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deeplyshalllow · 19 days ago

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An in depth study of Fiyero and Elphaba's first meeting in the Wicked movie

So I've wanted to do an analysis of this scene from the moment I saw it. It's such a great addition to canon and gives such a fascinating insight into both of their personalities and the facades they put on to others. It also gives hints of the fact that both of them are pretty good at breaking down each other's walls.

From the top:

“Woah, Woah there, woah.”

“I did not see her.”

“Yeah, neither did I.”

“You might want to, um”

“Ok.”

“You know,”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there, you must have...”

The first impression we get of Fiyero is that he’s kind. Obviously careless enough to hit a girl in the dark, but he immediately slows down and, even before Feldspar has told him to apologise, he’s got down and is about to make his way over.

It’s also important to note we that seeing him talk to a Horse as a friend, when just the scene prior we have seen that a large amount of the population don’t want Animals to talk at all. In fact, this is the only other human we see friends with an Animal in the entire movie, and it sets up immediately the fact that he will agree with Elphaba on her cause.

“...blended with the foliage.”

Here is his first reaction to Elphaba’s greenness. It is the rudest thing that Fiyero says to her all scene, and something that immediately puts Elphaba on the defensive, having heard shit like this all her life, but it’s also very on par with Fiyero and his constant habit of saying dumb shit whenever Elphaba is around (“yeah, or maybe it scratched me or something,” and “well, actually it was, but it wasn’t” come to mind), he’s surprised and he reacts with humour (something we see he does a lot).

It’s interesting to contrast this to his musical comment, “Well maybe the driver saw green and thought it meant go,” which is a lot more pointed and insulting, blaming the situation on her (though to be fair she does wake him up and attack him for what his carriage driver did), Fiyero in the movie reacts dumbly but not maliciously.

“Is this how you go through life? Just running amuck and trampling anyone in your path?”

Elphaba is immediately on the defensive. She’s already stressed about Doctor Dillamond, pissed off about being knocked over and now, as usual, she has met a new person who is insulting her skin tone. So she does what she does best, she puts her walls up and hides behind them.

“No.”

*Feldspar laughs*

Fiyero is shocked by this attack. He’s naturally charming, to the point where he relies on his charm to get him out of situations. So the fact it doesn’t work stuns him a little. This is why Feldspar laughs, because he knows Fiyero and how he normally acts, and it is funny to see him not immediately manage the situation.

“No, sometimes I’m asleep.” *looks at her flirtily*

Fiyero recovers, his walls are back up. He’s over the shock of seeing someone green and how she’s reacted to him, so he goes back to charm by flirting with her. Notice how he is using self derogatory humour, it’s easy charm that he knows how to use – he’s trying to ease the situation by insulting himself and making her laugh. It’s also another way of cultivating his image, Fiyero very deliberately portrays himself as stupid, flirty and lazy (he sings an entire song about it!) and here he is playing it up.

Also, I’m pretty sure this is a reference to their meeting in the musical (where he is actually asleep), which is cute.

*Awkward pause*, “Yeah, alright, alright, here we go. No, I’m not seasick.”

Elphaba, who is not at all used to people flirting with her, but is used to people asking questions and insulting her skin tone – has picked up none of the playful implications and only that he is stupid and lazy, and therefore starts the rant that she’s said 100 times before.

“Neither am I.”

“No. I did not eat grass as a child.”

“Oh you didn’t? I did!”

But Fiyero starts replying! Again, it’s all charm and self derogatory humour, but he’s sensed the unease, he did not come to insult or attack her, and he’s trying to lighten the situation with his usual techniques he uses on everyone – but they are not working.

“And yes, I have always been green.”

“And the defensiveness? Is that a recent development?”

And here we see Fiyero let down his shield a little, and let on that he’s less dumb than he’s acting. Fiyero is remarkably good at understanding people, it’s how he manages to maintain his facade in the first place – and it’s how he ends up being an effective double agent through most of act 2. Fiyero immediately realises that Elphaba is putting on an act too, that she’s not just attacking him because she’s annoyed at him but that there’s something more going on there.

I love it. I love it so much. It’s such a good addition to the musical canon, because all the traits for Fiyero to be like this are already there, and it adds an extra bit of depth to our understanding of why he’s fascinated with Elphaba – because he knows that she’s another person hiding her true self from the world. It’s such a good link to the Lion Cub scene later where Elphaba pretty much calls him out on the same thing.

*Elphaba stares*

*Fiyero tries a smoulder*

“Hm.”

There is a second here where Elphaba realises that she’s been called out. That she’s attacked him when he wasn’t being malicious and it does cause her to retreat slightly.

Fiyero, now in safer territory, puts his walls back up and goes back to flirting. Elphaba, again not used to this at all, doesn’t really understand this and is still in a bad mood about the Animals, so breaks the moment.

*Feldspar laughs, Fiyero tries to shh him but laughs too.*

*Elphaba notices and stalks off.*

So this is interesting. From context clues, what Feldspar is laughing at earlier and Fiyero’s comment later, it appears he’s laughing at Fiyero, that his easy charm hasn’t worked and he’s found himself on the back foot. Fiyero, bewildered, but still playing up his persona, laughs too. Elphaba sees this and, obviously, immediately takes this as them laughing at her greenness, and therefore any goodwill from what he’s said is gone, and she stalks off.

“I’m off for some more trampling, may we offer you a ride?”

Fiyero, bless him, tries again. He’s seen he’s offended her, though probably hasn’t quite connected exactly why, and tries to make right. So he goes in with more self derogatory humour as well as a genuinely kind offer – it probably isn’t safe for her to walk back in the dark – but the moment has been lost.

“No thanks. Get stuffed.”

Elphaba’s walls are back up again. She might regret the “stuffed” comment by the end of act 2 though...

“Wow, Feldspar, we have just been spurned by a girl.”

“Indeed.”

“Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Fiyero ends the scene baffled, unsettled, but interested. He plays it off as if he’s normal and also reassembles his walls and defensiveness, again playing into the lazy playboy persona he puts on, ready for his next scene with Galinda.

Analysis of Fiyeraba interactions in the Dancing Through Life/Ozdust Scene

Analysis of Fiyeraba interactions in the Lion Cub Scene in the movie

#wicked #wicked the movie #fiyero #elphaba #fiyeraba #wicked movie

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garbagegarbagefruit · 15 days ago

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eye for an eye

Zoro x Sanji

✦ Summary: Sanji finds Zoro on Sabaody. Zoro realizes that something about the cook has changed, but he can't put his finger on it. His determination to find out exactly what it is pushes them to share a few moments that neither of them would have anticipated two years ago. But a lot has changed since the last time they were here, hasn't it?

✦ Word Count: 3.7k

✦ Warnings: light spoilers for the time skip and fishman island, light angst, references to past fights (Thriller Bark, Sabaody)

✦ Notes: I saw this beautiful art of Sanji with heterochromia and I wanted to write the moment that Zoro realizes this about him. I'm not up to date yet (just finished dressrosa) but if you like it pls let me know and I'll think about writing a part two once I've got all the lore from Sanji's backstory!

this is my first piece of writing for one piece - critiques welcome but pls be nice:)

✦ AO3 Link

divider by @drinkthesky

Zoro caught a glimpse of something golden, glittering in the sun above the surface. The pirate ship he had so unceremoniously slashed in half parted the water around them and released a flurry of bubbles as it pushed its way up. The two halves of the ship emerged, sending furious waves and a shower of salty droplets in every direction.

The source of that opulent shimmer stood on the cliff side, staring down at him with an insufferable smirk. The crew of the ruined ship were trying to give Zoro an earful but he ignored them. He was busy studying his crewmate, cataloging every change, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer relief of seeing one of his family again.

The cook had gotten taller, bulkier - rigorous training evident in the fit of his clothes. He had the same nonsensical, curling eyebrows and signature cloud of cigarette smoke circling his head like a misshapen halo. The sun gilded his shaggy blonde hair and illuminated his one visible eye. It was Sanji, unmistakably.

However, amidst the familiarity, there was some change that Zoro couldn't put his finger on. Something striking, and yet he couldn't name it. He wondered, briefly, if his scar had struck the cook in the same way. But Sanji didn't mention it. Flicking his gaze over the cook's form, he checked for new scars and found none.

There was no time to dwell on it. A barrage of classic insults and scolding greeted him from the blonde’s mouth and he found himself falling into old patterns like they had never been separated. Whatever the change was, though, it lodged itself in the back of his mind and insisted on resurfacing periodically even as the pair found themselves running toward an explosion that almost certainly meant Luffy was close.

Now that they were reunited, he had all the time in the world to spend with his crew, because he was never going to let them be separated like that again. The problem was the desperation crawling under his skin. The need to know every change that occurred, even though each one would settle heavy in his belly like a stone. Weighing him down with the knowledge that the time they had spent apart was simply gone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was still bothering him, hours later. After the crew had reunited, escaped attacks from seemingly all sides, and begun their descent into the sea.

Beneath the ocean, the world was surreal and beautiful. It was like they were being rewarded for all their hard work, all that time apart. They had hours to bask in the scenery and simply be together. So many days out of the last seven-hundred-something were spent wondering what the crew was up to, and now those empty spaces could be filled in.

Sitting on the grass of the Sunny, Zoro watched the filtered sunlight shift and change with the moving water as they continued to sink deeper into the ocean. Shadows of fish and seaweed danced in a rhythm with the wavering light, the resin coating casting its iridescent glow across every inch of the ship. He was filled with nothing but quiet contentment, as the thing that had been driving him for the last two years had finally been satisfied. He was with his family again.

That should be the only thought in his mind, and yet every time he looked in Sanji's direction, he was reminded of that thing he could not figure out. He didn't particularly want to give Sanji any extra attention at the moment. He lay pathetically sprawled on his back with blood pouring out of his face from his stupid perverted tendencies. But then the blonde opened his eyes, gaze following Chopper’s pointed hoof to a school of fish as it crossed above their bubble. A beam of light kissed his features, catching his uncovered eye and illuminating the iris like a gemstone.

Zoro's breath caught in his throat, his lungs filling with something angry and burning. So, he did the only thing he knew to do when he was feeling bothered - he picked a fight.

Some senseless, muttered remark thrown the cook's way escalated seamlessly into a shouting match and from there into sparring. Zoro was immediately scolded by the little doctor for going after Sanji in his injured state. But that only spurred Sanji's ego, and Chopper left them to it with a sigh.

From the start, it was obvious that Sanji was not at his usual strength due to the blood loss. He was not weaker by much, just enough for Zoro to get what he wanted. Later, they'd fight for real and find out just what kind of training had occurred during their time apart. But right now, Zoro had a single goal.

However, the cook had started to suspect that something was up from the oddly determined look in the swordsman's steely eyes. He fought to keep distance between them as Zoro's advances invaded his space and pushed him further and further back.

Zoro regrouped and attacked with more fervor, leaving no room for retaliation. He kept his focus on Sanji's face, determined to catch another glimpse of crystalline eyes. Sanji only grew more defensive under the extra attention, desperate to get out from under the swordsman's stare.

"Just let me see," Zoro grumbled, growing sweaty and frustrated as the cook evaded him again. He had not intended to say the words out loud.

"See what? " Sanji demanded.

He faltered for a split second and his fate was sealed. Zoro gained the upper hand and Sanji went flying backwards, landing at the edge of the grass with a dull thump. Zoro wasted no time, throwing himself down to sit on his legs and hooking his own knees and ankles under and around to keep the cook from escaping. Both wrists were caught and held tightly in Zoro's grasp, and he let out a triumphant huff as Sanji cursed.

"Why are you being so weird?" Sanji barked, wriggling in Zoro's grasp.

His legs may be strong, but Zoro had placed his full weight on them and he had certainly gained more muscle in the last two years. Sanji noted this with irritation, resolving to find out exactly how much Zoro weighed these days so he could make that his new training goal.

Zoro didn't answer the question. The intensity in his gaze did not waver as he leaned forward and pushed Sanji's bangs to the side with his free hand. It was a little rougher than he meant, though he upheld the belief that his hands were not made to be gentle.

"What the fuck?" Zoro scowled, eyebrows drawn tightly together.

The answer to his own burning question lay beneath him, flushed and swearing under his breath as Zoro studied his features. It was strange and almost startling to see his whole face at once. Framed by those ridiculous curling brows, one eye glittered a beautiful green-blue, a perfect match to the ocean surrounding them. One was brown, lit up in tones of molten honey by the meager sunlight. The swordsman's eye widened, his grip on Sanji's loosening.

He was more surprised that he was right than anything - he had been certain he'd never seen that shade of amber before. When he closed his eyes and pictured Sanji, it was always with that teal-blue.

Not that he was picturing Sanji with his eyes closed, ever.

" What? " Sanji spat. He used Zoro's momentary shock to wriggle out from under his grasp and scramble out of reach, hair falling back into place. He panted, catching his breath as he matched Zoro's scowl and waited for an explanation.

"Why are they different?" Zoro's frown did not ease.

"They've always been different," Sanji rolled his visible eye, voice dripping with disdain and something that sounded a little like surprise. "You seriously never noticed?"

"How was I supposed to? You always have your hair in the way!” Zoro retorted, standing to his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to accept the embarrassment that was attempting to sink its way under his skin. There was no way Sanji had two different colored eyes and he had never noticed.

Then again. When he thought back to any time before Thriller Bark, there was a film over his memories. As if, before he'd thrust his hands into that bubble, he'd only ever been half awake. Indeed, there was something about Sanji now, whether it be the surreal lighting of the deep sea, or the new information, that made him seem so much more vivid than before.

"Figures, idiot marimo," Sanji sat back against the deck railing, procuring cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Zoro's eyes followed his movements, a little dazzled by his vibrancy. "The only things you notice are booze and swords."

Zoro scoffed, but didn't try to refute it. It was true. At least, before . Not now, though. He had spent the last two years painfully conscious and he would not be going back to sleep now.

"Why'd you switch your hair like that anyways?" Zoro heard himself ask.

He leaned his hip against the railing, staring down at the cook through a haze of smoke. It was quiet for a minute, that honey eye focused on something far away. Zoro had started to wonder if he'd really spoken his question out loud when he heard a quiet, resigned sigh.

"Never liked my brown eye," Sanji shrugged one shoulder, a delicate pink creeping over his cheeks and ears as he continued, "But while I was gone, someone told me they liked it. I just thought I would try something new. It's not a big deal."

The averted gaze and slight waver in his voice gave the cook away. Zoro would have known anyway, without those clues. It was a big deal. When had he ever seen Sanji change his routine? His mannerisms, turns of phrase? Even his suit was the same style that he had always worn. It may have even been one of the same ones from two years ago.

There was something there to be pieced together, taking shape in between all of the things that hadn't been said. Sanji was saying the same thing Zoro had been thinking for two years. This small change had been made like a vow. That nothing would ever be the same.

Zoro opened his mouth, words hanging off the tip of his tongue. A compliment. A thank you. Something to acknowledge the weight of this exchange. An offering of his own vulnerability - anything he could give to even things out. Sanji did not give him the chance. Whether he had someone read his expression or not, Zoro didn’t know. But he cut him off, the words coming out in a rush.

“You owe me for this.”

“For what?!” Zoro sputtered, indignant, certain that he had not done anything wrong.

“For getting in my personal space,” He said, matter of fact, “And being a freak.”

He stood with a huff before the swordsman could respond, shoving his hands into his pockets and angling his body away. He threw over his shoulder in a tone of pure ice,

"If you tell anyone else or try to tease me for this, I'll break your fucking swords over my knee.”

With that, the blonde returned to the others, clothes smoothed and posture straightened like nothing of importance had just passed between them. Nobody questioned him, chalking up the fight to their typical bickering. It was so convincing that Zoro started to second guess himself. Maybe Sanji really didn't care.

But either way, Zoro himself was stunned, scrambling to figure out how to move forward while balancing the delicate thing that Sanji had placed in his hands. The cook may have tried to veil its importance but his hollow threat betrayed him. If there was no trust between them, there would have been no confession at all.

That small secret had already burrowed itself deep into Zoro's chest, close to Kuina's dream.

Kuina's dream, in contrast, was heavy like a boulder. A boulder that had been thrust upon his shoulders and that he carried with him each day, pursuing with ferocity and equal measures of blood and sweat and tears.

This was something else. Smaller, softer. Something that wouldn't be heavy so carry. Like a pearl, made of glass and fished from the mysterious depths of the ocean.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Zoro closed his good eye and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Behind him, the bacchanal carried on. He breathed deep, grateful for the respite offered by this alcove. The tall windows of the palace painted the balcony with patches of warm light, glittering against the empty glass bottles strewn over the stairs.

The crew, in various combinations of duos and trios, made their way out here throughout the night for a breath of fresh air. Nami and Usopp had gone back to the party a while ago, but Zoro had remained on his own, appreciative of the cool quiet. If he listened, he could pick out their drunken laughter from among the other raucous partygoers. And with his eye closed, he could find the shape of their auras, shining brighter than all the others.

He smiled as those glowing auras danced, safe and carefree. There was a lot to think about, a lot waiting for them back on the surface. But they had done good work for fishman island. And most importantly, they were all here . Together again and celebrating after a job well done. Just like before, like no time had passed at all. Or at least, it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed.

Approaching footsteps interrupted his focus, his spine tensed out of instinct. Then he registered the familiar click of the cook’s dress shoes, and his shoulders dropped. He did not need haki to recognize that sound. But he kept his eye closed anyways, watching the marbled shape draw closer. It had such vivid colors, like shades of amber and honey against a cloudless sky.

His eyelid fluttered open, and there was Sanji, standing above him. Glassy-eyed, rosy-cheeked, with his hands in his pockets and a lit cigarette dangling precariously from his crooked smile.

"I know what I want," Sanji announced by way of greeting, pointing a finger too close to Zoro's face. He was tipsy, enough for every sentence to string together into a lilting accent, a few words that Zoro didn't know sometimes making their way in.

"What?" Zoro asked, gaze falling to Sanji's mouth to watch how he formed the words. The swordsman wasn't exactly sober, either.

"For my IOU, mosshead. I know what I want," Sanji said, oblivious to Zoro's inner monologue. He smelled like wine, his lips tinted a plummy color.

"And?"

Zoro was not exactly sure what he was expecting, but it was not for Sanji to plop down next to him and lean in close. One pale hand reached for his face, clumsily clinking his golden earrings together before landing a little roughly against a sharp, bronze cheekbone. Curling eyebrows drew together as a thumb swept over the deep scar interrupting Zoro's skin. From his forehead, carving a jagged line through his eyebrow, over the delicate skin of his eyelid, and halfway down to his jaw.

"I want to know what happened to your eye. Because you won’t tell anybody," Sanji informed him. Then he snorted to himself and giggled, "An eye for an eye."

Zoro's heartbeat quickened. Of course it would, if someone who only reached for him in order to start a fight suddenly invaded his personal space. His body was reacting to a threat. And that accent was driving him crazy. He didn't know where it was from. It made him want to pry the cook open and hunt for every secret that he kept hidden between his ribs.

Sanji fed the crew every day. He kept them all alive. He was their lifeline, and yet Zoro barely knew anything about him. Did the others know any more than him? It was a thought that had been rattling around in his mind since he had learned of the cook's heterochromia. (A word that Robin had taught him, and that he had horribly misunderstood at first.)

"Well?" Sanji's voice startled Zoro from his contemplation.

Nothing happened.

It was his first instinct, but the words stopped halfway up his throat. He couldn't do that to the cook again, watch his face contort like Zoro had pierced his chest with an arrow. He cleared his throat and conjured up a different answer. One that would move him out from under the intensity of Sanji's gaze, but buy him a little time to gather himself before he had to pry open that part of his memory. With care, he wrapped his fingers around the cook's wrist and lifted that curious hand away.

"I'll tell you someday," Zoro said quietly, his voice gravelly with some emotion he didn't know the name of. "When I'm ready."

Sanji stared at him for a moment, seemingly considering. Then he shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

"That's fair," He said, smoke pouring out between his teeth as his eyes flicked over the swordsman's face, openly studying the scar. "But I'm going to hold you to it. Don't think I won't remember just because I'm a tiiiiiny bit tipsy."

Zoro snorted at that, earning him a half-hearted kick that smarted more than he'd ever admit. Sanji had gotten much, much stronger. He didn't bother hitting back.

"You don't usually drink so much," He said instead, shifting his focus to something far away, starting to grow uncomfortable under Sanji's relentless stare. He failed to see the parallel between this moment and his own scrutinizing glare pinning the blonde to the lawn of the Sunny.

"Happy," Sanji said in response, his cheeks rosy as he offered a lopsided grin. Placing his cigarette between his lips, he breathed deep and let his head fall back. Three defined rings of smoke rose from his pursed lips, floating for a second before dissipating into the night air.

"Show off," Zoro muttered, averting his gaze as he tried and failed to keep his own lips from turning upwards, affected by the cook's contagious mood.

"Only for you," Sanji laughed, the sound closer to a bubbling giggle. He looked at Zoro again, and all of that mirth slipped away into a seriousness. Like he couldn't stop thinking about Zoro's scar for long. "Is your eye still...."

He trailed off, wincing like he could feel the injury himself.

"Open it," Zoro said.

Sanji grimaced, but he took the offer. His touch was impossibly gentle, the skin of his hands smooth and warm, contrasting with the cool metal of his rings. He rested his hand on Zoro's cheek with much more care than the first time, fingertips brushing his hairline as he gingerly pushed up the scarred eyelid with his thumb.

That softness filled Zoro's chest with a wave of something strong and urgent. He was watching the cook’s face as he carried out his investigation, and damn those eyes really were something. He was less careful in his wine-induced stupor, letting his bangs show more of his face than usual. And the swordsman was reminded that his eyes were like nothing he’d seen before. It was not just their striking contrast, but the unreal saturation of each hue. Like gemstones, he’d thought before. Like aquamarine and tiger’s eye.

His thoughts about gemstones were cut short as he watched Sanji frown at what he saw, drawing his touch away as softly as he'd placed it. Sanji had always been Zoro's antithesis. If Zoro's hands were made to be rough, stained with blood and cruelty, then Sanji's must be meant to be just like this . Zoro silently vowed to keep them that way.

"It's-"

"Glass," Zoro finished for him, "They said it'd help the tissue heal better. Doesn't seem like my eyelid wants to work any more, though. I don't really care either way."

"Does it make it harder? To fight?"

"No," Zoro said, a little too quickly, "It won't."

He paused, and then swallowed hard, waiting to see if Sanji would acknowledge what he had just confessed. Praying that Sanji might understand what Zoro had given him. The same thing the cook had gifted him, only a few days ago.

He dared one last glance into that honey brown eye, and was met with a solemnity that rattled him. It was gone in a flash as Sanji looked away, taking a deep breath and leaning back on his elbows, head tilting once more toward the sky.

Zoro followed suit, laying flat on his back. The marble offered a welcome coolness against his heated skin. His heart was racing so wildly he worried Sanji could somehow feel it through the stone.

Something was beginning to grow in the warm biome of his chest, growing roots around his heart. A beginning, so tangible and overwhelming he could only brace himself and let it wash over him.

He remembered the last time he felt like this. The sound of his swords clattering to the ground as he swallowed Luffy's dream and exhaled his own. When he traded his life to Kuma in exchange for his captain's freedom. He had realized in that moment that Luffy had started something bigger than any of them. Bigger than any of them could even comprehend. The scale of Luffy's influence on the world had crashed into him as harshly as the pain had. And he had known that this was only the start of everything to come - the good and the bad.

He felt it again, now, as his pulse raced under his skin, Sanji's warmth bleeding into his side where they weren't even touching. Something was beginning, here. Something that made him feel wide awake, twice as alive. His hands twitched with the desire to protect it, whatever it was. To hold it tight within his grasp.

He thought back to the moment he had seen Sanji's other eye for the first time. And as the cook closed the gap between them and leaned his knee against Zoro's, the same words he had thought then became etched into his being.

Nothing would ever be the same.

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tablestoastandtime · 10 months ago

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Legacy and Shadows

Say what you will about large parts of Tim's characterization being a product of the archetype he used to embody in the DC universe, it's kind of fucked up to suddenly become a completely different kind of character without your say so.

Or, Tim and the fact he doesn't get to have a future.

Tim wasn't sure what to make of the way everyone seemed confident that one day Damian would be Batman.

The kid was the only one to say it out loud, for the most part, but like a surprising amount of things that came out of his mouth everyone seemed to mostly take it for truth. And to be fair, when had Damian ever let anyone really stop him from going after something he felt he had a right to? So maybe it was true, if only because he was going to make sure of it.

It was just. People used to think that about Tim, too. Not that he'd ever said that, ever even wanted it. If anything, Tim had spent as much time as he could reminding people that he wasn't Batman and had no intention of being him. But the shadow of it had lingered, and part of Tim had been bracing for it for years.

After all, Dick wanted to be Batman even less than Tim did, had initially been willing to let the mantle die to avoid it. Dick was Nightwing in a way not everyone ever got to inhabit their titles. Part of what made Dick one of the best of them was how he managed the split; by not letting there be one. Dick was Nightwing was Coach Grayson was whatever bullshit name he'd picked up while playing super spy. He never stopped being himself in any of those roles, for all that he'd put on the appropriate hat to play the crowd. There was a difference between performing and lying, and Dick was born for the lights.

Batman didn't have much to do with light even at the best of times.

And on the other end of the spectrum, Batman was bad for Jason in a way that honestly caught Tim off guard when he first saw it. Sure none of them had been at their best back then, all alone in their own seas of grief, but Jason had lost whatever stability he'd had for a while there, and was only more recently leveling back out. He'd latched onto the mantle as both connection and insult, a last 'fuck you' to a man he wasn't ready to let go of yet. For Jason the cowl hadn't been about any actual interest in the job that needed doing. And yeah, maybe Tim was a bit biased because if he ever saw Jason in a batsuit again he was liable to do something truly stupid to pay him back for last time. What was worse, being attacked by a symbol of trauma or a symbol of faith?

Tim sure knew that he hadn't liked his end of the stick, at the very least. Maybe he'd feel differently if things hadn't gone the way they had, but he didn't want Jason to be Batman and it was only mostly personal.

Even before all that though, the idea of legacy had still been haunting Tim for longer than he'd wanted to admit. People died, heroes died, Tim knew that better than he knew what school he'd taken second year bio at, but the job always remained. Dick had only been interested in doing part of that job. He'd do the parts he wanted to well, Tim had always believed that, but that still left the rest of the job.

And Tim had kind of figured that would be his responsibility.

He hadn't always been happy about it, had resented the shapes Bruce built into his work even as he'd learned more and more why they'd been necessary to keep the undead freight train of the Bat going. Tim didn't like a lot of what Batman had to be to be effective, but he understood it and he didn't want to see Gotham or the world go without the pillar he represented. If you wanted a job done right, sometimes you had to do it yourself. Tim wouldn't ask anyone else to do something he wasn't willing to do, and if it meant Gotham got to keep its hero then yeah, he'd put on the cowl one day. He'd already tried once.

More than that, Tim was pretty sure Bruce used to see things the same way. Half of his training only made sense if it was to be something that was both more and less than Robin. He'd been preparing Tim for a role that wanted to eat him alive, and for all that Tim had gotten maybe more attached than was strictly healthy to the Robin mantle, it had become a part of him rather than his whole identity. Robin leapt into dark and danger feet first. To be Batman was to live there all the time.

Whether Tim had liked it or not, he'd spent the better part of the last four years half-knowing he'd have to move there one day and he'd lived like it was true. Frustrated, fighting it sometimes and dutifully twisting his edges to better fit others, but always like it was a future he couldn't afford to be unprepared for.

And then Damian came into their lives and Darkseid tried to transtemporally nuke Tim's remaining mental health. There was a paranoid imp that lived in the back of Tim's head that still half-believed that the whole thing had been another elaborate test, except this time if it had been then Tim must have failed because he never did get his life back afterwards.

Tim put himself and everything he believed into a blender to find the cracks in everyone else's certainty and for all that he'd been right it had never even mattered. The Justice League found out about and went after Bruce independently. They'd only called him after he'd spent months playing into his own worst instincts to get the job done, just to do almost all of the work in front of him.

Maybe he'd done it all wrong. Maybe he'd been doing it wrong for a while.

Even if he hadn't wanted it, he'd been Tim Drake. Robin. The kid who might one day be Batman. And now, by some silent consensus he hadn't been invited to, he wasn't.

It was a relief. It was a deeply haunted house he'd been written out of the will for, it was a black hole that had materialized over his head and swallowed everything he had seen ahead of him.

It was the reality Tim needed to figure out how to live with.

He was doing his best these days, trying to fit the pieces of the person he used to be into the new shape of his life, but he kept cutting himself on the edges where they didn't quite line up. Cut other people sometimes too, even when he tried not to. But when he tried to take space to keep the sharpness to himself, it took his eyes off the movement of the world and when he looked up he had to start all over again to try to put together the puzzle of what he was going to do for the rest of his life.

And through it all, Tim kept turning over the issue of finding a name to use, methodologies to employ, somewhere he could even live, because the ones he used to have didn't really belong to him anymore. Never had, in all fairness.

They'd always been things gifted to him in exchange for dedication and hard work. He'd thought at the time that had meant earning. Now, of course, he knew better.

And now he had to do without them.

Who was Tim Drake if he was never going to be Batman? Who was Tim Drake, as someone who used to be Robin?

He had no idea. Tim just hoped it didn't take the rest of his life to figure it out.

#tim drake #my writing #quick little exercise to try to get back into the habit of writing a thought to completion

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floweycidal · 1 month ago

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do you think when flowey was a wee weed and just got into calling himself flowey that he had a kind of embarrassing stage he does not want to talk or even think about where he tried too hard to be the opposite of asriel and it was so obvious everyone could tell it was asriel

BAHAHAHAHA, YOU BET I DO! this is probably going to be as headcanon-y as it gets (kinda), sorry in advance. but really, making him a total sopping wet soggy loser is the best part of writing him. it's my favorite angle, no doubt.

the first month of being "flowey" was an exercise in second-hand embarrassment, except the person you're embarrassed for is yourself. and you can't even leave the room to escape it, because surprise! you are the room. you're a flower. stuck there. living it.

he had it all planned out. goodbye asriel dreemurr, the prince of crying-at-literally-everything, hello to... whatever cool and clever thing he was supposed to become. the details were fuzzy, but he figured being soulless meant the whole "evil" thing would come naturally.

it did not come naturally.

the cracks showed almost immediately. everything he tried just came out wrong. his threats sounded more like worried suggestions. his evil schemes kept accidentally making things better. his idea of entropy was essentially community service with attitude.

he couldn't even get the basics right. he'd tried tossing out sick burns, but they'd just hit with all the impact of a wet napkin. they weren't even insults half the time—just weirdly specific observations that petered off awkwardly.

he sucked at it. no way around it. he sucked ass.

so, he worked harder. determined to sound edgy, bad to the stem—whatever that meant—but it didn’t seem to take. every affront felt more like an accident than an attack.

and the laugh. god, the laugh. he practiced it, forced it, tried every variation. dry chuckles, derisive cackles, even an exaggerated villain’s howl. none of them worked. what kept slipping out instead was the exact same dorky laugh that used to bubble up when #she would do silly voices during storytime.

this was the worst. he was the worst at being the worst.

his own body double-crossed him at every turn, still running on years of ingrained kindness his mind was trying to stamp out. he'd be right in the middle of his most "menacing" speech yet, really getting into the whole eternal suffering thing, when someone would sneeze.

"bless you!"

every. time.

the number of “villainy” monologues ruined by his automatic politeness was actually impressive. really, it was almost a talent.

it was a drawn-out process, this transformation. no guidebooks or cheat sheets. however... i’d argue the closest thing he had to a mentor here was toriel.

she didn't know it was him. obviously. somehow that made it worse, because she kept almost-recognizing things. little stuff he hadn't managed to burn away yet.

a familiar turn of phrase. how he'd end sentences. that godawful giggle that still sounded too much like pillow forts and frolicking in the mud. how he’d fill glasses, just enough to make them brim above the edge. the efficient way.

each time her eyes would catch on these moments, these tiny betrayals of self, he'd slam that reset button with all six petals. nu-uh, no buckaroo.

her reactions were the compass he followed, pointing to what needed to be carved away. reset after reset, he got better at it. harsher. finer. a little less like the kid who used to run up to her with flower crowns and scraped knees.

the kindnesses got rarer; the callousness came easier.

never easy enough, though.

she'd still tilt her head sometimes, something glittering in her eyes like she was hearing the first few notes of a song she’d once known by heart. and he'd realize he'd effed up again, let some stupid little piece of asriel show through.

she’d never know she was teaching him how to stop being her son. to her, he was just some weird flower guy that occasionally felt eerily familiar, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

every time she almost intuited something in him, he'd reload, desperate to finally become someone she wouldn't know at all.

ahhhhh. and so it came full circle. in his frenzied bid to unlearn being her child, he was still (by the most bruisingly contorted logic) turning to her for guidance. still just a kid, looking to his mom for answers. just… not in the way either of them would’ve wanted.

#flowey undertale #flowey the flower #flowey #toriel undertale #flowey ut #toriel dreemurr #sillyposting #not-so-silly #ask #i love toriel #half of me just wanted to write something for her #and him ig. he's there too

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maspers · 4 months ago

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As the war raged on and on across space, time, and the whole of reality, there was one thought in the back of every faction's mind.

"Who's next?"

The universe is a big place, plenty of room to wage war between those who would harness the powers of Heart, Mind, Dream, and Dark, and that was a good thing. Because, people were beginning to realize, that meant they didn't have to wage war anywhere near Planet Pop Star. A tiny little planet, sitting there in the unambiguously unclaimed territory of the Gamble Galaxy, practically ripe for the picking to be conquered. Its Inhabitants largely weak and extremely friendly across the board, and filled with lush flora and vibrant fauna to basically fulfill any need for resources you might have. And yet…

Dark Matter had tried first, to the surprise of nobody. The black mass was always expanding and attempting to subsume all into itself. But despite its mindless devouring there was a reason it was feared across reality. Everyone expected Pop Star to be absorbed and assimilated.

Instead, the shadows sent over there were never seen again. Dark Matter, being Dark Matter, could not allow this insult to its existence to stand, so it launched a full-scale assault of the planet, and when those further attacks failed the Zero emerged from the cloud for the first time in centuries to attack the planet directly.

And it got annihilated. It bears repeating, THE ZERO, the centerpiece of a primal matter and the EYE of a GOD got annihilated. Its broken, bleeding corpse was dragged back into the mass as the shadows fled back out into space.

Those who heard about it reacted with shock, and disbelief. Dark Matter, defeated so soundly? Impossible. And due to the nature of Dark Matter, it was a story that couldn't be confirmed. So everyone just filed the reports under "look into this later, if you have the time" and went back to waging cosmic war. And things stayed quiet. For a time.

Until the tolling bells of a NOVA were heard ringing throughout Gamble Galaxy.

Everyone within reach of that horrifying sound was filled with terror, and rightfully so. After all, the clockwork wish-granting stars created by the Ancients of long ago were one of the most potent weapons in the universe, so much so that the usage of one was said to signal one of two things: the start of a massive conflict, or the end of one. But that terror was followed by confusion. After all, none of those currently capable of utilizing NOVAs were anywhere near Gamble Galaxy... Which only led to more terror. A dormant NOVA, one hidden by the Ancients in a pocket of Spacetime, had been summoned. Which meant someone with completely unknown goals had the opportunity to change the universal norm permanently. Everyone within earshot waited with bated breath.

But nothing happened. Well, nothing that anyone noticed until later. Those who monitored the crystal prison of the Galacta Knight noticed their time stream alteration detectors flicker for a brief moment as some new scars appeared on the angel's armor where there were none before, but the exact connection to the wishes granted is unknown. And it was wishes, plural. At least two, possibly more, as the chiming of the NOVA recurred. But ultimately, nothing of note occurred. Whatever the wishes did, their effects must have been local enough to not be of consequence.

What WAS of consequence was what happened next. A bright burst of light, blinding the entire galaxy. And a horrific gut wrenching sound familiar to any that had fought in the universal war long enough: the sound of a NOVA dying. But usually it took armies to take down a single NOVA, and Pop Star had no such resources. And yet, the epicenter was in Pop Star's upper atmosphere. With that bright explosion, Pop Star had unknowingly announced its presence to the whole of reality. Now everyone knew that something dangerous was there. The only question was what that dangerous thing wanted.

Naturally, that was when Dark Matter went back for round two.

Its failed previous attempt had been recuperated from. The Zero had been resurrected, Planet Dark Star had been moving itself closer and closer to Gamble Galaxy. In all honesty, Dark Matter had the entirety of the cluster in its sights, and would not accept no for an answer. As far as Dark Matter was concerned, it had not even asked a question, merely stated the fact that all would become like unto itself.

It began by creating a Miracle, a powerful shape-shifting weapon, onto the Fairy planet of Ripple Star. Located on the outskirts of the Cluster and actively participating in the war, the conflict between Dark Matter and the fairies did not raise any alarm to the other factions. But as Ripple Star gradually succumbed to the shadows people began to grow more concerned. When the fairies' greatest weapon and energy source was then witnessed being ejected from the planet entirely and deep into the Gamble Galaxy before it was fractured, those on more friendly terms with the fairies now had cause for alarm. With the local superpower taken down, it seemed like Dark Matter would finally have a new stronghold.

Then, almost as soon as Ripple Star had been fully engulfed, the darkness was shattered. The Miracle Matter was dismantled. Soon after, Dark Star exploded as the power of a repaired and fully operational Crystal was deployed directly into the Zero Two. Dark Matter, for the second time, had been dealt a crushing blow. And this one was a blow it could not recover from. Its core completely dismantled, the shadows dispersed into nothingness. Not completely of course. As a primal force in the universe a total eradication of the Matter most Dark is impossible, and smaller coagulations of it would return to haunt the universe from time to time, but as far as the general populace was concerned Dark Matter had been defeated for good, and the Fairies had somehow managed to come back from what should have been complete and utter defeat.

How the fairies managed it is a secret they keep hidden, but the most likely option is they had assistance, probably from the Inhabitants of one of the planets that the crystal shards rained down upon. But of those worlds... One was Ripple Star itself. Two of them have Inhabitants too primitive for advanced space travel, much less the ability to wage war on a cosmic scale. Another planet's civilization has long since gone extinct leaving only ruins and the prismatic security system Pix to guard them. And while the Humans that once inhabited Shiver Star can still be seen throughout the universe on occasion, they're no longer the superpower they once were as their home planet was abandoned due to nuclear winter. The only option left was Pop Star.

The Fairies refuse to elaborate, but since then they've been increasingly prevalent on the war front, displaying powers and weaponry beyond what they'd previously used. And, some claim, they've been actively suppressing information about Pop Star and the surrounding galaxy from leaking out to the war at large.

Wariness of Pop Star aside, the wars continued. The universe is a big place, with lots of stuff to fight over. But every once in a while the allure of Pop Star would call to one nation or another, and they'd divert their path to the outer parts of the universe to take a crack at claiming whatever power lay there.

All of them failed.

The ambitious thieves known as the Squeak Squad likely got off the lightest. They'd attempted to rob the micronation of Dream Land blind, only to stumble across a Nebula of Dark Matter residue and be quickly dealt with.

The Witch Drawcia made an attempt, using her powerful magicks to warp the planet against itself. It wasn't enough to stop whatever resides there, however, as soon Drawcia was forced to draw upon the insidious power of Soul to continue fighting, and even then she still fell. Her screams echoed across Space, and since then other Witch Sisters have followed her to their apparent dooms, having never been heard of again as they've encountered Pop Star itself or the remnants of its past foes.

Everyone was shocked when the Underworld made a move, when it had previously been content to watch the unending conflict and absorb the hearts of those who passed away into its own forces. Necrodeus apparently attempted to strike the mysterious force residing on the star-shaped planet directly, and has yet to be heard from since. Likely because the jaw bones that permit him to speak were disintegrated. And this defeat of the King of Hell only led more to try their hand over the years.

Even Patch Land gave it a go. Yes, peaceful, fun loving Patch Land, which has only remained independent because its food and resources can't be used by anyone else. Apparently they were undergoing a civil war at the time. Whatever happened is unclear, but afterward Patch Land became much, much harder to bully.

About the only faction to have any success in getting access to Pop Star's power is the Mirror World. Considering their nature as a dark reflection of the primary dimension it's natural that they should have their own match to whatever Pop Star has up its sleeves. And while this has started to help them perform better in their wars, it decidedly has NOT helped them in their attempts to rule Pop Star itself. Mirror World's own head, the Dark Mind, launched an Assault on the place via a Dimensional Mirror, and got soundly defeated by powers unknown. Since then the forces of the Mirror World have been (ironically) shattered. Those more faithful to their original leader have emphasized their studies of parallel magicks in desperate attempts to revive their Master. But there are also those who have been following a mysterious scarred swordsman, cold and cruel and powerful, who seems fixated on Pop Star for reasons he has yet to divulge. It doesn't seem like any of his efforts have yet borne fruit.

And so on it went until that conman Magolor took his turn... And succeeded. Sort of.

The Lor had no interest in Pop Star. It was much too far out of their territory, and with their powerful equipment and technology they had very little reason to try and claim a planet that didn't seem worth the risk. But the rogue Magolor, who upon closer inspection has a much more mysterious past than one would assume, had no such qualms for seeking after power. He put his sights on the Master Crown of Halcandra, a device crafted by the ancients and wielded by the Halcandran dragon Lamia for its own purposes. Soon, a Starcutter was seen attacking the dragon and being rebuffed before opening a wormhole and vanishing... To Pop Star. Chasing after rumors he'd heard, of a power that could stop armies in their tracks.

Everyone expected that to be the end of the rogue Lor. His ship was damaged beyond repair, the rest of his kind unwilling to provide assistance to one who had long since left their number. If he had ended up on the doomworld of Pop Star then he probably ended up dead. Oh well, no skin off anyone else's nose. One tiny person is nothing on the cosmic scale.

But then Magolor came back. And whatever he brought with him, it was enough to take down Lamia and get him the Master Crown. For a brief moment, his Starcutter emanated with black and red. The dream of Lor arcane works amplified by Ancient magic became a reality. The ravaging beasts of Another Dimension, the Doomers, fled in fear. It seemed like the metaphysical was Magolor's to control, and that would lead to him beginning his own conquest.

But only for a moment.

Then the Starcutter fell again. The terrifying power of Soul was invoked from within the Crown, as the rogue Lor fought back against his unknown foe. It wasn't enough. The Master Crown was shattered. Magolor was flung across space. He was found alive (with a collection of some very mysterious apples) and interrogated as to what occurred. He just laughed.

"What's happening on Planet Pop Star? That's for me to know and you to find out!"

Then he escaped, headed back to Pop Star, and no one's heard from him since. But the fact remained: until he had become a threat to it, Magolor had managed to use the secret power of Pop Star to his own gain.

The war continued, and so did the assaults on Pop Star in the background. The Haltmann Works Company had made the next serious attempt other than Mirror World's usual obsession. The HWC's nigh-endless supply of Robobot ranks and their complex mechanization technology had made them quite a force to be reckoned with, but Haltmann had always wanted more power. His exact reasons for doing so are up to debate, and now the only one around to confirm or deny anything is that nefarious secretary of his. As the magnificent Access Ark descended on Pop Star, everyone briefly paused in what they were doing with bated breath.

It all happened so fast. Haltmann was betrayed. The computer system he'd designed, a massive Star Dream OS hooked up to a NOVA and capable of mimicking Soul, proceeded to act in his stead, and declared its desire to perform genocide of all organic life. But first it had to deal with the forces of Pop Star. From what remains of Star Dream's activity logs, it summoned a failed recreation of Dark Matter first. When that failed, it then pulled out a recreation of something more local. The Kingdom of Floralia had largely been ignored due to its location in the Atmosphere of Pop Star, but from Star Dream's data it apparently launched its own assault at the planet's surface with the Assistance of Mirror World, and failed. It makes sense that an incomplete clone of the Queen Sectonia would be no more capable than the original.

So then Star Dream did something monumentally stupid and yanked the Galacta Knight out of his prison. Galacta Knight cut the supercomputer in half, forcing it to reboot and use its Soul OS to remain functional. EVERYONE panicked. Galacta Knight was loose.

And then the angelic being was soundly defeated by unknown forces, returned to his crystal cage, and abruptly tossed back through the portal from whence he came.

Apparently not even the Strongest Warrior in the Galaxy was enough.

Star Dream then attacked on its own, and the results were much the same of the previous NOVA to be a threat to Pop Star. It got soundly defeated, its core shattered. The last few readings collected by its scanners express bafflement and confusion at the forces assaulting it. Its last readings show genuine fear at a seemingly infinite power. "Conclusion: This doesn't look good" indeed.

The message was largely received. Don't send NOVAs to Planet Pop Star. Apparently it eats them.

Everyone other than the still-fixated Mirror World kind of decided to leave Planet Pop Star alone after that. Whatever resides there seemed to be staying local, so as long as no one poked it everything should be able to proceed normally. All those who desired to claim a semblance of sanity would stick to their own business and keep fighting their wars far away from Gamble Galaxy.

Unfortunately, the Officiant of Doom for the Jamba Cult, a madman known as Hyness, cannot be referred to as sane in the slightest. So the Cult set up shop in Gamble Galaxy and promptly decided now would be a good time to try and resurrect Void Termina. Nobody was fond of this. The dead god was among those that everyone would much prefer stayed dead. Void had ties to just about everything: Ancient magic, Lor arcane powers, the Galacta Knight, the primal matters... You name it, Void Termina was connected to it somehow, and the Jamba Cult had decided to mess around with it.

The ritual failed, and the fragments of it were scattered across the galaxy. And quite a few of them landed on Pop Star. In a desperate attempt to repair the ritual and perform it correctly, the Cult launched a Jambastion, a flying fortress larger than a moon, and landed it on Pop Star.

It promptly got ransacked. The Cultists there self-destructed the place in an effort to stop the forces of Pop Star, but it wasn't enough. The sleeping bear had been poked.

Against all odds and to the horror of the rest of the universe, the Jamba Cult successfully gathered enough fragments to recreate the ritual and this time succeeded. The massive form of the god of Destruction towered over the nearby planets.

Then that towering form crumpled to the ground, its monstrous form torn apart from the inside out. Its core, the Astral Birth, was expelled and blasted with an unknown light of extreme power. It was official: the mystery of Pop Star had joined the ranks of those who would be called Godslayers.

Those factions who could be referred to as "reasonable" or "rational" desperately hoped that would be the end of it. The Doomers of Another Dimension were briefly alarmed for reasons unknown, but aside from that everyone kept a wide berth from Pop Star.

Nobody expected Lab Discovera, of all people, to be next on the chopping block. Especially since they'd already been all but destroyed, split into subsidiaries and subsequently eradicated. The Haltmann Works Company had not been friendly to those they viewed as competition. The planet the company was based upon had been struck to ruin, its laboratories empty and its forgotten lands populated by a pack of beasts. The only thing left of Discovera was their bizarre tourist attraction, half of a powerful psionic demigod kept in chemically-induced slumber.

Everyone was caught off guard when Fecto Elfilis awoke and regained its full power. Everyone was even more surprised when it immediately decided to tear open a portal to Pop Star and to try and force the two planets to collide.

Everyone thought that was the end of Pop Star. The Roche Limit had been breached, collision was inevitable. Everyone had been so focused on their own war that they never expected someone to just up and try and destroy Pop Star directly. Ultimately, the universe could do nothing but watch. Either Fecto Elfilis would succeed and become yet another cosmic force that would join the war and need to be dealt with, or Pop Star would somehow inexplicably survive again and another item would be added to the list of "reasons we don't touch Gamble Galaxy with a thousand light-year long pole".

The latter happened. Fecto Elfilis was eradicated, the portal closed. But that still left the question of why it had chosen to attack Pop Star in the first place. Fecto had not been aware of Pop Star. They had been slumbering, only barely aware enough to view the Forgotten Land through the eyes of the beasts. Had they picked a planet at random or... Had they been provoked? Had the beings of Pop Star somehow ventured to the Forgotten Land and attacked them?

This idea, that Pop Star was now well and truly aware of the greater cosmos and starting to take steps, has struck fear into all. The factions have been fighting for millennia. Their desperate scrambling to obtain more power and resources than everyone else has been the centerpiece of the lives of all for as long as any can remember. The idea of someone coming out of nowhere and WINNING had never been considered. And yet now it could be possible.

There were rumors of course. Rumors of what Pop Star's true power could be. Rumors of a King with an army unlike any seen before. Rumors of Knights dressed in blue and working with deadly efficiency. Rumors of the long-dead Star Warriors returning from the grave, and rumors that the Warriors' enemy, the Nightmare, was the force truly behind it.

For a brief moment, everyone thought the puzzle was solved when the Butterfly was sighted. Morpho, the lurking god, had gone unseen for a time, but a being as powerful as it could theoretically be responsible... But no. The Butterfly was not COMING from Pop Star. It was FLEEING from Pop Star. Morpho's name was added to the list of those who had tried and failed to take Pop Star under their control. And the universe was filled with even more terror.

So now all the factions have reached the conclusion to wait. They wage their wars in their respective corners of reality and they wait. They accumulate even more territory, even more resources, even more power, and they wait. They wait to find out who is next to have a go at solving the mystery. They wait for the names of their opponents to be added to the list, ideally before theirs. And they wait to determine the one who bears a name.

The Name.

The Name that has been tied to nearly every rumor out there. The Name sighted only once in Star Dream's files. The Name that made Daroach of the Squeak Squad chuckle, The Name that made the shadowy swordsman of Mirror World scream in rage, The Name that the Fairies refuse to comment on.

No one knows what The Name means. No one knows if it is truly the source of Pop Star's power. No one knows why The Name invokes the thought of the color pink. No one knows if The Name is even true.

But The Name is one that nobody will utter, not even in a whisper. For they fear that should they say it, The Name will echo, will drift across the Cosmos like a Spring Breeze. They fear The Name will be heard, and the slumbering giant will be provoked, and bring its wrath down upon them.

The Name

K I R B Y

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

#kirby #cosmic horror #kirby dark matter #kirby dreamland 3 #kirby 64 #kirby series #kirby return to dreamland #kirby planet robobot #kirby star allies #kirby forgotten lands #magolor #fecto elfilis #morpho knight #star dream #kirby & the amazing mirror #can you tell i was really tired when i wrote this #idk how to tag this

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writtenonreceipts · 3 months ago

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-Seven: Single Parent @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Story Masterlist

Story is hidden on Ao3 for the time being, but can't resist sharing for today's prompt.

Warnings: None, ~3.5k words

Summary: After a flashback disrupts Rowan's progress in town, Aelin and Meiri spend the day at the park.

.*.*.*.*.

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Nine

Rowan didn’t return to the house that night.

Aelin tried to not let it bother her. Tried to assure herself that everything was alright and she hadn’t somehow insulted him. Not that she cared of course. He could do whatever he wanted. He wasn’t a prisoner nor did he owe her an explanation.

But after Aelin had picked up Meiri from Nehemia’s, she hadn’t seen any sign of Rowan’s truck in town. And then once Meiri was in bed--Rowan still hadn’t returned.

She didn’t know why she cared. Or maybe it was unease and a cold shift of distrust. She remembered nights when Arobyn would come back late and she had no idea what mood he’d be in. It usually wasn’t the best mood and often led to fights.

Which was why Aelin shouldn’t let herself care about Rowan. Because he didn’t need it. He didn’t need her nagging him or worrying. He probably loathed it anyway.

When morning came and there was still know sign of him, Aelin told herself not to worry. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d just gotten tired of being in Terrasen and decided to leave, break all the promises he’d made and not look back. She wouldn’t judge him. At least…she’d try not to.

With the day off from work, Aelin was determined to spend it all with Meiri. It had been a while since they’d had a mother-daughter day so the extra time would be nice.

As Aelin made oatmeal and cut up some banana’s Meiri pattered into the kitchen with her princess blanket over her shoulders. She climbed into one of the kitchen chairs that creaked beneath her before glancing around.

“Where’s Rowan? He’s gonna miss breakfast!”

Aelin hid her wince as she turned to grab the milk from the fridge. “He’s helping Uncle Malakai, remember?”

“He never misses breakfast, though,” Meiri pointed out.

She looked up at Aelin with her big blue and gold eyes looking so expectant that Aelin decided she hated Rowan Whitethorn.

“He just needed to get an early start,” Aelin said, pouring a cup of milk for Meiri.

Hopefully that would be the end of it. Aelin had no desire to lie for Rowan. Especially not like this. She’d never really had a reason to lie to her daughter. Even when it came to talking about her father, Meiri accepted the small half-truths given. And she still didn’t ask about him a lot. But it felt different where Rowan was concerned. Especially because she hadn’t wanted this. She hadn’t wanted another man in her life that would just let her and Meiri down again. Yet somehow he’d carved a place in their home.

Irritated over that reaction, Aelin returned to the kitchen table with the milk and the oatmeal.

“Are you excited about our day today?” she asked, eager to distract Meiri. “We can go see Marion and then go to the park.”

It was still August which meant they had a few weeks until the school year started in early September. Aelin wanted to make sure they used their summer up in the best possible ways while the weather was still good.

“Yeah!” Meiri said excitedly. “Do you think they fixed the big blue slide? It’s my favorite.”

A few high schoolers had thought it would be fun to disconnect a few pieces of playground equipment last week which left a lot of the park unusable. Aelin didn’t know if the kids had been caught but she did know that Chaol had a whole slew of community service activities ready for when they were found.

“I hope so,” Aelin said. The parks department also had a nearly nonexistent budget and a lot of things were slipping through the cracks, especially when everyone was so concerned about seeing the county fair be successful.

Meiri attacked her oatmeal with gusto before taking her dishes to the sink. She dashed upstairs to get ready for the day while Aelin finished her own breakfast.

Her phone remained quiet on the table before her. All it would take was one text to Rowan and she knew she’d feel a little better. But what would she even say?

Hey just making sure you didn’t abandon us. Or if you did that’s fine just wanna check and see.

Because that was normal.

All he was doing was crashing at her place until he was ready to move on. Nothing else. Just the way it was meant to be.

Aelin shot off a text to Marion letting her know of their plans before she got up and made sure the dishes were washed before heading upstairs to get ready for the day herself.

…

With a pile of books between them, Aelin pulled into the small parking lot for the park. It was another beautiful day in Terrasen with the bright sun and scant clouds in the sky. Aelin would take these days for as long as she could get them. Not just the heat of the day, but times where Meiri was bouncing with excitement and chattering on about how much she loved her books and which one she wanted to read first.

Aelin smiled to herself as she got out of the car--Meiri already unbuckled herself and was rapidly piling books in her arms. As Aelin gathered the old picnic blanket from the trunk as well as her own book, she made sure Meiri was keeping to the grass and nearby area of the park.

They’d never had trouble here, nor in the town for that matter, but Aelin wouldn’t take her chances. Even after nearly six years without a sign of Arobynn--Aelin knew she’d always be looking over her shoulder.

“Rowan!” Meiri yelled suddenly.

Aelin’s head snapped up, glancing around the park. Sure enough, there was the familiar head of silver hair in the mulch of the playground. His giant toolbox was at his feet and he had a battery hand drill in hand as he carefully maneuvered the big blue slide into place. His truck sat in the far corner of the lot, somehow staying hidden beneath the large oak tree on that side of the park.

Hearing his name, Rowan froze before looking around and finding Meiri running towards him.

“You missed breakfast!” Meiri shouted as she ran closer.

Rowan said something that Aelin missed and she couldn’t see his face given the slant of the sun. He wouldn’t say anything bad would he? There was an obvious reason he’d avoided returning to the house--maybe it had something to do her or Meiri or--

Meiri let out a squealing laugh. Rowan had handed her the large drill and knelt before her as he showed her how it worked. It reminded Aelin of when her father had made her a small trophy case for all of her medals and awards for playing the piano. Rhoe had constructed a small case for her and showed her the wood and tools he’d use and consulted her in what color to paint it and everything. As far as Aelin knew, it was still sitting in her old bedroom. Unless her parents had tried to move on. It had been seven years since the last time Arobynn let her talk to them after all. She was twenty-six, her birthday a few weeks ago. They’d move on by now, wouldn’t they?

Meiri laughed again as the empty drill bit whorled.

Aelin collected her book and blanket and the small cooler packed full of snacks. She didn’t bother locking the car, knowing they’d stay within eyesight of it. She went over to where she and Meiri usually camped out, beneath the long spindly branches of a maple tree, and set things down before walking over to the playset.

Meiri had given back the drill and watched in rapt attention as Rowan drilled in a bolt. He set the drill down and gave the slide a hefty shove. It remained in place.

“Wow!” Meiri said. “You did it! Momma, Rowan fixed the slide.”

Aelin couldn’t help but smile at how pleased Meiri was over the new development. Already, Meiri hedged closer to the ladder that would take her to the top of the slide.

“He did, didn’t he?” Aelin glanced at the man in question, brow raised.

Rowan just shrugged. “I ran into Chaol this morning and he mentioned it, thought I’d have a look. It should be good to go.”

He pushed on the slide again. Even when it didn’t budge, he didn’t seem convinced that it would remain fixed.

“Can I play, Momma?” Meiri asked. She tugged on Aelin’s hand all while looking back at the playground.

If Rowan’s relentless shoves weren’t going to get the slide to move, Aelin figured he’d repaired it better than it had been when first installed. So Aelin ruffled her daughter’s hair and urged her on.

“Have fun.”

Meiri launched onto the playground, scrambling around the ladders and steps.

Rowan shifted almost imperceptibly and Aelin could have sworn a small caution was on his lips before he clamped up entirely and only watched Meiri continue to play.

“She’ll be fine,” Aelin said, “you probably made the slide immovable even in an earthquake.”

He didn’t say anything until Meiri launched herself down the slide, squealing the entire way. When she reached the bottom of the slide, Meiri ran straight back to the ladder and to the top. Completely unharmed if rather static-y.

“Right,” Rowan said. Shaking his head, he knelt down and gathered his tools.

Aelin almost asked him about where he’d been last night and this morning, but it didn’t matter, did it? Prying would say more about her than it did him. And if him leaving was going to get any easier it would do well to distance herself now.

So, Aelin stepped back to where she’d left the blanket, book, and cooler. She smoothed everything out and settled into an easy reading position where she could see the entire playground and watch as Meiri dashed between slide, swing, and monkey bars.

It was an otherwise quiet day with the occasional bird chirping overhead. This park was on the far west side of town and, honestly, no one really liked it. It was often empty and easy to get parking. Which was also why Aelin preferred it.

Maybe that was why she was so surprised when Rowan came to stand at the edge of the blanket, still looking out over the playground.

Aelin looked up at him. There standing beneath the maple, he was covered from the sun and she could see the stubble growing again and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. And Aelin knew what that kind of tired did. It was bone weary to the point that you simply had to embrace it and live with it and hope that something, somehow, would keep you going and going and going.

“Did you tell Luca about Emrys?” Rowan asked.

Aelin set her book aside. “Yeah, I swung by Chaol’s place this morning. He was really excited.”

“He gonna help you with the party?”

“Only by making food suggestions,” Aelin said.

A small smile flashed across Rowan’s otherwise harsh features. Even that bit of softness was fascinating.

“Though,” Aelin added, “I think we’ll just do it as the diner. I don’t want their house getting too crowded and my place…well. The diner’s more local anyways and I know a lot of people will want to be there.”

Slowly, so slowly and without looking at her, Rowan lowered himself to the ground. He stayed off the blanket, didn’t even touch the worn edges. It took him a minute to settle there, legs stretched out before him, frown back in place. Aelin wondered how long it had been since he’d truly taken time to himself to just exist.

“I was going to leave,” Rowan finally admitted. He picked at a thick blade of grass and carefully began ripping it lengthwise into small strips, hardly looking at it and instead watching as Meiri latched onto a sliding pole and went careening at almost concerning speed. “But I’m already enough of a bastard--I only made it a few miles out before pulling over. Slept out there too.”

Aelin vaguely remembered the messages she’d seen on his phone. Someone was expecting him in California and others too were still trying to reach out to him in one form of friendship or another.

She wondered if it had anything to do with that--that he’d finally broke and chose to fulfill whatever duty still on his ledger. She almost told him as such. That he could just leave. That no one would blame him or begrudge him that.

“I should have told you what I was planning, or that I was--” Rowan cut himself off, lips pressed together.

They stayed like that for several minutes. Aelin figured it would do well to let him proceed as he wanted. Prying into someone’s life had never worked out well for her in the past. But Rowan seemed to be measuring his words, carefully considering them instead of holding back entirely.

Rowan let the pieces of grass fall from his fingers before he spoke. “There was an accident last night that Chaol mentioned where a kid had…the kid died.” He looked at her, straight on and direct and Aelin had a feeling she would not like where this story ended. “And all I could think about was when I let this kid, only a year younger than me, I let him scout out a building we were watching. And he was always wanting to do something, always wanting to be busy and be active y’know?”

His gaze fell back to his hands. “I could have stopped it if I’d actually thought about what was happening.”

Aelin felt her stomach twist in knots, felt the cold brush of the reality of what Rowan had experienced. He continued to stare at his hands and Aelin wondered what those hands had done. Had they held his friend's hand? Has he tried to staunch the bleeding? Had he found who was responsible?

Arobynn had never told her what training was like, only that he was in charge. He’d never told her about his deployments, only that he was in charge. He’d never told her anything, only acted on his own pain. And when that happened it was always upon her. She knew well how to be silent. She knew well how to listen and carefully craft a response even if it never was spoken aloud.

But Rowan, Rowan was different.

Wasn’t he?

“I never made it back for the funeral, but his mom sent me letters after,” Rowan continued. “I tried apologizing, tried telling her I did everything I could. Tried telling her it was my fault. And she only sent me pictures of the family garden and told me that Danny had wanted to give her something before he left. So he started that garden for her and she’d been keeping it on ever since.”

“How long has it been?” Aelin whispered.

“Six years.”

So it wasn’t what drove him back stateside. That would be another painful story.

Once Aelin would have pulled out the beer and the vodka that Arobynn told her were only for special occasions. She would have kept pouring glasses while trying to fix dinner. She’d never touch until he would put her on her knees and tell her to distract him. She always did what she was told back then and never anything more because if she ever did something she wasn’t supposed to…well…there was a reason she told Yrene to delete her file at the hospital after Meiri was born.

But now, Aelin wanted so desperately to reach out to Rowan. She herself would want even the simplest of touches. Even a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on.

“Do you still get pictures of the garden?” Aelin asked, unsure what else to say.

On the playground, Meiri had begun collecting rocks to stack against each other in a sort of cairn.

“Yeah,” Rowan said, “the tomatoes always do well. Danny’s sister even got married in the yard with all these sprawling plants in every picture.”

He smiled, barely, at that.

“I’ve never been able to grow anything,” Aelin mused. She paused and gestured to Meiri. “Except that.”

Meiri chose that exact moment to screech and kick all the rocks she’d collected in varying directions.

“You’re doing a good job at it,” Rowan said.

Aelin returned her attention to him. He was back to watching her with that guarded expression he wore so well.

“Well, I’m running out of ways to cut her pancakes so a revolution may be on our hands.” Aelin settled back on her elbows, letting the warm summer breeze cool her sweaty skin. She had a few water bottles at the ready and would call Meiri back soon to make sure she was getting enough to drink.

“Dragons and aliens?” Rowan suggested.

“Done and done. Poorly.” Aelin grinned. “I am a failure of a mother for that, according to Meiri. No amount of syrup was enough to save it. Emrys is better at pancakes than me.”

Rowan shook his head, running a hand over his mouth as he tried and failed to hide his amusement.

“Your daughter can be a bit brutal,” he said.

“Well, she has to get it from somewhere.” Aelin called Meiri over and handed her a water bottle and snack.

Meiri took the items before trotting over to sit on the edge of the slide. Apparently a grasshopper had been sticking close to the area and she wanted to try and catch it.

“So,” Aelin said, “why California?”

He’d never exactly explained that choice and Aelin was admittedly curious about it.

Rowan shifted and stretched one leg out before him, the other bent so he could rest his elbow in his knee.

“Well, I’d just got back from Kovac,” he said, “and didn’t have anything holding me in New York.”

The words were slow as Rowan took his time to explain. Aelin almost told him to forget it, that it really wasn’t her business, but he continued before she could.

“One of my squad mates is in California right now,” he continued. “After…after my last tour. Well. I’d never gone on a road trip before, so why not now?”

He was leaving things out, not that Aelin could blame him. There was something heavy in his voice and the way his shoulders slumped just a little.

“My squad mate was injured, pretty bad, and we’d all said we’d meet up when we were all out. So I started driving.”

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Aelin said.

“It got me to go to Kentucky,” Rowan admitted, “it’s where Danny was from.”

He paused, lost in thought. A look of regret flashed over his face. She knew that look. It wasn’t one of exact misery but it was painful nonetheless.

“He told me to go hike Mammoth Cave, that it would be the best thing to do to make me feel alive,” Rowan added. “That and go to the county fair his town always hosted. It wasn’t fair season, so I ended up hiking most of the day, got lost a few times and eventually made it back. Then I had to find the nearest store to find these dumb little pink candies that taste like chalk, but it was a tradition his family had.”

“That sounds like a good day,” Aelin said.

He smiled, barely. “It was. It was supposed to be the entire squad. We were all supposed to go out and do that one thing for him. But…well. Things happen.”

Aelin didn’t know if that meant everyone else was dead but him or they’d all just drifted apart after they returned. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know.

And then before she could stop herself, she spoke. “I left my boyfriend, or fiancé, technically he just gave me the ring and told me to put it on. He wasn’t…he wasn’t a good person.”

“Aelin,” Rowan spoke softly. He reached across the distance between them, fingers barely skirting the back of her hand.

“He doesn’t know about Meiri,” she said, smiling as Meiri stuffed the last bite of sandwich into her mouth with all the elegance of a five year old. “She’s everything to me.”

Rowan wrapped his fingers around hers, giving them a tight squeeze. It was enough. For just that afternoon, Aelin would let herself be comforted. It was the most information she’d ever shared about herself with someone that wasn’t Marion or Nehemia. She hadn’t even told Emrys or Malakai about her past, though she had a feeling they both had a close enough idea to what she was running from.

But for now, Aelin let herself accept Rowan’s comfort.

For now, she let herself imagine that everything was going to be alright.

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowan x aelin #wwb wwg #where weve been where were going #throne of glass

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romana-after-dark · 5 months ago

Text

Room's on Fire: Exile

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: The cracks start showing

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Some gore.... i think that's it? Pretty standard terribleness.

4.8k words

a/n: shorted song quote in a while lol This goes out to Alicia who always is drawing parallels between characters. Even if I didn't do it on purpose tee hee

a/n 2: please take note of my update on my writing here

"Second, third, and hundredth chances, balancing on breaking branches, Those eyes add insult to injury. I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending." ~Exile, Taylor Swift Ft. Bon Iver

When you wake up, you see Jonah’s head on the pillow next to you, bloody and nose caved in, eye bulging but looking directly at you. You feel hands around your waist.

You scream.

When Frankie and Will finally calm you down, you were coming down from another attack, his arms around your body rightly like the day in the meadow, Will’s hands on your face even though Frankie said you didn’t need that right now.

“He’s dead.” Santi’s voice breaks your frozen state, making you jolt and turn to the right where he stood. His arms were crossed, as were his legs as he leaned against the desk.

Frankie felt your gasping chest again. “Santi, not now.”

The changes in Frankie recently were obvious… there was something different in his eyes. You found yourself clinging to him after every new disaster, his face being the guidance you need in these trying times… Until this morning when you woke up beside him, In Ben’s arms, and instead of his face you saw Jonah.

“No…” You whisper. “No he can’t be dead.” Your eyes begin to well up with tears again at the though of him being gone. He can’t be dead, you need him, you need him still. “He can’t… he can’t leave me…” Your face is already turned to the floor where you sat, but you can sense Pope’s displeasured face.

“What are you talk about?”

Angered, you shout, surprising everyone. “HE CAN”T LEAVE ME! I NEED HIM!” Your legs kick a bit like you are throwing a tantrum, but you simply can’t control your feelings.

Pope’s short legs stride over despite a warning call from Will still knelt near you. He ignores it. “Were you fucking him?”

“NO!”

Frankie’s grasp on you grows tight again, trying to prevent another melt down.

Pope bends over. “WHY WERE YOU GOING TO MEET HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DRESSED LIKE THIS!” He grabs your nightgown roughly, the material yanking on your still pain skin and you scream.

“SANTI KNOCK IT OFF!” Will shoves him out of the way, giving his husband a stern look.

You begin to rock yourself, gritting teeth as you reply. “Because other clothes hurt my skin now, SANTIAGO!” You shout his real name, the sound foreign on your lips… the room lay silent as you watched the realization that you have forgone the honorific, something that might have pleased everyone in the early days… But this was not the blissful first month of your marriage. This was not a time where he wanted you comfortable, where there was an illusion that the 5 of you could leave peacefully, you as their center, not tearing each other apart with the 5 of you fighting for affection of each other. You swear you can see him put his mask on.

Face softening, you flinch when he kneels down beside you, cupping your face in his hands with a soft smile. You are reminded of the day you met him, the day he told you that you were perfect.

‘From now on, as long as you are what we need you to be, whatever you need, you’ll have.’

You were everything he needed you to be. You carried the savior. That was the condition, wasn’t it? Get pregnant? But the goalpost had been moved now. Remembering the burning, you think his threat

‘If that baby comes out with blonde hair, we’re going to have a problem.’

How could this be the same man? How could the man who seconds ago screamed at your and pulled at your sensitive skin be the same who gently knelt beside you, holding your face like he did in your first kiss.

“It’s going to be okay, love. You’re safe now, no harm will come to you. I will protect you.”

But it was different now. You realize he never protected you. Ever. Will killed Jonah for you. Will took the bullet for you. Will bathed you and healed you and massaged you. Santiago didn’t do shit.

But your body hurt, your skin aching in a reminder of what he could do to you. So you nod, tears filling your eyes. “Thank you, my husband. I just… I wish to sleep now. I’m tired.”

Seemingly buying it, he stands. “Frank, leave her be.” The gestures to the others to leave.

“Oh, uh… can Francisco stay?” You begin to sit up, off of him.

He narrowed his eyes. “I supposed. Just until you fall asleep. He’s needing to bless the water.”

Iris would have to clean the kitchen of Jonah’s blood… a cleaning ritual would have to take place with the water. Jonah couldn’t be burned alive, which is good because you doubted Iris would dance as he did. You couldn’t bear it if whatver you did to tempt Jonah resulted in her death too.

Getting into bed, Francisco goes to take his usual place in your arms, but you pull back when he reached for you.

“Sorry, sorry…” You are quick with an apology when his face crumbles. “I just… I need company. Not touch.”

He nods, looking guilty as he climbs under the blankets. “I’m so, so sorry Madonna… I never thought Jonah could do this… never thought he was the kind to… to…”

But you shake your head. “I don’t wanna talk about this, Francisco.” But after a beat, still, you ask. “Was that you that held me last night? You and Rey… you smell the same.”

“It was me. I don’t… I don’t think any of the guards should be touching you after this. Especially Rey.” You agree. Despite not wanting touch, you reach out your hand. You fall asleep to him rubbing his thumb over the top, feeling the mangled skin.

“Benjamin…” Frankie holds his lover, one leg hitched up against the pants Ben was trying to pull down. Francisco was always bottomless, his pants stripped away the moment they made it into Ben’s room. “Benjamin we can’t do this… she needs us…”

“We’ll be quick.” Shucking off his pants with little kicks of his leg that make Frankie smile against the younger man’s skin, Ben grips Frankie’s broad shoulders, wraps his legs around his thighs and forces them both to roll over. Francisco is always considerably impressed by his strength, always finds it hard to reconcile him with the starving boy that was found so long ago. Ben rasps, ordering Frankie where he wanted to go with such dominance, such self assuredness… “Ride me”

Guilt tightens his chest when he thinks about Madonna, how sometimes he wishes she’d take charge more… but then he remembers what the pay off is. Unlike Santi, he doesn’t have to worry about you hurting him. Unlike Ben, he knows you aren’t fucking the entire community.

His thoughts of you are pushed back when he sinks down on Ben’s cock, the long member driving right up to his prostate when Frankie’s ass hits Ben’s firm thighs. He was so different now, so capable, so strong… He wasn’t like this when he was young. No, back then, he needed Will for everything, refused to leave his side for a while… Frankie wasn’t sure who it was that found the Millers, but Jonah brought them into the mansion during a blizzard, said he found the orphans in a shitty lean-to that had caved in. The ruckous of Jonah's billowing entry has drawn Santi and Frankie downstairs where Beatriz was telling him they couldn’t stay. Jonah insisted that he’d take them to the boys dormitory in the morning, but that it was too cold to go outside again.

Will has frostbite from giving his warm clothes to Ben in hopes he’d survive. Ben was emaciated. They never did find out what was wrong with him as a child, why he was so much thinner than Will who’d give him so much more of the rare food… but even after becoming permanent members of the Garcia family, for years Ben didn’t put on weight. Then in his teens, he beefed up and became who everyone knows him as now.

“Just like that… fuck, fuck thats good Frankie…” Ben praised him, so vocal as he always was, feeding him what he needed in these moments. Frankie was aware his body was different than how the others looked, that the weight in his 30’s packed on more around his stomach, but he when he was with you, when he was with Ben, hell even when he was with Santi and Will he didn’t care. The validation he got from feeling needed, feeling desired was enough for him.

Ben thrust up into him, making Frankie cry out louder than he should, and Ben yanked him down to his level to swollow his sounds of pleasure with a kiss. And fuck, could Ben kiss. With every roll of his hips and slide of his tongue, Frankie’s eyes rolled back into his head. Nothing else mattered but Benjamin.

Ben was only 4 when he was brought to the house, Will was 8, Frankie and Santi were 9, but Santi was almost 10. When Beatriz approached the boys huddled in each others arms, she stared for a while. They were helpless and small, and while Beatriz was a lot of things, something probably tugged at her heart. Ben gazed up at her like she was the savior herself, like all her bullshit about godhood was true. He never doubted her for a second, firmly obeying every order, explicit or implicit. That loyalty extended to Santi, and he never, ever betrayed him…. Except with Frankie.

Tugging at Ben’s hair, Frankie humped against Ben’s body as they kissed, fucking himself on his dick and seeing stars. He loved Ben so fucking much it hurt sometimes, and it was near unbearable, it burned him from the inside out and crushed his chest but they could never, ever be together. Not with Santi.

It didn’t start out like this. Of course not, not with the age. Ben was his little brother, someone he loved as such and whose company he enjoyed. Ben and Will never left the house in the morning, Beatriz taking them in. She had her reasons of course. She said Will showed immense courage taking care of Ben after being orphaned, that the self sacrifice he showed was that of a healer's nature. Will became the God of healing and war. Duality. Ben was always full of smiles, even as a starving child. “Mi sol”, as Beatriz called him. He was the sun god.

For a long time, the four of them remained as brothers. Homosexuality wasn’t discouraged, perse… but it wasn’t encouraged. Men and women were needed to pair up to birth children. When things began to bubble up between him and Santi, Beatriz set him up with Iris. For a long time, Francisco thought something was wrong with him for not wanting Iris the way he did Santi. It wasn’t her fault; clearly she was stunning to look at, and the… activities… they had gotten up to that went beyond kissing proved that he WAS attracted to her. But nothing felt like Santi… not until Ben.

Francisco had seen Ben at the orgies they used to have, and for a long time he simply had sense of protection over him. He was too young, and Frankie worried when he reached 19, the age Frankie had been, that Beatriz would touch him too… he thought that was it.

Then suddenly Beatriz was dead, and everything changed.

Jonah was almost killed for being found fucking Delilah who had participated in the coup. Marcus was burned to death and their future wife was burned to dance, a trauma that gives her a glassy stare for a moment every time she smells smoke. Iris was forced into servitude at the house to pay for Jonah’s sins and the engagement was, of course, called off by Santi. A vacuum had been created, power sucked in and Santiago tried to take her place.

With the chaos, Ben and Franscisco simply… fell into each other, and suddenly what he had with Santi pales in comparison.

With a fistful of hair in his hand, Ben pulled Frankie off his mouth, admiring his kiss-swollen lips as he pants. “Gotta be quite, Frankie. Gonna get you off, but you gotta be quiet. Can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

Unable to speak, Frankie simply nodded. He sat up, bouncing on his cock as Ben jerked him off. Their eyes locked together, Francisco was lost in the sky of blue in his eyes, a cloudy sky his sun god resided in.

Cum flies out of him in strong spurts onto Bens chest, cumming hard as Ben filled his asshole with his spend. Rain fell from those skies he felt burning into him, and he fell over to kiss them away. A soft smile. A gentle touch. A warm hand in his hair and body on fire. The warmth of the sun blessed him.

“Baby’s hungry.” You mutter on the couch, sitting on the oppiset side as Ben strummed his guitar.

Francisco smiled. “Oh, it’s the baby, is it?”

“Yeah.” You nudge him with your foot. “Baby says enchilada’s sound great.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen then. I got you.”

Ben lights up, looking away from plucking at the chords. “Oh shit, you’re making enchiada’s? FUCK yeah!”

“Noooo, I don’t wanna get up, can’t you make them?”

This makes Francisco frown. “I wanna stay near you, Madonna.”

“She doesn’t wanna see Iris.” Ben points out your fears, and Francisco’s shoulders drop.

“I let her take some time off… We’re on our own for a few days… It’s okay.”

It felt wrong being in Iris’s domain without her, watching Frankie go through her cupboards, her fridge, her pantry… Jonah was dead and it was her fault. Now both of you are orphans… How could you explain to her that you could have never meant for this to happen? That you loved him like a father, that you felt lost without him here…

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Ben’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, making you turn to him as Francisco busied himself with the food. “Jonah will fuck anything that walks. Asshole practically raised us, then slept with Delilah.”

“Ben, I don’t really wanna-”

“Man, I used to see him at the parties, he’d bury his head in any cunt he could get his hands on-”

Your brow furrows at that. “What parties?”

“Ben!” Francisco calls. “Come help me with this.”

The men whisper argue to each other at the counter, indiscriminate words grating at your ears as you try to make sense of Ben’s words.

That’s when she walked in, trailing behind her was Reyansh.

The door opens, Iris stopping in her tracks. Her eyes were clearly red and puffy but the tears had clearly been wiped away, trying to appear indifferent. It wasn’t working. You scramble to stand, knowing you have to face her, face the consequences.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could get out.

Iris’s face crumbles. “Honey…”

The sound of Jonah’s nickname for you from his daughter's lips shatters something in your heart, and you feel your lip quiver and eyes burn. “I’m so sorry…”

She takes a step forward, speaking softer to you than you ever heard before. “What on earth are you apologizing for…”

“It’s my fault! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You shout, and Ben places himself between you and Iris protectively, trying to usher you out of the room but you stay firm. “I should’ve seen the signs! I shouldn’t have been sneaking out of my room! I shouldn’t have gone unguarded!” Rey are vaguely aware of Rey behind Iris, of Francisco and Ben trying to talk to you but you couldn’t pay attention to that. The moment existed between two women whose fathers couldn’t be what they wanted, in whatever way that meant. Two women who were left abandoned. Two women who understood each other in a way the others couldn’t, no matter how much love was there. “I ruin everything I touch!” Sobbing, you shout ‘I’m sorry’ again and again and again.

Your knees buckle, and you hear Francisco shout your name as arms wrap around you, saving you and your baby from a fall. Then, Iris is knelt in front of you, hands on either side of your head and pulling you to look at her. Her voice is firm, steady and sure as it always is but an air of empathy that didn’t exist before. You understood each other now. When you eyes meet hers, eyes like a sturdy oak and just as unwavering, she spoke her words repeatedly.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

And suddenly, her voice mattered than Santiago’s.

“It’s okay to miss him.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Madonna-” Francisco’s hand reached for you, but you jolted back and away from him with wide eyes. “Sorry… Can I tuck you in?”

You scoot into bed. “Just… don’t touch me…”

He nods as you lay down, pulling the blanket over you and laying it nicely around you, careful not to touch your body or pull anything against your skin.

“Do you… do you want to be alone?”

He watches you think for a minute. You’d been through a lot, Jonah’s attack leaving you… not yourself. Usually when things happened; the burning, the shooting, etc, you craved closeness from your husbands, but after this… You were so far from him, all the time.

“I… I don’t want to have sex, is that okay?”

His heart crumbles at your question, quickly sitting on the bed but far enough not to scare you. “Oh my god, Madonna… that’s always okay…and I would never, ever expect that from you after something like this…” Still, you didn’t meet his eyes… just silently crying as you had been all day. He watched a tear drip over the bridge of your nose while you lay on your side. He sighs. “When Beatriz first… when she first touched me, I felt sick, honestly. She said it was a divine union or whatever… but she was my mom. To me, anyway. I didn’t… I didn’t want that to happen.

“The she died and I thought… you know I thought I’d be relieved. God knows I’ve thought about it enough… But I didn’t. I cried for weeks, felt lost, directionless… there was nowhere to put my anger, my sadness…” That’s when he fell into Ben. “There was… I guess I remember being confused. I didn’t understand how someone I loved could hurt me… and why I still loved someone who could do that…”

You choke back a sob, and when he sees your hand reach out, smooth and soft compared to the other, he takes it. “I don’t understand why Jonah would do that to me… But… I’m also angry at him… not for…” You swallow hard. “but for leaving me. Jonah always knew what to do, what to say… he helped me figure this whole thing out… I feel violated but… also abandoned… If he had stopped, I never would have told anyone.” Shame swallows you as you get more and more intimate. “I don’t think I would have told anyone if he was successful, Francisco. If he didn’t start punching the wall, I wouldn’t have screamed! I such a fucking idiot! I just didn’t want him to die!”

Resisting the urge to hold you is difficult, knowing you have to be the one to make that move. You have to be the one to express it… Still, he lies down beside you. “Madonna, you lost your dad at a young age and you spent 10 years alone with no friends, no family, no love… It makes sense why you’d want to cling to any connection you have. He took care of you, you didn’t want to let go of feeling loved. Lord knows I’ve forgiven worse for the same.”

You turn into him, your face settling on your chest as you cried yourself to sleep.

His heart ached for you, panges pulsing through his body and he clung to you, holding you steady so you could let go. He would be your rock. He would pull it together, be the man you and his baby needed…

You were so precious when you slept, your body trusting him to keep you safe,to keep you wrapped up in love and adoration. He felt so, so horrible for what happened to you, that you were hurt so badly by someone you trusted… He was probably as shocked as you were when he found out why Will was beating Jonah bloody and why you were catatonic on the floor. Jonah, of all fucking people knew what it was like to have your body violated… It angered Frankie in a way he rarely felt.

Usually his emotions were pushed down, shoved away so he could be whatever Santi needed him to be. A stress toy, a cock, a hole, an emotional sounding board. His needs and wants didn’t matter much more than they did with Beatriz, but at least Santi was protective of him, showed affection without needing reward. Still, Frankie couldn’t be himself, so often… but today, as his sleeping girl breathed heavily on his chest, her face still on shirt in a pool of her tears, he let himself feel. He’d be better for her, he’d do better. He’d stay and protect-

The door opens. “Santi wants you.”

When you wake with Ben next to you, you’re heart sinks. Not because of Ben, no, never. He was a sweetheart, your sunshine, your joy. Seconds later, his sweet sleeping face makes you smile. You like the floppy chunk of dirty blonde hair that always tickles his face when he sleeps. No, you’re sad because you miss Francisco. Nightmares woke you up again, but Ben was out like a light. It was warm in the bed, Ben always ran hot and you felt like you were melting, even in your nighty. You always chose this one no, it was flouncy enough to allow room for your belly but the material didn’t irritate your burns that were still recovering.

You think of how many members of Delta saw you naked, the scars and wondered if Santiago wanted you humiliated or not. You wonder if he knew what Divine Mother did to Francisco… Your mind reeled with questions, like what this meant for you. If the God you worshiped so clearly abused your beautiful husband, could she truly be good? You couldn’t imagine kneeling to say your prayers now, knowing she made him feel the way Jonah did to you. And then you realize you can’t stomach kneeling to Santiago either.

It’s too hot. It’s too muggy. The sheet felt wrong and you needed to get out of this room.

When the door opens, you expect to find Reyansh sleeping, but his eyes were open this time. He wore a small, sleepy smirk on his face. “Somehow, I knew you’d still find a reason to sneak out.” He had a busted open lip.

You smile back, quietly closing the door behind you. Really, you knew after Jonah you shouldn’t be around men who aren’t your husbands in skimpy nightgowns but… it was Rey. You trusted him and yeah, you trusted Jonah too but… If Rey betrayed you, there was nothing left to trust.

He stands, letting you sit in his chair and he takes a seat up against the wall next to you, despite your protests.

“Rey? Do you… pray?”

He gives a soft chuckle, resting his head on the chair. “No, I don’t. Call me a heathen. Or a heretic. Or a blasphemer? I’m not entirely sure the difference.”

“I don’t know either, honestly. I just… I’m starting to think Divine Mother wasn’t… good.”

Rey lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank fucking god, girl. No, she wasn’t.” He looks up at you, those big brown eyes framed by the curls falling around his face. He was beautiful, truly. Shame he wasn’t a god, he’d be a good one. “Beatriz Garcia is a piece of shit who sexually abused multiple young men- boys, really. She had hundred of people put to death, and she is not God, none of this is real, she’s a crazy woman who-”

“Wait.” You shake your head, frowning hard. “No, of course she’s a god. How else would Santiago, Francisco, Ben and Will be gods?”

The light in his eyes fades, and he looks sad. “Sorry, sorry. RIght. Why don’t… why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking…”

You’re curious about his reaction, but too tired to think on it further. You settle into your chair more. “I’m thinking if she’s not a good god, maybe she’s a bad one? Or a demon? I don’t know… I don’t really have anyone to talk theology with…”

Reyansh pats your leg. “You’ll figure it out, I trust you. You’re smarter than they give you credit for. You know that, right? That you’re more than just a womb?”

You laugh a little. “Well, yeah, but that's not really important, is it? My job isn’t to be smart, it’s to have the savior.”

He sighs. “You’re so much more… and yes, that is important. Just know, you matter after you give birth, okay?”

“Rey, I-”

“Just say it, please?” He sounded desperate, so much more serious than you knew him. Your eyes droop closed.

“Okay. I matter after I give birth. I know that.”

“Good. And I’m gonna be here for you, always.”

“I know.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll watch out for us.”

When Ben woke up, he was worried when he didn’t see you in the bed. Santi had sent him to go get Frankie, but not before filling his ass with cum, ensuring Ben couldn’t have a quickie with Frankie. Did he know? Did he know Ben was fucking he most favored lover? Everyone with eyes knew Santi loved Frankie more than anything on this planet, only Madonna was too stupid to figure it out. He liked her that way, though.

Ben loved Frankie with a burning passion. It was an ache that was never satiated unless they were skin to skin, unless he was buried inside him or fingers interlaced with his. No one compared to Frankie, no one made him smile, no one made him laugh, no one eased that pain buried inside him that blinded his rationale like Frankie did. Frankie knew him in a way no one could.

When he was brought to the mansion, Ben remembered two things. Will’s arms refusing to let go until Beatriz insisted, and Frankie, watching from a corner. He was so quite that day, but the way he hovered… the way he watched with curious eyes wherever they were taken, sometimes whispering to Santi. Ben had no idea these two would become closer to him than his own brother. The chill of the winter he almost froze to death in rattles in his bones to this day. Maybe that’s why his body over-compensates, why the sun bows to him. Maybe it’s his anger at the sun for hiding as the winter nearly took his life, took his family’s.

Years later, another storm would leave a child orphaned, a little baby girl. She’d be found huddled up in her parents arms as they froze to death, the last of their body heat sustaining the child until Jonah and Marcus found her. Instead of taking her to the mansion, she was brought to Marcus. Ben wondered what might have happened if she’d been brought there like he was.

Will never relinquished his grip on him, not for the next multiple decades. At first, it was endearing, the protective nature… but then it became grating, an irritant. Will prevented him from exploring his true self, his power, the things he could do… Beatriz said he was jealous, that Will liked having Ben to take care of, to control, tha the shift in the dynamic would make him try to hold on tighter and she was right. When Ben insisted he was ready to participate in the orgies, Will tried to stop him, argued with Beatriz about it and tried to get Jonah to intervene. Jonah tried, but who gave a shit what he had to say? He was a consort at best. WIll never let Ben do anything fun, anything enriching, always tried to keep him out of the activities of the other gods. He was selfish.

When he realized Madonna was not in her bathroom, he stood up quickly to find her. Francisco had been summoned by Santi, making Ben in charge of Madonna and if something happened to her, he was taking a beating for sure. Santi has Beatriz's temper, although Ben never received that end from either of them. He was as loyal as they came, did exactly as both wanted… save for his affair with Frankie.

But then Ben opened the door and he found you, asleep on the chair… with that shithead guard sleeping with his head resting on your leg.

I loved the reactions to the last chapter LMFAOOOOO everyone feeling v betrayed by jonah ;-;

AS YOU SHOULD

milder chapter, more world building focused than anything tbh learning more about ben and frankie, how will and ben came to be in beatriz's "care" if you call it that.

Thank you all for the continued support! we are getting close to the end! Ima try and finish either If You wanna Be wild (javi p x reader/oc x santi) next chapter or he finale for blessed be the fruit (joel x reader) then 4 or maybe 5 chapters. depends. the last chapters seems like a lot to squeeze in there. ANYWAY

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

LOVE YOU ALL!

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acescorazon · 1 year ago

Text

Changes Ch 7

Title: Changes

Chapter: 7/?

Rating: M

Word count: 2228

Chapter excerpt: He’s on his way back to his main tent when he hears the sounds of yelling and swords clashing not too far from him. And it’s not terribly unusual to hear that sort of thing around the island, his men often train and they’re a rowdy bunch in general, but today they seem especially loud. He chuckles, wondering what his kids have gotten themselves into this time before he curiously heads towards all the commotion. The closer he gets, the louder the sounds of fighting get, and he soon catches the sight of a rather tall and familiar figure, one with an elegant black hat and giant, intimidating sword in his hands, battling his children!!

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|

That emergency meeting left them in a weird place…A really, really weird place.

Buggy forces himself to break the seemingly endless loop he’s stuck in at long last, realizing that he can’t keep up with his sick act any longer. He resumes his daily responsibilities not long after that, but things are a little strange now… Crocodile has stopped calling for meetings altogether and has pretty much barricaded himself in the meeting room. Perhaps he hasn’t called for another meeting because he can’t stand being alone in a room with Buggy? It has to be something like that. Buggy isn’t sure why, but he also called off his little travel plans to Prickly Pear Island for the time being, but Buggy can only assume it’s because of Hawkeye.

Hawkeye himself hasn’t spoken about Cross Guild or his status within the group, in fact, he hasn’t even shown his face to Buggy in days, not that Buggy’s complaining about it…it’s just weird. Buggy wasn’t completely sure what Crocodile meant when he said that it’d just be the two of them in Cross Guild from now on, but now he thinks he gets it. Buggy would assume Mihawk just took off or vanished in thin air if his men didn’t repeatedly tell him that they’ve seen Mihawk taking naps in various strange locations around the island.

He’s on his way back to his main tent when he hears the sounds of yelling and swords clashing not too far from him. And it’s not terribly unusual to hear that sort of thing around the island, his men often train and they’re a rowdy bunch in general, but today they seem especially loud. He chuckles, wondering what his kids have gotten themselves into this time before he curiously heads towards all the commotion. The closer he gets, the louder the sounds of fighting get, and he soon catches the sight of a rather tall and familiar figure, one with an elegant black hat and giant, intimidating sword in his hands, battling his children!!

The only word to describe Buggy’s feelings at that moment is panic. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Buggy thinks as he watches a sea of his men surround Mihawk and attack him with swords drawn high in the air; sometimes they attack one at a time, sometimes they attack in pairs, or in teams of more than five, but it doesn’t matter, none of Buggy’s men can take Mihawk down. Buggy can’t even begin to imagine why all of this is happening…Did they piss Mihawk off somehow? Did Mihawk insult them again? Are they finally standing up for Buggy? If that’s the case, Buggy didn’t want this! He didn’t ask for this! He doesn’t know what’s going on but, this has to stop, someone’s going to get hurt…

And it’s not going to be Mihawk.

Losing even one member of his crew scares him a hundred times more than the thought of being beaten by Mihawk (though that still scares him a hell of a lot.) So, Buggy takes a deep breath before making a rather easy decision.

“Wait!” Buggy shouts, rushing over to all the commotion and squeezing his way through a crowd of his own men, “Wait, wait, wait!” he immediately orders his men to back away from Mihawk, who in return tilt their heads in confusion. Oh, why are they just standing there and looking at him like he’s goofy?! They need to get out of here and fast! “Wait, Hawkeye, I'm not sure what my men did to you, but please spare them …” He pleads, and now tears are beginning to form in his eyes. He doesn’t want his men to die. Can’t they work this out?! Why does Mihawk always resort to violence first and ask questions last?

Mihawk raises an eyebrow at him, looking rather amused for a second before finally replying, “These men are in no danger.” Huh, he’s not upset? Then why… Why is everyone attacking him? Why is he attacking them back? What’s with the swords?! “We are simply in the middle of training.” He informs him, and Buggy’s panicked brain takes a minute to process Hawkeye’s nonchalant words. Training… Training… They’re in the middle of training…

Wait, What?

Quite naturally, Buggy was so concerned about his crew, that he didn’t stop and think about the possibility that this was some sort of training… But, why would Mihawk be training his men…? He hates them as much as he hates Buggy, right? He thinks they’re all useless and annoying, right? So why is he…? Is this some plot? Is he secretly trying to kill off Buggy’s children? What. Is. This?

Buggy’s men all start chuckling around him, and he feels embarrassed for a moment. His face begins to burn as he continues to look around, confused. He feels like anyone’s normal reaction to seeing Mihawk draw his sword would be to panic and think he’s on the verge of attacking with the intent of killing someone … But this really isn’t what that is? This is really just some training? No ulterior motives or anything? …Just training? Buggy feels stupid now. “Uh, training,” Buggy repeats,” This isn’t a real fight… you’re just training my men…?” he asks, glancing over at Mihawk, whom he jumped in front of moments earlier to block his men from attacking.

Mihawk nods his head, still looking rather amused by Buggy’s bravery, “Correct.” He simply replies.

Ah…What another rather strange turn of events.

Why the hell are you training my men all of a sudden? is what he wants to ask, but he doesn’t. Instead, Buggy chuckles, looking around at his men and Mihawk one last time, “Ah, yes, of course…Carry on.” He mutters and then acts like he didn’t just make a complete fool of himself. He can hear his men continuing to chuckle as he makes his retreat, but they don’t say anything mean, just:

“Chairman Buggy sure is protective of us!”

“Did you see the way he jumped in front of Hawkeye?!”

“Yeah, he was ready to fight him!”

“Chairman Buggy is the coolest!”

For the record, Buggy is protective of his children, but he wasn’t ready to fight Mihawk, he was ready to beg for mercy and take a beating for his childrens’ sake, but the kids don’t have to know all that…

His men start to speak highly of Mihawk after that, often telling Buggy how Mihawk is so kind and strong, and Buggy wonders if they’re referring to a different Dracule Mihawk because Mihawk is anything but that… Mihawk is coldhearted and cruel, and wouldn’t hesitate to destroy someone’s life or pride. Still, his men insist that he’s a really good guy, and that just adds to Buggy’s confusion. Day after day, Buggy’s men come to him after a hard day of training and continue to speak praises about Mihawk:

“Hawkeye said we’re getting better today!”

“Hawkeye only scolded us three times today!!!”

“Hawkeye smiled at our jokes today!! No, seriously!!”

“Today nobody got stabbed!!!”

“Mihawk is really nice once you get to know him!!!”

The random turn of events makes Buggy dizzy, and he finds himself unable to believe that Mihawk is really being kind to his children and simply training them after all he’s said about them. So, Buggy winds up watching their practices occasionally, keeping a close eye on Hawkeye and ready to intervene in case he hurts one of Buggy’s beloved men… But, he’s surprisingly gentle with them? Sure, they typically end practices all battered and bruised, but considering they’ve been fighting with someone who’s literally the world’s strongest swordsman, Buggy thinks that their injuries could and should be worse than a couple of scratches and scrapes.

It’s after one practice session in particular that Buggy’s curiosity gets the best of him. He inadvertently locks eyes with Hawkeye, and Mihawk actually gives him a gentle smile. Buggy, as usual these days, feels absolutely baffled after Mihawk smiles at him. He does this occasionally during training sessions with Buggy’s men, sometimes he’ll nod his head at Buggy or smile at him, or give him a small wave to greet him when he first shows up. When Mihawk tries to be nice to Buggy, it’s just so weird… He still doesn’t get it. What's changed? Or if this is all an act, what’s the fucking point?!

Buggy debates whether he should call Mihawk over or not, hating the idea of talking to him, but also wanting to know why he’s suddenly being all weird. And, in the end, his curiosity wins. “Hey, can I speak to you…?” Buggy asks, as he slowly approaches Mihawk, cautious not to do something or say something that might make Mihawk go back to his normal cold-hearted self. “Why did you…uh, why did you decide to start training my men?” He asks, and then a moment later adds, “You said they’re all worthless and that you’d get rid of them if it were up to you.” Mihawk takes a moment to think about his question before, replying slowly, “That I did…” He admits, and then he sighs, “But, I was honestly wrong about them too. They’re not useless, they just needed some good training, I'm actually really surprised by them.” Huh? Really? Does he really mean that? “Your crew is actually a very talented bunch.” He’s not lying, right? Buggy’s eyes brighten for a moment before he realizes where he’s at and who he’s talking to.

“Really?” Buggy asks, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Do you really mean that?”

Mihawk nods, “I do. And now that I think about it, I feel bad that I didn't ask you for your permission to train them first.” Oh, well… That’s okay, Buggy just wishes he knew Mihawk was just training them earlier, you know, before he jumped into the middle of one of their training sessions that one time and made himself look like a giant nerd for being overly protective of his crew. “So, for that, I am sorry.” Another apology? Seriously, what’s gotten into him? Is he concussed? Does he have a bout of amnesia?

Buggy takes a step back, feeling unsure if he should ask his next question or not, afraid that Mihawk might take it the wrong way, and then all of a sudden lunge at him. “No offense…but why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden…it’s weird.” He mutters that last part unintentionally, and quickly apologizes for it because he really doesn’t want to get his ass beat.

Mihawk doesn’t look offended in the slightest though, “I thought about what you said the other night… and I genuinely started to regret the way I've been treating you. You’re absolutely right, you’re a human being and you shouldn’t be treated the way I've been treating you, so again, I would like to apologize to you.”

Huh…?

“I truly regret my previous actions, and I swear on my blade that I will never treat you that way again.”

…Seriously? After all this, Buggy still doesn’t know how to feel… He still doesn’t know if he can believe Mihawk or take his apology as genuine. What if Buggy messes up and makes Mihawk really mad, and then he goes back to being cruel to him again? If he forgives him…Then all of this would have been for nothing, and Buggy would feel so... So, stupid. Wait, wait…Why would he ever forgive Mihawk?! He hates him… He’ll never forgive him. He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven, Buggy doesn’t know why he even considered the thought in the first place.

“Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know if I can accept your apology…” Buggy murmurs a moment later, and he waits for Mihawk to get angry and yell at him, for him to reveal that he was just lying, and show his true colors… But he doesn’t.

“Take your time, Buggy.” Mihawk assures him with a soft voice, “But i want you to know i’m being serious right now, and that i really want us to have dinner and talk things out, even if it’s just you and i for right now because Crocodile is being a stubborn old fool and refuses to see that he’s in the wrong.”

Yeesh, there’s that dinner invite again…It honestly seemed like a stupid idea before but…

Would it really hurt to give him one chance…? He knows that he said he wouldn’t. He knows that he said he didn’t want to accept his apology and be his friend after everything that they’ve been through, but, honestly, after seeing how Mihawk treats Buggy’s kids…After seeing a gentler side of him and getting yet another apology, Buggy wonders if maybe he should give Mihawk just one chance. Is that stupid? Is he being too trusting? Is he being too forgiving after all that’s happened between them…?

Well, he doesn’t know…But, if Mihawk starts acting too weird or Buggy feels like things are just too awkward between the two, then he can just… leave their dinner, right? He’s not obligated to stay with him for long or even go to dinner in the first place… But still... The idea of being all alone with Mihawk is…

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll put Yoru away for dinner.”

#one piece #cross guild #changes

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abysswalkersknight · 1 year ago

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Got some more Bat Lilia!!!!! this was inspired by @llondonfog's post and watching videos of bats eating fruits in their little fluffy burritos, for some reason they always look angry while eating but in the cutest way possible.

Anyways it may be a bit muddled but hopefully still good, enjoy!

--------------------------

Oh, look how far you have fallen, laments Lilia Vanrouge as he struggles in his cosy confines, above him the puny human child giggles and once again offers him the banana he benignantly refused earlier (squeaking vulgar insults and curses that the child obviously couldn’t understand) ‘now, now Mr Bat you can’t heal on an empty stomach.’ The silver haired baby chided him, lightly tapping him on the nose, if I were not trapped in this meagre form child I swear I'll… a loud growl echoed throughout the room, Lilia's aggressive squeaks quickly simpered when he realised that the sound came from his own stomach, why stomach? Why?

He was a feared general. Both humans and fae tremble at the mere mention of his name, all he’d need to do is glare at a man to have him crumbling to his knees mewling apologies and begging for his life. Yet here he is, trapped in bat form, bunched up in a fluffy pink wrap and being fed to by this bubbling human brat. And none, none of his intimidation tactics were working on his caretaker, instead of cowering like he was meant to, the child simply giggles and continues trying to feed him that wretched yellow, mushy stuff!

‘Get that away from me you lowly being!’ he squeaked angrily, flapping his wings in an attempt to free them from his prison of fluff.

The boy could have poisoned the fruit! He probably knows what he is and is trying to take him out while he's injured and trapped in this form! In his brutal fight with the blanket Lilia hadn't noticed the fruit coming closer until the moment he flung his head around and had his mouth stuffed with an excessive amount of banana 'see, isn't it good?' The child chirped, happily watching as Lilia struggled with his mouthful of mushy fruit.

As he packed the banana in his cheeks to chew better Lilia absently thought back to the time Malenor challenged him to see how many rats he could stuff in his mouth (three so far) even though the banana was much softer his jaw still aches slightly as he chewed, curse this little brat, I…

oh wait.

He chewed a little slower, savouring the taste, this is actually pretty good. Give me more kid, give me more!

The child seemed to understand Lilia’s incessant squeaking as he gladly offered more fruit and was surprised with his new bat friend’s change in attitude. It had been rather cold and windy when Silver ventured outside after a terrible storm had passed the night before, as usual his uncle had left him home alone so all he could do was check up on all his animal friends to make sure they had made it out of the storm safe. It was then the little boy came upon a strange looking bat, drenched and thoroughly conked out. Poor Silver nearly had a heart attack when he saw streaks of red on the bat but on further inspection the red seemed to be some weird type of dye or something. After carefully wrapping the injured bat in his cloak, Silver hurried back home to the cabin in the middle of the woods where he and his uncle lived. Once again his uncle wasn't home so no one was there to see Silver crash through the door and rush up the stairs toward his room, surprisingly the bat hadn't stirred at all during all the bumping around. Which brings them three days to now, where Lilia had suddenly woken up in his pink prison, weird stuff on his wing and having fruit shoved in his face. At least he now realises that banana tastes good.

A week passes and now Lilia’s wing is all better, he could’ve flown off and be back to Briar Valley by now (the boy called Silver had released him the morning he was healed) but something would always call him back the next day, and it wasn’t the bananas the boy somehow always had ready whenever Lilia decided to reveal himself, right now he was perched upside down on a branch right outside the boy’s window observing as Silver did his daily chores, his cheerful whistling echoes throughout the empty house which builds a sense of unease in the fae. Lilia doesn’t know much about humans but even then he could tell that Silver was quite young, about eight or nine, that’s far too young to leave a child alone for this long. Lilia’s seen the uncle return only once that whole week only for the brute leave just as quick as he came, not even giving a word of acknowledgement toward the sweet child, the fae may have been repulsed at the sight of children a few centuries ago but after raising the young prince he has discovered what wonders a child could bring, he had revelled in the knowledge that he had been granted the chance to care for Malenoa and Leven’s child and it disgusted him to see this lowly human disregard the little treasure before him, yes, Lilia will admit that he’s grown quite attached to the boy in the short time they’ve been together. Which is why his snout curls into a wicked grin as he sees Silver frown at the front door for the fifth time.

Soon his carefully planned scheme will soon come to light.

Afterall how could he just let his sweet, adorable saviour go without repaying him?

A few months later

‘Uh, general?’ Baul starts, unsure of how to phrase the sight before him.

‘Yes, Baul?’ Lilia breaks off a piece of banana to give to the tiny human resting in his lap before stuffing the rest of it in his mouth, he shoots his second in command a glare, throwing the peel in a growing pile and daring the fae to question him. Baul gulps.

‘Nevermind sir.’

#knight's writing #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #twst #bat lilia #honestly I was meant to post this awhile ago but distractions happened so I dug this out of all my drafts #I must hold a bat now after all those videos

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3-2-whump · 7 months ago

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Julio’s Reverie

TW/CW: blunt discussions about OCs' sex lives, one teeny tiny death threat, emotional angst. But don't let the TW scare you, this is mostly fluff!

Julio had been with many men and women throughout his twenty-six years of life, especially in the five years he has been boss of Juicio Divino, but everyone assumed he would be just as much a boss in the sheets as he was on the streets. And sure, mediocre sex was better than no sex –probably, he guessed –but of all the bedmates he’d had, none of them could scratch his itch –no, his desire– for total submission, to just let go of the mask and be himself for a few vulnerable, blissful minutes. No one had been able to scratch that itch since Izzy Bautista (may that bastard rest in peace.) And over the past five years, Julio had begun to accept that maybe nobody ever could.

Then, Khaled came, and Julio finally found someone who could fulfill that long-neglected desire.

The young man was basically a virgin, despite how frequently and brutally he’d been abused over the years; he hardly knew what his own desires were, much less how to satisfy them or his partner’s. In the beginning, Julio had to guide him a bit –as much as Khaled would comfortably allow him to, that is –until they could establish a rhythm and truly make some music together. But once they hit their stride, well… Julio wasn’t much for clichés, but fuck it, what he and Khaled had was magical.

“You’re not going easy on me now just so I’ll go easy on you later, are you?” Khaled asked with a cocky grin as he dodged a hit from his left.

He completely missed the sharp jab to his right side and doubled over in pain. Julio smirked. “What part of this looks like I’m going easy on you, bro? Nah, you’re actually getting good!” The block and dodge Khaled executed to counter his next attack only served to emphasize his point.

It became a little routine, eventually. Fight, then fuck, fight, then fuck. Fuck, then learn one more tragic little thing about his lover that fractured Julio’s breaking heart. Fuck, then spoon, Julio behind him because he learned Khaled didn’t like to look at him when he told him his secrets. Fight, then fuck, then cuddle, then send him on his way, as if nothing had ever happened, as if the gnawing guilt didn’t chew at his guts every time he sent him back to the one responsible for all those scars and bruises.

So, while Khaled was with him, he became a bit protective of the boy. Well, a little more than a bit, considering he nearly gutted Crackhead Juan for grabbing Khaled’s arm the other day.

“Hands off my bitch,” he growled, knife gleaming, lips curled downward into a snarl. “I will not ask you again!”

“Excuse me?” Khaled piped up.

With Crackhead Juan quickly scared away, all Julio had to deal with was an insulted boyfriend. He explained he had a reputation to uphold, that he didn’t mean it, and that Khaled could have the most epic apology blow job he could give if he was still unconvinced. Khaled took him up on that apology blowjob and came twice down Julio’s throat as they defiled the backseat of a client’s Rover. Since then, Julio openly flaunted his claim over the Costa Mafia’s fuck hole to whomever would be looking, but only the two of them knew what happened behind closed doors. And one of them still wanted more.

“I still can’t believe we’re carrying on like this, man,” Julio drawled. The half-unlocked handcuffs dangled from his wrist as he raised his hand to light a cigarette between his teeth.

“There’s nothing wrong with carrying on ‘like this’,” Khaled shrugged, propping himself onto one elbow as he reclined on his side on the bed. The rest of Juicio Divino had asked –no, begged –their boss to have sex anywhere but in the garage or within earshot of the rest of the gang, which meant the two had to get a bit creative with locations the last couple of trysts. A seedy hotel? Classic.

“Fight, then fuck, fight, then fuck –I’m having a great time, aren’t you?”

“But don’t you want more than this?” Julio asked genuinely. “Sometimes, do you ever…want more…for us?”

Khaled’s blush matched Julio’s, yet the younger man could not meet his eyes. “No,” he lied.

“Say it like you believe it, and maybe I’ll believe it too,” Julio scoffed, a puff of smoke escaping from his mouth. He sighed and set the cigarette down on the ashtray. “I don’t know what I’ve got to do to get Costa to release his hold on you-,”

“Short of prying me from his cold dead hands,” Khaled muttered.

“-but there must be something I can do, right?” he asked, gazing sincerely into those soft brown eyes.

Khaled’s eyes met his for only a moment before they shifted down to the crisp hotel sheets.

“Please, Khal, cariño, tell me how I can make you mine for real! If I gotta die for you, I’ll die for you, If I gotta kill for you, just tell me who I gotta kill, and if I gotta buy you from him myself, just tell me how much-”

Khaled ceased his rambling by gripping his stubbled face in both hands and melding their lips in a kiss. Julio froze, but started reciprocating his partner’s advances. Khaled wrestled him back onto the mattress and kissed down his neck and chest, pausing to look down at him. “The best thing you can do for me right now is to make the most out of the half hour of rental time we have left. Now, lay back and look pretty, beanpole,” he whispered.Julio opened his mouth as if he were about to say more, but the metallic click of the other cuff locking around his free wrist and binding his hands to the headboard signaled the end of the conversation. He ultimately shut up and gave Khaled exactly what he wanted. He would always give him exactly what he wanted.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

#whump writing #whumpee #caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #my ocs <3 #tw sex mention #it's a lot mentioned #tw death threats #it's like barely mentioned #fluff

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bethanydelleman · 2 years ago

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Unconsciously Done: An Examination of Misogyny in the Treatment of Caroline Bingley in Jane Austen Fan Fiction

This essay is not meant as an attack on any specific author who writes JAFF. It is a criticism of a trend that is very strong in the genre and I find extremely problematic.

It is my firm belief that Jane Austen felt deeply for the plight of women in her era and that her books examine the difficult decisions that women were forced to make because of their secondary position in society. Jane Austen presents women to us who have little power and whose only hope in future provision and comfort lies in the whims of men. Moreover, Jane Austen never in her collected works, asks us to delight in the downfall or destruction of a woman. Given this context, I find it highly distressing and untrue to Jane Austen’s legacy that so often in Jane Austen Fan Fiction (JAFF), authors invite readers to celebrate the degradation of Caroline Bingley. This is a repugnant practice that both goes against the intent of Jane Austen’s works and by attacking a woman in particular is an unconscious display of misogyny.

After the Netherfield Ball, where the Bennet family shocks Elizabeth, Darcy, and Caroline with their vulgar behaviour, Caroline and Darcy agree that it would be better for Charles, Caroline’s brother, not to marry into such a family. Together, they go to London and convince Charles to remain there, away from Jane. Caroline writes to Jane to inform her of this. Later, when Jane follows them to London, Caroline cuts off the friendship, which lasted, we should remember, for only a few weeks. She also works to conceal Jane’s presence in London from her brother. She is aided in this endeavour, again, by Mr. Darcy. Her final act of the book is attempting to embarrass Elizabeth in company at Pemberley and then insulting Elizabeth to Darcy in private.

For the purposes of this argument, I will first lay out what the original Caroline Bingley does in the novel Pride & Prejudice. Caroline dislikes the unmannered inhabitants of Hertfordshire, specifically the Bennet family, a sentiment she shares with Darcy. They make fun of the Bennets behind their backs together in the first section of the book, along with Caroline’s sister Louisa. When Jane Bennet is sick at Netherfield, Caroline is not as attentive to her as Jane’s sister would like, despite spending several hours with her multiple times.

It is important to note several things. Firstly, none of Caroline’s actions cause lasting harm to anyone. In the end, Jane and Charles do marry. Secondly, Caroline is drawn by Jane Austen as a social-climber who is not above using artifice to reach her goals, but her actions are entirely rational within that context. Every action that Caroline makes is a logical expression of her two motivations, a wish to marry Darcy and a wish to see her brother marry well. Thirdly, Caroline is aided in nearly everything she does by Darcy himself. One could speculate that without Darcy’s interference, Charles would have returned to Hertfordshire as he planned. Darcy’s own words imply this, “with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his own.” (P&P, Ch 35.)

The position of women in Georgian society is made clear through Jane Austen’s works. Women are dependent on their parents or guardians until they marry at which point they are dependent upon their husbands. There are only two acceptable options for women of the gentry, marriage or becoming a governess. When Charlotte Lucas submits to a marriage with Mr. Collins, we are told marriage was the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune (P&P, Ch 22). Jane Fairfax, in Emma, is so upset with her the profession of governess, that she compares it to slavery (V 2, Ch. 18). Jane Austen is clearly of the opinion that a woman should marry for affection rather than only for wealth, but she acknowledges how difficult this line is to draw when marriage is so vital to a woman's life. Caroline is set up as a representation of a mercenary worldview in Pride & Prejudice. Like many other Jane Austen women, Mary Crawford (Mansfield Park, specifically her early interest in Tom Bertram), Lucy Steele (S&S), and Charlotte Lucas (P&P) for example, Caroline is pursuing a man for wealth rather than love.

Lydia Bennet is another woman whom Jane Austen, in the social morays of the time, could have condemned and invited us to hate. In Mr. Collins letter we hear the morality that would delight in a woman’s downfall, “The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this.” (P&P Ch. 48). Yet again, the narrator does not invite us to treat Lydia with scorn. We are reminded of Mrs. and Mr. Bennet’s faulty parenting and that he ignored Elizabeth’s advice, we are reminded of the character of Wickham, and we are assured of Lydia’s future provision. Lydia will not fall into poverty because her two wealthy sisters will protect her. Her sisters do this despite the fact that they had the most to lose from her rash actions. This demonstrates an acknowledgement that all women, despite their faults, deserve to be protected.

It is important to note that while Jane Austen invites the reader to disapprove of these women who marry for money, she does not outright condemn them. Charlotte Lucas’s decision to marry Collins is explained with some compassion. The narrator notes that, “the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte’s dying an old maid” (P&P, Ch. 22) which again reminds us of the importance of marriage for a woman’s future provision. Maria Bertram (Mansfield Park), who married for money and then committed adultery for love and whose actions are clearly condemned, is still allowed compassion. The narrator mourns that Maria must suffer more than her male counterpart for the offence, "In this world the penalty is less equal than could be wished” (MP, Ch. 48) and Sir Thomas spends a good deal of time blaming himself for not raising his daughter properly, “here had been grievous mismanagement” (MP, Ch 48).

Unlikely as it is for Jane Austen to desire further punishment for Caroline, it is more improbable that she would wish for men to exact that retribution. We are told in the history of Eliza Brandon, (S&S) how much power a man can exert over a woman in their guardianship. Eliza is confined to the house and allowed no pleasures until she submits to a marriage to a man who will treat her with cruelty and steal her fortune. This action is despicable and is presented as such. Yet, many authors write Charles Bingley exerting this same sort of control over his sister, or at least threatening it. They wish for him to cut off her allowance and thus financially constrain her behaviour. They have Charles threaten to disown his sister, who in such stories is under his guardianship, or sometimes even give her money away. Not only is this unnecessary, as Charles already can control his sister’s behaviour to an extent as we see during the visit from Mrs. Bennet when he “forced his younger sister to be civil also” (P&P, Ch 9), it is cruel.

It is unlikely therefore, that Jane Austen meant for us to hate Caroline or take pleasure in her imagined downfall. In the original novel, the ‘punishment’ Caroline receives is equal to her actions, she must endure seeing Elizabeth Bennet raised to the position of mistress of Pemberley. It is the same thing that happens to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who like Caroline, wants Darcy to marry for wealth rather than affection.

More distressing are the words used by characters in works of JAFF, mostly by men who in Jane Austen’s original works treat women with respect, about how Charles might control this “deviant” sister. These terms are often far harsher than anything used for the correction of Lydia Bennet, whom we know to actually be unmannered and wild. Proposals that Charles, “bring Caroline to heel” are repugnant. Caroline is a human woman, not a dog. However one imagines speech in the Georgian era, these are not words used by Jane Austen. Suggestions that Charles cast her out of the family home or be obliged to lock her up, when not said in jest, are terrifying. In this society, these things could happen and would be catastrophic to Caroline.

Even the mere suggestion that Charles should control his sister’s speech in in a start contrast our exaltation of Elizabeth’s lively manner. Jane Austen allows us to find Mr. Collins distasteful for suggesting that Elizabeth controls her tongue, “and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite” (P&P Ch. 19). Yet, JAFF authors want Charles to do this to his own sister! Would it be in keeping with the morality of the creator of Elizabeth Bennet to have a man force a woman into silence? Jane Austen gave women voices and ideas in a time when that was counter-cultural, yet 21st century authors, most of them women, want to send Caroline back to the dark ages.

Some authors have this same abuse performed by a husband that Caroline unfortunately marries for money or through "compromise" (a common but likely ahistorical trope), only to find out he is cruel. There are stories that present this outcome as just instead of horrifying. Again, these are 21st century authors, relegating a 19th century woman to a cruel marriage in which she has few rights and little chance of honourable escape. Occasionally Caroline is married to Wickham, and instead of Elizabeth Bennet pitying the match, as she does for her sister Lydia, she often finds it funny or just. The idea that any woman deserves to be trapped in an abusive situation, or have her wealth stolen from her by a deceitful suitor, is again, repulsive.

The final degradation that Caroline faces is also the most troubling: authors repeatedly deprive Caroline of her rationality. Jane Austen’s Caroline is a rational creature, as are all the women that are depicted in her works. Good or bad, Jane Austen’s women are carefully rendered images of real life and they have motivations that guide their actions. Caroline’s two motives were discussed above and her actions are entirely rational based on her goals Even if we dislike Caroline’s reasoning and acts, we ought to respect her humanity. Unfortunately, many works on JAFF, in an effort to create a more villainous character, twist Caroline into an evil, insane, psychopathic version of herself, bent only on cruelty and hatred, without any clear goals.

As for authors who relegate Caroline to a life of perpetual dependence, Jane Austen herself only consigns a single woman to this fate, Miss Bates in Emma. Jane Austen treats Miss Bates with respect and kindness, creating a town around her that takes care of both her physical and emotional needs. Emma is admonished by Mr. Knightley for ridiculing Miss Bates before other members of the community. To Jane Austen, a woman in perpetual dependence should excite pity, not disgust or laughter. Miss Bates also is granted a voice and we, along with Emma, are encouraged to listen to her and respect her value as a person.

The reason that all of this is so disturbing and repugnant is because these words are written by modern authors, people who should understand how oppressive and wrong the subjugation of women was in the Georgian era. For those authors, many of them women, to attack a fellow woman with the very tools of the patriarchy that we have ourselves struggle to throw off and fight against is horrid. Jane Austen does not resort to these methods; Caroline Bingley is not bent under the power of her male guardians in Pride & Prejudice. The only woman who is, Eliza Brandon, is an example we are supposed to pity, not scorn.

Worse, Mr. Darcy himself is an active participant in almost every bad action of Caroline. Yet, while Darcy is forgiven completely, and often given excuses like shyness for his actions, Caroline is again and again vilified. It is a double standard of the worst kind and one that especially female authors should recognize as unfair and unjust. Yes, we do not see Caroline’s apology or reformation in Pride & Prejudice, but she is also not a main character. Many JAFF works almost seem to forget Darcy’s interference or rudeness towards Jane and the rest of the Bennet family. He is excused and Caroline is hated and destroyed.

Instead of a human with rational motives, JAFF authors imagine Caroline as a demon. Caroline becomes a playhouse mirror imagine of Elizabeth, who is often turned into a “Mary-Sue” or a picture of perfection. This Carrie-Sue (credit to Amelia Marie Logan, who coined the term) acts in a way that Caroline of Pride & Prejudice never would. Carrie-Sue attacks and insults people in public without motive, including her own brother; she continues to pursue Darcy after he is married; she continually attempts to “compromise” him; and she will do anything no matter the cost. She is a grotesque in the worst sense of the word and she is not of Jane Austen.

If there is one overall thesis of Jane Austen’s works, it is that women are rational creatures. Elizabeth Bennet and Sophia Croft (Persuasion) actually use that term explicitly, but every heroine in Jane Austen demonstrates this same theme. We see inside their heads and we understand their humanity. Even the women we are meant to despise display rationality. Fanny Dashwood of Sense & Sensibility for example, talks her husband out of giving money to his sisters because she is greedy. Lucy Steele lashes out against Elinor Dashwood because she is fearful of losing her one chance at financial security: Edward Ferrars. Mrs. Norris (Mansfield Park), probably the cruellest woman in Jane Austen’s works, abuses her niece because she cannot bear her own inferiority to the Bertram family. She relieves her own feelings of dependence by pushing her niece further below herself. All of the actions of these women are despicable, but they also follow cogent motivations.

This is especially problematic because it is almost always Caroline who faces this treatment. Wickham, a character who actually deserves the term “villain”, is allowed rational motives, most often lust, revenge, and greed. He is allowed to retain his humanity and his mind; it is a woman who is deprived of hers. As I have stated, I believe this is done without malice on the part of the authors, but I would ask them to reflect on every instance, for I know there have been many i their own lives, where another person has deprived them of their humanity based on their gender. It is a pervasive problem that persists in our modern society and we ought not perpetuate it in our works of fiction.

To conclude, Jane Austen does not delight in the destruction, humiliation, or subjugation of women. If we wish as JAFF authors, and as women, to honour Jane Austen’s legacy, then we should refrain from doing those very things and from depriving a woman of her rational mind. The treatment of Caroline Bingley in JAFF is a form of misogyny and as such it should be stopped. This is important because while Caroline Bingley is of course fictional, the representation of women in fiction can perpetuate stereotypes and prejudices in real life. Jane Austen wanted to tell the world, through her fiction, that women are humans worth listening to and worth respecting. Let us leave Carrie-Sue behind and allow Caroline Bingley to finally live in peace.

#caroline bingley #pride and prejudice #jane austen fan fiction #JAFF #people hating her only makes me want to defend her harder #women are rational creatures #even Caroline #even Lady Catherine #Jane austen never delights in a woman's destruction #not even Mrs. Norris is really punished that much #I call fanon Caroline a Screaming Bag of Evil #fictional women do matter #fiction can shape our biases over time and our expectations of how people act

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lukerycyja-reblogs · 1 year ago

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Isn't it lovely

I just made that, it's angsty.

I refuse to think that there were no humans after the war who wouldn't help omnics at all, like Cmon.

Anyways, have this.

TW: description of violence, wounds, main character death.

@ya-zz I tried but I have no idea how to write him, help ;-;

He remembered everything clearly since he awoke that faithful day. Since he gained sentience, each and every second was carefully catalogued and saved within his memory banks.

He was with other ravagers like him, traveling in a group, huddled together. After war ended, many of his brothers and sisters that were made for war were lost, wandering around like blind children. They were made for war, not to live. Many took their lives just as many were destroyed by humans. He understood them then to some extent. Yet he couldn't help, but feel fear and doubt.

He wanted to live. Just not this life that he was given, not in this body. He was ashamed. Unworthy of anything but pain.

Group of humans attacked him and his companions then. They didn't protect themselves in any way, just trying to leave. Ravagers were already marked as monsters, and none of them were willing to accept that title. So they took insults instead. After a few weeks, only few were left. Another human group approached them to destroy them as they were pitifully huddling together, trying to not appear threatening, covered in rags to mask their faces and builds.

And then, a lonely star on the night sky pierced through the thick clouds.

A human entered their view, standing between angry mob and their small group of omnics killing machines. She argued, that they didn't do anything. That they weren't dangerous, despite being an R-7000 model, that they were like newborns in the bodies of a soldier. Humans didn't seem to accept opinion of one of their own, and yet they hesitated. But his saviour did not flatter and stood her ground.

He remember looking at her, as her hair glowed in the sun, skin littered with scars and scabs looking silky smooth. As if she was an angel sent by the Iris itself. The promised Messiah that humans liked to talk so much about. She was... Lovely.

She helped him and four other ravagers, guiding them home and helping them fix their metal bodies. She gave them new clothes and treated them like normal people as they should have been treated.

There were many omnics living on her farm. They were willing to help that human for simple shelter and act like slaves again -she never forced them to help her-. But he understood them. He, at that time, was also willing to sacrifice everything for a place he could call home.

He spent there almost a year. Meny here were taught what it meant to be alive, to enjoy simple pleasures. Many learned how to knit and crochet to make their own clothes, or how to do usual human things. They took care of the garden, watching the flowers and bees, petting cats, learning about the miracle of life and about death and it's part in life. It was like a dream. Because of that, they started calling this place Eden. The garden of simple and sacred life.

He and others of his kind didn't leave the farm, since humans were still on edge with them. That didn't stop her however. She sat them down one day, all fifty seven of the omnics living there. She told them about their next safe place. The Shambali monastery, where omnics were allowed to live by themselves. She of course told them, that who wants can stay, but she advises them to consider moving away to a place, where all of them would be more safe. Away from hateful eyes and angry faces.

They didn't want to leave her, but her kind smile and happy eyes told them that it wouldn't be an end, but just the beginning. That they will stay in contact.

She payed for their plane, so all of them could leave and have a quick journey -so no one would hurt them if they travelled alone-. She was helping omnics from the whole country, eventually branching out outside of it. To help. Since they were worthy of living.

That's how he learned to appreciate humanity. That despite being scared, some of them were willing to help. That there were some brightly glowing stars out there.

He spent next year's of his life in the monastery, learning from master Mondatta. He also kept in touch with his first human friend, like the others did. At that time, he really thought that Omnics and humans could live together not now. Not in a long time.

He heard about organisations popping up that were helping omnics around the world. That humans were willing to live and help his kind -not for long-. However, for every good thing, hundred bad things happened. He saw how cruel humans truly are to his kind. And yet he held hope for them. After all, he met a human that told him that she doesn't care if he was made for war. She was still alive, doing whatever she could to help others like him. He visited her then, bitter after seeing his brothers and sisters needlessly slaughtered by an angry crowd. She helped, her words and actions bringing serenity to his soul. They started working together, to protect his kind. Always on the first lines, gathering those who didn't protect themselves and providing them with safe home. He still saw the glimmer of hope then.

Red. He saw this ugly shade of red, spilled across the concrete, creating beautifully horrifying art of suffering and broken dreams.

She was laying down, curled on top of sparkling omnic that was beaten, but still alive. He saw her once soft hair torn and stuck together, fee beautiful face disfigured and bloody. Cheeks growing pale and nails weakly scrapping the ground below, still alive yet not for long. He pushed through the crowd and held her, as if she would fall apart from his brutal touch.

She was broken, beyond saving. But she did that to protect his kind. He remembers her last moments too clearly.

"You look lovely Ram. I'm sorry I did stupid things again" she said between coughing and spitting blood.

He never felt anguish as much as he did in that moment.

"Help your brothers, okay? They need a strong older sibling like you" she smiled at him.

And then she was no more.

He returned to the monastery after that, spirit broken but, oh how brightly burning. He could not understand how humans could hurt their own, defenceless kind in the name of pride.

He didn't let the flames of anger cloud his judgement yet. He instead carefully remade it into unbreakable will. So he could continue to protect those who couldn't do it themselves.

Humans lives were lovely. But oh so cruel.

#ramattra #overwatch #ramattra x reader

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spopsalt · 6 months ago

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The Heart Part 2 vs Fear No Mort, a spop and Rick and Morty comparison!

Gotta be honest, didn't expect to make this post, I assumed that people would think they are too different to compare, but here we are! I will be comparing them based on the opening, emotional moments, the story, and the ending scene since that's the big moment for both of the episodes and the main thing people tend to focus on for these episodes. Then I'll give a general rating for them both, this will be a long post and different than usual, so please enjoy!

The opening

So with both of them I'll count the first 5 minutes as the opening, it's usually easier with Rick and Morty because it normally starts with a cold opening, but Fear No Mort doesn't have one. So I'll take the first 5 minutes of both of them

Ok let's rate the first 5 minutes on spop. There is a lot going on we see Catra protecting Adora because the plot told her to, then we see Glimmer somehow removing the chip from her dad which is...fine I guess? Then we see Bow with Scropia, none of these plot lines are all too interesting but I mean they work fine I guess. Could use a bit of explaining for how the chips get removed other than ✨️friendship✨️ yes I get it this is a kid's show, but still.

Sooo 1/10 for the opening

Ok now onto Fear No Mort, usually Rick and Morty episodes have a cold open but this one doesn't have one so I'll just use the first 5 minutes like how I did with spop, besides the blatant Denny's advertisement, it's not bad, it sets up the main plot very well and there's a few good jokes here, besides the incest joke at the beginning that we shall never speak of.

Sooo 9/10 for the opening! Very good at setting up the plot with some good jokes! Had to dock a point because capalitalism

The emotional moments

I had to rewatch the heart part 2 for this so I hate you just (I kid, I kid, I love y'all) Ok so the first emotional moment (Or it tries to be) is when Catra protects Adora from a monster that was attacking her, and like I said Catra is only protective when the plot demands it. And I...felt nothing. I literally did not feel bad at all. And pf course Catra can say hi to Adora, but can't apologize for leaving her on her deathbed when she literally was begging on her knees for her to stay. Cool cool cool. And then Glimmer removes the chip from her dad...somehow? It's unclear but whatever she did it worked. Also Micah insulting Glimmer seems like it's meant to be emotional but again I felt nothing because we never see how they normally interact so....their one hugs was nice though ig. Then we get Bow telling Scropia that Prime can't turn her into something she's not and that works? It's kinda dumb, then he does something with Entrapta maybe it said what it does in the previous episode but I'm not rewatching that <3 but yeah it removes everyone's chip and Scropia apologizes which is fine ig. Then Bow says they can't give up and for some reason prime's clones stop and let Bow finish his speech, I mean ig they're polite. And again I really don't feel anything at all. Shadow weavers death again I feel nothingggg. It was just such a lazy way to end her arc. I mean I guess I feel some sympathy for Adora because while Shadow Weaver was a horrible abusive influence on her life, she was still like a mother to her. Catra saying she's not going to leave Adora again, I do not care. Like she already left mutiple times even when Adora was ON HER KNEES BEGGING HER TO STAY. I can't feel anything here if Catra does apologize for that. Ok so they try to make you think Adora is going to die, but that's dumb because this is a KID'S SHOW! They won't just kill off their main protagonist! What are they? Amphibia? No! You know they won't do it so it doesn't make you feel anything. Also Catra is trying to encourage Adora to stay alive, and that's the only good thing she did here. Even then I can't feel sad when Catra has been abusive towards Adora, I just don't care. They also make you think Entrapta is going to die but we know nothing is going to happen so I could care less. They already did a fake out with Entrapta. Catra and Adora kiss and AHHHH MY EYES "I love you! I always have!" Uh-huh I'm sure you always did when you were abusing her.

0/10 for the emotional moments, it's trying way too hard

Even though it was hole Rick, we get a really cute scene of Hole Rick confiding in Diane saying "You're the only thing I can't replace " which uhmmm breaks my fucking heart? Yeah I really shouldn't feel bad for Rick buttttt I do. We also get a speech about happiness being a trap, which is honestly sad, it says "Happiness is a trap, it can't last forever, let's say you meet the love of your life, well it's still going to end, it's inevitable! Whether by the slow pull of a disease of the shock of loose footing on a hiking trail, whether it be the correasion of two personalities that reshape each other until they're incapable, or maybe it's the old stranger at the bar that says the things that need to be said to that person, that night." Yeah maybe it lears a bit into being edgy, but it still hurts. Also Morty puts his life on the line to save Hole Rick because he's codependent and believes that his worst fear is Rick dying, but it's even sadder than that. Just you wait we'll get into that scene soon. And look at the ending scene section for the last emotional moment.

9/10 might seem a little edgy at times, but still has a lot of great emotional moments that really hit

The story

It's...fine I guess? I mean the pacing is all messed up but I mean there's no glaring plotholes, and besides the god awful kiss scene it's...decent? Huh, how about that. Even though friendship getting the chip off some of the chipped characters is dumb.

3/10 for the story, it's fine, but can be dumb at parts

Its good, we get a lot of Morty which is great since he was servery underused in this season and it's great to see his trauma actually get some attention, so very VERY good story! The premise itself is very interesting as well and they use it to it's full potential

9/10, the pacing is a little slow at times, but it does a GREAT job with the story and use all of its potential

The ending scene

Meh, it just shows how everything is happy now, I mean yay! A happy ending! But it's just boring. But whatever

2/10 for the ending, again besides the kiss and romanticizing abuse, it's boring

It's so fucking good I can't give it justice with just words, just watch it and you'll see what I mean

spop remember to take notes! This is how you show someone feeling like they don't matter to someone else, it makes sense that Morty would fear that BECAUSE of Rick's consistent emotional abuse, and it's still heartbreaking because you KNOW Rick does care in his own way but you can't blame Morty for feeling that way. It's just an incredible scene

10/10 just speaks for itself if I'm being honest

Overall ranking:

The heart part 2: 2/10. Very VERY boring, tries too hard to be emotional and it romatizes abuse for a young audience and that's no good

Fear No Mort: 9/10 can come off as a bit slow at times, and not all the jokes hit, but it's a really gripping and emotional episode

#anti spop #spop criticism #spop discourse #spop crit #anti c//a #anti catradora #anti catra #spop critical #antic//a #spop salt #Rick and Morty #Fear No Mort

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