#but if you're dealing with achilles

[ozzgin]

pls pls pleas please Please PLEase PLEASE *PLEASE*!!!!!!!!!!! 🥺🥺😘😏😋🥺💞🙏😞😭🥜🥜🥜🫣🫡 Yan! Teacher x reader? It can be uncannon and not connected to the rest of the story but PLEASE..

I gen/ have a lady boner for this elegant yet horn dog of a man. I just *KNOW* he'd treat me better than any of the young and foolish classmates in that school.

Yan!teacher : (sweating buckets, trying to hold back while also being taken aback)

Me, who broke into his house to get a smooch: Uh. You come here often?

Yan!teacher : This.. is my house.

Me : And this is the house of my dreams, Baba grill. I want you to bend me over tonight, tell I'm good, then take me out to dinner, marry me the next morning, buy a quaint cottage in the country side, make me pregnant, adopt a dog who we will name Bartholomew Chungus Roofus Goofy Achilles Pedro Pascal, open a bakery, then I go into labour and give birth, afterwards we'll renew our vows and go on a grand vacation at Italy where you'll feed me gelato and panacotta as I rock our triplets to sleep and play with the dog

Yan!teacher : I'd love to bu- wait what?

Me : 👁️🫦👁️

I'll tell you what, I've always wanted to write a Yandere Professor. He'd be a theoretical physicist, teaching standard courses at the local university. Terribly passionate about his research, sometimes to awkward extents. He's surprisingly flirty and cheeky for someone of his age and status, but he's quick to remind you what kind of nerd you're dealing with.

The only reason I've been postponing it is because I wanted to dust off my own knowledge, so it can be as authentic as possible.

[sky-is-the-limit]

It's pretty simple, really. Don't get romantically involved with a fellow soldier. The task force is a unit, a second family. Any other relationship developing could create unnecessary, dangerous complications and you know damn well you cannot afford that. You worked hard to fit in, you worked hard to prove that you, a woman, can do as much as the next man in line for the job. Hell, in your case, even better.

"Weakness."

CW: F!reader x Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick +18/NSFW/F!Masturbation

P.s I'm not a writer!

Rules, rules, rules.

Your Captain's words ring in your head every time one of these unwanted thoughts creep into your mind. "One of the best sniper shooters I've ever got to work with." You're proud of your accomplishments, of your resilience and brain when it comes to work, always giving your best self to get the task done, to make sure you have your team's back, to never let anyone down and above all, yourself.

No one can be perfect though, right? Everyone has an Achilles' heel, a weakness strong enough to take the bravest man down, to make someone forget all the important attributes that make an obedient soldier and that's exactly what he was to you. A weakness. The name that answers to all your desires, a thought engraved permantently in your brain, never disappearing no matter how hard you've tried. And you have.

Countless nights when you had given in the advances of a drunken stranger, hoping that it will be enough to forget him, to get lost in the moment with someone whose name or face don't even matter. The only reason you let another man kiss you, taste you, touch body.. is so you can feel something real. Something that isn't your imagination where he's the only one always present.

The worst part of this? It's not just you indulging into this madness. Perhaps if it was one-sided, it'd be easier for you to bury it in the depths of your mind. Only allowing yourself to feel it late at night when you're alone in your bed, the only witness to your secret being your fingertips and his name leaving your mouth softly, like a desperate prayer for salvation. It's not just you though.

/ / /

"That blondie over there is practically undressing you with her eyes, Garrick."

There it is. That uncomfortable feeling in your stomach that makes you want to disappear from the surface of the earth. It happens every damn Friday when you and the boys hang out at the nearest pub. Always the same scenario, always a different girl, never you.

You should be used to it by now, and yet the way Soap nudges him to go over and leave with someone else tonight still stings. You want to punch that smirk off of Johnny's face but it's not his fault. You wish for that woman to fall on her ass, embarass herself but it's not her fault. You crave for him to finally snap, forget about the rules and drag you back to his car so he can fuck you with all that desperation that has been building up inside both of you. He won't though and it's not his fault.

"Nah, not my type mate." Any other woman would feel relieved to hear this. Hear the man she wants so badly turn down the chance to leave with a pretty girl for the night but not you. Maybe it'd be easier if you got to see him flirting with a stranger, his hand finding it's way to her waist, flirty whispers foreseeing a promising night between them.. Maybe something would crack, maybe jealousy would work it's trick and get you to stop thinking about him. Not Kyle though.

He spits out that sentence like it's no big deal, his piercing brown eyes staring into yours, never breaking eye contact as the words leave his mouth. If Soap wasn't so distracted, mumbling with frustrated jealousy that Gaz always gets the attention of the prettiest girls, he'd be able to see why he always turns them down.

He knows damn well what he's doing. Like there's an unspoken bet between the two of you, of who's gonna break first and he has to win it. The look in his eyes, confirming your suspicions that he also thinks of you when he's alone, the way his lips part slightly every time you stand up to go get another drink, the sight of your barely covered thighs right in front of him.

He wants you and that's the worst part. Just like every night, this one ends the same. With you two parting ways in the cold corridor, your only company his presence in your thoughts. At least his room being next to yours could mean that you fall asleep facing each other and that's adds some sense of comfort to your loneliness.

/ / /

Another sleepless night finds you alone in your sheets, the moonlight being the only thing illuminating your room as the soft sound of the rain pours down outside, reminding you that Autumn is finally here. It has become your habit, a lonely, desperate routine where you just lay there, thinking of him. Quite frankly, you don't even care that his room is right next to yours, that if the walls are thin enough maybe he can hear you touching yourself to the thought of him.

It's a deluded way to cope with all the desire filling up your body, feeling your core pulse and twitch as your fingertips find their way down to your clit and you wonder. How would his touch feel, how would he do it..

"Fuck, Gaz" a soft whine escapes your lips, your movements picking up the pace, making your hips back up and down against the bed, craving friction, craving him.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick is a passionate man. Whether it's a mission, a workout, hanging out with his friends.. He always lives in the moment, full of energy and a tremendous thirst for adrenaline. Always so eager for action. There's no doubt in your mind that that's exactly how he'd do you.

"I need you, fuck-" You admit to yourself breathlessly, sucking on your own finger before slowly bringing it down to wet your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine as you drag your fingertips through your own slick arousal.

You're a mess. Suddenly the cool temperature of the room turns into unbearable heat, sweat dripping down from your forehead, hair messy against your pillow as you buck up your hips against your palm, biting down on your bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to be quiet but as you get closer to your climax, you can't control it.

"Gaz-" Your mind travels back to earlier in the afternoon when you walked in on him working out at the gym, a pair of black shorts hanging low from his hips with a matching bandana on his forehead to keep the sweat from dripping down on his face. He caught you watching, your eyes were glued on his defined arms, occasionally wondering off to his chest then down to his abdomen. How can you not when he looks like that?

"Alright there, Y/L/N?" God, that smile will be the death of you, the sight of his fangs driving you insane that you can't help but wonder what they'd feel like sucking down on your neck. It'd be funny to think that you could ever scarcely deal with the attraction you feel towards him.

Suddenly it's hard to breathe, your thighs start to tremble whilst your fingers stroke your clit faster, you can feel it coming. God, his hands, his fingers.. The thought gets you to bring one finger back to your mouth, wetting it with the tip of your tongue. Would he do that? Stuff his fingers in your mouth while he's buried deep inside of you? A soft moan fell from your lips at the thought of it, pinching your nipple as your eyelids flutter to the sensation.

You're so lost in pleasure that you can barely hear the first knock on the door, thinking that it's your imagination playing tricks on you. The second one is louder making your hand jolt away from your thighs, a swell of embarrassment rising inside you.

"Shit." You mumble quietly before throwing on the oversized t-shirt that you normally sleep in before checking the clock on the wall. It's way too late for social calls unless it's an emergency. Another knock on the door snaps you out of it and without making sure that you're presentable, you open it.

"Gaz?" He doesn't look distressed, quite the opposite with his arms crossed over his chest, head titled to the side as he takes in the sight in front of him with the same smirk that makes your knees want to give in every time. So, no emergency then.

"It's late, what are you doing here?" You try your best to appear as if you were asleep, that would justify the-

"God, you're a mess Y/N." He may have his usual playful look on his face but his tone suggest something different. He's not teasing you for your state, not this time. It's like he's trying to catch his breath, eyes travelling down to your bare thighs and back to meet yours before he takes a step forward, leading to you taking one back.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are." Oh.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble quietly, trying to avoid his gaze. Though your alone time was cut short before you could finish what you've started, the anticipation and thrill fill your body once again, like you never stopped touching yourself. This is what he does to you.

"Thing is, Y/N.." Kyle takes another step towards you, closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact like his life dependent on it.

"When you start a game.." His hand reaches out to caress your wrist softly before taking it into his hand, lips parted as his suggestive voice spreading a warm heat on your cheeks.

"Be brave enough to finish it."

[moonstruckme]

i love almost everything about rainy days and i was wondering if you could write something where reader is lying in the grass while sprinkles of rain are drizzling over them bc it makes them feel calm and remus finds them is confused but either joins in or maybe sits next to them with an umbrella while they do their thing

Thanks for requesting lovely! This got very sappy haha but I hope you like it <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 661 words

The earth never smells as sweet as when it rains. Even when it’s only drizzling, like now, everything about the world seems soothed. You can practically feel the grass underneath you perking up, the flowers gulping eagerly, the earthworms relaxing into newly softened soil. 

You’re enjoying the cool sprinkling of raindrops on your face, having resigned yourself to having to wash the mud out of your hair and clothes later to lie on the ground, face tipped reverently towards the weeping sky. 

You hear the squish of footsteps coming towards you, but you don’t open your eyes until Remus speaks. “Dove, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I think,” you tease him, “that if I lie here long enough, I’ll grow moss.” 

He chuckles. “You’ll get sick, is what’ll happen.” 

“That’s an old wives’ tale.” 

“Hypothermia isn’t.” 

“Remus.” You reach up, wrapping a hand around his ankle. Your fingers are delicate around his achilles’ tendon. “C’mon, it’s beautiful out.” You close your eyes and inhale deeply, imagining you can feel life blooming in your lungs. 

When you open them again, Remus is looking down at you like you’re a particularly pretty puzzle, half befuddlement and half fondness. 

“You should try it,” you encourage him. “Lay down with me.” 

Remus mutters something about you both catching cold, but a moment later you're shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip, the only warm parts of you where you’re touching him. You lie in silence, listening to the pitter-patter of rain on the earth and the susurrus of the trees as droplets fall from leaf to leaf. You feel the weight of the clouds over you like a blanket, pressing you gently into the soil as it shifts about to make room for you. 

“Isn’t it nice?” you whisper after a while. 

He hums in reply, and you know that he’s feeling the lulling effects of the drizzle. After a moment, the rain stops, and you open your eyes to find Remus leaning over you, his head shielding yours from the rain even as it drips from his nose and the ends of his hair onto your face. You look at each other for a moment, and you admire the way water droplets have caught in his eyelashes and slickened the contours of his face. He seems to be doing a similar perusal of your features, because a tiny smile graces his lips before he touches them to yours. 

You tilt your chin slightly upwards to meet him, but there’s no hunger in the kiss, no desperation. Only a mutual adoration and a sense of shared understanding and gratitude for the fact that you get to experience this world together, at the same time, in the same place. That you’ve found each other in time to lie on the grass on this rainy day. 

Remus’ mouth is warmer than yours and the rainwater is sweet on his lips. Soon you’re smiling too, uncontrollably, and you have to break the kiss before your teeth can clank against his. 

“What’re you giggling about?” he asks fondly. 

“I just—” you laugh, shoulders shaking against the earth “—it’s such a thing, you know? Kissing in the rain. It’s such a cliche.” 

“I think what you mean to say,” Remus says, leaning down to peck you once more, but giving up when you only descend into giggles again, “is that I’m a classic romantic and you love it.” 

“I do,” you say sincerely, grinning up at him. “You are.” 

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll make you a deal. We lie here for a couple more minutes, and then we go inside, shower, and you let me make you some tea.” 

You have the urge to grab Remus by the collar and press your lips to every inch of his face until there’s nothing left of him but rainwater and kisses. But there’ll be time for that later. “If you insist,” you say, and he smiles as he lays back down beside you. 

[astraystayyh]

You and I

In which you wrongly lash out at Hyunjin and have to mend it back. Human character who makes mistakes and apologizes for them.

You've always envied the people who seek others' warmth when they are feeling down. They seem to become almost translucent, allowing their sadness to seep away from them as their loved one comforts them- as their words and touch wrap around them, leaving no room for sadness or anger to exist anymore.

You, however, are quite the opposite.

Whenever an emotion overwhelms you, you instantly withdraw yourself, refusing for anyone to approach you. You can't let anyone touch you or talk to you, not when the feel of your clothes against your skin irritates you, and you swear you can hear the sound of each blood droplet rushing through your veins, unbearably loud.

Hyunjin doesn't know this.

How could he know? How do you tell someone you've been dating for one month that something as simple as regulating your emotions drains you? That you need to hide, for a couple of hours, sometimes days, just to feel a semblance of normalcy again.

So, you kept it hidden, trying your best to still your feelings; akin to the surface of an undisturbed river. It was easy to do so when being with Hyunjin brought you immense joy. It almost lulled you into thinking that you'd stay this way forever- happy, content. But you are human, and you can't escape the very essence of it- emotions in their rawest form.

You wish you could have told him- that you'd prefer being alone and that you'd talk to him when you're feeling well again. But it isn't time for regrets now. Not when the thoughts in your head swirl chaotically, making the world around you blur. You're overwhelmed, by your studies and a voice in your head that never truly quits down. And you can feel Hyunjin looking at you from the corner of your eye.

He's been worried about you all night, asking you if you were okay and if there was something he could do to help. But every question seemed to drive you over the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of exploding.

"Baby, are you sure there is nothing I can do?" he asks for the umpteenth time, placing a hand on your shoulder. His concern is evident, stemming from a genuine place of care. And you want to slap a hand on your mouth to stop the words from tumbling out, but you don't.

"You know what I need Hyunjin? For you to leave me alone. Is that so hard to understand for you?" you question, looking straight ahead. You sense him physically recoil at your words, hand swiftly retracting back near his side. "I already told you what to do, and you're just making it worse. I can't deal with this right now."

A low chuckle emanates from him, it sounds cold and distant- nothing like you've ever heard from Hyunjin.

"Deal with this? You mean, deal with me?" he stands up abruptly, hand running angrily through his hair. "You know what? You've made it abundantly clear what you needed from me. I'm just fucking stupid for being worried." He grabs his jacket, as his words pierce you like a bow shot by Achilles himself.

Really now? You brought this on yourself and now you're feeling sad? Did you expect him to apologize, beg for you? The voice in your head taunts you and your own gets caught in your throat. 'Im sorry, stay, I didn't mean to lash out' You want to plead, but you remain silent as if someone's robbed you of your ability to speak.

"I'm sorry for making it worse for you, you don't have to worry about it ever again," he sounds angry, but you can sense the underlying sadness in his words. Your eyes meet his and the look on his face tears you apart. You've never seen him so... stricken, so severely affected; by your own doing none the less.

Hyunjin slams the door behind him, as an ugly sob escapes your lips. You've hurt him, badly, you aren't sure how to fix it when you can't even fix yourself.

....

Two days have passed. Forty-eight hours of trying to sort out your thoughts, only to have them tangled even further. The reason why you were overwhelmed in the first place fades into the back of your mind. The only thing you could think of was Hyunjin.

He hadn't called or texted, not that you expected him to. He said you didn't have to worry about it anymore, so he's giving you space, lots of space at that. Isn't that what you wanted? It was, but not like this. Not at the expense of hurting him.

You look absolutely disheveled as you knock on Hyunjin's door. It's 5:47 pm, an odd time for reconciliation, at least that's what you hope will happen as Hyunjin opens the door.

He's seemingly taken aback at the sight of you. His eyes swiftly narrow, and you take an unconscious step back at the animosity in his gaze. "What do you want?"

"Can we talk, please?"

Hyunjin scrutinizes you for a moment, his expression guarded. He looks far better than you, but there are newfound dark circles under his eyes. You hope you aren't the cause behind him.

"Come in," he steps away and you enter, uncertainty hanging over the both of you like a heavy fog.

Hyunjin settles on the couch but you remain standing, pacing back and forth as you try to organize your thoughts. Everything you wanted to say seemingly vanished you when you needed it most.

"Sit down. You're making me dizzy," he finally says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You oblige quickly, heels now tapping furiously on the ground.

"Would you like some water?" he asks after a while, and there is a timid softness in his words, one you clung to so you'd be able to breathe again.

"No, thank you." You lick your lips nervously. "Hyunjin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I was mean and rude and I understand that I had hurt you. But it wasn't my intention. It's never ever my intention to hurt you. I care about you too much for that."

"People you care about shouldn't make things worse for you," he points out, refusing to meet your gaze.

"You aren't... I mean, it's not you. It's me."

"Really?" he arches an eyebrow at the stereotypical sentence and you groan, frustrated at your inability to articulate your regret properly.

"Look, I got overwhelmed and when I'm like this, I need to stay alone. It has nothing to do with you, or how I feel for you. And I feel for you a lot, and I'm so scared I'll lose you and I can't seem to speak well-" tears trail down your cheek and you wipe them away angrily. You brought this on yourself, you shouldn't cry on top of it.

"I'm so sorry, immensely sorry, Hyunjin. if you still want me, I promise you I will never do this again. I won't lash out at you, you don't deserve that and it was uncalled for. I'm really sorry."

His silence is deafening as you nervously pick at your cuticles, scratching them over and over in your anxiousness. Why isn't he saying anything?

"Okay, um..." you chuckle nervously, as the bulge in your throat threatens to swallow you whole. "I'll let you think of it. I'm so sorry again. And I'm sorry for coming before asking you if you were busy. I'm sorry to bother you and I'm- I'm sorry I'm this way." You hurriedly stand up, heading towards the door when a warm hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Hyunjin's arms circle your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, anchoring you in place.

"When I'm sad or angry, being near you makes me feel better. It really does. I thought I could do the same for you. That's why I insisted on staying. But I shouldn't have. You and I are different, doesn't mean it's bad," he mumbles onto your neck, tightening his hold on you.

"You've hurt me a lot, but I forgive you because I want us to do better next time. No yelling. No harsh words, okay?"

"Okay. I'll do better. I'm so sorry. So sorry, Hyunjin, you have no idea."

"It's okay. We're good now."

"Really?" you turn around, clutching his arms tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you, stop apologizing," he giggles softly, wiping away the tears trailing down your face.

"I'm sorry, I swear I won't do it again," you apologize again, burying your face in his chest. your tears dampen his shirt but you can't move away. Not that you could in the first place, since his hold on you only tightens further.

"I believe you. Stop crying, please."

"Okay, I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry for saying sorry."

"Shh, baby. No more crying. I missed you," Hyunjin admits softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"I missed you so much more. More than you know."

"Maybe we should start telling each other exactly how much, hm? Not leave it up to imagination."

"Okay, I will. I want to work on this with you. If you want."

"I want to. Couldn't sleep without you."

"I'm so sorry," it slips from your mouth before you can stop it, guilt overflowing from you in waves.

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing, hm?" he questions as he picks you up and spins you around, as a laugh escapes your lips, morphing into full-blown giggles. It is only when a genuine smile graces your lips that Hyunjin puts you down once again.

[blossom-works]

Mommy and Daddy Bear

"Chris! Claire!" Leon calls out to his friends. They are locked inside two Alcatraz jail cells. The Redfield siblings are pale, gritting their teeth from whatever is hurting them. The DSO agent tries to force the cells open, but they are locked shut.

"Look behind you, Leon." Claires points. Her arm is shaking, but she is determined to make her friend look behind him. Following her finger, Leon spots someone else in the cell behind him. The entire room is dark, so he turns on his flashlight.

"Babe!" Leon drops his flashlight and crawls to your cell. Like the Redflields, you are gritting your teeth in pain. Your skin is pale too. Leon reaches inside the cell to cup your cheek. Through his gloves, Leon can feel your rising temperature.

"What are you doing here? What happened? Where are the kids?"

Drowsy, you try your best to answer him. "They...They're with Helena. Some woman tried to ambush us but I managed to hold her off." Your wheezing worries Leon even more. There are two times Leon has seen you in a similar state. Both were when you gave birth to his children.

"Help! Get us out of here!"

Leon turns around and in Claire's cell is Leon's target.

"Antonia Taylor...I'll deal with your ass later." Screw his mission. His wife is more important than bringing in some rouge scientist. He needs to get his wife home to their kids.

Leon rubs your warm cheek as an act of comfort. "I'm gonna get you out of here, sweetheart. Don't worry."

Suddenly, the lights flicker on. Jill and Leon pull out their guns and point them in opposite directions. The man in charge, Dylan Blake, introduces himself and his insane plan to the entire group. One of his bio-drones stings Leon in the back of his neck, weakening the man. From your line of view, you see the same woman who tried to take your children jump down from the floor above.

"You bitch." You groan out. You wish you had your gun on you so you could shoot the woman between her eyes. The woman disarms your weakened husband and kicks him to your cell. Reaching your hand out, you squeeze Leon's shoulder.

"I get it now. The attack. The virus. You got them from Arias. That's why she's here." Leon wheezes out. The virus is coursing through his veins, slowly shutting his body down.

"Leon," You exhale. "That's her. That the bitch that tried to take the kids."

Dylan's voice echoes the large, empty room. "You killed poor Maria's father. It was only fair for her to take away your family, Leon. Unfortunately, we underestimated your wife's condition. Even at three months post-partum, she was able to put up a fight. Left a bruise or two on Maria. I've got to say my friend, you have yourself quite a catch."

"Screw you, you bastard!"

"My kids and wife are innocent! You had no right to go after them!"

Dylan goes on a tangent about how everything the BOW fighters have fought for was a lie. They are nothing but pawns for powerful people to use. Dylan nit-picks at each of them, even you.

"And poor Mrs. Kennedy...I feel bad for you the most. You married a man who is tied down to his endless, grueling job. He even got your family mixed into his mess. What kind of a man does that to his family?"

You defend your husband through your gritted teeth. "Leon didn't do shit to our family. You're the one who endangered our family, asshole! My husband does everything he can to protect us so kindly fuck off!"

Leon has always questioned his ability to protect his family. He is constantly gone throughout the year and for an unknown amount of time. Your husband tries his best to be there for his kids and for you, but work gets in the way. He even worries about being present in their early lives. Leon does not want to miss out on their important firsts. He never wants to end up as the dad who misses out on his kids' school events, games, and recitals. Dylan is good at hitting a man in his Achilles heel.

Maria grabs onto Jill's hand, making her drop her gun from the pressure she applies. To protect their only chance at survival, Leon pulls out a flash grenade and tosses it in the middle of the hallway. When the flash clears, Maria steps onto Leon's chest. The more pressure she uses, the more her heeled boots dig into his skin.

"Leave them, Maria. They're all about to turn anyway."

Reluctantly, the woman obeys. She haughtily looks down at you who is glaring at her. Cursing the woman for going after your family. Silently proclaiming your revenge.

All week and terrified, Leon does his best to distract you from the pain. "How are the kids?"

"They should be fine. Helena was with me when Maria decided to drop by. She took the kids while I stalled Maria." You grip your side in pain. "Man that bitch packs a mean kick."

"She," Leon groans. "She knew where we lived?" You nod. It astonishes you too. Everything about your family is classified thanks to DSO's protocol. Information about their agents and their families is pretty much untouchable with the exception of a few.

Being the angel she is, Rebecca shows up with her vaccines. "Thank goodness I made an extra." She tries to give Leon the vaccine first, but he rejects it. No way is he going to get better while his wife is still sick. When everyone is vaccinated, you all know the battle is almost over.

Picking up Jill's gun, you turn around to face your husband. "Let's go get that bitch."

---

The fight between you, Leon, and Maria is an exhausting one. It takes the two of you a while before your full strength is back. Something must have been injected into Maria because she is what you describe as a "super soldier". Maria is a good fighter, but she fucked with your family. She broke into your home. She tried to go after your precious kids and use them as leverage. The woman fucked with the wrong set of parents. And she put her nasty ass foot on your husband's face! So not cool!

When Leon regains his strength, he double-kicks Maria. His last kick is about to send Maria to her death, but you want to be the one to do it. You take the disheveled Maria and shove her from behind with your foot while bending her body down to a certain level of height. The metal rod sticking out, pierces through Maria's head, killing her instantly. You and Leon have peace of mind knowing that the woman after your family is dead.

Leon drags you away from Maria's body and brings you into his chest. Your hug only lasts a couple of seconds because the control room starts to shake.

"We are so going on vacation after this." You say.

Leon laughs and nods his head in agreement. You guys are definitely booking a trip when you get home. He hopes that Eri will not remember whatever happened in your home. Levi is only a few months old but his sister is two. Leon does not want Maria to be one of Eri's earliest memories. Leon can only hope that your maternal instincts protected Eri from early childhood trauma.

---

The fight on Alcatraz Island is over. The six of you sit outside as you wait for backup to arrive.

"Well...I know what I'm taking away from this."

"What's that?" Rebecca asks.

"Prison tours suck." Leon's dorky remark makes everyone laugh. You lightly shove him to the side before he swings his arm around your shoulder. "So, where we goin' for vacation, love?"

"You were serious about that?" Chris asks. Leon announced that he and his family were going on vacation after this mission, but the BSAA operative thought Leon just said that in the heat of the moment.

You hum. "France? I've always wanted to see the Palace of Versailles and I'm sure Eri would love to go to the Disneyland there."

Claire raises her hand like a kid. "OOO! I wanna go too!" As much as she travels because of one thing or another, it is never where she wants to go and do what she wants to do (besides survive of course).

"France sounds good. Jill? Rebecca?"

Jill shrugs her shoulders and Rebecca says that she could use a vacation after this week.

"Wait a damn minute, It's a family vacation. Kennedy only." You slap your husband's arm for being rude to your friends.

"C'mon babe, these guys are practically family. Besides, free babysitters."

Hearing "free babysitters" immediately changes Leon's mind. He loves his children, but having the chance to have their mother to himself is just too good to pass up. Eri is an easy kid to watch, she just needs to work on her potty-training skills. Levi is formula fed so he does not need to be on your boobs every two or three hours. This means that mommy and daddy can have some uninterrupted "mommy and daddy" time.

"Alright, fine but you guys are paying for yourselves."

---

Story inspired by "Family Matters" by @not-another-leon-blog

[st-el-la-luna]

Syrupy Sweet: Nasty Baker! Soap x Reader

tumblr deleted the orgininal for whatever reason. Luckily I tracked down a reblog. Edited and added some new stuff (love tumblr for deleting my most popular post, rip my 600+ notes 😔)

NSFW 18+

Soap is forced into an early retirement. He gets a job at a small bakery. And that's where he meets you

➔ gn!afab!reader (described as having boobs & wearing a bra), creepy soap, pervy soap, obsessive soap, lust at first sight, non/dub-con cum eating, dirty thoughts, fantasizing, humping inanimate objects, coming in panta

After so many years working in the military, serving his country. Protecting the people of the world from danger. The last thing Soap expected waas tyo be discharged so suddenly and with so little warning.

Too much time working with explosives has affected his hearing. A bad knife wound, or a torn Achilles tendon. A bad break that never healed right. A couple of head injuries too many. 

"An early retirement," they'd called it. Forced retirement more like it. They won't even tell him why, just that he's, "no longer fit for active duty," and that he should be grateful that they, "got him such a nice deal. That he gets to keep his pension."

He’s bitter about it, understandably, He likes his job. He’s good at it. They can’t be serious about this! His performance hasn’t been hindered. 

Regardless of the reason, in spite of his arguments, Soap is benched, permanently. Price is apologetic, Ghost is... Distant, though that's to be expected. Gaz promises to keep in touch. And he does keep in touch, they all do. 

But it’s ot the same. Soap still feels lonely. Bored. He doesn’t know what to do with himself or all the time he suddenly has on his hands. Doesn’t know how to operate without the adrenaline rush, without something to occupy his hands and minds. He figures that, maybe, he should get a job. A civilian job. Not one of those cushy desk jocky jobs Price had offered him out of pity, Soap wants a job far removed from the military. Really reintegrate himself into normal, civvie life. 

After a bit of searching along the drizzly cobbled Glasgowian streets, Soap finds a little coffee shop and bakery nearby. A tiny, quaint little thing, run by a sweet old woman who just doesn't have the energy to keep the doors open on her own. 

The place is situated on a street corner, tucked away from the busy traffic-filled streets. A soft bell jingles when the door opens. The sign is hsand painted. The place, though clearly aged, is well looked after, loved. The wood floors and counters shine; the tables and chairs, though antique, are comfortable, well made; plants hang from the ceiling; and a couple bookshelves line a wall, a leave a book take a book community library. 

Soap applies for the position and despite his lack of experience, he gets the job. Something about him reminding the old woman of her own son. 

At first, Soap worked there with her. Learning the ins and outs of the trade. How to make meringue and bread and macrons and creme brûlé. It's not easy, not at first, but with practice and time, he gets the hang of it. 

He figures it's because of his experience with explosives and chemistry. Baking is... Kind of the same thing. 

Eventually, he's left to tend to the day-to-day affairs of the bakery. The woman still writes all the recipes and makes some of the breads. But he's the one managing the front of the house. 

It's where he meets you. 

Sweet. Kind. Polite. Breathtaking. Irresistible. Sexy. You. 

You come tumbling into the warm bakery on a day when the weather is particularly bad, even for Scotland. Strong winds, cold rains threatening to turn to hail, thunder rumbling in the distance. 

You're soaked to the bone. Hair dripping. Shoes leaving puddles in your wake as each of your steps is announced by a wet squish. Your full cheeks bitten by the cold, fingertips numb, you offer him a blinding smile. 

He's more focused on your tits though. And your bra. Visible through your thin, now see-through, shirt. Black lace. He can see how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take. He can even see a small mole, or maybe a birthmark, on the swell just above the cup of your bra. He wants to sink his teeth into you. Wants to suck that mark into his mouth, chew and lick at it, make it bigger. Make it his. Make you his.  

He's drooling a little, he realizes absently. 

"Hey," you say softly, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. Hands curled into adorable little sweater paws as you try to wipe your wet hands off on your equally wet pants. 

Soap just stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Shell shocked. He... He’s never... You’re so... He... Holy fuck. 

Eventually, he clears his throat and manages a smile, stepping a bit closer to the counter so he can hide the growing tent in his pants. He forces himself to meet your eyes, rather than stare at your chest. 

But they’re staring at me, his innermost thoughts whine, wanton and airy in his mind. So desperate for attention... for love... ready to be suckled and bit and groped and pinched... 

Johnny leans forward, elbows resting on the counter and chuckles, flashing you an easy, charming smile. "Hey... Looking for something to warm you up?" 

Please say you've already found what you're looking for. Please say you want him to warm you up. With his hands. His mouth. His cock. Please say– 

"Yeah... Do you guys do hot chocolates?" 

"It's not on the menu, but I've got my own stash in the back," he says as he looks you up and down. But how could you blame him? What with your... everything! This is your fault, honestly. Dirty, dirty, little thing, wearing a white shirt in the rain. You know what you’re doing. Something sinister and heated bubbles in his gut. A thick, molten, syrupy desire, a primal need. A sort of instinctive pull, a fish lured in by the soft glow of an angler fish. A moth to a flame. Helpless but to stare, slack jawed, and fighting back drool, as you stare up at him expectantly, He smiles, his lips spreading further as he notices your flustered state, how you shift under his stare, biting your lip as he looks you up and down. Logically, it’s a nervous reaction. But, in Soap’s quickly spiraling mind, it’s a clean indicator that you want him too. "I'll make one, special for you, darling." 

Your eyes sparkle, your smile tears the breath from his lungs. "Really? Oh my god, thank you." 

Soap grabs a mug from the shelf and twirls it around his finger. He pulls up his sleeves, bunching them around his mid biceps. He flexes, purposefully, showing off the hard-earned muscles in his arms, the scars, the prominent veins, his big, strong hands. Hands that would look so perfect around your neck. Or holding your wrists. Or deep between your shaking legs reaching deep and good, far past anything you could reach on his own. He wonders if you’re a crier. He hopes that you are. 

Soap notices the way your eyes fall to the newly exposed skin. The way your jaw drops a little. The way you close your mouth. The way you glance away before quickly looking back. The way your throat bobs when you swallow... 

Holy shit. 

He can give you something else to swallow if you'll let him. Please let him. 

He rolls his hips against the counter and lets out a stuttering breath through his nose. His lips part. His tongue feels thick and leaden in his mouth. 

A moan bubbles in his throat, he disguises it as a cough. "Can..." He swallows another noise as he shifts his stance, achingly cock pressed against the teeth of his zipper. He makes a show of dusting the counter off, acting like he's tossed something into the bin so he can adjust his pants. "Can I get you anything else?" 

Your eyes, gorgeous eyes, scan the menu and the display. "A cinnamon bun?" You ask, pointing to the delicacy through the glass case. "Please and thank you." 

"You're in luck," he says, rutting against the counter again, as quick and harsh as he can without drawing attention. A part of him thoough, a sick, twisted, part of him that quickly spreads his mind like a weed, corrupting and poisoning, wants you to notice. Wants you to catch him. To punish him. "Just made a fresh batch... I've just got to head back and ice them." 

"Oh, I'm fine with one of them from the display, you don't need to trouble yourself." 

Oh, and how sweet you are... 

You keep chewing on your bottom lip. Part of him wants to stop you, tell you that that’s his job. Wants to bite your lips until they’re raw and swollen. 

He's fucked. Well and truly fucked. 

He smiles. You’re blissfully ignorant of the darkness lurking in his eyes. "No trouble at all... It's my pleasure." 

And it is his pleasure. Very much so. 

He comes out a bit later, a little out of breath. A little red in the face. A couple buttons undone on his shirt. 

"Hot in there," he says with a smile, setting the mug and a cinnamon bun on the counter in front of you. He sets another little plate down, a doughnut. Chocolate frosting with a cream filling, the sticky white substance still pouring from the hole. 

"I uh, I didn't order that," you say with a little, awkward laugh. "The doughnut." 

"I know you didn't, sweet thing... It's a new recipe I've been trying out. Trying to get right... Mind telling me what you think? It's free of charge, promise." 

"Oh," you blink, staring up at him with those wide eyes. God, how he wants to see those eyes watering. How he wants to see those eyes tearing up as you choke on his cock. How he wants to see you cry as he fucks you. You smile. "Thank you!" 

You pay for your drink and dessert and blink up at him from under your lashes. Your smile turns shy as you chew your lip. Stop it. Stop it. You’re going to make him lose his mind. You have to know what you’re doing to him. You have to. "Keep the change." 

He smiles. "Thanks." 

You find a seat in the corner and settle in the corner with a book. Soap keeps an eye on you the whole time. Watches you as much as he can without attracting unwanted attention. 

His cock throbs in his pants when he sees you take your first bite of the cinnamon roll. When you wipe at the icing with your thumb and lick it clean. He watches with delight as you eat and drink, rolling his hips against the counter in time with the bobbing of your throat as you swallow. 

Soap watches you with rapt attention as you enjoy the desserts. His lips parted, jaw slack, drooling. He wonders if he could convince you to lick it away. He is so glad that he stopped by the office to record the security footage. He’s going to be watching this over and over and... Fuck! 

With a final grind of his aching cock against the counter, his boxers are flooded with a wet, sticky warmth. He mourns it going to waste like that. His cum belongs in you. Your tight pussy, round ass, past your full lips. 

"How was it?" He asks, breathless, when you return your dishes to the counter. He shifts his stance, hiding the wet spot in his pants. He's not embarrassed that he came in his pants just from watching how your throat moves as you swallow. At watching the way that you lave your tongue over your fingers, licking the thick glaze away with a spit-slicked tongue. 

He just doesn't want to weird you out. 

"It was amazing," you say. "I really liked the balance of the sweet with the salty... Sometimes the sugar is just... Too much." 

"I agree," Soap says, breathless. He swallows a lump in his throat. "I agree." 

You become a regular from then on. He always gets you freshly baked items, from the back. No matter how busy. 

He's not supposed to alter the recipes. But he doubts the lady will mind that he made a change. All he did was put a little love into the recipes. A little bit of himself in the sour cream glaze. 

Keep your eyes peeled for a part 1.5 involving what soap did in the back room!

Comments and reblogs help motivate!

Masterlist!

[randoimago]

I see you’re doing Hades again! Could you do something with Zagreus x Reader where the reader is a smith in asphodel who offers to make Zagreus armor (maybe as a payment to get out of a contract of some kind?) and over a bunch of escape attempts they fall in love? Bonus points if reader is friends with Eurydice and Eurydice is So Done with the pining and obliviousness (it’s not like Zagreus shows up randomly, he picks which doors to open)

Mutual Pining

Fandom: Hades

Character(s): Zagreus

Note(s): I had a lot of inspo with this request so I hope you enjoy what I wrote <33

The first time he stepped through your door and saw you instead of Eurydice did cause some surprise to appear on his face. But he still greeted you politely. You introduced yourself and when he learned you're an armor smith, well that intrigued him.

And then he found himself visiting you more, bringing nectar as thanks for the upgraded bracers or shoes or whatever armor piece he chose when you gave him the options. He learned more about you and in exchange talked a bit about himself.

Then one day, he's going through the door in hopes to meet you. But then he sees Eurydice instead. It shouldn't surprise him too much since the doors don't exactly have the faces of who he'll be visiting. But he can't help feeling a tad let down. Zagreus still puts a smile on because he does like Eurydice a lot. She still sees through it and asks him about it.

Eurydice can't help but visit you after Zagreus leaves, you explaining that you were very busy and that's why your door wasn't available for him. But she sees through that to the fact that you're sulking too. She is very intrigued to see where this relationship goes. Only for it to go nowhere because you're both too shy or scared of whatever excuse you both have.

"So the kid visited you again?" There's a hint of smugness to Eurydice's voice as she asks you this question. She knows that Zagreus visits you often. He's mentioned it a couple times when he has visited her because your door wasn't around (it was amusing to see the prince sulk a bit).

You already know where she's going with her question, but she continues before you can say anything. "Look, I get it. Love is scary, you don't want to admit you're in love. I will spill everything if I have to deal with you both sulking because you haven't seen each other the next time he runs through."

While Eurydice is the sweetest lady you know (the only one really besides the few that Zagreus has told you about), she can be very scary when she starts threatening. So you, reluctantly, promise that you'll at least attempt to say something the next time he comes through.

Of course, what you don't know, is she gave this same speech to Zagreus before. He had said he was trying to find a nice gift in exchange for all the armor you give him. Something that isn't the same nectar and ambrosia. Eurydice gave him a list of things you like and he has been doing his best to find some of the items.

Zagreus had personally asked his father if he could do something so that your room showed up in Asophodel. While he tried to dodge any questions thrown his way, he saw his mother giving a knowing smile and she helped persuade Hades for him. Zagreus was relieved to get out of that situation and now his heart pounds as he feels the blistering heat around him with the icon of the door that leads to you.

Zagreus did bring some nectar for you, but he also has another gift. What he didn't expect is to see you having something more than armor for him. He takes the bracers from you before sitting down as you present him with some food. You explain that Eurydice helped you make it and that you hope he likes it. And of course he does, as he hands you a gift from Elysium, his own explanation being that Achilles and Patroclus helped him pick out something worthy enough for you.

While it's not quite a confession from either side, it's obvious that the feelings are there and there's more than just pining. Zagreus promises that you both will go fishing for his next run when he looks like less of a mess. He isn't expecting the kiss you give to his cheek, but his bright smile lets you know that he very much enjoyed it.

[ewyuzu]

a fake relationship

nanami kento x reader

a/n: interested to read more? click here!

the school bell rings, echoing through the hallways as students spill out of classrooms, chatting, laughing, and groaning over the latest assignments. you're in no particular rush, meandering through the crowded corridor on your way to your locker. most of your friends have already left, probably heading to the café nearby or the library. but you? you have a different kind of problem to face—one that's been plaguing you all semester: math.

you open your locker with a sigh, tossing in a textbook and pulling out your crumpled math test results. a large, angry red 48/100 glares back at you from the paper, and you wince. it's the third failed math test this month. no matter how hard you try, no matter how many formulas you attempt to memorize, numbers just don't seem to click in your brain. you stuff the paper into your bag, muttering under your breath.

"great. just great."

you're not dumb—far from it. you're a pretty solid student in most subjects, but math? math is your achilles' heel. and you can already picture the conversation with your parents at dinner tonight. they've been on your case about your grades, and if they find out about another flunked exam, well... that's a disaster you're not ready to deal with.

as you slam your locker shut with more force than necessary, you catch a glimpse of nanami kento. he's standing at his locker not far from yours, his face set in that calm, unreadable expression he always wears. neat, composed, a little too perfect, really. you've never spoken more than a few words to him in class, but he's hard not to notice. he's the kind of guy who seems like he has everything figured out—top of the class, disciplined, never flustered by anything.

you're about to turn away when a shrill voice rings through the hallway.

"nanami-kun!"

a group of girls is lingering nearby, one of them stepping forward with a bright, flirtatious smile. "are you free after school? maybe we could study together?"

the girl's voice is sweet, her smile almost rehearsed, like she's done this a hundred times before. it's no secret that nanami is one of the most sought-after guys in school, and girls are always trying to get his attention.

you pause, pretending to fix your bag as you watch out of the corner of your eye, already knowing how this will go.

without even looking up from his locker, nanami replies, "i'm busy."

his voice is polite but detached, and the girl's smile falters. she quickly tries to recover. "oh, well... maybe another time?"

nanami doesn't respond, continuing to organize his books like she's not even there.

the girl fidgets awkwardly before giving up, walking back to her friends with a disappointed shrug. you can hear them whispering and giggling as they retreat down the hall. you almost feel bad for her—but at the same time, it's no surprise. nanami has this way of effortlessly deflecting attention, and yet, that only seems to make people more interested in him.

you snap out of your thoughts, turning to leave, but as you sling your bag over your shoulder, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey."

the deep, calm voice startles you, and you turn to find nanami kento standing right next to you. your heart skips a beat. you're not used to him being this close, let alone speaking to you directly.

"uh, hey?" you reply, trying not to sound as confused as you feel. why is nanami kento talking to you of all people?

he glances around briefly, then lowers his voice, his expression serious. "i need to ask you for a favour."

your eyebrows shoot up. a favour? from nanami? you're intrigued, to say the least. "what kind of favour?"

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the group of girls still lingering at the end of the hallway. then, with that same calm composure, he says, "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

what?

for a second, you're sure you misheard him. "excuse me?"

"a fake relationship," he clarifies. "it'll be temporary."

you blink at him, completely thrown off. this was not the kind of favor you were expecting.

"okay..." you say slowly. "why would you need a fake girlfriend?"

nanami's eyes shift toward the group of girls again, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features. "lately, i've been getting a lot of unwanted attention," he explains, his voice low but steady. "it's distracting, and i don't have the time or interest to deal with it."

you take a second to process his words, your mind still trying to catch up. the most composed, serious guy in school needs a fake girlfriend to fend off admirers? it almost sounds ridiculous. but then again... you look at him—stoic, serious, perfectly put-together. you can see why people would constantly try to break down his walls.

"and you think this'll work?" you ask, crossing your arms skeptically.

nanami's expression doesn't change. "yes. people will lose interest once they see i'm already in a relationship."

you chew your lip, still unsure. "okay, but... why me?"

he turns his gaze to you, his eyes steady. "because you're not caught up in that drama. you're not the type to spread rumors, and you're not interested in unnecessary attention."

he has a point. you've always kept a low profile, and you don't really involve yourself in school gossip. but still...

"and what's in it for me?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

nanami doesn't hesitate. "i'll help you with whatever you need—homework, projects. you need help with math, don't you?"

your stomach flips at the mention of math. of course, nanami would know that. he's in your class, after all, and you've failed more than enough tests for it to be common knowledge by now. but still, hearing it from him—someone who probably never struggles with any subject—stings a little.

"how do you know that?" you mutter, crossing your arms defensively.

nanami raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "i've seen your test results. you're not bad in other subjects, but math is holding you back."

you're about to snap something back, but you stop yourself. he's right. you've been struggling in math all semester, and it's been dragging your grades down. if you fail one more test, your parents will lose it.

"and you're offering to tutor me?" you ask, the skepticism still clear in your voice.

nanami nods. "in exchange for this arrangement."

the offer is tempting—really tempting. it's not like you have any better ideas for improving your math grades, and having nanami, the top student, help you? that could actually save your skin. but at the same time, agreeing to a fake relationship with him? it's crazy.

you glance at nanami again. his expression is calm, composed, but there's something else in his eyes—something genuine. he's not asking for this because he wants attention or drama. he just wants peace.

after a long pause, you sigh. "fine. i'll do it."

for the first time, nanami's expression softens just a little—a flicker of relief, maybe. "thank you."

you smirk, a little more at ease now. "but if you flunk me in math, this deal is off."

nanami chuckles lightly—something you've never heard from him before. "you won't."

as you walk down the hallway together, the weight of the deal you've just made starts to sink in. you're about to dive into something completely unexpected, and who knows how this will all play out?

but one thing's for sure: your school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

[cainsau]

Just Between Us || The Boys Imagine

(Platonic) Hughie Campbell x GN!Reader (Platonic) Kimiko Miyashiro x GN!Reader

Summary: Set in S4E4. Hughie and Kimiko arrives at the office thinking it would be empty. But there you are, wondering where they've been and whose blood are on their clothes.

Warning: Spoilers for S4E4, ankle injury

Ever since you became a part of The Boys, you find yourself watching news on the TV more often. The people they put on the screen are not reliable most of the time. The information they share differ from what truly happened, but that's what makes it entertaining, the fact that you know they're blatantly lying through their teeth.

The TV lights up the office with its flashing, but dim colors. You don't even bother turning on the lamps, because you don't plan to stay there long.

As the presenter moves on to talk about a recent incident with Firecracker and Starlight, the door to the office opens.

Kimiko and Hughie enters, their arms supporting each other up. Kimiko's shirt is ripped off, and Hughie has a makeshift cast on his ankle. Both of them have blood on their faces and clothes, looking like they just got hit by a car or something.

You immediately get up from your seat, hurrying to help them. "What the hell happened to you two?"

As you help Hughie to a chair, Kimiko sits down and takes out her phone to type. 'We met A-Train, then got attacked by Shining Light.'

"A-Train? Are you serious? What were you guys doing with him?"

Kimiko glances frustratingly at Hughie, who is sitting on the chair next to her. He's oddly quiet. Then, she types on her phone again, 'He made a deal with him.'

"What deal?" You ask him, but he looks away.

Instead, Kimiko types, 'Getting a compound v.'

"I just-" He finally speaks, "It's the only way i can save my dad, okay?"

You let out a sigh, unable to argue. If you could save someone you love by turning them into a supe, you totally would too. At this moment though, you can't really say that out loud, so you decide to just get a medkit and patch them up.

'Treat him first. He can't heal like i do.'

"Alright." So you grab a chair and place it near him. Sitting down, you open the medkit, then gesture to him, "Give me your injured foot."

He puts his foot up, resting it on your lap, while Kimiko cleans herself beside you.

"Did you do this?" You ask Kimiko about the splint. She nods with a small smile. You return the smile, "Nice."

Carefully, you start cutting the tape of his DIY splint, then takes off his shoe and sock, revealing his bruised ankle. It's blue and a bit swollen. You take out the elastic bandage from the medkit and ask him, "Do you know how to properly wrap a bandage around your ankle?"

"No, uh, i don't..."

"Alright." You assure him, "I'll teach you right here so you can do it yourself later. Pay attention, yeah?"

He nods, and watches as you start with the bridge of his foot, around the bottom, then to his achilles tendon, and back to the bridge, which then you repeat until the roll is out. Lastly, you put the two clips on, and ensure they don't fall off.

"It feels so much better now, thanks a lot." He says, "How did you learn to do that though?"

You shrug, "I've sprained my foot before. Couldn't walk properly for a few weeks."

"You're telling me, i won't be able to walk for a few weeks?"

"Not really. You could walk a bit, earlier, right? So i'm guessing your injury is not as bad as mine. Just don't put your weight on it, and also, it would be better if you position it above your heart to let the blood flow."

He let out a breath, "Alright." Then moves the foot to a desk.

Kimiko pokes your shoulder to get your attention, then turns around, pointing to a spot on her back that has blood on it.

"You want me to help clean it?" You ask, to which she nods. "Of course."

The injury on that spot has already healed, but not completely. From the shape, you guess it was a gunshot. You shake your head. Sure, she's a supe who can regenerate, but it must've been painful to experience all that.

"You said you were attacked by Shining Light people," you say as you use a wet cotton on her injury, "What were they doing over there? I thought you were just making a deal with A-Train?"

She picks up her phone, and types, 'I killed a bunch of them, and they came for me.'

"Wait, you killed them? When?"

'A while ago.'

"You mean, that time when you left with Frenchie?"

She nods.

"I see."

You finish cleaning her injury, then tidy up the medical tools as Hughie also finished patching up a cut on his thigh by himself.

He then speaks up, "I'd really appreciate it if you don't tell the others about today."

"To be honest, they'll probably know sooner or later." You reply, which causes Hughie to look down in guilt. Then, you continue with a reassuring smile, "But yeah, don't worry, i'll keep this whole thing just between us."

[vacillantvoid]

branzy and clownzy webweaves as @mcyt-halloween gift for @zeteri-art! hope you like them :)

nervous systems @doglets (deactivated) - situations @screenshotsofdespair - you're desparate @screenshotsofdespair - misery @thatsbelievable - sucker @adjpngs - The Fall, Albert Camus - chapters @screenshotsofdespair - film frames @adjpngs - abyssal choice @screenshotsofdespair - Purple Flowers, Morgane Le Breton - knives @s4dpngs - heart bandaid @adjpngs - 0/2 good decisions @screenshotsofdespair

paper scraps @adjpngs - How Festive the Ambulance, Kim Fu via @geryone - Brute, Emily Skaja via @geryone - occupation @screenshotsofdespair - Deal with the Devil, Wikipedia - because you love @screenshotsofdespair - you might enjoy @screenshotsofdespair - heart dice and drawings @adjpngs - heart @adjpngs - I love you and it's getting worse, Joseph E. Morris - paper label @adjpngs - The Winner's Kiss, Marie Rutkoski - Stigmata: Escaping Texts, Hélène Cixous - holding hands @adjpngs - vulnerability @achillics - Untitled, Louise Bourgeois

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey, if you're interested in another idea, would you like to write the reactions of the various characters to the dyslexic MC? (and therefore low self-esteem) ❣️❣️❣️

HLC REACT TO DYSLEXIC MC

It's not that MC couldn't read, they just had to do it slowly. Sometimes they'd have to stare at a sentence for several minutes before it made sense. Some days were better than others. While sometimes it would just be a letter or two out of place, sometimes it would be entire paragraphs looking like someone spilled alphabet soup on the page. They prayed to any higher power that would listen that they would never have to read in front of the class. It was bad enough to struggle doing homework reading assignments.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He reads like a Timelord, so he'll struggle with the idea that someone just can't read words sometimes. He'll be interested to learn about their condition, but MC will still have to remind him to be patient. If MC really struggles with learning something new, he'll gladly help them, for a price. He likes having friends in his dept.

OMINIS GAUNT: He learned how to read relatively late in life because of his blindness, so he still has to take his time. Don't even get him started on writing. Even with his wand, writing in a straight line with a quill is challenging. And POTIONS, UGH! Needless to say, he relates. Misery loves company.

ANNE SALLOW: She's not as voracious with reading like her brother, so she's far more compassionate in encouraging MC to take their time. The professors give lots of time when they're reading assignments usually and they shouldn't fret about it. If they have real concerns in the class, just talk to the professors. She is sure they'll understand.

IMELDA REYES: She genuinely believes MC can't read for the first couple months of the year. Did MC expect to just learn through osmosis by staring down their textbooks? Even after an explanation, it just sounds like excuses to her.

NATSAI ONAI: She's more of a doer than a reader herself, so she relates a little bit. She offers to help MC through their assignments by doing the reading for them and then explaining it verbally or through demonstration. She's not going to let her bestie fail just because their brain sees books as word jumbles.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He understands, but more under the pretense that he just has a hard time focusing because his brain is constantly elsewhere. Trial and error is the best way to learn anyway. If you don't understand it, wing it. It's worked for him so far.

LEANDER PREWETT: He can't help but poke a little bit of fun at the fact that MC actually does have an Achilles heel and is not perfect at everything. If this genuinely bothers them, he'll apologize. Reading's not all it's cracked up to be anyway, just about everything at Hogwarts can be learned verbally. They shouldn't stress about it too much.

AMIT THAKKAR: He's quite the avid reader, so while he's sharing his favorite books and lessons, he may accidentally come across as condescending. MC Just has to tell him once what they're dealing with and he'll offer to help. He can easily break down many of the professors reading lessons down into more simplified paragraphs to make them easier to read.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He doesn't have perfect vision, so while he's not dyslexic, he can relate to MC's esteem. Kids can be cruel to those they think show weakness. He has a sack full of dung bombs for anyone who bothers MC about their dyslexia.

POPPY SWEETING: She believes MC just needs a nice calm environment for their reading. No distractions or loud noises to bother them while they're focusing. The vivariums are perfect! The beasts never judge how quickly someone reads if MC would like to practice reading out loud.

ELEAZAR FIG: He knows early on they have trouble reading. Not to worry, he's dealt with this sort of thing before, comes with the territory of being a professor. He's very patient with them and lets them read at their own pace. When he can manage it, he'll try to keep lessons verbal and with illustrations instead of written words.

[chaos0pikachu]

Film Making? In My BL? - The Sign ep01 Edition

So, if we're doing this we're doing this, so buckle in baby.

I'm gonna focus how the opening scene below, uses two narrative devices and one film technique to build out the scene as a whole: in media res, misdirection, and the long take.

Okay so to begin, we have to start at the beginning, or well, the middle lmao

In Media Res

I saw a post in the tag that said something to the effect of how The Sign starting with no context and providing no information at the beginning was strange, with the implication it was bad writing. I disagree, fundamentally, because The Sign is using a very common literary device called 'In Media Res'. And in my opinion, uses this device very well.

If you're familiar with basic storytelling terms I ain't telling you anything new, but for folks who may not know, in media res is a latin term that means "in the midst of things" and lots of stories - both prose, comics, and film - use this device.

The most famous is The Iliad by Homer, which if you've ever read - and you should it's glorious also it'll give some context to Song of Achilles - you know it drops you full-on no context into the middle of things. The beginning will differ in verbiage depending on the translation you pick up, this free version starts with:

THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON. In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the neighboring towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captives, Chryseis and Briseis, allotted the first to Agamemnon, and the last to Achilles.

Right off the bat the story drops four character names and the setting with no real context. Who are all these people? Why is there a war? Well, keep reading to find out! It also starts the story with an action aka an argument - nay A CONTENTION!! Achilles and Agamemnon are such bratty bitches lol

Other (more mainstream) examples include:

The Dark Knight

Lost

28 Days Later

Mission Impossible (pick one)

Fight Club

Full Metal Alchemist (both)

MDZS

Inception

And, The Sign.

"In contrast to linear storytelling, which starts at the beginning and moves sequentially, in medias res is a nonlinear approach that can make stories more dynamic and immersive.

It's a technique that challenges the audience to make sense of the narrative puzzle, often revealing essential information about the characters and their motivations gradually." (source)

What's described above is exactly how The Sign, starts it's story, in the middle of things, specifically to create a puzzle for the audience to figure out gradually. If you watch the above scene, what's happening?

We get a (well done) overshot of an island (establishing setting), we see a group of soldiers (establishing the characters we'll be following) we see them doing military things (okay these are their skills, and they're on some sort of mission), their drone spots a group of people inside and a character says the dialogue "Listen up, you only have 15 minutes" (this establishes stakes, okay there's a time limit to this mission) "Team A will rescue the hostage" (okay now we know what the mission is and informs these characters are on a rescue mission).

Who is speaking here? We don't know yet, but a safe assertion would be this character, since they are the first character who speaks on screen, will be important.

And we'd be right because it's Phaya speaking, one of our main protagonists as well soon find out.

All this happens within the first minute; the show provides an interesting set-up. It deals out information in tidbits - setting, characters we'll be following, situation set-up, stakes - but not enough information for the audience not to ask questions.

I want to iterate that at this point, the goal isn't to "care" about the characters yet, so much as create an intriguing set-up based in action that will showcase various information about the tone, setting, and skills of the piece that will engage the audience. To make the audience ask questions, to engage with them.

When you open up on MDZS the protagonist, Wei Wuxian is dead and we have no context for this. Everyone is just in the middle of celebrating his death and we, the readers, do not care that he's dead or why he died. The story could have started in a more linear way, with him arriving at Cloud Recesses arguably the beginning of his journey, but would that have been as interesting? As engaging?

I like how this article breaks down the why of starting your story in media res is a powerful and often used device:

This is what The Sign is doing in this opening part. Starting the action of the series off with action and creating that immediate engagement. The scene also ends with a plot twist which connects to that final point about information control.

This isn't a technique I've seen often used in BL because BL is a sub-genre of romance and most romances are told in chronological order, rather than non-linearly - there are, of course non-linear romances, but most mainstream romances, and by extension most BL aren't told in this way - BL shows don't often have actual physical action. A majority, especially in Thailand, are grounded, closer to slice-of-life, coming-of-age, and comedy dramas - though we are starting to see a change in that trend.

So starting in the middle of things, like chepa the middle of what? Two dudes walking~ to Engineering class?

The goal of this opening scene is to pull in the audience, make them wonder and ask questions: "who are these characters? will they rescue the hostages? who are the bad guys? who is this character who's having visions?" and so on and so forth. It's a way to engage in the audience without having to slow down the narrative with a ton of exposition, or build up stakes slowly, rather it grabs the audience immediately and sets them in the middle of the tension asking them to engage with what's happening.

The Long Take

You've probably heard about "the long take" but to break it down, a long take is one continuous take without any edits/cuts. The film 1917 was famously filmed to "look" like one long take. One of the most cited and well known long takes is from Children of Men by Alfonso Cuarón:

Now if you watch this movie you can tell why there isn't a lot of BL long takes because, god damn, they built a new type of car just to get that one scene. [read here for more on long takes]

So, The Sign. It's long take starts at about 2:08, following Phaya - again, we the audience don't know this is Phaya BUT since the camera is spending specific time with him we assume he is An Important Character and he is! Set up and payoff! Funny how that works - and ends at around 4:27.

[Sidenote I love that the take ends, not with a cut but a transition. Which I'll cover in another post but in the land of Thai BLs which favor cuts so damn much transitions were so refreshing to see]

During this long take, we establish that these characters are competent at what they do. We understand that they're military trained, in both hand-to-hand combat and firearms. We also get these two mid-close ups, which signifies these will be Important Characters:

And they are, the first shot is of Phaya, Khem and Thongthai and the second is Tharn and Yai.

This also sets-up the character dynamics; Yai and Tharn are already close and know each other so they are drawn to each other while on the mission, while Khem and Thongthai have a pre-established relationship but are still supporting behind Phaya.

This type of shot also allows for the audience to better see and follow the fighting that's happening on screen. Filming fight scenes are their own beast, and while there's no one school of thought on how a film scene "should" be filmed, there are techniques that that place some fight scenes above others.

The first video showcases some techniques on how to film a fight scene, while the second one at the 8min mark talks about the long take in John Woo's classic action film Hard Boiled.

This long take in Hard Boiled really showcases why long takes are so powerful in filming a fight scene specifically. They pull the audience further into the action and create a palpable energy that just works better than a scene with lots of quick cuts.

There's a reason one of the biggest criticisms of Mortal Kombat (2021) was that all the fights were edited to pieces while John Wick (2014) was a refreshing jolt to the industry.

The Sign takes a page out of John Woo's book, and places the characters, and the physicality of the scene front and center, pulling the audience along with the camera in one long shot.

Long takes are hard, I can't really emphasize this enough, if you watched that video on Children of Men you can see all the intricate work that went into scenes that amounted to maybe 5mins of actual film time. Likewise this long take in The Sign is only about 2mins of actual time in the show BUT it's effective, it's engaging, its ambitious.

Which is why, I gotta give The Sign it's roses because of that ambition. Long takes are a lot of hard work, time, effort, blocking, rehearsals, on top of incorporating the fight chorography that's a lot and it looks good.

Now is this the best~~~ long take I've ever seen? lol no god but it's well done and ambitious especially for the sub-genre of BL.

Misdirection

Misdirection has more in common with in media res than the long take as it's a literary device and not a filming technique.

From Gotham Writers:

"In fiction misdirection can be either external or internal. That is, the author can be using the story as a frame to misdirect the reader, or a character in the story may be misdirecting one or more of the other characters. Or, of course, both." (source)

Misdirection is often used in thrillers or mystery narratives, Hitchcock used misdirection a lot in his films.

In Psycho the audience is lured to believe that Marion, the character the film opens with, builds up, and essentially sets up as our protagonist, is in fact our protagonist. She's not, she's murdered and her sister, Lila, is the actual protagonist of the movie. Sorry if this is a spoiler for an almost 70 year old film lmao

Misdirection is often used to set-up plot twists down the line. A good misdirection will leave clues for the audience when they watch back and go, "oh! I can't believe I missed that!"

In film The Sixth Sense is a good example of this, where the plot twist at the end doesn't weaken the film once you know it but rather, it enhances the film itself on a rewatch. Another good example of misdirection in film are both Knives Out and Glass Onion, where Rian Johnson will set up a non-linear story and then slowly unravel the information for the audience.

Take the scene where Marta, in Knives Out, finds Fran's body and hears Fran say "it was you" at least to audience ears. Then stands up looming above Fran's body. The scene cuts, and the audience is led to believe Marta has let Fran die to protect herself (since we the audience also have been led to believe Fran is dead) only to find out later that Marta didn't let Fran die, she is alive, and she knew Ransom was the killer.

The Sign uses misdirection in a much more simple way. It sets up an expectation: Phaya is going to die, upping the stakes from "must save hostages" to "must save a comrade" aka the character we, the audience, have been following for the last 11 minutes. It sets two characters, Chart and Phaya, as opposing against each other, for reasons we don't know - is Chart one of the villains? Why is he trying to kill Phaya? etc - and the audience is led to believe this is a life or death situation.

Then, plot twist. The reveal happens that this was all a training exercise, and there was never any "real" danger whilst also keeping the audience on their toes. And like in The Iliad, now we have context for the mission, and then the story is able to step back and explain.

It's not like, the best~~~ use of misdirection but there was a purpose to it. It sets up an expectation, and subverts that expectation of the audience - but in a good way not a Game of Thrones way. While also pulling the audience into the show by starting in the middle of the action rather than slowing down the story with exposition or giving their hand away to much that this was a training exercise.

If you knew it was a training exercise, suddenly the stakes feel less intense because none of the characters are in any real danger, but not knowing that, withholding that information until it's relevant, ups the stakes of the scene.

The opening scene of The Sign imparts a lot of information without using a lot of dialogue and I find that impressive. We learn which characters will be relevant to the story - Phaya, Tharn, Yai, Khem, Thongthai and now we know, Chart is also important - that they are skilled combat fighters, knowledgeable in firearms, there's a fantasy element to the story via Tharn's visions, they're on an island which the setting for right now, and the tone and aesthetic of the show itself.

It's actually a fun scene to rewatch again with more context because I appreciated it even more. Which is just good film making.

I didn't talk much about the camera work - needless to say it's notable and fun - but maybe I'll save that for the next post. What other shows or scenes would be fun to breakdown? Drop me a line but heads up I don't actually watch a ton of shows so idk if I've seen xyz show lmao

Later chepies ✌️✌️

Other posts in the series:

Aspect Ratio in Love for Love's Sake | Cinematography in My BL - Our Skyy2 vs kinnporsche, 2gether vs semantic error, 1000 Stars vs The Sign | How The Sign Uses CGI

[like these posts? drop me a couple pennies on ko-fi]

[barrenclan]

I was about to say ‘maybe Malmo would suit Barrenclan’ but uh Rainhaze isn’t looking too hot and youch

ANYWAYS I think the song Malmo by Moon might suit Barrenclan as I mentioned before, specifically the popular part (it’s always the popular part)

Three of us sleep next to three others

(Not sure who it’d match)

It's hot and we rot in this oven

(referring to Barrenclan’s environment)

Now there's something about the language

(followed by next part, but maybe Rainhaze about the welcoming of death or injury in Defiance)

Something about these people

(Pinepaw with the new scar or maybe Corm or maybe Rain. I think they could all decently match??)

That look an awful lot like me

(Same as before, Pinepaw with the new scar or maybe Corm or maybe Rain. maybe even talking about Slug right now too)

I'm surprisingly accepting of this discomfort

(Why I said Rain is at this point (right before death but close enough) is because he didn’t seem to mind it anymore)

But I'm not trying to be much of a person right now

(don’t know)

I'm just trying to get some sleep

(Pine with the nightmares and now grief. also with the shock.)

Not sure if these actually match but they seem close enough and I’m very tired anyways OH MY RAIN HOLY BDDBXBBBDB

Wow, Paul Dano is in this band? That's cool. I like your analysis of the lyrics!

Why it's an absolute classic! In terms of characters I think it fits Deepdark a bit better than Rainhaze, though.

Do I even need the lyrics for I Can't Decide?

ANOTHER classic! I like this one sort of swapping off between Slugpelt and Rainhaze, where he's trying to get her to come back to him in their youth, but now it's flipped the other way.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you

This one's been suggested a couple times, but I still really like it with Slugpelt, so here it is again.

I don't this it has! Ah, I recognize it from IncuriousCat, of course. They're very popular on this blog it seems. Rainhaze is a good character for song about making bad deals.

I'ma make a deal with the bad wolf So the bad wolf don't bite no more

My enemy is a friend of mine in a friendly place to be seen, hey You know I'll run away for a couple years just to prove I've never been free

Has Ride the Cyclone has a re-emergence? I feel like I've seen it a lot lately. It's nice to have a song with old BarrenClan anyways, before all the tragedy and drama.

What the world needs Is people like me To keep it all spinning around I'm the mover, I'm the shaker, I'm the headline-maker

He put it into words, and it's plain to see We need a little less of them A little more of me!

Yeah, I think you could chuck this in a Rainhazeward direction!

All this time, I've felt like my time to go would arrive That it can't last forever; I've been decaying Moldy scaffolding, ritual strangling No matter what I try, I seem to stay alive

My body should be cold The eyes of maggots gazing through to my soul I left so long ago Behind me are the tears I couldn't control

HOORAY! I'm a big Pink Floyd fan. It'd be so cool to see a "Trial" scene with him as Pink and all the other characters as the other roles.

Day after day, the love turns gray Like the skin of a dying man And night after night, we pretend it's all right But I have grown older, and you have grown colder And nothing is very much fun any more

Oooh, Bauhaus! Also a big fan of them. That's a good alternate voice claim for Deepdark, too.

Thank you, it is! I'm always taking more song asks, of which I have got quite a few. I'm glad you like the comic!

May you die wide awake With a look of great surprise May your eyes be taken just Before you can weep As you see what you stole stolen from you <- yuuuup rainhaze

Aww, that makes me sad. But it does fit well with them.

I dreamt I found you hanging I didn't know what it meant Your eyes would follow me through Everywhere I went

The window on the fifth floor Shattered as you wept What am I witnessing? What stories have you kept?

Damn ran outta links, I thought I got it this time

[sealrock]

10. stable

cw: depiction of trans pregnancy word count: 983 words

"Do you think we can give this baby a stable life?"

Andromache's question filtered back into Achille's mind, though it came back nearly four moons too late now that he was holding said baby in his arms.

While it was easy not to think about before her arrival, Achille couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety settle in his heart as he watched Paris, the oddly masculine name her parents bestowed her, slumbered against his shirt. He found himself gently stroking her slick black hair, and he was suddenly reminded of the day his younger brother was born. Protected by soft swaddling clothes, a gift from Hector's mother, Paris looked like his brother, and most newborn babies—wrinkly, pale, and a bit ugly.

A soft orange glow filled the room from the open window, the fresh air trickling inside as the summer sun took its leave behind the treeline. Achille's ears picked up the call of cicadas, crickets, and frogs as they announced dusk's arrival in the forest beyond. A few hours had passed since Paris came into the world, screeching to anyone who would listen, but Achille felt like time hadn't moved since. He forgot how long he sat in this chair, he couldn't feel anything except the delicate weight of an infant—his loved ones' infant—in his arms. She had a startling amount of strength as her hand gripped his thumb, her fingers too stubby to reach the other side.

On the bed lay Hector, drained and a little wan, sound asleep and bundled in blankets, his long hair unbound. Despite the mugginess of the day, Hector was shivering like he had been in a snowstorm. Andromache, high off of pure adrenaline for the last seventy-two hours, crashed unsurprisingly after the delivery, her upper body halfway on the bed while she sat seated on Hector's left side, their hands intertwined. Achille wasn't allowed inside the birthing room, not that he wanted to be in there, the screams of pain and cries of agony were enough to keep him outside the house entirely. He did his best to offer Andromache some support, the girl unable to do much besides pace around and pull at her hair.

He wasn't even the father, yet Achille couldn't sleep a wink. When it was all said and done, Andromache practically twisted his arm to accept holding her daughter, a word she said with shaky pride. Yes, this was her daughter, and Achille didn't want to hurt her. His hands only knew how to kill, not to love. He wasn't suited to offer a child a life of stability, and if he was being honest, neither were Andromache or Hector. They were all young, much too young, and dealing with their own personal emotional baggage, to take on such a responsibility.

"Do you want an honest answer or a hopeful lie?"

Achille looked on from his corner of the candle-lit living room, situated away from Hector on the couch, watching as Andromache gingerly rested her head on their partner's lap, her ear pressed against his growing belly. With her hair petted by Hector, Andromache's back was against the couch cushions, her legs dangling off the side and crossed at the ankles. Her glittering eyes, full of wonderment in the likes Achille had never seen up until then, narrowed at his response as she regarded him upside-down. Hector could only chuckle, his eyes hooded by dark bangs.

"I think everything will be fine."

"How can you be so sure?"

Hector lifted his gaze to look at Achille, his expression calm and voice gentle:

"Because I have two bodyguards who wouldn't dare let anything go wrong."

Achille could feel the blush creep up his neck as he gave a crooked smile, "Is that all I am to you, hired muscle?"

"You know my meaning," Hector glanced down to Andromache before looking away, "You're more than that to me, both of you. We'll be alright because your love will extend to this child. They'll know nothing but love, protection, and guidance from all of us."

Achille shrugged, "I don't think I'm cut out for that."

"Don't be so modest," it was Andromache's turn to speak up, "You're just as much a parent to this child as we are."

Achille would never have children, the torturous days of his younger years rendering that impossible, but Andromache's words stuck to him since then.

Paris wriggled in his arms, little odd squeaks coming from her mouth as Achille brought himself back to the present. Achille froze, not knowing what to do as the noises grew louder. He also remembers this from his younger brother, how annoyed he felt at the sound of a crying infant.

"Put him back," was all the young boy said to the adults in the room.

His father could only laugh at the bluntness of his son's words. Achille could remember his father ruffling his hair in affection before the wailing monstrosity of a baby could be taken from his tiny arms.

"Achille?"

Achille jerked up from his seat, eyes landing on Hector and Andromache, both now wide awake despite only getting a few hours of sleep. Paris continued to cry as he awkwardly passed her along into her father's waiting arms. Hector looked like shite, but he beamed at the sight of his newborn, cooing and shushing her from his place in bed.

Andromache, equally haggard, gave a soft smile before stretching her legs. She led a dumbfounded Achille out of the room to give Hector some privacy, softly closing the door behind them as they stood in the hallway.

"You asked me this a while ago," Achille found his voice, his throat restricted with an odd emotion, "You asked if we could give Paris a stable life. Could we?"

Andromache scrubbed at her face as she considered his words. To that, she replied:

"Like Hector said, we'll be fine."

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Currently sitting in a Pizza Hut stuffing my face with wings. Anyways, first question: What’s the wildest myth or variant of a myth you’ve encountered regarding Apollo? This can range in terms of “wtf” to “this is oddly specific, and whatever the person who thought of this was on probably went extinct centuries ago. Thank all that is holy for that.”

Second question: What is the myth or variant you find most particularly interesting regarding Apollo?

Third, completely unrelated: You’re amazing. That’s all. Cheers. <3

Hope the wings were good!!!

Question 1:

I once heard a variation of the birth of Apollo where Leto gives birth to him in the form of a wolf. Why? Idk, but it sure is a detail LMAO

Question 2:

I think the myths of Niobe and Marsyas really put him into a more complex/interesting light.

Allow me to explain.

Often times, gods will deal out a punishment even if it is rather extreme, and not make any amends for it.

However, he's something interesting with Apollo.

If we take the variation where he spares Niobe's youngest son (which I do, for reason to be explained!), he does try to make amends for it!

How? Via Nestor, king of Pylos! He's in The Iliad and is quite the prominent character too boot.

So, how did he make amends? By granting Nestor a VERYYYY long life! He did this because Nestor's ancestor was Niobe's youngest son, and to (sorta) make amends for it, Apollo extended his lifespan to include six (?) lifetimes- one lifespan, for each son he killed.

In some Marsyas variations, Apollo also rips the strings off his lyre and refuses to play, because he is so wracked with guilt over what he did! These things really show a very humanized side of him, and fits very well with his overall characterization because remember, this is the man who cried a literal river over Asclepius's death! This is the man who orchestrated Achilles's death to avenge his sons! This is the man who time and time again shows great emotion, and I love that the god who is essentially the god of humanity itself has this capacity for emotion!

It makes him sooo complex i love it <3

Third:

ahhhhh! thank you!!! :333 you're great too!!!

[johaerys-writes]

Can I ask you about the scene with Priam?

Before this Achilles is not “sleeping,” bathing, eating, or drinking as part of his mourning process. We see him holding Patroclus’ body, a no-no as the body is “unclean.” (Also, he shaves his head, rolls in dirt, passes out in dirt, etc.) I have seen some takes about how this is part of Achilles’ mourning process for both Pat and himself and how this is him sort of losing the rest of his humanity. Then just-just prior to the Priam scene, Thetis goes to Achilles to tell him to give Priam Hector’s body. Achilles just gives in without any resistance. This is around line 130. She’s like, ‘baby you got to move on from this. Go have something to eat and fuck a woman’ (some of the phrasing here is curious, but it’s not exactly the focus of my question). I always thought this quick acceptance to see Priam was a sign of his deep depression and resignation to his fate.

But then in the scene with Priam he plays proper host. He’s eating and drinking. Then he (debatable imo) goes off to fuck Briseis. It’s like he is literally doing what his mother told him to do. So why the switch from rejecting human customs and needs to engaging in “normal” behavior? As you mentioned, these old stories function differently and don’t exactly have characters arcs with lessons learned. So like wtf is going on? What are we supposed to do with this information?

No disrespect here, but sometimes I think these reversal scenes (which happen multiple times) are just one of Homer’s co-authors/editors going off and doing their own thing and there’s really no hidden meaning at all.

Okay so first of all, I think the notion of Homer's "editors" tampering with the text is a fairly popular one in some circles, I have heard a few different versions of it and I'm not sure I agree or disagree. Most classicists whose work I've read so far, and who work predominantly with Homer, tend to take the Iliad and Odyssey at face value and to automatically assume that the works are the way Homer/whoever wrote them intended them to be. And this is the way I myself engage with the Homeric works, because I think once you go "oh that part here is nonsense, it has probably been changed by those nebulous editors" then you're so much more likely to pick and choose what you like and draw your own conclusions and I don’t think that's fair to the work and the extensive body of work dealing with that work. Ykwim? So let's just say that the Iliad as a whole, and the part you highlighted in particular, are in the fact the way the original epic is meant to be.

The last few books of the Iliad, in my opinion, are the breakdown of Achilles' character. In the beginning, despite his anger and resentment towards Agamemnon, we still see him put together and civil with everyone during the embassy scene, and then again when he speaks with Patroclus, arms him and sends him forth to fight. Then, after Patroclus dies, he loses the plot and goes on his rampage, where his grace, respect and courtesy even towards his enemies fly right out the window. Even after he kills Hector and drags him around, he finds no peace. He refuses to eat, drink or bathe and still yearns and cries for Patroclus. But then, after he sees Patroclus' shade at the beach, is where the second most important change comes about if you ask me; this is when Achilles seems to wholeheartedly accept his death. We have Patroclus' funeral, then the funeral games, where Achilles seems to once again find his nobility and grace, as well as showcase how adept he is at diplomacy and handling the other warchiefs' pettiness and arrogance. Even with Agamemnon he is generous and polite, not exhibiting any resentment towards him.

But there's something different about that scene compared to all the others imo: there is not much of the energy, fire and determination we would see earlier, even when he was grieving. He gives away so much of his treasure too; my friend Baejax and I have often talked about this scene and how it feels like Achilles is giving away his wealth because he has no need for it, since he'll be dying soon anyway. This is a man that has fully accepted that hard behind glory rides death, and that it will be coming swiftly for him.

And this is how I've always seen the meeting with Priam, tbh. For me personally, that scene has always been about grief, mortality and the cost of glory (which is the most important commodity in the Iliad universe) and a meditation on the suffering which unites mankind. Achilles talks about his homeland and the father he has left behind whom he will never again see, about the pain he has caused Priam and his people, about the gods and the ultimate lack of choice that humans have. Men must suffer, he says, and must make others suffer in a world without justice.

So for me it isn’t so much Achilles embracing again the human customs he had rejected, but instead fully acknowledging the reality of his position and resigning himself to it. I don't think that Achilles "plays" the host, so much as he extends his hospitality to Priam (which, again, very important ideal in the Iliad, it's where the Trojan war started in a way. With Paris violating the Achaean's hospitality and stealing Helen), acknowledges Priam's suffering, and acknowledges how instrumental he has been in said suffering. In that scene, killer and victim become one, and with the insight into each other’s condition comes compassion. And I think that's a powerful statement, and perhaps the most enduring in the Iliad. Soon after that, the Trojans bury Hector, which foreshadows and mirrors' Achilles' funeral as well. This "double funeral" completes the Iliad, and its overarching tragedy.

Now. The thing is that Achilles is a really divisive personality to begin with, and the scene with Priam even more so. He isn’t easy to categorise or analyse, and depending on the lens through which one sees his actions and behaviours, the interpretation could change greatly. Rachel Bespaloff in her commentary On the Iliad (which I absolutely loathe and want to tear in little pieces and burn LOL) says that "to rid himself of troublesome responsibility Achilles ducks behind fatality" during the Priam scene, and that his words to the old king are "scandalous behaviour". If you ask me, this take completely ignores Achilles' own suffering and rejects his role in the Iliad as the idealistic, honourable and rigid in his honour and beliefs young hero who almost completely loses his humanity BECAUSE of the ugliness and pettiness of war, because of that suffering, because of his own grief, because of injustice, because of bad leadership, because violence simply begets violence. And it also completely ignores the larger and overarching idea in the Iliad that death and glory, suffering and good fortune go hand in hand. And that this doesn't only apply to good and noble Priam and Hector, but also (you guessed it) to Achilles, in this final scene which is a moment of shared humanity between "enemies" and one of the most poignant in the epic.

Anyway. To conclude this tangent, no, I do not believe that Achilles simply does what his momma tells him to do, nor does he wine and dine Priam for the hell of it. I believe that this is the most depressed, resigned and desolate we see Achilles in the entire poem, a man simply awaiting his death with nothing really to look forward to in life, but who still retains his humanity and treats the people around him with the dignity and respect they deserve.

I hope this answered your question!