when the host of the evening, her mother decided to call it a night. But she wasn’t complaining. She liked them. She was comfortable with them.

Maybe it was the wine, or that they seemed pretty genuine but she thought it pretty laughable that the therapist was becoming the patient as she vented about her life and lack of romance to two men she just met 4 hours ago.

“It’s just, my best friend is having a baby, and I can’t even remember the last time I was fucked good enough to actually cum.” The words were already out of her mouth when she realized what she had said.

Her mouth was always faster than her brain when she was tipsy, but this was the worst. Right before she was about to apologize, Ashton must’ve known what was going to come out of her mouth when he assured her everything was okay, and then he and his husband both laughed and thought it was pretty funny. Calum also noted how liked her honesty.

The three continued to chat when Calum asked her about her job. This question then turned into both, Ashton and Calum quizzing her on what she liked and disliked about counseling, what her thesis was, did she prefer treating adults, adolescents or children. Then Calum asked her if she ever treated couples.

It took her a little off guard, but she played it cool and answered yes.

Then Ashton asked the next question. A question that stunned both her and Calum:

“Would you ever consider counseling Calum and me?”

#5sos #5sos smut #5sos writing #5sos one shot #5sos preferences #calum hood smut #calum hood one shot #calum hood wrting #cashton #cashton smut #cashton one shot #ashton irwin #ashton fic #ashton irwin smut #ashton iriwn one shot #poly!sos

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classpect-crew · 4 years

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Class and Purpose

I’ve heard a lot of people theorize about the purpose of each Class in any particular session. As you can probably imagine, I have a few thoughts about that. Let’s get into it, shall we? (Edit: this took me nearly two hours to write. It’s almost 7am. I need to sleep.)

First, we ought to start with the Witch and Heir. Now, all the Witches we’ve seen in canon seem to have a very similar beginning. They start off fairly passive (lowercase “p” this time) and have quite a lengthy maturation arc, not unlike Pages. However, once they hit a certain breaking point when they come into their powers, there’s a sort of “oh, shit” moment when everyone else is forced to reckon with one of their most unassuming players swiftly transforming into a powerhouse. With this much power at their disposal in such a short period of time, you may be wondering what they’re going to do with it. Well, historically speaking, they’re going to massively fuck things up for the session, whether intentionally or not. If the game determines that a brick shithouse of a player is required for some ultimate endgame, that means things are going to go very, very wrong. Ironically, the Witch may very well be the one to save the team from total catastrophe. It will usually work out in the end. Usually.

Now, the Heir is a bit of a different story. As one whose Aspect coddles and protects them in desperate times, the Heir is destined to become their Aspect in one way or another, for better or worse. After all, when a sullen, hungry Aspect like Void was influencing Equius, he ended up vanishing into irrelevance. Even his blood was used to obscure information in Rose’s tome. A similar fate befell Mituna, and he became the embodiment of sacrifice—of Doom. Heirs are doorways for their Aspects to affect the universe. They are the closest any living being can get to a distilled, pure form of an Aspect. If your session has an Heir, pay very close attention to the implications of their Aspect, because this will almost always determine how they’ll be used most effectively. An Heir of Blood, for example, is going to be your hard-working people-person, and you’ll want them in the center of your team, keeping everyone grounded and focused on the task at hand. Take heed: the appearance of an Heir is a sign that one Aspect in particular is going to have a strong influence on the session.

Next, we’ll discuss the Mage and Seer. A Mage’s role in a session is to unravel the mysteries of their Aspect, which means they’ll take on an advisory role. Their appearance marks a significant need for in-depth understanding of some kind. Every session has its riddles and puzzles, but those which possess a Mage need the mind of a scientist in order to parse out the most convoluted secrets. Perhaps the session is filled with difficult or confusing Aspect-related mysteries that must be taken apart and examined for an endgame victory to be possible. Unfortunately, we just don’t know enough about Mages in canon to speculate a whole lot more about what their presence in a session might mean.

The Seer has a similar purpose as the Heir, though to a lesser extent. While the Heir embodies their Aspect, a Seer is guided by theirs in subtle ways. The appearance of a Seer as an adviser ensures that the ultimate path to success will be either helped or hindered by their Aspect, and it’s up to them to figure out the extent and purpose of their Aspect’s sway in their session. This Passive Class tends to be assigned to otherwise active players who wish to exert their will over the universe, but must learn to step back and take on the role of a guide. Many will balk at this, but most will eventually realize that their true strength comes from trusting others to take their advice and push the team forward.

Now, onto the Maid and Sylph. The Maid, as I’ve discussed previously, begins their journey at the mercy of their Aspect’s most negative qualities. As you can imagine, a Maid’s purpose is to gain control of their Aspect in a way that allows them to “tidy it up” and maintain its integrity. The appearance of a Maid in a session almost guarantees that their Aspect is going to be fraying and torn, in need of their mending expertise. You can certainly expect a lot of difficulties to arise in the realm of their Aspect at the beginning, since they’ll lack the ability to smooth out those bumps for quite some time. Once the Maid realizes their potential, however, stand back and allow them to do their work. Chances are, they know what needs to be done to succeed, and you don’t want to stand in the way of a Maid and a stitch to be fixed.

Ah, the Sylph. As one myself, it’s fairly easy to imagine what my purpose in a session would be. Similar to the Maid, a Sylph’s job is one of restoration and healing, though they tend to start out with much more confidence toward their Aspect than the Maid. The presence of a Sylph in a session is a handy sign that their Aspect is likely going to be lost or broken at any given point, and therefore in need of restoration. This could be metaphorical, or quite literal, depending on the situation. As a Sylph of Time myself, it’s easy to imagine bringing back an amnesiac’s memories by “restoring” the time they lost, or healing a wound by speeding up time around it. Beware, however, as a Sylph’s energy isn’t limitless, and even the most dedicated healers need time to recuperate, or else they risk overexerting themselves and burning out. (Trust me, “Sylph Burnout” is a very real thing.)

Well, the first half is over, so now it’s time to talk about the Prince and Bard. As destroyer Classes, one might wonder what these might mean for their Aspects. That’s quite simple: both indicate an overabundance of their Aspect that must be pruned away. The Prince, in particular, is infamous for destroying their Aspect within themselves before turning their crusade outward. Too much of one Aspect upsets the balance, after all, so it must be purged to allow its opposite to rush in to fill that gap. If your session has a Prince, buckle up tight, because any semblance of their Aspect that exists is going to be an irresistible target for their princely purge. Although this is probably a good thing overall for the session, it’s going to be rather painful at the onset. Princes may “get the tumors out,” so to speak, but they’re likely to leave the patient bleeding on the operating table afterwards.

Having a Bard in your party is a little bit like inviting a chimpanzee to a D&D session: it’s exciting and unpredictable at first, but after a while, shit really starts to hit the fan and you’re left wondering “who invited this guy in the first place?” Truthfully, though, the Bard can be both a game-changing player and the one who dooms the entire session. In rare cases, they’re both simultaneously. Their Passive nature makes it difficult to predict what they’ll do next, since they act based on the whims of both their Aspect and its opposite, but it’s fairly certain your session will be rife with discord and conflict, due in part to the Bard. It’s sort of the universe’s way of throwing a curveball in the form of a player to challenge the team even further. A Bard is both a buff and a nerf to your team. Use them wisely, and never, ever turn your back on the Bard.

Well, well, it’s about time we talked about the Knight and Page. A Knight’s appearance has a very obvious consequence: whatever their Aspect is, that’s what your session will be lacking. Dave’s session was very, very short on time, Karkat’s had virtually no natural cohesion, and Latula’s was filled with big personalities with no regard for the consequences of their actions. This is because the Knight’s job is to use whatever they can get of their Aspect and exploit the hell out of it. Give them an inch, and they’ll turn it into a mile without breaking a sweat. This is especially handy when there’s precious little of their Aspect to go around.

Now, having a Page in your session may sound like a recipe for dead weight, but that would be an incredibly unfair assumption. Rather, a Page has access to a great deal of exploitative power as they reach the climax of their development. The presence of a Page is a very good sign indeed, as long as the team is willing to put up with their very slow and steep maturation arc. Their Aspect is one that will be opened up to be used by their teammates in game-breaking ways, provided they’re patient and encouraging toward the Page. Good things come to those who wait, and wasting the potential of a fully realized Page is not a mistake you want to make.

Last but certainly not least, we have the Thief and Rogue. Thieves get a bit of a bad rap in canon, but it’s safe to say that the Thief will become a powerful player in any given session. Their appearance signifies great conflict and strife, which they’ll almost certainly cause in the first place. Thieves begin much like Pages in the sense that they lack their Aspect and seek to obtain it. For the Thief, this Aspect-shaped hole is too much to bear, and their schemes to take it at any cost will likely be the source of the session’s woe. This isn’t necessarily all bad, however, as knowing your Thief well enough can help you predict the nature of this unavoidable conflict, allowing you to prepare well in advance. Remember, the Thief can make an incredible ally, but their interests won’t always fully align with those of the party.

Finally, we have the Rogue. Ultimately, the Rogue is in charge of balancing their Aspect by redistributing it from areas of abundance to those of scarcity. Too much of one Aspect upsets the universal balance, and as we’ve covered previously, there are quite a few Classes whose purpose involves tipping the scales back where they’re supposed to be. The Rogue is the most intricately tied to this delicate dance between their Aspect and its opposite, since the presence of one necessarily negates the other. Their job is to facilitate this natural order, ensuring that their Aspect doesn’t become too concentrated in one form or another, ultimately supporting a natural sense of order over chaos.

If you’ve read all the way to the end, congratulations! You’ve officially read through nearly two hours of my creative process. I’m actually really impressed.

#classpect #classpect analysis #homestuck #quick reference #witch #heir #mage #seer #maid #sylph #prince #bard #knight #page #thief #rogue #i guess i'll tag them all tbh!#wow i'm.....exhausted.

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autoplaysdigimon · 4 years

Text

Top Five Villains

HERE WE GO, THE FUN LIST.

#5 Gatomon

Controversial, maybe, to have her be on the Villains list as well, but she was a villainous character for a while.

I’m a real sucker for a good redemption storyline; failing that, at least a turncoat character. While Gatomon didn’t really commit any real atrocities onscreen to atone for later in the story, she still proved a fun villain while she was one. She was no nonsense, efficient, knew exactly what she was doing... if she’d stayed on Myotismon’s side, she could have been a real force to be reckoned with. One of the things that I’d have really liked to have seen explored more in this series was Gatomon’s time with Myotismon, and how much she’s changed since then.

Plus there’s something so weirdly entertaining about a group of creepy, ominous, obviously evil monsters and then a small white kitty cat who’s just as dangerous as them.

#4 Myotismon

This guy.

When this guy came onto the scene, the entire show changed. Devimon’s arc was fun, if a little generic; Etemon’s was very similar with a different villain, and then Demidevimon’s arc came along and we got a fun, goofy villain who can’t Evil properly. Even so, we knew he was following orders from a higher power, and Myotismon’s eventual appearance changed the dynamic from “Team Rocket Fools Children Repeatedly” to “oh shit an actual vampire is going to kill us”. And then the whole Eighth Digidestined thing happened... Plus, that #aesthetic, amirite?

To tie into Gatomon’s thing up there, the Eighth Digidestined arc was one of the best of the season, if not the best. Taking the fight to the Real World made it more, well, real. It was fun as hell watching the parents interact with the Digimon, both good and bad, and finding out exactly what the kids had been up to lately. The kids watching their families getting dragged into the fight was TOP. NOTCH. Plus Myotismon actually knew what he was doing as a villain so.

He knew to go after the one kid without protection. He knew how to cut everything off effectively. He did take a shot at some of the kids when they were on their own, instead of thinking only of killing Kari. Death didn’t stop him the first time. Even when he pulled the classic villain “You Have Outlived Your Use” thing and killed his own minions, it was on Digimon who had already turned against him, like Wizardmon, Pumpkinmon, Gotsumon and (arguably) Darktyrannomon.

(No, wait, they’re still alive because he sent them to his Dungeon, isn’t that RIGHT DUB TEAM.)

(Even though pieces of them were left behind and dissolved on their own.)

(No, I’m still not over that.)

#3 Ogremon

Another redeemed villain! I just like them, okay

Maybe it’s just me, but just the act of Ogremon turning good at the end made me like him. He was a little bit generic in the Devimon arc, though at least he had the feud with Leomon to make him interesting. (Any logical reason to that, by the way? Was it just that we had these two Digimon who could fill in the character roles we’d set out for them? Nothing mythological about lions and ogres hating each other or anything? No? Okay then.)

All Ogremon really did in that first arc was serve as the henchman. He made some... interesting choices, and then he was absorbed into Devimon for power. And then he came out of the back of Devimon’s knee. Sure. When Devimon was defeated, he ran screaming off into the distance, shaking his fist and yelling “NEXT TIME, GADGET. NEXT TIIIIME.” The very act of bringing him back when he wasn’t employed by the Big Bad of the moment made him an interesting character, who had to atone for what he did. I’m a sucker for redemption, like I said, and the best part of it is watching them go soft.

Plus, how great is it to have multiple conflicting alliances within a group? When Leomon returned, even though Ogremon was firmly on the Digidestined side now, he had absolutely no problems with trying to immediately murder Leomon. There’s nothing wrong with that, right? They’re rivals, it’s just natural! He’s also kind of a shithead in general, even still.

Also, Ogremon is incredibly hard to draw. I’d just like to bring that up.

Okay, next!

#2 Etemon

HE’S A MONKEY WHO TALKS LIKE ELVIS, NEXT QUESTION.

But for real, Etemon is such a fucking great villain. Great character all around, I’d love a version where he was an ally or something, but how else would we get the trademark Elvis-laugh-turns-into-villainous-laugh thing that Etemon has going?! Come on, that’s great.

Devimon’s villainous style was one of corruption; he wasn’t all that powerful on his own, but by using the Black Gears he could build his own damn forces and control small areas. He only managed to control a handful of Digimon in the end. He was also taken out by a single Digimon in a single one-on-one, though you could argue that the others had weakened him by that point, they hadn’t really.

Etemon’s style was drastically different - he was far more comical, but far more dangerous. His introduction scene involved him panicking over the Digidestined already being in the area. He sang a lot, he cracked jokes, he threw childish tantrums, and again, he was a monkey who sounded like Elvis. There is nothing not awesome about this guy. And yes, he was deadlier - his main attack can undo Digivolutions and leave the Digimon vulnerable as hell. He ended up taking a couple of episodes to take out, only losing because another villain tried to sabotage him in the end.

And coming back partway through the Dark Masters arc as Metaletemon?! FUCK YEAH. Every pun he made, I laughed at and I don’t apologise for that. Even starting a series-wide tradition, he was stylish until the end.

Also he called Ikkakumon a goat that one time.

#1 Demidevimon

T H E B A S T A R D O R B

Nobody is surprised that he’s my #1, right? It was a close call between him and Etemon, but ultimately I just like Demidevimon’s arc more. We have Devimon and Etemon, as I discussed above. After that wave of villains who are dangerous because they’re powerful, we have one who is dangerous because he’s just a little bastard.

Demidevimon wasn’t strong. Most villains had their huge beatdown happen in the form of a Digimon Digivolving to Champion, Ultimate or Mega for the first time, Demidevimon had his when Patamon reached Rookie level again. In his debut episode. He was never a threat physically once the kids realised that he was not to be trusted. His arc came right after two arcs of the kids being stranded in this strange world together, only briefly separated - and then everyone was torn apart, and he could manipulate them individually.

I’ve argued in the past that Demidevimon was a more effective manipulator than even Puppetmon, one of the Dark Masters, and I stand by it. Puppetmon managed to physically manipulate them with the dolls, sure, and he had Cherrymon convince Matt to attack Tai. But, uh, he didn’t exactly have to twist his arm very hard to get that to happen, and that was Cherrymon’s doing anyway. Plus you could argue that physically manipulating someone isn’t much of a social power as it is more a matter of strength. (also Puppetmon is more of a “play with them like toys” type, but still, being a literal puppetmaster, you’d think that manipulation was more of his domain than a BAT.) Demidevimon, however, managed to:

convince TK that Matt didn’t want him as a brother anymore and to ditch Tokomon

nearly have TK, Tai and Agumon eat poisonous mind-wiping mushrooms

convince Digitamamon to keep Joe and Matt in the restaurant, simultaneously threatening Joe to help keep Matt there and sabotaged them constantly to manipulate them all further

trick Izzy and Tentomon into Vademon’s trap

tell the Gekomon and Otamamon about Mimi’s singing voice, somehow knowing that they’d end up hindering her progress somehow(???)

And, even after knowing that he’s an evil manipulating Digimon, he managed to convince Sora that she’d never manage to activate her crest, causing her to believe it in a self-fulfilling prophecy, even as she worked to sabotage his efforts otherwise.

I mean, apart from all that, I just like Demidevimon as a Digimon. He’s a tiny flying motherfucker and that’s great! He had some of my favourite lines, even his death was kind of tragically funny, and I have a clear bias when it comes to his voice acting, because I just like Derek Stephen Prince. He does it well! I don’t know how Demidevimon closes his eyes like that, though, those appear to be his pupils closing. I don’t even know.

Really, I just find great nostalgia in comical villains. They were all the rage back in the day, especially in children’s media. They’re still around sometimes - Doctor Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb, the Rubies from Steven Universe, the Ice King from Adventure Time, even Team Rocket from Pokemon are thriving still. Good, menacing villains are great and all, but where’s the fun?

Honourable Mentions

Scorpiomon, who probably benefited the most from the dub’s style - his constant cried of “hey, stop it, come baaaack” while chasing Joe and Mimi are more remnicient of a kid trying to get his toy back from the bully who just took it away from him than someone trying to murder children, and that’s just fucking hilarious.

Mimi, when she was briefly an antagonist in that one episode. Just as I really like Heel-Face turns, I really like Face-Heel turns, even temporarily, and even as petty as this whole thing was. It was the perfect trap for her, who just craved the comfort of home, and who could be easily confinced to go for more. And it was the perfect trap because she was the jailor and the jailed at the same time, trapped as long as her own selfishness would allow. It was one of my favourite episodes.

Datamon, who had his own agenda and didn’t care that he was stepping on Etemon’s toes to get what he wanted. Just like Leomon and Ogremon had conflicting alliances on the protagonist’s side, Datamon and Etemon were opposing forces on the antagonist’s side, and multiple villains fighting each other are always fun to see.

Actually, Etemon later fought Puppetmon as Metaletemon, didn’t he? Wow, dude just doesn’t get along with other villains.

Gizamon. Give them more lines, you cowards.

The Dark Masters, as a whole. Just as Myotismon changed the entire tone of the show, these guys took the entire first half of the show and murdered every safe thing about it. They immediately started playing with the Digidestined, fully intending to off them all right then and there as a team. They were competent, for the most part - only failing when they were forced to split up, and their dirty tricks could be dismantled one by one. I’ve never seen a more co-operative group of antagonists, who never tried to dethrone each other and take everything for themselves.

And okay, sure, Kokatorimon. Purely for this.

Dishonourable Mention

Apocalymon.

Look, dude, I’m sorry, you’re cool and everything, but where the fuck did you come from? We killed Piedmon, it’s over, no, wait, here’s one last guy, no wait he’s dead, nevermind. What?

The fact that Apocalymon didn’t get any fanfare before being dropped on the Digidestined without warning made him seem like an afterthought, like the writers forgot their own endgame until they got there. Even if there had been a mention of the effect that caused his existence before he showed up - a “hey, did you know that not every Digimon survives Digivolution? Their data just gets deleted or something,” really would have helped, but even then.

Apocalymon’s existence in the show really highlights how disjointed the series as a whole is - Devimon has no relation to Etemon, who has no relation to Myotismon, who has no relation to the Dark Masters, who have no relation to Apocalymon. The kids face a constant load of “okay, so we beat this guy and we can go home, right? ...no, maybe this guy??” where every new villain is dropped on the like a hot potato, making their first appearance in less time after their existence is revealed in less time than it takes to heat up said hot potato. Myotismon is the only one who gets any decent buildup before his first appearance before the children, and he’s often said to be the best villain of the show, so see how that works?

Digimon Adventure is the story of a bunch of kids who were brought to the Digital World to take care of one guy, and hey, while you’re here, we’ve also got some sort of demon on this island causing trouble, and there’s this monkey threatening us, and also a vampire, and then these four have joined together... It was a fun adventure, and I love that it could be part of my childhood and my life, but wow it really needed a more cohesive throughline for the story.

I hate to leave this post on a negative note, because it was full of mostly nice things, so here’s another picture of the bastard orb.

Hahahaha, oh you silly little man.

#digimon #digimon anime #digimon adventure #auto plays digimon #auto watches digimon adventure #character analysis

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years

Note

what about your favourite cherik fics of all time? (:

Dear anon, I am so sorry for the delay. I’ve been meaning to put this list for about a week now, but I feel as if I’m missing some fics. Most of these are fandom favourites and might not come as any surprise, but these are my all time favourite fics that I’ve probably read more than once and more than twice. I tried to keep a wide variety of fics, including both one-shots and multi-chapters as well as different genres. I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I do.

Earnestly-endlessly’s Favourite Cherik Fics

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Anarchy in the U.K. – Yahtzee

Summary: “Good God, Erik thought. The Prince of Wales is gay.”

Charles lives in the unceasing glare of the public spotlight, yet keeps his sexual orientation a closely held secret, afraid he could lose his throne and force his deeply troubled younger sister into a role that would crush her. Erik, journalist and world traveler, has been a loner most of his life; he has little patience for closet cases. But a chance meeting in Kenya brings these two opposites together and sets in motion a love affair that will challenge the British monarchy – and their most deeply held beliefs about who they are, and who they should be.

Continuing Education – aesc and spicedpiano

Summary: To his students, Erik Lehnsherr is despotic and terrifying. To his department head, he’s the brilliant young researcher who abandoned his prestigious job overnight, moving across the country to join MIT’s faculty. But to Charles Xavier, he is a contradiction. As Erik and Charles settle into their new roles as colleagues, their professional rivalry starts to spill over into the personal.

The Sonnet Series – afrocurl, nekosmuse

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It’s really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It’s also too bad Erik doesn’t seem to know how to use Google.

Bifurcation – spicedpiano

Summary: Bifurcation - (n.) the splitting of a main body into two parts.

In medicine, a single mistake can mean the difference between life and death.

For cardiothoracic surgeon Charles Xavier, a fatal error leaves him standing at a crossroads … and at the mercy of the man he has not faced since their relationship fell apart thirteen months ago.

Dr. Erik Lehnsherr has a fearsome reputation. Due to his incisive autopsy reports, he has gotten more surgeons fired in two years than any other pathologist has managed over an entire career. But when an old enemy returns to Erik’s life, he must find a way to temper his pride – or lose the man he loves, all over again.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibrisuchan)

Summary: In which mpreg!Charles Bakes All The Things, overprotective!Erik calls his small round tea-drinking husband “Vati’s little teapot”, Tony Stark/Bad Ideas is Stark Industries’ most profitable OTP, and Alex and Steve are somehow along for the ride. And the cookies.

For the Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem – the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

Rumor Mill – Ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends. So it’s obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he’s bringing his husband. There’s rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik’s husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren’t expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik’s arm. What they certainly weren’t expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Into Your Tar, Honey – tomato_greens

Summary: Really, Alex doesn’t know why he’s in the damn class. (Or, the one in which Charles teaches an online Introduction to Biology course, and Alex reads more than he expected to.)

If You Like The Book, You’ll Hate the Movie – paperclipbitch

Summary: Modern-Day High School AU. It’s not until Hank realises half the class are glancing towards the back of the classroom with something like nerves and something like schadenfreude that he finds out Alex Summers is back.

The boy with the heart on his sleeve – euphorbic

Summary: Charles loses a high-stakes bet to Raven and is required to get a tattoo. However, when he makes a disparaging remark about the art form, Raven’s acerbic mentor, Erik, steps in.

Or, the one where Erik and Raven are tattoo artists.

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Written for the following prompt: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it’s before he ever met Charles - in fact, it’s before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn’t go wrong)?

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn’t know exactly what to expect from it, but when he’s contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Food, Family, and Friends with Benefits – endingthemes

Summary: “Everyone,” Edie says, voice bursting with pride. “Erik’s here, and he’s brought his friend.” She takes Charles’ arm and pulls him forward, presenting him like a shiny object. “This is Charles.”

Charles manages a weak wave and an even weaker, “Hello.”

(In which Charles gets dragged along to his fuck buddy’s parent’s house to celebrate a Jewish holiday, and things get weird.)

In Plain Sight – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: A story where Charles and Erik have basically been together from the first time they met. The whole fate, wow we found each other thing. Now I would like the others not to know and try to bring the two 'oblivious' guys together. They of course enjoy this quite a lot

Limited Release – rageprufrock

Summary: When Alex Summers broke out of supermax to rescue his stupid kid brother, he had no idea it was going to be so fucking complicated.

Daycare Verse – brilligspoons, pocky_slash

Summary: A modern AU in which Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend.

Marrying a Mob – Ook

Summary: Charles is a teacher at a very exclusive school. When armed men burst in on the trail of two children, of course he stands up to them and gets hurt. The children are Erik Lehnsherr's children (of course); a "prominent businessman" or, less politely, "mobster". Erik is grateful to Charles for saving his children's lives at the cost of his kneecap. So very grateful.Naturally he tries to reward Charles for his actions. Equally naturally, Charles will be having none of that.Azazel finds the whole thing unspeakably hilarious. Naturally.

Chessmen (XMFC/Inception fusion AU) – kaydeefalls

Boden’s Mate: “Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it,” Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They’re assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik’s desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them – and then there’s the shade that haunts his dreams…

Queen’s Gambit: “My name is Nick Fury,” he tells Raven. “And I’m here to talk to you about Cain Marko.”

XMFC/Inception fusion, sequel to Boden’s Mate. Raven’s running her own extractions these days, but the job S.H.I.E.L.D.’s dumped in her lap is a real shitshow. Two marks, two simultaneous dreams, eleven dreamers, and a hell of a lot of baggage. Time to call in a few favors – and did she mention the job involves inception?

Tabula Rasa – kaydeefalls

Summary: Five ways Erik might have first met Charles.

Humane Society – smilebackwards

Summary: Once Erik finally allows himself to decide that Charles is pretty much the best thing since sliced bread, he spends the next week being incredibly bitter that he’s Charles’ cat and not his boyfriend.

Idiot Control Now – cygnaut

Summary: Hank screws something up in the lab and everyone’s powers increase tenfold. Not knowing how to control them like this, they all try to cope and not kill each other by mistake while Hank tries to find a way to reverse the effects. Charles has a particularly hard time of it.

White Nights – spicedpiano, tahariel

Summary: Duke Erik Lehnsherr of Ironhold needs an omega to carry on his line, and Earl Charles Xavier of Westchester needs an alpha to give him the political leverage he needs in order to make his sister Queen. An arranged marriage brings them together, but Erik’s lust for war and Charles’ hidden agenda threaten to tear them apart. In the frozen Northlands of Ironhold life is hard and cold, and both Charles and Erik must give up their pretense and see each other as they really are: perfect for each other, if only they’ll acknowledge it.

Nation Building and other Diplomatic Negotiations – Pookaseraph

Summary: With the recent passage of a submissive registration law in the United Kingdom, there are now only two industrialized nation with a relatively stable government to have neither a mutant nor a submissive registration law. Erik Lehnsherr, the newly minted King of Genosha, and his Prime Minister Emma Frost intend to take advantage of this turn of events to bring the Xavier Institute to the island nation of Genosha. They both know bringing Charles Xavier, the noted activist of mutant and submissive rights, to the island will necessarily politicize the man, and create all manner of complications. With a constitution not yet finalized and external threats to Genoshan security all around them, Erik, Emma, and Charles will fight for what they believe in to shape Genosha into what it should be.

A Genosha AU with moderate D/s elements.

Politico – cygnaut

Summary: Modern Genosha Politics AU. In which Erik is l'enfant terrible of the mutant National Assembly, and his staff just wants to get him laid.

The Courtship – dvs

Summary: A story about a courtship that began five hundred years ago.

This Family comes with Batteries – Fishwrites, lynneh

Summary: A orphaned Charles Xavier goes to live with his Godfather: Tony Stark. This story is a tale of what would have happened to the events of MCU, if Tony was raising a six year old telepath in Stark Tower. There is also the matter of Charles’ robot AI manny/bodyguard/tutor/only-friend, David.

Space Oddity – MonstrousRegiment, Pangea

Space Jam: Prince Charles Xavier is Deputy Commander of the TEF Heartsteel and the newest mission they’ve been assigned starts out less than desirable and quickly goes downhill from there. It’s alright, though, he’ll cope.

It doesn’t help, though, that he’s in unrequited love with his best friend and Commander of the Heartsteel, War-Prince Erik Lehnsherr.

Jupiter Jazz: Prince Charles Xavier is still Deputy Commander of the TEF Heartsteel and life has been great ever since he and his best friend and Commander of the Heartsteel, War-Prince Erik Lehnsherr, finally got all of their feelings out on the table. Better than great, really.

It doesn’t help, though, that the Nyrulians are a bit sore over him blowing up their ship, and a war is brewing. And because Charles has that kind of luck, they’re in the middle of it.

I have loved the stars too fondly: Erik and Charles, directly after the events of Jupiter Jazz.Nothing will ever be the same.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: Intergalactic Federation pilot Lieutenant Charles Xavier is assigned last-minute to a high profile mission: transporting over two thousand prison inmates from an old and overfilled prison complex to a newer, higher-capacity prison stronghold located on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Just as he’s settling down for a long and uneventful ride, things take a turn for the worse after the inmates riot and stage a hostile takeover of the ship, leaving Charles to find himself at the complete mercy of cold-blooded killers and facing the chilling prospect that he might not ever make it back home alive.

Tough little baby telepath – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that.

An absence which could not be more there – aesc

Summary: He prepared to shift another half-step over to the Current Events section (which would, of course, enrage him) when the teaser positioned by the model’s left elbow caught his eye: DATING WHILE TELEPATHIC: WHY I DON’T DO IT.

Backseat ‘verse´ – tahariel

Summary: “Charles has a very sweet nature,” Raven is saying, her hand falling to the back of his head and stroking his hair very gently, carelessly affectionate. “He doesn’t need someone to force him down, he’s very happy to go there himself. If Erik is the sort to need a fight, then there’s no way I could let him have my brother.”

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik’s visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Made To Be Broken – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles makes a New Year’s Resolution: “No more straight men,” Charles repeated as he began scrolling through the apartment directory for Emma’s name. “No more futility. No more pointless hoping and heartbreak. In 2013, I never want to hear the words ‘exception,’ ‘experimenting’ or ‘phase.’ If, God forbid, I hear ‘bicurious’ even once, I may take a hostage.” Then he goes into the party, and Erik is there.

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him. For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

The Trouble With Telepaths – endingthemes

Summary: “Are you shy about me meeting your family?” Erik asks with a huge smile. “Are you kidding me?”“It’s not funny,” Charles says, his hands firmly planted on his hips, and it’s honestly hilarious so Erik laughs right in his face.(Or a Star Trek AU in which Captain Erik Lehnsherr pays a visit to First Officer Charles Xavier's home planet and encounters a few surprises.)

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

The Mutant Games – TurtleTotem

Summary: "You'll be fine, darling," Charles murmured, half-asleep, into golden hair as Raven crawled sniffling into his bed. "Your name's only in there once, Raven. They're not going to pick you." (Hunger Games AU)

City by the sea – Black_Betty

Summary: It never bothered Charles that he essentially belonged to someone else from birth. Ever since he could remember he had been told stories about the mysterious prince who was his betrothed, and who one day would be called husband. As he grew older, Charles caught his thoughts drifting away from lessons under strict tutors, his mind slipping into the hazy daydream of his life yet to come…

In Shadow and in Silence – Yahtzee

Summary: Written for the following prompt: Erik is an aggressive, dangerous, cynical mutant, hardened from years of being passed through private laboratories and used for experimentation. He’s covered in surgical scars from operations, tattooed and bar coded like a lab rat, and blind from an experiment done on his eyes. … Charles Xavier finds out about him. Charles runs a sort of sanctuary for mutants that provides lost, abandoned, abused, runaway mutants with shelter, comfort, and help with ability control. He thinks he can rehabilitate Erik and save him from execution, and convinces the government that he can.

When Erik arrives, he is a lot worse than Charles thought he would be … Everyone else can see that Erik is a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but Charles refuses to give up on him. …

The first time Charles sneaks up on him wearing no metal, it triggers him and he reacts instinctively, with violence. … Erik discovers why Charles understands him so well: he was once used in experiments as well, experiments run by his own family, and in one of them, he lost his voice, so he uses his telepathy to communicate.

Blind Erik, mute Charles, the love.

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Prompt: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world. His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he’s kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life’s work and happiness.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Honest Bone and Burning Thought – Black_Betty

Summary: And so sometimes, his mind buzzing away, bright and brilliant and humming with pure expansive energy, Charles speaks without thinking at all. Without censoring himself. Without realizing that his brain has reached out and snatched something that was never his to know, or take…

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Written for the following prompt: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic. I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

#favourite cherik fics #fic recs #cherik fic recs #long post #I can't seem to make short lists #eh sorry about that #asks #cherik

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theradioghost · 5 years

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hey, can i pester you for some podcast recs? something with a good dose of humour and not too many episodes to catch up on. a sprinkle of queer romance would be a nice bonus. my fave so far is tsco starship iris, and i also loved greater boston, wooden overcoats, the bright sessions and caravan. and thanks always for all your great recs! you’ve brought many hours of joy into my life :)

We Fix Space Junk -- Two intergalactic repairpeople -- a knowledgeable cyborg veteran and a former socialite on the run -- travel the universe meeting people and fixing things at the behest of the terrifying intergalactic corporation they’re trying to work off their debts to. Hilarious British sci-fi sitcom featuring Evil Space Capitalism, many many wonderful AI characters, and an absolutely delightful teenage space wasp-human-cow hybrid princess who is probably off accomplishing her grandiose special destiny somewhere offscreen while the main characters deal with things like their bosses possibly trying to kill them (again).

Death by Dying -- People have a tendency to die in odd ways in the small town of Crestfall, Idaho. Luckily the town also has an Obituary Writer, an eccentric and nameless but impeccably stylish fellow whose closest friend is the Angel of Death, and who has a knack for solving murders even though that’s definitely not his job description. Throw in walrus haikus, extremely rude ravens, Something Mysterious And Malevolent Lurking In The Dark Woods Outside Of Town, disappearing childhood homes, silent nuns, ghost bicycles, and three man-eating cats, and you get something like a delightful cross between Wooden Overcoats and Lemony Snicket. (Also, OW is peak Canonically Bisexual Dumbass.)

Less is Morgue -- Riley is a paranoid, reclusive teenager with a fondness for conspiracy theories who lives in their parents’ basement. They’re also a predatory ghoul who feeds on human flesh. Evelyn is a cheerful, outgoing young woman with questionable tastes in media. She’s also a ghost, ever since she was killed by a falling stage light at a Nickelback concert 16 years ago. And since Riley dug up and ate Evelyn’s corpse, they’re roommates! Will they ever manage to record a coherent episode of their podcast without something going ridiculously wrong and/or Riley eating one of the guests? Probably not!

Victoriocity -- The steampunk buddy-cop comedy-mystery thriller you never knew you needed but definitely do! Featuring Inspector Fleet, a grouchy, extremely driven policeman looking for the murderer of the Empire’s greatest inventor, and Clara Entwhistle, an even more driven and unfailingly upbeat rookie journalist who has just arrived in the island-spanning, bizarre cityscape of alt-history Even Greater London. Come for some of my favorite sarcastic British narration since Adams and Pratchett, stay for characters-are-begrudgingly-forced-to-work-together-until-they-come-to-genuinely-and-deeply-care-about-one-another-as-friends trope. (Also for Tom “Eric Chapman” Crowley as the aforementioned grumpy detective.)

Quid Pro Euro -- From one of the other leads of Wooden Overcoats, this doesn’t have a typical plot as such but has made me laugh so hard I pulled a muscle despite the fact that I know nothing about the EU. Which is what this near-surreal, Look Around You-style comedy is about: Felix Trench’s vision of a simultaneously hilarious and terrifying alternate European Union, seen from the perspective of a serious of educational tapes from the ‘90s predicting what the EU would look like in the 21st century. It’s hard to describe this show in any way that does it justice, but it’s incredibly funny.

Time:Bombs -- A miniseries by the exalted creators of Wolf 359, which (because they are madmen) was written, recorded, and produced in the space of one week. Also, a comedy about an NYC bomb retrieval squad on New Year’s Eve, most of whom are just trying to get through the night while their leader attempts to break a record for most bombs cleared before the calendar ticks over. Chaos and hilarity ensure.

Superstition -- Wisecracking, bi, Jewish, definitely-a-private-eye-just-don’t-check-her-qualifications Jacqueline St. James receives a message from her father, which is weird, because her parents disappeared years ago. Following the trail leads Jack to Superstition, Arizona, a town in the middle of the desert where everyone’s got secrets, assorted ghosts/monsters/cryptids harrass the locals, and the missing persons rate is the highest in the nation. As a protagonist Jack is Looking For Trouble And If She Cannot Find It She Will Create It, so while Superstition isn’t a comedy per se, it’s got a fair share of laughs and is also just so, so excellent in general.

Standard Docking Procedure -- A self-declared hopepunk scifi workplace comedy about the somewhat dysfunctional staff of Pseudopolis Station, effectively a high-tech interstellar truck stop. It’s funny and heartwarming, nothing truly bad happens, and Julia Schifini is there.

Solutions to Problems -- A morally-questionable human named Janet who has defintely never done any illegal time travel and an easygoing, physically indescribably alien who likes to go by Loaf host an intergalactic advice podcast. Are you tired of your species’ insistence on solving everything via ritual combat? Not sure how to talk to your partner about whether body-swapping has a place in your sex life? Dealing with being a superpowered teenager summoned into being by the collective will of an apocalyptic groupthink cult? Janet and Loaf have you covered! Provided that Janet’s on-and-off girlfriend, the AI who supplies the air they breathe, doesn’t kill them all first. Oddly heartfelt comedy in the form of a relationship advice radio show from the Space Future.

Middle:Below -- This show’s tagline is “Remember: bad things WILL happen,” and that is basically a lie. This is actually a short, incredibly heartwarming and frequently funny show about Taylor Quinn, the only human with the ability to pass between the land of the living (aka the Middle) and the land of ghosts (the Below). Meaning, of course, that the dead call on him to fix all their problems, with the help of a girl named Heather, a ghost named Gil, and a cat named Sans. (Also, some of the most comparatively wild live shows I’ve ever heard.)

Inn Between -- Ever wonder what fantasy characters get up to between adventures, during all that time they seem to spend at inns? This show skips all the adventuring, question, and action, instead focusing on the quiet moments between where what is Definitely Not A D&D Party meet and progress from bickering strangers brought together by circumstance to close-knit found family -- all at the inn, of course. (Lots of queer folks in here also, although there’s no romance at least in the first couple seasons.)

The Godshead Incidental -- A relatively new but very exciting and so far really enjoyable show!! Following a young woman who writes an advice column through her life in a familiar, and yet strange city where anyone might be a minor god -- your editor, your landlord, that weird guy on the street who was shouting about how he’s the God of Memory and you got into a fight with him and now you keep forgetting everything? Also, your apartment is full of pigeons now because you found out the aforementioned landlord is secretly the god of doorknobs and he’s panicking. Good luck! (Starring Ishani Kanetkar, aka Arkady from Starship Iris!)

Gal Pals Present: Overkill -- Madison, a middle schooler at a Girl Scout camp, agrees to play a game with a somewhat tastelessly bright-pink Ouija board. However, Madison doesn’t know that she’s a natural medium, and now sarcastic mid-2000s 19-year-old Aya Velasquez has joined the many ghosts who are for some reason haunting scenic Harding Park. Aya, however, will not rest until she can solve her own murder (and possibly get to know that other ghost girl a bit better, who says romance has to stop when you’re dead?). Absolutely hilarious writing of a narrator who is almost definitely wearing spectral Uggs during the entire show.

Dark Ages -- The Rivercliffe Museum of Mostly Natural History is one of the finest museums anywhere! Or it would be, if anyone ever actually visited it. Or maybe if the staff weren’t a disastrous and dysfunctional collection of criminals, weirdos, wannabe immortals, idiot bisexuals who can’t just admit they like each other, and one extremely uptight elf with no people skills. Also, it would probably help if the legendary and fearsome Dark Lord, finally returned from his millennia of dormancy to complete his prophesied conquest of the world, wasn’t hanging around watching the chaos unfold because they’ve got his crown on display. (Fantasy workplace comedy with a theme song that did not need to go that hard?)

Brimstone Valley Mall -- It’s mid-December 1999, and at one mall in South Central Pennsylvania, a group of demons are going about their evil work -- namely, working at various dinky kiosks and restaurants, hoping of achieving every demon’s dream of getting to work at Hot Topic, trying not to do too much evil because Earth is way more fun than Hell and no one wants to get promoted back home, and preparing for their band's triumphant opening performance at the upcoming Y2K party. Just one problem: their lead singer is missing. Another absolute masterwork from The Whisperforge.

Arden -- 10 years ago, Hollywood starlet Julie Capsom vanished into the woods of northern California, leaving behind a car containing a human torso that may or may not have belonged to one Ralph Montgomery. Now, private eye Brenda Bentley and reporter Bea Casely, both of whom were among the first at the scene and both of whom have their own very strong opinions on the case, are setting out to solve the mystery on their true crime podcast, Arden. Providing, of course, they can stop arguing with each other long enough to solve it. (Or, a not-really-parody-but-definitely-comedy “true crime” podcast where the crime is a retelling of Romeo and Juliet -- and even knowing that, it’s still a genuine mystery with twists and a surprise ending! -- and the hosts are wlw Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing. In other words, it’s perfect. Season 2 is upcoming soon and is adapting Hamlet!!)

Alba Salix/The Axe and Crown -- Another high fantasy workplace sitcom, this one a medical comedy about the titular not-very-personable witch who runs the kingdom’s House of Healing and the various shenanigans she gets into, between her somewhat scatterbrained sister and brother-in-law the king and queen and her assistants, an overly-whimsical fairy and a wannabe monk forced to do community service. The same feed contains The Axe and Crown, a spinoff set in the same world that manages to simultaneously be a sitcom about the staff of a local pub trying to stave off foreclosure and come up with schemes to beat their business rivals, and a heartfelt story about gentrification and recovery starring a gay veteran with PTSD? Which is possibly one of my favorite podcasts? (Also contains one of the most unbelievable crossover cameos possible: Leon Stamatis.)

The Adventures of Sir Rodney the Root -- Also a high fantasy comedy! When a witch transforms heroic Sir Rodney into a small piece of wood, his closest companion Sir Gilbert must set out to cure him by collecting several highly powerful and dangerous relics, accompanied by a snarky dwarfen thief, an imperious princess, a slightly creepy human child raised by fairies, a picky elf sorcerer, a dead unicorn possessed by the ghost of a stoner, and a bard who breaks the fourth wall too much for his own good. So far as I can tell, nobody is straight.

The Amelia Project -- A dark comedy about a secret organization that helps people fake their deaths. Which is honestly a pretty full summary, barring the two important points that 1. this show contains possibly the most continuity-warping crossover event of all time (it’s the center point of this absolutely chaotic diagram), and 2. in one episode Felix Trench plays a character named Bartholomew Fuckface Chucklepants Knucklecracker.

#podcast recs #bobbie recommends things #yujacha #asks #my posts

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