#briefly talked about this on twitter but i’m fleshing it out a little more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

x-pair-o-dice-x · 2 years ago

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HELL YEAH!!! NEW FIC TIME, FOLKS!!!

here’s their designs i made a long while back,,,,,

warnings: dehumanization(calling a sentient being an it), fear of death, injuries(cut wing), unintentional fearplay.

update: now on ao3!! with updated grammar!!

——————————————

to put it simply: ranboo’s screwed.

like.. royally screwed.

as in, he was going to die.

you might think, well.. ranboo, surely that’s a bit of an overreaction? no one can mess up that badly, right?

well, imaginary person he just made up right now, you’d be wrong.

you see, it all started... some months ago, he thinks?

he was just minding his own business, going about finding berries to fill up his stomach, when he came across trouble.

and.. it’s not like he was unaware of the danger that lurks in the forest he calls his home — you’d have to be blind to ignore the claw marks that littered around various trees, marking out a territory.

but he never knew exactly what the predator was, nor had he ever had the displeasure of meeting it.

..at least, not until then.

..(it was as he was flying towards where a particular hawthorn bush was rooted — his favorite type of berry — when he saw it.

as soon as he registered the unfamiliar bright red color, he stopped in his tracks, quickly moving instead to hide in the branches of a nearby tree. as he hid, he looked back over to the red, and stilled.

there weren’t many large creatures that lived in this cold forest — he thinks the biggest thing he’s seen around were the few packs of wolves.

this... this thing- whatever it was- was way, way bigger than those. about.... seven feet tall, if he had to guess, and its body being way longer.

and, well, as a five-inch tall avian, that’s not really a good thing.

his eyes snap to the creature’s dark red scales, easily registering it as one of a snake. but.. then his eyes trail up, and he notices a lighter red fabric — the thing that brought his attention to the figure in the first place.

at this, he recoils slightly. not at the fabric itself, but at what’s under it.

because.... where the scales stop, there’s instead.. flesh. and as he takes in the rest of the creature, with its blonde.. fur? mane? hair? on top of its head, he finds it..

it looks a lot like him, almost. if he was bigger, and traded his brown feathers for red scales.

he unconsciously lets out a curious little twitter, finding himself slightly intrigued by this unfamiliar creature, when the thing perks up, its head swiveling around wildly. ranboo flinches back a bit, confused by this sudden change, before he realizes. it’s looking for him.

before he can fly away, though, it turns its head around, and immediately, its eyes land on him.

he freezes, heart stopping.

the two stare at each other, the creature looking up at him with an unreadable face. he can see it flex its sharpened claws, briefly, and as he looks into its slitted eyes, he realizes that this… this is the creature that dominates this forest.

and he just got its attention.

“hey there!” the creature yells up at him after a while, grinning up at him with an almost manic look, showing off its shining, sharp fangs.

he sucks in a breath as it talks — (it talks, he didn’t think it could talk, he hasn’t met anything that could talk like him before, not in a long while-) — but does nothing beyond that.

a moment passes, and he can see the creature’s grin turn into a frown.

“uh, hello?” the creature says again, sounding a bit more agitated. “i’m talking to you, dickhead.”

shit, is he making it more mad by not talking? will it hurt him if he stays quiet? but what will it do when he does talk?

too frightened by the idea of trying to talk, he instead chooses to stay silent, though not before a strangled chirp comes out of his throat.

more minutes pass as they stare at each other, as his heart beats fast, his breaths getting more and more shallow.

“....hello?” the creature asks, voice quieter than before, moving to go towards him-

as soon as the creature does, however, ranboo finally snaps back into himself, and pushes himself off of the branch he was on, taking off as fast as he could.

“wh- hey!” the creature yells out, sounding angry — (oh prime he made it angry-) — before he can hear sounds of grass being disturbed behind him.

oh, oh no, oh prime, he’s being chased-

“hey- HEY BITCH, STOP FUCKING- RUNNING!” the creature shouts at him, keeping up with him almost effortlessly, despite not having- you know, legs.

“uh, no- no thank you!” ranboo croaks out, his voice hoarse due to having been unused for a- a long time. “i think i’d rather not, actually!”

he hears the creature let out a laugh, before something behind him shifts, and-

he immediately ducks to the left just as something zooms past him — the creature, he finds, having tried to jump into the air, its claws having been stretched out, presumably in an attempt to grab him. instead, though, it falls onto the ground with a grunt, and he flies past it, going further and further away.

he laughs back at it, albeit a bit hysterically, with his eyes wide in panic. the creature growls at him, but doesn’t move to get up, allowing him to get away with his life.)..

if that was it, if that was his only encounter with the creature, then maybe everything would have been fine. he’d be a little traumatized, maybe, but fine.

but it wasn’t.

maybe if he never stepped foot back into the creature’s territory, he wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. it didn’t own the whole forest, just- a significant part of it. luckily, his home — a small nest in a quaint little sugar maple tree — didn’t reside inside of its territory, though it was a little too close for true comfort.

..but...... that area was the only place that had his hawthorn berries..

and.. maybe it’s a stupid idea to continue risking his life for some berries.

but.. he really, really likes those berries.

and, besides, he’s been to that area before- tons of times, in fact! and before then, he hadn’t seen the creature then. so, what are the chances he’d see it again?

..they were very high, as it turns out.

only a week had passed when he finally got the courage to tread back onto the creature’s territory, and for a while, it was looking good.

then he came across the creature again.

and then it chased him again.

he escaped, just like before, and didn’t go back for another week.

from then on, a tradition of sorts was formed — not one he really liked all that much, but it had formed nonetheless.

every so often, he ventured into the creature’s territory for one reason or another — the creature did inhabit a large portion of the forest, it was impossible to avoid it’s territory outright — he gets chased, they exchange banter(panicked on his part), he escapes and gets to live another day.

..(they were playing their little cat and mouse game when they first had a small conversation with each other.

“sooooo,” the creature drawled out, having just tried to pounce at him. “what exactly are you? i’ve never seen anything that looks like you before.”

“i,” ranboo panted out, trying to catch his breath, “could say the same to you.”

the creature hummed, moving itself into a hunched up position. if he weren’t so paranoid, he’d think it was just resting.

“well,” the creature said, grinning up at him with its sharp teeth, “i’m the biggest naga there ever is.”

“..a naga?” he repeated cautiously, hovering in the air a few feet away.

“yep! half snake, half human, full awesomeness.” the creature- or, the naga, laughed up at him, the end of its tail swaying back and forth. ranboo ignored the last part of the sentence.

“..uh-huh.” he murmured.

“what about you?” the naga shot back at him. “i told you what i am, now tell me what you are!”

he shouldn’t. he should just fly away, he shouldn’t even be talking to it in the first place.

but.... he decided to indulge it.

“i’m.. an avian,” ranboo said, “uh, part sparrow- or, bird, part.. human? and full- umm.”

“full pipsqueak?” the naga finished.

“wh- hey!” he crossed his arms, giving the naga a pout. “i’ll have you know that i’m actually taller than the rest of my species.” he paused. “i, uh. i think.”

before he could do anything else, though, something moved, and he gasped, shooting out of the way- just in time to see the naga try to jump at him once again.

he watched the naga fall onto the ground with an indignant cry once more, his heart beating in his chest.

(right. predator trying to kill him. he needs to stop feeling so comfortable talking to it.)

“wow,” he croaks out, laughing a bit hysterically, “i think you’re actually full, uh- jerk, actually.”

“yeah?” the naga calls out, moving to get up, “well you’re full of- wait, shit no come back here you prick!”

“nope!” ranboo yelled out, making his escape.)..

it was risky, toying with death so often. and it was especially dangerous riling up the naga so much. in reality, there was nothing really worth getting pursued by a predator — one day, ranboo’s luck was sure to run out, and he’d be left to face the consequences of his actions. in all honesty, he should just leave this forest all together.

..but.... he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t lonely. he hasn’t seen anything like him in.. years. he hadn’t seen his parents since he was little, and after they disappeared, he had been living on his own ever since.

it.. it was sort of nice, in a way, to be able to talk to someone. even if that someone was trying to kill you.

and so, he kept venturing into the naga’s territory, practically flirting with death.

which.. led to now.

guess death finally picked up his calls, he thought bitterly.

it was funny. in the end, it wasn’t even the naga that brought his doom.

he had been attacked by a hawk, it landing a good hit on his wings, causing him to plummet to the ground.

so here ranboo laid on the floor of the forest, bleeding from the large cut on the back of his wing. every time he moves it, it hurts. maybe if he just grits his teeth, and pushes through the pain, he can- he doesn’t know. make it back home, he guesses?

but what about after that? his wing is still hurt — at this rate, he might not be able to go gathering for- for a whole week. and he needs to go gathering, he’s run out of food, that’s the whole reason he’s in-

he freezes.

he’s... in the naga’s territory.

he’s in the naga’s territory.

oh no, oh no no no no no no no no no no-

he needs- he needs to leave, yesterday. if- if the naga found him now, there’s no way he could escape it.

he’d be........

frantically, he tries to push himself up on the ground. warily, he shakes his wings- wincing when pain shoots up from his left. he can’t help but let out a strained twitter.

his heart stops when he hears grass being disturbed not too far away.

he tucks his wings back in, turning around so that he’s facing where he thinks he hears the noise.

please be some other creature. please be a bird- a squirrel. or a mouse, or- or a wolf, anything but-

his ears twitch when he hears a cruel laugh. his heart sinks.

no.. please, prime, no......

“well well well, what do we have here?” a voice calls out, before the naga comes into view.

he doesn’t move an inch. he just can’t bring himself to.

“what?” the naga says, “nothing to say? come onnn, it’s no fun if you don’t give me something to work off of!”

ranboo stays silent, though his heart feels like it’s beating loud enough to be heard by the both of them.

the naga stares at him, before pouting. “seriously? noth-nothing? cat got your tongue or what?”

he- he needs to do something, who knows how long he has until the naga grows bored and decides to just- but-but he can’t, he can’t find the energy to do- anything.

he croaks out a terrified little warble, shifting himself further away.

at that, the naga’s brow furrowed slightly, and seemed to give him a closer look.

shit, if it realizes he’s injured, he’s done for.

at that, he suddenly finds the motivation to do something.

“h-hey, are you-” before it can even finish, ranboo shoots up, pushing himself up off of the ground, and takes off into the sky. it’s a bad idea, trying to fly with an injured wing, but there’s no way he’d be able to outrun it on the ground.

he can hear the naga cry out, but he’s more focused on trying to push through the pain — each flap of his wings makes him grit his teeth, but he continues on.

usually, when he gets chased by the naga, he goes to take detours, various twists and turns that the naga can’t follow him through, but he knows if he tries that, he won’t have the energy to make it back home. even now, it takes effort to stay in the air.

so, instead he’s just booking it back to his nest. maybe if he gets there fast enough, he’ll- he’ll be fine.

he can’t hear if the naga is following over the fast thumping of his heart, over the wind blowing past his ears.

after what feels like way too long, he can finally see his nest in the distance.

he laughs in relief, and starts doubling his efforts — much to the chagrin of his own wings.

ranboo only barely stops himself from slamming into the hollow that holds his nest, and practically collapses into the mossy material, letting out a strained chirp.

for a minute, all he feels is relief, and exhaustion. his wing aches, both from the cut and having overexerted himself, and his foot still throbs, but he’s safe.

for a moment, he’s at rest.

then he registers the sound of something moving right outside his tree.

he shoots himself back up, and peeks out of the hollow.

the naga stares right back at him, only a few feet away from his tree.

he lets out a yell, slamming into the back of the hollow, gritting his teeth when pain shoots through his body from his wing.

what- what the hell is it doing here?!?

the naga never leaves its territory. never once, in all of times he’s been chased, has the naga ever even dared to step foot outside of its territory. once he makes it out, the sick little game they play is over until the next time he ventures there.

so why, why did it decide to break those unofficial rules now?

is it- is it tired of toying with me? is it taking advantage of the fact that i’m injured?

after what feels like years and a millisecond, suddenly, a face blocks the entrance of the hollow.

he lets out a startled warble, trying to push himself further into the wall.

for a minute they stare at each other, the naga looking at him with an unreadable expression.

he sees the naga’s mouth move, as if saying something(a taunt it’s taunting him it’s-), but he can’t hear it over the loud, rapid beating of his heart, through the blood rushing through his ears.

distantly, he’s aware that he’s hyperventilating, but it’s kind of hard to focus on that when death is literally right in front of you-

the naga looks like it’s trying to talk again, its brow furrowing, but he can’t hear oh god what is it saying to him what is it going to do to him why is it getting darker why is he feeling dizzy why is-

his vision blurs, and for a moment, everything is simply just- too much.

the last thing he registers is the faint sound of the naga’s voice — he can’t understand the words, but he thinks it almost sounds- panicked.

and then, everything goes dark.

——————————————

ah, shit. the avian passed out. that’s not good, tommy thinks.

for a moment, he just sits there, staring at them, before slowly, he reaches his hands inside the hole in the side of the tree, and gently scoops the little sparrow up.

and it's as tommy brings the avian close, seeing it in his hands, that he fully notices.

they.. they were so.... small.

like.. yeah, he always knew they were pretty tiny beforehand, it was hard not to notice. but.... it’s one thing to see them from a distance, it’s a whole other to see the poor guy in his grasp.

even with their wings extended, they were only just about bigger than his hands.

and.. now that he’s focusing on their wings.. is, is one of them injured?

he shifts the avian into one of his hands, and carefully touches their right wing. he stretches it out gently, and-

a large cut, right across. it isn’t too bad, all things considered — certainly not fatal — but it had to be painful to move.

and yet.. the avian still tried to fly away from him. surely, that couldn’t be good for their injury, yet they still did it.

they looked so.. so scared, too. not like all the other times he chased them.

or..

now that he’s really thinking about it.. was the avian just as scared as he chased them before? the sparrow always taunted him back — hell, sometimes they even started their fun little spats — but.. did the avian not see it the way he did? as a fun little game between friends?

did..

did the avian not think they were friends?

all this time, tommy thought they were on the same page — the avian kept coming back, after all — but.. if, if they thought that.. that he was gonna kill them, all this time..

fuck. he messed up.

and he didn’t know if he could fix this.

he was broken out of his thoughts as the avian shifted slightly. they had tucked the wing he had grabbed back in, letting out a quiet, pained warble as they upset their injury. after that, they went still once more.

tommy stared down at the avian, eyes still fixated on the wing.

..he may not be able to salvage whatever friendship he thought they had, but.. maybe he could still help. just this once.

and then, he’ll.. he’ll leave them alone, and they’ll never have to deal with him- never have to be afraid of him again.

not if he can help it.

——————————————

tommy ends up bringing the avian to his home.

or.. “home.” in actuality, it’s less of a home, and more of a place he resides in.

it’s in a cave, one incredibly hard to find if you don’t know the way. at least, no wild animals have made their way in here before.

or maybe they were just wise enough to stay away.

either way — typically, he doesn’t get many visitors.

and.. while he’s certainly wanted someone to hang out with for the longest time, this.. wasn’t the way he envisioned it happening.

once inside, he curls the end of his tail up, and carefully places the little sparrow inside. he tightens his grip slightly — nothing too tight, of course, just enough to make sure they don’t slip.

once tommy’s sure they’re secure, he turns towards where he hoards his possessions, and pulls out a bag — one that used to be owned by a stray camper, one who had run away at the mere sight of him, leaving behind all of their belongings.

it.. kind of sucks, being so feared all the time. it’s lonely. animals of all sorts try to stay clear of his path — which sucks when he wants to eat, or when he just wants a pal.

and he’s barely seen anything beyond animals — there tends to be very few humans that dare venture in the forest, let alone his territory inside. those that do are either unaware idiots, or think they could brave whatever lies in the shadows.

they both tend to run away with their tails between their legs soon after they enter.

and.. even if they were stupid, it.. still kind of hurts to see them run away.

but i suppose it can be good, sometimes, he muses, pulling out bandages from inside the bag, otherwise, i wouldn’t have this.

a first aid kit — granted, one for humans, not.. whatever the hell he and the bird are supposed to be. but, ehh, tah-may-toh tah-mah-toh, it’ll be good enough.

probably.

..hopefully.

tommy turns his attention back to the avian. slowly, he shifts his tail’s grip, releasing the injured wing from its grasp, while keeping the other one pinned; and examines the cut.

it wasn’t worse than before, but he can still see the red spreading around the surrounding feathers.

he unravels the bandage roll, tearing part of it off. he stares at the wide material for a second, before tearing it in half as well — it would be too big for the little bird’s wing, otherwise.

with the bandage obtained, he gently grasps the injured wing, stretching it out slightly.

he hesitates slightly, his eyes flicking back and forth from the wing and bandaged.

he.. doesn’t actually know how to take care of injuries. especially an injury on a wing.

wrapping it up in a bandage.. should help.... right?

welp, i fucking hope it does, ‘cause it’s the only thing i got.

he shifts his grip on the bandage, before carefully wrapping it around the wing.

it’s around the fifth or so wrap-around that the avian begins to move.

it’s subtle at first — a twitch here or there that could easily be explained as something else — until the little sparrow lets out a loud, frightened chirp.

that’s the only warning tommy has before the avian begins thrashing in his grip.

startled, he instinctively tightens his grip, tip of his tail wrapping slightly around the avians neck to keep them still.

that, however, seems to have done the opposite effect of what he wanted — the avian just began struggling even harder, flapping their injured wing in an attempt to get away — which hey wait no don’t do that-!

“wh- hey hey, no no no calm down!” tommy exclaims, turning the avian around to get a better look at them.

the first thing he notices is their expression — frightened, wide-eyes flickering everywhere, but seemingly unseeing. as he notes the panicked breathing, and the terrified peeps, tommy realizes — they’re not all here right now. they’re too busy being scared to fully realize why they’re scared.

“shit,” he mutters under his breath, eyes wide, while trying to think of what the fuck to do.

he’s- he’s barely been around other people normally, how the fuck is he meant to deal with this?!

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-

tommy pulls the avian closer to him, and starts- petting their head.

look, he doesn’t know what the fuck else to do, okay?!

the bird flinches as soon as he touches them, but he rubs his hand through their hair anyway, all the while murmuring sweet nothings at them in an attempt to get them to calm down.

“shhh, you’re alright,” tommy whispers, “you’re okay, i’m not gonna hurt you, little sparrow. you hear me? i’m here to help, i promise.”

the avian can’t hear him, he knows that, and at first, they still struggled against him. but after a few minutes of murmuring and rubbing their head, the scared little chirps quiet, and their struggles die down.

and soon, they fall limp.

panicked, tommy snaps his hand away and quickly examines the avian.

after a moment, he relaxes. they’re fine, they just.. passed out.

again.

well, that was.. a thing. that happened, tommy thinks.

he relaxes his tail, and turns the avian away once more, looking again at the injured wing.

alright, tommy gives a tired smile, to no one in particular, let’s get back to this.

and then, we can..

his smile falters.

..and then, we never have to see each other again.

——————————————

it took a while for ranboo to wake up.

his mind had been awake for a bit, but he hadn’t bothered to actually.. get up. his body felt exhausted, and he just- wasn’t quite ready to deal with the day yet.

sadly, though, he felt his stomach growling at him, and he let out a quiet groan.

curse you, bodily needs, he pouted, before opening an eye.

he was in his hollow, he noted, which.. felt both right and... wrong, somehow. and- something was different, as well.

he wasn’t able to dwell on that for any longer, though, as his stomach ended up yelling at him once more, and he winced. damn, he felt really hungry right now.

with a sigh, he pushed himself up, before moving to stretch-

only to pause when one of his wings wouldn’t quite open up.

his brow furrowed, and he turned his head to check.

he- he couldn’t see it all that well, but-

one of his wings was wrapped up in a fabric.

“what the-?” ranboo muttered questioningly, blinking at the material.

his ear flicked absentmindedly as he registered something moving around, but he was too focused on his wing.

when.. when did this happen? did he, like.. wrap it up before? no, no he couldn’t have, surely he would remember?

..well, maybe not, he was never the best at remembering stuff, especially early in the morning.

......or, he thinks as he spares a glance outside, a bit before night..?

he doubletakes, and looks back out again. sure enough, the sky — or what little he could see of it through the trees — held an orange hue.

..okay, now he really needed to know what the hell happened, because he does not usually sleep in this late. hell, he doesn’t even take naps, there should be no reason for him to wake up at any time other than the morning.

think, ranboo, think — what happened?

he.. he had mistaken the amount of food he had left, and ended up running out this morning — he winced when the thought caused his stomach to churn, still yelling at him for not giving it an offering of sorts.

great, gotta deal with that for a while, i guess, he grimaces.

so, he went out today to go get food, and ended up going to the.. the naga’s territory.

and, as if the final puzzle piece clicked into place, everything flooded back.

holy shit, the hawk- his wing twitches, only now registering the dull sting of the cut underneath the fabric.

but, wait- the hawk wasn’t the only thing he encountered.

he gasps as he realized the last thing he remembered.

getting caught by the naga.

but- but if the naga got him, then- why is he in his hollow? was.. was it a dream- wait, no it couldn’t be, why else would his wing be injured. but then, then why is he-?

his ear flicks when he hears something outside again, and he freezes.

it.. it sounded like- like something was on his tree-

the naga was on his tree.

in a panic, his mind clouded, he darts towards the entrance of his hollow — he needs to get out, he needs to escape, he’s a sitting duck if he stays in there-

as he jumps out of the tree, though, he realizes something he forgot.

the fabric.

he tried to spread his wings, but- his injured wing is tied, he can’t fly, he can’t fly, he’s falling he’s-

something clasps around his body, and suddenly, he’s dragged onto the ground with a flop, and a grunt from somewhere behind him.

a moment passes, where he sits there wide-eyed, trying to register what happened.

and then it does.

ranboo whirls his head around in a panic- (as best as he can with how he’s trapped he’s trapped he’s-) and ends up staring the naga in the eyes.

the naga has half of its body on the ground, its arms outstretched in front from trying to grab him. the rest of its body trails up into his tree, the end of its tail curling around the branches in an attempt to keep it from falling. not that it did a great job, considering the fact that they’re still laying in the ground.

they stare at each other for a minute, ranboo’s heart beating fast the whole time, before the naga’s body scrunches up like a- a caterpillar. he’s confused, before realizing it’s simply trying to pick itself up.

it pushes its upper body off the ground, as the rest of its tail ends up slithering off of the tree.

soon, it’s standing(so to speak) normally, staring once more at him.

fuck, he thinks, wide-eyed as looks the naga in the eyes, this is it. i’m dead.

suddenly, the clawed-hands he’s in start to move, and he shuts his eyes tight with a terrified twitter, his breath halting.

he- he doesn’t want to see it. see what happens to him.

he can feel the claws around him twitch slightly as they move, carrying him- somewhere.

he jolts as he feels himself being placed on something soft, and before he can question it, the claws start to move away-

instantly, his eyes snap open as he throws himself away, his back slamming against the back of- something, and his wings scream at him in pain but it doesn’t matter he needs to get away get away get away-

his mind doubletakes when he realizes that he’s-

he’s back in his hollow.

he’s...... what..?

ranboo’s eyes snap back to the naga as its hands move out of the hollow, leaving its face in clear view.

he’s still breathing frantically, eyes still wide, staring right at the naga’s blue slitted eyes.

he’s- he’s never noticed they were blue before, actually. he’s usually too focused on, well.. staying alive, to pay attention to things like the color of his hunter’s eyes.

ranboo’s taken out of his thoughts when the naga speaks up.

“uh,” the naga says, and- he thinks he may be going crazy, because- the naga almost sounds like it's nervous, “i, uh- stay...here. you’re still hurt.”

it pauses, looking like it wants to say more, but, after giving him a once over, seems to decide against it.

instead, it.. slithers away out of sight.

for a few minutes, ranboo stays still, out of fear that it’ll come back. it- it has to, why wouldn’t it? it’s been after him for- for months...

but as time passes, he- he shakily walks towards the hollow’s entrance, looks around, and-

its.. it’s not nearby. not from what he could see, anyway. and- sure, it’s getting kind of dark, but- he’s.. he thinks it’s gone.

..why..? why did it leave? he- he’d been in its grasp.. twice, even, if the fabric on his wing had to say anything.

his eyes ended up trailing back to the material. now that he was closely examining it, he noticed.. it was a bit red, actually.

blood, he realizes. this.. was the fabric.. stopping the bleeding?

did.. did the naga.. help him....?

but- that doesn’t make any sense. ever since they met, the predator had been trying to kill him.

his thoughts were stopped when his stomach growled at him- shit, he’s.. he’s still hungry. but- he doesn’t have any food, and there’s no way he could go out to get more — even without the naga’s- threat? warning?- his wing is still hurt. the only reason he could fly on it before was the adrenaline.

he shook his head, looking back in his hollow- before freezing when he saw what was inside.

there was a roll of fabric, that looked similar to the material around his wing, but- that’s not what caught his attention.

no, what he had noticed was right beside it. it.. it was a whole pile of berries in his nest. one that could last him a whole week.

i.. how did i not see this before? he thinks numbly, staring at it. after a moment of deliberation, he walks up to it, cautiously picks one of them up, and inspects it. it.. didn’t seem to be any of the poisonous berries, at least not one he knows of.

hesitantly, he takes a bite into it- before freezing.

hawthorn berries, he realizes. his favorite.

who- he starts to think, but he stops himself. there’s only one thing that could have done this. the naga.

but.. why?!? why was it doing this?

his stomach growled at him once more- quieter, but much more needily, now that it knew there was something to satisfy it.

his eyes flicked between the entrance of his hollow, and the pile of berries, before he sighed, digging in once more. he.. he can think about it later. for now, he’ll just enjoy this while it lasts.

——————————————

it’s.. it’s been around a week since ranboo was injured, and found by the naga, and.. frankly, he’s still just as confused as he was before. maybe even more so.

it.. it hadn’t really come back. he was expecting it to —

why wouldn’t it? it had been chasing after him for- for months, why would it give up now?

he can only assume it’s the one who gave him the berries, as well as the fabric(which.. as much as he hated to admit it, especially if it was the naga who gave it to him, but.. it did help his wing, kept him from using it while it tried to heal), seeing as it was the only thing around, but.. the only question he has is.... why?

was it.. did it think it was unfair, to catch him while he was hurt? when he’s fully healed, will it.. will it immediately try to kill him again..?

oh prime, oh prime oh prime oh prime..

he let out a shuddering breath, before shaking his head.

it’s.. it’s no use thinking about that right now. it’s not like he could do much about it, anyway.

so instead, he dug into another berry, and tried to find something to distract himself.

he brings his attention to his wing — he thinks it might be about time to change out the fabric once again.

but, he realizes, as he takes a closer look, it doesn’t really look like he.. needs one? the fabric still looks pretty clean, even though he knows it’s been a while since it was first applied.

does.. does that mean......

carefully, he undoes the wrapping, and as he moves it away-

his.. his wing looks healed.

he flaps it experimentally, and- it doesn’t hurt.

his eyes widen, and immediately, he throws himself out of the hollow, and- and he takes flight.

ranboo lets out a laugh as he soars through the air, doing laps around his tree.

he- he can fly again!

prime, it’s been a whole week since he could fly- it doesn’t sound like too much, but the time had passed by slowly, between his injury and his fear.

he didn’t realize how much he missed flying — he guesses going without it for a week makes one forget how fun it can be.

ranboo lands on a branch, ignoring the small ache in his wing — maybe going all out with flying after not using his wings for a while wasn’t the best idea, but hey, he’ll live.

he sobers a bit.

he’s- he’s still alive. even after all he’s been through, even after that hawk, and getting caught by the naga, he’s.. still alive.

but for how long?

now that he’s better, will the naga.. go back to hunting him?

he.. he should probably leave. that would be the smartest thing to do. just- pack up(metaphorically speaking, he doesn’t have many belongings), and head out for a different forest.

he- he doesn’t know what the naga would do if he fell into its grasp again. it could- it could hurt him, could kill him, could-

could.. help him, he thinks, looking back at his wing.

ranboo.. still doesn’t know why exactly it helped him. his first thought was because it wanted to catch him fair and square, no outside forces, but..

if.. if that was the case, wouldn’t it have taken the chance to taunt him about it? it’s never passed that opportunity up before.

yet, beyond that first scare earlier in the week, the naga... hadn’t shown up since.

one would think that it would try to check up on him, see his progress, to know when he’s up for the taking again, but..

....but why else would the naga help him? it’s been incredibly adamant about hunting him — he would know, he’s been chased for months.

it just.. doesn’t make sense.

ranboo just wants an answer, at this point, but it’s not like he can get one.

..........unless, he......

....no.

no, he shouldn’t. he wouldn’t. he can’t, that’s- that would just be a death wish.

..but the other option was to just.. wait, and he thinks if he does that, his heart would just explode from anticipation.

if.. if he goes to the naga, at least then he’ll get an answer — it’s just.. that answer might end in his death.

is it.. really that better than just waiting..?

..well, if he keeps overthinking everything like this, he’ll scare his mind to death.

……if.. if he just stays out of reach, maybe he’ll be okay? just stay in the trees, in the air. he’ll.. he’ll be fine.

he’s gonna be fine.

he’s just.. potentially heading towards his demise. it’s fine.

just.. just take a deep breath, ranboo. you’re gonna be okay.

an answer. a reason, for why it helped him, for why he’s still alive. that’s all he wants.

as soon as he gets that, he’ll fly out of there. the naga won’t even get him.

you’re.. you’re gonna be okay.

an answer.

that’s it.

——————————————

it took a while for ranboo to find the naga.

in that time, he almost managed to talk himself out of this thirteen times, but- he’s still doing this.

it makes sense that the naga would be hard to find, he supposes — the naga’s territory was pretty large, taking up most of the forest. there was a lot of ground, and it could be anywhere inside it.

still, it’s a bit weird, seeing as any other time he’d encounter the naga not too long after stepping foot into its territory.

it’s as he’s flying around that he manages to catch sight of something red in the corner of his eye, and he nearly trips over himself in the air as he doubles back.

there, laying on a rock, staring at a lake, was the naga.

ranboo landed in a branch in a nearby tree, and stared at the naga for a second.

he opened his mouth to say something, but paused.

what.. was his plan here, exactly......?

..did he seriously not have a plan.

oh for- in all the time it took to find it, did he seriously not think of some way to at least start this conversation?

ranboo, you’re an idiot, he grumbled at himself.

okay- plan, plan he needs a plan.

how the hell does he start this? does he just- throw out the question right now? say hi?

he let out a quiet, frustrated twitter-

though, not quiet enough, he guesses, as he sees the naga’s ear flick.

and that’s the only warning he gets as he sees the naga whirl its head around, eyes darting around the area, before landing on him.

okay, mental note, ranboo? stop making chirps when you’re supposed to be hiding.

they stared at each other for a minute, ranboo not quite willing to make the first move, and neither was the naga, it seemed.

..oh, screw it, he’s getting nowhere with this.

“h.. hey there,” ranboo says hesitantly, his talons twitching slightly.

the naga’s ear flicks again, and for a moment, it says nothing.

“..ayup,” the naga replies. silence, for a moment, before it continues, “uh- how, uh.. how’re you doing?”

oh, great, he’s getting told icebreakers. this is nice.

“i’m- i’m fine. definitely better than before,” ranboo stiltily says, flaring his wings a bit to show it.

the naga hummed, nodding slightly. “good, that’s good,” it says.

the conversation trailed off again.

he’ll be the first to admit: this isn’t exactly what he pictured would happen. he thought he’d be- be immediately chased again, not.. awkward small talk.

prime, this isn’t going well, he grimaces, we’ve had better conversations while i was running for my life.

speaking of-

“why did you help me?” ranboo spoke up, deciding to give up and go right to the point.

the naga jolted slightly. “..what do you mean?”

“i mean- just.. why did you help me?” he repeats, “i thought- you’ve been hunting me this whole time, for months. why did that change?” and.. are you gonna do it again? he doesn’t add.

he doesn’t want the answer to that last one just yet, he doesn’t think he’d like it.

the naga’s eyes widened.

“i- i wasn’t trying to hunt you!” the naga said quickly, and despite himself, ranboo gave it an unimpressed look.

“ah, yeah, right. there was some other reason you kept chasing me down every time you saw me,” ranboo deadpanned.

the naga winced, ears flicking.

“okay, well- i was hunting you, yeah-” —ranboo tensed a bit— “but but!! i wasn’t going to kill you!”

ranboo blanched.

“well why else would you keep chasing after me?” ranboo asked incredulously.

“i just thought we were playing, like- a fucking game or something, like tag!!” the naga yelled, throwing its hands up, and-

huh??

“a- a game.” ranboo said numbly. “all these months. you were hunting me down. for a game.”

the naga paused, fidgeting with its claws.

“y..yeah?” the naga said hesitantly.

oh you have got to be kidding me.

“how in the world am i supposed to know that?!” ranboo shouted, waving his hands in the air, ignoring how the naga flinched, “what else was i supposed to think- ‘oh, hey look, this giant snake-thing keeps chasing me every time it sees me, guess it just wants to play tag!’. if i had that mindset, i’d be dead by now.”

the naga’s shoulders hunched, its eyes looking everywhere except for him.

“i- look, i’m sorry.” the naga said, causing ranboo to pause, “i-i didn’t realize- i thought you knew- i mean, you kept coming back! i just thought- ‘why would they keep coming back if they were scared’, you know? but- but i was wrong, i guess. and i’m sorry for that, big man.”

ranboo stayed quiet, thinking.

the.. the naga thought, this whole time, that this was a game. that’s- that’s fine, yeah no, just call the months of his life spent in terror of being caught a game, that’s fine.

he tries not to think about how he would have faired if the naga had tried to actually hunt him down.

but.. looking back, he.. has always engaged in the banter the naga threw at him. and.. well, sometimes he was the one who started it. and.. he did keep coming back. sure, it was because pretty much all of the good resources in the forest were in the naga’s territory, but..

he can see how the naga thought the way it did.

“so..” ranboo spoke up, causing the naga’s head to jerk up towards him, “this- this whole time- you.. weren’t going to kill me?”

“never,” the naga says immediately, shaking its head. “fuck, have- have you really been thinking that the entire time?”

ranboo hunched his shoulders, and nodded.

“shit, man, i’m- i’m so, so sorry. fuck, if i had known-” the naga cuts itself off, staring down at its hands, tail curling up anxiously, “shit, this.. this whole time, i thought- thought we were friends, but-” it clenched its claws, before knocking one of its fists against its head, “fuck, ‘course not, we’ve barely ever had a real conversation. i don’t even know your name, how could i-”

the naga kept yelling at itself, but ranboo tuned it out, instead just.. staring at it.

this.. really didn’t turn out the way he thought it would. he thought he’d be running away by now, not.. not listening to a predator berate itself.

the naga.. this is not how he’s used to seeing it act. usually they act a lot more sure of itself, more confident, less.. this..

it.. they seem really, genuinely sorry.

this isn’t how he thought this would turn out, no, but.. it’s certainly not the worst outcome.

after a moment of hesitation, he takes in a deep breath, and he jumps off the branch, fluttering down until he lands on the ground right in front of the rock the naga was laying on.

the naga only notices him right as he lands, recoiling as soon as they do.

ranboo looks up at them, ignoring how his mind is yelling at him for getting so close to a predator. they stare at each other for a moment, before he holds out a hand.

“my name is ranboo,” he says, giving the naga a gentle smile.

the naga’s eyes widen, as they stare down at him with a shocked look.

a moment passes as their claws twitch, before slowly, they lift up one of their hands, and, after a brief hesitation, they extend their hand towards him- before curling all but one finger as they realize that their hand is way too large.

he grabs at the finger, and they shake.

“tommy,” the naga- tommy- says, sharing a hesitant smile.

ranboo’s own smile grows bigger.

“nice to actually meet you,” ranboo says, giving tommy a cheeky grin.

tommy lets out a chuckle at that, and after that, all is calm.

the fear he felt rising in his chest dulls, until it’s barely noticeable, and as he stares up at the naga, he thinks.. maybe, maybe they really could be friends.

#mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #my writing #tiny!ranboo #giant!tommy #extreme game of chase au #HOPE YOU GUYS ENHOY THIS #*enjoy #according to google docs; this was first started back in- holy shit wait; april?????#damn i really took my time with this mfkfjfkdmkf #welp; it’s done now and that’s all that matters!#also this took me an hour to format i hate everything /lh

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obutsuwrites · 4 years ago

Text

crybaby (therapist!overhaul x f!reader)

summary: She nodded, too ashamed and drunk on her own high to function.

Unsatisfied by her response, Chisaki grabbed her face. Her rosy cheeks squished in his grip. Chisaki realized she was cute like this. A little puffy fish.

“You’re being such an annoying pig. My patience is growing thin. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.” His sentence stumbled from him, in between heavy breaths.

The woman buried her face in his chest, “Please fuck me, Kai. I need it -- please, please, please.” warnings: boot worship, dubcon, light scalpel play, male masturbation, light medical play, praise, smut, overstimulation, yandere elements word count: 4,162 lil note: this was written as part of the bnha degeneracy 9 to 5 collab! also we like the banner?? i’m thinking of bein fancy with my posts now 👉👈 masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info | ask box is open (for requests)

"His eyes were lifeless. No light entered, no light left. I guess," the woman pauses and pushes out a gravely sigh, "no… refraction." Chisaki Kai notes she says the word with grief; as if it were painful. He scribbles a note: overemotional. Golden eyes examined the woman. Scanning and memorizing the imperfections in her armor. The woman that sat comfortably. It was like her little sad frame didn't bother her. Her body shook and a whimper escaped.

'Fascinating,' he thought. She was a pathetic creature. Sobbing once a week into his fine leather. The woman was an ugly crier. Her face would swell; puffy and pink. Eyes glossy and red. Sometimes, Chisaki's pants would constrict from the display. Misery in it's finest form. A show just for him.

Chisaki would be lying if he didn't think this blubbering woman would look better wrapped around his cock. Her squishy face smashed against his groin. Eyes watery and looking up, words of praise muffled. Latex gloves gripping her hair as he degrades her. 'A pathetic little crybaby.'

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time she had cried, Chisaki sent her packing. His stern voice demanding she "fix her attitude" before returning. Yet, the very next week this weepy woman crumbles. Her voice was a howl. Low and haunting. She'd shake. Her tiny body unable to contain grief. It was disgusting. This was time for help, not fits. The second time, Chisaki only found it unsightly.

But the third time? The third time she was able to speak, and her voice trembled. Words so sad and awful. She was lesser than him. She was pathetic.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eventually, Chisaki memorized her trauma; low self esteem and a lack of power from an event involving a roommate. Some days he learned more than others. Sometimes the woman would simply come to cry. No words, simply the sound of her wails. They bounced off the room like rubber. Her sobbing stuck in his ears like honey. Thick. Syrupy. Sweet.

Nothing seemed to improve during their sessions. It was always one fit after another. No change. No spiral. This crybaby was the only constant for Chisaki. His patients came and went, conditions manageable. But this little crybaby of a woman was expected every Friday at 4. Punctuality was her only redeeming quality. There was something pleasant in appreciating Chisaki's time. 'Considerate' was the word.

She stopped crying as the clock struck 6. 'Like clockwork.' Truthfully, Chisaki believed the woman allowed herself this insecurity. The two hours with him were cathartic. He circles the word in his notes. His canary eyes were glued to her file now. The woman's face was bland and uninteresting. 'You look so plain like this.' A scowl returned to Chisaki's lips.

"Thank you, Dr. Chisaki," the woman beamed. She often pretended as if she hadn't wept. As if Chisaki were paying her a kindness. It enraged him; she was scum. Her position was beneath him. Her eyes wouldn't leave him. Glossy and wrinkled in a grin.

'Sickening.'

Chisaki suppressed a shiver, "I appreciate our talks," his lips twist into a smile, "Drive home safely." He always emphasized the talking. Her trembling lips and heavy voice were erotic in a way. Chisaki wondered what her tears tasted like. He envisioned himself atop her; fingers exploring her pussy, tongue lapping at her tears.

He watched the woman leave. Golden orbs trained on her back. She took her time leaving; punishment for watching her cry. Chisaki’s cheeks grew hot. It was nauseating to think of bending her over the fine leather. Chisaki was convinced she’d be obedient, her ass waiting in the air.

‘You’d be a soaking little crybaby, wouldn’t you?’

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His evening began with ritual. Chisaki slipped off his slacks, opting to keep his sweater on. He felt less dirty that way. His cock sprung from his boxer briefs. Heavy and veiny. Chisaki rubbed the tip before spitting on it. He rubbed the spit in, thinking of her. Drooling and sobbing on his cock. Chisaki wanted to rob her of oxygen, ‘Her face must be so cute when she chokes.’ The thought hit Chisaki as he stroked his length. He grunted, palm pumping his cock. His other hand cradled his balls, softly kneading. Orgasms felt so dirty. Unnatural. Viscous cum shot into the pillowy deepness of a tissue.

He looked at it and groaned. Tossing the tissue away, Chisaki started preparation.

The hum of a computer filled his bedroom. It was ancient, but Chisaki wasn’t picky. Besides, the rudimentary technology only served one purpose. This was Chisaki’s gateway into ‘hysteria and the female orgasm.’ A million and five hundred thousand results. Everything at his fingertips. He observed her enough -- watched her enough to realize what she needed. She needed his latex clad fingers. His cock buried in her seeping core. He’d stretch her, ruin her body for anyone but him. Her cunt was made for him.

Chisaki sat in his underwear. Face focused on an order page. Recently, Chisaki found himself hyper focusing on this fantasy; his little crybaby overstimulated and mewling, begging Chisaki for relief. She’d pray for his cock. He was her only release.

The plan was simple. Allow her to breakdown as usual until he could no longer handle it. Then, he’d offer the woman a glass of water. Claiming that she must be ‘so dehydrated.’ If she refused, Chisaki planned to persist. ‘It’s for my peace of mind, too.’ He could strike her vulunability. Show her someone cared. She was naive and too stupid, so clearly she would lap up his kindness. Insist on drinking every last drop, letting the ‘medication’ take full effect. This necessity was for his sake. Chisaki didn’t want his crybaby too loud.

His mind drifted to her wiggling beneath him, his boot pressed against her cheek. Perhaps he would force her to lick it, if only to remind her of her place.

“Beneath me,” he murmurs as a hand sneaks under his waistline.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His kit sits comfortably, tucked behind a bookshelf. Chisaki recognized he needed items. Physical means to make his vision into reality. He anticipated she would come into his embrace quietly… but a part of him hoped she’d fight him. Permit him to make an example of her. Chisaki’s chest tightened. The clock ticked slowly, as if chastising Chisaki for his plans. However, he knew she needed this -- needed him.

In his kit sat latex gloves, rope, a scalpel, and an expensive vibrator. The personal massager took some convincing to buy; he hated the idea of a market for these… toys… but it was essential. Her face had to be flushed and sweaty. It was important she knew how inferior she was. Chisaki was doing her an injustice by letting the woman merely exist without him.

A soft beep echoed; the beginning of his plan. Chisaki sat with his legs crossed. Leisurely. Slender fingers atop his notes. The little pile before him was a fraction of his observations. His little crybaby was interesting, to say the least. She was his favorite client. Chisaki was almost embarrassed by the sheer volume of material he kept. His closet was home to clothes and boxes; all filled with parchment. Their margins were adorned in highlight and sticky notes. Chisaki was nothing if not dedicated.

Quiet foot falls marked her arrival. The woman would always stand outside until Chisaki welcomed her in. Even asking permission for her therapist appointment. There was something admirable about it -- something Chisaki had to break.

“Come in,” Chisaki called. His voice carried an airy professionalism. Yellow eyes briefly looked up, but quickly returned to the floor. Chisaki held his lust by memorizing the carpet.

She shuffled in, gently shutting the door behind her. Despite the miserable crybaby mannerisms, the woman was quite polite. ‘Very well trained for a mutt,’ Chisaki mused. Silence was heavy between them; this weeping woman was never consistent with greetings. Somedays, she wouldn’t choke out a ‘hello’ until deep within her misery. Her words obviously muted by her hands. She liked to cradle her face, Chisaki believed it was to stimulate intimacy. Something she was clearly lacking.

Settling into a chair, she managed a meek ‘hello’ before salty tears brimmed her eyes. Chisaki snuck a glance; she looked in pain. Her bottom lip stuck between teeth. The woman nibbled at the flesh. Anything to alleviate her sadness. The sharp pain was a perfect anchor.

‘I won’t cry. I won’t cry in front of him today.’ She was going to will herself to hold back tears and actually talk. It was kind enough of Dr. Chisaki to let her openly bawl. In all honesty, the woman hated herself for it. At this point, she was only paying him to watch. The poor man was probably too shy -- too professional to ask her to quit. She was abusing his altruism. The woman bit back a shiver, puffing out her chest. Swallowing sadness.

Chisaki looked up. Silence between them this early was… "Are you okay?" Her name comes out like a melody. Something he wants to say forever. Chisaki gripped his clipboard. He needed to ground himself. Find haven in reality.

She stares back, "I come here bec--"

"Don't say it," he murmured. Hand resting comfortably on her thigh. There was an obvious barrier; her leggings. Plush. Almost like her pillowy thighs. Chisaki groped at the plump flesh; "You're so soft." His fingers wander to pinch, "It's disgusting."

The woman remained quiet. Debating with his hand creeping toward her thigh felt dangerous. Dr. Chisaki made her feel dirty; lewd, maybe? She wasn’t sure. The heat in her core was becoming overwhelming. Her mouth moved to speak, but nothing fell out. Empty.

“Silent now, are we? What happened to your big speech? Tell me about how you’re feeling… right now.” His words were a command. No trace of a request. Chisaki needed to hear her quake; wiggle against his clothed bulge.

Saliva pooled in her mouth. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety.

“I want to go home,” She blubbered, voice strained and whining. Her vision was blurry at best. Everything was splotchy. Dr. Chisaki was an imposing shape of purple and black. She knew he wore a tie; simple deep purple. Shirt. His shirt is black. It takes her a moment to compose thoughts. His hand and her only time to weep were overstimulating.

Chisaki continued his assault, fingers violently rubbing at her covered slit. He wanted to see a tear before the gloves. Before her examination. His cock pulsated at the thought. Latex in her mouth, stuffing her with the cure his cock. A shock -- an orgasm (even this word was perverse to Chisaki) would dislodge any feverishness. Dissipation. Her cries for him.

“You’re crying,” Chisaki commented; hand slow against her crotch, “Little crybaby.”

The woman muffled a sob and instead bit her lip. Blood bloomed in the corner of her smile. The doctor was a curse. This was illegal. He shouldn’t be touching her like this.

He sighed.

“Nothing just as I suspected.”

“This... “ A heave interjects, “This is my time. I can’t express myself like this.” She motions to her tears. Honestly, the woman was high-strung. Revealing herself -- taking off a mask -- was cathartic. Liberation in its purest form.

He pursed his lips and harshly removed his hand. The auburn haired man stood up; crossing the room to a benign black bag. Chisaki rooted around for his gloves. Latex, white, a barrier between them. Chisaki wanted to touch her briefly -- skin to skin was important. Necessary. Something unavoidable.

A snap resounded through the room. Loud. Interrupting. Chisaki wanted to be heard. He wanted her to gawk; eyes glued to him.

Her face erupted into confusion. Fear nestled into her veins. Too cold, too much. "What is..?" The woman's voice is quiet and still muffled from tears.

'This is the cutest you've looked, isn't it?' Chisaki thought of pinching her cheeks, examining the damage. His pants constricted. It was a kindness to teach this wrenched woman her place.

"Keep talking. This is a part of your therapy," Chisaki stated plainly. He rummaged in the bag further, producing something thin and shiny; metallic caught in the fluorescence. Uncomfortable by the sight, the woman shifted her gaze to his feet. His choice of footwear was odd. Polished, tar black boots. His footfalls were anything but quiet. Roaring. Really, she found it intimidating.

“Please…” She didn’t know why she begged like this. Dr. Chisaki wasn’t supposed to be this cruel. He was a therapist -- her therapist. He seemed so balanced before. Normal. And yet the man before her stood with molten eyes and a scalpel.

Slowly, the auburn haired man strode toward her. As if he were a lion savoring his meal. Inspection for prime dread. “Don’t be stupid and move. It’d be a shame if I,” Chisaki paues to taste the words, “hurt you.” Like any greedy man, Chiaski expected resistance.

But like a good little doe, she stares into the scalpel. ‘So moronic shiny things distract you.’ In a way, he found it enduring. She was so pathetic, so useless without his sympathetic ear. Functioning without him must be a chore; he was her sanctuary.

He stops in front of her, boot tapping against wood. “I think it’s beneficial you learn your place, don’t you? Society must be so pressuring for you. As your licensed healthcare professional, it’s my business.”

The woman gathered remaining courage.

“I’ll call the police.” Before her threat was tangible, Chisaki grabbed her wrists. They fit perfectly in one gloved hand.

“Stop being such a little crybaby bitch.” Cool metal touches her cheek. A warning from Dr. Chisaki.

A shiver overtook her spine. The scalpel was new, shiny, and sharp. He could slice into her face right now, nothing was truly stopping him. Anxiety bubbled in her mind. This man was dangerous. Maybe, maybe monstrous. He listened to her, let her reveal such an intimate part, only to turn on her trust. Betrayal in the worst form.

The woman doesn’t respond.

“Get on all fours,” Chisaki commanded. He punctuated his sentence with a shove. “You’re such a pig bitch, you know that right? It’s sad you think anyone would listen to you sob.”

Her eyes grew into shock. With trembling hands, the woman gets on her knees. Her palms were flat atop spotless wood. Dr. Chisaki was quirky like that. If anything, she admired him for it. He seemed so disciplined. ‘All lies,’ she thinks, melancholy stuck in her eyes. Her heart practically ached. Ached for herself, ached for him.

His lips curled into a smirk. Eyes genuinely wrinkled. Finally, this succubus learned. A jolt of excitement shot through his cock; the member twitching.

“Kiss my boots.”

She blinked at his demand. Her mind had to catch up. She needed to absorb the sentence. Should she resist, kick him, and take off? Could she? Her mind swirled with violent images. Large hands wrapped around her throat. His naked body sweaty against hers.

The woman decided to comply. Chisaki watched in anticipation as her lips made contact with glossy leather. Staying up to wax them was worth it for this. Every fantasy was drab compared to her. She was meek; placing light kisses. Her lips ghosted and left little spit puddles in her wake. Chisaki felt a certain hotness in his stomach. The act was so disgusting, and yet, Chisaki was grinding his bulge into his palm.

Suddenly, the woman stopped and looked up at her confidant. “Can I -- please -- can I leave now?”

Chisaki frowns. She doesn’t sound broken enough. ‘Fixed enough,’ he corrects. ‘She needs to be fixed. Cured.’

“Did I say you could stop?” The auburn man sneered. He stomped his boot, his patient mask falling. “Keep kissing them. Slobber on them, little pig. Show me how worthless you are.”

Her tongue whirled around, saliva dotting his boots. She sounded flustered. Huffs and soft squirming. “How are you feeling? You seem to be enjoying it.”

Without meeting his predatory gaze, she whimpered in between sloppy kisses, “I -- I love this so much, Dr. Chisaki.” Such an obedient crybaby.

“We know each other enough for Kai, you know that.”

Eager yellow eyes watched. Excitement lit up inside his veins. Hot and unable to reject.

Being complacent was her only means of survival now. She stopped, doe eyes boring into him.

Drool trailed from her lips, joined with his boot. “Kai, can I?” Her warm hand removed his and rubbed his crotch. Delicate fingers feeling his length, massaging girth and veins. A vibrating, rough groan escaped Chisaki. Something deep. Something feral. It was a sound the woman couldn’t fathom.

And yet, she felt a tingle between her thighs.

Chisaki stroked her face. Squishy and tear-stained; she should be embarrassed. How humiliating must it be to grovel and sob? It was pitiful in a way. Broken. Pathetic. “Let me see how much you want my cock, like the filthy pig you are. So greedy.”

In response to his harsh words, the woman graciously unbuckled his sleek belt, and quickly unbuttoned his slacks. His cock was constrained underneath boxer-briefs. The cut showed off his calves, toned and lean. Being this close to Chisaki reminded her how big he was -- he towered over her.

She fumbled with the hem of his underwear. Unsure if he wanted her hand or her mouth.

Noticing her confusion, Chisaki brought a gloved finger to her lips, “Suck.”

The woman shook while she tugged down Chisaki’s boxer-briefs. His cock -- slick with pre-cum -- sprung from their cloth prison. She winced at his size; he would spear her. Shoving away lewd images, she gently stroked him. An experimental touch before she took him into her mouth. His cock was heavy in her mouth. The girth of Chisaki made her cheeks puff. Gently, she tried to work his cock to the back of her throat. His bulbous tip made her gag, a sensation that had Chisaki instinctively forcing his cock down her esophagus. Her walls contracted around him. In a panic, the woman tried to shove him away. The action was futile, which left her with one option: digging her nails into him. Piercing his thighs to get him to stop.

“Don’t be so rough, piglette.” Chisaki tugged at her hair until she winced, an audible squeal was muffled by his violent thrusting. Spit dribbled down her chin, landing on her chest. Her face was awash with crimson, discomfort in her features. Chisaki took her in like fine wine. Delicious and sweet.

Her wet tongue tangled with his cock, exploring every inch of him. Hot breath pistoned from her nose. Her nails were still pricking him. Pain mixed with pleasure, until the hot bundle within his stomach felt as if it might explode. Salty pre-cum flooded her mouth; the taste resulting in a sour face. Chisaki knew he’d cum if she didn’t stop.

Chisaki pushed the woman away. Surprised and caught off guard, she lost balance, slamming her palms on the floor.

Chisaki stepped out of his clothes and crouched down. The auburn man decided to instead examine her face, and allow his fingers free-range over her delicate body.

“Stay still,” Chisaki advised, his fingers manipulating the doughy flesh of her breast. She was as soft as he imagined. He could easily bruise her; give her marks that screamed, ‘you belong to Kai Chisaki.’ But he resisted. “Take off your blouse -- slowly -- and tell me how sad and pathetic you truly are.”

“I’m… I’m so sad all the time. I just have this -- oh god -- I have this deep sadness and it feels suffocating, Kai. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

Her body stiffened at his request. The words were too harsh. Too rough. She lifted up her shirt and tossed it behind her. She looked away as Chisaki’s monstrous gaze transversed her chest.

“The bra too, piggie.”

Taking off her bra added another layer of awkwardness. This wasn’t the first time a man saw her like this -- exposed and sweaty… but his hungry eyes sent chills through her. An electricity of unease.

Cruel hands fondled her breasts. His fingers were faint over her nipples. She leaned into his touch, back arched. Barely audible mewls flew from her lips. Her body betrayed her. It was degrading. She should already be out the door and dialing the police. But no, her body craved him. ‘A compliant little pig.’ Chisaki hands wandered to her hip and played with the edge of her skirt. His motions were playful. This side of him was tolerable. Chisaki was like a school boy; bashful and nervous.

“Now, how are you feeling?” Chisaki asked. His tone was condescending; he wasn’t asking out of benign professionalism, but hateful interest.

Her mouth opens and then closes. Unable to compose a response, the woman simply places a hand over his.

Slapping her thigh, Chisaki chides her, “Speak, pig. Use your idotic words and tell sir how you feel.”

She gulps.

“I feel sick. This is shameful, s-sir.” The lewd title causes her blush to deepen. Cheeks flush with embarrassment and delight. Chisaki saw his treatment was finally starting to take hold.

Chisaki snakes a hand under her skirt, massaging her slit once more. Her arousal was still there, clinging wet panties to her cunt. The woman bit her lip trying to stifle groans. The mixture of his fingers on her breast and between her thighs was almost too much. Sweat gathered at her brow as Chisaki slipped a finger into her soaking core. His slender finger pistoned in and out; snapping against her lips. The auburn man had a lack of mercy, his mouth clasped over her neck. Hot mouth sucking at tender flesh. His tongue circled around the abused patch of skin, desperate to savor her.

The room was an ensemble of depravity; their moans mixed with the squelch of her pussy. She bucked into his digit, her body hurting for the stimulation. Heat built in her stomach, like a balloon filled with fire. The sensation continued to expand until it peaked; a high pitched squeal marking her orgasm.

There was a popping sound and then, “So excited you cum already, pitiful, and I was hoping you’d squirm more. You want my cock, don’t you?” His finger leaves her cunt. Spongy walls now empty and wanting.

She nodded, too ashamed and drunk on her own high to function.

Unsatisfied by her response, Chisaki grabbed her face. Her rosy cheeks squished in his grip. Chisaki realized she was cute like this. A little puffy fish.

“You’re being such an annoying pig. My patience is growing thin. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.” His sentence stumbled from him, in between heavy breaths.

The woman buried her face in his chest, “Please fuck me, Kai. I need it -- please, please, please.” She broke out into a series of pleas mixed with crying. Her body was still numb, still too high to really anticipate more. Overstimulated and teary eyed.

“On your back,” Chisaki breathed, his face slightly flushed. He maneuvered her bare body and spread her legs around his wiry waist. Her knees hooked at an angle, like a spider.

Chisaki lined himself up with her tender, violated hole. “You’re so fucking insignificant.” His first thrust was hard and without warning. She gasped and placed her palms on his chest. Carnivorous, gold eyes looked down at her, mouth open and panting. His hips snapped against the back of her thigh. The sound was sharp against their perverse moans. A chorus of vulgarity. His girth made her cunt ache, sensitive walls stretched and full. “Do -- do you know how miserable you make me, little crybaby?” Forming sentences was hard. Chisaki’s cock was sucked in by her cunt; stuck in a death grip. ‘Gonna milk me for every bit of cum, aren’t you, piggie?’

Her hands roamed his chest. His relentless pumping was too much. She needed to grab something. To ground herself back into reality and not a cum induced daze. His veins added texture. Something so stimulating the woman found herself atop another peak. Ready to descend. However, Chisaki hadn’t quite reached nirvana. The cool air desensitized him. The heat of her pussy was like a shock.

“Focus on me.” His raspy voice brought her back into the moment. Squishy body jiggling from the force of Chisaki. Lidded eyes rolled over to gawk at Chisaki. Blissed out. “Honestly, your little crybaby face is cute like this, piggie.” A light slap smacked against her cheek, as if to further compliment her.

Chisaki’s rutted into her sloppy cunt until the hot brand in his stomach exploded; a deep groan vibrated from his chest as cum squirted into her cunt. He milked each thrust, until his balls lazily slapped against her. Tears streaked her face. Eyes glazed over with ecstasy. He grabbed her face once more. A close up look of the damage, “You did so well for a stupid little crybaby.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #yandere bnha #smut #bnha

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pynkhues · 3 years ago

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.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

#hbo succession #succession fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama #kendall x stewy #gerri x roman

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glbertblyth · 4 years ago

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AN: It’s been a long time shirbert fans... anybody still up for some fake-dating shenanigans?

It was raining by the time Diana arrived—the sort of rainfall Anne might have basked in and even written a poem or two about if she’d had a mind for it. Instead, with Gilbert’s short visit still fresh in her mind, it only exacerbated her horrible mood.

Once out the door (slammed behind her, much to Marilla’s great woe), Anne threw her denim jacket overhead to avoid the inevitable ruination of the pretty outfit she’d decided on that day. The walk to the back door of her friend’s car was all it took to dampen her hair and muddy up her beloved white hightops. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine what the state of her hair might be once dry again. The half hour she’d spent on taming the wild red lockes surely going down the drain with every squelching step she took. She shuddered to picture the disobedient strands frizzing and curling annoyingly around her shoulders.

“Anne!” was the first thing she heard when she opened the car door, her hands cold and clammy from grasping the freezing handle.

It was Diana who had exclaimed it, smiling brightly from her spot in the driver’s seat. At its most brilliant sight, Anne’s sour mood nearly melted away - she did so love Diana’s smiles. So for a fleeting moment it was as if it were summer again and they were having one of their lovely days of sloth, with the sun vibrant on their skin as they lay in the fields behind Diana’s house watching the clouds slowly drift across the sky. No school to worry about or boys to try and decipher.

Then thunder rumbled and she was brought back to the present. Sitting wetly in the backseat of Diana’s car next to Jane and catching the very last few syllables of words mumbled from the front.

The brunette beside Anne reached across the gap in the seats to pinch Ruby, who squeaked indignantly.

“We brought coffee,” Diana went on, pulling out onto the road. The higher octave of her voice gave way to the obvious—she was being purposely breezy. Acting as if Anne hadn’t just opened the door and interrupted a conversation in which they had most definitely been talking about her. “I had them put an extra shot in yours because I know that’s the way you like it. Ruby? The coffee?”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she passed the drink to Anne. But she didn’t turn back around when it was in the red-head’s grasp, instead hovering there with an oddly expectant look on her face. A look, Anne realized, that was present on the other girl’s faces as well. Even Diana, big brown eyes wide like a doe’s in the rearview mirror.

“What?” she asked, pausing with her mouth halfway to the straw of her coffee and glancing around awkwardly.

When the only response was the low and torrid voice of Harry Styles drifting through the stereo and a raise of Jane’s eyebrows, Anne’s lips thinned in realization. The very word she had interrupted when she’d opened the door hadn’t been a word at all. It had been a name. Gilbert’s name.

Anne flopped her head back onto the cushioned seat, “Oh god,” she bemoaned. Could she not escape it for five minutes? Not even amongst her most beloved kindred spirits?

But there was nowhere to hide. Not with the three sets of eyes watching her so curiously. Waiting for her to give an explanation that she surely did not have. She was beginning to grow tired of Avonlea’s uncanny ability to spread gossip like wildfire.

“Watch the road,” Anne snapped at her best friend, “or you’ll kill us all.”

Diana gasped and averted her gaze, focusing instead on navigating the road through the pelting rain.

“You can’t deny it happened,” Jane said matter-of-factly. “It’s all over everything.” Then she whipped out her phone, pulling up twitter as a way to prove her point.

“Don’t believe everything you read.” Anne snapped at her.

“So you’re saying it’s just a made up rumor?” asked Ruby, almost hopefully—because while Anne had despised Gilbert since the time she’d first laid eyes on him, Ruby had simply adored him. While Anne would spend every single valuable and precious minute of her English classes poking holes in Gilbert’s foolish arguments, Ruby was sitting not two seats away, mooning. It was exasperating.

“I’m just saying,” Anne folded her arms defensively across her chest, “there was a lot more to it than that.”

“So it happened?!” Ruby exclaimed, with such force she knocked her binder into Diana’s lap and almost spilled both of their drinks.

“Ruby!”

“Well I’m sorry but—this is—you can’t just act like this isn’t a big deal, Anne! He’s Gilbert! ”

“I’m well aware of who he is.”

“You hate him!”

Anne bit the inside of her cheek. Of course she hated him. Of course. But it’s not as if she could tell the truth: that she had used Gilbert as a mere line of defense against dearest Diana’s cousin—her very own flesh and blood. Though how that was possible was beyond Anne considering he was so insufferably annoying, whereas Diana was so sweet and kind and considerate. She never would have pushed anyone the way that Roy had Anne. She never would have refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, never would have imposed so thoroughly on Anne’s personal space that she felt as if suddenly all of the oxygen in the world had run out except what was left in her lungs.

Hell, even Gilbert had taken Anne’s ‘no’ at face value. He had nodded and left, much to her great relief. And how terrible a concept to consider: Marilla inviting him to stay for breakfast! What would she have done then?

“Anne,” Jane poked her cheek. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

Like hell she did. Maybe the decision to kiss Gilbert had been rash, but she wouldn’t have done it had she not felt as though she’d been forced into a corner. And while she did hate Gilbert’s guts, the mere aspect of her kissing him shouldn’t have been ground breaking news. He’d been there. She’d used him as a shield. That was it.

Even if the memory of his lips moving fervently against her own had haunted her dreams all night, it was nobody else's business. After all, he’d technically been her first real kiss. And even if she did think him an insufferable pompous ass, she wasn’t entirely incapable of admitting that he was a rather good-looking boy. She wasn’t blind for chrissake.

But even so, she had absolutely no intention of that little tidbit of information ever leaving the confines of her own mind. Nobody needed to know that she found Gilbert Blythe attractive. Or that she may have very mildly delighted in the fact that he’d been so quick to kiss her back. Or—or that she’d felt a bit of a thrill when she’d seen him again that very morning; a thrill that may or may not have caused her to even entertain the plan that he’d so eloquently presented to her.

The severity of the realization jolted her. Rose her blood levels to an alarming height. Had she just admitted to anticipating Gilbert’s presence?

“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you!” Anne exploded. Though she couldn’t tell if her anger was directed at her friends, at herself, or at the mere prospect of having anything but ill feelings toward her long time rival. “What I do with my life is nobody’s business but my own! I don’t intrude on your private lives like this.”

Ruby shrunk back, but Jane wasn’t deterred. Everyone knew Anne had a terrible temper sometimes. When she yelled it was usually because she felt like she’d been backed into a corner and couldn’t see an escape besides pushing everyone else away.

“Sorry, Anne, but I’m your friend. Friends talk about this stuff. They don’t keep secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.” Anne grumbled. But she knew it was a weak argument. That her friend was right and that she had absolutely no excuse as to why she should keep the truth from them.

Because you’re actually considering Gilbert’s offer, a vexing voice said in her head, And telling them you only did it as a way to escape Royal would ruin it. The voice only annoyed her more despite its truth.

Anne took a sip of her coffee with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Any excuse to avoid talking on the subject further. Avoid meeting the tense stares of her friends.

“I don’t see why it would be such a big deal that you kissed him anyway. Half of our grade has been expecting you two to jump each other’s bones for years.” Jane shrugged nonchalantly.

Anne felt the large gulp lodge in her throat as she choked out a cough, “What?”

Ruby craned her neck around to face her, baby blue eyes wide and vulnerable. Diana released a quiet titter of laughter but didn’t take her eyes off the road.

Traitor.

Jane rolled her eyes exasperatedly, briefly meeting the hurt look of their sensitive friend, “Oh give up, Ruby. He’s known you his whole life and hasn’t made an attempt at you,” When Ruby faced the front again, lower lip jutted out in a pout, her dark gaze swiveled back to Anne’s, “ You , however, caught his attention from the moment you arrived.”

Anne flared her nostrils indignantly, “Not true.”

The girl next to her threw her hands up in frustration, “It is too!”

“Is not.”

“What are we, five?” Jane quipped. And then her face turned smug, “Besides, you guys did end up kissing, didn’t you?”

Jesus, it was a good thing they’d barely missed seeing Gilbert at green gables. Anne hated to think how insufferable her friends might have been had they known he’d stopped by that morning.

She let out a dramatic huff, placing her coffee in the cupholder between them and then crossing her arms to her chest. “Do you just believe everything that Josie Pye posts?”

Jane opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Ruby turned around in her seat again, “We don’t have to. You’ve been evasive enough to answer the question on if you kissed him or not for us.” She said with an adorable scrunch to her eyebrows. It was obvious she was stung but didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.

A loud clap of thunder sounded outside of the car, mirroring Anne’s emotions perfectly. Oh, how she wished she were a storm cloud sometimes. Floating above it all, no care in the world. No expectations except for that of releasing their torrential rage on unsuspecting passers-by. Perhaps if that were her, she wouldn’t have gotten herself in such a messy situation.

She watched as the windshield wipers slapped at the front window, avoiding looking her friends in their eyes. “How far are we from the school?” she grumbled. Though it was certainly going to be a tough task in it’s own, it would be better than sitting under the excruciating scrutiny of the three girls she was trapped in the small car with.

Diana cleared her throat. “Just another block,” she said.

“If you want me to make sure Josie stays off your back today, I need to have the details.” Jane stated simply.

Anne ground her teeth at the annoying tenacity of her friend. “There aren’t any.”

“There aren’t any? ”

“That’s what I said.”

“How could there possibly not be—“

“Jane!” Anne snapped, teeth gnashing out like that of a caged dog’s, “Just drop it!”

There was a stunned silence for a moment as Jane snapped her mouth shut. No other sound but the constant pattering of the rain against the windows and the quiet hum of the radio. In the rearview mirror, Diana exchanged a sympathetic look with Anne.

“Fine,” Jane said finally, a cool resolve in her brown eyes, “But just because you hate Gilbert doesn’t mean everyone else does. If I can’t get the answer from you, I’ll just ask him.”

Anne stiffened—every muscle in her body pulling taut as she fought the urge to strike out with her constant weapon of choice: words.

Gilbert wouldn’t sell her out… would he? Not when he himself was riding on the possibility of a public relationship saving face.

God, would pretending to date him actually work? Could they even do it? Could she do it? Certainly he’d do something to piss her off. Something that would cause her to lash out and make it obvious that they were not, and would never actually be, in a relationship.

The thoughts tormented her as Diana pulled the car into the student parking lot. As she parked in her normal spot near the entrance. As she turned off the engine and they were swallowed by the sound of the falling rain. How fitting to see that Mother Nature bore such a pitiful mood—gray clouds swirling in the sky the very same way Anne’s feelings were swirling in her head.

As her friends giggled amongst themselves—already having moved on to the next subject of interest and opening their car doors—she took a shaking deep breath. Steeling herself against whatever the day might throw at her and clambering out of the car into sheets of cold rain.

+++

When the lunch bell rang, releasing students from their third period classes, Anne’s relief was as palpable as a cool wave crashing against a hot sandy shore. She gathered her things hastily—stuffing them into her bag and barely zipping it back up before hurrying from her calculus class and out into the crowded hallway.

She had very little want of being left in the classroom with a certain tall, dark, and tousled boy. And since that was how things normally went—since Anne and Gilbert were usually the last two left in the classroom, quickly scrawling the last of their work out on the worksheets before them—her rush to leave the confines of the classroom wasn’t without warrant.

Not for the first time since being acquainted with Gilbert Blythe, Anne cursed the fact that they shared a fair amount of classes. (Or unfair if you’d asked her.) But this day… This day had taken her dislike to an entirely different level.

Or maybe dislike wasn’t the correct word for the churning she felt in her stomach every time she’d caught a glimpse of his disheveled dark curls across the room. Maybe awkwardness was the proper noun with which to describe the tension she felt pulled taut between them. If she could even assume it was a reciprocated tension in the first place, that is. She certainly felt it—choking the air around her like a thick and unwanted layer of dust. But… Gilbert hadn’t necessarily shown any discomfort at the sight of her. He’d backed off on making his usual snide comments or witty remarks, yes, but she wasn’t positive that it was because he was playing an angle or if he genuinely thought it better to leave her alone.

Nevertheless, it made Anne’s gut twist uncomfortably. And because the whole school seemed to already know what had transpired the previous afternoon, she loathed to even look in his direction let alone exchange their usual haughty comments. She had, in not so many words, been avoiding him for the entirety of the school day—ducking out of shared classes with all the speed of a bulleting train and keeping her line of vision pinned straight ahead even when she felt his warm honey gaze settle on the side of her face.

This, of course, did not escape the notice of her ever so nosy classmates. In fact, the fervent silence between the two known rivals after such an unexpected public display of affection had only caused an even deeper upset among her peers. Anne liked to think she had learned to never underestimate the might of a small town’s grape vine, but she certainly hadn’t expected such… such backlash from one simple spontaneous moment in time.

To walk through the hallways of her familiar high school and notice the boisterous noise of groups dwindle around her felt much like her early days in Avonlea—except this time, instead of having smacked the town’s golden boy with a heavy textbook, she’d kissed him. And apparently that warranted an even more uproarious reaction.

Anne pushed through the crowd of students and scrambled to her locker—head down in an attempt to ignore the whispers around her. She’d thought that, after three and a half years, she had moved past the days of being an outcast; past the days of being a subject of interest on nearly every one of her classmate’s tongues.

Apparently she’d been wrong. All this time they’d only been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the precise moment she did anything out of the ordinary, so that they could pounce.

As she exchanged binders and textbooks with what had been stacked neatly in her locker, she was so thoroughly enveloped in her own vortex of thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the tall and skinny figure approach her.

“Anne,” the figure said. And despite the familiar trill of the voice, she startled, nearly slamming her fingers in the locker as she’d closed it.

“Dammit, Cole,” she hissed, but there was a smile beneath it.

She turned to her friend, a feeling of ease settling on her shoulders as it always had around Cole Mackenzie. He was leaning against the lockers with his hands wrung loosely around the straps of his backpack and his familiar blue eyes were warm with affection. After a moment, Anne realized there was a dark smudge just under his right eye—more than likely a result of wiping at his face after working with charcoal or graphite. A quick glance at his smeared hands confirmed just as much.

“You’ve got art on your face,” she said, gesturing at her own as a way to show him.

He released a breathy laugh before using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it off. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner, I got caught up in class.”

Anne snorted despite herself. “Sure you did,” she said. “Keep acting like you weren’t flirting with that new exchange student.” She twisted her mouth into a feigned look of utter despair, “You left me to the wolves.”

Cole laughed as she schooled her features back to their normal, friendly state and swung her bag around her shoulder. She entwined her hand with his as they made their way in the direction of the cafeteria.

He fixed her with a faux imperious look. “I was only showing Gabriel the precise way of shading. Charcoal is a difficult medium to work with.”

“Don’t tell me,” Anne lowered her voice, acting as though what she was about to say was an absolute scandal, “You stood behind him and guided his hand with your own, heart pounding against his back as he leaned into you.” She caught at her chest with her free hand, “Oh, how romantic! ” she squealed, much louder than she’d meant to. A few students looked in their direction.

An exasperated laugh burst from her friend’s lips and he squeezed her hand lightly. “Not so loud, Anne.”

She shrugged. “People are gay, Cole. They can get over it.”

Cole wasn’t necessarily closeted. It was a pretty well-known fact within their friend group that he was very much homosexual—you have one conversation with him and he just couldn’t hold back his flamboyancy— but the world was still filled with small-minded bigots. And in a small town like the one they lived in, it was easier just to keep the knowledge of his sexual preference to a minimum.

“I suppose this means our vow to marry one another is broken,” she continued forlornly. It was a joking promise they’d made to one another when they were fifteen and certain they’d be deemed outcasts forever—no one but each other to lean on.

Of course, she’d had Diana. Beautiful Diana. But there were many things Anne experienced that her beloved best friend just couldn’t understand. Diana was popular, beautiful, a glittering star among the backdrop of the night sky—something with which Anne found little to no relatability being the scrawny ostracized girl that she was. But Cole’s friendship allowed a quiet solace; a person who knew what it was like to feel unwanted and unpopular.

Cole snorted. “You broke it first,” he said, “What do Gilbert Blythe’s lips feel like?”

Anne nearly tripped over her own two feet, having briefly forgotten the mess she’d gotten herself into. She snapped her head to look at the tall boy beside her and fixed him with a desperate glare. The look on his face was nonchalant, but she knew he was dying with curiosity.

“Why’d you have to bring that up?” she said, unable to help the whiny tone that had weaved itself into her words.

Cole clucked his tongue. “You left me on read last night. You deserve it.”

“I think I’ve gotten punishment enough,” she replied, a frown twisting at her lips. “It’s all anybody can talk about when they see me.”

He looked at her. “Anne. You kissed Gilbert Blythe . ”

“Yes, I know what I did.”

“Gilbert. Blythe.”

Anne unlatched her hand from Cole’s and threw her arms up exasperatedly. “Can people stop saying his name as if I don’t know who he is!?”

They turned down a slightly less crowded hallway, taking a shortcut they’d found halfway through their freshman year. “Can you stop brushing it off like it’s no big deal?”

“It isn’t a big deal.” Anne grumbled.

He ignored her. “How’d it happen anyway?”

There was a tearing feeling in her stomach—indecision on if she should tell him the truth of the matter or not. The small part of her brain that was hung on Gilbert’s earlier suggestion rioted at her to choose not.

It won. “It just—happened. Okay?”

Cole screwed his nose up. “What does that even mean? ” he said. “What, did you just randomly see him and say ‘fuck it, I’mma give into the three years of overwhelming sexual tension’ and decide to eat his face off?”

Anne blanched at him, stopping dead walk in the middle of the hallway. “Sexual tension?” she sputtered. “Have you been talking to Jane?”

Cole released a light laugh at the expression on her face. “No, but I’m not surprised she feels the same way. Everybody does.”

“I hate it here.” Anne said sadly, mouth turning down at one corner. What a piteous thing to confuse hatred with sexual desire. Because certainly— certainly —Cole and Jane were wrong. There was absolutely no sexual tension between her and Gilbert Blythe. None whatsoever. And she was positive in the fact that there never would be.

“Drama queen.”

“How observant of you,” Anne replied, beginning to make her way down the hallway again. “It’s as if we’re friends. Almost like you know me.”

Her blonde companion snorted, but followed after her.

“Apparently not,” he continued vexingly. “Not if you’re sucking face with Gilbert frickin’ Blythe.”

“Cole, I love you, I really do. But if you don’t shut up right this very moment, I will not hesitate to murder you.”

“Anne—“

“I’m serious,” she said, “I live on a farm—lots of sharp tools at my disposal, Mackenzie. Don’t push me.”

He laughed—a short and exasperated release of breath. “Has anybody ever told you you’re kinda scary when you want to be?”

She glanced over to where he was matching her stride beside her, smiling crookedly and impishly.

Cole’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Please don’t flash me your murder eyes. It gives me the creeps.”

Reaching across the space between them with her arm, she patted his shoulder lightly. “Good.”

They lapsed into casual conversation then, walking quickly the rest of the way to the cafeteria and occasionally bumping each other’s shoulders teasingly. She really did appreciate Cole, she decided. Well, she’d always appreciated him—but unlike the rest of her companions, he never pushed her to talk about the things he knew she was most uncomfortable with. Teased her relentlessly maybe—okay, certainly —but he always, always, knew when enough was enough.

As they passed through the metal-doored threshold of Avonlea High’s sorry excuse for a cafeteria, (even their library was larger than the sparsely decorated area—hardly even eight long tables adorning the length of the walls and smaller rounded ones few and far between) Anne startled at the absolute terror she was faced with.

Being such a small school, the majority of the senior class was pushed into the same lunch schedule. Meaning all the kids she’d grown with for the past few years—all the classmates that knew most definitely about Anne’s adamant hatred towards one Gilbert Blythe—paused fractionally when they noticed her fiery mane out of the corners of their eyes.

Anne’s heart rate kicked up, stomach twisting painfully as the cafeteria quieted ever so slightly and heads swiveled to gawk at her.

She felt Cole’s hand squeeze hers. “Christ,” he mumbled beside her. “They really don’t have any lives do they.”

She snorted, eased slightly by his encouraging and easy-going presence. “Our school doesn’t even have a total of five-hundred students. This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened since you showed sophomore year and Billie Andrews made it his mission to torment you.”

Her friend winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“Shit, sorr—“

“Anne!”

The breath that had frozen in Anne’s chest upon realizing the upset she’d caused when first entering the cafeteria thawed the rest of the way at the familiar cadence of Diana’s voice. She could see her friend’s veil of dark hair, her infectious smile big and bright as she stood from their usual table tucked in the far corner of the room. The rest of her friends, still sitting, waved to her gregariously.

Friends, Anne reminded herself. Those are your friends and not even the disastrous evening before and whatever trouble Gilbert Blythe insights next can take them away from you.

She felt a warm smile tug at her lips as she moved toward the familiar corner, pulling Cole behind her as she went. But as she got closer, doubt crept into her mind. She saw the nervous glances Tillie, Jane and Ruby exchanged with one another—however miniscule they might have tried to make them seem. The scrunch of Diana’s nose, bringing her hand down from her enthusiastic wave and rubbing at a non-existent itch. Anne recognized it immediately as her bosom friend’s nervous tick.

Her steps slowed as she approached the table, nearly causing Cole to stumble into her from where he’d been following behind. Josie Pye—she was sitting straight backed, arms folded across her chest and an accusing glare flashing in her blue eyes.

Oh no.

Now this— this was the part she’d forgotten all about. Josephine Pye and her ridiculous aversion to amiable conversation. Her insufferable adamance on making Anne’s existence appear as a show for all the school to see. Josie fancied herself a puppet master, tugging at the strings on Anne’s back from the very first moment they’d met. And though a tedious friendship had developed between the two over the last few years, some things just never changed.

“Hey,” Anne squeaked out, instantly noticing how guilty she already sounded. She winced, sat stiffly on the stool across from her friends.

Cole rolled his eyes and plopped down beside her, shoved his bookbag towards the end of the table and folded his artist hands in front of him as he leveled Josie with a shockingly protective gaze.

“There will be absolutely no mentions of a certain happening with a certain someone taking place at a certain time yesterday afternoon, got it?” His voice left no room for discussion.

Diana nodded eagerly, reaching across the table and giving Anne a sympathetic squeeze of the hand. Jane pursed her lips, obviously wanting to say something, anything, about the unfinished conversation the girls had all had in the car that morning—but seemed to think better of it. Tillie and Ruby, always the more soft spoken of the group, simply sat quietly, glancing between Cole and Josie, the latter of which had narrowed her eyes in an obvious challenge.

The blonde grenade snapped her eyes to Anne instead. “I think that—“

“No.” Anne said icily, surprising herself. She’d never been one to overtly challenge Josie. But after dealing with Royal Gardner and Gilbert Blythe and every single pair of eyes that had followed and judged and questioned her all morning, she’d had enough.

She cleared her throat, “No,” she tried again, less hostile this time. “We will not be discussing the kiss because it’s my business and I owe absolutely nobody an explanation.”

“Periodt,” chimed Cole, snapping his fingers. Diana giggled, attempting to smother it with her hand but failing rather obviously.

Tillie’s eyes had turned wide as saucers. “So it’s true? You and Gilbert kissed?”

“Of course it’s true, I saw it with my own two eyes.” Josie snapped, “And obviously—“

“Josie, Anne literally just said we weren’t discussing it.” Diana huffed. It was the most annoyed Anne had ever seen her act with Josie—it made her want to tackle her best friend in a hug. “Please just drop the subject, okay? If she wants to explain herself then she will.”

“Must I repeat myself?” Cole raised an eyebrow at the blonde dragon across from him who was just barely containing the angry smoke Anne was sure to pore from her nostrils.

“Please,” replied Jane, amused.

“Periodt!” And he gave another flamboyant snap of his fingers.

Josie rolled her eyes imperiously. “You guys are dumb,” she said to the snickering gaggle of girls beside her, then she faced Anne again. “Look, I’m not one to really care all that much about your romantic life—“

Cole opened his mouth to protest but without even glancing his way, Josie cut herself off and snapped, “Shut it, Mackenzie.”

He raised his hands in the universal sign of defeat.

“But as your friend,” loosely Anne had to bite back from commenting as Josie continued, “I worry about what this means for your… reputation.”

“Oh, for the love of god, Josephine Pye. We’re in high school, not running for the frickin’ electoral college. I promise you, me kissing somebody is not that deep.”

Did any of them have lives?

A throat cleared beside her—Cole’s. “I mean,” he said quietly, “it kind of is when you’ve vowed to hate said kissee for the rest of your days. ‘So long as you bring air into your lungs’ I believe were your exact words.”

Anne snapped her head over to her traitorous friend, one who’d not moments ago was just defending her.

“Whose side are you on?”

“The gays,” he said solemnly. And then, upon seeing Anne’s unamused look, “Joking, joking—I mean, not joking obviously, but… Look, Anne. As overdramatic as Josie is being—“ said girl harrumphed impertinently, “—Everybody and their mother knows how much you hate Gilbert. I’ll fight tooth and nail for you, girl, but this whole situation is questionable in the least.”

“I just want you to know,” began Anne, “How much I hate all of you right now, nevermind Gilbert.”

“Hey!” Tillie protested, “I haven’t done a single thing besides ask if the rumor was true in the first place.”

“Tillie Boulter with-holding.”

Jane opened her mouth, “I—“

“You’re on thin fuckin’ ice, Jane Andrews.”

Anne was so incredibly and entirely tired of this entire situation. So much for not talking about it… God, she should just out and admit the reasoning already. Clear the air, make sure that everybody knew it was a farce. A ploy to get Roy Gardner to finally leave her alone.

Who was she kidding anyway? Even entertaining the idea that Gilbert had planted in her head earlier that morning was absolute insanity. Them? Dating? Imagine the uproar then. If her classmates were so nosy as to be absolutely entranced by the fact that they simply kissed, imagine if they announced they were dating .

Oh dearest Snow Queen, she asked of her longest comfort, What would you do?

She set her jaw then, determining it was time to come clean. “Listen, guys. Gilbert and I didn’t actually—“

“Anne?”

She froze. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take a single breath for what felt like a solid thirty seconds. Her friends all startled to look behind her, Cole craning his neck to meet the gaze of probably the absolute last person Anne wanted to see right then.

“Roy!” Diana chirped with false cheer. Her eyes flit between Anne and the monstrous cad that stood behind her, betraying the panic she felt on behalf of her best friend. “I thought you had B lunch?”

Anne refused to turn around, still frozen as she watched, horrified, as all her friends looked at each other confused and curious.

“Well, I did. But the adviser decided to switch some of my classes around. She thought it would be best if I stayed with the rest of the senior class even if British academia didn’t quite meet up with American—Anne, are you trying to hide?”

She was, she totally, full-heartedly was. She’d sunk into herself, almost as if she were trying to allow the lunch table to swallow her whole.

“Anne, sit up ,” Josie hissed at her. Was she—god, was she batting her eyelashes at the boy behind her? The boy in which Anne could very clearly feel inching closer to her with every second she didn’t acknowledge him?

She took a deep breath, turned around in her seat finally for fear that he might reach out and touch her, place his disgustingly delicate and nimble hand on her shoulder. “Roy,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hullo.” Roy replied, probably smiling in a way he thought was enormously charming. “Your dress is quite beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the one wearing it, I might say. Almost .”

Oh, for the love of all that is good and— He was insufferable. Anger, white hot and immediate bubbled in her blood.

“What do you want?” She said, rather bluntly. Cole elbowed her in the arm, shot her a confused look. I’ll explain later, she hoped her face portrayed to him.

Diana, ever the mediator, cleared her throat. “Royal. These are my friends. Tillie, Ruby, Jane, Josie, and Cole.” Cole watched him hesitantly, the girls all exchanged giddy glances. “Of course, you already know Anne.”

“How could I ever forget.”

Anne had to resist the urge to feign a gag.

“Anyways. Guys, this is my cousin Royal.”

“Roy. Call me Roy,” he said. But he didn’t even glance at them, his eyes were trained solely on Anne’s. And Anne rather wanted to punch him in his obnoxiously pert nose.

“It’s nice to meet you, Roy—“ Ruby had begun, but the miscreant cut her off, paying sweet Ruby no attention.

“Anne, I was hoping we might talk?”

Anne clenched her jaw, fought to keep from squeezing her eyes closed in exasperation at the sheer audacity Roy had to even ask that of her.

Right. This was why she’d entertained Gilbert’s plan. This was why she had desperately kissed him. Because Royal Gardner had no boundaries and despite being related to her best and closest friend, every moment spent in his presence was a moment she knew she’d never get back.

“Talk,” she said stiffly. She stood up, grabbed a confused Cole’s hand and yanked him up beside her. “But make it fast because Cole and I still haven’t had a chance to get in the lunch line.”

“I am… so confused.” Anne heard one of the girls say behind her. Diana shushed her.

“Privately? Perhaps?”

She was seriously going to punch this boy in the face. Like, actually. Right there in front of everybody.

“Privately?” Anne snapped coldly, her fury like fire in her veins. She stepped around him, cornered him to the table, making sure her back was to the rest of the cafeteria. Too many rumors were already circulating around her. If she caused a scene, lord knew she’d never come back from it. “Are you joking?”

She saw Cole step back from the corner of her eye, scuttle to the other side of the cafeteria table with the girls. All their eyes were wide and unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Anne, there’s no need for such hostility. I was just trying to—“

“Deliberately make her uncomfortable?” a new voice chimed in from behind her. There was an unrecognizable hardness to it, incongruous to all of the other times she had heard it before. Across from her, her friends' eyes widened impossibly, gazes landing on the new addition to the already intolerable conversation.

Anne could feel as all the eyes in the cafeteria turned toward them, a sure spectacle to behold.

She watched as Roy’s jaw hardened, eyes trained behind her with a new intensity as he tracked the movements of Gilbert Blythe lazily sidling up beside Anne.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting,” Gilbert said as he threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders. She had to fight to keep from stiffening up, knew what he was doing, knew exactly what game he was playing at as he pulled her closer to his side and tucked her neatly beneath his arm. And while her blood boiled at his intrusion, at the audacity he had to come running in like he thought he was some god-awful knight-in-shining-armor, at the way her friends’ expressions all changed immediately—all smirking and knowing and not nearly as surprised as she thought they’d be—the smallest part of her was relieved.

Relieved.

Like she’d still been gunning for that stupid, ludicrous plan that Gilbert had blabbered on about that very morning to actually work. Which in itself was most positively and unmitigatedly not going to happen in a million—

“Right. Is this him then?” The accusation in Roy’s voice broke Anne from her spiraling thoughts, solidifying the situation she was in. There, in front of all of her friends and essentially the entire senior class, she was facing off with one of the most impudent males she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And, lord above, Gilbert Blythe of all people was the only person with the ability to make Roy leave her alone.

“Just a few months.” His words pinged around in her mind, “We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again .”

She scowled, resisting the urge to fidget beneath Gilbert’s arm. The heat radiating from his body where their sides were pressed flush together was rather difficult to ignore. She felt as though she could feel it fuse with her blood, travel through her veins and warm her cheeks, her toes, clog up her lungs.

“Is this who?” Anne replied, her scowl deepening.

“The boyfriend. The reason I can’t pursue you… or so you say.”

A choking sound came from her group of friends, though she absolutely refused to look in their direction. She was positive that the fire she felt across her cheeks no longer had anything to do with Gilbert’s body heat.

Roy raised a single brow when she opened her mouth, snapped it back shut immediately—a fish floundering on dry land. Gilbert’s arm tightened around her shoulder, probably meant to be comforting, reassuring, but it only made her want to elbow him in the side. The mortification leaching any and all relief she’d previously felt by his presence.

“I—uh,” she stuttered. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?

“My god, he broke her,” she heard Cole whisper.

“Anne? You did tell me you had one, right?” Roy’s eyebrow was still raised, the brazen confidence leaking from every pore. She hated him, she decided. Hated him more than the curly haired boy whose arm was wrapped around her and whose current silence felt like a ticking time bomb.

“I did,” she replied, and to her utmost horror it came out weakly.

“As much as I love being talked about as if I’m not standing right here,” Gilbert interjected, and Anne wasn’t sure if he’d noticed it but his thumb had started rubbing tiny comforting circles where it rested on her upper arm, “Anne doesn’t owe you an explanation. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t owe you a damn thing. So whether she has a boyfriend or not—whether I’m that boyfriend or not—is none of your business.”

Woah.

Wait a minute, not woah , what the hell? Had he really said that? Had it really made her heart rate kick up in her chest at the way he’d not only defended her but her right to make her own choices without explanation?

Royal blinked, opened his mouth, closed it. But Gilbert ignored him, turned his head to face Anne. The expression on his face said It’s up to you , the small curve at the corner of his mouth added, Carrots.

She closed her eyes, counted one, two, before opening them back up and meeting Roy’s gaze.

God help her.

“Yeah, Roy,” she said, swallowed thickly, “Gilbert is my boyfriend."

#shirbert #anne with an e #shirbert fanfiction #royalcordelia #my writing

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seerofmike · 4 years ago

Text

The Writing In Apex Kinda Sucks And Also They Use Ship Bait As A Plot Device I Hate It Here

a stupid essay/rant encouraged by @zombiegloss that originally started as a youtube video script so if its like. weird at points. this was intended to be a verbal rant SNZISKSIA

basically i'm gonna talk abt the caustic-wattson-crypto relationship drama and how i think it was mishandled and how much the writers kind of Suck because i Can

you are free to disagree with me on any of my points and think that this aspect of the story was handled well, this is just my opinion, and i'd love to hear your thoughts and counterpoints !

first, addressing some things:

i know this is a battle royale and not necessarily a story-based game, so i can’t expect it to have masterful witcher-style writing.

but with the direction the game seems to be going; putting quests, evolving interactions, and comics in the game, plus coming out with a lore book and hinting at something bigger in the future, i think it’s fair to criticize it for lackluster writing, especially since what i’m criticizing has been something present since Apex’s story technically began.

secondly, i am not a professional writer. i’m a high schooler who writes as a hobby. i don’t have the decades of experience that some of the apex writers do, and i can’t claim to be a better writer than they are--but i also don’t have to be a five-star chef to realize that something tastes bad. when i critique something and give suggestions, i am not saying i could’ve done it better. i’m just bringing up what i think could have worked.

third, before i upset anyone , when i say a relationship is badly written, i’m not telling you that you can’t ship it or that your ship sucks. i’ll briefly touch on the shipping aspect of this and how it’s a detriment to the story but Ye

okay, so with that out of the way, let us Begin

relationships are often the emotional core of a story, and how strong your reaction is to conflict in these relationships depends on how the story sets them up. if you want the audience to care about these characters and what they go through, you need to develop them and establish the type of relationship they have well. it’s why so many people cried in the last episode of telltale’s the walking dead. you’ve spent roughly 12 hours bonding with clementine and protecting her, and your relationship with her is part of several story beats as well as character beats for lee.

when these two characters’ relationship reaches its peak at the end of the game, it’s powerful, and it’s emotional. you care. you feel something, and the fact that you have to choose what to do to lee only makes it more gut-wrenching.

now, the walking dead is entirely story-based and especially character-driven, so it may be unfair to compare it to apex, but i just wanted to lay the groundwork down for what i think is a strong relationship that makes you feel something when conflict arrives, in this case the conflict being lee getting bit and clementine having to decide his fate.

the broken ghost in general is kind of not-good sometimes, tom casiello previously wrote for soap operas and you can really, REALLY tell sometimes.

this story feels like it should’ve taken place a little later, and that we should’ve had a season to actually set up the characters and their relationships, but that’s a story for another day.

to put it bluntly, the set-up for the crypto, wattson, and caustic conflict is done poorly. for caustic and wattson's relationship it’s a little better, but not by much.

wattson and caustic having a relationship was hinted at in season 2, when her lore indicated that caustic was among one of the Legends who comforted her after her father died. In season four lore materials posted on Twitter, an email from Jacob Young states that Caustic is acting paternal towards Wattson. In season five, interactions get added to the Game, and this is the first time we actually see their relationship in action, as they have unique revive voice lines for each other. in the quests, when wattson is injured, caustic lashes out at loba and attacks her out of what seems to be anger at wattson’s current state.

Side Note this plot point was really stupid and done for cheap drama because she literally wakes up like two chapters later and they don’t even give her anything to say it’s just suddenly oh yeah crypto and wattson are working together. the same exact injury thing happens to octane later but nobody gIVES A SHIT because again, it’s just cheap soap opera drama.

their relationship might seem a little bit sudden for anyone who wasn’t on top of twitter lore drops, but like, it’s okay, i guess. i’ll give it the slightest credit for at least establishing something between the two in terms of voice lines and stuff, even if for some it might seem like it came out of nowhere.

what did come out of nowhere, though, was crypto and wattson’s friendship. in the quests, crypto and wattson are tasked with rebuilding the broken ghost because of their respective skills, and they’re seen talking in chapter six while they work on it. we’re not really given a clear timeline on how long the story in the broken ghost is, but i think it takes about a week, maybe.

unlike wattson and caustic, their relationship has been given absolutely zero material to work with before now, not even a passing glance in the trailers--which is a little weird considering crypto took down the repulsor tower and destroyed wattson’s home, but. Whatever.

tl dr of the chapter: crypto and wattson talk to each other while doing nerd shit, crypto laughs at wattson’s bad pun, and then suddenly they’re BESTIEEEES, until a couple dozen lines later in the same chapter. then they’re Not.

crypto’s drone gets hacked by revenant while everyone was kind of on edge after the reveal of a spy in their midst, he gets framed as the spy by caustic, anddddd wattson gets upset.

before i get into how dumb this storyline is, i’m gonna talk about the set-up to this conflict.

we have been given no reason to believe that these characters have ever talked to each other, and quite frankly, their friendship doesn’t really make sense.

ignoring the fact that crypto destroyed wattson’s home--which she probably doesn’t know about, so that’s forgiven for now--crypto is a paranoid guy. in the lore book he makes people stand on fucking footprints in his house so he can scan them for weapons and listening devices, and he apparently doesn’t stick around much after the games and nobody knows anything about him because he doesn’t talk to them.

a key part of crypto’s story is the fact that he is undercover and afraid of anyone finding out anything about him ever. him becoming friends with wattson kind of comes out of the blue, and we’re not even given a reason as to why they supposedly became close in the first place. i would kind of understand if like, maybe he draws parallels with her and mila in his mind and it makes him open up a little more, but that doesn’t happen. he just laughs at her joke and suddenly they’re friends.

maybe they’re trying to go for this ‘wattson can become friends with anybody’ angle, kind of hinted at with caustic but not really we’ll get into that, but that also? kind of doesn’t make sense since so many of her voice lines straight-up say she doesn’t understand people and electricity is more her thing, but honestly, she also does have those really friendly elements in her voice lines too, so its not as egregious as what they did with crypto.

their sudden out-of-the-blue friendship would’ve been fine if they spent a little more time fleshing it out, and giving us something to work with, but instead, the story immediately tries to rip it apart and frame it as this grand conflict where crypto is framed as the mole, crypto then accuses caustic, and wattson feels betrayed.

except it doesn’t really work, because we don’t give a shit. for several reasons.

one: crypto and wattson became friends and then ended their friendship in the same exact chapter. they did not speak to each other onscreen until this chapter began, you can read the entire quest on the wiki and see for yourself that their interactions up until that point were nonexistent aside from mentions in the narration that they were building something together.

the reason wattson feels betrayed is kind of stupid too. why does she really care that much if one of them betrayed loba? nobody else really cared about the fact that one of them was a spy, in fact, nobody even seems to like loba that much, and they just found out that loba’s been lying to them this whole time, and wattson was conscious for that conversation and had a speaking line, so she’s fully aware of the situation.

maybe it’s just like, the idea that one of them lied, but that’s still kind of a weak reason.

this entire betrayal thing is just dumb, and it gets even worse when you realize that there could have been an actual legitimate reason for wattson to feel betrayed by crypto--even if it still would’ve come across as weak conflict because of their newly established friendship, it would’ve made more sense than this.

Crypto destroyed Wattson’s home. He took down the tower and then all the flyers and stuff invaded Kings Canyon and made it their bitch. Not only that, but Wattson considers the Syndicate her family. The Syndicate are the very people who framed Crypto for murder and he’s trying to take them down.

They could’ve set up actual conflict with these things, and it almost seemed like they would, because Caustic briefly brings up that Crypto could be working with Revenant because he has something against the Syndicate but then that doesn’t really go anywhere and we’re just back to Wattson feeling betrayed because either Crypto or Caustic was a spy and she doesn’t know who.

Weak conflict could’ve been made better by a strong relationship and a weak relationship could’ve still been interesting with strong conflict, but both the relationship between Crypto and Wattson and the conflict that drives them splitting up as friends were really weak and didn’t make much sense.

It would’ve been ten times more interesting if Wattson found out Crypto ruined her home, the arena she grew up in, and was now participating in the Games to take out the people she regards as her family. That’s where her distrust could’ve manifested and conflict could’ve began, but instead it was the stupid betraying loba thing. why do you care. you just started talking to this guy like 2 hours ago.

also caustic’s whole reason for framing crypto feels stupid as fuck. he didn’t just frame crypto randomly, he framed him specifically because he doesn't want him to influence wattsob because he likes her Big Brain, but this is the FIRST time we have seen those two interact.

what influence is he talking about? wraith and wattson have been shown to be friendly with each other in the trailers, according to tom’s tweets, and in the story too so why doesn’t he frame her? at this point the audience had slightly more build-up for those two’s relationship than crypto and wattson and a betrayal storyline would’ve felt a little more deserved if still weak.

this is the point where i briefly want to touch upon shipping, and the fact that part of this conflict feels driven by shipbait.

aside from their relationship coming out of nowhere and the writers trying to make the stakes seem high and deeply emotional to the characters involved (despite this essentially being the first time they’ve ever interacted) tom casiello literally addresses shippers in a tweet regarding chapter seven, and as the story between these characters progresses, it becomes clear to me, at least that the crypto-wattson thing is just bait for shippers, and it’s lazy.

it’s easy to get away with giving your characters little to no relationship development if you’re just counting on shippers to do the heavy mental lifting for you

why should i put any effort into making this relationship seem believable? people are going to see a young guy and a young girl having bare minimum interaction and assume there’s romantic interest! then i don’t have to do any work, see look, it’s a ready-made relationship wrapped in a bow for me! all that’s left for me to do is give them conflict so i can keep teasing shippers with lines like ‘you never deserved her’!

i think it’s reasonable for me to suspect shipbait, since tom casiello likes doing darksparks shipbait on twitter, and i’m like, eighty percent sure mirage and bloodhound suddenly being childhood friends in the book is shipbait too, because these characters were the number one ship in apex for a long time despite little to no interaction, and then all of a sudden in the lore book they’re childhood friends despite this literally never being mentioned before?

like bloodhound is set up to be mysterious and nobody knows what they look like, or where they’re from, or who their family is--except for mirage Apparently, who played with them when he was a kid on their home planet, and has seen them with their mask off, because bloodhound did not wear a mask when their parents were still alive.

its weird.

i’m pretty sure they’ve said somewhere they were working on this book before apex even came out, so i could just be completely wrong and they always planned for mirage and bloodhound to know each other, but if that’s the case, why did they never mention it like they did octane and lifeline?

i refuse to believe MIRAGE never brought it up either like ‘heeeeyy bloodhound remember when we used to throw eggs at our parents lab haha wanna go do to that to bangalore’s room’

[silence]

‘good talk buddy’

ANYWAYS I GOT OFF TOPIC. POINT IS, shipping is a detriment to the story because the writers don’t feel like they actually have to put any work into establishing or developing the relationship between characters when they know the community’s just going to do it for them anyways, and that they can put in shipbait and it’s fine and it makes sense when it really doesn’t.

imagine watching captain america civil war after not seeing a single other marvel movie.

why would you care about the avengers splitting up or tony and steve butting heads or steve’s commitment to bucky? you wouldn’t care, at least not as much as someone who’s seen all the movies and knows the relationship between the characters and why the sokovia accords exist in the first place. you don’t have context and you don’t have any reason to be emotionally invested in these characters’ relationship.

this feels like that. the writers tried to squeeze this relationship and stuff into a single chapter and we don’t fucking care unless we were already invested in the idea of their relationship (shippers) because we barely spent any time with it.

so to summarize this little section, the set-up of this storyline Kinda Sucks! crypto and wattson barely seem to know each other, because we the audience barely saw them together and the writers are relying on shipbait in place of a relationship.

wattson and caustic are a little better but not great, but the conflict is stupid and it only gets stupider.

moving onto summarizing the rest of the broken ghost, gibraltar and caustic talk, caustic LITERALLY confesses to being the mole and says he framed crypto so he couldn’t corrupt wattson and to appear innocent because his identity was suspected, then that wraps up the season storyline.

season six begins with new voice lines, where wattson has had enough of crypto and caustic’s shit and is all passive-aggressive and going ‘this doesn’t change anything’. she has to decide who to trust, and how to figure out The Truth for herself because she’s not a little girl anymore. crypto and caustic are both trying to convince her they’re innocent and it creates some interesting conflict.

just kidding. it’s terrible conflict. you want to know why?

BECAUSE GIBRALTAR TRIED TO TELL HER THE TRUTH, RIGHT AFTER THE SEASON 5 QUEST HAPPENED, AND SHE LITERALLY REFUSED TO HEAR IT.

LIKE THERE’S A SEASON 6 LOADING SCREEN WHERE HE’S TELLING EVERYONE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHEN HE GETS TO WATTSON AND IS LIKE HEY I KNOW WHO THE MOLE WAS AND WHY THEY DID IT, SHE JUST GOES i dont wanna hear it. i need to think

IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH WHY ARE YOU REFUSING TO HEAR IT

SHE SPENDS ALMOST TWO ENTIRE SEASONS MAD AT CRYPTO FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO BECAUSE SHE TOLD GIBRALTAR TO FUCK OFF WHEN HE TRIED TO TELL HER WHAT HAPPENED

ITS SO DUMB

i think it was towards the end of season 6 or the beginning of season 7 where apex posted this picture of wattson asleep at her desk where she has a letter from gibraltar on it that looks like it tells her the truth, so she knows now, she knows what happened, but NOW her issue is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about crypto.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT IS YOUR GODDAMN DAMAGE. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT BLOODHOUND EITHER ARE YOU THIS UPSET WITH BLOODHOUND TOO?? HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO PATHFINDER. DO YOU HATE PATHFINDER TOO

oh but she was friends with crypto and now she’s mad that he lied to her EXCEPT THEIR RELATIONSHIP WASN’T BUILT UP WELL SO IT JUST FEELS STUPID. THEY SPENT LONGER BEING NOT-FRIENDS THAN THEY SPENT BEING FRIENDS. THEY BECAME FRIENDS IN ONE CHAPTER AND THEN IMMEDIATELY AT THE END OF THAT CHAPTER THEIR FRIENDSHIP ENDED AND THEN WATTSON SPENT LIKE 2 SEASONS MAD AT HIM FOR SOMETHING HE DIDN’T DO .

AND THE WRITERS TRIED TO RECTIFY THIS BY SAYING OH SHE’S NOT MAD ABOUT THE TRAITOR THING SHE’S MAD BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM AND IT’S LIKE WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT MAKE THAT CLEAR WHY DOES SHE SAY ‘IT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU DID’ IN HER VOICE LINES WHY DOES SHE CALL HIM A TRAITOR IF HER CONFLICT WAS HER NOT KNOWING MUCH ABOUT HIM . WHAT DID HE DO.

HE JUST STOOD THERE AND LAUGHED AT HER JOKE AND THEN HE GOT FRAMED AND THEN THAT WAS THE END OF THE CHAPTER AND NOW SHES SUDDENLY LIKE IM ACTUALLY MAD BECAUSE YOURE A LIAR AND I CANT TRUST YOU EVEN THOUGH I NOW KNOW YOU WERE FRAMED I STILL DO NOT LIKE YOU AND HES LIKE YEAH THATS MY FAULT

The Caustic voicelines are stupid too, again his reason for framing Crypto was stupid and a lot of his voicelines just seem to be that shipbait thing again but like from the angle of overprotective dad who doesn’t like the new boyfriend. it’s stupid but not as egeregious as this next part which is

crypto telling wattson his identity.

CRYPTO was framed for MURDER and is paranoid and can’t trust anyone and doesn’t talk to anyone and the last time he did talk to someone he got framed for Another thing and the person he was talking to turned her back on him and actively refused to know the truth for like 2 seasons and then he went This Is Fine I Can Tell Her My Identity

the stupidest update to this storyline was crypto telling wattson the truth

why did they do it on the dropship where there are presumably syndicate members and other legends around.

why didn’t he scan wattson for listening devices like he did for pathfinder in the book.

why is he telling her his identity when he knows she has very close ties to the people that FRAMED HIM for MURDER. Does he trust her that much? WHY? They spoke to each other in a chapter and then spent two seasons not talking to each other beyond passive-aggressive BS. why are you so fucking stupid taejoon

their relationship was so poorly set-up that even if the writers maybe intended for them to come across as close friends who had spent weeks bonding, it really feels like they became friends in a single conversation, had a falling out, and now crypto suddenly trusts her with his identity after an undetermined amount of time because he wants to be friends again.

that does not make SENSE this conflict feels contrived AS FUCK and the resolution feels even worse and unearned UGGGHHHH

it honestly comes across as crypto feeling desperate for friendship, and maybe this would’ve worked better if that’s the angle they played it as.

he’s been alone for roughly two years, and just wants a friend, and he’s honestly so lonely he just breaks down to the first person who’s really talked to him. it could’ve been an interesting little part of his character, and they could've gone into depth about how much this situation has affected him, but that’s not what they’re doing. he’s still paranoid and anxious and doesn’t trust anyone, except for wattson, because the plot needs him to or else there won’t be any stupid soap opera drama.

and to rub salt in the wound, wattson’s new voice lines with caustic have him telling her that she forgave crypto.

WHAT ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR. ARE YOU FORGIVING HIM FOR BEING FRAMED? WHY DID HE HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU WHEN YOU WERE THE ONE WHO REFUSED TO HEAR THE TRUTH?

did the conversation just go hey my real name is taejoon park and something bad happened to me and she went aight i forgive you WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

Caustic’s new voice lines to Crypto where he’s like ‘what did you tell her’--YOU TOLD GIBRALTAR STRAIGHT-UP YOUR EVIL MASTER PLAN LIKE A SUPERVILLAIN AND NOW YOU’RE SURPRISED WATTSON AND CRYPTO ARE ON GOOD TERMS NOW?!

THAT’S LIKE TELLING SOMEONE YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER AND THEN BEING SURPRISED WHEN YOU BECOME THE VICTIM OF IDENTITY FRAUD. YOU SET YOURSELF UP FOR THIS WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE CRYPTO DID SOMETHING SINISTER OR LIED OR WHATEVER. WHAT THE FUCK. WHY DO YOU HAVE LIKE 3 BRAINCELLS

this is at like ten pages already so i’m going to just try and wrap this up quickly.

it’s frustrating seeing this storyline play out when there are actually good relationships and storylines written into apex. i’m kind of getting tired of the loba and revenant conflict, but we at least had set-up to it in the form of a few animated shorts and it doesn’t play out as stupidly as this story does. bangalore and loba’s friendship is actually developed well, even if the point between the end of season 5 and season 6 where they suddenly talk like each other feels like it could’ve used a little more.

where crypto and wattson having an established friendship in the broken ghost failed, lifeline and octane’s established friendship works because we’ve been told since octane’s release they were childhood friends and given lore materials that indicate they’ve known each other for a very long time.

apex wants this storyline between crypto and wattson and caustic to feel dramatic and tense and ultimately rewarding when crypto and wattson did become friends for real and stuff, but instead it just comes across as hollow and empty.

there’s nothing there. it’s a case of tell, don’t show, and it looks like this stupid conflict is gonna keep going for another couple of seasons at this rate.

side note: this entire script was written before the new twitter comics

please tell me ur thoughts and feel free to respond with ur own lil essay

also believe it or not this is not the "shipping is a detriment to apex's story" essay i was gonna write this is a completely different essay that has some overlap SKXISOSOW

#apex legends #apex critical #crypto #wattson

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tomb-bloom-noctem · 4 years ago

Note

Were there any episodes in season 3 where you felt they could've been written better? I'm only asking because I had some ideas I wanted to share with people about fixing them since, to me, the season started becoming a mess around The Phantom and the Sorceress. And the episodes don't need to be outright bad, there could just be parts in it you didn't like.

Oof. I've been a bit loud and obnoxious about certain episodes for sure 😅 I'll try to briefly sum up a few.

Also I'm just gonna say, some of these are just I don't like what they did rather than any huge fundamental problems like the finale.

Also disclaimer. This is not an attack on anyone who likes these episodes! Nobody has to agree with me! If you like these episodes cool! Glad you got something out of it! This is just Tombs being a nit pick loud mouth.

Rumble for Ragnarok

I can't complain too much about this one as it was still entertaining. Norse is part of my heritage and I'm a fan of the mythology which was on full display this episode. My only real issue this episode is that the message gets a little lost at least on me. And then two is I think out of all the episodes this one is the one that could absolutely be thrown out without losing anything really important. Trade this episode for something different. Something more important.

The Forbidden Fountain of the Forever Glades

Scrooge's behavior and leaving Webby in the jungle was painful to watch. (Much as I don't like the finale twist, the twist actually makes this episode worse.) [Also so much for Goldie's "fresh start" when in Split Sword of Swanstitine later showed she once again attempted to double cross Scrooge. Yeah. Fresh start. Totallyyyy.] Goldie is a fun character and I can't hate her too much. The episode has its merits and definitely still think this episode should be around but Scrooge's behavior here really kills me. Thankfully at the end he does better but ugh. It's low on the overall ranking for me based on how he behaves and treats Webby.

New Gods on the Block

I actually really love this episode but Storkules was pissing me off too much 😂 Nit pick for sure. I love this himbo but got dangit he was making me so mad. I get it was kinda important for the overall plot but come on we got so little Donsy content that it was frustrating that he was so intrusive.

The First Adventure

Nit picking again. I think it's kinda random how in the span of a few hours a hard ass like Scrooge went from "my obnoxious niece and nephew" to "my heirs and beloved family." I guess it's possible but not a fan of that kind of writing. For me it would make more sense that they had several adventures or at least more time with them before they became "his heirs" in his eyes. Extreme nit picking on my part though, the episode isn't bad at all really. Also no Hortense and Quackmore. Yes they were named. (Or she was) No we never got to see them. Rude! This was actually a really good episode though overall again I just have some minor nit picks.

The Fight for Castle McDuck

Okay this one is also kind of a nit pick but it's more like based on the episode's timing. I think it is absolutely ridiculous that Webby "Knower of all things Clan McDuck" has no idea that a family of Scots fights a lot. I can somewhat forgive it though as she's young and isn't as familiar with this side of the family in the flesh. But it's so weird how this late into the show we're seeing this?? I think I would have liked this episode more if it had popped up earlier into season 3 rather than so late? It just was a kinda weird episode and not the most enjoyable but the timing I think made it worse. Also the no mention of Hortense again. Referring to Matilda as the youngest when that's supposed to be Hortense? It's really not the worst episode. It just feels a bit off to me and again to me mostly the timing of it. Could have been better, could have been worse.

How Santa Stole Christmas

THROW THIS EPISODE INTO THE FUCKING GARBAGE. HATE HATE HATE IT. THIS ONE ACTUALLY MAKES ME RAGE.

This episode is actually worse for me than the finale. Literally I consider this episode the worst in the series. I just hate it!!!

I hate that this episode was about Scrooge and Santa. I really don't give a fuck why Scrooge hates Santa and this story in no way compelled me. (Also why was Scrooge and Santa's dialog weirdly shippy??? Thanks to this episode got another huge NOtp, "scranta" is gross, sorry, hate it. Absolutely cannot board that ship at all, I have the tag blocked.) I see absolutely no reason why this was the story we got when there was literally an option to follow up The Last Christmas now that Della was finally home????? MISSED OPPORTUNITY!!! I hate the weird crazy ass capitalist message going on throughout the episode, I get Scrooge is a capitalist himself but he didn't change from this episode? He walked away from Jennifer's obvious poverty life and went "ah as long as she's happy" instead of I don't know, maybe a message about helping the less fortunate??

Look maybe I'm just bitter from my own life. I've lived in extreme poverty my whole life. My parents home has literally looked so much liked the ruined place Jennifer lived in during the episode. And I live in Alaska so I KNOW COLD. I know how it feels to go cold for days on end, no food, no water, nothing. Extreme poverty. Scrooge could have done something. He wasn't like Donald who doesn't have much either. He's a freaking billionaire. He could have helped. And instead the message he walked away with is "if you're happy life is fine" or something. Whatever the message that was supposed to be from this episode is completely lost on me because all I see is a miserable rich old miser who hates letting kids have fun and won't help someone in need. Absolute garbage episode. I really wish they had instead just followed up on The Last Christmas. Or had some kind of family centric episode at least! I seriously fucking hate this episode so much. I would legit erase this episode if I could it is the WORST.

The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker

Nit pick again. Didn't love what they did with Kit. Okay I get the idea he grew up to idolize Baloo so he turned out more like him. It...wasn't great. Didn't like that much at all. Felt like they just tried to shove Kit into a DT87/DWD Launchpad mold. I didn't love that Baloo and Kit's relationship was mentioned weirdly casually? Like Kit called himself Baloo's sidekick??? Except in Talespin Kit calls him Papa Bear??? Also great, got another tag to block from this episode, the delkit ship. Not a fan, thanks.

Kinda weird for me with this episode I didn't really catch the meaning of it. To me it felt like the message was "defy expectations...by meeting them." It didn't really click and I kinda hated it for that plus the weird characterization of Kit. Actually I was on Twitter and someone was complaining about this episode and I responded in agreement and then FRANK REPLIED TO US 😅😅😅. Frank explained that the point was more of "if you're good at something, don't give it up" rather than "you can do anything you set your mind to" type message that appears a lot in kids media. (Also Frank please don't look at me when I'm criticizing the show 😂😂😂😂😭 I promise overall I do love it I'm just a loud mouth when I don't like something some times 😅)

After Frank explained that it did click a little better and I can see the message a bit more clearly. But I'm still not really in love with this episode like I wanted to be. I freaking love Talespin so that was a bummer. But as I've said a dozen times. I'm mostly nit picking my personal opinion.

The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck

Another one I wanted to like more than I actually did. And mostly this boils down to Louie having to apologize to Doofus when Doofus is the one who's like some wild sociopath or something. I get it Louie hasn't been completely innocent towards Doofus. He did try to use him and con him but Doofus flat out has tried to hold him captive and torture and even kill him. Doofus' sins outweigh Louie's. Louie having to apologize to prevent the tension and all just...feels like victim blaming? This one is harder for me to describe why I don't like it and I think others have explained it better than me. I think it could have been better if Louie AND Doofus both apologized and agreed to start over and let what happened between them before be water under the bridge. At least this way they're equals? Maybe it wouldn't have been the best fix but I feel it would have been better than Canon. This one I don't want to call a nit pick. This one feels like there is something fundamentally wrong with it but I struggle to explain. Mostly other than that though I think the episode was fine. A little weird that the karma court scale needed to be told the villains hearts rather than able to just know them (mostly looking at the Ma Beagle one here) but that part is more nit pick.

And finally...The Last Adventure

I have things I love about it. The individual character moments. The references and call backs. The music. This finale was clearly made with love and care.

But that damn Webby clone daughter thing twist changes things. I know some people say it doesn't but to me it does! I feel it messed with the family dynamic and the characters in a needless way. I feel it didn't add anything to but rather did take away from. I don't wanna say too much on it as there's already been so much talk on it so in keeping it brief- not a fan, didn't like, why the hell, no.

The thing with Bradford kinda threw me off too. His logic and insistence on not being a villain made him so interesting. He was truly a villain to rival Scrooge. Then in my opinion he was pushed into a weird middle ground. He didn't feel like he completely abandoned what he previously stood on but also didn't go full villain either? I get a villain like Bradford isn't easy. The writers have to truly bring their all for someone like him. But Bradford suddenly getting armor and the Split Sword and becoming a battling giant was kinda ????? inducing. Threw me for a bit of a loop. I probably need to watch this episode a few more times before I finally settle on where I sit with the Bradford thing but at least at this time I just feel kinda mixed on it. Maybe I missed something there.

Other nit picks from the finale. Donald's writing was a little weird, he sounded like he was going on vacation but then Della said he was moving out and Donald talked like "well you have the boys and Uncle Scrooge..." it just really sounds like he's leaving the family?????????? Especially at a time like this? Rude! I mean yes somebody please get this man a vacation but the writing here left me kinda confused and there is no reason Donald would ever just leave and act like "oh well their mom is back so my work here is done." Nope. DADnald for life.

Lena and Webby never getting shown to have made up after their fight. I imagine the giving June and May the friendship bracelets kinda implies it but come on. Even just a hug would have been good. Also...why are they giving up their friendship bracelets??? Confused, not a fan.

And also...in addition to the Clone twist, I really don't love that April, May, and June were all clones instead of Daisy's nieces. I really wanted to get to see them in the show and now I just feel like thanks I hate it! I admire the guts to make a twist like this and all but I really hate it.

Overall please let me say I LOVE Ducktales. The show as a whole to me is a huge important thing I love. This isn't an attack on anyone who likes these episodes. I am just once again being loud and obnoxious with my own opinions and nit picks and things I just would have liked to see or not see.

no idea if any of this rambling answers your question Anon but here you go. Hope it works.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales spoilers #season 3 #season finale #ducktales finale #ducktales season 3 #tomb talks #personal opinion #series finale #not attacking anyone #just speaking my mind #long post #ducktales criticism #ducktales critical

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ratingtheframe · 4 years ago

Text

Why Armie Hammer’s Scandal Is More Than Kink Shaming

The 34 year old actor has had numerous allegations thrown his way this past month, from cannibalism to an obsession with BDSM. But do these allegations go beyond a widely accepted community of kink lovers and venture into deeply rooted misogyny?

Warning: this article contains mentions of cannibalism and sexual assault.

For those of you who aren’t aware of Armie Hammer’s presence on screen, you may be scratching your head and wondering what on earth people are talking about, seeing the cannibalism aspect to this all as face value without making the connection between Hammer’s past behaviours and current allegations. The actor who rose to prominence in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher’s The Social Network (2013) playing both of the Winklevoss twins, has become quite the favourite amongst the film industry. His role Oliver in Luca Guadagnino’s Call me by your name (2017) has sent Twitter into a permanent frenzy as memes and daily adoration for Chalamet and Hammer’s on screen romance continue to thrive even 4 years after the film's release. As well as Call me your name, Hammer is known for roles in Sorry to Bother You (2018), Rebecca (2020), On the Basis of Sex (2018) and soon to be released, Death on The Nile (2021). He currently has another film due to be released and a Call me by your name sequel in development. Sounds as if he’s got a lot going for him and despite him not being the biggest star to be churned out of Hollywood today, the recognition is still there and with that, he’s still being paid.

The Allegations

At the beginning of the year, an account emerged under the handle of @houseofeffie, that was created to expose some lurid and unpleasant communication between several women and Armie Hammer. Some of which he had relations with whilst married to his now ex wife Elizabeth Chambers. The nature of these dms are incredibly disturbing and worrying considering that Hammer not only has children but as an actor, spends a proportionate time around women.

These are just a few of the messages that were exposed that led the media to brandish Hammer as a “cannibal”:

Hammer:

“You are the god damned standard I hold women to in terms of kink and enjoyment of fucking the[n]...”

“I need to drink your blood, why the distance?” “...thinking of holding your heart in my head and controlling when it beats”

“I am 100% a cannibal...I want to eat you....Fuck...that’s scary to admit..”

“I’ve cut the heart out of a living animal before and eaten it while still warm”

“You were the most intense and extreme version [that I’ve ever had]. Raping you on the floor with a knife against you. Everything else seemed boring”

“You [were] crying and screaming, me standing over you. I felt like a god. I’ve never felt such power or intensity.”

“You just live to obey and be my slave”

“Would you come and be my property till you die? If I wanted to cut off one of your toes and keep it with me in my pocket so I always had a piece of you in my possession?”

“I want to see your brain, your blood, your organs, every part of you… I would definitely bite it...100%”

...O-kay. Lots to unpack here. First and fore mostly, I’d like to address the kink shaming element to all of this. I personally don’t see any harm in kinks, BDSM, pornography, as long as people are consenting and aren’t inflicting unsolicited pain upon people. Therefore, kink shaming and finding Hammer’s taste in sexual preferences isn’t what we are here to discuss. In fact when I first read the allegations, that wasn’t even my initially thought. CNN posted an article two days ago titled “Armie Hammer May Be Disturbed, But Is Shaming Him the Answer?” an opinion based article by Aaron Weaver that explores the allegations and believes Hammer shouldn’t be shamed for his kinks. But this begs the question whether Hammer was actually being shamed? I didn’t see much evidence for this seeing as people were mostly horrified by his taste in human flesh than anything else, a kink that is uncommon in the BDSM community and is only practiced by the most extreme.

Kinks aside, the most worrying thing about the DMs above is the way in which he views women and their bodies. It’s clear to see that he might not have much respect for women seeing as he proudly states his willingness to cut them up and drink their blood. And funnily enough, the sexual objectification of women’s bodies for one's own sexual pleasure without considering their comfortability is classed as misogyny. A reddit user made an extremely good point on a thread about Hammer’s scandal stating:

“To me, the problem is not that he’s into rough sex, or that he has kinks some people find scary. It’s not about yucking his yum, so to speak. I’m more concerned that he may have ignored safe words and pushed his partners beyond their limits. I feel like the media is focusing so much on his kinks and sexuality as opposed to his ignoring of consent, which is a complete and utter inversion of priorities”

Past Relationships

Another example of Hammer disrespecting the boundaries of women and sexual pleasure would be his past girlfriend Paige Lorenze. Lorenze is a 23 year model and former professional skier who has shone a light on Hammer’s worrying behaviour and his involvement in BDSM activity. The sources of Lorenze’s allegations are highly unreliable, which is one of the most frustrating things about this entire charade. The BBC BRIEFLY covered the fact that Hammer dropped out of his latest film amid the allegations, without fully going into detail about the allegations or the abuse subjected towards his former partners. It just goes to show we’re rubbish at taking abuse seriously enough to the point where people are punished for their wrongdoings. Had a more reliable news source covered this story, then it’d make it more viable to the public. Even though this scandal is in its early days, that doesn’t necessarily mean it's unimportant or should be swept under the rug along with the hundreds of other scandals that Hollywood refuses to expose.

Only the Daily Mail, The Sun and Page Six seem to have gone in depth with the accusations, making the entire story rather murky for the reader. Anyhow, Paige Lorenze said to the Daily Mail that Hammer had carved an ‘A’ above her groin without her consent and licked it whilst it bled. He had also reportedly tied her up and hit her with paddles to fuel his BDSM obsession and sexual desires. Lorenze was quoted saying 'Any man who is fantasizing about crushing bones, eating them, having sex with female limp bodies is a danger to all women'. Hammer insisted to Lorenze that his behaviour was normal, and that there was an entire community of people that carried out the same things he did on her. This is partially correct seeing as the global sex play market is worth over $30 billion, with practices in such activities dating back to the mid 19th century. However, the one thing the BDSM community doesn’t condone is not giving consent, which is where the fine line is drawn in between Hammer’s sexual preferences and the BDSM community. His choice to carve that ‘A’ into Lorenze isn’t backed up by a wider community of people who enjoy a variety of sexual pleasure. Lorenze claims he also DMed nude photos of her being tied up to people without her consent, further perpetuating Hammer’s lack of respect towards people’s boundaries. This is a serious incident, that sees someone with more power (Hammer is 6’5 and Lorenze is 5’6 btw) assert their dominance and by doing so, degrades and harms someone else. We shouldn’t be kink shaming Hammer, but shaming him for thinking that this behaviour is acceptable.

Hammer’s previous relationships can also draw some light into his lack of respect for women. He and his wife Elizabeth Chambers divorced in July 2020 after a decade of marriage. Though it's unknown what triggered the separation, these recent allegations may have something to do with it. Furthermore, two other women have come forward to express their distaste towards Hammer and his questionable fantasies. Entrepreneur and ex-girlfriend of Armie Hammer, Courtney Vucekovich, told Page Six that Hammer wanted to “break [her] rib and barbecue it and eat it”. She also expressed how easy it was for Hammer to charm his way through into getting women, especially young women into doing what he wants through “active manipulation and making you feel like he’s never felt this way about anybody.” Lorenze was also subjected to similar retort after reporting that Hammer too wanted to barbecue one of her ribs because she “didn’t need it”. Writer Jessica Ciencen Henriquez took to twitter last summer after a lunch date with Hammer and expressed that she had blocked him on Instagram. She later went on to tweet this:

“If you are still questioning whether or not those Armie Hammer DMs are real (and they are) maybe you should start questioning why we live in a culture willing to give abusers the benefit of the doubt instead of victims”

Exactly my point here. There’s not much to this scandal other than the fact that several people were hurt and undermined and someone else caused it. Someone who is societally above everyone because of their race, class, status and gender, with a well connected and dominant family support system.

His background and past

Hammer comes from a very powerful and wealthy family. Hammer’s great grandfather, Armand Hammer, was the chief executive officer and president of the Occidental Petroleum company founded in 1920. Now if you’re wondering the exact scale of such a company that is still running today, they are the 4th largest oil and gas acquisition in the entire world worth over $100 billion. ONE HUNDRED, BILLION, DOLLARS. Not all actors in Hollywood can say that their great-grandfathers were worth that much, which gives me little hope in seeing Hammer be held accountable for what he’s done. He was also kicked out of UCLA after apparently not “being able to do it”. Just another rich white male with enough power, malice and money to work his way around any struggle.

Now that we’ve established Hammer’s allegations, it’s worth looking back to see whether the signs of such behaviour were already prevalent in the numerous interviews he partook in over the years. Complex highlighted an episode of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert from 2017, where the host brought up Hammer’s obsession with knots, to which he laughed off and claimed that “knots make sense” that they are a “language” and referenced how man used knots before the wheel. Valid points but ones that are debunked in light of his interest in BDSM. during a 2013 interview with Playboy (appropriate) Hammer expressed that his “sexual appetites changed'' when he married his wife and that hair pulling used to be something he enjoyed but could no longer do now that he was married “even though he wanted to”. This is quite the backwards comment when we’re talking about respecting boundaries and it's clear to see it was only a matter of time before his desires could no longer be repressed.

Since this whole shit storm began to travel Hammer’s way, he has since dropped out of the film The Billion Dollar Spy, which would’ve seen him star alongside Jennifer Lopez. BBC News reported that this move was made as Hammer stated that “I cannot in good conscience now leave my children for four months to shoot a film in the Dominican Republic” following the ‘vicious’ online abuse he’s been subjected to. Hammer was again put in the firing line by Grand Cayman law enforcement for lying about a woman provocatively shown in a video was Miss Cayman of the Miss Cayman beauty pageant that’s held on the island. He and the woman were warned for their misconduct and had confirmed the matter is now closed.

Final Thoughts

There are enough red flags in Hammer’s behaviour to open up a flag store, and I would go as far as to say that this isn’t the end of it. For someone who’s grown up having the majority of things they want, it's easy to want more beyond morality and despite the discomfort of others. Hammer’s move to drop out of his latest film was an attempt to lessen the blow of hate being turned towards him as opposed to the benefit of those he’s hurt. So far, him and his lawyer have denied all allegations and further action hasn’t been taken against the Hollywood star. He’s apologised for the DMs and brandished his actions a “foolish attempt at humour”.

Wrapping his own behaviour up in humour is an attempt to detract from the severity of the behaviour itself, whilst excusing it, something he can get away with because of his status.

Major media outlets haven’t done much in even attempting to expose this man’s behaviour and have left it up to unreliable sources to piece together the true persona of Armie Hammer. Though innocent until proven guilty, common sense is widely available to the general public meaning we should be delving into the past a little and comparing it to these allegations. Along with Hammer’s character, family and unnerving Instagram posts of cutting up meat and eating raw steak, there doesn’t seem to be much in the actor’s favour.

All I would say is as a director, producer, writer or actor, would you feel comfortable in being associated with someone who believes they're a cannibal and marvels at the idea of drinking human blood? Or someone who goes as far to objectify women to the point where they become nothing but sexual fulfilment and pieces of meat?

That’s all I’ll say and those who do feel comfortable doing such a thing means that Hammer may still have a career at the end of the day. One point to Hollywood, no points to political correctness and respecting women.

#armiehammer #call me by my name #actors #hollywoodmovies #paige lorenze

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lgcjungah · 4 years ago

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hiii, everyone!! i’d like to introduce to you choi jungah, a twenty-two year old aspiring entertainer from busan who has ... way too many layers to her personality. will get more in depth about it underneath the cut, or you can read up about her right here ( still wip,,, ). please give this post a like if i can slide into your ims for plotting! twitter or discord are also available. looking forward to writing with you andddd necessary info on jungah + plot ideas ( until i set up a proper plot page ) can be found under the read more cut!

a bit about her bio

she’s from busan, younger twin by 2 minutes to @lgcxjongsuk.

grew up being dotted on by her older brother and was very close to her mother. never had a good bond with her father, however (because he was stricter and she didn’t like his attitude. even less when she discovered he initially got with her mother for the sake of the mom’s fame).

[ TW BULLYING MENTION !! ] as a child she was nowhere near as outgoing and bubbly as she is today. rather withdrawn and shy, easily overlooked at school or bullied for preferring to stick to herself. she saw her mother as her only female friend and her twin brother as the only best friend in her life. [ END TW BULLYING MENTION !! ]

[ TW DEATH MENTION !! ] at age 12, the twins lost their mother due to illness. their father took up on a better paid job in seoul and they moved to the capital. [ END TW DEATH MENTION !! ]

adjusting wasn’t easy. the people in seoul appeared even more uptight and strict than back home in busan and jungah always left like the odd one out with her accent. life really didn’t seem to be too blooming for the girl.

until jongsuk signed her up for a national talent show that was broadcasted on tv. jungah managed to score first place, won the prize money and suddenly gained the affection and fondness of those around her. her classmates took interest in who she was, made attempts to befriend the new transfer. this was ... a brand new experience, but nothing jungah actually seemed to mind. suspicious about their motives at first, the girl soon grew to love the attention she got. she’s never had that before, after all.

throughout the end of middle school and all of her high school time, her personality underwent a huge change. once shut in, preferring books over human company, she did her best to appeal to her peers and stay the focus of attention, the girl they all adored and liked. she was coddled by her twin, still berated by her father, but life was great.

it became even greater when she took the chance of an audition after being dragged there by her classmates. a part of her knew that, mayhaps, all of these people claiming to root for her were only awaiting to see her fail and not get accepted. but much to their dismay, and jungah’s happiness, she passed and signed under legacy on january 2018.

her goal is to become an entertainer and she doesn’t stop at anything to achieve it.

personality !! most of it is covered on her about page, but here’s a summary

she’s ... really something. has multiple masks she wears daily, depending on each situation and company she’s in

they’re not bad, and never mean. maybe not very genuine at times, but she does whatever it takes to be liked by literally everyone around her. she’s very attentive, borderline cunning, notices little details about people and uses them to her advantage to make herself look nice and friendly.

your muse likes anime and mentions it briefly? next thing you know you have jungah approach them about having an anime marathon together when time allows for it to.

she is friendly, outgoing, helpful, can be pretty flirty, likes to talk a lot and likes to make jokes. she appears as the bubbly girl, everybody’s darling, but really? she has no idea what or who she actually is.

the deeper thinking surfaces when she’s mostly alone or in the company of someone she really trusts.

that’s not to say she’s always an angel. she has outbursts of pouting or sulking when something doesn’t go her way, and can display “diva” behavior, namely when she’s required to pay something and simply finds ways to make everyone else pay for her.

honestly, she just wants to succeed and make her dream of being an entertainer come true. she doesn’t react well to the past, especially the death of her mother or the way she used to be as a child. pro tip: just don’t mention these things around her, ever.

plot ideas !! these can be fleshed out more

people/friends/acquaintances from busan who knew her back when she was still very much an introvert. totally different from the way she is now. maybe they kept in contact, or reunited at lgc after years and the chance has been shocking

a penpal friend she’s had since she was a teen, and you two realize now, years later, that you are attending the same company.

ex-boyfriend/girlfriend, she had two relationships. how they ended can be discussed in detail! must be around her age and no younger than 99er.

best friends. whether it’s genuine friendship or not can be plotted out, but basically the people whom she feels most comfortable with, or whom she has no problem sharing her quiet, thoughtful moments. moments in which she’s not that bubbly girl trying to make everyone happy.

anything antagonistic. she’s loud and she makes herself present no matter where she is. your muse happens to not like this kind of behavior at all, maybe even questions whether or not her personality is actually real or if she’s just setting this up for attention and fondness. i’d love to see her being called out on it tbh

fellow anime lovers. she’s a huuuuuuge anime geek and it’d be great if she had someone to be geeky with together, be it by flailing over ships or bonding by binge watching stuff, anything is possible!

someone she tutors in english. she’s never been the best in p.e. but languages? she loves them. she’s been self-teaching herself english aside of the mandatory english classes in school and has reached a pretty advanced level. your muse needs help and she gladly provides them with just that. of course she demands something in return - icecream, maybe? <:

hookups. sef-explanatory. though this is limited to two muses.

i’m pretty sure i’ll come up with more but !!

#lgc:intro #⁽ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ ooc ⠀ / ⠀ * ⠀ intro.#i think i did decently on an intro. for once.

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years ago

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The Christmas that Wasn’t-Ch. 13

Chapter 13: Leigh

The sky was beautiful with the lights streaming over the velvet black of space. There was faint music in the distance, muffled by the sound of the surf slipping up on the edge of the sandbar. All of that was drowned out by the thundering of my heart in my ears. Kenny walked close to me with his hands stuck in his pockets. The scent of him reminded me of tree blossoms and something sweet beneath.

I knew what he’d seen, and I knew from Adam that he’d immediately thought the worst. Even though I didn’t owe him an explanation, I felt that I needed to tell him the truth of how I felt. I took a deep breath of the ocean air, screwed up my courage, and tucked my arm through his. He stiffened for a moment, the muscles in his arm tense and hard, then relaxed.

“Kenny, I know you saw…”

He reached across his chest and settled his hand on mine. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s none of my business.”

I leaned against his shoulder. “I’ve known Allie since college. We fell into this thing we have, and it shaped who I am. She’s my best friend, Kenny, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. I mean, we had this dream of the production studio in college, but we both played it safe. I started out teaching. She got an MBA. She met Jon on a business trip. But she was always there for me. Allie Mason is the first person I ever loved. I still love her, in just about every way that you can love a person.”

As soon as I started talking, the words poured out without stopping. “There was a brief time right after college—before I met Izzy—that Jon tried to set me up with one of his friends. That whole heartedly didn’t work out from the start. He was… well, the best way to say it is a fuck boy. You’ve probably seen his dick on Twitter.”

Kenny’s eyes went wide. “Wait… Allie was engaged to…. that Jon? Holy shit.”

“You’ve heard of him?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. He’s spent the last year trying to be me. And spoiler alert, he’s failing spectacularly.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Good.”

Kenny laughed, and it made something like electricity run through my body. He was handsome and sweet and kind. There was no doubt about how physically attractive he was, but there was something about his sweetness that amplified all the rest. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way about anyone but Izzy or Allie. Even though it scared me, I got the sense that he was feeling the same.

I stopped and turned to face him. The breeze ruffled beneath the skirt of my dress and blew my hair around my face. I reached up to tuck the wayward locks behind my ear, my fingertips skimming along my jaw and along my cheek. Kenny’s eyes watched every move, and I could see them darkening beneath the starlight.

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve… wanted anything with a guy,” I confessed quietly. “But I want something with you.”

His lips curled up into a soft smile. He brushed his knuckles along my cheek, his fingers tangling in my blowing hair. I watched his tongue brush across his lips. “I know the feeling,” Kenny whispered back. “I know what it’s like to give someone your whole heart and have them break it into pieces. I never expected Ibutan… Ibushi…” He paused, taking a deep breath. His fingers settled against my face. “I never expected him to do that to me, but I guess we never do.”

The sadness in his voice made my heart ache for him. I leaned into his touch, my eyes slipping closed. My soul was desperate to comfort him, to take away some of the pain he felt. “I’m so sorry, Kenny.”

He moved closer and slipped his arm around my waist. I settled against his chest with my palm flat over his heart. “I haven’t felt really alive since it happened… since I left Japan. Not until I sat with you in that airport.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Kenny settled his lips against mine in a feather light kiss. It lasted only a fraction of an instant, but it made me feel warm inside. When we parted, he rested his forehead against mine. The heat of his body settled around me.

“I want something with you,” he murmured. The words came out almost pained. He sighed and pulled me closer. “Come dance with me.”

The shift was almost comically dramatic, but I didn’t say no. I liked being in Kenny’s arms. It didn’t matter if there were other people around. He folded his hand into mine and lead me toward the edge of the sandbar where the music was a little louder.

“Stay right here,” he said just before giving me another barely-there kiss. I stood in the sand, the surf washing up over my toes, and watched as he walked back to the tent where we’d had dinner. He spent a moment talking to Adam and Allie, who grinned at him. Allie looked at me over Kenny’s broad shoulder and smiled.

Kenny came back a moment later and wrapped me up in his arms again. The music was barely audible over the sound of the water, but it didn’t matter. Being curled against Kenny’s chest and swaying beneath a sky full of shooting stars… it was the calmest I’d felt in a long time.

Time stood still and stretched out. The rhythmic sound of the ocean and the beating of his heart against my ear lulled me into a daze. I could feel his fingers brushing against my hair and along my back.

“Come back with me?” Kenny whispered in my ear softly. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I looked up into his blue eyes and fell into them. “Okay.”

***

Kenny ran his fingertips along my shoulders and along my arm as I slid the key into the door of the bungalow I shared with Allie. I had a feeling that he’d asked for Allie’s permission for this. It was sweet.

The moment I opened the door, I was awash in flickering light and the scent of flower petals. Kenny stood behind me, just inside the doorway, as I walked slowly into the room. Little electric tealights sat on the counters and along the windows. Flower petals were spread out on the floor and over the duvet on the bed.

“Kenny… how…?” I turned to see him looking sheepish. The grin that spread over his face was adorable and made his eyes crinkle. It made warmth tingle along my skin.

He stepped close and gathered me against his chest. “I called in a favor,” Kenny said quietly. His fingers slid along my cheek, strong and gentle. They trailed up my jaw and skimmed along my jaw. “And, honestly, Hangman and Allie might have played a part, too.”

I smiled, my heart skipping a beat at the sweet gentleness in his touch. His fingers tipped my head up, and I rose on my toes to press my lips against his. What started faint became more insistent. Kenny pressed on hand into the base of my spine, curled the other around the back of my neck. I relaxed into his arms as he deepened the kiss. My fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

He pulled away, the tip of his nose brushing against mine. “It’s been a while,” he murmured against my lips.

“Me, too,” I replied as I draped my arms around his neck. He grinned and splayed his beautifully long fingers against my shoulder blades and held me like I was breakable. “I’m not good at this.”

He settled his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. “Neither am I.”

I could feel blood pound through my veins as I leaned into him. My fingers slipped through his curls. He was solid and strong, but in that moment, he looked so vulnerable. There was a softness in his touch as we stood amid flower petals and flickering tealights. Kenny drew me closer, our lips touching briefly once again.

A soft moan slipped out of him. His fingers tightened against my body, sliding down my back and settling on the curve of my hips and thighs. My dress bunched beneath his searching hands. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of those beautiful fingers of his along my flesh.

“Leigh,” he said, his voice deep and rough. The sound made me burn all over.

I blushed at the thoughts that skipped through my head. “Come with me,” I whispered, curling my fingers around his wrists and pulling him deeper into the room.

We stopped beside the bed, watching one another with all the nervousness of two inexperienced teenagers. It felt that way, at least for me. Kenny was the first to move. He sat on the edge of the mattress and curved his hands against my hips before drawing me close to stand between his knees. His fingers flexed, every move pulling the hem of my dress higher and higher. Blood pounded in my ears.

Kenny smiled up at me, and I felt my heart melt. I cradled his face in my palms and leaned in to kiss him softly. He sighed against my mouth as he finally slid his hand beneath the fabric of my clothes. The feel of his touch on my bare skin was stronger than I imagined it would be.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips. “The moment I saw you…”

I kissed him again, more insistently this time. My fingers wound in his hair, tugging the strands gently. The way his touch tightened and drew me closer made heat rush through me. I scratched my nails against his scalp.

“Jesus Christ,” he swore when I drew away and turned around. I gathered my hair up in my hands to pull it out of the way. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw him taking his time looking along the lines of my body.

“Are you going to unzip me, Kenny?”

The moment he drew the zipper down, I tugged my dress over my head and tossed it onto the floor. Before I could turn around, I felt Kenny’s fingers along my hips and his mouth settling on the curve of my spine.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @lilred91 @unabashedwrestlefics

#the christmas that wasn't #kenny omega #kenny omega fanfiction #hangman adam page #hangman page #adam page #adam page fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #real person fanfiction #ofc #oc #paradise #travel #strangers to friends to lovers #co-written #mox-made-me-do-it

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bouvillea · 5 years ago

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a dense G24 Part 2 Essay

Here is my Part 1 Essay. Like before, I would like to talk about some parts of G24 Part 2 that I found interesting first. Feel free to skip ahead to around the fourth paragraph my discussion of the plot. Spoilers ahead.

The atmosphere is very similar to G20. I don't know about how others felt when they played through G20, but the uncertainty about who you could trust (Talvish...) was emphasized to the point where I, the player, couldn't make a sound decision either. G24 Part 2 revolved a lot around the fact that the Milletian and those that help the Milletian couldn't parse why and what was happening in Erinn. There was just a constant stream of dread and bitterness and an uncertainty about the Milletian themselves; the replies we were allowed to choose reflects that. Is the Milletian really good for the sake of Erinn's future? More on this later.

Part 2 opens with Hunter being, for once, very vulnerable to the Aces and the Milletian. He reveals to us his nightmares about his past and Fodla's past. We continue to see these bonding moments between the Aces, the Expeditionary Force, and the Milletian.* Starlet plays a bigger role now as a counterpoint to Fodla. One moves minds and hearts with persuasion and charisma, the other directly manipulates memories and emotions. The Aces clearly serve as the opposing undercurrent to Vayne's prediction at the end of Part 1. The Milletian will always have friends and supporters that cherishes them. Whether or not that is enough to stop the Milletian from spiraling into angst is another story.

*The Milletian really needs some after care...no one asks how the Milletian is feeling after all of this...

Ultimately, a lot of loose ends and story plots were tied up in Part 2, most of them very bittersweet and only vaguely hopeful at best. These back stories served to make us sympathize with the antagonists and make their motives understandable.

For that reason, I cannot come to hate Fodla. She had a very contrived method of protecting Hunter--her little brother. In a pact she made with Hymerark, Hunter's memories of her and his past were mostly sealed away. To make up for the fact that her little sister, Eriu, was sacrificed and succumbed to the curse, Fodla took in Deirbhile. She was a substitute that Fodla loved, but even in her last moments, Fodla wanted her real sibling. Deirbhile is truly a tragic character. She is a personality made and shaped by Fodla. Whoever she was before is probably buried deep in the recesses of her mind. Judging by the last scenes, Deirbhile cannot exist or function normally without Fodla.

Speaking of which, did Deirbhile make an oath with Hymerark, too? What for? We won't know unless we knew who she was before she met Fodla...

Thanks to Merlin, we now know that a Geas is a pact with a god, a pact that cannot be broken easily. If, in Part 1, the Milletian seeks out Vayne in Bangor and speaks to him wearing one of the Geas armors, he speaks about the dangers of being bound under a Geas: "You become bathed in the absolute authority of his will, which grants tremendous gifts and metes out terrible punishments".* Going against the orders of Hymerark will invoke a punishment. And so Vayne insinuates that he still needs to pay for abandoning his duties on the first night to hang out with the Milletian, and the Incubus King does his best to subvert the Geas in order to help.

*Thank you to Mita on twitter for supplying me with the extra dialogue I missed.

Speaking of which, the Incubus King really went full on angst and drama when he had to separate from his wife and Eiren, huh? He gave away his powers, haphazardly made a deal with Hymerark so he could have a dark, gloomy sarcophagus to dream about his time with his wife and child. Even Eiren made an off-handed remark about how lame it all was. It feels like the developers and writers realized that his motivations were very tropey so they decided to make fun of it. And then Eiren followed up with "he sort of...melted away into the darkness like summer snow". Oh. Okay. Goodbye, papa.

I'm going to continue off-tangent here and talk about Manannan, too. He comes back, all salty that the Milletian is busting into his temple uninvited (he does say another uninvited visitor, so was there someone before the Milletian?). But Manannan is so Cat Mom to the Far Darrigs that he can't maintain his pompous god-like demeanor in front of them and the Milletian. He can't bear to frighten the squishy Far Darrigs. It's nice to see that the Far Darrig's love and trust of Manannan isn't misplaced and is reciprocated. I don't think the Far Darrigs were there when Manannan met Scathach, so did he pick them up when he was heartbroken over her? Pure speculation, but that would be really something... Manannan tries to exit the conversation with the Milletian gracefully but then the Far Darrigs ruin it by letting us know that he's going to play with them. Hah. Glad to see his character getting fleshed out like this.

The Far Darrigs also "uwu" at me so there was that. Okay, back to critical analysis.

Human* greed and corruption is a repeating theme for the gods. Manannan said it in regards to the Fairy Queen's reason for leaving, and Vayne, a former Evil God, said the same to the Milletian during their fight. Even Morrighan and Talvish accused the Milletian of claiming powers out of greed and selfishness. The Milletian is a god-like being with human needs and motivations. They see the world in a much smaller frame than the gods do, but possess powers to rival the lowest gods. Make a mistake as a Milletian, and you might as well make a mistake for the whole world. And yet, the Milletian is not recognized as a deity by the gods, and not as a human by the mortals. They're an outsider.

*I will be using human synonymously for "mortal" since there are multiple races in Erinn

And being an outsider is a vexation for the Milletian brought to the front of the mind during this arc. They are always reminded that they are not one of them, that they are a special existence. Vayne's words wheedle into the mind every time they help someone out of kindness. Admiration will turn to fear, fear will turn to hate. The elves and giants forgetting the Milletian and blaming them, albeit artificially stimulated, was a taste of that. Fodla's nightmarish illusion also put the Milletian in the state of being a stranger. They stand at a distance, listening in on a conversation they aren't a part of. And when they are noticed, there is nothing they can do to deter the hate, or prevent the blood on their hands. The worst part was that the Milletian's friends do zero damage to them. It was a cruel, one-sided fight.

But maybe this is all a trial for the Milletian, too. To steel their heart and understand who are really their friends and what role they play in Erinn. Piran said that Hymerark's trials for the people of Erinn have gotten more out of hand since Hymerark recognized the Milletian's existence. Then, perhaps, the Milletian isn't an outsider anymore. The trials are meant to be completed with the Milletian's help accounted for. These trials will unify the people of Erinn against the Order of the Black Moon.

Which, when you think about it, is not very dissimilar to Talvish's idea to unify the people against a common cause. You'll also have to admit that Vayne's/Hymerark's plan is a lot better than Talvish's. Piran also mentioned that Aton Cimeni and Talvish both condone chaos, so it explains why Talvish hasn't popped out to help the Milletian yet, or to defend them from a very persistent Vayne. He tried helping a little in G22 and then again during G23 but it seems like he got told off and instead sent Merlin to protect Erinn and protect the Milletian. Talvish is definitely on the Milletian's side though, and is probably hoping that they stay true to themselves and continue to help others.

If the goal of Hymerark was to make the Milletian to feel as helpless as possible and then chase them out of Erinn, he wouldn't need to go through such lengths. He could simply pop the Milletian into the Soul Stream and get rid of them there. Cichol did it, I don't see why one of the Three Gods couldn't. Or perhaps Hymerark's original plan was to get rid of the Milletian, but Vayne's oath with him prevented that. Vayne would want trials for the Milletian to overcome so they would become strong enough to defeat him. On the same note, since the trials are getting more intense due to the Milletian (different, I would say, than the trials are happening because of the Milletian), is the Milletian really good for the future of Erinn? I imagine the turmoil the Milletian is going through has something to do with this. Would the trials have been easier if the Milletian wasn't there? Would less people have died and gotten hurt if they did not step into Erinn?

Very briefly, on Cethlenn and Marleid. I had an inkling for a while that they knew each other (thank you, KR Twitter) but due to circumstances, they had forgotten one another. Marleid took on his name, and Cethlenn isn't his real name. So...did he pick "Cethlenn" or did someone name him that? Or did he just switch names with "Marleid"? If Vayne named him Cethlenn...well then. That's the name of Mythological Figure Balor's wife so...writers what are you thinking? (Or, more likely, Fodla named him to change him and meeting his childhood friend with his old name was the biggest trigger to disrupt her abilities.)

Anyway, things aren't looking good for Cethlenn. Or Tani. Tani's last letter to the Milletian had Morse code that vaguely translated to "please letmeout".* Upsetting, especially now that it's implied that Hymerark will use her body to descend to the mortal world. I'm just waiting for Aton Cimeni to pop into the Milletian's body to tell everyone to stop it and shut up.

*Other interesting implications regarding how Milletians work. They can sleep, but do not dream. Nao remembers every Milletian and they can chose to leave whenever or never return.

After all that has happened in G24, I hope we can get some good closure. And I hope the Milletian gets a nice break.

#mabinogi #mabinogi g24 #mabinogi g24 part 2 #long post #bouvillea speaks #spoilers

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maverick-werewolf · 5 years ago

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Random Werewolf Fact #43 - Where Were the Werewolf Hybrids?

So maybe you’ve heard about this concept before: werewolf-vampire hybrids. Things that are both werewolf and vampire. Sound familiar? Yes? No? Let’s talk about them a little, either way.

You might know them as various names - or, really, you might not, because there is no actual name for them. Most people just use werewolf-vampire hybrid. When I was growing up, there was this game called Adventure Quest (I have no idea if it’s still a thing), which used the word “werepyre.”

(Kinda neat though, overall. Definitely cooler than at least 85% of Hollywood werewolves.)

But werepyre is a terrible word, let’s not use it, please. Like, what does that even mean? It means nothing. “Were” means “man” and “pyre” comes from vampire, the etymology of which is itself largely unknown (but many arguments and speculations exist; I won’t be going into all that in this post, but keep an eye out for it in the future!), so werepyre means man-something. There’s no “wolf” there and there’s not really any vampire there. What an ugly, meaningless word.

Anyway, sidetracked. Are werewolf-vampire hybrids a thing in folklore?

The answer is: No. Absolutely, positively no.

The closest we get to anything associated with both werewolves and vampires is the vrykolakas, which I covered in another post. And they are by no means “hybrids.”

So how about werewolf-vampire hybrids? What’s up with them, anyway?

Well, me, I don’t really know. They’re fairly popular in pop culture today, like in the Underworld series (my opinions of which are oft-lamented, and I try not to repeat too much to avoid upsetting those who enjoy them), even though that one was just some kind of weird blue dude who seemed to have nothing in common with vampires and definitely absolutely nothing remotely in common with werewolves... Not that the werewolves, excuse me, “lycans” in the Underworld series were even remotely intimidating at any point, anyway, except maybe a little in that prequel one but only when they were hordes again of course--

Ah. Where was I?

I used to see ads for browser-based games with werewolf-vampire hybrids all the time, like Adventure Quest, and some thing with blood in the name that I briefly played; I forget. There were a lot popping up back then. It was pretty wild.

So what do these 100% pop culture creatures usually look like, though?

Well, that varies a lot. Like I said, in Underworld, it’s some weird guy that basically has nothing in common with a werewolf whatsoever, no matter what kind of hybrid it is. Then you have the ones that are pretty much just werewolves with wings and sometimes extra large teeth, but a lot of werewolves have big teeth anyway, so that’s kind of moot.

What I wanna know is do they still have to just drink blood if they’re also part werewolf? Because they’re giant flesh-rending monsters, are they still going to be dainty and just want blood? Why not just eat people instead? That’d be a lot easier.

(side-note: these are purposefully rhetorical questions for the purpose of good-natured satire)

Anyway, there it is, though! They weren’t a thing. I personally don’t often like them, but I am also very willing to like them if someone does them right. I admit I think it might be fun if done well, but at the end of the day, I’d rather just have a werewolf and a vampire than something trying to be both, since they’re both awesome in their own ways. That’s just personal preference! Whatever totes your goats.

Oh and by the way, if you were wondering about any other werewolf hybrids? That’s also a nope.

Werewolves are werewolves, as far as folklore is concerned. And I can personally appreciate that, since it gives them a lot more oomph.

In other news, too - sorry for the relatively short fact this week, after such a long wait. I’ve not been well lately. I have lots more facts in store for you, though, and I’m excited about quite a few of them!

(If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to check out my other stuff! And please consider supporting me on Patreon; every little bit helps!

Patreon --- YouTube --- Wulfgard --- Werewolf Fact Masterlist --- Twitter)

#werewolf #werewolves #folklore #werewolf wednesday #werewolfwednesday #vampire #vampires #random werewolf fact #vampire werewolf hybrid

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kdtheghostwriter · 6 years ago

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SNK 116: V Has Come To

Alexa: play “Roundabout”

When I first saw the Kanji that represents “rumbling,” my first two thoughts, in immediate succession where as follows: “Oh, shit, is it already happening” and “Oh, no, wait it’s just like JoJo.” (Fun fact about that ED, since Ded Memes live here. The little To Be Continued arrow always flies in before the drums hit. Like everything it gets adjusted for the purposes I suppose. Anyway!) Honestly, every chapter in this volume has ended like the episode of an anime, including this one with its hero/villain stare down and triumphant proclamation from the narrator. More on how those tables have turned later.

I want to spend most of this essay talking about Eren, since I spent most of the last one talking about his older brother. I’m not so much surprised at the direction his character has taken after so many years of pain and abuse. What does take me aback is how so many people are apparently sympathetic to Zeke while hating Eren, especially considering how Eren had a comparatively awful upbringing while spending a lot less time being shitty to people.

But maybe I shouldn’t be too shocked. Even as the main character, he’s always been controversial. Whether by people who want him to be paired with one character or another, or those who just plain don’t like him. Even in-story, good will has been hard to come by. One minute they’re honoring you and your friends in front of the Queen. A few years later, you’re locked underground as a fugitive of the military-controlled government.

It was the Chapter 112 recap where I broke down the nuance of a pro wrestling storyline – specifically in regards to their character-driven nature. I used performers like Shawn Michaels and Brett “The Hitman” Hart to outline the natural progression of a character from fan favorite to hated ne’er-do-well. Now, I’ll be using an example much more relevant to the story. The Rise then Fall then Return then “Turn” of Daniel Bryan.

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Most important thing to note about Daniel Bryan is that he’s not supposed to be in the ring at all. A series of concussions and other injuries forced him to retire from active in-ring competition. This was directly after a year-long saga of him trying to prove himself as a main event player. After what seemed like endless waves of red tape and front office hurdles, he achieved the absolute pinnacle of the business. Winning in the main event of the year’s biggest show, WrestleMania, and becoming the World Heavyweight Champion. It was always going to be downhill from that point. What couldn’t have been predicted was the suddenness of it.

Three years pass and Daniel Bryan announces his imminent return to active competition. His first match back is yet again at the Showcase of the Immortals. He receives a hero’s welcome and for several months is riding a familiar high as the most popular superstar in all of wrestling. And then, he fights AJ Styles and something changes.

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I must note here briefly that at this point in the latter part of 2018, AJ Styles himself is enjoying a year-long run as champion of the world’s largest federation. He and Daniel Bryan were scheduled to have a match at the Crown Jewel event in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Yes, the same Saudi Arabia that allegedly orchestrated the murder of Washington Post contributor Jamal Khashoggi. Daniel Bryan, along with other members of the roster, refused to make the trip. As such, his WWE Championship match was pushed up a week to be contested on TV. Bryan lost this match, but that would not be the last time they faced. In fact, the very next time the two squared off, Bryan captured the title, albeit via some nefarious means. It was after this match (followed by a match with former UFC Heavyweight Champion Brock Lesnar) that something broke within Daniel Bryan.

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The WWE’s relentless media schedules as well as the punishment of months of fighting on the road finally broke him down mentally as well as physically, and he decided that enough was too much. Daniel Bryan utilized his newfound platform as champion and killed the movement that catapulted him to worldwide fame. In its place, a message of repentance. He replaced the leather strap of his title belt with one made of hemp and naturally fallen oak. He railed against the paying fans for their unchecked consumerism and even admonished his boss, billionaire Chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment Vince McMahon, for exploiting their more reductive tendencies.

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This is going to sound weird because, honestly, these things change month-to-month but, yes, Daniel Bryan is supposed to be the bad guy here. And for a segment of the audience he absolutely is. Live crowds across the country (excluding his home state of Washington) hate Bryan with a fiery passion. Meanwhile, all of Twitter asked all at once, “Wait, you want us to…boo him?” It’s the most famous Heel Turn in recent memory due in part to the circumstances and the performer involved. This was the most popular wrestler in the world not six months prior. But even though the crowd still loved him, they were not clamoring for him like they had been. The magic of the Yes Movement was largely gone.

In Shingeki no Kyojin, I’ve witnessed this cycle ad nauseum. It’s the ebb and flow of fandom. I’ve been reading this series long enough to recall a time when Eren was seen as a useless, whiny geek as opposed to the badass world-beater he is now. There was a time, believe it or not, where Reiner was as polarized and hated as Eren is now. Before that even! Reiner was little more than the cute, air-headed jock before he and Bertholt revealed themselves as spies. Isayama reveals him as his favorite character and he’s been the darling of the fandom ever since. Second perhaps only to Commander Handsome himself who is even more popular in death. Annie still has her fans, despite only being in maybe fifteen percent of this manga.

My point is the same that Isayama has been getting at for the past three volumes or so. (Maybe more than that if we accept Kruger’s monologue as the first example.) Your notion of how the world works has been fucked from the start. Good and evil; right and wrong; Marley and Paradis. Reality is only as good as your perspective. The author was not content with just stating this, though. To prove his point, he deconstructed his own carefully planned narrative, rebuilt it backwards, then flipped it upside down so that now, we’ve come back ‘round to this.

Funny thing, life is. When your idols become your rivals. Eren once confided in Reiner for support in his darkest moments. Now, it’s very likely he’s going to try and kill him. Simply for getting in his way. This is more of the framing I’ve talked about before from Isayama. This looks like any other match card from an actual title bout. To show you what I mean, I’m going to line up several examples.

Seeing it now? Classic promoter tactics. Building up the hype. People rib on the Dragon Ball series for doing this sometimes – in the case of Z – to a comical extent. But really, this method can be seen elsewhere in stuff like JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, One Piece, Yu Yu Hakusho, Lupin the Third; I really could just name twelve more titles.

This is a rematch four years in the making. Yes, they met in Liberio but I don’t count that as a fight, considering Eren won long before anyone even transformed and Reiner was literally begging for his death. In present day, the Warriors have caught The Usurper off guard and they have much needed backup. This conflict has been set up like the apex of any Marvel movie. The mismatched group of heroes converging on one point, because the only hope they have of defeating the super villain is if they do it together.

This is why Pieck didn’t pull the trigger when she had the chance and also why Eren didn’t transform and splatter her and Gabi against the dungeon walls. Pieck is part of a team. A team with a plan. Part of that plan involved getting Eren Jaeger out in the open where he would be exposed to an all-out attack. Eren had prior knowledge of the Warrior Unit’s arrival and knew his best option was to track their location and cut them off. Pieck was likely dead whether she cooperated or not. What Eren didn’t account for was Porco, who was actually in plain sight amongst the other Jaegerists, but in a world where photography has just recently been introduced, one could not expect them to recognize him out of his Titan.

Pieck trusted her friends, and now they are all dropping in to Shiganshina to aid in her rescue. Eren did not trust his friends, and now they are all dead, mutilated or locked in a cell and they won’t be coming to his rescue. In another manga, this would be the turning point of the story where the Big Bad got his comeuppance and learned the ultimate lesson about the Power of Friendship and the series would end with the two brothers embracing in a pile of rubble. This is not any manga. Eren has three Titan powers at his disposal. (Four if he can get his hands on Porco again.) Unless there is a legit airstrike of some sort or some other secondary offensive, Reiner has no chance of winning this. Maybe he doesn’t have to, depending on what the plan is.

We still don’t know what Eren’s plan is either! That’s probably the biggest difference between him and Daniel Bryan. The Daniel Bryan character was developed weekly on television over many months and his motivations up to this point have been fully fleshed out. Eren’s motivations are a mystery to everyone except Eren. Even his brother Zeke doesn’t know what he’s up to. Zeke who, by the way, can magically appear in this upcoming battle as well. No, I don’t think Eren is the final “bad guy” of this story. I just wish he was, because he’s damn good at doing it.

I do not know how this ends. I am, however, sure of one thing.

Stray Thoughts

- I wouldn’t say either Eren or Pieck had the other fooled at any point. They were at an impasse and Eren decided to move the plot along.

- Eren isn’t the classic mwahaha villain (yet) but wow is he angry. And not the violent, explosive anger we know him for. Cold, cunning, calculated. I genuinely feared for Pieck’s life despite her holding the gun.

- I know we’ve been conditioned by this story to search for subtext, even when it’s not there, but I wouldn’t read too much into certain…stuff that happened with the 104th. The point here was to re-establish what we already know about the crew. Jean is a very perceptive lad and almost certainly the next Commander if anyone survives this story. Armin is…having a moment.

- I have to wonder how good Magath’s intel is for this op. Does he know that Shiganshina is deserted? Has he accounted for Zeke’s appearance? Does he know the God of Destruction is nearby?

- Yelena has been a favorite of mine since her debut, when everyone thought Connie grew three times his size. I won’t call it a Heel Turn because it doesn’t count if you weren’t wearing the White Hat to begin with.

#snk meta #snk 116 #shingeki no spoilers #eren jaeger #eren kruger #pieck #gabi braun #porco galliard #yelena #onyankopon #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #jean kirschstein #connie springer #nicolo #reiner braun #theo magath #character study #everything is a jojo's reference

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crazymarvelsuperfamily · 6 years ago

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hiya!! I love your work... can you give me some more Spider-Mom? i love Peter and Tasha's relationship too much!! xoxo

my hand slipped. okay - this ones teen and up, with some pretty graphic details to self harm, so be careful and stay safe. I care about you all too much - and if anyone ever needs, my inbox is open. All my love, Ren xx

Things will get better - word count 2468

Peter thought he was being pretty subtle. It was bitter in NewYork, so always wearing long sleeves or a jumper all the time was hardly noticeable– everyone knew that he felt the cold really bad anyways; after all spiders can’tthermoregulate. So, Peter was sure he could get away with no one seeing them.As for when he was invited swimming – it was easy to make up an excuse, he did have lots of school work to keep upwith and he was spending an awful lotof time out on patrol. He had also got worryingly good at hiding injuries, hehad an insanely high pain tolerance, so he didn’t even flinch when someonegrabbed at his arm. And, as for blood stains, he only tended to wear darker clothesany way – and with a couple of YouTube videos, vinegar and baking soda, theywere easy to get rid of.

So, he didn’t really get why he was still so paranoid. Everytime someone approached him, adrenaline would kick in hard; he would try tospend as much time away from the Compound, so FRIDAY wouldn’t be able uncoverhim; he had even bought a first aid kit with cash, instead of just putting itonto the card Tony gave him, so it wouldn’t be traceable.

All this was just to make sure that neither May nor Tonywould find out. He cared about both of them far too much. And they already hadso many things on their minds – the last thing that they needed was to worryabout Peter in a different aspect. Besides, if either of them knew, they couldtake Spiderman away from him. And he neededSpiderman. It kept him busy and was the only thing that could motivate himin the slightest anymore. So, he just kept hiding.

Eventually, he fell into this kind of routine, skipbreakfast, go to school, skip lunch, go home, pretend to do some school work, skipdinner, go out on patrol, go home, pretend to sleep, repeat. May’s hours overthe winter period were always hectic – he hardly saw her anymore. He couldn’thelp but be glad. He loved her more than any words could ever express, but hestruggled with her permenantly breathing down his neck; without her watchingover his every move, it was far easier for Peter to just get on with things andget things done.

And Tony was always busy too – sure, he would always maketime for Peter if he ever wanted to talk, but if they went for days withouttalking, he would never be too concerned.

This routine of Peter’s just continued. He somehow managedto slip under everyone’s radar: if May asked where he was, he would just say hewas with Tony and vice versa. Weeks had passed since this whole thing stated.

Peter wasn’t sure how or why “this thing started” when it started,it just did. He supposed it was the combination of not fitting in with eitherthe Avengers or his peers, mixed with the pressures of juggling school and patrol,not to mention the numerous physical and mental wounds he’s suffered inbattles, facing some of the Universes greatest dangers. He felt so outcast andalone, like he was back in the soul world, drifting through the void, unreachable.

It had only been 6 months since the two halves of the Universehad been reunited, but the world was recovering fast: the economy was climbing,businesses had been re-opened, and people were getting over their grief andloss. As far as Peter knew, it was only he and Strange that remembered the SoulWorld at all – and it was only him that could remember every second of the eightmonths he was stuck there for. Time was frozen like ice – everything was sodeathly silent and still, but Peter felt a shrill scream resonate through hishead. He neither ate, nor slept, nor breathed for the whole time. His heartdidn’t beat. He couldn’t move at all – he felt nothing. Yet he felt everything.He couldn’t think of a worse torture than the limbo he had been stuck in.

And no one understood what he went through. They couldn’t.Even now, six months on, Peter could still vividly remember the nothingness.Cutting himself was the only way that he could forget it: the pain reminded himhe was a real person again.

So cut himself he did. Hundreds of times across his pasty paleforearms. With a tiny broken pencil sharpener blade, he ploughed across theflesh and broke it. And the sting would comfort him. And he would watch as trailsof blood rolled down over his wrists and pool in his hands, then drip andsplatter onto his bed sheets or the bathroom floor. And from behind the glassywall of tears, he would watch as his skin would slowly bind itself backtogether, before he’d do it all over again.

His body worked fast. Too fast for his liking in some ways. Cutsnever stuck around for long at all, and hardly left any scars. But he didn’tthink it possible for any wounds to get infected, which he guessed was a goodthing. Nether the less, he was careful. He was always very careful.

That was, except for when he was with Tash.

Peter had always hada good relationship with Natasha – she was cold and hard on the outside, butunderneath, she was one of the kindest and loveliest people that Peter had evermet. She was always soft and gentle with Peter (with the exception of training –that shit hurt) which meant Peteroften let his guard down a little with her.

Occasionally, if she “happened to be passing”, Natasha wouldpick Peter up from school. It had been raining so heavily that the side walkhad flooded, and Peter only had a slightly moth-eaten hoodie with him, so hecouldn’t help but be thankful to see an Audi pulled up right outside the school.He slid into the front passenger seat and slung his rucksack into the boot. Natashapulled his sodden hood of and ruffled his damp curls.

“Hey kid,” she smiled warmly at him.

“Hi Tasha,” Peter responded, trying smile in response. Buthis throat was dry, and the words came out croaky and monotonous.

“How was school?” She prompted, evidently ignoring the lackof his usual excitement.

“Alright, I guess.” Dangit, Peter. “Same old. I passed my Spanish test from Tuesday.”

“Hey! Well done on that.” Natasha beamed. Peter knew shecould sense how down he was. “How about a celebratory hot chocolate and waffles?You look like you could do with a pick-me-up?”

“Oh, I’m alright – I’m not really that hungry.” Petershrugged. It had been a few days since he had eaten anything at all. The thoughtof waffles just made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Don’t lie to me – I have met you. You normally eat more thana horse. We are going to get waffles.”

“If you say so.” Peter tried to smile again. He let a weaklaugh escape, but it was pitiful.

The car journey to the Waffle House was unnervingly quiet.Natasha tried to make conversation at first, but after a few questions with littleresponse, she just turned the radio up a little. The slightly static music wasstill completely overpowered by the relentless drive of rain that hammered ontothe car roof and windscreen. Peter scrolled briefly through his twitteraccount, but none of the messages on the screen made it to his brain. They wereall scrambled up and distant, just like the radio.

The parking lot was pretty full – it took Tasha two drivesaround in order to find a free space. The diner was equally packed, with themtaking the last booth in the corner by the window. Natasha ordered twochocolate milkshakes and supreme chocolate waffles, but Peter still said hardlyanything. Instead, he just absent-mindedly stirred his milkshake until thepaper straw decayed to a sodden mess. Tasha was talking to him, but he couldn’tmake out the words or process them into the story she was telling him.

His stomach turned painfully when the food was set down infront of him. Golden brown waffles laden with syrup and ice cream and sprinklesand strawberries. This should have been his dream come true. Instead, it feltmuch more like a nightmare.

“Go ahead and eat Peter… Are you okay?” He heard the BlackWidow ask him.

Peter shook his head a little, “Sorry, day dreaming.” Hemuttered and picked up the fork that was set before him. He cut a small corneroff and tentatively took a bite. The sugary sweetness sent his senses intooverdrive, his eyes almost watered at the shock of the taste. All of a sudden,the hunger of not eating in days kicked in. He shovelled mouthful aftermouthful into his mouth, barely hesitating to chew. He felt sick.

His stomach did yet another somersault. This time, it wasfull. Then, yet again it wasn’t. The waffle came straight back up, hot acid andundigested food dripped from down his hoodie. Peter froze up for a moment inshock. By the time he had processed what had happened, Natasha was already nextto him, stroking his hair, reassuring him. Her words were still distant andblurred. She started to tug at the hem of his jumper, helping him to carefullyremove it. Peter was too dazed to object, he just wanted the foul thing off. Heraised his arms.

Wait.

His arms.

Oh no. She was going to see. She was going to see. Nonononononono. Peter had kept thosecuts hidden for so long. But before he could do anything, the jumper was off,his bare arms exposed, and raw, fleshy red lines could be seen by the world.

Natasha said nothing. She didn’t even look surprised. Noteven in the slightest. Instead, she just helped him out from the booth andguided him to the car. She was ever so gentle and didn’t touch a single one ofhis cuts.

The drive back to the compound was near silent. Peter felt frozento his seat, he did nothing but listen to the buzz and whir of the engine. Itwasn’t comforting at all. He felt his eyes glazing over, then glassy tearsrolled down his cheeks. He did nothing to stop them, he let them slide off hisface and land with a soft pat onto his disgusting jeans.

Even after the car had been parked in the garage back at thecompound. The pair just sat in silence for a while. Peter moved to leave, hemuttered something about being in need of a shower.

“Wait.” Natasha said – her voice soft, barely above awhisper, but the authority in her voice stopped Peter dead in his tracks. Theysat for another minute or so before she got up to move. “Come with me.” She commanded.

She led him into the elevator and took him to her personal apartment.Peter hadn’t seen this area of the compound before. It was elegant andpristine, with white walls and white floor boards – the only colour in her hallwayand living room was found in a brass statue – it was obscure, Peter couldn’ttell what it was.

She kept leading him – straight through her living room,through her bedroom and straight into the bathroom. Without any words, shehelped him to peel off his sticky clothes, his t-shirt stained with blood andhis jeans sodden with vomit. Peter just sat in silence on the edge of the bath,barely flinching as Natasha wiped his torso and arms down with anti-bacterial.She passed him a plain white bathrobe which he slipped on. The material wassoft and fluffy, and it smelt of Natasha’s perfume, and it hugged him gently - fittinghim almost perfectly. It was comforting.

“Come.” And he followed. They sat down on the large grey sofathat took over the corner of her living room. She turned on the TV and let StarWars play quietly in the background – Peter felt safer. The silence heldbetween them remained, and over the next hour became more and more comfortableto Peter. He felt himself starting to trust Natasha, and subconsciously, heopened up to her. Tears once again fell from his eyes. Natasha still saidnothing, but she held him, pulling his head to her chest. She carded throughhis hair with one hand, and with the other drew circles with her finger on his back.He clung to her shoulders and sobbed.

To Peter, it felt like an eternity before he calmed down. ButNatasha didn’t let go of him once, she just stayed with him, letting him cry.When he pulled away, for the first time that day he made eye contact with her.Her usually impeccable eyeliner was smudged, and like his, she had raw redrings around her eyes.

“Tasha?” Peter asked uncertainly, the black widow, certifiedbadass and normally a total poker face was crying in front of him.

“I’m sorry Peter. I just wish it wasn’t you that had to gothrough this. I know that it seems lame for me to be crying, its just, you’vefaced so much, and it shouldn’t have been you. You’re sixteen – the biggestworry in your life should be SATs. Instead, you are the single person alive whohas felt the worst torture in the world. I would give anything to take thatpain from you.” She whispered. Peter hugged her again tightly.

“I’m sorry Tasha.” Peter mumbled into her shoulder.

“No. Don’t be. You are always welcome to be here, you cantell me anything, and I will always make time for you. No apologies or other courtesiesrequired at all.” She looked him sternly in the eye – he knew she was serious.

“Can you please promise me something?”, Peter asked tentatively,Natasha nodded in reply, “please don’t tell Tony or May. It’s just that theyhave so much on and they’re so busy and-”

“My lips are sealed.” She cut him off. “But I do think thatwe should get you some help. Okay, I won’t tell anyone, as long as you go andsee a therapist. You don’t need to tell them everything, you don’t need to tellthem anything, but trust me, it will help. We can find person whose right foryou – it doesn’t matter how many sessions it takes, or people you have to see.But trust me, things will get better.”

She held him tightly once again, and once again he criedinto her shoulder.

“things will get better, I promise.”

#spidermom #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #idk how to spell that #spider son #Precious Peter Parker #peter parker needs a hug

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theoldgods · 7 years ago

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So I saw Lesley Manville twice in two days at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) (a movie screening with a Q&A after on Monday 5/21 and then an actual performance of Long Day’s Journey into Night on Tuesday 5/22), and it was fantastic. She is just as interesting and luminous in the flesh as she is onscreen, and her vibe is great. If you ever get the option to see her IRL, I definitely recommend taking it.

More details about each night under the cut for the curious.

Monday

This was a showing of Another Year as part of BAM’s “Two by Lesley Manville” film series they did in honor of having her in residence for the month of May (the other film, a few weeks before, was All or Nothing). Afterwards was a Q&A with her that lasted about half an hour or so. I’d seen the film before, but it was fun to watch it with an audience that was very engaged (they kept laughing at a lot of Lesley’s mannerisms as Mary, though they quieted down by the end when it gets insanely awkward and emotional for her).

The Q&A was great fun. To be honest it was hard for me to focus on what Lesley was saying half the time, since I kept like....getting caught up in my head in awe at what was really transpiring; I wish I’d filmed all of it (I filmed her answer to a fellow Lesley stan, twitter user @girl_hag, which was about Cyril, but nothing else). It was mostly focused on her work with Mike Leigh and on Another Year itself, and not a whole lot of new information that Lesley hasn’t said in like 20 different previous interviews came out, but the interviewer was quite good and kind of low-key also a Lesley stan? Interesting specifics I can remember:

Everyone applauded her hardcore when she came on stage after the film (the interviewer commented that usually Q&A audiences aren’t that excited) and she did these silly stage bow type things

In general the audience was super into her talking, laughing at a lot of the little jokes she made and getting hyped for the brief Cyril discussion (more on that below)

Lesley was wearing the yellow and blue dress she wore for the Build Series interview a few weeks ago, with the leather jacket she always wears, and she took the leather jacket off after about one minute and just kind of...casually dropped it in a heap on the floor. (It has a silvery lining.) The usual rings (including a pinky ring gjfskgdg). I think she had an orange purse too?

She sort of plays with her earrings occasionally while thinking? I think this is visible in video interviews of her in general but it was lovely to see in person

She had a funny anecdote about meeting “a guy named Adam” on the train on the way there and wondering if he was actually in the audience or not

When the interviewer mentioned seeing LDJIN on the opening night, Lesley had some remark about how she had sort of lost her voice at that point and as a result she thought Mary Tyrone initially sounded “sexier than I intended” or something until she got it back

The interviewer had plenty of good lines, remarking that Lesley seemed very empathetic etc. in actuality (which made Lesley be like “aw thanks”), referencing the NYT profile that came out last week, referencing the internet’s obsession with Cyril, pointing out that she loved Mary’s line to David Bradley’s character in Another Year asking if he wanted a cuddle (#bigmood), and remarking that Lesley’s eyes should be insured by Lloyd’s

In general the questions from the interviewer were about Mike Leigh’s working/filming process, screen vs. stage questions and the use of the body in stage work to make up for not being able to see facial details (and the famous eyes), and similar

There were probably...4 or 5 audience questions?

The first was the big one since Cyril stan @girl_hag asked about feeling like Mary but wanting to be Cyril and what Lesley would want from a Cyril spinoff, which made Lesley kind of laugh and be like “you know that’s never gonna happen right?” and talk about how she didn’t really see material there since Cyril is such a satisfied/fulfilled character already (her whole answer, and banter about Cyril memes and how women are Into Cyril, is up at https://twitter.com/girl_hag/status/998752343595388928).

Lesley is very polite and meets your gaze the entire time while answering you which meant she looked right at us for about 3 minutes hjbkljlkjlkj

There was a question about Paul Thomas Anderson, so Lesley got to talk for a few minutes about how she adores him, how genuinely kind he was, his working methods and the extensive shooting and reshooting he does, his willingness to collaborate with actors, etc.

I believe the rest of the questions were just more about Mike Leigh and specifics on his process, which were basically all stuff I’d read/heard before in other interviews, though she did talk more about how Mary was drawn from several different women and how slow and organic the process of cobbling it all together is, including things like coming up with the long list of things that befall Mary’s poor little car in the film

Everyone just left after the Q&A so we (me, girl_hag, and @afinpassing) didn’t try to talk to Lesley one on one or anything (that and we were trying to, you know, pretend not to be totally gone on her while in her presence), but as we were leaving the bathroom after she was standing just outside talking to a couple people who had waylaid her to ask about LDJIN, so we got to walk within about a foot of her on our way out

It was a great night, lots of fun meeting other Lesley stans IRL and walking around Brooklyn yelling about how beautiful she is (she really is...she looks just as beautiful in person, and just as brightly shining/luminous-perfect-skinned, can’t stress this enough dfjgksdfgfdg)

Tuesday

First and foremost, LDJIN is a long play--three and a half hours including intermission. Lesley is a huge part of it (indeed, the play sort of is about her character, thematically turning around her), but while she’s a big part of three of the play’s four acts, she’s absent from all but the last few minutes of the fourth act, meaning the last quarter of the play was kind of a slog in that I just didn’t care much about the men’s various issues as acted out on stage. That and the fact that this was going on at 10pm after a long day of walking around half of Brooklyn meant that I actually nearly dozed off a few times in the long 40 or so minutes without Lesley on stage; I couldn’t feel the male actors’ energy enough from back in the mezzanine, though maybe it would be a bit more urgent from down in the first few rows. (Most reviews mention how much the play drags here, though, so I suspect it’s not just me; I’m pretty sure this is a Known Issue with LDJIN in general as a play.) I’d say it’s worth it just for her overall if you’re really dedicated, but it helps if you’re into this sort of insanely depressing dysfunctional upper middle class familial drama stuff.

But whenever Lesley was actually on stage, she was wonderful, of course. For those who don’t know, her character, Mary Tyrone, is a self-described “lying dope fiend” of a woman who has been battling morphine addiction since the birth of her youngest son (who’s now in his early 20s), and the play takes place over the course of one long day in 1912 as the family is bumbling along and, as a result of some new stress in their lives, Mary is struggling not to relapse after several pretty good months. Lesley plays Mary as almost girlish, determinedly reminiscent of an imagined better time in her life before the dope, alternately acutely aware of her addiction and yet also determined to pretend it doesn’t exist. Her hands are a huge part of this--always stroking and twisting and nervously trying to sublimate her craving for morphine into these various physical tics and mannerisms. Also, all the cast use American accents, and while the men’s accents kind of warble throughout, Lesley’s is definitely the strongest.

Random points:

She’s quite awkwardly handsy with Jeremy Irons at multiple points (this adaptation definitely puts an emphasis on their relationship and the real passion, though it’s been faded and distorted by time and addiction, underlying it), which is kind of adorable

One of the play’s little underlying gags in the first half is that she’s “delightfully fat” now (after being skin and bones in the throws of her addiction the last time through), which means quite a bit of affectionate touching of Lesley’s stomach, particularly from Jeremy and from Lesley herself

There’s lots of both melodramatic and more earnestly desperate draping herself across the men in her family, across empty chairs, and so on, including her doing some semi-stoned entranced staring at her own hands, briefly

Mary as a character does a fuck-ton of rambling, both purposeful (to try to throw her family members off the scent of how badly she’s struggling against the urge to relapse) and more dissociative, which is alternately played for laughs and for pathos by Lesley and gives her a good blackly comedic underpinning in moments

In the third act she throws herself face-down on the floor for a moment, and later she sits with her skirts rucked up slightly, both of which show the boots she’s wearing, in kind of a disheveled bit of tenderness

She plays the piano (mostly off-stage, but still) in a couple brief bursts

She looks good in Edwardian dresses and shawls? I mean, this is obvious from the stills, hah, but she wears them well on stage and moves wonderfully in them, sweeping and draping and everything

Crowd cheered the loudest for her of anyone in the curtain call, including Jeremy Irons (he’s fine overall, they’re all fine, but Mary is such a flashy role that she naturally draws the most attention)

Mary is just a really interesting, meaty, complicated, fucked-up character for anyone to play, and the fact that it’s a role that’s meant for older women is fascinating and just perfect for Lesley; I’m so glad she got to do something like this, and she manages to balance the insane physicality and mannerisms it requires without losing the naturalness and emotion behind it

Overall I’m very glad I went; part of me just wishes I’d had closer seats so I could truly soak up every last facial expression of hers. (I could see quite a lot from the mezz, but some of the finer details were inevitably lost, and as my eyes grew more tired over the night it became harder and harder.) I booked all this on a whim last month, though, when there was only about 25-30% of the house left, and trying to balance “decent seats” with “not paying 200 plus dollars when I haven’t had a chance to truly budget for that” meant having to settle for the middle ground of the mezz, and most of the seats in the front of the mezz were already gone by the time I booked, putting me near the back of the mezz. Also, I went to the performance alone, and after the great time on Monday with two other folks, I did kind of find myself wishing I could share Knowing Glances with other people who would appreciate a couple of the more carnal pleasures of some bits of Lesley’s performance.

Anyway: I’ve had fun in NYC! I got to meet @afinpassing in person and she is lovely, and I spent a total of about 3.5-4 hours sharing the same air as Lesley Manville, so that was, uh, great stuff. I just need to sleep now for an early flight, as I’m typing this, so I’ve probably forgotten some details that will come back to me over the next few days that I may edit in.

#lesley manville #another year #long day's journey into night #theater

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sophygurl · 6 years ago

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Okay I am done with the panel write-up posts and I apologize to all my followers who don’t give a fuck about that kinda thing but WisCon is a big part of my life so I get to totally indulge in it once a year so there. [For anyone wondering this amazing con I keep going on about is a feminist Sci-fi/fantasy con right in my home town and I’ve been going for close to ten years now and it’s like HOME to me]

Gonna post some about the panels I was on, my general con experience this year, and some other stuff under this next read more thingum here. It’ll be more of a personal post than the others. Anything else I write now will be more about fandom-ey stuff that I got up in my feels about and need to hash out.

BTW though. Hi new followers!! If you’re coming to me due to WisCon specifically or due to my write-up of THAT panel, feel free to introduce yourselves. I use tumblr the most frequently with twitter and FB being a sort of tie for second and DW much more rarely just as an FYI. I’m sophygurl everywhere but FB which is my real name. I’m easily findable and love talking to people!

So my panels this year were all very different in tone and experience, but all went pretty well? I had fun anyway? I had 4 panels about TV in some way or another and one about Star Wars. Some hinged on serious-ish topics, but I wasn’t on any Serious Business panels this year.

I wrote up a crap-ton of panel ideas and a lot of them got through. So many that panels I wrote up and wanted to go to were often up against one another and I had to make lots of choices. But it feels really good to me to be involved in that way - in writing up panels, and in being on them, and in going to them and taking notes and writing them up after. There is a lot that I CAN’T do for the con due to my disability stuff. But this is stuff I both can do and enjoy doing so it works out well. I also volunteered to a few people to write up panel descriptions from ideas they have but don’t have fleshed out, so that’s an exciting new thing for me to try out. So but yea, all five of the panels I was on were panels I also wrote up.

My first panel was about Women Loving Women on TV. It was me, another panelist, and the moderator. I was a little worried about this panel because the moderator said she was put on the panel by mistake and doesn’t even have a TV (she did fine as a mod - not all mods have to also partake in the talking, they can just ask questions of the panelists), and the other panelist never contacted either of us or showed up for the panel.

Fortunately, I am a well-prepared panelist and felt comfortable talking about this subject for the whole 75 minutes. But then the panel was scheduled against a panel on a similar topic and so anyway - three people showed up for the panel. Fortunately they were kinda fun and engaged people so it became more of a conversational panel than a formal presentation kind and I think it went well? This was my only panel this weekend that I wasn’t the moderator of.

My next panel was about intersectionality on TV. I was also a lil worried about this one because it was just me and one other panelist, although we had some good chats online before the con so I wasn’t too worried. Fortunately, she convinced a friend to come sit on the panel with us so there was three of us - and both of my panelists had lots of awesome things to contribute. We also had a decent size panel for an evening time slot and got the audience involved too. I pulled one of my goofball tricks and made the audience do a lightning round question of a show they think does intersectionality well and everyone was able to come up with something, which was fun.

Right after that was my panel about SFF sitcoms which was a blast. This was even later in the evening, so we were all really punchy! It was me, a good friend, and another panelist I knew casually before. We wanted lots of audience participation and we got it - getting so many more recommendations than any of the 3 of us had even considered. And since it was a panel about comedies, we really just kinda relaxed and had fun with it.

That was all Friday. Big Day for me.

Saturday night, again a late night slot, I had my Bisexual Representation in TV and Film panel. This one I was not too worried about because I was asked to hand-staff it, since I had strongly suggested the panel be filled with Bi+ folks. So most of the panel was people I already knew and had paneled with before but also I snagged a couple of people I hadn’t previously talked to but who were also awesome.

The panel was in a large room and was fairly full, which I thought was really neat. I had a lot of my own notes on the subject, and did go off on a huge bit about the amazingness of Sara Ramirez and her two bisexual characters, but I also knew from previous convos that my fellow panelists had a lot of interesting things to say and they did not disappoint. It seemed like the audience had a lot of fun and the # for the program was pretty lively, so that’s always a good feeling.

Sunday afternoon was the panel I was MOST excited about. It was all about the themes of The Last Jedi. Like how cool is that? A whole panel not just about the movie in general, but specifically about the THEMES of the movie?! I was pumped that this panel even got through, much less that I got to be on it, much less that I got to moderate it.

And let me tell you something. My panelists? Were amazeballs. Like, the email convos we had ahead of time were already so smart and so nuanced and so full of different ideas and perspectives I was like !!!

And the panel went SO WELL. Like, there was such an equal exchange of like flow and information going back and forth. I feel like I really organized my own thoughts and questions for my panelists well and we all spent the whole panel making grabby hands for the mic because we were all so excited to respond to one another’s thoughts.

It was FUN and THINKY and I could tell the audience was really engaged and we all laughed and discussed and disagreed and laughed more and it was probably the best time I have ever had on a panel. The #TLJThemes on twitter is just chock-full of both quotes from my awesome panelists and thinky-thoughts from the very smart audience who I sadly did NOT end up having time to get questions or comments from because literally the moment we finally had a pause of any kind? It was right on the dot time for the panel to end LOL.

So yea, wow, that was just exhilarating? IDK, I am such a nerd.

But yea, so I had everything from 3 audience members to packed rooms and no fellow panelists to crowded tables of excited panelists struggling to get a word in and everything in between and I feel sort of confident that I did well with all of it? So that’s neat.

Last year I didn’t moderate any of my panels and I found I really missed it, which is why I volunteered to do more moderating this year and it was a Good Life Choice and I plan to do more of it in the future. I adore WisCon for being the kind of place that a basic nobody like myself who has done nothing with her life besides watch a crapton of television can sit on panels and moderate panels and contribute to panels and do things like this that I enjoy and feel like am good at and it’s just such a good. *cuddles the general idea of WisCon*

And beyond the panels - both that I attended and sat on - I had a really wonderful con this year. I was very social and decided to get over my awkwardness and just kinda Utilize my awkwardness because, like, we’re all geeks here so just stop worrying and be a dork and have fun and it worked? I talked to so many people, introduced myself to so many people, made so many connections, hung out more specifically with some of my favorite people, and just sort of made sure to hang out in public spaces and smile a lot and that helped? Who knew.

There were really only just the three bumps in my otherwise good experience.

1. The panel. If you didn’t already see about this, I attended a panel that very unfortunately derailed into Nazi apologism and it was super gross and upsetting but lots of people spoke up against the panelist in question and the con acted quickly to ban her and are continuing to discuss if she can ever come back so at least that part is good but UGH UGH UGH that was so gross.

2. My laptop broke on me. Fortunately, I have amazing friends and the one I was rooming with doesn’t use hers a ton so she let me use it a lot so I didn’t have to be off-twitter much because a lot of the con happens in the twitter tags and I would have been very sad to miss out on that. I got home and my other amazing friend and roomie helped me get my laptop into the shop quickly and it’s back now which is a huge relief because as a mostly homebound and frankly mostly sofabound extrovert? I need my laptop. I NEED my Laptop.

3. Life with chronic illness sadly does not stop when you are at an event you love. Even when you save up all your spoons, and spend weeks building up your stamina after a winter of mostly hibernating, and use all of your meds, and allow yourself more caffeine and different foods than usual, and work really hard on self-care. Still, you are chronically ill.

I am able to push myself a LOT at WisCon because of how it fuels me socially and intellectually and creatively and in so many other ways. But that still only goes so far. And especially with having two late nights on panels - I did not make it to any parties or other late night social events this year. Nor did I make any early morning panels - and there were some I really Really wanted to go to.

But that’s life and I still got to cram SO MUCH in and spent lots of time in the hot tub soaking and also having poolcon with some amazing folks and had lobbycon and actually made time to have meal/snack times with people instead of just the usual “we should totally make sure to ...”

There were a lot of people I only saw briefly or missed entirely that I’d have loved to have had more time with, but I guess when we finally invent the time turners I can have all that plus go to ALL the panels.

Oh! And I did go to an amazing reading this year. I often skip readings but I knew a bunch of the people at this one and adore them so I went and it made me feel and think a lot of things and adore these people even more, so there’s that.

And PHEW I think that’s it. I have tons of thoughts about like, found family and female friendships and stuff mostly about my own amazing platonic poly tribe - some of whom come along to WisCon with me and we get to like BE together in shared living space and then go off and have our own adventures and bond with other people and then introduce one another to those people and it just enhances the whole thing and YAY MY PEOPLE. And uh, yea, one of said peoples who sadly no longer lives in the area just came back over to my place from our other friend’s house and is only going to be here for another day and a half so I’m gonna go run off and spend time with her while I can.

#wiscon #wiscon 42 #long post sorry #i don't have a tag for this #extroversion

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