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natalievoncatte · 3 months ago

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Every part of Lena Luthor’s soul was screaming at her do not do this.

Yet there Kara Danvers

(Kara Zor-El, last daughter of the house of El, LIAR.)

stood, bedraggled and tear-tracked, hunched in Lena’s doorway like a tiny kitten begging her for food. Lena wondered how she did it, how she made herself so small and unassuming, pathetic even. It was more than a change of clothes and hair and ripping off her glasses. She truly changed, somehow.

Changed to deceive. Changed to mock, changed to take without giving, to make Lena a fool.

(it was a cruel thought, a green thought, a Lex thought)

“I’ve told you already, Kara. I don’t want you here. You’re a liar, you and all your little friends mocked me to my face and kept secrets behind my back.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

That relentless sad puppy look of hers softened even further.

“Why?”

God above how Lena hated her. Hated her for daring to ask. Fuck you, that’s why.

(nothing hurts more than a question that has no answer)

“I hate you, that’s why.”

Kara swallowed hard, wringing her hands. She was dressed in her pajamas and had probably flown here, then landed and asked to come up like a normal person. Didn’t she see that was the problem?

“I don’t believe you.”

Lena threw up her hands. “Oh fuck off with that, Kara. You lost your favorite toy, get over it. I’m done with you. I moved on, you should too.”

“You let me in. I’ve seen the real you. You’re not vindictive. You’re not cruel. You’re a kind-hearted, selfless, compassionate person.”

“And you didn’t,” Lena snapped, moving to close the door. “You deceived me in the most fundamental way. You made me believe you cared for me and believed in me and saw the good in me. No one sees the fucking good in me, no one. No one did but you… and it was all a trick to keep an eye on the Luthor.”

“No, no, I didn’t-“

“You didn’t? Then why did you get James to spy on me? Why’d you question my motives? Why’d you keep lying to me after I proved myself over and over and over again? Because I was never good enough. It was never real.”

Kara rubbed her arms. “Do you really think I brought you into my circle of friends and held you in when you were sad and brought you to Thanksgiving and let you sleep over in my home to keep an eye on you?”

There was a heavy pause.

“That’s fucking insane,” Kara snarled.

Taken aback, Lena flinched, half at the profanity and half at the anger in Kara’s voice.

“I admit it,” her voice broke suddenly, “I can’t deny it. I can’t just dismiss how you feel, I get that, but I didn’t keep my secret from you because you were some kind of a project, Lena. I kept my secret because keeping it let me keep you. It was selfishness, pure and simple. I wanted my one friend who didn’t see me as a superhero. I wanted… I wanted what I always want, things I cannot have.”

There was such agony in her voice that it cut through Lena’s growing fury like a blade sinking into clay, stuck fast, hot in her chest.

“I knew I’d lose you to it eventually. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.”

Lena blinked a few times, feeling her resolve start to shake.

(another manipulation. she will do anything, say anything to get back in your good graces)

(to do what, Lex? to what end?)

“Say what you came here to say.”

“I kind of did, but I have one more thing to ask.”

“Then ask it.”

Kara swallowed. “I want to pretend.”

Lena’s brow arched.

“Pretend what?”

“Just pretend it’s like it was. For one night. Just give me one more night and I promise you I will never bother you again. You’ll never see me or Supergirl for the rest of your life.”

“You’re on TV every day.”

“I meant in person.”

“And stop talking about yourself like you’re two different people.”

Kara sniffed.

“Okay,” she muttered.

Lena stood there for what felt like an eternity, screaming at herself not to do this.

(do it, it’ll make it hurt more)

(me or her?)

Lena stepped aside.

Kara entered. She brushed at her eyes, adjusted her glasses, and walked into Lena’s expansive, cold, dark penthouse.

As soon as she did, it was as if the light came back. It felt warm again, seeing her standing there. Having her here, in her cute little pajamas with her braid over one shoulder, those big eyes open and hopeful.

Lena closed the door.

“What do… what do you want me to do? Us to do?”

“We could watch a movie, maybe get Chinese delivered. Have you eaten? I doubt you’ve eaten.”

Lena hadn’t, actually. She hadn’t eaten today and had eaten only scraps yesterday and only because Jess insisted.

Kara touched Lena’s side, a soft brush of fingers over her ribs, and winced.

“You’re starving yourself,” she murmured. “Oh, Lena.”

“Kara-“

She already had her phone out and was ordering. Of course Kara had Lena’s place still saved in DoorDash.

Lena grabbed her hand to stop her.

“My treat.”

Lena fetched her own phone and put in a quick order- of course she had all of Kara’s favorites saved and of course she almost sent them to Kara’s address instead of her own.

“I ordered.”

Lena looked down at herself, wondering why the hell she was doing this. She was still dressed for the lab, so she retreated to her bedroom.

When she opened the closet her eyes immediately went to the maroon Midvale High School sweatshirt hanging at the far end of the rack, where it had been defying her for months. She should have burned the god damn thing but every time she reached for it, her hand pulled back of its own accord.

Not today. She let it fall over her, oversized for her frame and too long, and changed from slacks to leggings and pumps to bare feet, her toes curling from the cold hardwood floors.

Kara had already taken up position on the couch and had put on one of her beloved movies, one they’d already watched together ten times and Kara had probably already seen ten times more. The Princess Bride.

It was a cheap ploy and Lena knew it.

It gouged at her anyway, leaving something raw in her chest. It ripped open every place she’d forced to herself to scab over, broke every stitch. She killed the lights, halfway out of tradition and halfway to make sure Kara didn’t see her fighting back the tears.

Neither of them spoke. They sat on opposite ends of of the couch. When the food arrived, Kara got up to get it from the driver and her absence was keen, the void she left behind ripping at Lena.

When she sat down again right next to her, Lena let her. She shoved a box of take out into Lena’s lap and insisted she eat. They ate in silence.

Kara’s heart wasn’t in it. She are aimlessly rather than shoving her food in her mouth and gobbling it all down in minutes as she usually did. She was pretending, hard.

Lena barely paid any attention to the movie. The food, normally seasoned and spiced to the point where she couldn’t stand it and ate only to please Kara, was bland and tasteless in her mouth.

Kara, haltingly and hesitantly, put her head on Lena’s shoulder, and winced when Lena’s shoulders hitched. Why the fuck was she doing this to herself?

The worst part was that it didn’t hurt. It felt like home. Even now after all she had done and all that Kara had done and said, feeling Kara’s sadness in her soft weight beside her was ripping her apart, the mad anger and rage swept aside by a torrent of grief she couldn’t hold back.

If she was going to pretend she might as well pretend. She put her arm around Kara and leaned into her, nuzzling her nose into Kara’s soft hair, wondering if her alleged best friend ever noticed that Lena’s favorite thing in the entire stupid fucked up world was a Kara Danvers hug and nothing was more precious to her than these times when she almost kissed the crown of Kara’s head.

How she ached.

The movie ended and Netflix began making suggestions.

“Kara,” Lena murmured. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“If we go to sleep the night will be over,” her voice was small, trembling.”

“I know, darling. Just let it be what it is.”

Kara nodded.

Lena’s pulse was pounding as she headed for the bedroom, wondering how Kara had never picked up on how decidedly unplatonic it was to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Neither spoke as they climbed into Lena’s California King, a bed big enough to drown in, sinking beneath a goose down comforter, Kara’s body heat like old coals from a campfire.

For a moment they lay apart, and then slowly came together in their usual way, Kara forming herself into a protective cocoon to shield Lena from… from everything. Morgan Edge, her brother, alien shotgun weddings, random nuts with a gun and a grudge, everything but the greatest threat, her worst enemy.

“I have to go in the morning,” Kara whispered, “so I better say this now. You are not a monster, Lena. I never wanted to ‘keep an eye on you’ other than to protect you and keep you safe. No matter what you do, I will never, ever give up believing in you, but if you want me gone, that’s what I have to do. I love you so much it hurts me. I can’t stand being apart from you but if that’s what you need from me that’s what I’ll give. I would do anything for you. If moving on is what you want…”

Kara took a ragged breath.

“As you wish.”

Lena felt something crack inside her. An image filled her mind: Kara. Kara with graying hair, walking away, walking off into the sunset like the hero she was, and with someone else… with a child between them, a future, a home…

“God damn you, Kara Danvers!” Lena snapped, shocked at the sound of her own voice. “God damn you for making me feel this way! Do you have any idea what you did to me? I can’t just turn it off, I can’t stop feeling.”

“This was a terrible idea,” Kara sighed. “I should have known better. I’m just hurting you more.”

Kara began pulling away.

Lena threw out her arms, locked her hands behind the neck of the most powerful being on the entire planet, and yanked. Hard.

Their lips came together in a crash. The force was all Lena’s, as Kara’s inhuman might yielded to her control. There were no words. Kara hesitated for a shocked moment before she kissed Lena back, looping her arms around Lena’s waist.

This was no stolen glance, no innuendo, no coy hint. When Lena kissed Kara she made as if to devour her, and was mounting her before she realized she was doing it. Kara yielded, she always yielded even when Lena pinned her wrists to the mattress and clamped her legs around Kara’s hips and ground on her like a horny teenager.

She kept expecting Kara to sputter, to push back… to be fucking straight, to be brutally honest about her intentions, but there was nothing straight in the way Kara shifted to grind against her, or the way she twisted her hands free and slid them under the soft Midvale High Sweatshirt and skimmed them over the bare skin of Lena’s back. There was no mistaking the intent of her kisses or the feral sound she made when the shedding of clothing began.

Lena must have shocked her at first, because when Kara recovered, she became a force of nature. Lena was quickly on her back and let out an excited yelp when Kara simply tore her leggings apart and bared her with a feral grin on her face before shedding her top with the same desperate energy.

When they came together, really came together, Lena was nearly overwhelmed. Kara was insatiable, relentless. Hokey cliches like “force of nature” were woefully inadequate.

She never ran out of stamina and she was gentle when needed and forceful when Lena wanted it, every stoke and motion and caress somehow perfect, and she sensed without needing to be told when Lena was ready to give rather than receive and yielded without a word.

They barely even had to talk, and when Lena was finally exhausted, Kara was there with kind touches and soft words and cared for her like the most precious thing in the world.

Lena fell asleep, deeply and soundly, and when she woke up with the sun on her skin and an empty bed she wondered if it was all an elaborate dream until she heard Kara humming halfway across the penthouse, grabbed the sweatshirt, and padded barefoot from the bedroom.

Kara was at the stove cooking breakfast and holding a spatula like a microphone, singing… a fucking Britney Spears song.

“I thought you were going to leave in the morning,” Lena sighed.

Kara froze.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’d have to come get you.”

Kara turned to her with a billion watt smile.

“I was lying about leaving you alone.”

Lena walked over, arms around her waist, hugging herself. She cupped Lena’s chin with a hooked finger and the casual intimacy of it made Lena’s heart swell.

“I love you so much. I can’t breathe without you,” Kara whispered.

Lena took Kara’s wrist and guided her hand to cup her cheek, nuzzling against the soft skin of Kara’s palm.

“Stay?”

Kara nodded.

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lazywriters-blog · 8 months ago

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Aventurine with an innocent darling who's very vulnerable to his schemes and doesn't understand his motives for gifting her a ring, necklaces, expensive perfumes, and dresses that match his preference, finds it hard to believe that he's doing all this for her without a reason.

Doesn't say anything whenever he puts his hand around her waist and drags her along with him anywhere and everywhere he goes, when he leans close she doesn't move back, in a way Aventurine would find her daring and bold, which he would like. A lot.

Seeing as she never declines or rejects him, his advances, his gifts, his messages, their intimacy, and his touch, he considers her his best friend.

Which in time would soften his heart, they would play games that were to her liking (because he would always have her lose to his bets and wagers) but if you look at it from a stranger's point of view, she's playing a dangerous game and she's falling right into his trap, wearing his gifts, following him around, it wouldn't end well.

So of course, someone would eventually warn her and tell her to stay as far away as possible from the IPC executive, which to Aventurine's dismay, works. She's playing distance with him and doesn't laugh or smile as much as she would have before everything she was told messed up her mind, runs home after he keeps insisting that she stay the night and they could have a sleepover, however, they keep drifting apart every time he gets too overbearing.

Everything she does hurts his feelings and drags him further down.

Losing someone who didn't have ulterior motives, who didn't want him to be their friend for his money, influence, his looks, his luck, makes him all the more clingy and desperate.

He wants her back, so the first thing he does is make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut and never thinks about influencing his best friend. Which works, at least for a while.

He's attached to her, he can't consider losing her after everything they've been through, so even if she doesn't realize it, the damage has been done, and she can never look at Aventurine the same. Surely, he will learn about it soon enough.

He could try manipulating her, but what's the use? They've lost their genuine friendship, and it drives him crazy, makes him bitter, and makes him want to do things to whoever dragged his darling away.

He might resort to desperate measures.

So now, he's doing everything he used to do but ten times worse, giving her endless rows of gifts, and spending an unimaginable amount of money on her in hopes they can rekindle their friendship.

But something is still holding her back.

"You should stay the night," he said in his usual light tone, taking a glance to gauge her response. She smiled nervously, and he knew she would decline.

"No, I gotta get home but next time surely," promising him her next time had gotten old, even though she had only stated it twice. He looked away for a moment, trying his best not to squeeze her shoulder.

"You know, you've promised me that twice already and it still hasn't come true."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want to bother you." she looked down.

"I wonder if it is because of those people. You can easily be manipulated, I've already told you that so many times, so why can't you try to form your own opinion?" he didn't say it in a belittling manner, nor was his tone heavy in malice but anyone could tell something was wrong.

Aventurine has never been passive-aggressive, at least not with her.

"That's... Kinda mean." she tried to pull his arm, trying to shrug off his touch but that didn't stop nor discourage him because he just laughed and pulled her back to him.

"I was just kidding! Surely you would have known that by now sweetheart." he also never called her 'sweetheart'.

She looked at him, his wide grin and beautiful eyes peering down at her had always consoled her but now it was telling her to run away.

But with how tight he was holding onto her, she feared it would be impossible to get away now.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yan yan #yandere honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #yandere hsr #hsr x y/n

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zipper-neck · 1 year ago

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Trans Rules of Engagement

By Florence Ashley

Strong communities make us all safer. As anti-trans movements gain in power and influence, holding space for each other through our flaws remains critical. Yet the very conditions that create our need for community care make it hard for us to care for each other. We are raw, wounded, traumatized, and hypervigilant. We make mistakes brought on by fear and hurt. We lash out at each other when we do wrong, often partaking in pile-ons facilitated by the synchronous nature of online interactions. Whether we realize it or not, we often exclude trans people from community when they need it most.

I have lost count of the number of trans people I have seen cast out of online trans spaces for misdeeds both major and minor—far too often with my help. I sometimes find myself wondering where they are now and whether they are still alive. Because, as Kai Cheng Thom has taught us, social death often means real death for trans people. Trans communities are life-sustaining in a world that hates us so, so much. In a world that wants us dead. We have lost too many people not to stop and think about how we can foster life among each other.

This goal I have for myself—that of fostering life—motivates the following principles and rules for engaging in online intra-community conflicts while preserving the life-sustaining spirit of our communities. Countless times have I failed to heed these principles and ignored these rules. This failure, which many of us share, is precisely why I now want to lay these principles and rules down on paper. If only as a reminder of my aspirations. The principles and rules are meant to be adopted for oneself, not imposed onto others. Their purpose is to foster productive engagement, not create even more conflict and rigidity. I hope that this will be a living document, and invite you to make your own version if you would like. Borrow what is useful, supplement with what is needed, alter what can be improved.

Some, and perhaps all, of the principles I acknowledge are false, hence the need for a living document. Each of my suggested rules have exceptions. In setting them out, I am staking a claim as to the sort of myths and half-truths that are necessary to sustain life in a world that wants us dead. We must treat them as true if we wish to foster life-sustaining communities and survive the hellscape we belabor.

Principles

1. We are all flawed, traumatized humans at the end of their rope. Many of our actions say more about the conditions we live under than who we are as people.

2. No one is disposable. No one is unsalvageable.

3. Life holds greater value than being right or comfortable. Hurt is preferable to death.

4. No one should be deprived of community.

5. Harm does not require further harm. Punishment does not equate protection or healing.

Rules

1. Do not depart from these rules, unless you have to.

2. Morgan M. Page’s Rule: Try to avoid criticizing other trans people in public. The world does it enough already.

3. Favor in person or private conversations: Addressing someone’s comments or actions in person or privately is typically more constructive and effective. It allows you to communicate more cogently and with more nuance problems in someone’s actions or words and because it is less likely to make them react defensively from a place of trauma or fear.

4. Take your time: Few things require an immediate response. Responding while caught in a surge of thoughts and feelings is often unproductive. Ask yourself how much harm was done, versus how much we are reminded of an earlier harm. Ask whether your response is rooted in misperception or potential biases towards the person due to race, disability, gender, or other marginalized identities. Consider whether their words or actions reflect a different kind of thinking or communication style, a lack of access to education, or limited access to progressive communities and norms. You can respond tomorrow, once you have collected your thoughts, talked to others, and gained perspective.

5. Don’t mob: Be aware of group dynamics. Ask yourself if you are connected to this person and in community with them. Avoid jumping into the fray when others are already criticizing the person. Do not invite others to join in and mob them. Withdraw if others join in, and kindly ask people to stay conscious of mobbing dynamics. Mobbing rapidly grows out of proportion.

6. De-escalate: Focus on de-escalating conflicts. Ask what people mean or want, and why. Ask them for clarification or elaboration if needed. Ask yourself if you know enough about the context of the situation. Distinguish the action from the person, and acknowledge that it is normal to respond defensively or aggressively to public criticism and mobbing. People are traumatized, mentally ill, and are scared of losing the little social support they have. As a result, conflict can trigger a fight-or-flight response in both those who are criticized and who criticize, which leads to escalating conflict and ends in a loss of community. Dropping the conversation to return at a later date is preferable to escalation. Often, I find it best to limit myself to three replies in conversations that aren’t constructive.

7. Respond proportionately: Responses to words and behaviours should be proportionate to their harm, and reflect a need for healing and protection rather than punishment. When we speak from a place of hurt, we can understandably but unfortunately forget the measure and impact of our response. Use language that reflects the nuances and gradations of harm rather than a coarse good and evil binary. Cutting all social support and community banishment are rarely a proportionate response, even for someone who doubles down and does not apologize. Responding proportionately is asking first and foremost what response sustains rather than dissolves life. Especially when it comes to words, it is better to under-react than to over-react.

8. Ensure support for everyone: Check in on those who are criticized and those who criticize them. Remind people that we are all in this together, and that banishment is not how we work as a community. Everyone deserves to have their needs met. Do not shun or reproach people who offer support to those who were criticized or called out. Distinguish supporting a person from enabling their behavior.

9. Hold space for people to grow: Allow space for people to be accountable, change, and move on from previous conflicts. Do not hold past behavior over people’s head, nor dig up past misdeeds to fuel present conflicts.

10. Resolve conflict and harm as a community: We must ask how our communities enable and cause hurt and harm, and find ways to transform the conditions that create them. Holding accountable, problem-solving, and conflict resolution are functions that should be taken up by the collective, not isolated and unsupported individuals.

11. Center those most hurt or harmed: Focus on supporting and empowering people who are hurt and harmed rather than on punishment. Ask what they need to be safe and integrated in our communities, while committing to support for everyone; what they need to repair their relationship to the person who hurt or harmed them. Focus your involvement on bringing people together, fostering dialogue and mutual understanding, and restoring a sense of community togetherness, rather than deciding who is right or wrong.♦

#florence ashley #trans rules of engagement #trans #community #article #ethics

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yonkokraven · 7 months ago

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Horikoshi is a terrible writer

God, I wish I was kidding, these last couple of days I've been analyzing the whole damn manga and I finally understood where this guy is going with it and how it fails.

I'm going to make the post with spoilers and talk in random order about different things that he fail at, because honestly it's unthinkable to make an order in this manga chaos.

The League Without Goals:

I really can't understand how people look at this group and say "they have a plan" or "they're good antagonists" when neither of those things are true.

The league was founded by Tomura wanting to show the world that they live in a false peace, at first he wants to kill All Might for being the symbol that brought this false era of peace...

The claim is fair, I'm not going to lie to you, but after the Stain arc, instead of reflecting on how he can show the danger to society, he goes a step further and decides to destroy all the heroes, and the league "adopts" Stain's mentality with its new members.

You think it could improve, I mean, here they should tell us the reasons of the new members of the league about their mentality towards the heroes, but no, nothing, absolutely nothing.

Dabi introduces himself stating that he's there for Stain, Toga too, Spinner obviously too, but they don't reveal why they agree with Stain.

As time goes by we see glimpses of everyone's personality and past, and the first thing that comes to mind when I think back to the entire history of the villains, is that they don't have a group spirit here, in fact, not even a hint of personalities, Dabi and Toga are serial killers, Spinner is a mutant and Compress is a thief. Twice is a disturbed guy who lost his place in society by no longer being able to control his quirk, but he also has no qualms about kidnapping and killing children and god, Magne, Mudstard, Muscular and Moonfish are forgettable

The league's goal changes from "Show society the false peace" to "Let's do whatever we want" after the liberation army arc, here there is no direct reason, but Tenko says that he wants to destroy everything that breathes.

They show us their pasts but there is not really a more appropriate answer to "these people are crazy"

Spinner, who is the one with his head on his shoulders, should question why but he doesn't, He don't tell us what he wants to do other than "follow Shigaraki", and then in the final war they put him almost into a Nomu and leading an army of mutants without any plan of what to do when the world is his, there are no community plans, nothing, just find Kurogiri and destroy Japan.

Toga was deprived her entire life of living the way she wanted and she wants to do that, but when Twice dies she wonders if the heroes don't see her as a person when she can't even wonder why the heroes would see her that way, she kills people and animals without any shame and is plotting to destroy the world.

Dabi wants dad's attention, that's why he's going to destroy everything dad built including his mother and siblings, but he could go one by one, first Natsuo, then Fuyumi, then Rei, then the "Masterpiece" Shoto, or better yet, broadcast the video of Endeavor after the battle against High-End Hood, but instead he waits for the damn climax of the story to try to detonate himself. Not only could he have saved Twice and didn't, but he also has reasons to follow Stain but still sticks to "let's kill whoever gets in our way"... and that's it.

Tomura already came to this story in an extremist way and has reasons to hate society, at the beginning of the story I thought his motivation was going to be to reveal the imperfections of civilians and heroes, but his motivations grow to commit acts of terrorism to ACADEMY STUDENTS. And they are not even varied, it is the same academy and the same damn class

And when I thought that Horikoshi could not make it any emptier, AFO reveals that he always planned to take his body and orchestrated everything that happened to Tenko. AND THE WORST THING IS THAT HE DOESN'T EVEN REFLECT AFTER THAT, IF IT WERE UP TO HIM HE WOULD DESTROY EVERYTHING ANYWAY.

How do Hori expect me to feel bad about their defeats and deaths? They literally grew up in the opposite way to how they should have, and that's when I realized: Hori didn't want to give this group of clowns any redemption at any point.

Before you ask me "then why did Horikoshi make Midoriya, Uraraka and Shoto want to save them?"

No, here Horikoshi is writing 2 things, but he writes them so badly that the fandom interprets something totally different:

1-A hero is a human being, and villains born in their mistakes: The members of the league, if we look at their origins first, arise from the fault of people (not just heroes

Toga must be one of many who has their biology affected by their quirk, at no time do we have reference to the fact that there are specialized centers to help this type of people, because if that were the case, her parents would have accompanied their daughter in that way instead of repressing her.

Spinner is a mutant, so he hasn't grown up in a conventional way (as we're told, he was always alone). But that's the incomplete picture, being a mutant and following Stain's ideology, you add 2+2 and notice that Spinner suffered mistreatment even from heroes, but it's something he doesn't mention, and Horikoshi didn't delve into either his history or the mutant plot.

Dabi is the son of an arranged marriage (know how to differentiate it from a forced marriage) and that's already a lot to say, but his origin resonates with Stain's words about heroes only seeking fame and power. If the top heroes didn't exist or worked differently, things in the Todoroki family would have been different.

Tomura is the mark of an imperfect society, as his problems are not only his own, they come from generations ago. His grandmother left his father for adoption after his grandfather's death, and there is already a big red flag about the safety between heroes.

Then, his father grows up hating heroes because he never knew about the danger that his mother and he were in. And he hits his son every time he says the word "hero" just because he never knew how to properly deal with his father's death or his mother's abandonment.

And after what happened to his family, people look the other way hoping that a hero might appear, when that is not the job of a hero, it is something that everyone can do. Tomura marks the total and combined result of a society that has made heroes into nothing more than a service instead of people, while people simply go on with their lives.

Society in general after the dawn of power remains the same: discrimination, power and ignorance continue to be the daily life of people.

The biggest problem? is that Horikoshi shows us the league at first wanting to point out these injustices, but little by little they get to "let's destroy everything because Tomura is upset."

2- The origin of true heroes

The arcs that resonate the most with the soul of the manga are Uraraka and Hawks' arcs, two of which in my opinion are the best in the work

Uraraka enters the academy with the wrong intentions, but her heart is in the right place, she wants to help people and little by little she realizes something that many people ignore, that heroes and villains are also people.

Hawks is trained directly in the commission as a human weapon, but he does not fight against this because his desire is to be a hero, as he grows up between so much training and work, he realizes that despite being a hero, he is not allowed to be a person, and this is reflected in all the other heroes thanks to his phrase "I just want a world where heroes have free time"

Uraraka is the one who initiates the change to society by asking the civilians to let Midoriya rest in the academy, the civilians are scared but notice for the first time that the heroes are not in good shape either.

And they are not even heroes yet, they are children who still have the spirit to stand in front of the bullets when they should be crying for what happened, they lost teachers and classmates, in addition to being mutilated by people older than them.

In these epilogue chapters, civilians and heroes began to work shoulder to shoulder after this event and the battle in which Midoriya gave his all to prevent everything known from disappearing, and he succeeded by very little.

In chapter 429 we see a child who escaped from hell, and for the first time a civilian helps someone without having to request support from a hero, and it is the same woman who did not help Tenko years ago who still carries the guilt.

But what is the problem with this point?

Two small details, one being that Horikoshi isn't giving dialogue to those who started this change, and if he did, he did it incorrectly.

Uraraka feels bad for not being able to save someone who didn't want to be saved, when she doesn't reflect on how Toga got to that point of no return, or what made the heroes get to where they are now

Midoriya calms her down by telling her that she's his heroine (which isn't bad at all) but it's a very short dialogue for two characters who saw through all the flaws of this system and fight to change that same system for the better.

and Hawks is in a position to restructure the hero system for the better based on the things he knows, taking a correct step in creating a Top that is defined by the actions in the place of power... BUT YOU DIDN'T ELIMINATE THE OLD TOP? ARE YOU SERIOUS?

And now I know why he doesn't do it, because of someone who has taken up more than enough pages in this work, the damn Katsuki Bakugo, another damn symbol of the old society that glorifies power over heroic actions.

Horikoshi himself didn't know what to do with the character beyond the first tests arc and HE SHOWS IT, because it is so contradictory with this character and everything that surrounds him in a disgusting way and the fandom doesn't want to accept it.

He literally doesn't get any attention when he does wrong, when he attacked Kurogiri with Kirishima, when he acts arrogant at the sports festival, when he hits Midoriya at the final exams and verbally abuses him in front of everyone, when at the camp he ignores Mandalay's instructions.

There is only one consequence for him in the manga, ONE, AND THAT IS THAT HE FAILS AN EXAM AND THAT'S IT.

Then he has a nervous breakdown saying "it's my fault that All Might retired" when he doesn't reflect on the danger he put his teammates in or the way he acts.

Here everyone is useless when it comes to Bakugo; Aizawa lets him go with a pat on the arm when he tries to attack Midoriya, 13 should have reported Bakugo and Kirishima to the principal after Kurogiri, Aizawa justifies Bakugo's behavior to heroes who are obviously outraged by his attitude during the festival, All Might ignores that his disciple bled from a punch from Bakugo and also that Bakugo almost killed him in the team tests.

When he is kidnapped, no one points out that he disobeyed a direct instruction in an emergency like the camp, instead Aizawa grabs a microphone and says "He's a great hero."

And in the provisional license exams, the Commission should have intervened and called him to attention, or at least Aizawa, but NOTHING.

Horikoshi makes him absent for a couple of arcs and then Bakugo reappears at the cultural festival where he doesn't change a cent, he just plays the drums, then he passes the provisional exams making the minimum effort possible while Todoroki, Utsushimi and Yoarashi do all the work with the children, and he tells the leader of the children "don't be an idiot" and that's it.

Then the Endeavor arc, he sneaks into Midoriya and Todoroki's internships and disrespects half the world, again without consequences and his appearance in this arc is to justify the disaster of power increase in the next arcs, wasn't it that he had already mastered his quirk? wasn't he a prodigal?

Then there's the war and he only serves as a human shield, receiving a lethal wound and SURVIVING to then wake up in the hospital and ignore that everyone is injured or in mourning and start screaming.

Then in the Dark Deku arc he mocks Izuku who is at his lowest point and makes the emptiest apologies I've read in a manga, with an apology comes a change and HE doesn't change.

His death and resurrection is totally useless to the plot other than to nerf (not kill) Edgeshot, who turns from a paper man into a surgery man to repair his heart and vital organs that are shown to have EXPLODED BY SHIGARAKI'S PUNCH.

He gets up and fights All For One at his weakest point and eliminates him, which has no real value because AFO then possesses Shigaraki anyway. And to make this more regrettable Bakugo KILLS KUROGIRI WHO WAS ON HIS SIDE.

What makes me the most angry is that Izuku is losing OFA and HE IS THE ONE CRYING

At this last point Midoriya has already completely lost the spotlight because Horikoshi never tires of inflating the Gary Stu that is Bakugo. And God forbid Midoriya to do even a little of what Bakugo did.

Midoriya at the end of each arc has no recognition, in fact, the recognition that Horikoshi gives him is reduced as the arcs go by

The story started with Midoriya saying that this would be like him "he became the greatest hero" and in the last arc he changes it to "we all became the greatest heroes" and it doesn't feel like a true victory once they achieve it, because Midoriya is not even the shadow of what he was.

With Horikoshi's decision to preserve the previous Top of Heroes it is obvious that he will give it to Bakugo, it is a worthless title because it is not defined by heroism, but by statistics that come from power and solved cases.

and this last one ruins Endeavor's ending even more

Speaking of Endeavor, he doesn't have his family anymore, he already lost his position, he's disabled and his money won't be his anymore, since he's going to put it at the disposal of his children. I was wondering if Horikoshi would make him face something legally but with everything that's happened I think it would have been the same result, with him paying monthly damages to his family.

and his family, god, what a family.

Rei needed more introspection and perspective on the situation, especially with Shoto and Touya if she was going to be included in the final battle. And yes, she stays with Endeavor, good for some and bad for others, but I want to know what led her to that, Horikoshi didn't justify it.

Fuyumi was fired not because of Endeavor's abuse, but because of the things Touya did. Again, this information is useless without a proper explanation. What information do you want to leave me with, that she got a new job? Will she work at the UA library or what?

Natsuo will be a Kotaro 2.0 because of his attitude, and honestly I never really liked him, especially because he didn't put any energy into getting to know Shoto or trying to reconcile with Touya after the final battle.

Shoto... poor Shoto, it feels like he was orphaned after the last family talk. In fact it feels disconnected from the story since the Dark Deku arc.

Well, I only have to talk about Eraser, because I already pointed out everything, empty villains, Midoriya's lack of introspection, Bakugo Katsuki's superfluous character... and there's this incapable who must be Horikoshi's self-insert.

Shouta Aizawa, aka Eraserhead, underground hero and the worst teacher in the known universe.

This guy never knew what he did, and just like Horikoshi, he tipped the scales towards Bakugo in every situation he could. He forced his students to give their all, but he didn't help at any time in the evolution of their powers... WHILE HE WAS TRAINING SHINSO.

He's not a teacher, he's just a security measure in case a quirk gets out of control, nothing more, and he even does wrong, he ties up students with his capture weapon and attacks them with his quirk threatening expulsion in any situation that bothers him

Present Mic points this out and many other things but is continually silenced by Aizawa and the fandom, even worse

The Fandom ships them.

and since we're mentioning the fandom, this is one of the worst fandoms in the universe.

90% of them seem to have gotten the story wrong and don't have a cent of criticism towards Bakugo or the league, and don't value the moments of the manga in the proper way.

There can't be a second without them believing that this is Shoujo, because they focus on Bakugo and Deku in the same panel and take it completely out of context (a bad habit that Rukasu created by translating the leaks absolutely wrong on purpose).

Now everyone is angry with Horikoshi not because he wrote a story in the most absurd way possible, but because the league of assassins did not have a happy ending and they just discovered that this was never a shojo.

Horikoshi was right to fear that the manga would be cancelled, because he clearly excels at drawing, not writing. Now we're getting a fan-made Attack of Titan Requiem 2.0 of Bakugo and the league making this twenty times worse than it already was.

I've also noticed that there are some creative people who are writing arc by arc either on tumblr or ao3, which gives me some faith that this nightmare is bearable.

Well, I read opinions, but not from fans of Bakugo, BKDK or the League of Villains.

#anti lov #bnha critical #mha 429 #mha critical #anti katsuki bakugou #anti aizawa shota #anti bakugo katsuki #anti bakudeku #anti Eraserhead #horikoshi critical #hori is a bad writer #izuku deserves better

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velvet4510 · 4 months ago

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OK I have thoughts about Billy’s motive being to find Tommy:

I actually think it’s the most plausible and understandable motive he could have.

My theory pre-episode 6 was he wanted his whole family back, and I’ve heard comments since then criticizing him for seeming to not care about Wanda and Vision or want them back.

But, look, Episode 6 establishes very clearly that he doesn’t remember his real parents.

Jeff and Rebecca have been the only parental figures he’s known for 3 full years. He isn’t lacking parental love because he’s been getting it from them. But what he is lacking is a sibling.

Now he’s just found out that he’s Billy Maximoff, who had a mother now declared dead, a father now declared “used for parts” … and a twin brother whose name is the same name that was on his lips when he first awoke and whose presence he can somehow sense.

So of course Tommy is his number-one priority. Not only is he the figure in his life that he is fully and completely missing, but he’s his twin, his other half, and on top of that, the only member of his Westview family to not be declared dead. He doesn’t actively remember Tommy, but they have a special connection.

Of course he thinks about Wanda and Vision sometimes. Wonders what they were like and whether he’ll ever remember them. But he thinks they’re lost forever. It’s printed as fact in all the news he’s read that Wanda is dead and that Vision was dismantled. Tommy is the only one whose fate is open-ended, to his knowledge. Why would he get his hopes up for his whole family when only one of them isn’t declared dead?

It makes total sense that he’s focusing on Tommy. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his parents, or at least, won’t love them when he remembers them. But he currently thinks there’s no hope for them.

Plus, think of the guilt he must feel every day as he lies to these people who he knows are not his real parents but who have been loving and supporting him nonstop for 3 years. How could he dare to yearn for parents who are now dead, when he has two wonderful living parents in his new life? He doesn’t know how to tell them that he’s not the son they knew. He’s been trying so hard to be that son.

But once he regains his memories of the Hex, I’m positive he will indeed develop that grief and yearning, once he remembers the love and care that he and Tommy got from Wanda and Vision. Then his wish at the end of the Road will be to get his whole family back. Tommy will awaken in Tommy Shepherd’s newly-dead body, Wanda will return to life, and White Vision will gain Hex Vision’s memories if he doesn’t have them already. Afterward, Billy will first focus on finding Tommy, and then the two of them will put their heads together to figure out what really happened to their real parents. Which will tie into Vision Quest.

I don’t know yet if he will keep Jeff and Rebecca in his life after this, or if he will be honest with them. We’ll see. (He definitely should hold onto Eddie; he’s a winner.)

But overall, I’m really quite satisfied with Billy wanting Tommy back, and I hope with all my heart that he gets his wish at the end of the Road.

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jozor-johai · 4 months ago

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Just a thought about Archmaester Marwyn's motives, maybe...

Archmaester Marwyn is of course infamously mysterious, appearing on-page in only one chapter, and once he finally appears he immediately departs. He gives cryptic warnings and advice to Sam, but the reader is left desperately wondering what to believe and what should be taken as untrustworthy ravings. Amidst all that, readers are left with very little to be sure of when it comes to Marwyn’s actual motives.

He says this of his plans, a brief enough description:

“Get myself to Slaver’s Bay, in Aemon’s place. The swan ship that delivered Slayer should serve my needs well enough. The grey sheep will send their man on a galley, I don’t doubt. With fair winds I should reach her first.”

That's still quite cryptic—sure we knew why Aemon wanted to reach Dany, but does Marwyn have the same reasons? Or even similar ones?

However, there’s a fragment of an idea from an Asha chapter that I think should not go overlooked, and might offer some additional insight into Marwyn’s investment in Daenerys. Asha asks what Rodrik the Reader is reading, and it’s a book by Archmaester Marwyn:

“Nuncle.” She closed the door behind her. “What reading was so urgent that you leave your guests without a host?” “Archmaester Marwyn’s Book of Lost Books.” He lifted his gaze from the page to study her. “Hotho brought me a copy from Oldtown. He has a daughter he would have me wed.” Lord Rodrik tapped the book with a long nail. “See here? Marwyn claims to have found three pages of Signs and Portents, visions written down by the maiden daughter of Aenar Targaryen before the Doom came to Valyria. Does Lanny know that you are here?” (AFFC The Kraken’s Daughter)

So shortly we finally meet Marwyn, we learn this: he claims to have found three pages of visions written down by Daenys the Dreamer, who predicted the Doom and saved the Targaryens from destruction.

What might Marwyn have found contained in those pages? Even three pages of such a valuable lost book might be enough motivation and insight to propel Marwyn to act, especially when he claims to have seen much and more besides through his glass candle.

Marwyn claims not to trust prophecy… but perhaps his attitude is affected by these three pages of Signs and Portents.

“Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy.” Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor. “Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is . . . and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time.” He chewed a bit. “Still . . .”

That “Still…” might hold a lot of weight here.

This is but one of many minor mentions of Marwyn have preceded his appearance, but especially because this detail from Rodrik comes from the same book he finally appears in I think it should be given special attention. I think it’s no accident that GRRM gave us this insight, no matter how brief.

Just making an observation.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #jozor thoughts #valyrianscrolls #daenerys targaryen #marwyn the mage #sam tarly

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skipper1331 · 1 year ago

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For the better // Esme Morgan

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it.

Esme was the love of your life.

She was sweet, loving and the most caring person you knew. She supported and loved you unconditionally - or so you thought.

The last few weeks, Esme‘s love felt distant, she kept her distance.

She did cuddle you at night and she did kiss you every time she could but each time it felt like it would be the last time you would feel her lips against your own. There was a certain sadness in the air, but you didn’t know why nor did you push her to talk to you. She would talk to you when she’s ready.

You sat in the living room, watching some random tv show as you heard the door open. Shortly after, the tall blonde entered the door you were sat in, "hi" you smiled, puckering your lips.

Something was wrong. Esme‘s eyes were red and puffy, did she cry?

"Hey, what‘s wrong?" you asked, leaving your seat from the couch as you took the few steps towards the defender. Your hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing it softly, "you can talk to me" you whispered. She inhaled sharply, eyes closing as she leaned down, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you close.

She kissed you like you were her forever.

She kissed you like you were the love of her life.

She kissed you good bye.

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to contain herself, it‘s for the better. I‘m doing this for you.

You felt it, this wasn‘t a kiss because she was sad. She was about to do something, wasn‘t she?

"Esme…" you whispered as you took a step back, eyes wide.

You felt your heart break even though she didn‘t say anything yet, you could tell what was about to come - you‘d watched enough of romance-sad movies.

"I‘m so sorry" she apologized, "I want to break up" her own heart broke into thousand of pieces while saying those horrible words.

Shock was written over your face as hurt flashed through your whole body, "why?" you rasped, eyes getting blurry, tears about to fall.

She avoided eye contact, staring at the ground as her head hung low - in shame.

After a few broken seconds of silence, she spoke again, "I should go"

It only made you angrier, storming over, you grabbed her wrist, "look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t love me anymore"

Both of your faces held so much emotions but one was the same: the world had just crashed down on you.

Never in a million years, you would‘ve thought that Esme would break up with you - not after 5 years.

Never in a million years, Esme would‘ve thought that she would break up with you.

You loved her.

She loved you.

Easy - yet she couldn‘t be with you anymore. It‘s for the better.

"I can‘t" she stated firmly. Your shoulders sagged, you had lost hope. If that‘s what she really wanted, you would support her - even if it broke your heart. If it‘s for the better.

Taking your chin between her thumb and index finger, she pressed one final kiss to your forehead.

I am sorry.

And I do love you.

Your once shared flat felt no longer like home. It felt weird to lay in bed without Esme, to know that she wouldn‘t come back - that she wouldn‘t join you. You were wide awake, wondering what the was blonde was doing at the moment. If she missed you the way you missed her? You had no energy to cry as you already cried the whole evening. What did you do wrong?

With dark circles under the eyes you went to training, your eyes looked swollen, noticeable for everyone. It was clear that something had happened because Esme looked the same. Both of you looked tired and exhausted, like neither of you had a minute of sleep which was the case.

So while Esme stayed at Hempo’s and Chloe’s side, you never left the Aussies sides, Mary and Alanna cheering you up. Well, at least they tried to.

At the end of training, you had lost all your patience, motivation and passion.

City did no longer feel like home. Manchester did no longer feel like home.

Esme was your home.

"Tommy?" you whispered into the phone, your manager answering with "yeah?"

The past week was horrible. To see Esme every day broke your heart in more and more pieces. You stopped leaving of your flat if not necessary, you ditched plans with friends - most of the time you sat in the living room crying while you ate ice cream and watched Glee. You didn‘t know what Esme was up to or where she lived, all you knew was that you didn‘t want to be in Manchester anymore, let alone the same country.

"I’ll do it" you told him, not much thought behind it.

You wanted to leave and you did.

As the season came to an end and the transfer window opened, you were the first to sign somewhere you always wanted to sign.

FC Barcelona.

It took you one week to get to leave Manchester.

You didn‘t say good bye to your friends and team mates, you just left the City and country.

It was your way of escaping the pain, your heartbreak.

It‘s for the better.

Barcelona as the club and as the City was amazing. Your new team mates greeted you with open arms and made you feel more than welcome. You settled in quite well, you stuck to your national team mates, Keira and Lucy, though. They helped you to furnish your new flat - not a picture with Esme anywhere.

It was Lucy who brought her up one day as the two of you sat in a little café. The og lioness had always been like a sister to you, she had taken you under wig the moment you joined City and the senior lionesses squad. She knew something was off, Keira had noticed it too, the way your smile never reached the top, your eyes not shining the way they used to. The sparkle was missing - the sparkle Esme was responsible for.

"So you alright, kid?" the defender asked as she sat across from you, sipping her coffee.

"No" you answered straightforward, munching on your panini.

"Esme?-"

"Broke up with me" you took a large sip of your drink, avoiding eye contact at every cost. If you looked at Lucy, you would’ve broke down in the middle of the day. Which did already happen a lot more often than you would‘ve liked, you just couldn‘t help it. Everything remind you of Esme: sometimes it was a song, the pictures on your phone or you just missed in her in general. It didn‘t make any sense. Why did she break up with you? It was the question that kept you awake at night.

"Did she tell you why?"

"No, she said fucking nothing" you spat, getting angrier by each second that went by. "I left the second I could. I couldn‘t stand seeing her" you admitted in a low voice, some tears streaming down your face, "It‘s like I can’t breathe anymore and I don‘t know what do to"

Wordlessly, the lioness stood up and took the a seat next to you, her arms going around your shoulders as she pulled you close.

"I‘m sorry"

Nothing more was said as she held you, tears wetting her shirt.

Being in the starting line up made you nervous - debut time.

With the Barca crest on your chest you felt so much pride. You did it. You made your childhood dream come true.

The game went amazing, you played phenomenal, the way you could link up with the girls, create chances and even score a debut goal was pure class. You celebrated like you usually would, a celebration Esme requested ages ago for you to do one time - you did it every time since then.

And maybe it was wrong to do so, she wasn‘t your girlfriend anymore, she wasn‘t even a friend, she was- well, nobody. Somebody you used to know.

Fuck that.

She was everything.

She was still the love of your life.

She would forever be the girl of your dreams.

She was fucking everything.

Unknown to you, the tall blonde stood in the stands of the stadium. She watched you shine while she wore your lionesses jersey. Everything you did, she watched with heart eyes, a proud smile displayed on her face as she cheered for you proudly. You did it. She couldn’t be prouder.

Barcelona made you glow and grow.

It was indeed for the better.

International break.

Something you hadn‘t thought about. When Sarina called, you didn’t say no. Of course not. You loved to represent England and the lionesses were a big family - your family.

As the days went the by and camp got closer, your heart went crazy. Your thoughts were consumed by Esme. Like always.

Esme.

You would lie, if you said you didn’t look at old pictures of the two of you.

You would lie, if you said you didn‘t cry yourself to sleep.

You would lie, if you said you didn‘t love her.

She used to be your best friend, soulmate and girlfriend, you were miserable without her.

Don‘t get me wrong, you went out with the Barca girls, they were a bunch of goofballs which you loved but your other half was missing. There was no one you could tell about your day, whether it was good, bad or just boring.

The thoughts just stayed inside of you.

Your bubbly side was missing. The transfer was a great decision for your career, you became the best version of yourself as a football player but as a human, you were the worst version of yourself. In no way, you were rude or mean towards anyone - it was just, the sparkle that was missing.

Lucy could sense your shut down. The way you gripped the seat in the plane, your eyes drained on the seat in front of you, burning holes into it as your jaw was clenched, veins popping up.

Esme.

Arriving at St. George’s Park was interesting. Lucy was engaging you in a conversation, talking about Barcelona as you stepped into the facility. What you failed to notice, thanks to Lucy, was that just minutes earlier the City girls had arrived. Esme was standing next to the much smaller Lauren Hemp as they turned around.

The tall blondes breath hitched, you looked breathtaking. Everything Chloe said fell to deaf ears, her only remaining focus: you.

Feeling eyes on you, you turned your head away from Lucy to see the City girl.

"Esme" you breathed out, suitcase dropping out of your hand as it clattered to the ground. Inaudible, you gulped, breathing quickening. She looked beautiful. Mixed feelings rushed through your body: relief, anger and anxiety.

You felt relieved to see her after what felt like ages - finally able to breathe again.

It made you angry to see her, standing there like that and looking pretty.

And then you felt anxious. Should you say hello? No, right? She broke up with you - not the other way around. The City girls, did they hate you? You left without another word, they were your friends too. Nobody knew you left, not until City announced your leaving and Barcelona announced your signing.

You wanted to cry, to be honest. Your whole world crashed down again. She was only a few meters away from you and yet it felt like she was on the other side of the world.

From strangers to friends, friends in to lovers and strangers again.

Lucy cleared her throat to bring you out of your trance, the blonde still having you wrapped around her finger even without doing anything. But what did you expect? You loved her and some months were definitely not enough to get over her, nor would be a year. It was Esme, your sweet girl.

Caught off guard, you grabbed your suitcase, mumbling something before you walked away. The facility, a place you knew well enough.

"Wait up" Lucy called, pulling her suitcase with her as she jogged in your direction.

"Do you still think it was for the better?" Lauren asked, "she looks so heartbroken."

Esme ignored her as she fought against her own tears.

You weren‘t the only one who had to deal with a heartbreak. Just because Esme was the person who actually ended it didn‘t mean she enjoyed it. She loved you. She loved you the same as before and she‘ll forever do so.

She did for you. It‘s for the better.

You didn‘t interact much with Esme and if you did, only on the pitch. It already hurt enough knowing she was there, but not yours.

She was your colleague now.

It seemed like Sarina hated you, pairing you up with Esme all the time. Of course that wasn‘t the case, the blonde defender and you had just so much chemistry on the pitch. You work together like an oiled machine which you hated.

You hated that you were still the same old duo.

You hated that she crossed passes to you like nobody else could.

You hated that you still loved her.

Though, both of you stayed silent while doing the drills.

colleague nothing more.

Back in your room, you fell on the bed, your roommate somewhere in facility. You felt physically and mentally exhausted.

As a soft knock was heard, you sat up, did she forget her key card?

Opening the door, you were met with a sight you didn‘t expect, "hi…" the tall girl said.

Anger floated through your body as you wanted to slam the door. You didn‘t. Instead you asked monotonously, "what do you want?"

She winced at your tone, so foreign.

"I‘m sorry- I didn‘t know why I came" she muttered, turning on her heels.

"You broke up with me" you stated, stepping in the hall. The defender stopped, "I did" she answered.

"Why?"

"Because it‘s for the better. Have a good night, y/n" with that she left, yourself feeling angrier than before.

It’s for the better, really? What kind of answer was that?!

You did not cry that night, your clenched jaw prevented it - your anger prevented it.

As soon as you woke up the next day, your anger was back and higher than before. You just wanted one reason why she broke up with you, so you could start healing.

It angered you to see her at breakfast - smiling.

It angered you to see her on the pitch - on the same team as you.

Everything she did angered you.

And suddenly you snapped.

It was just the two of you left in the changing room, the other girls already heading to dinner. As Esme was about to walk out, you marched over, blocking the door.

"No"

The blonde looked confused, what was going on? "No. Tell me why you broke up with me" your index finger poked her chest angrily as you took some steps forwards, the defender walking backwards. "After 5 years, Esme" a tear rolled out of your eye as she wanted so desperately to wipe it away. "You threw me away like I was nothing, like we were nothing."

"Don‘t say that" she whispered, closing her eyes to hold back the tears.

"But you did!" you shouted, angrily wiping away the tears that streamed down your face. Grabbing your wrists gently, she pulled your hands away, "you‘ll hurt yourself" and it broke you.

In the middle of the changing room, you started crying like you did the nights before you left Manchester and like you did the nights in Barcelona.

"Don‘t fucking touch me" immediately she dropped your hands, mumbling an apology.

Taking a deep breath, "I heard you talking" she said while sitting down at a random cubby.

"with whom?"

"Tommy"

Tommy and you sat at the dinner table, notes splayed across the table as his laptop was there as well.

"These are the offers" he told you as he leafed through the folder, "and that‘s the best" opening something on his screen, your eyes stopped at the club logo.

Barcelona.

"They want you"

Your eyes went wide, Barcelona wow. They‘re amazing, big fan ever since you‘re little. "They want you now"

He started talking about the contract, your salary, game appearances and more.

He simply talked you through every stage of the contract, their thoughts about signing you, every detail they stated in their document.

Two hours later, he leaned back in his chair, "it‘s now up to you if you want to do it"

"It would be amazing, wouldn‘t it?" you mumbled, biting on your lower lip. That‘s what you always wanted.

Barcelona. The best.

But that was before you met Esme, the girl of your dreams. "It would be perfect for your career"

"Do I have time to think about it?"

"They want an answer at the end of next week. Do you have doubts?" he asked kindly.

Over the years, Tommy became much more than just being a manager - a friend.

"I don‘t know. I‘d love to play there but City is my home. Esme is my home" you told him, fingers massaging your temples.

"You’d give up this of an opportunity for her?"

You looked at him - answering without hesitation, "yes"

"Okay" nothing more was said, he respected your answer and he understood that you had to think about such a decision, "call me when you have an answer."

"You would‘ve said no" she told you, her hand wiping over her face, "and I couldn’t let that happen"

"so you broke up with me because- " you connected the dots, realization hitting you like a truck.

"Well, I thought if I broke up with you, you would sign that contract. The thing you always wanted" she shrugged her shoulders, her only ever intention was for you to follow your dream - the dream you had since you were a little girl. Who was she to stop you from living it?

"You’re an asshole!" you yelled, marching the locker room up and down, "do you know what you put me through?!"

The defender stood up, your rapid movement stressing her out and her own anger slowly bubbling up, "i did what was the best for you!"

"Fuck you" you spat.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you would‘ve said yes"

you couldn’t.

"Thought so"

"You had no right to break my heart like that!"

"I had no other choice! I didn‘t want to be the reason you didn‘t fulfill your dream!"

Grumbling, you stood up with new anger, hurt and confusion.

"I did it because I love you! I love you more than anything and to think that you would miss the opportunity to- to play alongside Alexia Putellas, Aitana Bonmatí and so on, for me, frustrated me. You have to think about yourself first-"

"You love me?" you cut her off, heart feeling so many emotions as your body felt so confused and mind was spinning.

"I never stopped"

"Esme…"

"You don‘t need to say it back- well, um actually, it would be okay if you don‘t love me anymore. I get it-"

You couldn’t stand it anymore - to think that you didn’t love her. After everything, there wasn‘t a day where you didn‘t love her. Your body, soul and mind was consumed by Esme. She was the love of your life. So you just kissed her. Your lips pressed desperately against the blondes, hands cupping her cheeks as her hands found your waist. She gasped into your mouth, caught off guard. There was nothing sweet about this kiss - Esme and you mostly shared the most sweetest kisses but not now. Not after everything. The kiss was rough, anger and frustration purred into one another, yet the both of you happy to feel each others touch again.

"I love you, you idiot" you muttered between more kisses.

With the need of oxygen, she pulled away, resting her forehead against your own, "do you?" big wide eyes looked at you, so much hope behind the orbs - the orbs you hadn‘t seen in so long.

"I do" you purred, playing with her baby hair, "you hurt me though"

She nodded slowly, her hands still around your waist, afraid you would disappear, "I need time"

She hummed, mumbling apology after apology. She never meant to hurt you, she just wanted you to be happy.

"I love you so much" Esme mumbled, pressing featherlight kisses along your jaw, stopping an inch above your lips, "you‘re so beautiful" gently, interlocking your lips, she kissed you good morning, the Spanish sun shining in your bedroom.

The last two weeks of the off-season Esme was in Spain visiting you and before that, the both of you visited Greece as you enjoyed your holidays together.

After a year, things were thankfully back normal. Neither of you could stay away from each other and after the day in the changing room, many conversations followed and your trust was slowly built up again.

This was Esme we were talking about, the sweetest girl in the world who no bad cell in her body and was always thinking about you.

Like before your break up, she took you out on dates - it didn‘t matter that she was in Manchester and you in Barcelona, she called you every day to ask how your day was and when she visited you or the other way around, you spent the day in the best ways possible: going out, playing mini-golf and so on. Esme had many cute little date ideas.

And after that year, where trust was earned back, love got stronger and missed kisses were shared, she asked you to be her girlfriend. To which you obviously answered with yes.

You loved Esme.

Esme loved you.

The way she handled things was wrong but you understood her - she wanted you to be happy and to be honest, she was right: it was for the better.

Your prime time was, is and will be at Barca, till the end of the line.

You would‘ve regretted it if you had said no.

So maybe your break up wasn‘t the worst thing. For sure, you never felt that much pain in the time of your break up ever before and you never want to experience something like that again but after all, Esme tried to push you in the right direction - to help you. She had no bad thought in mind, just what was the best for you.

And back strong again, one day not your surname will be at the back of your Barca jersey but Morgan.

It was indeed for the better.

————————

#esme morgan #esme morgan x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #lionesses #lucy bronze #lauren hemp #chloe kelly #manchester city x reader #man city x reader #man city women #manchester city women

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itstheghostofmypast · 11 months ago

Text

☆22.59☆

(College AU) Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: Of course, they loved each other. He was obsessed with her. She, with him to some extent, but to recognise each other outside the four walls of their comfort was a 'no-no'. Perhaps because as much as they loved each other, who knew being academic rivals would be so problematic.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: nc-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9K

Est. Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Epilogue: His Little Cowboy

"I'm so glad we're done with exams." He sighed, sitting down and rolling his shoudlers, before rubbing his neck and eying the food, then deciding to order another round.

"Mhmm... I was so glad to close all the tabs today. My laptop practically thanked me." Smiling, she leaned forward on her elbows, "Is this why we're having an expensive meal?"

Her words held no real malice, but an air of unease, she never liked how he'd casually spend like this, especially on her, she had done nothing to deserve this, and the constant reminder of how he'd always pay whenever it was pricey would nip at her self pride.

He paused to look at her before pouting, "No, I just wanted to treat my girl." Mumbling he moved the tray towards her, gesturing for her to start first, trying to ignore her lingering gaze, the eerie nostalgia setting in, he knew what she'd get like during exam season, extremely cynical and skeptical, to be honest he was no different- but they were finally free and perhaps he just wanted to enjoy a nice meal with her, no hidden intentions or ulterior motives, nothing to think about but each other.

"Then let's go dutch-"

"Not a chance." His abrupt words cut her off, for a split second his tone reverted back to the one she was used to, the tone he'd use back in the day, to snub her or out do her while answering, this tone was often accompanied by a scoff, the only gesture that would mildly indicate that this was but a fun little game, though she knew when the tone was all that would surface, he'd be serious, in no mood for negotiation. Fortunately, he had barely ever used it with her, often in times of forcing her to do something good for herself, like to rest or to eat, but she'd seen him use the same tone with a few people, who were once her friends, he didn't know she was there, standing behind the wall, listening to him call out her so called friends, people who'd just use her for her work, leeching off her academics, knowing she'd be too tired to even argue or say no, or even too guilty when one of them would bring up how smart she was and that made her arrogant- she heard him that day, the crisp morning air wasn't as cold as his words,

"Your incompetence is a curse you should bear on your own. Don't drag others down in that pitiful hole of yours, especially her."

That day she had lost an entire circle of friends, at a point she wondered if it was even worth it, wondered why he even said that when a class ago he had called her 'a silly little girl' for arguing about what a Freudian slip was when she was clearly wrong, now here he was defending her honour? On the same day he had come to her, sitting next to her in the library and slipping her a coupon, initially she had thought he was insulting her- a typical bourgeoisie move, only to realise it was a coupon for a couple's meal, noticing him side eying her to read her expressions. She had turned to him, pointing at the coupon, herself and then him, and as wordlessly as she had spoken, he too nodded, pointing at himself, her and then the coupon. Something had begun to blossom between the two that day, a relationship both were too afraid to talk about, perhaps because of their on going rivalry since the beginning of their academic year, or the way they'd ignore each other until one would bother the other, or perhaps the fear of being questioned by the lingering gazes around the hallways, the whispers the wind carried around the campus- wanting not to be part of the gust of wind, choosing to keep whatever this was hidden, a secret shared by just the two.

"I mean...I'd prefer you don't, I wanted to treat you," his argument coming out softer, as he nodded to the waiter who had entered the private section after knocking, to place another tray in front of them, "Just us and a nice meal...I haven't spent enough time with you....that's why." Clearing his throat , he avoided the way she studied him, eyes scanning each feature, every gesture, every breath he'd take, to be able to study his next more, to prepare herself. Truth be told he hated it when she'd do that, this was the first thing that irked him about her, and although he had always been gentle natured, this trait of hers would always have his ulterior ego surface, ready to claw her. It took him some time to realise that was just the face she'd make while thinking, not only at him but everyone, including her exam sheet. That did not mean that being together made it any easy for him, in fact, now he'd feel small when she'd look at him like that, he'd feel as if his sincerity was being questioned, it made him dislike himself, was he not clear enough? Was the choice of words not point to point? Maybe his tone was ooff-

"Oh...well you're right, I guess I am to blame for that, I kind of mentally blocked you out." Mumbling sheepishly she reached across the table to hold his hand, her the tips of her fingers caressing the back of his hand, noting how he visibly relaxed, "In my defense there's this annoying guy in class who thinks he's so smart-"

"Thinks?" With a scoff he laced their fingers together, leaning closer to the table to eye her, his frown morphing into his signature dimpled smile at the sound of her laughter, before he continued, adding onto the playful banter, "Last time I checked this guy beat you in the Moral Philosophy 101 quiz and assignment."

Shrugging in response she grabbed the chopsticks with her free hand, "Beginners luck. Also consequentialism sucks, you're just a utilitarian at heart, that's why you got lucky." With that verdict she began eating, earning a cackle in return, the atmosphere around them calming down once more, allowing her to relax, much to his pleasure. He had begged her to go out with him last week too, claiming that they were left with just one exam so they could relax a bit, though she had threatened to block him if he kept pestering her, which is why he had stopped spam texting her.

However, finally tonight, now that they were free he had earned the right to become her Sannie again, to roll around on her bed, messing with the sheets while she would be scrolling on her phone trying to ignore how his antics were toppling off her plushies to the floor. He'd be able to whine and complain when she'd wake him up early because the 'cafeteria is serving Yaki Udon',

"Go, they let you sneak some to your dorm, sneak some here"

"It's...6 am...let's just eat something else."

"If I had the rich boy privellage, I'd go myself, but alas-"

"Are you really guilt tripping me for being rich?"

"No, my sweet nepo-baby I'm stating a mere fact."

"A nepo-baby would be a business major like his father, not a communication major-"

"And that's why you're my favourite boy, Sannie."

That day he got her four bowls of udon, even sneaking in the dessert Wooyoung had gotten for himself, and when asked he told Wooyoung he had eaten it, never mentioning her.

That was another issue, he had to keep his relationship a secret from his friends too, initially it was fun, the thrill and excitement would have him shivering with glee, but recently, after most of his friends now had a significant other whom they would publicly walk around with or show affection to, he had begun to wonder if she'd ever want that with him. Or were they just college sweethearts, soon to be forgotten, a bitter sweet memory plastered at the back of their minds, one to return to when times would get rough.

"What's wrong?"

Her question cutting off his thought process only for him to realise how he had just been staring at his food, while she was half way done. Clearing his throat he gave her a gentle smile, shaking his head before reaching for the soda, pouring both of them a glass. Maybe some other time, he'd ask her some other time, right now he could see how she was enjoying herself, he could see how comfortable she was with him, he had no real intentions of ruining the moment.

"Are you sure? You're making the same face you did, when you had to present last semester." Just like that he had lost all the love he had for her, no, he was dating a monster, a demon in the skin of an angel, the human embodiment of Godzilla. Eyes narrowing at her direction he scoffed, leaning back to take off his jacket, before responding with a taunt, "Says the person who forgot the meaning of utility while presenting".

With a gasp she placed her hand on her heart, staring at him in faux shock, "You fiend, that's because I'm a Kant girlie at heart."

"So...you don't think the ends justify the means?" He asked cautiously, though not of her feelings, but of the risk of his own fragile heart, too afraid to let it slip out of her grasp and shatter.

"The ends, never justify the means, Sannie." She smiled, staring at him only for it to drop when she noticed him frown at his plate, slowly nodding as he looked up at her, "Yeah...I guess..."

"What's...wrong, something has been bothering you since we came here." She sighed pushing her plate aside, watching him take out his buzzing phone, choosing to stare at the phone rather than him.

"Nothing."

His blunt response nipping at her insecurities, what did she do? Should she not have said that? Did she offend him? Was he going to leave her now? They were in their final year anyway, the time spent together was supposed to come to an end and as much as she wanted to cling onto the false hope of him somehow spending the rest of his life together with her, she knew that was but a wish, reality was far too bitter, far too grim, leaving the two to wonder when they'd become a distant memory.

"Okay."

There it was, his eyes flickered up to scan her face, that defeated look she'd hold when she'd give up, why would she never fight for him? Why didn't she pester him to finish his statement, why didn't she cling onto him, pulling him closer even though he knew he'd run to her at any given moment, he was only waiting for the signal, waiting for her to say the word. Maybe Wooyoung was right, this was just a fun arrangement for the two, a temporary one, which is why Hongjoong had asked him to confront her, but he didn't want to, yet, here he was by choosing to not confront her he had somehow made it worse.

Visibly flinching under his glare she averted her gaze, clearing her throat, playing with her fingers as she stared at her lap aimlessly, so what now?

"What about us?" His words a gentle whisper as he put his phone on the table beside his plate, hunching forward to get a better look at her face, "Does our end justify our means?"

Her head snapped up in his direction, the burning sensation of the flood of tears at the brink of falling, she could feel the fat droplets clinging to her lower lashes, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to compose herself, "Which end...Sannie, the one where we say goodbye?"

His frown only deepened at her question, taking in her shaking form, pinching himself as he tried ro remain rooted to his spot. Seonghwa had told him to listen to her, to comfort and console her because women need time to process and cope, especially someone like her, but then Hongjoong's persistent 'What if she really is with you for the ride', kept bothering him, what if he were right, but at the back of his mind, this little voice was yelling at him, telling him how that was not true, how he'd seen her take care of him, how he'd felt her love for him; from when she'd slip in her extra notes in his bag for him to study to when she'd slip in a few packets of mint oreo in his bag as a treat. He knew they were more than just a fling, or at least he would like to believe that.

"Do you ... want us to?" His words as soft as the first time he had confessed to her, making her feel even more nauseous than before, though with a gulp she held it back before shaking her head and mumbling a, "No...do you?"

Shaking his head, much like her he sighed before staring aimlessly at her, "Then...why won't you fight for me?" This was less of a question, but more of a whine, a plea, one that had her finally snap.

Her sniff having him focus on her, watching her bring up her hands to cover her face, as she hunched over, making sure he couldn't see her cry, a trait that bothered him, he'd barely ever see her breakdown, even during the stressful exam season, she'd lock herself in the washroom and let it out, while he'd either wait outside the washroom (if he was lucky enough for her to let him into her dormroom) or like most exam seasons he'd be at his own dorm, trying to call her or text her.

"Why can't our end be happy?" He mumbled, finally choosing to get up and walk around the table and to her, glad he had reserved a closed off private section. Sighing he reached for her, gently gripping her wrists as he pulled her hands off her face, ignoring her whines and protest, "Tell me, why do you think we can't have a happy end?" Pulling her up to wrap his arms around her, letting her fist his shirt, soaking it with her tears, sobbing out a, "Because our means of doing so aren't good."

Pulling her back he stared at her, gripping her shoulders, "What do you mean? Do you not want to keep it a secret anymore?"

"I never wanted to keep it a secret, at least I dont want to anymore." She mumbled trying to hide in his embrace once more but he pulled her back again, much to her disappointment as he tried to read her, "I just thought...your image and...I...maybe you didn't want to tell anyone."

By now he had sat her back down leaning against the table as he looked at her, holding onto her hand, his thumbs caressing the back of her hand, listening to her, raising his eyebrows, "No..." he sighed before gently smiling at her, "I've been dropping hints for a while now. My last hint was what led the guys to pick up on the fact that we are together."

So his friends knew?

"Do they think I'm weird?" She whispered, trying to pull away her hand but he held onto her tighter, shaking his head and letting out a laugh, "If anything they thought I tricked you into dating me...Wooyoung didn't even believe me until he saw our pictures." He smiled at her, the memory of his friends accusing him for lying, making it even funnier, "Yeosang said he could tell you're into dumb guys."

"Well, you are dumb. There's no doubt about that." She mumbled, standing up and moving closer, so she was standing between his legs. Cupping his face, she smiled when he glared at her. The eerie sensation that was once slithering in her veins long gone, "I don't remember a single hint, though."

"How?" He whined, pouting at her, leaning into her touch, closing his eyes as he basked in the attention, the same attention he knew he would recieve publically from now on, there would be nothing holding them back, not her toxic friends, those who stared or whispered, in fact his friends would just support them, perhaps she needed such a support system too, would be good for her, "Yesterday after the exam I called you out, I said see you tomorrow babe."

"Thought that was a Freudian slip."

"Oh, so now you know what a Freudian slip is?" His eyes snapped open, brows furrowing at her smug expression, hissing when she squeezed his cheeks together, only to pull back when he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight until she was wheezing out apologies. Giving him a proper hug once he eased down on her, she sighed, pressing her forehead against his,"I really do like you, Sannie."

"I like you too." He smiled, feeling her brush her lips against his, whispering against her lips, only his next statement had him feeling her stiffen and possibly struggle against him but he held her tight, not wanting to be smacked, "They updated the marksheet, I scored higher than you in Moral Philosophy....again...sorry babe." Followed by his boisterous laughter and her whining to let him go, greatly ruining the moment.

A/N: I had to get this out of my system okay- my exams just finished. The next update ya'll will see will be of Meow Chapter 4

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt

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justauthoring · 8 months ago

Text

and i wonder... who? [7]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: this isn't my favourite chapter but i wanted to get it out before i lost the motivation to finish it

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee - @yourfavepookiebear let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

Geto and Gojo don’t stay for long.

It’s an unexpected, odd but comfortable air that falls around the three of you and despite the events of the night and Sukuna’s actions, you find yourself crawling into bed with a huge smile. Your mother, when she comes home, is confused on why you’re so happy but you’re careful to keep the reason why limited.

You’re not exactly sure she’d be all that impressed with you inviting two boys over, alone, when it was dark. And you don’t even want to know what would happen if she had found out and told your father.

So, you just tell her it’s because you had a fun night out with Shoko at the amusement park before excusing yourself to bed. Which, speaking of Shoko, you figure you should probably tell her the truth—the last thing you wanted to do was leave her excluded and she was your best friend, so you feel she deserved to know the truth.

Of course, she’s upset you didn’t tell her right away and she also professes that she’s “going to kill Sukuna”, but after you talk her down from that, she’s very understanding. The two of you ended up talking for way too long and you go to bed way too late, but nonetheless, the rest of the weekend is spent catching up on homework and relaxing.

Monday morning sneaks up way too fast, like it always does, but oddly you aren’t nervous. Actually, you wake up earlier than you normally do and get ready with a pep in your step, humming softly to yourself as you do. You eat breakfast with your mother who makes a comment on your happiness, to which you simply shrug and she gives you a weird look and then you meet up with Shoko, as you normally do, and walk to school together.

Morning classes go by smoothly.

Geto winks at you when he catches your eye when you come into class, to which Shoko raises a brow at you and you simply shrug. You send him a wave in return, trying to fight the blush that threatens to grow on your cheeks, before taking a seat. Sukuna’s there, a black eye and a bandage on his cheek, but you promptly avoid his gaze and it seems like he does much of the same.

Halfway through the lesson, Gojo texts you and when you don’t answer him right away, he sends you three more until you finally do reply and then promptly get caught with your phone by the teacher who promptly confiscates it.

You make the mental note to curse Gojo out.

But despite all that, everything’s good.

Lunch rolls around and Shoko says she’ll meet you at the cafe after you’re done getting reprimanded by the teacher with a laugh, to which you smile sarcastically at her but nonetheless agree.

And even though your teacher is harsh, like he always is, he gives you back your phone and you hurry to leave the class, feeling your belly growl at you in hunger.

You’re in the midst of sending Gojo one particularly long-winded text about bothering you during class when your name is called.

Blinking, you glance up, mid-text, only to instantly frown when you see Mei Mei.

Instantly, your mood drops – this was not good.

You’ve never gotten along with Mei Mei.

You still remember the first day you met her. It was fifth grade and you’d just moved. You’d been nervous all weekend about starting a new school and it was even worse because your parents had had you move in the middle of the school year, so while everyone else had had time to get to know each other and bond, you were coming in as the random ‘new’ girl.

Your mother had helped you with your hair, a brand-new backpack and school uniform had been bought for you over the weekend, and then she drove you to school instead of leaving you to walk or take the bus. You’d been a bundle of nerves all morning, feeling sick to your stomach, and when you’d finally arrived and your teacher had introduced you to the front of the class, you could’ve sworn you’d thrown up if you even faltered for a moment.

But you got through it, and you were placed at a desk, and that was that.

Then, lunch rolled around.

All the kids had jumped to their feet and raced outside, and you’d trailed slowly behind, not sure who to approach or if you even should.

You didn't have to, though. Because a minute after standing there aimlessly, a girl just slightly taller than you with the brightest white-hair you’d ever seen walked right up to you. Behind her had stood two girls you don’t remember, but nonetheless, she’d smiled at you and asked if you wanted to hang out with her and her friends.

Thinking that you’d lucked out and found a friend, you’d eagerly agreed.

Only to end up with her yogurt poured all over your head, ruining your hair and new uniform, and leaving you in tears. Her and her friends had laughed at you as she’d done it, and to top it all off she’d smiled cruelly as she asked;

“Who would want to be friends with a loser like you?”

Her and her friends mocking laughter had been joined by the whole class until the teacher had run out, demanded to know what had happened and Mei Mei had then promptly blamed the whole thing on you. Your teacher, furious, had lectured you in front of everyone, before calling your mother, who had to leave work, to take you home for the day.

You’re still not sure what you did to Mei Mei to make her treat you that way.

And why it seems like she still hated you to this day.

“I’m gonna make you pay.”

Swallowing thickly, you shuffle on your feet, moving back to create some distance. “Mei Mei, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Sukuna is the one that—”

“Hit you?” Mei Mei cuts in, crossing her arms over her chest as she raises a brow at you. Your lips parted at her interruption, not really sure how to react given that it seemed she didn’t care that Sukuna was a complete and total asshole. Maybe, you guessed, it wasn’t even that but the fact she knew and still didn’t seem bothered by it “Yeah, I know,” she huffs, “and I’m glad he did it. You deserve it.”

Gaping at her, you shake your head; “I deserve it?”

She takes a menacing step forward and your body tenses, eyes carefully watching her movements. Mei Mei doesn’t seem bothered–the wicked smile on her face remains present and terrifying and there’s a certain manic edge to her eyes that has you swallowing thickly. You hate that you find yourself afraid of this girl, but the trauma roots deep from that fateful day in fifth grade when she’d played you like a fool and humiliated you in front of the whole class. You knew what this girl was capable of, and it was blatantly clear that she had some serious issues that allowed her to gain enjoyment from terrorizing others.

“You’ll see,” she growls. “You’ll regret the day you decided to ever try and be my friend.”

Your lips part and you’re stunned. Honestly, you’re not even sure what to say. Was she serious? She was angry at you… for what? You trying to be her friend when she was the one who offered in the first place? Or the fact that all along it had just been one big rouse to embarrass you?

And somehow that was your fault?

Clearly this was far more than just Sukuna–maybe, for all you knew, he was just the cherry on top of her burning hatred for you.

Mei Mei is slamming into your shoulder before you can gather a coherent thought enough to speak, walking past you without another word and leaving you to watch her dissipating figure in absolute bafflement.

You stare at her for a moment longer, before there’s a buzz from your phone and you’re pulled from your thoughts.

Lunch.

That’s right. It was lunch. And if you weren’t quick, you’d miss it.

Not bothering to glance at your phone, figuring it was just Shoko wondering where you were or Gojo being annoying, you continue your way to the cafeteria. You make the mental note to talk to Shoko about Mei Mei, but push it from your mind nonetheless. Truthfully, you were just tired of having to deal with this whole Sukuna thing and it was easier to just push it from your mind and ignore it, then play into the reactions he and Mei Mei clearly wanted from you.

You’re turning the corner into the cafeteria, thinking about what you’d like to eat and keeping an eye peeled out for Shoko when you notice the stares. You don’t notice them right away, lost in your own thoughts, and then you catch the glare of a girl you’ve never even met staring at you from across the lunch way; with her, you notice the others.

It feels like everyone–it might as well be everyone–in that cafeteria is staring at you. And not just staring at you but glaring. Harshly. Their gazes burn with something nasty and there’s judgement clear on their faces as they stare back at you.

Just what was—

A hand latches around your wrist and instinctively, you gasp, body tensing in fear only to calm when you realize it’s Shoko.

You don’t notice the panicked look on her face right away, instead moving to ask; “hey, Shoko, is there something on my face? Because everyone—”

You notice it, however, when her grip on your wrist pinches.

“Y/N,” she breathes, panicked, “I—...”

Gojo has called you three times.

Three times.

And you still haven’t answered.

Pouting, Gojo glares at his phone – seriously, were you doing this on purpose?

Why were you ignoring him?

With one lasting glance at his screen, Gojo’s decision is made for him then. If you weren’t going to answer him, through text or call or otherwise, then Gojo would leave you with no other choice.

He’d make you answer him.

“Shoko-san.”

Shoko isn’t quite sure what it is that Geto wants from him, but a single glance at the look in his eyes and she knows it can’t be anything good.

Really, though, Shoko isn’t sure anything is good right now.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Y/L/N?”

Ah. Straight to the point then.

Honestly, Shoko had figured that was what Geto was approaching her for anyways. She’d known Geto Suguru for years and while they had never had any animosity between each other, Shoko could hardly consider them friends. Acquaintances, maybe, and even that felt like it was stretching it a bit.

Truthfully, Geto had always just sort of been there and that was really it.

He’d known the guy since she was in pigtails and he was a snot-mouthed boy.

But Shoko wasn’t so oblivious to not have noticed that Geto had seemed to take a particular liking to you recently. It had started subtly and just kind of grown from there. You’d been particularly silent about it, but Shoko saw the way you sent Geto glances or the small smiles that Geto would send in return; she also knew that you’d gone to that amusement park with him and Gojo.

And of course, considering recent events… well, Shoko would be just plain stupid to not have noticed.

“Home,” Shoko offers shortly.

The guy might be your friend, but he was still part of the reason why you were home — whether that was Geto’s fault or not Shoko still wasn’t sure.

“I need to talk to her,” Geto rushes, “she’s not answering my texts.”

There’s a certain odd sense of panic in Geto’s eyes that Shoko, despite knowing him for so long, is not sure she’s ever seen.

“You know why right?” Shoko decides to ask, quirking an accusatory brow at Geto.

He sighs, shoulders slumping; “that’s why I need to talk to her.”

“Listen,” Shoko figures she’ll just cut straight to the point. She’s never been one to beat around the bush anyways. “If you know that, then you know why I can’t help you. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll answer. I’m not gonna give you anything. Especially because I don’t trust you had nothing to do with it.”

Geto huffs, “you really think I’d do that?” He asks, somewhat terse. “Besides, it’s my name that’s being dragged to the dirt too.”

“We both know nobody has anything negative to say about you or Gojo,” Shoko huffs, shaking her head. “But everyone certainly has plenty to say about Y/N. It’s fucked up. Sukuna’s the one that cheated on her, not the other way around.”

Just thinking about it is enough to get Shoko riled up all over again.

“Horrible things they’re calling her,” she continues, gauging Geto for his reaction. “Just because she’s been hanging out with you and Gojo. So don’t even try and pretend like you feel a shred of what she’s experiencing.”

Geto looks shocked and mildly impressed.

“Is she okay?” Is what he settles with.

Shoko scoffs, “what do you think?”

It looks like Geto wants to say more but doesn’t know what, or figures that it won’t get him any further. With a simple huff, he turns, but instead of heading to his desk like Shoko assumes he will, he turns and walks right out of the classroom.

He should’ve figured that Geto would come too.

“She’s not answering your texts either?” Gojo asks, coming to a stop in front of Geto, the both of them stood right by your front door.

“Nope,” Geto offers back shortly, offering a quick glance towards your door.

Gojo nods, slowly, “you know who started it?”

“Nope,” Geto repeats, but then; “figure it’s that Mei Mei girl.”

Gojo tsks, rolling his eyes as he slumps. “She’s awful. Nasty girl.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Geto agrees. Then, he gestures to your door. “Think she’ll answer?”

“I don’t plan on leaving until she does,” Gojo shrugs.

Geto smiles at that – it’s short and strained, but genuine nonetheless. With that, the two boys nod at each other and head up the steps to your front door.

Since Gojo’s in front, he knocks.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader

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kaythefloppa · 4 months ago

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Wild Kratts - Chimpanzee and Me - Thoughts

The last of this week's new episode premiere, released online today alongside Salamander Streaming and Bumblezzzz. Will air on TV this coming Wednesday so as always, spoilers ahead!

K, so huge confession but Zooboomafo was the only other show by the Kratt Brothers I distinctively remember watching. I watched a few clips of Kratts' Creatures, but mistook them for WK as a kid. This is most definitely a callback to some Chimpanzee adventure episode in KC that I did not happen to pick up. So it's totally lost on me.

That being said, my prediction of references to previous Kratt Brothers' works reigns supreme (and for those who view all four Kratt Brother shows in one hollistic "canon" here's some ammo for your fan-theories).

Look at those delicious yummy grapes... wonder if they're being saved for later.

I will still never forget when the synopsis for this episode came out about Chris spraining his ankle, as well as when a synopsis for the clip came of him tripping on grapes. The constant memes and reactions omfg /silly

But seriously this man is in PAIN. This season for what it's worth, does a lot of angst and in ways you'd never expect.

I've never sprained or broken a limb, so I'm probably in no place to talk, but from the looks of that frame, Chris bent his ankle pretty damn good. He's definitely gonna be on hiatus for the next few weeks (which could ironically be taken metacontextually since after this episode we'll be on another hiatus until next year when the live show comes)

Ok let's talk about the villain's plan here. He wants to replace his Zachbots with a Chimpanzee he can roboticize to do his work. Here are my many thoughts and takeaways from this, some of which, definitely are just me reaching.

A step up from his dumbass plan in the last episode. Not threatening, but motivations that are actually sensible (but still evil though).

More than once have I seen the theory floating aound where Zach programmed his bots to be smart enough to obey his commands, but dumb enough to where they won't turn against him. I assumed that this episode was going to end with the cliche of Zach's creations turning on him as laser guided karma (hint it doesn't) so it really puts things into perspective.

Considering how we are getting two Zach-related episodes in a row, coming just off the heels of Our Blue and Green World, I like to headcanon that Zach's overall character in this batch of episodes is some form of response or byproduct of the events of that special. Because between Paisley's sudden betrayal, Donita's callous threat of physical violence in the previous episode, and his henchmen's limited intellect, he realizes how much he is fundamentally losing control, both in the villain team, and in his own endeavors as a villain. He's slowly, yet consistently and constantly being knocked down from the pedestal that he views himself on, and by trying to change the status quo with a new animal assistant, he thinks he can keep himself up at the top where he thinks he belongs, completely oblivious to how he's his own worst enemy. Yes, I'm overanalyzing all 3 episodes and I love it.

This is another moment where I HAVE to use my one-video-only-free-card to convey the point across because a certain scene is that good. This is only a 34 second action sequence where the chimpanzees are running from the Zachbots, but holy hell the background music. I had to isolate the background noises just to share it with y'all so you can see my point as to how the music absolutely carries this scene. Pure West has always gone so hard with the scores in this show, but they were absolutely on fire for this brief chase scene. I actually tensed up seeing the Chimp's mother getting torn away from her baby as the music swole up. Yet another reason why PBS should release an official soundtrack for the series, it's so fucking good.

Ok so Chris doesn't activate Chimpanzee Powers, nor does he invent the disc but goddamnit! This entire plot is so cute, and dare I say, the episode actually works better with Chris not being the one to activate the suit.

Now I can use my allotted time to point out how much I love this scene and why it makes this episode very well-liked for most people, myself included. This isn't the first PBS Kids show to educate viewers on non-verbal communication such as facial expressions and sign language, and it's definitely far from the last, but it's a really sweet and sincere moment that's both educational, and really good rep for people who use sign language. It gets its point across efficiently and could very well reach out to any children at home who use ASL. It's magnificent.

Also, Leah is fun, I hope we see her more in future eps.

THE CHIMPANZEE POWER SUIT

Ok I take it back: This is definitely the best designed Creature Power Suit of S7. I remember dreading it because of how alike Chimpanzees and Humans are physically, but oh my god I am so glad to be wrong. It's giving full Season 1 vibes (looks a lot like the Orangutan Suit, total sense), and I am all FOR IT.

And again, I feel like I would/should be angry or disappointed that Chris didn't activate the suit, but again, the plot actually works better without him using the suit, and the design of the Chimpanzee Suit itself is so good, everything just comes together neatly.

Bro is in his peak.

I mean, still peak.

Joss pointed this out better than I could, but there are a lot of varied facial expressions for Zach in this episode. As mentioned earlier, during the hiatus in between Season 6 and 7, new builders and riggers were hired on the animation team for Wild Kratts, many of them likely fans of the show themselves. And again, seeing as there's a 2 year gap between S6 and S7 in terms of development, there's bound to be some slight differences in rigs or models. Which is definitely why we get a lot of moments like this in the episode.

My two cents. I can definitely see why people would be caught off guard, and yeah, at such a high frequency it can get off-putting and requires some getting used to. But at the same time, I kinda dig it, just for the camp factor. It also somewhat reminds me of some of the facial expressions used in the pilot episode, (which has the stronger excuse of different animation + art-style to back it up), but yeah, definitely something that catches the eye.

Zach's hair is defnitely giving Kovu from Lion King 2 and I mean this in the worst. Possible. Way.

This entire scene can be seen as an allegory for two different types of parenting. Zach takes harsh, demanding approaches, speaking without listening for the sake of control, all out of a place of emotional unintelligence and immaturity, which alienates + drives away the child; Whilst Chris takes a more constructive, compassionate, understanding, yet still direct approach to get through to the child/chimp, allowing for a proper solution to the issue at hand. Yes, I'm pointlessly over analyzing even more but in an episode where communication is the main focus & moral of the episode as well as the resolution to the climax, I have to wonder if someone, whether it'd be the writers, animators, or even network execs did it on purpose. Because once again, you could takeaway a really good lesson for kids, and even adults with this interpretation in mind.

Oh yeah, once we get past that stuff, the climax of this episode is like, really fucking hilarious. And Zach getting mind-controlled by his own helmet is still a good dose of laser guided karma.

CONCLUSION:

Cons:

A few of the facial expressions can be a bit jarring. Again, Joss pointed it out perfectly how this episode could've been earlier in S7's development so these adjusted rigs probably can and will get better. I wouldn't even say it as a con, it's just some little thing of the episode that doesn't really lower my overall opinions.

This is a personal nitpick of mine; Not a critique. I think we could've seen more of the chimpanzees in action. I'm talking about face-offs with gorillas (which I think we might get an episode on that in the future, idk), hunting monkeys, leopard attacks! But I do get why it wasn't in the episode, it would've just bogged down time. Frankly, the only reason why I'm putting the cons first is because there is so much I have to say otherwise.

Pros:

The animation overall

The backgrounds

The Chimpanzee Power Suit

The Chimpanzees themselves.

The Background Music

Chris angst!!!!!!

The A plot and B plot perfectly complementing each other, which makes certain writing decisions that could've fallen short, work so much better as a result in execution!

Zach not being a dumb POS like he was in the last epiosde!

The chimpanzee designs!!!!

The very well-handled representation and depiction of sign-language and lessons of communications to its young audiences!

Final Ranking: 9.2/10. Our Blue and Green World and No Name Dream subverted expectations (mainly through Paisley's redemption and the S1 callbacks + the return of the Draco Power Suit). This is the first episode of Season 7 that exceeded my expectations. It is far better than how I thought it would be, and the experimental writing that this season has been hinged upon thus far hit the mark entirely when it came to this episode. So much so that it actually raised the already-high expectations I had for the new season. It is that. Fucking. Good. I'd easily call it a contender for one of the best episodes of the season, but again, we'll have to wait and see.

#wild kratts #pbs kids #kratt brothers #martin kratt #chris kratt #pbs kids go #2d kratt brothers #2d martin kratt #2d chris kratt #wild kratts spoilers #season 7 spoilers #s7 spoilers #wild kratts season 7 #chimpanzees

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graceylacey · 1 year ago

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is laios touden happy?

I keep coming back to the question that a lot of Dungeon Meshi (manga) fans seem to be asking: is Laios happy at the end?

My two cents on this is: well, yeah. He actually is.

He’s sacrificed a lot, it seems, far more than all of the other characters. He’s the driving force behind the reason they survived to save Falin - through eating the monsters. Only in the end, he’s not able to explore dungeons, be near monsters (RIP his special interest) or even eat without feeling 30% empty. It’s a real tough bargain.

But that’s the whole point. And that loss makes the story so much more impactful to me.

When talking with the Winged Lion at the end, Laios’ true desires appear. But we can see through Mithrun, Thistle and Marcille’s time as Dungeon Lords that The Winged Lion seems to expose really selfish wishes that, whilst having good intent, don’t end up benefiting others the way the Dungeon Lord wants.

Obvious as it may seem, Laios’ true main wish IS to save Falin over the course of his storyline. It’s what drives him despite having other, arguably impossible, desires that he longs for.

Even though Laios wishes to become a monster, this desire has never overtaken his motivation in any other part of the narrative.

Yes, he loses a lot. But he’s gained Falin.

It seems obvious, but that’s the key to why I think this is a good ending for him. It’s about sacrifice. Itsusumi is a great microcosm for this - you have to do things you don’t want to do, eat things you don’t want to eat. You also have to give up things you don’t want to in order to gain more.

The similarity between Dungeon Meshi and Fullmetal Alchemist (manga) is wonderful to me. Both stories explore the giving and taking of life and the goals of our lives.

At FMA’s conclusion, Ed sacrifices his ability to do alchemy; the reason the whole story started. It cost him and Al so much, but also helped them recover what they’d lost and literally save the world (are we starting to see the similarity?). Whenever I reread FMA, it’s sometimes hard watching Ed give up all his talent and everything he worked towards. What does he have without it? But for him, in that moment, it’s not such a difficult price to pay to get his brother back.

Maybe Laios is not aware of how much he would lose when he defeats the Winged Lion. But we do know he wants his friends and Falin to be saved, even if he dies. But that’s the thing! Both he and Falin are prepared to die to save their loved ones, but what about being prepared to LIVE to save their loved ones?

In our lives, we won’t often be sacrificing our lives for people, but we might be faced with a choice to give up things we love for people we love. Losing his life would be the easy way out (a great example of this is through Mithrun. It takes conscious effort to live. It seems so much simpler to die). Losing your dreams is hard, but that’s what it ended up costing for the safety of not just Laios’ friends but the world. He made that choice, now he must live with it. Even if he’s not fully happy at the end of the narrative, he still can be. You can be happy without having everything you desperately desire. That’s Dungeon Meshi.

Dungeon Meshi’s theme of neurodivergence fit into this really well. Personally, I think Laios is the perfect person to become King, possibly because he doesn’t think he should be. We know it’s not necessarily what he wants to do most. Heck, we know he doesn’t even like people that much and they don’t even seem to like him. But that’s what will make him the perfect candidate. Unlike others, he doesn’t have some high and mighty vision of becoming revolutionary at the end, nor does he have misconceptions about his abilities. He is genuinely righteous and humble, whilst having his flaws.

Laios knows what it’s like to feel different, outcasted by the world. But despite being awkward, strange, having weird interests and an inability to read social cues; people that once hated him ultimately end up having his back. There are bound to be others like him in his world (and ours), who don’t feel like they belong within humanity. People that would want a benevolent leader who genuinely cares and is enthused about things that don’t fit the norm because he doesn’t either.

It’s not his dream job but I believe he will eventually settle into it. We see this in the extra chapter where he willingly gives up his sword. That hit me hard. It felt a bit like a betrayal, like he was giving up who he was and everything he had worked for. But maybe it just shows that it’s okay that he couldn’t achieve all his desires. At least now Falin can achieve hers, and wasn’t that his fear for so long? That she would be lost and alone without him?

But now, because of Laios, Falin has the ability to choose her own path. She can choose make to leave as he once left her without the fear and guilt that Laois felt with his own departure. It shows both of them that it’s okay for them to take separate paths. They can grow and change and love each other from wherever they are. That protection, that survival and that connection between people is at the heart of Dungeon Meshi to me.

Both Laios and Falin choose to live. When Laios eats the Winged Lion’s appetite and Falin returns it’s down to their own decision. The choice to eat; the choice to experience life the way it was intended, with all its thorns. When they eat the monstrous parts of themselves they choose to be human, they choose the consequences of life, they choose to change and to go forwards. They are two sides of the same coin.

It seems only just that after all Laios has been through and after all we’ve seen him do, he should be allowed a perfect happy ending. But that’s just not Dungeon Meshi, is it?

There will always be sacrifices. Dungeon Meshi is not just about accepting life and death, but also accepting the possibility that you may not achieve everything you want, that things will not always go to plan but that you can always achieve other things despite this.

Laios has made his choice to become King. Just like the choice to eat, it’s another part of life and of moving forward. Think of all the good he could do. I think he can be happy. That’s life.

#dungeon meshi #laios touden #falin touden #delicious in dungeon #mithrun #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #first post

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grifonecoronato · 5 months ago

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Mae-ho Aniseya: Film Noir Protagonist

(Spoilers for The Acolyte)

As I've said in another post, Mae and Osha are binary opposites in their personalities and motivations.

Mae has a kind of "first child syndrome": a desire to exhibit perfection in the eyes of her mothers, so that they can shower her with praise. She loves being in her community of witches, learning and using the Thread, and indulging in the daily activities of life on Brendok.

She thrives when she is surrounded by her people, but Osha doesn't want the same things, which is something that confuses Mae deeply.

In this scene from Episode 3: Destiny, the two sisters as children talk about what they want:

MAE: "It isn't fair. I share everything with you, and you hide things from me or run off alone." OSHA: "I want to have my own things." MAE: "Why?" OSHA: "Because I don't want to do everything together all the time." MAE: "But why?" OSHA: "Because we're not the same." [...] OSHA: "Don't you wonder what else could be out there? Besides Brendok?" MAE: "No. Everything I need is here."

For Osha, her arc in The Acolyte has all the trappings of a dark romance. But from Mae's perspective, she's the heroine of her own Film Noir.

Film Noir Themes in The Acolyte

Beyond its aesthetics, Film Noir has three (3) major thematic characteristics with regard to its protagonists:

Its protagonist has an idyllic past where they were happy and life was good;

Their idyllic past is ripped away from them, often violently, in a single moment that they relive again and again in the present;

The inciting incident is an opportunity to reclaim their idyllic past, or if that's impossible, to get justice for what was lost... because to do nothing is to be haunted by it forever.

For example, we can look at the seasonal arc of Veronica Mars (2004): she's a happy high schooler and best friends with Lily Kane, then Lily is murdered and Veronica is ostracised from her former friends, and now she is seeking opportunities to solve her friend's murder, while being haunted by the memories of her.

Or consider the video game Max Payne (1998): he's a cop with a happy wife and daughter, then his wife and daughter are murdered by drug addicts high on Compound V, now he joins the DEA in an effort to find and destroy the source of Compound V, and finally stop feeling haunted by the memories of his family.

Mae's story is very similar: she was a happy kid living with a family and community that gave her everything she wanted, then the Jedi came and massacred everyone she loved, and now she's joined up with a powerful ally who will teach her to get bloody justice.

Mae's Fatal Flaw

Mae's biggest problem is that she's impulsive and frequently enters situations without a clear plan. However, this bullheadedness shows that she trusts herself to get out of any situation she finds herself in.

(Qimir once said to Osha "you should learn to trust yourself", but I doubt this is a lesson he had to teach Mae.)

Detractors often say that Mae's motivations don't make sense, or that she's "flip flopping" all the time. But this criticism -- like most criticisms from the fandom menace -- is unfair. Mae's motivations are very clear, and her shifting tactics are done as a response to new information that comes her way.

In Episodes 1 and 2, her goal is two-fold:

Hunt down the four guilty Jedi

Keep The Stranger satisfied in her progress as his apprentice

But in Episode 4 and 5, after she learns that her sister lives, her goal changes to "reunite with Osha." But when Osha refuses to listen to her, Mae's slightly modifies her goal, to "find a way to de-program Osha from her Jedi brainwashing, by exposing Sol."

Viewers that understand what drives Mae see that not flaky; she's adaptive.

The Fatal Lesson of Film Noir

The thing about Film Noir protagonists is that most of the time (not always, but most of the time), their quest for reclaiming their idyllic past is a fool's errand: they either sacrifice a big part of themselves in the attempt, or they learn to heal form the past, let go, and move on.

Mae opts for the former. When she finally succeeds in revealing that Sol has been lying for sixteen years, Osha murders him. Afterward, Osha bargains for Mae's life, which the Stranger accepts but only if he be permitted to erase her memories.

So Mae recaptures her idyllic past by being able to reconnect with her sister... only to lose her sense of self in the process. The quest consumed her.

But was it worth it?

#star wars #the acolyte #osha aniseya #mae aniseya #writing #storytelling #spoilers #film noir #character analysis #Grown up Star Wars

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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The Sin & The Penance

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, revenge motive, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he could not sleep – he wriggled in bed, checking from time to time whether she had perhaps called him back or written anything. Although he had tried to reach her at least ten times she did not answer and he was afraid to write her a message.

What if she went to the police with this?

Maybe that's what he deserved, he thought after a while with regret, staring blankly at the bright screen of his phone, wondering if he should try again despite the late hour.

As much as he tried to find some logical justification for what he had done, he couldn't explain what had really driven him.

Admittedly, at first he was guided only by anger and spite, but then these emotions disappeared, replaced by a hot, dark desire that filled his loins, completely overshadowing his cool judgement.

Something about her brightness, her lightness, her joy, made him long to lean over her like the dark sky, like night over the stars, and cover her with his blackness, his emptiness, consuming and devouring her.

He had never experienced such a disturbing and overpowering sensation before and was horrified that he was prone to such thoughts and such actions.

He had completely lost his mind because of her.

She had asked him to let her go, so why didn't he do so?

Alys had always been eager for his aggressive, violent games, he knew that, and he felt no remorse about what he was doing to her or where, but this little girl was terrified, trembling all over with fear, and yet all he could think about was how desperately he needed to feel her.

Perhaps subconsciously her cheerfulness, her attitude attracted him.

Maybe after years of sadness and mourning he wanted to feel at last something more than grief.

He covered his eyes with his hand, sighing heavily at that thought, feeling a squeeze in his throat and heart.

He only fell into a restless sleep in the morning with his phone lying next to his face, and was awakened two hours later by his alarm clock anyway, which he switched off with displeasure, tired, sad and embarrassed by what he had done.

He couldn't look Daeron in the face as they ate breakfast together. His little brother looked up at him from over his bowl of his favourite cereal with milk – he knew he was about to start asking questions about her.

"When will Esmeralda come here to sew our costumes?" He asked finally, stirring the milk with his spoon, looking at the chocolate balls that floated on its surface.

He pressed his lips together, not knowing how to explain to him how much he had fucked up.

What he had done to her.

"I don't know if she'll even show up here again." He replied truthfully, Daeron gave him a quick, horrified look.

"She promised me. She promised me we'd sew them together and go to the ball." He muttered, his eyes filling with tears again.

He decided he wouldn't be so cruel as to let him believe it was her fault, though part of his mind opted for that.

"I know, but I hurt her and I'm afraid she won't forgive me." He said lowly, swallowing hard, fiddling with his coffee cup, not daring to look at him, his heart pounding like mad.

"What do you mean? Did you hit her?" He asked in disbelief, and he clenched his eyes, realising that in his childish mind the greatest harm a man could do to a woman was that he could slap her.

He was silent for a while, not sure how or if I should explain it to him, whether it would be too much.

"In a way. And I did something else, much worse. Against her pleas. I could go to jail for that." He muttered, covering his face with his hand, feeling that even though he hadn't eaten anything he felt sick to his stomach.

"Why did you do that? She's so kind. What did she do to you? Did you get angry with her because of me?" He mumbled through his tears. He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought that, like any child, he was trying to justify the adult in his head, deciding that after all he was smarter and more experienced than him, so his behaviour must have been because he, his little brother, had done something wrong.

"No. No, it didn't and doesn't have anything to do with you. This is our adult business, but she has the right to be very angry with me and not speak to me. However, I'm completely sure she doesn't blame you." He replied quickly, biting his lower lip.

It wasn't until he spoke it aloud that it occurred to him how pathetic, inappropriate and cruel what he had done was, how afraid she must have been of him.

Was she telling herself she liked it so she could somehow survive it? She decided to go along with it so she wouldn't suffer?

"Do you think I can call her?" He asked in a quivering voice, and he looked at him with his heart pounding fast, recognising in the back of his mind that it was an excellent thought, that she might want to at least talk to him.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll give you her number, but call her from your phone. She's not answering from me."

He stared feeling the cold sweat on his back at his brother's reflection in the mirror driving towards the centre, seeing as he pressed the numbers written on the piece of paper on the keypad of his phone and lifted it to his ear – he heard the quiet beep of a call waiting.

He shuddered as someone answered, trying to focus on the road, complete panic in his mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hello? Hi, it's Daeron. Can you talk? No, he can't hear what you're saying, we're just driving to the centre." He muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling a constriction in his chest from which he found it hard to breathe, trying to erase from his mind the image of him slamming into her again and again with the brutal, sharp thrusts of his hips.

"He told me that he had done you wrong and that he had hurt you very badly. I'm very sorry he did that. I just wanted to ask when we're going to sew our costumes." He mumbled out quickly. He felt his eyebrows arch in shame and covered his mouth with his free hand, resting his elbow against his car door, looking ahead in disbelief.

How could he do this to her?

For a moment Daeron listened to what she was saying on the phone with concentration and he was dying inside, afraid that she would explain to him with details of what he had done to her. After a moment he nodded as if he understood what she meant, he saw his face lighten a little.

"Okay. Okay, I'll ask my brother if he agrees to it. Bye bye." He said softly and hung up, sighing heavily.

"And?" He asked looking at him in the mirror, stopping in the car park, feeling like he was about to go crazy. His brother looked down at his fingers.

"Esmeralda said that after your argument she can no longer come to our house, but that I can come to her at the University. She said that the building is modern and wheelchair accessible, there are special toilets, lifts and everything needed. We could do my homework in her room in the dormitory and then walk around the campus, sewing and painting." He said uncertainly, glancing at him pleadingly. He swallowed loudly, feeling disappointed and at the same time understanding of her decision and grunted softly, turning off the engine.

"Would you like that?" He asked him calmly, and his brother nodded quickly.

"Then so be it."

Despite his requests, Daeron refused to tell him which of the boys had called him Quasimodo.

He said that it didn't matter now.

He thought with regret that his younger brother had more maturity and calmness in himself than he did.

Sitting at work he was all nerves, he had not received any notification that anyone had filed a police report on him, so for some reason, perhaps out of fear, she had not done so.

He felt both relieved and ashamed at the same time, unable to look at himself, thinking that he was not only disgusting on the outside but also on the inside.

When Alys suggested that they go to the toilet for a while he simply agreed, feeling that he needed to lash out, to expel the grief, shame and desperation that seemed to fill his whole body.

He turned her body violently with her back to him, thinking with fatigue that he didn't want to look at her face. As he unzipped his trousers he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him, on her panties lowered halfway down her thighs, her entrance sticky with arousal. He closed his eyes and grasped his cock firmly in his hand, giving it a few aggressive, hard strokes.

As much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her sweet moans, about how wonderful she smelled, about how tight she was, about her body convulsing in his embrace.

He got instantly hard, wasted no time and surprised his lover, who moaned with delight at feeling how direct and exceptionally violent he was this day, his thrusts full of desperation and aggression, his groans low and throaty.

Something was wrong – her insides were different, her buttocks were different, her scent was different, too intense, her moans too deep, too sensual, not as innocent and surprised as hers.

He pressed his lips together feeling he couldn't focus or get as much pleasure out of it as he would have liked.

"− shut the fuck up −" He growled speeding up but it was to no avail – when he opened his eyes he saw a completely different woman in front of him. He slowed down, swallowing loudly, feeling that nothing would come of it.

"− fucking bastard − ah, don't stop − what happened? − did I do something wrong? −" She asked as he slid out of her and fastened his zipper in a quick motion, furious, disappointed, humiliated, distraught that he wanted her, this little girl, her moans, her scent, her touch, her gaze, her tight, weeping cunt, being able to spend whole nights with his face sunk between her thighs, begging her forgiveness, muttering between the flicks of his tongue that he would make it all up to her.

"− no − I'm sorry, it's my fault −" He said lowly, not wanting to lash out at her. She grunted quietly, surprised, putting her lacy underwear and trousers back on over her hips, fastening them with a quick, nimble movement.

"− you seem stressed − something wrong? − do you want to talk? −" She asked softly, and he felt a kind of gratitude that she hadn't laughed at him or judged him, that she had acted as if nothing had happened.

He decided, however, that he didn't want to share his thoughts with her.

"− no − forgive me − have a nice day −" He said calmly, opening the cubicle door and left the restroom, moving down the corridor in front of him, clenching his eyelids, brushing his short, slicked-back hair with a quick movement.

What had happened between them, what he had done to her had left a mark on more than just her.

He felt as if he had woken up from a lethargy after five years, everything around him was sharper and brighter, painfully clear.

The next morning, according to the arrangements made between her and Daeron, he was to turn up in the car park outside the University from where she was to pick up his brother.

He dreaded this meeting, dreaded what he would see in her face, disgust, regret and bitterness, all the way to the place he felt like stopping and throwing up.

He felt a shudder and a loud pounding of his heart when they arrived at the agreed spot and he noticed her, standing between the cars dressed in a fitted strapless dress with daisies on it, her beautiful hair the scent of which he could still smell in his nostrils loose, trainers on her feet.

He stopped, swallowing hard, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out, glancing at her – she stood at a safe distance from them and looked away, playing with the fingers of her hands, thoughtful and sad.

What he saw hurt him even more than if she had been staring at him with hatred.

He walked around the car and took out Daeron's wheelchair to which he helped him move from the back seat – his little brother beamed at the sight of her and began to move the wheels himself heading towards her. He saw with regret that she smiled warmly when she saw him, genuine joy on her face.

"Hi. High five!" She said to him cockily and their hands hit each other in the air, even though he was standing a few steps away she didn't give him a single glance.

"So, shall we go?" She asked encouragingly, and Daeron nodded.

He wanted to ask if she was sure he would be safe here, if she would remember to take him to lunch, if she would watch out for him, but he didn't dare, shame took his speech away.

He decided it would be better if he kept quiet and led them away with his gaze, then got into his car and drove to work.

He spent all day thinking about her, sitting over the case files recalling again and again her appearance, her pleasant figure, her warm face that beamed all over at the sight of his younger brother.

Why did she have to be like this?

Why did she have to be what he craved, the personification of his deepest, darkest needs, a ripe peach that someone had placed in front of him on a platter while he was starving?

When he arrived after work to pick up Daeron they both stood in the distance, said their goodbyes, and she turned away without even bestowing a single glance on him. He got out of the car, intent on helping his brother into the back seat.

"And how was it?" He asked lowly, feeling sadness and emptiness, anxiety and a strange tightening in his stomach.

"Great! We studied together in her room and then she showed me around the whole campus. We even looked in the classroom where the students were painting portraits and she told me a bit about how it was done. Everyone was very friendly." He said quickly, clearly excited and pleased. He swallowed hard, sighing softly as he folded his wheelchair and threw it back into the boot.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asked calmly, returning to the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt and turning on the engine.

"Yes, we had lunch in the university canteen. I could choose whatever I wanted." He said with satisfaction, a wide smile on his face.

He felt like asking him if she had mentioned anything about him, if she had anything to convey to him, but realised that there was nothing she might want to tell him.

She was doing this to keep her word to Daeron.

For a few weeks it seemed to him that he had locked himself in some kind of circle, looking forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays, days during which he would see her, albeit only from a distance, her figure bright and graceful.

He wondered with pain if she still had the bruises on her neck that his lips had left and swallowed loudly, feeling ashamed that his manhood reacted to that thought with a strong throbbing in his trousers.

He had suspected it before, but now he was absolutely sure.

He was fucking mad.

On the day the carnival ball was to be held, he was supposed to drive Daeron to the centre and pick him up after a few hours, but he decided that it wouldn't be worth going home for such a short time and he would just wait for them somewhere off to the side without bothering them.

As he pulled up in front of the building he swallowed heavily, seeing her from a distance, already dressed in her Esmeralda costume, her dark, loose hair tied with a violet scarf to form a headband, bells tied to her purple skirt, simple black ballerinas on her feet, round gold earrings in her ears, clanking bracelets on her wrists.

However, what drew his attention most was her white, buff long-sleeved shirt, tucked into the the sea-colored corset under her breasts that wonderfully emphasized her waist, it's sleeves lowered so that her shoulders were bare, it was slit down in the middle, showing the bare skin of her chest.

He swallowed loudly, looking away, feeling with horror that the very sight of it made him hard.

He grunted, helping Daeron out of the car and moved behind him, guessing that she wasn't going to help his brother dress after all, not wanting to invade his privacy.

"You really look like Esmeralda! So beautiful!" Exclaimed his younger brother, and she turned gracefully raising her hands with a clink of her bells and bracelets, showing off her costume in all its glory.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Where's my costume?!" He asked excitedly, and she picked up the large paper bag that stood next to her feet and smiled.

"Here. Let's go." She said lightly without looking at him, Daeron immediately pushed the wheels of his wheelchair and headed after her.

He moved behind them, feeling like an intruder, looking everywhere but at her, trying not to think about the sight of her partially exposed back.

She explained to him quickly what needed to be put on first and how – he was impressed that what she had made really did look like golden armour, but when he took out the individual pieces they turned out to be surprisingly light.

He locked himself and Daeron in one of the toilet cubicles, helping him to change, his brother looking extremely pleased.

"Are you two reconciled?" He asked, clearly thinking that since she was speaking to him again she had forgiven him. He swallowed loudly, not knowing how to explain to him that what he had done could not simply be taken back.

"I don't think so. But don't think about it. Hm?" He asked softly and he lowered his gaze, disappointed.

The sight of himself in the armour gave him confidence – it appeared that the whole thing had been designed so that he could flex his arms, elbows and wrists, the parts fitted together.

He thought with a pained grin that she had really made an effort.

"You look great. What a real knight you are. Come, it's time for you to dance a little with your beautiful Esmeralda." He said calmly, opening the door for him. He wheeled out into the corridor with a smile, his Esmeralda catching her cheeks with a wide smile of delight.

"My knight. Promise to protect me from the evil thugs!" She called out theatrically and glared at him – he swallowed loudly, turning his face away in shame, his younger brother assuring her that he would not let anyone hurt her.

Too late, he thought.

For some reason, he felt tears under his eyelids, his throat squeezed so tight he had trouble breathing.

He watched as they moved ahead into a large gymnasium where the lights were slightly dim, a disco ball was spinning on the ceiling, Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper was playing in the background, children and their caretakers spinning around, dressed as various characters and creatures.

Although many of the costumes looked quite impressive, he couldn't take his eyes off her – as she danced she sang the lyrics of the song with theatrical devotion as if she knew them by heart, her hair, bracelets and earrings glistened in the light of the multi-coloured lights, the sweat on the bare skin of her exposed arms glittered like little crystals.

He looked at her leaning with his back against the wall with his hands folded in front of him, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, covering up what was happening in his trousers.

He looked around the room and noticed a group of boys looking at her and Daeron. He frowned, wondering if they were the ones calling his brother Quasimodo.

He felt some kind of satisfaction at the thought that they were watching his brother dance with a pretty girl.

He really deserved her.

Such a good kid.

He left after a while, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket – even though he hadn't smoked in months and was trying to quit, he felt that what was happening was too much for him.

His hands trembled as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his lighter, taking a loud drag, closing his eyes, clenching his fingers on the base of his nose.

There was only chaos in his head.

"We need to talk." He heard her soft, trembling voice and turned around immediately, taking a few steps away, for some reason terrified by her sudden proximity.

He stared at her with his lips slightly parted, his body froze still, his heart pounding like mad, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

God, she was pregnant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I can no longer take care of Daeron. I just wanted to keep my promise and go to the ball with him. I think he's had enough disappointments in his life and I didn't want to provide him with any more." She said shivering all over, looking everywhere but at him – he felt like he was about to vomit from terror and grief.

What?

"But…if I'm the problem, we can arrange it so that I bring him in a while early and you pick him up from under the main entrance. I'll pay you more." He muttered, completely surprised by her words, not knowing what to say, not wanting to imagine how his little brother would react.

She shook her head quickly at his words, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrists in a nervous gesture.

"I can't. He reminds me of you. You two are similar in appearance." She mumbled and burst out crying, drawing in air loudly, covering her face with her hand in an attempt to calm herself. He looked at her in disbelief, feeling his voice get stuck in his throat.

"I haven't told anyone about what you did to me, because in his eyes you are his authority. I don't want to put him through unnecessary suffering, but I expect you to come up with something and find some convincing explanation as to why I can't continue to take care of him, Mr Prosecutor." She muttered regretfully wiping her cheeks swollen from tears, struggling to catch her breath, her plump lips parted, her eyebrows arched in despair.

He didn't know when he fell to his knees in front of her, when he clasped his hands around her waist, dropping his cigarette to the ground – he pressed his face to her womb, breathing loudly, feeling like he was going through some kind of panic, his lungs compressed, tears streaming down his face one after another, everything around him seemed to spin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − please, please, forgive me −" He mumbled hysterically what he had wanted to say to her for weeks – he heard her gasp loudly in shock, raising her hands in a gesture of helplessness, felt her place them on his shoulders trying to gently push him away, her stomach trembled under his face in sobs.

"− l-let me go − please, get up −" She whimpered pleadingly, but he shook his head – he thought he couldn't do it, he couldn't let her go.

"− I need you − even if for the rest of my life I will only look at you from afar −" He exhaled helplessly, sinking his nose into the material of her soft skirt, feeling her wonderful scent fill his lungs again, the warmth of her body that enveloped his face.

He didn't care that the people around them were looking at them like they were crazy, didn't care that perhaps they knew who he was.

"− I can't − I've tried − I've forgiven you, but I can't forget − you robbed me of my dignity −" She said in a raspy, broken voice – he felt himself whooping with his own tears, clasping his fingers at her back, his helpless mumbling ripped from his throat as if without the participation of his free will.

"− do what you want with me − fucking destroy me −"

"Aemond? What's going on?" He heard his brother's frightened voice and immediately rose from his knees, letting her go, both of them wiping their faces quickly, her cheeks pale and at the same time red from tears.

"We needed to talk. I'll be right back." She said quickly, forcing herself to smile – Daeron could sense the tension between them though, his lips tightened, his gaze wandering from him to her.

"Have you…reconciled yet? Has my brother apologised to you?" He asked uncertainly and she nodded and laughed lightly, something in her response made him clench his eyelids and swallow loudly – he covered his face with his hand, feeling that for some reason he couldn't stop crying.

You robbed me of my dignity.

"− y-yes − yes, we've already explained everything to each other, we simply got a little emotional − come on, let's go back inside −" She said softly and stroked his head – he smiled at her and glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?" He asked, but he shook his head, choking out that he would wait for them in the car.

He locked himself inside in the driver's seat and put his forehead on the steering wheel, feeling an overpowering emptiness and this awful, terrifying chill, as if someone had gouged out his insides with a spoon like the flesh of a fruit, leaving only a mere shell.

He thought that he had died five years ago, on the day of that accident.

He only existed so that Daeron could live on.

He shuddered, as if awakened from a deep, restless slumber, hearing a knock on the window on his side – he glanced there and saw Daeron waving at him and his Esmeralda, looking at him uncertainly, terrified of his condition, dark night all around them.

He got out of the car, massaging his forehead, feeling a terrible headache, not being sure for a moment where he actually was or what time it was – in an automatic reflex he opened the back door and helped Daeron get in, he could smell her scent beside him, her gaze fixed on him.

"Are you sure you should drive?" She asked hesitantly, and he swallowed loudly, thinking that since the day of that accident he had never gotten into a car that someone else was driving.

"Yes. Shall I drive you back?" He asked lowly, not looking at her, folding Daeron's small wheelchair.

"No need, thank you, I'll get an Uber." She muttered, his younger brother furrowed his brow, looking at her worriedly.

"We'll drive you back. It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone." He insisted.

She sighed quietly and nodded, walking around the car, sitting down next to Daeron in the back seat.

He got behind the wheel and started the engine, involuntarily glancing at her in the mirror – their gazes met, her eyes sad and tired, full of a regret she had every right to feel.

He drove ahead, trying to wake up and focus on the road, looking at the lights of the cars passing him and thought that maybe if he had killed them it would have been better for all of them.

He grunted loudly, tilting his head back, leaning against the backrest, recognising that he had completely lost his mind, that he was sinking into depression and hysteria, that he had reached the very bottom.

It seemed to him that she sensed that something was happening to him – he was catching her on the fact that she was glancing at him uncertainly, answering something to Daeron who was chatting her up, talking about his friends' costumes. She was just nodding, pretending to listen to him, her hands playing with the material of her skirt in a nervous gesture.

God, how he longed for her to drive with him to their house, to go with him to his bedroom, so that he could kneel before her and whisper how sorry he was, how he wished he could make it all right, to slide with his hands the material of her shirt and her skirt, so that his lips could kiss her whole beautiful, warm body with devotion and adoration, her feet, her calves, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her face, her….

"WATCH OUT!" He heard her scream of terror and pressed the brake suddenly, at the last moment stopping in front of a crossroads where he should have given way to those driving on his right and left – a man almost rammed into them and started honking at them, gesticulating aggressively, opening his window and shouting, asking what the fuck he was doing.

He looked quickly in the mirror, feeling as if he was deaf, his brother was crying loudly, snuggled into her, shaking with fear, her eyes wide, staring at him in horror.

"… are you all right?" He asked dully, feeling like his head was spinning – he saw her nod quickly, and then suddenly he went dark in front of his eyes, his head dropped limply and hit something hard.

He was awakened by someone's conversation. He felt someone touching him, something pleasantly warm enveloped him – his body was lying on something soft and comfortable, he thought he was lying on the sofa in his house.

"− overwork, dehydration, stress, trauma − anything could have caused this, ma'am − when can his sister come? −" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"− his younger brother called her, but she only managed to buy a plane ticket for tomorrow −" He heard her soft, warm voice – he shuddered and opened his eyes with difficulty, wanting to see her, to make sure nothing had happened to her.

He spotted her blurred silhouette in the warm light of the night lamp – she was sitting next to him on the sofa in his living room, still dressed in her Esmeralda costume.

"− can you stay here until she arrives? − are you a friend of the family? −" Asked the man who was apparently a paramedic, packing his suitcase and pulling off his latex gloves. She nodded.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm his little brother's carer −" She replied calmly, the man and she both glanced at him when they noticed he was awake.

"− how are you feeling, sir? − you had a panic attack and fainted − I have given you intravenous sedatives and strengthening medications, you should feel better soon −" The man with the black beard, surely a few years older than him, said to him.

He grunted quietly as he tried to raise himself up on his elbows, feeling everything around him swirl and lay back, giving up.

"− fuck − I'm dizzy −" He muttered, his stomach sore and clenched.

She rose from her seat as the doctors left Daeron's room, sighing heavily in relief when the woman explained that he had only been scared.

"Aemond!" He shouted when he saw that he was awake, riding up to him in his wheelchair, wiping his face red from tears.

"− I thought − I thought you had died − you weren't moving − w-we couldn't wake you up −" He mumbled, and he hugged his head to his chest, closing his eyes, stroking his soft hair with his large hand.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry − I've been working too much lately and I fainted −" He lied, swallowing loudly, his brother nodding his head in understanding, cuddling into him like a teddy bear. He kissed his temple, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He thought he needed to pull himself together.

"− Esmeralda said she would stay with us until Helaena arrives − now it's up to us to take care of you − lie here and don't worry about a thing −" He said in a voice hoarse from crying and patted his head – he felt a tightness in his throat at his words, his eyebrows arched in emotion, he smiled involuntarily, feeling his lower lip tremble.

"− then I'm in good hands −"

He watched wordlessly as the doctors and medics left their house, Daeron showing his Esmeralda where she could find clothes to change into – she appeared a few minutes later in his long black hoodie reaching halfway down her thighs, her legs wonderfully bare.

She bustled around the kitchen with Daeron, trying to make dinner – he couldn't get out of his awe at what a harmonious duo they were, his brother talking to her without shame or embarrassment.

If he had been wiser, if he had given her a chance then instead of humiliating her, maybe now they would be preparing dinner together.

He rose to sit down when she brought him tea and sandwiches, thanking her meekly. He sighed heavily feeling he wouldn't swallow anything and although the medications were starting to work, he felt like his head was going to burst.

She only returned to the living room after she had helped Daeron change into his pyjamas and put him to bed. She approached him hesitantly and sat down next to him on the couch, not looking at him but at the floor.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, covering her knees with the material of his sweatshirt.

He looked at her, silent for a long moment.

"Exactly as I should after what I did." He replied finally, not knowing how else he was supposed to call what he was feeling.

She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed in pain, regret and sadness in her gaze, but at the same time also some kind of concern.

He thought in disbelief that his fate mattered to her despite what he had done to her.

She lowered her gaze to her knees, fiddling with the material that covered her thighs in a nervous gesture.

"He needs you composed. Emotionally stable." She said sadly, her lips trembling.

He stared at her face unable to take his eyes off her, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch her, dreaming of her hugging him and locking him in her arms.

"I know." He said dryly, understanding exactly what she meant.

He couldn't be unpredictable, distracted while driving in the car, at work and on a daily basis.

Could not be distracted by her.

"Why did you do it? Then when I wanted to leave?" She finally asked in a voice quivering with grief, and looked at him, the depth of disappointment, sadness and emptiness in her bright eyes.

He licked his lower lip dry with stress and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pounding like mad as he stared straight into her face.

"Because I wanted to feel you. You were so sweet and soft. You were melting in my hands. I couldn't stop." He muttered at last, feeling with shame how pathetic that explanation was, thinking he was just a fucking pervert.

He drew in a loud breath as she slid the blanket off him and sat on top of him, pressing her buttocks against what was under his trousers – he wanted to grab her hips, feeling a rush of adrenaline from disbelief, but she grabbed his wrists.

"No. Don't touch me. If I feel your hands on my body I'll start screaming. I will tell Daeron everything you did to me and that you tried to do it a second time." She said with a seriousness from which his breath caught in his throat; he immediately placed his hands as before on either side of his body, watching in disbelief as her tiny fingers undid his button and zipper, his cock immediately swelled and began to pulsate, a loud shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

God, was she really going to do this?

As if in response to his thoughts, she spread the material of his trousers to the side and slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection, twitching with lust, the head of it pink and glistening. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, swallowing loudly when he felt her grab it's base with a gentle flick of her hand and direct its thick tip between her warm thighs.

She had no underwear underneath.

She lowered herself onto him a tiny bit, barely sinking the fat head of his cock inside her, teasing him with the lewd click of her moisture – the sight of him stretching her slit and how wet she was turned him on so much that a low, helpless groan escaped his throat.

"− be quiet or I'll stop − do you want me to stop? − you didn't give me that choice, but I'm not that cruel −" She said with regret as he shook his head quickly, feeling how desperate he was to feel her again.

"− please −" He heard his own pathetic voice, not believing he was allowing it, but he no longer cared what she would do to him, he wanted to fuck her in any way she would let him.

He felt some relief at the thought of being humiliated, he wanted her to do to him what he did to her even though he knew she didn't have his awful nature.

"− what are you asking me to do? −" She whispered softly, almost tenderly, as if her superiority over him was giving her back what he had taken from her, her power over her own body, over what was happening to her.

"− use me −" He breathed out in a voice hoarse with emotion, saw that something had changed in her gaze, her lips parted in a shuddering breath.

He clasped his hands on the fabric of the couch and leaned his head back, gasping out loud as he felt her let him all the way inside her, his hard, fat cock throbbed aggressively with desire squeezed wonderfully by her hot, tight walls – he knew he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment and that she felt it too.

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him, but not moving, waiting for his manhood to stop twitching inside her – her pretty, flushed face surrounded by her dark, shiny curls, her bright eyes fixed on him, her plump, swollen lips parted in a quickened breath.

"− use you? − mr. prosecutor wants to make me feel good? −" She asked in a whisper, her voice trembling with fear and arousal, as if she herself was shocked by what she was doing and by the fact that he was listening to her, by the way he was responding to her, by how much he desired her.

"− yes −" He mumbled out and closed his eyes with a low moan, feeling that with flick of her hips she slowly slid his cock out of her only to push it back in with a loud click of her wetness.

"− why? −" She exhaled, moving on top of him painfully slowly, her tight fleshy muscles giving him a wonderful squeeze each time she forced him back between her plushy folds, they both began to breathe louder and louder. He bent his legs at the knees, involuntarily tentatively responding to her thrusts with deep stabs of his hips.

"− God, don't you see that I crave you? −" He groaned low, with the last of his strong will restraining himself from tightening his hands on her buttocks and forcing her to move faster.

There was something wonderful about this slow agony, in the way she teased him, rubbing herself at the spot from which she felt the greatest pleasure, a sweet moan escaped her lips at his words.

"− are you always like this when you see me? − like you are now between my thighs? −" She mumbled in embarrassment, speeding up, their naked bodies began to slam against each other with splats of her moisture – he dared to buck into her harder, they both began to pant loudly, looking at each other with their mouths wide open, her lips puffy with desire.

"− of course − I jerk off every day thinking about you − fuck −" He muttered with difficulty, feeling the tickle and heat in his lower abdomen, his cock swelling with desire so much that he felt like it was about to explode if he didn't come inside her, their naked bodies slamming against each other.

He delighted in the sight of her throwing her head back at his words, her hot core pulsed hard around him, sucking him inside, her fingers clenched on the material of his sweatshirt, her buttocks slapping loudly against his thighs, soaking him all over.

"− touch me − touch me −" She cried out and he caught her quickly, one of his hands weaved into her hair and pressed her face against his, their lips joined in an aggressive, thirsty, sticky kiss, the fingers of his other hand clenched on the soft, firm skin of her ass.

They moaned loudly into each other's mouths as he began to pound into her like mad, almost not sliding out of her anymore – he embraced her and hugged her body to his, gripping her around the waist, her hands stroking his cheeks, his neck, his scar, his cock thrusting into her weeping folds twitching and throbbing like crazy.

"− fuck − fuck, baby, m gonna cum −" He babbled between the flicks of their lips, tongues and teeth. She gasped and came at his words with a loud mewl of surprise – he felt her moisture run down her thighs onto his lower abdomen, her muscles began to clench on him greedily, squeezing him wonderfully. He threw his head back and moaned in relief when he felt his warm seed spurt out inside her.

"− oh God − oh my fucking God −" He mumbled, experiencing such an intense orgasm for the first time in his life – for a moment he went dark before his eyes, he could see or hear nothing, there was only the wonderful hot pleasure spilling over his whole body, his hands clenched on her hot skin.

He hugged her close, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck, covering their bodies with his blanket, not wanting Daeron to accidentally find them in this position, while having no intention of changing it.

He felt wonderful.

He stroked her soft hair placing tender, wet kisses on her temple, his other hand trailing reassuringly down her back, feeling that she was trembling all over with emotion, unsure as he was of what had really happened between them.

"− sleep here, little one − I won't touch you against your will − I promise −" He whispered, but her silence answered him – she breathed loudly along with him, lying still, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

"− I know −" She replied quietly after a moment, rising on her shoulders, sliding him out of her with a soft motion of her hips, his hands clasped helplessly on her thighs.

"− please, don't go −" He muttered, looking at her in horror, his heart pounding like mad.

Please, let me go.

"− I'm sorry −"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please, let me go.

She rose from the couch, trembling all over, covering her thighs with his sweatshirt, his semen mingled with her moisture ran down her naked skin.

"− I'll sleep in the free room next to Daeron's bedroom − I'll lock myself in − don't come to me and don't ever touch me again − we're even −" She said in a calm, quivering voice full of sorrow, sadness and emptiness.

He wanted to touch her fingers but she turned and left the living room, hiding her face in her hand as if she was crying again, disappearing down the corridor.

He lay looking dully at the spot where she had stood just a moment before, feeling a squeeze in his throat – with trembling hands he slipped his boxers back on and zipped up his trousers, feeling tears of disappointment running down the sides of his face onto the pillow under his head.

We're even.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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