#disclaimer: author is no longer religious | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taschamonnii · 1 year ago

Text

More Than A Woman - Part 5 (Lay All Your Love On Me)

You x Shirley Carter (70s-80s Southern Housewife Original Character - Elizabeth Olsen)

Find All Parts Here

*Disclaimer/Summary: This completely Fictional Character is based on the way Lizzie plays old-fashioned Housewives. (Some inspo is taken from WandaVision, I Saw The Light, and Love & Death) This character is in no way a portrayal of any real-life people. Audrey Williams and Candy Montgomery were real people that Lizzie has portrayed for entertainment purposes in tv & film. This story is not about them. I just want to see Lizzie play a 70s-80s housewife that is secretly Gay and stuck in a religious small-town in the South. Since she has never done that but has played the part of perfect housewife I decided to make my own character.* I will be using edited pictures from the characters she has played and unaltered gifs since it's way too hard to edit those.*

Character Description since this is a made up character: mid length-wavy-dark brown hair (think more the length in I saw the Light like it falls to her collar bones but the deep dark brown from goth Wanda era, Emerald Green eyes, Wears form fitting dresses and high waisted pants and skirts.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Angst/Smut/Fluff

TW: SMUT, 18+, Cheating on husbands to be GAY together,

I am so obsessed with Lizzie playing housewife that I made a playlist! More Than A Woman

AN: This is part Five to this Original Series

Word Count: 1,506

Imagine This:

“Maybe someday you could. We won’t be here forever. Theo's company estimates maybe a few years.”

Her face drops and you can see the sadness in her eyes. “Oh.”

Her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled. “No. No. Don’t cry.”

You reached for her cheek and she sat up quickly. “What the fuck Y/N?”

Angry tears raced down her cheeks and you rushed to sit up. You went to reach for her again but she swatted your hand away. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Shirley, I was hoping to talk to you about this differently.”

“We just. You just said you love me! We just made love Y/N! Now you are telling me what exactly?"

"I'm telling you this because I love you. Can't you see. I want you. We could be together easier in Cali."

"I can't just leave my family, Y/N. You know that."

"No, your family would come too. I want you and your girls and there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about but I think now might be a bad time.."

She raised her voice but it was still broken. "A bad time? Something worse than you moving away!?!"

"Fuck!" You run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath. "Shirley, I don't plan on leaving you unless you want me to."

She glanced away and you could see she didn't believe you. "Huh it sounds like you are leaving me."

"I'm not."

"Then explain. What is the worst thing?"

"Well, I am not sure it's worse than you thinking I'm leaving but I just well it's complicated. I don't know how you will react."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Just say it."

"I think well Theo and I, we think John is, mmm might be, gay."

"What?"

"It's just he cares about his appearance a lot. He, according to Theo, acts a bit shy in the bathroom and we just see it. We could be wrong. You know him best. Does he shower for longer than 10 minutes? Does he prefer fucking you from behind? Does he want to fuck you all the time or is it more special occasions?"

She looked shocked. "You and Theo think John is gay?"

"Yes and Theo has a bit of a thing for John if I'm being honest."

"Oh my God. John has commented on Theo's appearance a few times. He actually wants us all to be friends. What the fuck? John loves me though."

"I know he does that is obvious to everyone but does he lust after you? Like how I lust after you. You know lots of staring and eye contact especially in bed. If he isn't looking at you in awe every time he fucks you then he might be picturing someone else. Have you ever pictured someone else while you have sex with him?"

She bit her bottom lip and ran her hands through her hair then ran her hands over her face. "Oh God, is my entire life a lie?"

"No, it's just different than you thought. You love John but it's different than how you love me right?"

She nodded yes and took a deep breath. You gave her a reassuring smile. "This could be really good."

"Good."

You reach out and take her hand and she finally lets you. "Good."

She sighed and brought her free hand up to squeeze the bridge of her nose. "What am I supposed to do now Y/N?"

"Well we take things one step at a time. Do you think that John would ever have an affair if Theo proposed one?"

She twisted her lips in thoughts. "Well if you had asked before we had this little conversation I would have said absolutely not but now I don't know how well I really know my husband."

You nod and squeeze her hand "okay take a deep breath this is a lot."

"You think?"

You pull her closer and wrap your hands around her. "I think maybe we should take a step back and relax."

You kissed the side of her head and pulled her face into view so you could kiss her forehead and cheeks and chin. You capture her lips in a passionate kiss. She kisses back quickly deepening the kiss. She sucks on your bottom lip and moans into the kiss. She pushes you back and straddles your lap. Her hand travels down between the two of you. Her long fingers quickly find purchase and you throw your head back in a moan. You move your hand between you and quickly match her movements.

She drops her head on your shoulder as her breaths heat your skin. Your movements sync as your hips chase the pleasure. She bites your neck and sucks on your skin. You dig your blunt nails into her shoulder with your free hand.

You lose yourself in the feeling of having her inside you while being inside her. Everything feels heightened. Your bodies tighten even as you resist falling into pleasure. You want this to last and you can feel she does too. Your bodies tremble and stutter and your hips jerk against each other. You both tumble over the edge blissed out. Her full weight collapses on top of you as she breathes out. You both hold onto each other tightly like letting go would change everything.

Things feel different and you both know that nothing will ever be the same. You breathe her in trying to memorize her sweet scent. The way her weight feels on top of you, the way she holds you tighter as she comes down from her high. You hold her tighter and kiss the skin of her shoulder and neck trying to ground yourself in her.

Time passes and you are truly unsure how long you both lay there holding each other. Eventually your breaths even and both of your grips on each other lighten gradually. She lifts her head up and kisses your lips softly before rolling slightly off of you. She sighed out. “I don’t want to leave this moment, I don't want to face reality.”

You let out a deep sigh. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“What do we do now?”

“We have time to take things slowly. Would you be okay if Theo tested the water with John? Or have you heard of swinging? We could work on developing the friendship and then propose swinging.”

“I am not sure if it brings me comfort or concern that you have really thought about all this.”

She laughs nervously and you grab and squeeze her hand. “I know it’s a lot.”

She blows out a dramatic breath letting her lips vibrate and make a cute sound. “No kidding. Uh I guess it would be good to improve our friendship as couples Theo can do whatever he wants. I have heard of swinging but it is not something that happens around here. I read about it in a magazine and was too scared to talk to John about it. I don’t know how he would react to such a thing.”

You nod and smile. “Let's just start with game nights and going on double dates things like that.”

She agreed with the nod of her head.

>>>>

Time seemed to be on your side as things moved smoothly. Soon it became routine to see Shirley for your little afternoon delights then again at church events and what was quickly becoming more fun and easy going game nights and weekend hangouts with the Carter family. You and Theo developed a strong bond with the girls and John was easily falling into a best friendship with Theo. Flirtatious glances and fun nights as a group felt right. Things sort of fell into place.

It didn’t take long for Theo to break through and truly connect with John. Theo helped John come into himself and see the truth. Theo even helped settle John when he told him about the love affair that Shirley had with you. Now that he knows things have gotten easier and far more fun. You can mark Shirley's delicate skin without worry and you do. You mark every inch possible. You bite and suck your marks all over her. Beyond that it has allowed for her to spend the night with you and even for you to spend the night at her house. The domesticity you craved with her is finally yours. Well mostly. There are plans for buying a house as a group in Cali so it can be more full time.

There is love and happiness among you all and it is the most wonderful thing you have ever been a part of. You have longed for something like this your entire life and you finally have it. The future looks bright and you can’t wait to return to Cali and live free and easy and fall asleep with Shirley in your arms every night and wake her every morning.

A/N: Sorry this is so short but it is wrapping up. There will be one more, probably short as well, part that shows them all in the future. I hope you all have enjoyed this silly little story that was solely inspired by the way Elizabeth Olsen plays these types of 70s & 80s Housewife characters. I have had a hard time figuring out how to end this but I knew when I started I wanted it to be light and fun. We need more movies and shows where Lizzie’s character is not a sad girl even though I love all her sad girl characters.

#Elizabeth Olsen #Female Reader X Shirley Carter #70s-80s Southern HouseWife #cheating on husbands to be gay but the husbands are also Gay lol #original series #made up original character based on the way Elizabeth Olsen plays old fashioned Housewives #smut #angst #wlw #lesbian #playlist for elizabeth olsen living her best disco life and that are vibes for the show and for dancing #inspo taken from WandaVision and I Saw The Light and Love & Death

53 notes · View notes

inawordaverage · 2 years ago

Text

disclaimer: OPINION, FAMILY ISSUES, RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION. I don't intend to put forth any hate speech towards any belief in this post. It is simply an expression of how I perceive my past experiences.

This one's gonna be VERY long.. and there's a good chance it's not going to be seen by many.. but this is an okay spot to get it off my chest, I suppose. Thank you for listening.

To put it simply, I feel like I will be behind in life until the day I die. And no, it's not because I've decided not to go to college. It's because I have missed many of the world's major turning points.

A small example: you can ask me if I've seen a movie, regardless of its popularity, and nine times out of ten the answer will be no. A larger example: you can ask me what happened during Obama's presidency (the entirety of which I was alive for, of course), and I can tell you nothing except that his name was spoken with venom throughout our church.

The history of the world, and of internet itself - a concept that has been familiar to most of my peers for most of my life - is still something that I will never fully grasp, because I was not allowed to participate in it at all.

My life, until I was sixteen years old, mainly consisted of three things: school, church, and home. Anything outside of those three things - or anyone who had access to the rest of the world - was disallowed from my carefully curated bubble.

I was brought up to be obedient and quiet. Don't speak until you are spoken to. Don't question authority, ever. Do, however, make sure you ask permission before doing anything, to make sure you are supervised. And, most importantly, worship God above all else. Or else.

My priorities were as follows:

- Honor God

- Honor others

- Honor myself

As I grew older, I allowed myself to be trampled, abused, mocked, degraded, and assaulted - all in the name of honoring God and others above myself, disregarding my own safety. And nothing was done to stop that impression from being made, as long as my behavior was favorable enough.

To make matters worse, I hardly knew what privacy was. My personal space and private belongings were regularly invaded, and I let it happen because I didn't know any better.

A mantra that was repeated throughout our house was, "If you have to hide anything, it must be something wrong." Nothing was sacred. Personal journals were opened, excessive time alone was scrutinized and brought into question, earbuds were confiscated.

My eyes hungrily latched onto any screen I could find, just to get a glimpse of the world, just to satisfy my curiosity. Each time it happened, I was caught and reprimanded. I felt guilty for trying to see past the bubble, because I was only supposed to know that the bubble was safe, and the rest of the world was evil.

I feared the world. Fear was instilled into my heart from a young age. The fear of strangers, sin, death, and even God himself. Eternal punishment, separate from our almighty creator, was the worst possible pain imaginable, and we were to thank him for sparing us from that punishment.

We were taught that Jesus endured the pain of hell so that we could be saved from having to go through it. We were taught to be contrite, desperate, lost, and confused souls that needed to be washed clean and purified of anything imperfect.

From inside the bubble, I was convinced that being saved from eternal torment was the greatest gift of all, the purest expression of love. But with my first step outside of the bubble, I learned that salvation was not my motivator for following God. It was fear.

Now that I am no longer practicing religion, I experience two feelings at once when thinking of death. These two feelings are very familiar, but that does not make them any less traumatic.

The first feeling is terror. Yes, because of what I have been taught my whole life, I am afraid of death. Will I be punished forever for breaking free of the bubble I was raised in? Will I suffer eternal agony for choosing to abandon God and the church?

The second feeling is intrigue. I must know what happens after death. I'm morbidly curious. Literally. I have had visions of the emptiness of nonexistence, and I have experienced the blind, white-hot pain of what can only be described as hell... but I NEED to know what really happens.

As I am of the firm belief that perfection will always be impossible, I am only left with two options that I constantly mull over. My thoughts are stuck going back and forth between either constant agony, or nothingness. No one has come back from the dead to tell us which it is. So the only way to find out, is to experience it..

I'm not willing to leave this life behind. I've only just begun my journey. Although I have missed out on so much, I am now free to learn, and I will never stop learning. I am learning to love myself for who I truly am, discovering and accepting my own identity while welcoming others in with open arms.

To me, it is such a refreshing change. The worst isn't over yet, but I have had many tumultuous seasons so far, and if I were to never learn from them, I would not be where I am today.

I'll leave with a quote from a message I sent to one of my friends, who had asked me why I live my life the way I do now.

"...I will not let my fear of eternal torment lead me into blindly accepting whatever salvation is thrown at me. Not anymore. I'm living my life, surrounded by good, supportive people, and I don't want to change that. ... The end of the world is near. Before I know it, I'll blink, and everything I know and love will be gone. I'll die, and not have faith in where I'm going to end up. But I feel like that is the truth in the Bible that comes closest to impacting my view of this harsh reality."

#tw: long post #religion #family #life story #am i going to regret this?#never #this is me #what can i say #its realistic

7 notes · View notes

theplantbish · 1 year ago

Note

HIII! Its your Antti anon!! I'm just listening to one of my fav songs "Hiton Pelkuri", and I properly looked at the album art for En Kommentoi for the first time. The combination of abrahamic religious symbols is cool. I know he has a particular interest in religion and his album Valittu Kanssa is of full of intelligent allusions and metaphors. But, not being a Finnish speaker, I sadly have no clue how to interpret the lyrics. What do you think is Antti's attitude towards religion and Christianity?

My favorite Anon, hi!!

Short answer: his attitude towards religion is good, level headed and he is religious.

Longer answer under the cut 😊

Antti has talked about religion quite a lot, especially around the time when Valittu kansa album came out.

His family isn't really religious, but when he was a kid he had friends who were very religious, and that got him interested in it. In one interview he said that he spent a lot of time reading the bible when he was like 7-10 years old.

As an adult he's read about other religions, too, and non-religious history texts about Jesus (or at least tried to find something, idk if those kinds of texts exist).

He's said that he is religious but he also likes to question a lot of the things Christianity teaches. He says that religion is like a journey to him. He prays every night, sometimes he feels like he's talking to God and other times he doesn't really know who he's talking to.

The song Valittu Kansa criticizes and in a way calls out people on their hypocrisy of how they follow religion, institutions and authorities blindly. The album tells about his own experience with religion, how sometimes it's guiding him and other times he feels very lost with it.

A lot of religious people in this country got very upset about the album, without really even listening to any of the songs. They just heard religion + pop music and immediately assumed that it's blasphemy when it's not. I actually saw a video of a priest reacting to the song Valittu Kansa and he was like "oh I totally understand what he's saying, great song!" Which makes those casual, barely ever goes to church but throws a tantrum about the album -people's reaction pretty funny to me ngl.

In a nutshell: his attitude towards all religions is positive, he himself is a Christian and he's very interested in religions in general.

I feel like I have to mention this as a disclaimer of sorts: I'm not religious at all myself, never have been, aaand the album is brilliant imo.

#answers #antti tuisku #cw religion #tw religion #I hope I was able to explain everything well and got my facts right 😬#i did read a couple of articles where he talked about this before answering this

2 notes · View notes

therapy-gems · 2 years ago

Text

As a (neurodivergent) psychotherapist, I jump at any opportunity to recommend books to friends, clients, and whoever will humour me.

Two books that stamped by my clinical approval include How to be an Adult in Relationships and Triggers by David Richo, aclaimed psychotherapist. Both books are easy reads, contain exercises, and integrate non-religious and religious spirituality (e.g. mindfulness).

How to be an Adult in Relationships is a must read for anyone hoping to create a healthy relationship (most of us).

Triggers is a must read for anyone hoping to improve their emotional regulation, increase life satisfaction, and free themselves from trauma patterns.

However, important disclaimer: How to be an Adult in Relationships was published in 2002, and let's just say... it shows. The default exemplar relationship is heteronormative (sometimes spit out your drink, yikes-level). Know that while this is a life-changing book, it's never the reader's responsibility to forgive or make excuses for an author.

Today, David Richo's work is more socially responsible and anti-oppressive, which is evident in Triggers, as well as his professional activities... but at the end of the day, keep in mind that he's still another articulate white dude bestowing us with his wisdom... wisdom that's been around much longer than 2002.

Book recs for different kinds of healing 💕

Best for people battling trauma: The Body Keeps the Score

Best for anxiety: Hope and Help for Your Nerves: End Anxiety Now

Best for recovery from addiction: The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober

Best for women survivors of relationship abuse: Healing the Trauma of Abuse: A Women’s Workbook

Best for understanding a therapist’s perspective: Maybe You Should Talk to Someone

Best for battling burnout: Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle

Best for healing from emotional pain: Emotional First Aid

Best for understanding family trauma: It Didn’t Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle

Best for navigating relationships: Attached: The New Science of Adult Attachment and How It Can Help You Find—and Keep—Love

Best for highly sensitive people: The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You

Best for practicing self-love: Loving Bravely

Best for finding order in life: 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Sometimes picking up a book is the best thing we can do 📚

#book recs #healing #mental health #self love #positivity #self care #therapists of tumblr #tumblr therapy #mental health awareness #trauma healing #trauma recovery #wellness #bookstan #bookshelf #nonfiction #book reviews

861 notes · View notes

artist-owl · 3 years ago

Text

He Doesn’t Look a Thing Like Jesus

@moceit-appreciation-week for Moceit Week day 6: Magic/Role Reversal

word count: 1522

title from “When You Were Young” by The Killers

summary: why is it that angels my fall, yet demons never rise?

Janus wasn’t quite sure what he was anymore.

There wasn’t really a word for the liminal space between an angelic being and a demonic one – well, actually there was, but ‘fallen angel’ wasn’t quite descriptive enough for his purpose; for one, he hadn’t been an angel, he’d been a principality, thankyouverymuch. For another, he hadn’t so much fallen as been slam-dunked out of Heaven like the pearly gates were the net and Earth was the cold and unforgiving wooden floor, ‘fallen’ implied that he’d done it to himself.

In any case, he wasn’t yet a demon, wouldn’t become one unless he burned away the last remaining dregs of his divine power and went to Hell. Not that he had any intention of doing so of course, no matter how far he’d been demoted – it was a ghastly place from what he’d heard. But he wasn’t a principality anymore, that was clear as the scars on his back. Damn it all, is this really where asking questions could get you?

Well fuck that noise, Janus didn’t want any part of that heavenly nonsense anymore.

What exactly he was didn’t matter much, really. Not nearly as much as what he could do.

Which still wasn’t much – he hadn’t lost all of his powers, but even the few that he still had were weakened – but it was just enough to keep his mortal (or at least humanoid) form alive and out of prison. The humans really had made just suddenly appearing somewhere so much more complicated over the past century or so, hadn’t they?

Nothing that he couldn’t handle, of course.

“And this will be your desk,” said his new boss – Angela de la Cruz, she’d told him, because his Dad really must’ve had a sense of humor when They’d been coming up with Their plan for Everything. “You’ll be sharing it with our clerk, Patton Smith, but don’t worry, there’s plenty of room.

“Thank you, Angela,” Janus said smoothly, setting down his small box of supplies on the mentioned desk. It was, in fact, large enough for two people to work on; it was a square table, half of it stacked with papers and folders and a laptop sitting closed towards the center, a few pens scattered haphazardly through the thing, and a cup of coffee that seemed to have already gone cold. Janus had no doubt that within the week his side of the desk would look similar, if a little neater.

“Not a problem! I’ll let you get settled in, you can come to my office in a few minutes to receive your first assignments.”

“That sounds wonderful, thanks.” Janus flashed her a practiced smile, and she sent him one back that looked just a bit more genuine, then turned and left for her office.

Janus turned and surveyed the desk for a moment, then started unpacking. He took out his laptop, its cord, the small box of black ink pens, and a pad of paper.

Right. Unpacking done.

He wasn’t entirely certain how this job would go, but he wasn’t too worried about it. Surely working in human law couldn’t be that different from his administrative duties Upstairs.

He was debating whether or not he should take the time to figure out how to get his computer started up, when he heard a door open and he glanced up at the man who’d stepped into the room.

The little snip of divinity still in him recoiled, and Janus barely stopped himself from flinching. The man stopped in his tracks, staring at Janus.

No, not a man.

Janus’s upper lip curled back. “Hello, demon.”

It seemed to shake the being out of his stupor. “Ah, hello,” he said, smiling politely. “Should I refer to you as the same?”

“No.”

The demon tilted his head, examining Janus. His round glasses magnified his eyes, making them look bigger behind the gold-colored wire frames. After a moment of scrutiny, he seemed to relax. “Alright then!” He sounded chipper. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Patton.”

“...Janus.”

“How are you doing, Janus? You must be the new secretary.”

“...Yes.” Janus stared as the demon sat down, slowly doing the same. “I’d ask what a demon is doing working at a human law office,” he said slowly, “but given how few lawyers I ran into Up There, I can make a guess.”

The demon – Patton, he supposed, may as well start calling it that before he slipped up and called the being a demon to his face in front of their human coworkers – just laughed, polite and practiced. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Sure.”

“I’m working up to animal rights law,” Patton said cheerfully.

Which.

What?

“Not the division I’d expect one of your sort to choose to enter,” Janus said. “What…you looking for the next soul to corrupt?”

“Oh, I don’t do that sort of thing,” Patton said breezily, waving his hand.

“You’re a demon.”

“And you’re not an angel,” Patton said, poisonously sweet. Janus didn’t flinch, but something must have shown in his expression because Patton’s face shuttered for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, in the most genuine tone he’d used so far. “That was cruel of me, my apologies.”

Janus leaned back, suddenly uncertain. What in the…

“What are you?”

Patton giggled. It was eerie. “Oh, no no, you had me pegged from the start. It’s just…well…” his eyes went a little soft as they looked into the middle distance over Janus’s shoulder. “You’ve fallen, yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Patton met his eyes then, and the metaphorical fire in them didn’t look so much hellish as determined. “I want to rise.”

Janus made a noise halfway between a laugh and a choke. “You want…to rise?” he said, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Yep!” Patton was smiling sunnily, like he hadn’t said the most insane thing that Janus had ever heard.

“That – that’s impossible.”

“Just because no one’s done it yet doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.”

“No, I mean –” Janus’s voice trailed off as he suddenly wondered…was it impossible? He’d never thought to ask. It wasn’t one of the questions that got him demoted, though now that he thought about it, if he had asked it, he probably would have been punted down to Earth way sooner than this.

Patton shrugged. “Humans can do it. Why not me?”

“Because you’re innately evil?” Janus said, just a tiny bit hysterically.

“Well some people say that humans are too, and they still go Up There.”

“Humans are born neutral, there’s hundreds of different things to influence them and thousands of choices for them to make. We don’t have that choice.”

“But you fell,” Patton said simply, like that made his case.

“All part of the Almighty’s plan, I’m sure,” Janus said, proud of how little bitterness he’d managed to let seep into his tone. “But I’ve never heard of Them raising one of you up.”

Patton shrugged again. “Like I said, just because no one’s done it yet doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.”

Janus scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why do you even want to rise?”

“Because I want to help people,” Patton said immediately. “I want to do good. I want to be good.”

“And you can’t do that from where you are?”

“Well, I’m doing my best now, aren’t I?” Patton said, smiling. “That’s how I’m going to do it, do so much good that They’ll let me Up. But imagine how much more good I could do if I was Up There! Directly serving the Almighty’s plan, not just…doing the little that someone of my place can do for good.”

Janus chewed his lip for a moment. “I…don’t think that’s how that works.”

Patton’s smile was serene. “I have faith that it will.”

“...Right.”

Janus didn’t really know what else to say. What else he could say. Was it more cruel to let Patton continue with his impossible task, or burst his bubble now and let him face harsh reality? Should Janus even be feeling sympathy for the demon?

The door to Angela’s office opened. “Oh, I see you two’ve met!” she said brightly behind Janus.

Patton beamed at her. “Sure did!”

“Awesome! You settled then?”

“I am,” Janus said to her. “You mentioned assignments?”

“Yeah. You don’t know how much having you here is going to help, our legal assistant has been going nuts trying to get everything done herself.”

“Mm.” Janus stood up and started over to her office.

“Oh, and Janus?” Janus turned and saw Patton offering him a genuine smile. “Welcome to the office.”

Janus inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you,” he said, before turning back around and following Angela.

What the Hell. Why should Janus care? He wasn’t aligned with the Upstairs anymore. There wasn’t any reason for him to be concerned about some upstart demon trying to worm his way Up. Patton seemed to be taking the most boringly respectable route possible to his unreachable goal, and him burning himself out to do so wasn’t any of Janus’s business. There was no reason for Janus to be interested in Patton.

No reason at all.

#my fics #moceitappreciationweek #moceitweek2022 #sanders sides #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #fallen angel au #demon au #office au #and they were deskmates #Christianity #disclaimer: author is no longer religious #and this fic plays fast and loose with christian theology

24 notes · View notes

nevermindirah · 3 years ago

Text

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

#nile freeman #nile's family #dorothy freeman #tog headcanons #tog meta #mine #long post

86 notes · View notes

simplykaren · 1 year ago

Text

Okay, I’m back at my computer, and as someone who has unfortunately dealt with a string of long-term “manage, not cure” diagnoses over the last decade, here’s the tools I’ve found helpful so far:

- Whatever social media(s) you frequent, follow/subscribe to a few encouraging accounts, so they’ll pop up on your timeline, potentially when you need them. If you’re on Twitter, I can recommend https://twitter.com/SickNotWeak and https://twitter.com/TWLOHA . There will be dark days, and you may or may not feel like looking for light at those times, so it’s important to set yourself up to be exposed to a little encouragement before you need it. A playlist of songs for when you’re feeling down can also be beneficial. NOT a bunch of sad songs, but songs that remind you the dark doesn’t last forever, that hope still exists, etc. without denying or sugar-coating how much pain sucks. Here’s mine (disclaimer, I am a lapsed Christian, so some of these are religious, though most of them aren’t explicitly): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRtwke_niZY&list=PLd8qam6jTMYa01cx_C3yQCmaOU0DtOvnB&index=1

- Have a few things on-hand for “rainy days.” I’m not sure what that looks like for you and your situation, but when I have a really bad day, I don’t have the emotional--and sometimes physical--energy to cook a proper meal that won’t aggravate any of the three GI conditions I juggle. I try to keep an emergency stash of simple, easy to make, “Karen-safe” foods in the cabinet or freezer to ensure that 1) I’ll eat something and 2) I won’t make myself feel worse by doing so. I also keep a supply of Salon Pas patches and arnica gel by my bed for bad knee pain/swelling days and compression gloves for various hand/wrist pain issues that act up when the weather changes. I also keep a stash of meds for various flare-ups at my workplace, just in case.

- Take sick days if you need to. You actually take longer to recover from a flare-up when you push your body. (Biology is petty like that, and burnout impacts recovery as well.)

- Reading hurt/comfort stories can be cathartic. If you like bnha, I can especially recommend “Missing Everything” https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128547/chapters/74216574 . The author does a really good job of getting that sense of grieving what you lost in Toshinori’s POVs. (I apologize; I don’t recall which fandom I originally followed you for. >.>)

- I...also have taken to writing a degree of body horror into some of my own fanfics. It’s a decent way of processing that whole “something about my body’s permanently changed without my permission, it’s not going away, and I have to deal with it now” thing while keeping a little mental distance from it.

i'm sure this is a thing a lot of people go through but i am having to do a lot of uh. sitting with the thought that i will likely never again be well, for a particular value of wellness

like i am relatively sure i will achieve better levels of functioning and lower levels of pain at times in the future. but it seems quite likely at the moment that i will not ever achieve that functioning and reduced pain without significant daily work. there will always be money and appointments and exercises and painkillers. there will always be work between me and health.

that kind of carefree youth thing where your body is just okay and there is not much you need to think about or plan or make time for to ensure it stays that way, beyond fulfilling basic needs: i'm probably not going to have that. as many many people don't

it's okay. it is what it is. i have resources and help and will continue seeking answers. but also i'm...grieving ease and health and that kind of thoughtless simple safety, and anything to help with that would be good. forums, poems, stories, anything that has helped people through this kind of thing in the past

#chronic pain #health #mental health #I hope some of this helps

18 notes · View notes

hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 2 months ago

Text

Regally Smitten

chapter 2: the secret

chapter word count: ~5.2k

synopsis: A future king and his servant are bound by their forbidden love. With the odds stacked against them, and a jealous brother out for blood, will their love prevail? Or will history repeat itself?

warnings: homophobia (specifically religious homophobia, this is a period piece so these beliefs are a reflection of the time period being portrayed, and the characters themselves, and do not reflect my personal beliefs. please read with caution and remember to take care of yourself. ily.) descriptions of violence, main character injury (no main character death), foul language, suggestive themes, brief mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. one mention of suicidal thoughts (but no action)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of stray kids in reality. this is a fanfiction and should be treated as such. this is not me “shipping” them, these are simply characters based on real life people. i don’t need the minsung antis coming for me.

authors note: i definitely cried multiple times while writing this chapter.

series masterlist • main masterlist

The road to Westwood was a long one. About a weeks trip to be exact. They had rode all day long in the sweltering heat, along a dirt path with little tree cover. Well, Han did. The two princes and the king and queen rode in a gold trimmed carriage. Two members of the royal guard rode in front, their black stallions draped in the colors of the kingdom, their long manes braided with flowers. The guardsmen carried swords and tall poles that flew the flag with the crest of the Lee Dynasty.

Han rode on a much less impressive horse, behind the carriage. As did two other squires, one for prince Rian and one for the king and queen. The carriage kicked up dust from its wheels. It stuck to Han’s sweaty skin and left him feeling gritty and dirty. This was his first time as squire, his first time traveling this far away from the castle, his first time being on the back of a horse for this long. His legs and back were absolutely killing him. And to add to it, the other squires would not shut up. They had all been at their post for years. Whereas, this was Han’s second day.

"How you holding up over there, newbie?" called James, the squire assigned to the king and queen. He had been their squire since heinrich first took the throne almost ten years ago, and he was a royal pain in the ass.

"I’m fine. Just a little sore is all." Han told him. The other squires laughed.

"This is only day one. We’ve still got six days worth of riding before we make it to the Westwood gates. You better get used to it."

Han nodded. Unable to focus on their conversation anymore. He was more focused on not falling off his horse.

And just when he thought he could ride no longer, he could see a small village in the distance. As they approached, they started to see more people. Little stone houses, and small fields of crops. A waist high stone wall surrounded the little town. The entrance was guarded by two men, their armor dented and worn. The carriage stopped. The royal guard didnt have to say anything, before the two small guards stepped aside and let their party through the gates. Both guards bowed as the carriage passed. Everyone in the town stopped what they were doing and gathered around the town center, where the carriage stopped. The small door swung open and minho was the first one to step out. He looked just as he did when they had left the castle that morning. He showed no signs of having been riding all day. Han was sure the same could not be said for him.

Minho was dressed in his royal garb, his white undershirt covered by his lilac velvet vest, and tucked into his black trousers. He approached the town leader as the rest of the royal family exited the carriage. Prince Rian was next, followed by Queen Charlotte and lastly, King Heinrich. Everyone in the town center knelt to one knee, bowing their heads.

"Your Grace," said the town leader. "Welcome to Nalefell. It is an honor to have you."

"Thank you, my lord." Minho told the man. "You all may stand." Minho said louder, so everyone could hear him. "Thank you for your warm welcome."

Though no one stood. Rian gave a snobby chuckle. "You’re not king yet, brother." he whispered into Minho’s ear.

"Thank you, people of Nalefell. We wish to seek shelter for the night on our way to Westwood." the king announced.

"Yes, your grace." the town leader said. "Clarice is the head of our inn. She will get your rooms together right away."

A woman to Han's right stood up, he assumed this woman was Clarice. She bowed and said a quiet 'your grace' before turning on her heel and heading into a large building behind her.

Minho, Rian, and the king and queen followed. Leaving the royal guard and the squires to attend to the horses and the carriage.

Once the carriage was parked, their horses tied and fed, Han and the rest of the squires headed to find their respective royal family member.

Han was so incredibly tired, it took everything in him to drag his feet through Minho’s door. The prince was sitting on the edge of the bed, untying his boots. "I am starving." he announced without looking up.

"Of course Your Grace." Han said, his voice worn with exhaustion. “Let me fetch your dinner." He turned to leave, to head to the small pub across the square from the inn where he was sure he could find something to satisfy the king.

"Hold on." the prince stopped him. Han turned back around, facing Minho, waiting for instruction. "Are you alright?" the prince asked.

"Yes, Your Grace. Just a little tired from the days journey." Han explained. "Though I’m sure you are even more tired than I am. Please allow me to get your dinner."

"Han, you look awful." Minho said.

The look on Han’s face made Minho backtrack a little. "I mean no disrespect." the prince said. "You just look like you need to rest." Minho put his boots back on and stood. "Here. Please lie down." Minho motioned to the bed.

Han froze. "Your Grace.. you are too kind. I could not lie in your bed." Han shook his head. "I will get your dinner and then I will find my own bed if you have no need for me after that."

Minho wanted to tell his squire that he will always have need for him. He needs him in more ways than anyone will ever know. He felt so bad. Han was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat. He looked like he was about to pass out on the spot.

"As prince, im ordering you." Minho said, his voice gentle and not at all sounding authoritative. "Wash up while I go across the way and get us some food. It will give me a chance to talk to some townspeople anyway." Minho crossed the room to where Han stood in the doorway.

"Oh and by the way, my bed is your bed tonight. They only had three rooms. One for my parents and their squire, one for Rian and his squire, and one for me and you."

Han's cheeks pinked at the thought of sharing a bed with minho. Surely the other squires weren’t sleeping in bed with the royals. There’s no way that the king and queen are sleeping in the same bed as James. No, Han would sleep on the floor, as he was sure thats what the other squires would do as well.

Minho smiled, pleased with the blush that covered Han’s weary face. He patted the squire on the top of his head and gently moved passed him, in search of some food.

----

The dinner that Minho had found, filled Han’s tummy and made him very happy. They ate in silence together, both unsure of what to say to the other. The only break in the silence was when Minho had quietly said, "You’re cute with your cheeks filled with food like that. Like a little chipmunk." and Han was so stunned, he could not reply. He just bowed his head slightly to the royal. Minho also didnt add anything after that, having accomplished his mission of flustering his squire once more. He had decided he would do so any chance he could, as he never tired of seeing Han blushing and speechless.

Plates empty and left on the table, the prince climbed into bed. Han grabbed a spare pillow from the corner and took his place on the uneven floorboards at the foot of the bed.

"What’re you doing?" Minho asked.

"We should get some sleep, Your Grace. We ride again at first light."

"I know that." Minho said, shortly. "I meant, what are you doing on the floor? There is plenty of room and I promise I dont bite." Well, not unless Han wanted him to.

"It would be inappropriate, Your Grace. I am comfortable on the floor." Han curled up on his side, unable to see the prince any longer. Even thought the floor was dirty and hard as a rock, it was nice to finally rest his body by lying down. The bed squeaked, and Minho’s head popped up over the footboard. He looked down at Han, curled up in a small ball on the floor, and took a moment to admire him. His eyes were closed, his hair tickling his forehead, his full lips in a small pout. Han opened his eyes. "Your Grace?"

"You’re going to make me sleep up here all by myself? While you’re miserable on the hard floor?" Minho raised one eyebrow at his squire.

"Your Grace," Han began.

"Call me Minho." the prince interrupted. "You were practically limping earlier. There’s no way you will be able to do another full days ride after sleeping down there."

"Your Grace, I am flattered at your concern for me. But I must sleep on the floor. I promise I am okay." Han’s stomach was in knots, the prince's face so close to his.

The prince rolled his eyes. "I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m your future king. Get up here." Minho said, before crawling back to the top of the bed and climbing under the covers.

Han took a moment to take a deep breath before he stood. He awkwardly stood at the end of the bed, wringing his pillow in his hands. Minho lifted the cover next to him and patted the mattress. "I promise to keep my hands to myself." he teased.

Han nodded before gently laying on the bed, as close to the edge as he could get, facing away from the prince. The mattress sank under him and conformed to his body. He had to admit, it was extremely comfortable. He felt sleep coming for him quickly. Minho let out a small chuckle and smiled to himself. "Goodnight, Han." he said, quietly.

"Goodnight Your Grace."

----

The rest of the trip to Westwood was much of the same. Long grueling hours on the back of a horse, behind a carriage thats kicking up dust. The only reprieve being the rest when night fell in a small inn somewhere in the countryside. Though every night that followed had not been like the first night. Each inn they stayed at had a room specifically for the squires to share. Han sometimes let his mind wander back to that first night. Why had the prince insisted on sharing a bed? And why did he seem so.. flirtatious? Surely Han must be mistaken. No, he was delusional. That’s what it was. He would write to Hyunjin and have his best friend set him straight. Though, does he risk writing that down and sending it with a messenger? Han’s newfound feelings for the prince could cause him to loose his job should the word get out. And not only that, it could ruin the prince's reputation. Same sex relationships were defintely looked down upon in this kindgom. Han wondered if maybe it went even further than that. Han had always kept his feelings to himself. Only Hyunjin knows which way Han leans. Who Han fancies. And Han had never heard of anyone else in the kingdom being like himself. Only the gods know what would come about if this information got out. And selfishly, he didnt want to loose his place at the prince's side. No, he would admire him in secret and make sure to keep his distance from now on. Though the prince made it hard sometimes.

On the last day of their trip, the last night in an inn before they made it to Westwood, Han had been asleep on the floor, James had stolen the only bed in their room all for himself, when he was awoken. Someone was shaking him awake.

"Han." shake shake. "Han, wake up." shake.

Han slowly opened his eyes and he was met with.. chocolate. Han jumped back, scooted as far away as he could until he hit the wall.

"Shhh. Don’t wake them." The prince pressed a ringed pointer finger to his lips, telling Han to shush. He motioned with his hand for Han to follow him. Han clutched his boots in his hand and tiptoed out of the room.

"Your Grace." Han whispered. "Is something wrong?"

Minho shook his head and began walking to the entrance of the inn, Han trailing behind him, trying to put on his boots and walk at the same time. They snuck outside, the town quiet, the horses softly munching on their hay. Han finally caught up with Minho, who walked casually behind the inn.

"Your Grace." Han said, quietly. "Might i ask what's going on?"

"I couldn’t sleep." the prince answered. "I thought some fresh air would do me good. And the stars look so nice."

At the edge of the little village, a small river bubbled along, Minho standing on its banks, head tilted toward the sky.

"I agree a night walk is rather lovely.." Han said, still unsure why the prince woke him up for this. Han tipped a small rock over with the toe of his boot, the silence between the two men growing.

"You’re wondering why I woke you up." the prince stated.

Han looked over at Minho, the moonlight making his sharp features even sharper, his nose prominent. Though Han wished he could see that small freckle he knew was there. No, the darkness still hid that from him. "You dont need to explain, Your Grace."

The prince took a step closer to Han. Close enough to poke him in his side. Han jerked away, out of ticklishness, and unsure how to handle this playful nature. "It’s Minho." he said. "I wish you would call me Minho."

Han just nodded, taking a step back, looking at the dirt and trying to gather his thoughts.

"Can i ask you a question, Han?"

"Of course, Your Grace." Minho rolled his eyes. He would get Han to drop the formalities one day.

"You don’t have to answer if you so wish." he said. Han nodded, intrigued with what the prince could possibly have to ask him. "Do you think I will make a good king? Or do you think Rian is better for the job?"

Han took a moment to process the question. He needed to tread carefully. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing. "I think you would make a fantastic king."

"I’ve been raised my whole life to be king one day." Minho said, taking a seat on the soft grass next to the running water. He gestured for Han to sit next to him. Carefully, Han sat cross legged, the soft grass slightly damp with the morning dew. Han noticed the sun would be up soon. "I’m only going to be king because I was born first. If Rian had been born first, he would be the heir, not me."

"If i may speak freely, Your Grace." Han said, pulling up little blades of grass and rolling them together in his fingers. Minho nodded, gesturing for Han to continue. "I think your brother can be a little.. crass at times." Minho chuckled at that. Han continued. "I mean no disrespect toward Prince Rian, but he can be a little harsh. But you, Your Grace.. you are kind. You are what the people need." Minho looked over at Han, who was focused on the grass in his fingers. "You are kind, and fair, and enjoy talking with the people, hearing their stories and where they come from. Sometimes I feel like your brother is just interested in the notoriety." Han looked up and met Minho’s gaze. The prince was staring at him, hard. "But- but I’m sure im mistaken. prince Rian is lovely."

"Do’nt lie to me, Han." Minho said.

"Never, Your Grace." Minho looked as if he was searching for something in Han’s features. Any trace of dishonesty. Not about Rian. No, Minho knew his brother was an ass. But did Han really believe everything he had said about Minho being kind? Should Minho be harsher? More like his brother? Is that what it takes to be king? Minho wasn’t sure.

Han turned his gaze to the water, dipping his fingertips into its cold depths, unable to look into Minho’s eyes any longer.

"What if I just left?" the prince said.

Han's head snapped up, shocked. "What do you mean, left?"

Minho shrugged. "I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve thought about." He studied Han’s face. The way his blinks were slow, processing the words and formulating an appropriate response. He was so cute. Minho felt the need to protect him at all costs. Nothing bad could happen to Han. Minho didn’t think he could live if it did. "I’ve been thinking about it a lot more, recently." He continued.

"Is that something you want?" Han asked.

"I don’t know. Maybe." Minho ran his hands through his hair before reclining back on his hands. "I don’t want to run from my responsibilities, but at the same time, I’m not sure if being king is what I want. But I may not have that choice."

Han nodded, listening. "Could I say something rather selfish, Your Grace?" Minho looked over at Han, the dim light casting shadows across his face. "I think you would make a wonderful king. The best king this realm has had in a very long time. But I would not be mad if you decided you wanted to run from it. I can not imagine the amount of stress and pressure that must be on your shoulders." your incredibly broad, muscled, perfect shoulders. "but if you were not king, or if you left while still a prince, then I would no longer be your squire. And that would make me sad, I think."

"So come with me." Minho said, quickly. He sounded so sure of himself. Like he had thought this out already and had the plan in place. "..if i decide to go." he added. Han was stunned, his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded. And somehow Minho thought it made him even more adorable. The prince slowly inched his hand across the grass until his fingertips brushed Han’s. He ran his index finger down the length of Han’s thumb before Han pulled away. His stomach was in knots, he felt he may throw up his mutton he had for dinner.

"The sun will be up soon, Your Grace." Han said quietly. "We should go back to the inn."

And all Minho could do was admire the flush on Han’s cheeks. He wanted so badly to tell him that he has made up his mind. That they should leave, start a life together somewhere else. Somewhere where kings and queens didn’t rule, somewhere where Minho could kiss Han. Where he could openly kiss him and hold his hand and tell him just how happy he makes him. But Minho knew it was a fantasy, knew that it could never be. Minho had duties, a whole kingdom of people depending on him. He could not just run and leave them to suffer the nightmare that would surely be the rein of his brother. No, Minho must stick it out. He knew he needed to be king. But it was fun to entertain the thought of happiness, sometimes.

And with the sun peeking over the hilltop, Minho also rose, and led the way back to the inn.

----

Han had decided Westwood was a beautiful city. It was slightly smaller than the capital city where their castle was, but it was twice as beautiful. The city was covered in flowers. As far as the eye could see, flowers. Fields of lilacs and peonies, tulips and roses. Bright green vines crawled up all of the stone walls. The shops that lined the square were selling bouquets and don’t get Han stated on the smell.

"First time in Westwood?" James asked, seeing the awe on Han's face. Han nodded in response, unable to take his eyes off of the beautiful colors, but being careful to keep his horse in line. "Westwood is the main flower supplier for all of the realm." James said. "Anytime there’s a wedding, or a coronation, or birthday feast, the flowers come from here." James scrunched up his nose. "I think it reeks."

Han turned his head toward his fellow squire. "What? You hate it? How? It's so beautiful."

James rolled his eyes. "You're kind of a priss, aren't you?"

Han turned away, decided not to even respond to that comment.

If the town was beautiful, and the square was beautiful, it paled in comparison to the house they approached now. The single story stone house was sprawling. Covered in vines and flowers just like the rest of the town, but the house was very open and airy. There were so many windows with no glass, just large holes decorated with gossamer curtains that blew in the rose scented breeze. They were greeted by Lord Alexander and Lady Ere, and a young lady who Han did not know of her name but assumed her to be their daughter. Based on the way she was dressed, and the way she curtsied when the king approached, Han knew she was no servant. She had been raised well.

"Welcome, my lord, to Westwood." Alexander said, bowing, and then spreading his arms wide. The king laughed a laugh that Han didnt think him capable of. One that actually sounded.. happy. One that sounded like it originated deep in his belly.

"Alex! So good to see you, old friend." The king embraced the Lord before turning his attention to Lady Ere. He kissed her hand gently.

"I trust your trip was comfortable?" Lady Ere asked.

The queen answered her. "Oh very much so. But we are glad to have finally arrived. A week is a very long time to travel."

"Of course, of course." Alex said. "Please, do come inside out of the heat. We have dinner prepared."

And with that, the king and queen and both princes followed them inside the beautiful flower covered home. And Han rode away to feed and water his horse.

The servants at the Westwood home, showed the squires to their guest rooms. Unlike the inns they stayed at along the way, this house was large enough for everyone, all the members of the royal family and their squires, to have their own individual rooms. The room Han was placed in was small, but that was okay with him. He had a bed all to himself for the first time in a week. He wasn’t about to complain. He relaxed onto the soft cushion mattress and before he knew it, sleep overtook him. He only awoke to the sound of a soft knocking at his door. Bleary, his eyes cracked open. The once bright room was now overtaken with darkness. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust. The soft knocking happened again. Han begrudgingly hauled himself off of the bed and cracked the door open.

The prince immediately felt better after seeing Han’s face. He could tell his squire had been sleeping, his eyes barely open, his face puffy. It instantly made his heart feel lighter. It’s just what he needed. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you." Minho said.

Han stepped aside and allowed the prince to enter. "No, that’s okay, Your Grace. I was just getting up." Minho knew that was a lie, but he appreciated the way Han worried about his feelings. "Did you need something from me?" Han asked.

Minho paused for a moment, thinking. "No." he said. "No, not really. Just.." he paused again, turning to face Han, who was closing the door behind them. "Some company?" Minho finished his thought.

Han looked surprised. Minho noticed that Han often looked surprised. Like he felt that the prince would never want to voluntarily spend time with his squire. But that was not the case at all. Minho wanted to spend every single minute with Han. But it wasn’t appropriate to tell him that. Especially after the news he had just been given at dinner. Minho sat on the edge of Han’s bed, and looked up at the sleepy man. Han took a seat next to the prince, the small bed dipping under their weight causing their bodies to slide closer together. Their knees touching.

"I was thinking again about our conversation from this morning. About leaving and starting somewhere else." Minho said. Han nodded, but was unsure of what to say, so the prince continued. "It’s a wonderful fantasy. Don’t you think?"

Han did think that it would be nice to run away with Minho. To spend a life with Minho. But Han was sure that the future he was imaging was far different than the one the prince was picturing. "It does sound nice, Your Grace."

Minho sighed, he turned his head toward Han, who was looking down at his hands. "Will you ever listen to me when I say, please call me Minho?"

Han looked up and met Minho’s gaze. His eyes were intense. That was the only way that Han could describe it. They were so filled with emotion. More than one emotion for sure, but Han couldn’t place what they were. Sadness? Fear? Love?

"It would not be appropriate for me to call you anything other than your grace.. Your Grace." Han said quietly, feeling small under Minho’s stare. He couldnt tear his eyes away from the princes, though. He was captivated, enthralled. In this moment, nothing else existed for him. And Minho felt the same way. When he looked into Han’s eyes, he could see the future he so longed for. Deep in his brown iris, was a whole life that Minho could see. A whole world away from all of this princely bullshit. A simple life, with the man he loved.

The prince was leaning closer, trying to chase that life he could see. Han was busy trying to memorize all the lines of his prince's face. They had never been this close, their breath mingling together. That freckle that Han loved so much was only a few inches from his own nose. And what would he do if those noses touched? What would Han do if the prince's pouty lips met his own? Han didnt know.

Minho placed one hand on Han’s knee, the contact sending shivers through Han’s body. As the prince drew ever closer, Han knew this was a bad idea. He knew they should stop. But he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He didnt want to. Minho brought his other hand up and brushed some hair away from Han’s eyes, before sliding that hand to cradle Han’s head. Han was having trouble breathing now, his breaths coming in short ragged pants, his heart rate spiking.

Minho loved it when Han let out that little gasp, loved it when his cheeks turned a soft pink. But he thinks he loves it the most when he finally gets close enough.. after these long, longing days, he finally gets close enough..

Han closed his eyes, his fists clenched in his lap, as the prince finally was close enough, that their lips touched.

And it was everything Han had dreamed of. The prince's lips were soft, and warm as they moved against his own, the pressure feather light. Minho used his hold on the back of Han’s head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Han felt his whole body relax as the prince's tongue ran along his bottom lip, the pince's hand rubbing soft circles on Han’s leg. Han thought this must be what heaven felt like. This is what the devoutly faithful meant when they said that heaven is beautiful. And Han thought he may take them up on their talk of gods if it meant he could stay in this heaven forever. In Minho’s arms for the rest of eternity.

Minho gently pushed Han, until his back hit the mattress. The prince broke the kiss, but only to move his lips to Han’s neck. he placed gentle kisses there. Minho was used to being a prince, used to having people worship him and faun over him. But in this moment, and in all future moments, all he wanted to do was worship Han. Wanted to give him everything he could ever want and more. And when the prince bit down softly on the flesh of Han’s neck, that’s when he heard it.

Han let out a soft gasp. "M-Minho.." he breathed out.

And then it clicked. Hearing his squire finally say the one thing he had been begging for this whole time, it finally brought the prince back to his senses. They can’t be doing this. This is dangerous. Minho threw himself off of the bed and across the room. His back against the cold hard stone of the wall, as Han lay on his back, flushed and panting, embarrassed.

"I- I’m sorry.." Han said quietly.

Minho's heart broke. What had he done? There was no going back from here. He promised not to make the same mistake as he did before, and now look at him.

Han sat up, his head in his hands. "I’m so sorry. I- I shouldn’t have.." Han couldn’t find the words. Minho had done this. His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest. He had made Han feel this way. Had made Han feel like he had done something wrong. Had practically begged for him to drop the honorifics and call him by his name and when he finally did.. it was so beautiful. But then Minho freaked out and now he fears he will never hear it again. And if that’s the case, then it’s what he deserves.

"They want me to marry her." Minho said bluntly. Han looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. Minho had to look away. He would not cry in front of Han. "The daughter here, Astrid. They want me to marry her. That’s what the dinner was about. What this whole trip has been about.”

Han's heart shattered some more. "oh-- oh." he stuttered. "I th-think you and the lady would make a fine match." Han said, though his voice shook.

"I told you never to lie to me, Han." Minho said quietly. He approached the squire. He knelt down on the floor in front of him. Looked up at him and used his thumbs to wipe his tears. "I don’t want to marry her." He whispered. Han sniffled. "I don’t want to, but I fear I may have no choice."

Han remained silent, holding back his tears. "I’m sorry, Han. I shouldn’t have put you through this.” He searched Han’s face, searched his eyes, no longer seeing their future there. "I’m sorry. I had a moment of weakness..” Han nodded, silent tears falling down his cheeks.

"But this has to remain a secret." Minho whispered. He leaned in and kissed Han on the cheek softly. “This has to remain a secret, and it can’t happen again.”

And with that, the prince stood and left the room, the door softly shutting behind him and Han’s heart was in pieces, littering the floor.

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

8 notes · View notes

spield · 4 years ago

Text

journey to i - kakasaku

Author’s Notes: This has been in my google docs for so long, I’ve forgotten all about it. I low-key panicked when I couldn’t find it my files hahaha. But here it is. Not much romance, but more of... hmm, you tell me what you think it is in your comments! ;)

Disclaimer: As I’ve said before, sometimes I just write to get things out THEN edit it after. This is the case for this one. Will probably edit this soon though!

In the end, when Sasuke asks, Sakura says no.

She takes his lone hand, kisses his palm and whispers why she can’t.

Sasuke doesn’t understand but he sees the longing in her green eyes, and ah, that he understands. So he pokes her forehead, just above her seal, and hopes they meet on the road and promises a cup of tea.

She doesn’t linger to watch him leave. Instead, the moment he turns his back, she turns hers too. One feet in front of the other, she walks through the paths of her village, through the market and takes a few turns and goes inside the Hokage tower.

In less than an hour, Sakura files her indefinite leave with a promise to assist, help and support members of the Shinobi Alliance on her way but with no promise when she’ll come back.

Kakashi is outside when she steps out, no signs of his hat and coat but with his trademark slouch present. He must’ve jumped through the window, Sakura thinks amusedly. Somehow, even through everything, under the fading light, he still looks untouchable. Perhaps, especially now. “You going somewhere?”

“You just approved my papers.” Sakura smiles, waving the scroll in front of him. “You know where I’m going.”

Kakashi’s dark eyes - eyes, how odd - are unreadable as he says, “No. No, I don’t.”

There’s much left to say, but years of cowardice and hiding are not easy habits to break. So Sakura heads home, and is gone before the sunrise.

At the end of it all, Sakura goes on a journey to retrace her own family’s history. Beyond Konoha, beyond the Land of Fire and beyond the world of the shinobi.

Because before Sakura was the Fifth’s Apprentice, before she was The Scorpion Killer and way before she was the leftovers of an old genin team, Sakura was a Haruno.

And all Haruno go back to the sea.

She left Konoha with just one bag filled with colorful clothes that she never got to wear. Clothes that her mother and father gifted her year after year, holiday after holiday, even when she couldn’t wear them. Not in the village of leaves, not when they smell of the sea even if they’ve never touched it.

So, Haruno Sakura goes home.

This is what Sakura tells the Godaime, the Rokudaime and anyone who asks.

(This is what she tells herself, however, in the end, it’s still heartbreak that leads her away from Konoha. When she meets Sasuke for tea, she hopes they could talk about how Konoha broke their hearts in the way it never did to Naruto.)

All questions are quelled by a calling, by the vast distance, beyond the greens of different trees and blues of different seas tug at her heartstrings, whispering, “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Sakura circumnavigates the world and through her journey, she meets a monk, a lover and a heathen.

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs. From what she’d gathered throughout her years of friendship with Kankuro, they were pretty lenient to whatever gods their shinobi choose to worship.

“Maybe, you know, except for another Rabbit Goddess,” Kankuro backtracked, fingers uncoordinated and stiff from fighting, trying to balance a sake cup. It was the first time they’ve seen each other after the war, on the tails still of victory and defeat. High off it. “Yup, maybe not another Rabbit Goddess, maybe not Jashin either - everything else, fair game.”

“Faith is an interesting reprieve from the terrors of life.” Gaara said, righting his brother up with his sand. His teal eyes are fond and warm, and new. His gourd is nowhere to be seen and he looks so young for a man who led their army. “We let people have their gods.”

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs, or rather, they’re known for not being known for it but still, it’s where Sakura meets the monk.

Suna welcomes her with open arms because the sands may be forever shifting, but it never forgets. It remembers her as that 15 year old prodigy who saved their Kazekage’s brother, that 19, 20 and 21 year old who performed miracles in the battlefield with eyes fierce and elbows deep in people’s guts. Suna loves her for what she represents - grit, dirt and kindness honed by the cruelty of the world.

(Abandoned. That’s what Suna and Sakura had in common.)

Sometimes, Sakura wishes she could see what they see too.

Now, she’s 23 years old. Two years after the war and she’s still so tired.

In Suna, she’s given free reign of the hospital. Overseeing their developments in prosthesis, their puppet corps turned into experts of the field. She supposes Sasori would be rolling in his grave at the thought of how his notes revolutionized the entire field of artificial limbs - if he had a grave that is.

(Sasori was a brilliant man. Mad, yes, but brilliant - and aren’t the brilliant ones always are?)

When Sakura lessens her healing and caseload citing more hands-on training for the Suna medics, Gaara doesn’t ask. She’s still brilliant with her lectures and demonstration and nobody dares to question the greatest healer of the nations.

It is on the first day of her sixth month when she sees the monk. There’s some sort of blessing ceremony to be done to the new ward of the hospital. The Kazekage’s invited the religious leaders of Suna to bless the place.

Several came, all with different garments and different rituals. One came with water from a blessed oasis, all barefooted and with hair reaching up to the backs of their knees. They spoke a language she’s never heard, words running over like water over rocks in a bubbling stream. Another came in traditional Suna garments, and sprinkled sand over the white tiles of the new ward - under the setting sun, it looked like fairy dust and gold.

Many came and went, but one remained still at the outskirts of the crowd, quiet and familiar.

“It’s the first time he’s gone out in public since Chiyo-baa-sama’s death,” Kankuro shrugged when Sakura asked. “He’s kind of particular and all that.”

It isn’t until the sun dips down the horizon that the monk steps forward. At this point there aren’t anyone left but Gaara and Sakura but nevertheless, they receive no acknowledgement from the stooping man.

He’s quiet, as he bleeds his chakra to the floor and down every grain of sand in the ward. It always amazes Sakura how chakra lives in non-combatants - a proof that it exists beyond duty. And proof that it can, perhaps, one day exist only for beauty.

“Do you think he takes confessions?” Sakura whispers. Gaara’s lips quirk upwards, knowing that she knows the difference between a priest and a monk and yet indulges her. “Perhaps. If he does, let me know.” They’ve all got sins to unload, Sakura muses. And yet, despite being weighed down by all the choices she’s made and been forced to make, it’s not what spills from her mouth when she finds the monk a week after.

Or rather, he finds her. Coughing, old and sitting on her table.

There’s something about him, lungs barely holding on and yet still at peace, old age running lines on his face that had her saying, confessing - “I believe I am lost.”

The monk pauses, eyes torn away from the window and gravitating towards her face. Sakura doesn’t expect a response, after all, he hasn’t said a word to anyone for years. But, he shakes his naked head and offers her a smile, “Nothing is ever really lost.”

That night, she receives a missive from Konoha, like she’s been receiving for the past eleven months but this time, there are two of them. One is a response to the report she wrote about the progress of her study in prosthetics and the other, the other smelling of home and written in a piece of old weathered paper. It almost makes her smile. Mr. Ukki misses you.

Sakura doesn’t stay long after that. She fears that if she stays so near to home, its voice will overpower her roots’, and the sea has been waiting for her since she was born.

She bids Suna goodbye after a year of staying within its walls. She hugs Kankuro tightly, hold Temari’s hand and kisses Gaara’s cheek.

The Kazekage blushes underneath his hat and Kankuro jibes, “Well, if this is what farewell feels like, then you should say goodbye more often.”

For months, Sakura moves from town to town, village to village. Occasionally receiving scrolls from Konoha, asking her to lend assistance to a new ally or an old enemy.

It’s funny, how a great military power apologizes for its sins. Never acknowledging it, never calling it reparations, preferring the term “aid” when it only ever is leverage.

How odd.

How hypocritical.

(Sometimes, Sakura wonders if Uchiha Itachi was truly a loyal ninja of Konoha or if he was yet just another blinded soldier searching for idealism in a corrupted system. Was he a victim, truly? A hero? A martyr? To what end? For whom?)

In her bones, Sakura feels time slipping faster and faster, and despite these emerging thoughts, she wonders if spring has begun in Konoha.

She claims her free tea from Sasuke at a small town on the border of Iwakagure and Takigakure, almost half a year after she left Suna - two years into her journey.

“You need a haircut, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura greets and watches in satisfaction as the hobo-looking man looks up to her as she sits in front of him. His hair has grown longer, covering part of his face, finally succumbing to gravity and bidding the duck-butt style goodbye.

“Sakura.”

There’s something in the way Sasuke speaks her name. When they were kids, it’s always with dismissal and when they went on, it’s with a tone of chained fondness. During the war, it’s with disdain turned acknowledgement.

When they were in Konoha, Sakura could swear that she could hear pride in Sasuke’s voice, hidden behind the syllables of her name.

Here, he calls her with surprise melting into relief. Perhaps, being alone has taken a toll to her wayward teammate.

(Here’s the difference between the two: Sasuke is looking and running from something, Sakura knows where she’s going. Whether or not she’s running or looking too is irrelevant.) (Kind of.)

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura smiles and waves a waitress down, “Fancy a cup of tea with me?”

Sasuke nods, his lips tugging upward. His dark eyes linger on the spider silk strands of her hair against the orange setting sun. Her hair’s grown longer, almost as long as when they were genin.

For a short moment, he’s filled with dread, struggling to remember what young Sakura looked like. He’s starting to forget, perhaps, and it is both a blessing and a punishment.

The shadows shift and stretch under the guidance of the setting sun, and they exchange stories of the road until the moon nudges the sun to rest.

It’s funny how easy they fall into bed together, right after tea.

Sakura’s childhood dreams featured more of a courtship, a promise and a marriage. Teenage Sakura’s fantasy featured more heated kisses, a fight and a leveling of a forest in rage turned lust.

But this, this is so much better.

Sasuke touches her with surprising gentleness and want, after they trip their way to his accommodations. There’s a softness in the firm kisses of his mouth, a tremble playing at the edge of his fingertips. It’s not a battle, or a dance but rather an introduction. A hello followed by oh... gods, yes, there --

Sasuke makes it good, despite only having one arm, it must be an Uchiha thing to be so good at everything, Sakura thinks as she lay beside her former team mate.

In a different life, perhaps, she would’ve married Sasuke, she thinks as she watches his lashes flutter as he sleeps. Perhaps, she would’ve give him a child, a girl with his eyes and her hair. A pink-haired Uchiha. But this is not that lifetime.

Instead, Sakura meets Sasuke again - or perhaps for the very first time - as a lover. Washed anew by his journey, Sakura gets to know her former teammate as a man who can reel out moans and gasps from her, who can, after they decided to travel together for a while, and will start a fire to keep her warm and will tease her about her love affair when he reads Kakashi’s letter over her shoulder. “Was he the reason why you didn’t come with me?” Sasuke asks. They’re in the Land of Snow, farther from where Sakura really aims to go, but she’s got time to spare and Sasuke might actually be killed by the Raikage if he’s found shuffling around near their country without an escort. Sakura glances at the words written on the wrinkled parchment (Naruto’s taking classes with Shikamaru. Lots of reading for him to do. He tried using Kage Bunshin to study and knocked himself out. Time is of the essence, he said, and I agree.) and pinches that flicker of hope budding in her chest.

She shrugs at Sasuke’s question, “I think... I think I wouldn’t have gone with you even without him in the picture.” Something sad flickers in Sasuke’s eyes before it’s gone, “And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.”

In the frigid cold of the snow, Sasuke moves against Sakura as an apology and a goodbye. It’s more than comrades sharing warmth but less than lovers making love. At the back of Sakura’s mind, she wonders if Kakashi knows - if he’s angry or if, like always, he understands. (She misses him, even when they’ve never had each other like this. But the intimacy of sex is trumped by the intimacy in battle, in handling each other with precious care, scars and blood be damned. It is an intimacy borne of desperation, fostered by respect, watered with fondness -- and killed out of love. She misses him, but time is of the essence.)

Sasuke and Sakura split up at the outskirts of the Land of Stone at the start of her third year of travelling. He went East, she went West and that was that. A few days in, Sakura enters Asakura. Asakura is the city of heathens - prostitutions, gambling, and underground dealing. It’s the city of sin, which means, it’s also the land of base instincts and humanity stripped to its bare bones.

It seems like a city just right up her shishou’s alley. Sakura only had to follow the sounds of bellowing, of bodies of men flying out of tavern, and murmurs about a (beautiful but) crazy bitch burning through her own money to find Tsunade.

News of another jinchuuriki kage reaches her ears too, but she brushes it away. It’s been three years since she last saw her shishou and in the dim lights of the tavern, she’s glad to see her as youthful as ever, and tries to erase the image of her wan, old, and dying.

It is only after Tsunade wins that Sakura approaches with a bottle of sake on hand.

Glancing down at the large money of pot she just won, Tsunade’s heart pounds hard looking at the girl she broke and trained and broke again until she remade herself - her daughter in all but name - and chokes, joking, “Are you dying?”

When her girl smiles, all calm and accepting, and raises a bottle of the most expensive sake Tsunade ever tasted, something inside the old Senju crumbles.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Oh Sakura, what have you done?”

Tsunade’s hands are shaking, the fading glow of her uselessness mocking her in the darkness of Sakura’s rented room.

“Everything, shishou. I’ve done everything. I’ve read every book, prayed to every god--”

“God? What good is a god?”

Initially, Tsunade refuses to let her go. Forces Sakura to stay put with the same glint in her eyes when she taught the kid how to dodge, but it seemed the Slug Princess taught her too well.

Because after the barbs, sarcasm and nights of getting way too drunk off the pots of money Tsunade continues to win, Sakura says goodbye.

And Tsunade, not as bitter as she would’ve been, lets her go, and curses the gods for not taking her instead - because hasn’t she witnessed to many deaths already?

It’s at the fourth year of her journey does Sakura finally lays her eyes on the blue of seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands. The calling is silent now that she’s come.

She sheds her old life - her headband, her gloves and her boots and brings out the vibrantly colored fabrics from her parents. It’s silk against her pinkened skin, and the sand is warm against her feet.

It feels like a hug and a song of - “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Kakashi writes to her and Sakura doesn’t answer with a letter of her own.

Instead, she sends Kakashi eel that she herself smoked, a small vial of pink sand and a kiss on a card.

That night, she dances under the moonlight like a flickering moth around the pyre she built.

The oceans sings for her and she is home.

After that, there’s no more letters from Konoha.

In the middle of the fourth year of her journey and the year mark of her semi-permanent residence by the seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands, Ino visits her. Ino, with her platinum blond hair arrives, still beautiful even with sweat dripping off her.

It takes three days of sunbathing, flower weaving and rebuilding of an old friendship before Ino asks her to come home.

“Haven’t you been away for far too long?” Ino asks, quiet and grown. The days of high-pitch screams and name-calling seems so far away from this little shack by the sea, in this little life her best friend built for herself.

They’ve spoken of their friends - Naruto’s marriage, Shikamaru’s courtship fo Temari, Ino’s love with Sai and they laughed like bells but Ino didn’t find an ounce of longing in her friend’s eyes, and she already knew she has lost.

Sakura looks to the shore, there’s a storm coming and hums, “Perhaps.”

The last letter she receives from Konoha is not a letter at all.

It’s a missive, an invitation - for the Rokudaime’s retirement and the Nanadaime’s ascension.

“God? What good is a god?”

Who knows? For believers, gods are good for much but--

Because Sakura is not a reincarnation of a god, when she touched Kaguya with her fist glowing green and blue, Sakura touched something not human.

And it touched her back.

A year into the peace, it rooted deep inside her bones, a poison of the gods against humans brave and stupid enough to lay hands on them.

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to understand her predicament. She was rotting inside out. Her chakra is poisoning her organs, taking bits off her little by little and so she left Konoha. In leaving, she left what was blossoming between her and Kakashi too in hopes that perhaps she could spare him from this pain.

But also, she left for this: the sea, the calling and the sand under her feet, and the presence drawing near.

On the last day of her journey, five years after she left, with her life force draining and yet stretching still - holding on, waiting, the Rokudaime, Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu, her lover, her love - arrives on the shores of this little island west of Whirlpool.

He is older, of course he is. But still, Sakura runs towards him and he, mask pulled down, feet bare and eyes warm - finally free-, takes the last step and meets her halfway. (There’s still much left to say, but they’ve had years of dealing with cowardice and hiding that they’re laughingly easy habits to break.)

#kakasaku #mild sasusaku #kankusaku friendship #gaasaku friendship #tsunade #journey to i #inosaku friendship #the aftermaths of touching a god

112 notes · View notes

a-stitch-in-time-and-space · 4 years ago

Text

Cardassians aren’t Nazis (and also not quite the USSR, but I see where you’re coming from)

TW: for much discussions of Nazism, fascism, persecution, no details

So tottering around as a lover of DS9 and (disclaimer) as a major fan of the Cardassians as a not-yer-generic-villain type villain that then become less of a villain, because you can’t assign villainy to a whole species + also being German and hearing/watching/reading a lot of analyses that compare them to Nazis is inspiring me to write this (gasps for breath at the end of that sentence).

@tinsnip , @handsome-anne

1. Who were the Nazis that the Cardassians are specifically being compared to (versus neo-nazis/alt-rights, etc. that they’re not being compared to)

Short version: Post WWI the Versailles Treaty fucked over Germany in a way that left it wide open to the sort of megalomaniacal little bastard on a powertrip that fed on people’s fear and pushed them into a far-right disaster. The Nazi party itself didn’t have a ton of members, but it basically eroded any kind of democracy the country had and decided it would scapegoat Jews, Romani, communists, queer people, and other “intelligent elite”/political dissident and then spread those ideals across the world like a demented wannabe roman Caesar state. This didn’t last too long in the grand scale of world history, but left a body count of 6 million+ dead, mainly Jewish.

2. Germany and its relationship to this history

So Germany tries pretty hard to teach people this history in schools, through memorials, in film, etc. It’s not perfect by any means, there’re still discussions on how to make reparations, as well as neo-nazis and other far-right people around still, sadly just like in the rest of the world.

But it’s not covering up these atrocities, because there’s a belief that the way to make sure it doesn’t happen again is to be honest. Sadly, not everyone around the world gets as detailed a history surrounding its origins, happenings, and aftermaths, nor does every country engage with its own past like that.

3. Let’s get fictional (Cardassians, first impressions)

The Cardassians are a species that we mainly meet first through their subjugation of the Bajoran people, and then on DS9 following the immediate aftermath of the occupation on Bajor and everything that follows on from there. Throughout the story we discover various bits about what they had done - labour camps, mass executions, forced prostitution, and in that one Voyager episode I’m not a fan of because it didn’t have the range, experimentation.

On the surface, pretty comparable to the nazis, I get it. Hell, often that’s definitely “the source” of where the writers are getting their ideas.

4. So they’re... Nazis?

The problem comes when using one fascist regime as a go-to for these atrocities. It ignores the reality of fascism beyond this particular point in history and also it’s just not that simple.

When looking at Nazi Germany we also have to look at the source of its making, the climate around it (countries like the UK having a nazi party, Italy and Spain having fascist dictators, hell, the list of dictators that were/are not German is disgustingly long, the worldwide anti-semitism making surrounding countries apathetic or even sympathetic to the Nazis, etcetc.) and the aftermaths of WWII.

The Cardassians are not Nazis. (As an aside the Federation are not the brave allies, but that’s another post for another day.) I’ve seen them compared to the USSR - both by official writers and fandom - which I won’t comment on seeing as I am not from anywhere that was affected by that (I’m not East German, but I do have East German friends), but at least this points out that one cannot compare Cardassians to a specific atrocity that happened at a specific time with specific connotations surrounding it.

Is the Obsidian Order the Gestapo or another secret police? Which secret police? Is Garak “the good Nazi” trope - but then how does that align with Cardassians living under a repressive regime for centuries, not a few years, and therefore take into account an indoctrination and climate of fear created over several generations? No child “born” into the nazi regime became an adult while it was still lasting, unlike the Cardassians (and many other real life dictatorships and fascist states - as well as "democratic” states that have similar kinds of surveillance, oppression, mass-imprisonment and disappearances, and camps).

Is every Cardassian soldier a “nazi”? How does one compare that to polish and french prisoners (see Pierre Seel for a particular harrowing account, all the trigger warnings apply) who were forced to fight for the Germans and put on the front lines?

Eugenics, labour camps, and every other atrocity has been practised by numerous regimes, both in history and now, can we shrug off every country that’s participated in them for the sake of making the metaphor “easier”?

How does the aftermath of the Cardassian Union - when they’re attacked by the Klingons and themselves occupied by the Dominion and then have their main planet bombed to the point of millions dead - align with Nazi Germany?

5. It doesn’t.

It doesn’t. It doesn’t neatly align with any other fascist or military dictator-led regime either. This is not saying that there aren’t aspects obviously borrowed from history (and can easily apply to now). This is saying that in trying to bend the Cardassians into Nazis specifically, people are ignoring every other aspect about them and in my opinion doing a disservice to those who suffered under the actual regime. This is a fictional world, with fictional people that is based on an oppressive society template. It is also a fictional world in which the people themselves are oppressed (especially if you align with what’s written in Andy Robinson’s book) - I’ll be getting back to that point in a bit.

I would argue that making it “about Nazis” is too easy. This isn’t about “us” this is about “them” those evil bastards from wwii. It strips the Cardassian story of any current-day relevance. One can look no further than one’s own society to see people struggling against acknowledging histories, being treated as second-class citizens, etc. No need to go back in time to do so.

It also strips the Cardassians of any three-dimensionality. If they’re just villains then why are we rooting for their uprising to succeed at the end of season 7? Why do we want their society to flourish, their people to no longer have a broken court system, and their secret police to stop training and recruiting children if they’re Nazis, the convenient shorthand for über-evil?

Cardassia isn’t about a past society, it’s about our society. If we empathise with the Cardassians and don’t cast them as villains, then it’s a discussion about our own oppression and privilege. And it’s a damned good scifi allegory (even if I sometimes don’t think the writers and showrunners quite understand it themselves - death of the author and all that).

6. To conclude

I didn’t mention Bajor as much in this, because I was very focused on Cardassians, but I would argue that while there is value in casting them as “space Jews” (as I’ve seen here and there) because I understand the value of representation and I am not taking that away from anyone (I hope), similarly if one reads this take as the only valid one it ignores the reality of religious oppression on a wider scale and also that the Bajorans’ oppression at the hands of the Cardassians didn’t happen for the same reasons as the Jewish genocide at the hands of the Nazis - I would also argue that in making Cardassians = Nazis / Bajor = Jews, we similarly ignore that the Nazis were and are not alone in perpetuating anti-semitism, which kinda again leans into the “Good Federation (the Allies) Versus Evil Cardassians (Nazis) - because none of the Good Allied Countries have ever/are currently involved in persecution or dehumanisation *stares into the void*

And lastly - bringing back a point I made earlier about Cardassians themselves being oppressed by their own government - something that is often forgotten when people talk “Nazi tropes in genre fiction” is that the first country the Nazis occupied was Germany. I’m mentioning this, because it’s interesting in the metaphor, but it’s also conspicuously is absent in the simplification of how these reads are applied. It’s easy to cast the Cardassians as a whole as Bad People, but it makes for worse story-telling and has uncomfortable undertones of how the world reads Germany’s people as being at fault as a whole as well, without taking into account the specific events that we were globally complicit in - and once again the metaphor falls apart, because allegory doesn’t work so easily, and it shouldn’t.

TL; DR In general I am uncomfortable by “Nazi’s used as tropes” in any fictional world. One shouldn’t sacrifice analysis nor simplify history for the sake of making it easier to make a quick point about “bad guys” and forcing allegories into one shape makes them lose their power.

Also watch German films on Nazism and European ones on WWII if you’re looking for some better takes (also Cabaret, one of the best movies ever made).

#ds9 #st: ds9 #star trek #cardassia #bajor #cardassians #bajorans #ds9 meta #star trek meta #tw: nazi mention #tw: discussions about genocide #this is a looong breakdown basically summed up as *stop simplifying allegories*#but I've seen *nazi tropes' thrown around so casually not just here but in so much fiction that I kinda *nope*#so it feels like a post that I needed to get off my chest

83 notes · View notes

studiesof-fandom-primaryblog · 4 years ago

Text

The Journal of Fandom Studies

Volume 1, Number 2, 1 October 2013

Augmenting fan/academic dialogue: New directions in fan research by Paul Booth [DePaul University]

Fan studies as a discipline is still in its infancy. But even given this nascence, there have been significant shifts in the ways that it has theorized, studied and investigated fans over the first two and a half decades of research. As scholarship, fan studies has moved away from ethnographic investigations of fans as the main object of study to focus instead on the output of fan discourse as the key mode of examination. At the same time, scholars like Henry Jenkins and Matt Hills, both central to the discipline, have opened dialogue about the nature of the fan/academic, often called the ‘aca-fan’. This article uses the lens of aca-fandom to analyse fan answers to interview questions at a large Midwestern Doctor Who convention. Fans were asked about the role that fan studies has played in their life, how they perceive the study of fans and whether fan studies as an academic discipline has an effect on their fandom. The fans’ answers reflect a critical awareness of fandom but a general ignorance of fan studies. This article argues three points to take away from this. First, fan studies needs to refocus attention back onto fans themselves through ethnographic work. Second, the discipline needs to refocus its output less on esoteric academic titles and more on popular venues. Finally, fans and academics should engage in specific dialogue to open up avenues for new fannish and academic exploration.

A case of identity: Role playing, social media and BBC Sherlock by Ann McClellan [Plymouth State University]

Many fans of Sherlock Holmes are now extending their interest in the famous sleuth into the world of social media. In particular, the BBC’s modern adaptation, Sherlock, seems to have grabbed the public’s attention with multiple character role plays on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr. It remains unclear, however, whether to categorize these narratives as fan fiction or role play game. This article explores the genre differences between fan fiction and role play game and identifies specific genre characteristics that place social media fan narratives in the role play game category. While adaptation studies and much of fan fiction center on issues of fidelity to the source text, role play scholarship emphasizes recreating the world of the sourcetext. Role playing both expands the boundaries of the original series in that it provides viewers with more—more stories, more character development, more adventure—but it is also limited by the constraints of the original show’s characterization and overall narrative arc. Online role play characters must speak like their source characters, they must interact with other characters from the show in textually appropriate ways, and they must respond to new situations in ways that are consistent with their televisual counterparts. Looking specifically at BBC Sherlock role plays on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter, this article explores the ways in which contemporary audiences are using social media to challenge traditional understandings of genre, world building and fandom in order to approach a greater verisimilitude of play.

‘Drinking the Kool-Aid’ of cult TV: Fans, followers, and fringe religions in Strangers with Candy and Veronica Mars by David Scott Diffrient [Colorado State University]

This article explores episodes of the contemporary American television programmes Strangers with Candy (Comedy Central, 1999–2000) and Veronica Mars (UPN/CW, 2004–07) so as to ascertain and discursively frame the complex relationship between cults (or neo-religious organizations) and cult TV. Although different from one another in many respects, these two TV series share an interest in the cliquish formations of high-school life that divide students into warring camps of insiders and outsiders. Moreover, both programmes contain pivotal episodes in which the ritualistic practices of fictional cults are presented ambivalently – as a source of humour yet also as a gateway through which the unconventional female protagonists pass on their way to self-discovery. That journey has extraordinary resonance for fans or ‘followers’ of these programmes. As argued by Jonathan Gray in his recently published work on ‘affect, fantasy, and meaning’, fans and followers are viewers who are ‘most involved in their consumption’. As such, Strangers with Candy and Veronica Mars deserve scrutiny as steadfastly worshipped texts conducive to the kinds of meta-consumptive discourses and practices that might shed light on culturally entrenched attitudes related to neo-religious activities.

Community clip show: Examining the recursive collaboration between producers and viewers of a postmodern sitcom by Rekha Sharma [Kent State University]

In the new media landscape, exclusive communication within a TV show’s creative team or amongst its fans is no longer sufficient to maintain the continuation of the programme. Instead, a community arises through the collaboration of those behind the scenes and those in front of the screens. By utilizing interactive technologies, showrunners and audiences have redefined notions of media consumption and mass media. An illustrative case is NBC’s postmodern sitcom, Community (Harmon, 2009–). The show features metadiscourse on media production, responds to viewers’ feedback and preferred narratives and shares the creation of meaning with the audience. As a result, the show has developed an ardent following because viewers feel their concerns are directly addressed by the show’s creative team. Further, their contributions challenge the conventional belief that fan interpretations are merely secondary discourse to the primary television text, as Community fans’ works have helped shape the televised narrative. One episode, Season 2’s ‘Paradigms of Human Memory’, deals with the creators’ and viewers’ mutual conceptualization of time and reality encapsulated in the series.

‘I’m not a lawyer but …’: Fan disclaimers and claims against copyright law by Jenny Roth and Monica Flegel [Lakehead University]

Fan fiction has become increasingly widespread, and online discussions between fans about fan fiction and copyright reveal the extent to which fans are both governed by and resist copyright law, as they understand it. As complex agents both within and outside of law, writers and supporters of fan fiction reveal the problems of speaking against law from a position that is regulated by law, a position creative re-producers are forced to occupy in an increasingly copyrighted, patented and trademarked world. So long as those whom the law is meant to regulate see themselves as legitimate shapers of that law, even though they inhabit space outside the formal mechanisms of law or the legal world, the law will not be effective. When fans with little or no legal expertise invoke and interpret copyright, they reveal that copyright does not attend to the complex realities of creative production, nor the very active consumption, engagement with, and re-articulation of cultural artefacts and texts in society to effectively police at the grassroots level.

Continuing The West Wing in 140 characters or less: Improvised simulation on Twitter by Inger-Lise Kalviknes Bore and Jonathan Hickman [Birmingham City University]

Sharing some of the findings from a study of fans tweeting as characters from US TV drama The West Wing (NBC, 2000–2006), this article uses data from Twitter observation and fan interviews to examine how participants negotiated the structures of Twitter through this activity. In particular, we consider what implications that negotiation has for the resulting fan text; for how participants perform fandom through this medium; and for how they perceive the value of their fan practice. Through this investigation, the article demonstrates some of the ways in which Twitter facilitates and constrains articulations of audience engagement.

Keywords: Doctor Who; aca-fan; academy; convention; fan; interview; BBC Sherlock; Facebook; Sherlock Holmes; fan production; role play; social media; world building; Strangers with Candy; Veronica Mars; cult TV; cults; fandom; religion; active audiences; interactive media; postmodern sitcom; television fandom; textual poaching; virtual community; authorship and authority; copyright law and legal discourse; fan policing; fanfiction; law and society; producer/consumer relations; TV drama; Twitter; audiences; online communities; television.

#journal: jfs #text: academic paper #researcher: paul booth #researcher: ann mcclellan #researcher: david scott diffrient #researcher: rekha sharma #researcher: jenny roth #researcher: monica flegel #researcher: inger-lise kalviknes bore #researcher: jonathan hickman

17 notes · View notes

germanreich · 3 years ago

Text

Guren guren guren

Title: In the Absence of the Demon

Disclaimer: This is a fan-made translation from Chinese translations! Please go easy and enlighten us on any mistakes or deviations from the original light novel. All credit goes to the original author and illustrators. - Hyaka and Kuro Shion

——————————————————————————————

‘This is Ichinose Guren-sama.’

This was heard in one of the classroom of First Shibuya High School.

Until recently, everyone here should have been an enemy.

What greeted them originally was only scolding, ignoring and a cola bottle thrown from goodness knows where –

Opening the classroom door, there were a few students whispering in the corridor.

‘I heard he was selected as Kureto-sama’s direct subordinate.’

‘They say he was hiding his real strength, but was found out by Kureto-sama.’

‘He’s on good terms with Shinya-sama too, and his strength has even been acknowledged by those two from the Mito family and Goshi family.’

‘So which idiot said he was a rat from a bad family?!’

‘You said it yourself.’

‘No way! Stop joking!’

Guren himself, however, was ignoring those upsetting conversations. He sat at his desk, supporting his face with his hand and daydreaming. Evidently, he was lacking in sleep.

Overnight, he had been in the backseat of a car on the Tomei Expressway, bound for Tokyo via Aichi at 150 km per hour. During that time, his mind was fixated on what might happen in the future, and so he was unable to have a good sleep.

‘……’

Guren squinted his eyes, half-asleep, and gazed out the window.

Although it could not be felt in this classroom with its excellent air-conditioning, outside it was so hot that the scenery seemed to be enveloped in a heat haze.

Today was the 20th of August.

For normal schools, it would be summer vacation, but in this school there were no such holidays.

According to the news, the temperature these few days had set a new high. Why was it so hot? If the heat persisted, it might lead to stored food going bad, but since the world was going to end this Christmas anyway, to worry about food going bad would be utterly meaningless.

‘…… Guren. Guren!’

Someone called his name.

But Guren did not notice and continued to look out the window.

The owner of the voice grew angry and forcefully rapped the table.

‘Hey, Ichinose Guren! Why are you ignoring my questions?’

Impatiently, Guren glanced towards the source of the noise. There stood a girl from his class.

Her most noticeable characteristics were her bright red hair, strong gaze and pale white skin.

This was the daughter of the prestigious Jujo family – Jujo Mito.

She continued to speak.

‘Every day, you don’t train and you always have this dazed, dumb attitude…… has the fame from being noticed by Kureto-sama made you so arrogant?’

‘…… Who’s arrogant?’

Guren countered, and Mito angrily replied.

‘I’m talking about you! Ichinose Guren. In class you act as there is no one around you, during physical education and spells class you don’t use your true strength. What on earth do you want!?’

Faced with these questions, Guren was troubled over how to answer. In the first place, the content covered in class here were already below his intellectual level. There was simply nothing worth learning.

However, everyone here was his enemy, so there was no need to let all his enemies see his true strength.

And so, every day, Guren acted lazy and pretended to be a half wit – but even if he explained all this she would definitely still not understand.

In the Hiiragi family, to have value or to be famous – in the eyes of the people here, this was something to be celebrated.

Hence, for Guren to become arrogant or proud was not surprising, for this was something that was worth feeling proud over.

So was it better to act out that happiness? However, be it his terrible attitude or hidden true strength, both had already been seen through by Kureto, so was it still necessary to hide everything to such a degree?

In the midst of pondering all these, unexpectedly –

‘……Uwah~’

A yawn leaked out of his mouth.

This angered Mito even more.

‘What kind of attitude is that?’

‘Your yelling is making my ears hurt.’

‘First of all, just now during physical training, I saw that you lost to a classmate in an instant…… How can this be? Your strength shouldn’t be so low!’

Guren shrugged.

‘No, I really do only have that much strength.’

She grew even more furious.

‘And that is exactly the kind of attitude that gives others a headache!’

‘Headache? Why? You have no reason to have a headache.’

Mito spoke intensely.

‘Of course I do! If you laze about, those from prestigious families who hang out with you will also be laughed at and shamed, haven’t you noticed?’

No wonder she was so angry.

In other words, being Kureto’s subordinate, Guren was now grouped with Jujo and Goshi, so if his bad attitude were to be seen, he would also drag down the reputations of the others.

Guren smiled and said.

‘Why do I have to be concerned about your reputation too?’

‘That is because…… We are all Kureto-sama’s subordinates, in future we will also be companions working together, so……’

However, Guren was no longer listening.

Companions.

They were companions?

Kureto-sama’s subordinates, companions?

This was certainly fortunate, to be personally chosen by Kureto-sama to be one of his underlings.

This thought surfaced in his mind.

‘…… Haha.’

Guren laughed in a self-depreciating way, before yawning and continuing to support his head with his hand.

‘Hey Guren!’

Mito called.

The male sitting nearby began to laugh.

Hiiragi Shinya.

‘Come on, Mito-chan, don’t bug him anymore. It’s not like his laziness and disappointing attitude is anything new.’

Mito showed a respectful face to those of the Hiiragi family.

‘Ah, Shinya-sama. However……’

‘Anyway, to someone of his caliber, the curriculum taught at this school must be pointless. Right? Guren? Don’t you agree?’

‘……’

When Guren ignored Shinya, Mito grew angry again.

‘Hey, you! How dare you ignore Shinya-sama’s words!’

Hearing this furious shout, the people outside started to whisper again.

‘Hey, looks like that rumor was true. He really is on good terms with Shinya-sama and that girl from the Jujo family.’

‘So, does that mean that rebellious Ichinose branch family has sworn allegiance to the Hiiragi family… to Kureto –sama?’

Hearing that voice,

‘……’

Guren once more stared out the window and gently bit his lip.

In the past, the Ichinose family had been the most loyal to the Hiiragi family, and among the branch families had been the most prestigious and powerful.

But 500 years ago – they split with the Hiiragi family, and set up the religious sect ‘Mikado no Tsuki’.

With regard to the situation then, there were no exact reports, but the reason for this was something everyone knew well.

The lone reason, was simple a love story.

A heart-rending love story.

There had once been a beautiful Ichinose girl, the Hiiragi’s eldest and second sons both vied for her favor.

After a series of complicated events, the girl’s affection was successfully gained by the second son.

According to legend, the eldest son was unable to accept this reality.

Thus one night, the eldest son raped the girl, impregnated her and had the second son castrated.

After that, the eldest son had his own son, the girl and the second son cast out of the family.

The exiled second sun, together with the Ichinose girl, then set up the new religious sect ‘Mikado no Tsuki’.

However, their defeat was still apparent.

After all, when all was said and done, the eldest son was still heir to the Hiiragi family.

The one leading ‘Mikado no Oni’, was the heir to the Hiiragi family.

However, the eldest son did not destroy the organization set up by the second son and the Ichinose girl.

The reason for this, was to humiliate them.

So that the Ichinose girl who had not chosen him, and the younger brother who had betrayed him, would be laughed at and scorned for eternity.

He allowed them to live to suffer humiliation.

To allow their descendants to always bear the scorn of others.

Of course, the castrated second sun could not produce children with the girl.

Hence, the child born of the rape by the eldest son – the Hiiragi boy became the adopted son and heir of ‘Mikado no Tsuki’.

The second son was always scorned.

The girl was always scorned.

The two of them continued to deeply love the other. Yet everything other than this was taken away.

Everyone in the families scorned them.

Humiliated them.

This was the price of betrayal.

The price of betraying the Hiiragi family.

And so, everyone in the families became used to scorning the Ichinose family.

That was why the Ichinose were always rats.

From the moment they were born, they were dirty, smelly rats.

Only, after a long time, all this simply became urban legend.

To the new generation’s Guren and those of the Hiiragi family, this was no longer a topic of importance.

That was why Kureto could calmly issue orders to Guren. The eldest son of the Hiiragi family, had forgiven the Ichinose family.

While this could be seen as violating tradition, it was still a reasonable thing to do. Anyway, things like the ancestors’ love stories, no one really cared about.

Being the loner among the ten families comprising the Ichinose, Nii, Sanguu, Shijin, Goshi, Rikudou, Shichikai, Hakke, Kuki and Jujo, the Ichinose should be the strongest.

If that family would follow Kureto-sama today – this was important enough to be a significant topic of discussion.

It could also be due to his controlling nature that Kureto-sama took Guren under his wing.

Recess was coming to an end, class would resume soon.

Hence, Mito huffily returned to her seat.

As she did so, she was also teased by Goshi.

‘You really don’t learn, huh. Why bother with Guren? Or do you like him……’

‘Shut up!’

Goshi had only said halfway before he was slapped.

Goshi laughed.

However, the rest of the class dared not to laugh. They were afraid of the revenge that came from laughing at a member of the elite families.

And so, everyone could only show kind, sincere smiles.

In the end, whether it was Jujo or Goshi, they were both venerated by the others.

The teacher was already standing on the teacher’s platform. The fourth period of the day began.

This class was on the ways to counter and deal with Western magic, a topic in which Guren had little interest.

Shinya, sitting next to him, lightly tapped his shoulder.

‘Hey Guren.’

‘……’

‘Hey.’

‘So noisy.’

‘Well, this is class. So try to speak softer, okay?’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

But Shinya pulled his chair closer, leaned on Guren and whispered in his ear.

‘…… If I’m speaking so softly, will I anger the teacher?’

Guren turned with a face full of irritation.

Shinya was still smiling widely. In this school, there were no teachers who dared show wrath towards those who bore the Hiiragi name, Shinya was only saying this for fun.

Guren did not say a word. Shinya annoying him was also perfectly normal, there was no need to respond.

Yet Shinya did not seem to care and continued to whisper in his ear.

‘Tonight, <Hyakuya Sect> will come. So where shall we meet up?’

In this instant, Guren could not help the widening of his eyes.

His gaze locked onto Shinya.

This was not something that should be said in a school run by ‘Mikado no Oni’.

If they were to be overheard, they would immediately be arrested and tortured.

However, Shinya was still wearing his usual smile. Evidently, before saying these words he had already made untold preparations.

If so,

‘……Don’t scare me like that.’ Said Guren. Shinya grinned again.

‘That’s because it’s not good for you to always ignore people and even make Mito-chan angry.’

‘Stop joking around. I’m not interested in playing around with you.’

Guren said, directing a stern gaze at Shinya.

‘I’m not joking. I’m also not interesting in silly games.’

Guren stared at Shinya.

Shinya merely smiled and let Guren stare.

Guren had no inclination to trust Shinya.

Shinya had given him the piece of the chimaera called <Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse> that Mahiru had left behind, so to some extent he could be trusted, but if he let down his guard, he might be taken advantage of.

Therefore, it was necessary to act cautiously.

‘……’

Guren did not reply.

Taking the initiative, Shinya placed a piece of paper on the table. On it was written the address for rendezvous that night.

Shinya had left his fingerprints on this paper. If Guren gave it to Kureto, the place where they were to meet the <Hyakuya Sect> would be ambushed by the Hiiragi family, and Shinya would also be killed that day.

In other words, Shinya had exposed his weakness to his opponent.

With a shocked expression, Guren asked.

‘…… Why do you trust me?’

Shinya smiled.

‘Why don’t you instead say that you’re amazed at my alertness.’

‘Because your face annoys me.’

‘Ahaha. Even though I look so friendly?’

‘Shut up.’

‘….. Anyway, you may know nothing about me, but I’ve always heard about you.’

‘……’

‘Ever since I was young. From the time I first met Mahiru… Because, she always talks about you.’

Shinya said thus.

Guren smiled coldly.

‘Then, did you go mad with jealously? You really like Mahiru, right?’

In response, Shinya smiled lightly.

‘To be accurate, I have good feelings towards Hiiragi, but I don’t like her to that extent.’

‘……Humph.’

‘But, I really am jealous of you.’

‘Huh? Why?’

‘I’ve always been imagining what you were like. I wondered about if you were to appear before me, which of us would be stronger, and what you looked like, etcetera.’

This made Guren remember.

When he first entered the school, Shinya launched a surprise attack on him.

Of course, even now he could not ascertain the truth of his words, but maybe to some extend he was trustworthy.

Even so.

Guren picked up the paper Shinya left on his table and slipped it into his pocket, taking care to preserve Shinya’s fingerprints on its surface.

This action that purposely preserved the fingerprints was noticed by Shinya, who smiled.

‘How prudent.’

‘To avoid the fate of the trash that is not street-smart and is disposed of.’

Hearing him say this, Shinya was a little upset, and said.

‘…… That self-pitying talk…… If it were Mahiru she would definitely put on an annoyed expression, why on earth does she like you?’

‘Maybe my face looks friendlier?’

When Guren said this, Shinya looked at him in apparent surprise.

‘…… Ha, hahaha.’

He laughed.

Guren cast his gaze outside the window.

The schoolyard, as expected, was filled with dry heat.

It was summer.

Summer.

If this world were to end on Christmas day, this would be the last summer ever.

———————————————————

After class and club activities were over, the phone rang.

The caller ID read <Hiragi Kureto>.

The main candidate to be the Hiiragi heir, the student council president that no one in school could disobey.

After pressing the ‘Answer’ button, he heard the other’s voice.

‘What?’

‘No. Is there anything you need of me, Kureto-sama – that is how you should say it.’

‘Do you like oppressing your subordinates that much?’

‘Nah, just joking.’

‘Your jokes aren’t funny at all. Have you been spoilt so much by the higher-ups that your brain has also spoilt? (TN: Hurhur, pun intended)

‘Hahaha, do you want to die?’

‘I dare you to try. Do you think it’s such an easy feat?’

‘……No. But, you know, I really like that attitude of yours.’

‘Sigh~ What attitude do you like?’

‘Although your way of speaking is very sharp, when you cannot win against me you clearly recognize your own status; this attitude.’

‘……’

Guren did not respond. Because this was a fact. Right now, he could not afford to be surrounded by enemies.

‘Mikado no Tsuki’ could not afford ‘Mikado no Oni’ as an enemy.

This was not a simple child’s fight. Even if he attained victory with his sword, it would be meaningless.

If the people he respected and treasured were labelled as criminals, even the pregnant would not be spared.

Just like 500 years ago.

The situation had not changed at all.

Mito and Goshi, who had finished packing and were ready to go home, walked over.

Goshi saw Guren and snickered.

‘Making a call right after school ends, could it be your girlfriend.’

Mito overheard this, and –

‘……What!?’

For some reason she stared at Guren.

Guren ignored her and continued to talk on his phone.

‘Anyway, what do you want?’

‘During lunch break tomorrow, come to the student council room.’

‘No.’

‘Haha, you don’t have the right to refuse. See you tomorrow.’

‘Bleh.’

Before hearing the sound of Guren sticking out his tongue, Kureto ended the call.

Shinya, who was sitting beside him, lifted his head to ask.

‘Kureto-nii?’

‘My girlfriend.’

Hearing this, Mito rushed over.

‘…… Wait, wait a minute! You’re still in training, how could you engage in such leisure activities as dating?’

What on earth was this girl saying.

Guren stared at her with an irritated expression, before sighing and ignoring her. Mito was immediately angered and glared at him forcefully. Seeing this, Goshi burst out laughing for some reason.

Guren did not take notice and instead scooped up his bag and left his seat.

Behind him, Mito muttered angrily.

‘Why is he rushing off just because a girl called him? What rubbish.’

Hiding a smile, Shinya told Mito.

‘That call just now was from Kureto-nii.’

‘Eh? What, really?’

Shinya had overheard.

‘Are you going to the student council room now?’

Guren shook his head.

‘No, tomorrow, during lunch break.’

But hearing him say this, Mito was even more unsettled.

‘Wait, wait, you really talked to Kureto-sama like that? That question just now……’

‘How annoying.’

‘What annoying! Wait……’

To the sounds of Mito raging, Guren left the classroom. It seemed that Mito was not yet done ranting, so Guren bluntly closed the door.

In the corridor, Sayuri and Shigure were already waiting for him. They were now in the class just next dor.

‘Ah, ah, Guren-sama. We have been waiting for you!’

Shigure then spoke coldly.

‘Did those disreputable people from the Hiiragi family do anything to you today?’

Behind him was Mito who was complaining ‘Those who are disrespectful to Kureto-sama will blah blah blah’, now, in front of him was his aide who was calling the Hiiragi family disreputable.

Half wanting to burst out laughing, Guren resisted and replied.

‘Nothing at all. Just as usual.’

Sayuri still showed a worried expression.

‘What do you mean, as usual? Did someone throw a cola bottle at you?’

Shigure’s face immediately went cold.

‘If so, we must kill everyone in the Hiiragi family.’

From her uniform skirt, she pulled out a knife. She was serious.

But Sayuri did not notice this and spoke cheerfully as usual.

‘Oh yeah, Guren-sama! What do you want to eat? Whatever Guren-sama wants to eat, I can make it……’

‘Curry.’

‘Eh, again~?’

At this moment, the classroom door opened. Mito walked out and noticed Shigure’s cold glare.

‘Ah, Yukimi-san…… Such a scary expression, has something happened?’

‘No, nothing at all.’

‘Even so, it is better to speak of happy things here. As such, there are some things Yukimi-san should also tell Guren. With the disrespectful manner in which he treats Kureto-sama, right now Guren’s position is not very good.’

However, Shigure directed her cold glare at Mito and answered.

‘Guren-sama did not do anything wrong.’

‘Being his aide you always cover up for him……’

‘Outsiders have no right to criticize the master of my house. Your voice is very piercing, can you keep it down a little?’

‘……Uh.’

And so Mito embarrassedly silenced herself, casting a silent plea for help towards Guren.

‘Why’re you looking at me?’

Guren said, which made her blush for no reason.

‘…… I, I only, I was only thinking for your sake……’

‘Don’t pry into others’ matters.’

Goshi walked out from behind Mito.

‘Alright, stop teasing Mito-chan. Today’s that day right? The day that everyone plays nice and goes to Guren’s house to play, right? So let’s all get along.’

But this was the first time Guren had heard of such a thing.

‘Huh? What’s up with that?’

Guren burst out. Grinning, Goshi explained.

‘Well~ you see, we’re all united as Kureto-sama’s subordinates, so sometimes we should get closer right?’

‘No, never heard of that.’

‘Yes. Okay. Since I have just come up with such a brilliant idea, let’s all go to Guren’s place.’

‘Stop kidding. That would obviously never happen.’

Unfortunately, yet another nuisance emerged from the classroom, this time it was Shinya who walked out.

‘What, what? Such an interesting idea. I also want to go~’

His expression filled with annoyance, Guren whipped around to leave.

‘What idiots. Let’s go.’

And so he left, which Shigure and Sayuri following.

However, Sayuri occasionally glanced back over her shoulder.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, Guren asked.

‘……Are those three following?’

‘Yes.’

‘…… Haa, those idiots really took it seriously.’

Shigure lifted her head to ask.

‘Should I destroy them?’

‘If you can even shake off Mito, that would be not bad already.’

‘…… That is true…… Uuu…… I am not strong enough, I am very sorry……’

‘No, forget it, I’m not angry or anything.’

Guren gently petted Shigure’s head, causing her to look at him in surprise. On her usually emotionless face, a dazed expression seemed to emerge.

Compared to this, the reaction from the side was much bigger. Sayuri’s face was filled with panic.

‘Ah! Ah! What was that just now! Shigure is so sneaky. Me too! I also want to be petted by Guren-sama!’

But Shigure grabbed and restrained Sayuri’s hand, saying.

‘…… No. Last time Sayuri confessed to Guren-sama and was petted, this time it’s my turn.’

‘Eh~ Yuki-chan is so sneaky. I also want to be petted.’

‘No.’

‘But, but.’

They argued so, but the two aides were already showing expressions of understanding.

When petting Shigure’s head earlier, Guren had slipped the paper Shinya had given him behind Shigure’s ear. On it was written the time and location of the meeting.

2am.

Hikarigaoka Park.

In front of the tennis practice courts.

This was the meeting with the <Hyakuya Sect>. Naturally, the name <Hyakuya Sect> was not written on this paper, but there would definitely be preparations to be made. Weapons had to be readied. Or perhaps they would have to move stealthily and not let anyone notice.

Shigure spoke.

‘Putting the jokes aside, today I need to take in the laundry, so I shall head back first. What about you, Sayuri?’

‘I need to go the supermarket. Today, everyone……’

She glanced back. Guren confirmed it.

‘Probably so. That bunch is very annoying, we can’t shake them off.’

‘I see. Then just to be on the safe side, I will prepare their shares too.’

As Sayuri said this, Goshi snuck over.

‘Ah, to be able to eat Sayuri-chan’s homemade cooking? I’m really looked forward to it.’

Sayuri answered his smile with a cold aura, before saying.

‘Then I shall prepare curry, Guren-sama.’

With this parting statement, she turned and quickly walked away with Shigure.

Seeing them leave, Goshi sped up to walk side by side with Guren.

‘…… Guren you really are sneaky~ to have two such cute girls serve as your aides.’

Shinya also walked side by side with Guren.

‘You could just ask your family for the same.’

‘Ah, Shinya-sama… Nah, I’m not as good as my younger brother. Actually, they don’t really think much of me……’

‘But now you are Kureto-nii’s subordinate.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s true. After that all my attendants’ attitudes towards me changed, but that immediate change is what’s repulsive…… It feels like my brother is also more nervous……’

The two people by Guren’s side chatted as they walked.

‘You’ve really made up your mind to come to my house?’

As Guren asked this, Goshi nodded.

‘Yeah. Can we?’

Shinya then smiled.

‘Ah, is it that? You’ve hidden many R-rated books in your house, so us visiting is a problem for you?

Actually, it was not because of hidden porn magazines that he felt trapped. Even if it were people from the Hiiragi family who came to check, they would still not find anything of significance.

Why did Goshi suddenly want to visit Guren’s home? Shinya had also taken notice of this issue.

No matter how you put it, today was the day that they might meet the <Hyakuya Sect>.

Was it possible that Kureto had found out about this –

That the meeting tomorrow afternoon in the student council room was just a cover, and that he actually knew that they were meeting the <Hyakuya Sect> today.

Guren directly interrogated Goshi.

‘…… Were you ordered by Kureto to keep surveillance on me?’

Shinya looked over at Guren and Goshi. Evidently, he had also been thinking about this.

Goshi shrugged.

‘Nope. I haven’t gotten any instructions from Kureto-sama.’

‘Then why do you suddenly want to come to my house?’

‘Because we are companions.’

‘Huh?’

‘We are also classmates, if this were a normal school, it would be the summer holidays now.’

‘So?’

‘It’s the time for everyone to play together. Right?’

However, Guren wore an expression of complete befuddlement and shook his head.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

Goshi laughed.

‘Really? Okay, the truth is that~ I got scolded by my parents yesterday.’

‘Parents? What did they say, that you have to gain as much of Kureto’s favor as the Ichinose?’

Goshi shook his head.

‘No, no, the opposite actually. They said that the Ichinose trash are still traitors and will soon be shunned again, so I should not associate with them so much.’

His parents certainly had foresight, thought Guren in his heart. However, it seemed that Goshi intended to ignore his parents’ criticism.

‘You should listen to your parents, or you’ll become bad.’

‘So what if I’m bad.’

‘You rebellious rascal.’

‘Haha, just like those who steal motorcycles for a joy ride? That also seems like a great activity for summer~’

‘Go die.’

‘Hahaha’

Goshi laughed.

From the side, Shinya asked.

‘Does Goshi have a motorcycle licence?’

‘Ah, no. What about Shinya-sama?’

‘Me neither. But I can ride one during training.’

‘Ah, me too~ but it’s more fun to take the public’s possessions? I also want to ride a motorcycle bike.

Even as they conversed, they continued to follow Guren. Obviously, they planned to follow him home.

In the middle of Shinya and Goshi’s discussion of motorcycles, Mito spoke.

‘…… Can I, um, ask you something?’

It seemed that she also intended to follow Guren home.

‘…… Um, just now, you petted Yukimi-san’s head.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ah, that…… that……’

‘What about it?’

Mito was having trouble forcing the words out.

‘…… The two of you, uh, are going out?’

‘Ah?’

‘Uh, or is that even if you are not officially dating you would touch your subordinates so tenderly? Or unless, unless, even at night……’

‘What are you saying?’

‘To lay a hand on your subordinates who cannot disobey you, what kind of person are you……’

‘You’re really noisy.’

Guren let out a sigh and stopped listening.

This group of rascals, what were they up to since just now? Their inane chatter was just like that of normal school students. In the first place, to play with friends, this idea was something Guren could not understand. To gather at his house, what did they want?

Was it to play poker?

‘……Good grief.’

They walked out of school.

The weather was the usual oppressive heat.

There were still students training in school. This was the type of school it was. Even if the <Hyakuya Sect> attacked and decreased the school population, no one would stop to rest.

The order to lockdown all information had yet to be rescinded. Only the few in the higher ranks knew about their state of war with the <Hyakuya Sect>.

Even so, small conflicts were taking place unceasingly. Not just in Japan, but even in the branch organizations all over the world, fights were starting to take place.

Hence, to say that the headquarters of ‘Mikado no Oni’ in Shibuya was the most peaceful place left on earth might not be a lie.

Even the <Hyakuya Sect> could not easily lay siege to Shibuya.

However, this school with its concealed traitors was a different story.

As Guren looked around the school, he thought of all the things Mahiru had done.

About dyeing this school crimson with the blood of students, and the things he had done in his youth.

Mito noticed his distant gaze.

‘……Time passes really quickly, huh.’

Was Mito also comparing the schoolyard before her eyes to the scenes of that day?

The scenes of blood and corpses everywhere.

‘Yeah. That’s true.’

It seemed like he had made no progress forward at all, but time was already slipping away.

Mito spoke.

‘In this short time, I’ve already been saved by you twice.’

‘It was just luck.’

She laughed bitterly and lifted her head to gaze at Guren.

‘…… You said it was by luck, but wasn’t it because of it that you ended up grievously injured and comatose for a month?’

‘I was just careless. Furthermore, sleeping is my hobby.’

‘You’re always cracking jokes to change the subject…… But, Guren.’

Saying this, she gripped a small piece of the back of Guren’s shirt.

‘……I really want to show my gratefulness. So, I want to repay you.

‘Repayment, huh. Like how?’

‘…… Like, until the day Kureto-sama officially acknowledges you, and gives you the position of honor you deserve in ‘Mikado no Oni’, I will always support you.’

Nosing into affairs that were not hers – this is what Guren thought, but did not say aloud.

‘…… Furthermore, the current Guren, father would never accept……’

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing, just talking to myself.’

For some reason she stepped back shyly.

Guren really couldn’t understand her feelings.

He could not understand Goshi’s feelings either.

Why care about the Ichinose trash? Why support him? In Aiichi, the research on Kiju, that if discovered by the Hiiragi family would be severely punished, had already begun.

Yet this bunch of people trusted him so easily.

Companions? Friends? To gain position under Kureto? These kinds of words were too foolish.

It was just as Goshi’s parents had said, the traitorous Ichinose family that was rotten to the core, was too dangerous to get close to.

But even so they said they wanted to be friends. They said that they wanted to deepen their friendship as fellow subordinates of Kureto. It seemed that they did not suspect him as all, and were still innocent and happy in their roles as the young mistress and master that were coveted by their families.

‘……’

Could he kill these two with his own hands?

Guren mulled over this in his head.

Because they were enemies, enemies of the Ichinose family, there would come a day when it had to end. When that time came, could he do it with his own two hands?

In Ueno he had not killed them. That should have been the time to do it, yet he could not. Whether or not this was the right thing to do, he had no idea. It was not a matter of principle. The point was that he should have acted, but he could not.

– I couldn’t do it.

‘……’

This sentence reverberated in his head.

Once again he recalled Kureto’s words to him.

‘Although your way of speaking is very sharp, when you cannot win against me you clearly recognize your own position.’

Kureto had said this before.

But was it the truth?

His ambition was ultimately just empty talk, if Shigure and Sayuri were to be captured and held as hostages, would his ambition be so easy dispelled?

Or was it that he still held such an innocent way of thinking that he could not even kill Mito and Goshi?

If so, he should just discard his ambition. For he had already dragged in his comrades in the Ichinose.

The war had already begun.

It had already begun long ago.

Despite all this, Goshi exhibited no anxiety at all, and asked with a face filled with expectation.

‘Hey, is your place far away?’

‘If I say it’s far will you go home?’

‘No way.’

Guren sighed.

‘It’s not that far…….’ He replied tiredly.

Translator’s comments

Hyaka: The history of the Ichinose and Hiiragi is so dark. Guren can also be very dark. Also, why is Guren so popular? First Mahiru, then Shinya, then Mito, not to mention Yuu-kun, Shigure and Sayuri…

K. Shion: Cos he is Guren that’s why. .__.

2 notes · View notes

deliciousscaloppine · 4 years ago

Text

Hot Takes Galore: A brief overview of fandom backlashes that influenced fanfiction writing traditions as I have personally experienced them:

In today’s segment I am going to talk about copyright infringement.

First let me preface this by saying I have only ever been in 3 fandoms, starting from 2008 and I have never been terribly active - like this blog has been the most active I’ve ever been in any fandom ever. I am not going to talk about particular fandom dramas because I am pretty clueless about that. What I am going to talk about is that friction between “reality” and online spaces that brought about changes that are still in effect today in the way fanfiction is written and perceived.

In 2008 as I was entering, nearly every piece of fanfiction had a disclaimer about the author not owning the characters, which were the property of Corporate Entity X, or Author Y, and also not profiting from the work in any shape or form. At the time getting money from writing fanfiction was a gigantic taboo, and almost no one did it, or advertised that they did.

But as I understand through convention culture printed writing did circulate in exchange for money (zines), and at least in Japan one could sell doujinshis (self-published stories and comics, often within the framework of another work) in certain events. Although this was largely considered “illegal” under copyright laws, and artists could be persecuted or blacklisted from entering the industry if discovered. That’s also why fanartists often to this day may screen where and when their work is viewed, and move to take down reposts, or call others to protest if artworks are circulated without permission outside of the artist’s page.

Older fandom people also hated authors that moved against fanfiction, a big case being Anne Rice, the vampire lady everyone - including me - copies when writing about vampires. And now I am going to talk a little about that.

Usually, writers, just sit somewhere cosy and write, and often they have no idea, absolutely no idea, on how to manage their writing properties - usually a lawyer does that, and lawyers want A Lot Of Money (A brief brush with justice and lawyers over a civil dispute I won, cost me 1000 euros out of nowhere, in a single day, and no I couldn’t avoid it because I was the accused one, so I had to appear with some representation).

So sometimes, quite often, it’s a lawyer that activates a writer or other artist to move against “smaller” copyright infringements, in order to make bank. And if one suffers such a case, they should make it as apparent as possible to the other party that they have no money, and the pressure will go away immediately. But even MORE OFTEN a small copyright infringement, may lead to a sequence of bigger ones, and ultimately the de facto loss of rights from one’s writing properties, and of course revenue.

And for a lot of published authors, they just don’t know for how long they can publish things - publishing houses that have them signed can close, book sales can drop, tastes change, personal problems, and anything else may mean that they could find themselves without a source of income at any point in the future, while they are aging and becoming more and more irrelevant.

A very famous case currently, is that of Alan Dean Foster, the writer who has done some novelizations for movies like Star Wars and Alien, and is no longer receiving revenue from that - while his wife is hospitalized and their family needs the income - because Disney absorbed the company that had signed the contract with him, and chose to not honor the previous contract. To make them pay he will have to go into a huge legal battle with a corporate giant, which he cannot afford. But they still absorb income from these novelizations.

But how does fanfiction tie into that, and Anne Rice’s case (which if memory serves right, also went through a series of personal problems, including her husband’s death during that time).

So for a lot of writers, fanfiction may be that tiny breach that may threaten their rights in the future from tresspases of distribution networks. Meaning, people write vampire fanfiction based on Anne Rice’s work? What if another publishing house used the template of her works (historical settings, bleeding orifices, religious themes, homosexuality and sexual trauma etc) and produced a royalty free series of such works with a team of professional writers that do not own the work - who often have less rights, like not owning the characters, or the storylines, participating in a very small scale, so their payment goes down etc)

And in this way EVERYONE SUFFERS. Big Name Published Author fades into obscurity and goes into poverty and payroll writers are horrifically abused.

A lot of hobbyists, and hobbyist writers whose sole dream is to be published in some shape or form, do not really care, and do not concern themselves with the legal aspect of creation, or the technical skill that it takes to produce writing on a consistent basis, which can only happen if you’ve got your basic needs covered. So they might see this type of backlash as inherently privileged.

But it’s not really a privilege, there has been a global recession in basic working rights for everyone, and lovers of fiction don’t have to condone, of course, attacks against them, but they need to put that kind of backlash in perspective. Someone did write the content you enjoy, THEY ARE NOT DEAD YET, and may have opinions on how it should be managed, especially when it pertains to their livelihood.

It’s a delicate balance that we all must keep in order to keep corporate regulations out of it.

For instance with the recent danmei explosion The Untamed brought forth, Ao3 was banned in China. Now a lot of you might know that this was caused by some real person fic involving the actor Xiao Zhan, which led to a whole other level of drama. But make no mistake this was a political act to protect the interests of the domestic publishing industry as it prepares to do an international opening that will bring in several billions from foreign markets.

Because Ao3 has been expanding as a platform globally it brings about changes, and in many cases steals readers away from traditional publishing, so it becomes unacceptable economically for a bunch of hobbyists to influence tastes, market mores, and create sensationalism around certain properties out of literally the blue. This is not a good thing for a lot of corporate thinking, they set the product and we are supposed to buy it. We are not supposed to go, it would look greater with a bunch of anal, and then put forth a million words altering the character of the intellectual property.

Why you ask? Again, because another publishing industry might choose to imitate the style of danmei fanfics and produce works that hijack readership, or lead to breach of contracts, making an unsafe environment for workers in this industry (Xiao Zhan’s case.)

Nowadays I see more and more fanfic authors coming out of their shell to ask money for writing in the form of donations, patronage and commissions, as fandom involvement is also becoming vastly monetized. The market of conventions coming into social media platforms. A strange more exists still in which while “legally wrong”, as long as money is not asked on the publishing platform (Ao3), it may not count as copyright infringement. But fanfic authors, may still be treated with hostility for this, for not “deserving” to profit from someone else’s properties, or even worse for “stealing” readership.

For instance a recent argument I have seen from lgbtq authors, is that they remain unsupported by fandom spaces, who often proclaim themselves as lgbtq or lgbtq friendly (something that is not true), but at the same time they are not looking for published lgbtq stories, or authors, or even treat these with open hostility, or a lot of bias.

Fandom is not comprised from “readers” in the traditional sense, definitely not friends of literature, and it’s free, no one really has to pay anything to read a published fanfic. So it’s a pretty loose demographic with no set characteristics, and no interest in investing time and money in something for long. It’s an online social activity and not a readers’ movement, highly influenced by peer pressure and branding. It’s basically a gigantic group of people who don’t really do anything for no one, and may develop a parasitic connection to intellectual properties (I am sorry peers, it’s the truth).

And it’s perhaps the biggest counterculture scene at the moment in the developed world. To this day it treats even its own authors with tremendous suspicion, disregard and dismissal, meaning that even if someone can get some money and recognition locally through writing fanfic they are on thin fucking ice at all times for all the reasons but mostly attracting unnecessary attention to themselves and subsequently the scene. A pattern that we will see is endemic to all forms of fandom backlashes.

So to this day in contrast with fanart, fan writers may not be compensated for their troubles, but may also be ousted from their domestic professional spaces for writing fanfic that may infringe on their intellectual property.

The thing is, for me, that fandom culture can become incredibly supportive of corporate practices that harm actual people (writers, they are people too) but when they realize that the same corporate practices may be used against them, it’s too late to realize that it’s not a lottery of who wins by crying more, and by the time that happens, a corporation or industry who has used them to do its dark bidding, can stop catering to them because ultimately they have become again irrelevant once a well defined demographic of readers and viewers has been secured.

So if you are going to do counterculture, at least do it right. Be respectful of the writers/authors of the content you consume and mindful of their troubles, do not generate public strife that brings in political regulation in favor of corporate interests. Become interested in writing culture, support your fanfic authors with lasting engagement in their work, even if it escapes the narrow confines of a certain fandom. It’s simple. Eat, live, pray, fuck, or something.

#fandom history?

7 notes · View notes

imnotwolverine · 5 years ago

Text

Ready, set, …

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: Set life has its quirks and challenges. A fluffy, smutty Henry fanfiction to get you through the week. Bedroom fun found at the end. Ps. I should start thinking of a name for this series, any good suggestions?

Word count: 5.832

Disclaimer: smut and fluff

---

This is part 3 of the Tea for Two story.

Find the masterlist here.

---

< Back to part 2

An early alarm clock went. 5 am. I heard Henry groan as he rubbed his eyes. ‘Fuck.’ He moped softly, pushing himself off the bed and silencing the alarm. I looked at his naked, muscular, slightly hairy form, grasping for clothes. Kal got up yawning and stretching in turn. The morning ritual. I looked at Henry sleepily. ‘Early shoot?’ I whispered. He rumbled. ‘They changed lines. I forgot that meant an early day.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping some hair from my face. ‘Hello princess.’ He said softly. ‘Well, you go do your Witchy things then. I’ll see you soon.’ I rumbled. He smiled, bending over to kiss me. ‘And we might need some new condoms at your place…just in case.’ He nodded at the dusty pack of condoms that lay discarded on the night stand. I chuckled as he kissed me more deeply. Tongues fighting. He moved on top of me, his weight pressing me down. ‘Mmpff.’ He huffed in frustration. ‘Alright.’ He sighed and nodded while unwillingly getting up. ‘Time to go. Come on Kal. See you dear.’ He blew a kiss and left. Moments later I heard the door closing behind him softly.

The first few days flew by. It was less erratic at work. Much more hectic personally. Somehow press really got air of something happening. We saw tele lenses sticking out of bushes, the odd journalist jumping us when we were drinking tea outside of the warehouses in a short break. ’Mr. Cavill. Who’s this? Are you dating?’ The loud shrieky voice sounded in my neck. I had difficulty not showing utter disgust when a camera was pushed in our faces. ‘Good sir,’ Henry said, getting up, placing his hand on the journalists chest. ‘This is private property. I must ask you to leave and request permission to shoot at the Chamber of MM Media.’ ‘But are you dating?! Mr Cavill?!’ The journalist continued, while one of the security men came strolling in, grasping the man by his shirt and pulling him away. ‘How do you stay so calm?’ I grinned, taking my last sip of tea, watching Henry sitting back down. People around us didn’t even seem very impressed, already having continued with their activities. ‘It gets easier.’ He gave me a sweet smile, which truly was creepy when he was in full costume. ‘What’s the planning for the rest of your week?’ He asked, fetching his phone from his pocket. It was Wednesday. ‘Free Friday afternoon, shopping materials for Poland on Saturday, which we’ll probably discuss on Sunday, then free again on Monday.’ He scrolled through his agenda. I took the hint and grabbed my phone as well, moving it around on the table so he could see my schedule. He grinned, looking up at me. ‘Let me get to the wardrobe department and see if we can get you off the hook on Sunday. I want to take you out for a trip.’ I raised my eyebrow. “CAST CALL, RUN THROUGH IN 5, HALL 2.4..” He looked up, then quickly returned my phone. ‘Would you like that?’ ‘Yea. Sure.’ I said, not quite sure what trip meant in this case. I shrugged as he gave me a quick peck on the lips and rushed off to hall 2.

It sure was magical, how quickly he could fix such things. Within the hour, my manager dropped by to tell me I could take the Sunday off - which usually was out of the question. I looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. ‘Orders from above.’ I squinted my eyes in disbelief. Above? But there we go. It soon was Saturday and I was in the minivan with the department, getting back from a successful shopping trip. Everyone made sure to quickly move all materials to the shipping boxes, ready to go to Poland, snipping off little bits to use for the mood-boards. After that I walked to the hall where they were shooting the last few scenes. I sat down in a director’s chair and sipped on some green tea, looking at the hustle and bustle.

Anya plopped down in the chair next to me. ‘His kisses are different now.’ She said abruptly. I looked up, raising my eyebrows. She smiled an endearing smile, then studied me for a bit. ‘Had a good shoot day?’ I asked. She shrugged. ’Twas okey. Yours?’ ‘Got some pretty materials for your future dresses actually’ ‘Mmm! Cool. Hey, but about those kisses. I think he really, really likes you. He seems different..’ He cocked her pretty head, pouting in thought. ‘Really…’ I smiled, then looked at my cup of tea. ‘So are you joining him to the premiere?’ She asked in girlish curiosity. ‘The premiere? Oh, no. I’ll let you have the honours. Don’t want to have fans going wild over some casual girl on his arm.’ She squinted at me. ‘They first thought I was the worst choice EVER for Yennefer. Now they make fan porn of me. Fans are so weird.’ She shrugged giddily. ‘I’ll let them have the illusion of Hollywood for a moment longer.’ I winked. She laid her hand over mine. ‘He accidentally grunted your name when we shot a make out scene.’ We both snickered. ‘This conversation is so weird.’ I said, laughing at her. She shrugged. ‘Actors life.’

Not much later the last scene was cut and a flurry of set members once again flew out. Anya plopped out her chair, wrapping her arms around a tall man with full sleeve arm tattoos. She kissed him with childish excitement. Without looking back they walked out together, in full conversation. ‘Ready?’ I shot up in shock from his voice. He had sneaked up behind me and was standing there with his coat flung over his shoulder. He had already changed into his regular attire. ‘Ooph.’ I laughed. ‘You are quiet as a mouse.’ I wiggled out of the chair and smiled at him. He pecked me on the lips before holding out his arm, inviting me to take it. We walked out to his car as it was just getting dark. 8.30 pm. ‘Now for our trip. I’m invited by my horse riding trainer to a farm, just squeezing in a few hours in the saddle before Poland. I figured it’d be a nice outing.’ I looked at him. ‘Horse riding?’ ‘Like all fair knights do!’ He grinned. ‘Alright. Fair prince.’ I slithered. ‘Let’s fetch stuff at our houses, walk Kal, then drive there.’ ‘This evening still?’ ‘Yep, might as well get the drive over with. Can you drive?’ ‘Yea, want to switch?’ ‘No no. Just. Curious. Shift?’ ‘Of course. European remember?’ He snickered. ‘Americans ARE lazy.’

We had some quick food, fetched our things, walked Kal, then jumped into the car to drive north. It was deep in the night when we arrived. About 1-ish. And there was nothing around except for this romantically lit farm house with some barns. We jumped out and walked up to the house, some dogs greeting us with loud barks, tails wagging. A man came out in his night shift. ‘Ey ey. Easy boys…. Mr Cavill!’ A gruff, smoke-heavy voice sounded. ‘Mr. Games!’ The men greeted with loud pats on each others backs. ‘And ye brought a sweet thing with you.’ Henry moved aside, smiling at me. ‘Lisa. And careful. She can be feisty.’ Mr Games rumbled a loud laugh and hugged me tight. ’Welcome dear. Ai that wonderful smell about you. Honeysuckle?’ I looked at him in disbelief. ‘Actually yes. I don’t like perfume’s sold on the market so I wear..honeysuckle.’ ‘Such fine smell.’ He folded his arm around my back and guided us to the main house. ‘I got ye a nice little bed made. And ye know where everythin’ is. Make yourself at home. Me wife already hit the hay, so I’ll join ‘er if ye don’t mind.’ He chuckled with insinuating tone. ‘Of course.’ Henry said, winking. Mr Games prodded him playfully. ‘HA HA HA.’ He laughed a little too loudly, then nodded at me, before holding the door open for me. We walked inside. It was dimly lit. A wooden structured house with heavy beams, the smell of hay and horses protruding from its very core. The furniture was old english style. ‘Yer room is upstairs, hallway, far left. Bathroom right across. Sleep tight good folk.’ He whistled and his dogs eagerly followed him up the stairs, his short stubby legs making the stair steps creak heavily.

Henry yawned. ’Night cap?’ I looked at him. ‘Sure, why not. We’re off for 2 days, gods be blessed!’ I exclaimed. ‘Are you religious by the way? I’ve never asked.’ ‘Nope. You?’ ‘No, raised Christian, but not following.’ He pulled open some cabinets in the kitchen and pulled out two small brandy glasses and a bottle of strong liquor. ‘He makes his own, so, fair warning: it is strong.’ He put the filled glasses on the table. ‘Do you believe in a God?’ I asked. He sat down opposite of me, looking out at the dark fields outside. ‘I think it would be practical if there were a God. But never have I seen or heard him. So no, not a believer.’ We clinked our glasses. ‘And when did you learn to ride horses?’ ‘At my parents actually. We grew up on the Jersey Islands and our neighbours kept two ponies. Darling horses, but also so darn stubborn.’ He grinned. ‘Could you tell me about your sweetest memory of your youth, living there?’ I asked. He rolled around the drink in his glass, thinking. And so we talked for another hour or so. Eventually so tired, all we wanted to do was sleep.

It was around 10 when we woke up. And made love, as morning Henry so enjoys doing. I felt my innards burning from his pounding, laying on my back heaving heavily. ‘Goodness me.’ I laughed as he rolled over and supported his head, letting a finger travel over my body. He was panting slightly. I finally opened my eyes, seeing he was looking a bit pained. I reached out to him. ‘Hi.’ I said. ‘Hey.’ He returned, his eyes twitching between loving and regretful. I looked down at his glorious body, noticing something… missing. ‘C…ondom?’ His face broke in agony, his gaze looking at something on the bed table. ‘It broke.’ ‘Wow..you..’ I got up in shock, looking at rubber, then at him. ‘Do we need to get you a morning after pill?’ He said meekly. ‘Hopefully not, I am pretty steadfast with the pill.’ I looked at him in disbelief. He sighed, ashamed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I let out a breath I was holding. ‘Oh I’m so glad I use the pill. Please tell me next time. Oh my..this could have gone wrong.’ He sat up, looking apologetically at me. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘It’s okey. I just..didn’t notice.’ I sighed, then looked at him lovingly. ‘It should be alright.’ I continued, cupping his cheek. He smiled weakly, then pulled me close. ‘Ohhh. I’m such a fool!’ He said melodramatically. I snickered as I pulled his heavy body on top of me, hugging intently.

The day was filled with horses. Saddling horses, walking with horses, riding horses, combing horses, haying horses, moving horses from field to field. Henry clearly got the knack for it, gently and without force leading the horses around. ‘It’s all in the hips and eye contact.’ He said, leading a mare ahead, with a few horses following. It was just the two of us, as Mr. Games was drying off some horses at the stables. The day was running late and food smells were flowing out of the kitchen. ‘Mares love good hips huh?’ I joked, earning a cocky smile from him. ‘Well all joking aside, my hips are …sore.’ I said, somewhat surprised by that. He laughed at me sweetly. ‘Then let us rest.’ He said. ‘I thought you’d never say it.’ I grinned with a mocking tone. He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking.

The days flew by and before we knew it we were driving back to the Hollywood Hills. The return of bright lights, stressed out honking cars and general mess that was the city, I couldn’t help but sigh. I loved my work, my friends, the closeness of everything you need, but there sure were downsides to living in the city. He squeezed my leg while he drove south to drop me off at home. Our goodbye was sweet and relaxed. It had been good to be with each other for longer then just a few minutes. The eraticness was gone and had made place for trust and comfort. We kissed a long while in front of my door, Kal waiting impatiently to go in like he usually would. But this time we really said goodbye at the door. I stood and watched while Henry made his way down the stairs, Kal following with wagging tail. Down the stairs he turned around to look up, waving at me one last time before disappearing. We were getting better at it, I smiled, walking inside of my dark apartment. I didn’t even bother turning on lights, just dropping my stuff, brushing my teeth and heading for bed. It would be another busy week. And, the last week here in the US, which made shooting all the more crazy.

—

I was exhausted by the time it was Saturday. I could sleep anywhere, anytime. And yet I had to pack my stuff for my flight tomorrow evening. It was only now I really started to miss Bib. Usually it would be a whole hustle to get my way too old cat in the plane, having to do all these health checks, her being completely paranoid for the rest of the day. No more of that. I plopped on my bed. It was 11.30pm. I opened my Whatsapp to check on any messages. No message from him yet. I sent him a kissing emoji, followed by a sleeping emoji. ‘Flying tomorrow. When do you get to Poland?’ I fell asleep and only woke up again when the alarm clock buzzed 8 hours later. I groaned. He had responded. ‘Sleep well dear. Probably arrive there on Wednesday evening if all goes well. Wish I could travel with you :) Safe travels and contact me when you arrived!’ Followed by a picture of all his stuff being packed. All the picture frames, dog toys, some workout gear, put into boxes. I snickered. I didn’t bring quite as much with me. Just clothes and a few books. I owned this home and kept all my valuables in a locked closet, then rented out the apartment to colleagues who worked here off and on as well. I had to miss my stuff for these months, but oh well.

We were flying. I was completely dazed, barely striking up conversation with colleagues flying with me. I was too darn tired and all I wanted was that day off after landing. If anything I realised full well I wouldn’t be able to keep up this lifestyle forever. It made good money, which I invested wisely just so in a few years I could settle down and pick a more quiet hobby-that-made-some-money and live off the earnings of my investments. Always better than what most colleagues were doing; blowing through the money like there was no tomorrow. Expensive cars, clothes, going out for dinner every single night and then complaining they couldn’t go to the dry cleaners multiple times a week. Silly folk. I watched a simple romcom, listened to some music, tried to sleep in the rather uncomfortable seat I was situated in (squeezed in between two sizeable ladies who were talking extremely loud and were sweating like whales). I couldn’t describe the happiness when the captain announced we were starting to land.

*Lapalice caste*

It was morning in Poland, the sky and buildings as grey as last we were here. The communist building style really didn’t do any good for this culture. Nevertheless, it was a relief when the crew’s bus arrived and we were transported to the countryside. We were starting the set build at a castle, an artistic 20th century interpretation, absolutely lovely. A small encampment had already been made with running water, hot showers and a large food area. This would do for the next month. Our manager immediately started with nudging us to come up with ideas for the brainstorming session tomorrow, but I, like everyone else, simply ignored her. ‘Tomorrow Lazz. Don’t want to have more of us burned out.’ One of the men said, tapping her on the shoulder. We were escorted to our quarters. Shamefully..it were small bunk beds. I rolled my eyes. Well, no privacy then. Trying to stay awake for a little while longer I walked around a bit and sent a selfie with the set in the background to Henry. ‘Smells medieval to me!’ I added. ‘Gonna switch to European SIM. Add my number: 316123456789.’ Also, being back in Europe, and having switched sim cards, I took the opportunity to give my mother a call. She answered after some waiting. Always a busy woman.

‘Dear! How are you? Oh such things I’ve heard! Are you sleeping well?’ She rattled in dutch. ‘Hi mom. I’m pretty good. Kind of jet-lagging. Just arrived in Poland. So, mostly trying to stay awake now haha. How are you guys?’ ‘So good! Oh, exciting news. We got permission to start rebuilding the back of the house. It’s gonna be so pretty. I’ll send you the drawings.’ ‘Cool! With the wooden porch?’ ‘Yes. Oh it’s going to be lovely. Hey but what did I hear..or read. Are you pregnant?’ ‘What? No mom. Who told you that?’ ‘Oh my sister, you know she loves following your work. She told me you were seen with this actor and he was touching your belly and all.’ ‘If I would be pregnant I’d surely not forget to tell you mom. No. No babies coming. But I am dating, yes.’ ‘Is he good to you? Or is it a she? That’s fine too.’ ‘It’s a guy. Actor yes. And he’s a darling.’ ‘Oh so maybe babies at some point then?’ ‘Mommm.’ ‘What?! I had babies by your age.’ ‘You’re insufferable at times mom. So how are grandma and pa?’ I diverted the conversation. ‘Not great, you should call them. They have moved to a senior house and they absolutely detest it. Poor folk.’ ‘Ay…’ We chatted for a while longer. It was good to speak to her again, her voice rattling happily through the phone. At times it’s hard to remember how important family is, until you reconnect.

I ended the call and saw some more messages coming in from Henry (seen as an unknown number, since I switched SIM card). A whole selfie diary of what he had been doing that day. Working out, walking the dog, some more firewood with a shrugging emoticon (definitely hinting at jerking off) and finally a selfie of him having lunch with some of the cast. I snickered. ‘Busy man! And miss you a lot :) Especially seeing the tiny, tiny bunkbeds they got us xD Goodbye privacy..’ I typed. He responded. ‘We’ll make up for that on Wednesday then.’ Wink. I smiled, then wondered if they had installed the trailers yet for the lead actors. I started strolling around the area, and sure enough the shiny aluminium trailers appeared at the far edge of the campsite.

The next few days was mostly just scouting the area for good shoot locations, collecting material and starting the build of the set for the first week. It was decidedly more relaxed then the previous weeks. To which I was glad. It also did wonders for the team spirit. Many nights we were huddled around campfires, drinking hot wine and making music. It sure felt like a small holiday. And I got to know my colleagues a whole lot better. We worked in a team of 15 for set design. 2 Of them were apparently going to get married in a month’s time, right after our crew was let off, 5 of them had gone to the same college, and most of them were utterly curious about my relationship with Henry. I kept it a bit under the wraps, but spoke honestly about how much fun we had. And how normal it felt. And yes, we were all official. ‘You are..so lucky. Urgh.. Why not me?’ One of my gay colleagues blurted out. We all snickered. ‘It’s the vagina I’d say..otherwise you surely would have had a shot.’ I winked. He warped his mouth in oo-ing shape. ‘Oh Hell! I’d let myself be rebuilt if that means I’d have a shot.’ We all belted out a loud laugh.

Wednesday came. The sun was starting to break through the grey clouds for the first time these days. How suitable, I thought, sipping my morning tea while looking over the hunting grounds that were being prepped for a scouting scene. More bushes, white biodegradable dye after which fake snow would be added. We were sitting around a large wooden board on two scaffolds, serving as huge meeting table. Materials for clothes were splayed out. I wasn’t really paying attention, since this part of the production would be running when I was already off-duty. ‘Hey, whatcha think, light or darker blue for him?’ One of the ladies woke me from my day dreaming. I stood up and looked at the scraps of fabric. ‘Darker. Besides the bias works better on this fabric.’ The lady smiled contently. ‘I told you.’ She said, looking at the other dressmaker who shrugged in slight annoyance. ‘Like she knows anything about cloth making.’ She shot me a dirty look. I shrugged in return, smiling. ‘Who knows!’ Which annoyed her even more. ‘It is indeed a better fabric to cut on bias though.’ The other woman retorted, nodding at me to acknowledge me. After they wrapped up their little meeting, the woman came up to me. ‘You sew?’ I looked up in confusion. ‘A bit. Made some costumes for fun before I got this job actually.’ ‘Good. And you helped buy they fabrics too right?’ ‘I was more a dumb force dragging along fabric rolls, if that counts as helping.’ She smirked. ‘Well silly questions maybe. But..Any chance we can borrow you for a few hours tomorrow and stand in for some fittings. Much better then that Polish girl they found. Can’t speak english, doesn’t understand fit..Urgh. And can’t have Ciri look like a mess.’ I raised my eyebrow, surprised by the request. ‘Uhmm..I’ll have to check my schedule. We’re doing a run-through around 12. And..and I’m not sure we share the same..build…Freya and I’ ‘That’ll be fine. Both small figure. We’ll do a further fit when she arrives - she got delayed…actresses…’ I shrugged, looking at my phone to check my schedule. ‘Alright.’

Not much later the main crew arrived in a large black bus. The first one getting out was Kal, who sprinted out like he hadn’t seen daylight in days. He sniffed and peed everywhere and greeted people with great excitement. The crew gladly petted him and started helping unpacking. Henry and Anya were in conversation when they got off the bus, joking around. Freya indeed wasn’t there. Hmm.. Then Henry noticed me and smiled an even broader smile. He walked up to me, carrying some of his luggage which he dropped to the muddy grass to give me a deep kiss. ‘Hi princess.’ ‘Hey you.’ I said with cheeky smile. He looked up to see what Kal was doing, now playing with one of the camera guys. He sniffled. ‘Good to be here. How are you?’ ‘Good actually. It’s been some lovely relaxed days, just building up, having campfires and the weather’s getting better too. How was your trip?’ ‘Decent. Some turbulence which got the ladies screaming.’ He rolled his eyes with amusement. I snickered. ‘But all went well…’ He fell quiet for a bit and looked at me. And I just returned his quiet stare, smiling. ‘Already found my trailer?’ ‘In the back, far right. A trailer with a view of the lake.’ I winked. ‘Best view in town.’ He smiled in return, folding an arm around me. The very weight making me have to shift my feet in the slippery grass. He stared out over the fields around him, looking at the crew walking around with set pieces, smiling proudly. I just took the moment to wrap my arm around his lower back, leaning into him.

‘Yea let’s get my stuff to the trailer and find something to eat. I’m starving.’ He said, his stomach rumbling. I snickered, diving away from underneath his arm and walking to the bus to grab some of the stuff I knew to be his. We walked up to his trailer, his PA already waiting there to hand him his key and schedule for the first week. ‘Argh..and back to dehydration nightmare again.’ He said, glancing over the schedule. We moved his stuff in, unpacked all his picture frames and put them on top of the floating kitchen cupboards and set up some dog food and water for Kal. He walked back to the door, pulling it closed. I could see his eyes darken with lust while he pinned me against the kitchen block. ‘No bunk bed here.’ He growled. ‘Mmm I have to do a run-through in 10. Later.’ I whispered in between his shower of kisses. ‘Mmpff.’ He cupped my jaw in his large hands. ‘I can’t wait.’ ‘I know.’ I snickered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before moving to get back outside. He stopped me with one arm, grabbing me around the waist. He bit my neck playfully. ‘Rrr.’ He growled into my ear. I giggled, squirming in his arm. ‘Let me go!’ I puffed, pushing down his arm. He turned me around with great ease and looked at me, this time more sweetly, then smiled sheepishly. ‘Come look for me when you’re done.’ He said. I nodded, then pried myself out of his iron grip and made way for the set.

The camp fires were lit again and dinner was served. With the crew slowly growing in size it became more rowdy. I joined Henry and some stunt men around a fire, huddled against him while forking around in a plate of Chinese food. It was rather bland shamefully. The men were enthusiastically talking through some of the stunt work that had been planned. Burning building jumps, fighting with dogs, monster fights, the whole shebang. Henry was joining in with great excitement. He loved doing as much stunt work on his own as he could. A little boy’s dream of his. His arms flexed while he talked, his eyes gleaming. After dinner however, he soon lost out to his jet lag. He poked me out of my dreaming stare into the fire and whispered. ‘Join me?’ I nodded and smiled a tired smile. Without further ado we excused ourselves, I brushed my teeth and went to his trailer, Kal already sleeping on the floor, only his ears twirling up in curiosity.

Just moments after he turned the lock on the door I could feel his hands roam over my body. He pulled me flush against his chest, my back towards him as he sniffed my hair. ‘I missed this smell of you.’ He rumbled, lust trailing his voice. I sniffled, turning my head slightly so I could kiss him. ‘I’ve missed YOU.’ I whispered against his lips, a smile on my lips. His arms folded around me, squeezing me even closer as his head dipped down, his lips blazing a trail on my neck. ‘Very funny..Now..I would like to be patient, but…’ He swirled me around with a force I had not experienced of him yet. I barely had time to register what was happening when he swooped me up in his arms, needing just a few long strides to lay me on the bed at the back of the trailer. He quickly stripped off his clothes as I stared at him, my dazed head needing a good moment to take in what was happening while my gaze fell on his rushed striptease. I didn’t even think about undressing myself. He took my breath away as he had done a dozen times by now. That hair tumbling in unruly curls around his face, his flexing muscles, the slight smirk on his lips and that godly chest hair. By the time he looped his thumbs around the waistband of his boxers, he raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Undress.’ He simply commanded, his voice dark. I obliged gingerly, quickly wriggling myself out of my comfy outfit as I laughed at his impatience.

I was just about to unclasp my bra when he pushed me down on the bed, crawling on top of me. I gasped as one of his hands slipped around my throat (even though he was careful) and I immediately halted any further attempts to remove my underwear as his heavy body pushed me down, his lips meeting mine. Eager hands slipped down my panties, feeling how wet I already was for him. He rumbled a low chuckle as he reached his arm out towards a small drawer next to the bed, his eyes not leaving mine. I raised an eyebrow as he rumaged around in the drawer, finding what he was looking for: a condom. He kept his eyes trained on me as he ripped the packaging with his teeth, not looking away once. I felt myself get wetter by the second as I looked in his lust-laced eyes, hearing his ragged breath. He pumped his erection a few times before putting the condom on, his eyes finally trailing away. He looked down at his erection, now eagerly pressing against my hip. And he sure liked what he saw, because when he looked back up there was that all-familiar question in his eyes. I took a shallow breath, which was apparently enough of an answer as he pressed his lips against me more feverishly.

He was..impatient..to say the least. His lips bruised mine deliciously, making me moan and groan in response while his right hand moved aside my panties. He guided his erection to my folds, rubbing it generously against my core - earning another longing moan from me. Then he got up a bit, making eye contact once more. DO IT - I thought, but he waited, just tilting his head slightly. And so I wrapped my legs around his hip, pulling him inside of me. We both gasped, savouring the feeling of becoming one. He slumped forward a bit, leaning heavily on his arms as his head dunked down to bite the soft skin of my neck. Without breaking contact, he slowly pumped out, before pushing all the way back in. I groaned. He was so big. And hard. I scratched at his back as he started to slowly up his pace. ‘That smell.’ He rumbled, lowering it to a tone that sounded more like Geralt then Henry. I groaned and moaned as he started a frantic speed. ‘Oh gods.’ I moaned as his lips attacked my neck, jawline, cheek, forehead, eyelids. He did not leave one bit of skin untouched.

I felt he was getting closer to his release and tried to pry one of my hands in between us, to stimulate myself. He groaned, realising he had neglected my needs. I opened my eyes, seeing he gave me a pleading look before he pulled my arm away, pushing me over on my belly before pulling my hip up. My head still pressed to the mattress and my butt in the air, I felt a bit vulnerable. I tried to turn my head to see him, but he pushed my shoulder down. ‘Like that.’ He said darkly, and before I could protest he pushed back inside of me again. I groaned. He could reach even deeper in this position, hitting my cervix in a way I wasn’t sure I was enjoying fully. I wanted to sit up, change the position, but his strong arm kept pushing me down. He started to push into me again, something I wasn’t so very much enjoying. ‘Babe..’ I gasped, my voice laced with pain. He folded over me, pausing his thrusting as he finally touched my bud. I could feel his lips on the skin of my naked back. ‘That better?’ He asked, a touch concerned. I immediately felt that all familiar electricity coil up inside. I gasped again. He bent over further, involuntarily moving inside of me. I squealed it out as he hit an unfamiliar place inside of me, an orgasm bursting through me making my whole body shake. Was that my g-spot? I thought after some seconds. I had even forgotten about Henry’s heavy body pushing into me, only realising he was asking me if I was okay when the haze lifted. ‘Baby? Hey?’ He was holding himself still, his lips next to me ear. I finally managed to turn my head towards his face, a smile on my lips. ‘That was..’ I started..but couldn’t finish. I burst out into laughter. He nuzzled my cheek, finally understanding. A husky laugh rumbled through his chest. ‘Are you okay?’ He finally asked, his face more serious now. I nodded, closing my eyes and wiggling my hips, immediately feeling his erection hard inside me.

Staying folded over me like he was shielding me from the world, he started pulling and pushing into me. Again and again..and again. And boy. Did it feel good this time. His hand once more circled my nub while he played around with the angles of his thrusts. The higher he moved up my body, the more frantic were my shivers. I wasn’t even sure if it was just one very long second orgasm bursting through, or several. Not that I could even care anymore. I groaned, moaned and shivered while he pushed into me, his orgasm finally taking him over the edge as well. He groaned as his seed spilled inside of me, releasing the hand from my nub to steady himself. He took a few deep breaths, stilling himself, before gently pulling out. I flopped down on my belly, still shivering, while he rolled on his side. Our eyes met, a smirk on his lips. ‘I’ll remember that.’ He finally said as his hand travelled over my slightly shivering body. I sniffled, moving closer to kiss him. ‘Hi.’ I smiled, still dazed from my orgasms. ‘Hi.’ He responded, smiling a broad smile, pulling me even closer, folding his arms protectively around me. He nuzzled me, taking a calm breath. ‘How I missed you.’ I nodded in agreement, too spent to talk and instead just enjoying laying there in his arms until sleep overtook me. I had missed this indeed.

---

Part 4 >

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #smut #fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #poland #travel #setlife #fluff #teafortwo

81 notes · View notes

pack-the-pack · 5 years ago

Note

Any thoughts on the aftermath of mating bites? I have a headcanon that taking care of the other's bite until its healed is a huge part of strengthening a pair's mating bond. Do you think Alphas would take pride in changing the Omegas bandages every day? Or feel guilty for for causing them pain? Would Omegas fret over using the best salves and anti-inflammatory medicine?

Honestly I adore this idea. But as in most of the asks I answer my response is not just “yes, pretty much” or “No” lol Yeeea, sorry about that guys… I do think that overall the biting and the care for it is an intimacy majority of couples take pride on, but I also think the process and importance itself might change depending on personal preference of the couple, culture, time period and social and economic status. Yes We are going there again, fasten your seat belts kids, cause it’s time for a History lesson, Pack style!!!

Warning: Mentions of death, abortions, mental illness, sexual stuff and all sorts of ancient hi jinks in an incredibly lengthy post (cut possibly unavailable on mobile cause tumblr is garbage).

Disclaimer: A lot of what I’m basing these fictional concepts in is very eurocentric because that’s what I know best, I am not a historian, I am not an archaeologist or a biologist, I have no degree on no nothing let alone an specialisation on anything relevant enough to be used as educated sources for what I’m about to write. This is just for fun okay, guys? So no need to rub your years of hard work and experience on my face or be like “well actually-!”, cause it will be like just, cool to know? But very unlikely taken into account past that, so just, relax m’kay? Thanks…… Also a lot of my knowledge on these things just comes from the “History of the entire world I guess” video so yeaaa.

So first and foremost, the types of things one would use to treat mating bites. Again, I think there are variants regarding time period and culture, but I think every culture would end up coming up with rather similar things, or overlapping methods of treating such scarring, and I made a little drawing for it :3 Nothing, great, nothing awesome, but because this ask inspired me to draw something.

(Kind of messy, my pottery is kind of crooked and I totally intended for the background to be grey and didn’t just fuck up cleaning up on the wrong layers and had to pretend that was the original plan, you’re imagining, but it’s from the heart c’mon).

Before people had this fancy thing called modern medicine, they had to rely solely on instinct, anecdotes and superstition to make their medication, and of course, bite treatment wasn’t any different.

Whenever an Alpha would bite an Omega or a Beta or vice verse, the glands around the bite area would get irritated, itchy and achy. The most ancient method of soothing these aches was mud, just plain out wet dirt, applied to the area and left there to dry and reapplied only when the entirety of the first batch cracked and fell off naturally during daily activities. It was the hottest trend amongst packs 50.000 b.c. - Though there is also evidence of animal fat being used for the same purpose as well as snow.

With the end of the Paleolithic period and the invention of agriculture things started to get more advanced, now people have bowls, and lots of seeds… and grains! Grains and seeds that they can squeeze really hard and it makes residue come out of them. This is when various types of oils started to pop all around along with various simple mixtures of flour and water. Many clay statues and other rudimentary paintings from these periods show a variety of deities and rituals that existed around the manufacturing of these products and there are indications that the importance of treating bite wounds only then started to become somewhat of a significant part of mated couples’ lives. It was believed that these smaller human settlements created by the first sedentary packs, aka warrens, didn’t make distinction between the Eleusinian¹ and Asterian² dynamics when it came to mating bites and the treatments of such. Omegas would bite and care for the marks they inflicted on Alphas just as much as Alphas and Betas to one another or other Omegas. It was only when these warrens started to grow into full blown villages and subsequently distinctive cities that these differences started to develop.

Once these villages and cities started to gain shape and power, social hierarchy took on a new dimension beyond sole survival. Alphas no longer concerned themselves solely with the survival of their own small pack and hunting food to provide for their mates and children, Betas no longer concerned themselves with just assisting Alphas and Omegas in their daily activities as well as primarily caring for crops and animals, and Omegas no longer only cared to make sure their children and pack were in good health and cared for. Farming and the domestication of animals allowed everyone to have more time for architecture, writing, laws, politics, dancing, music, religion and most important of all: Figuring out how to divide people in a way that totally doesn’t benefit everyone equally, as one do. So now you got social classes and cultural diversity, and these come with different ways of treating mating bites. So around the period of the Bronze age to when the Greeks were like really important (specially cause a lot of the terminology and ideas about the dynamics carried nowadays comes from them and the Romans in western society) methods and materials started to shift a bit, but not drastically. Herbs like mint and parsley, flowers like lavender and aconite, roots like ginger and marsh mallow, and oils like that from olives, frankincense or sesame seeds as well as animal derived products such as wax from bees or blood and fat from animals and sometimes even metals like iron started to pop up all around from east to west as cures for all sorts of ailments and diseases. Brought through the sea or through land by merchants (rhizotomiki) who crossed nations and continents, carrying with them they brought all sorts of new superstitions and beliefs about mating bites. Flowers said to be born from rivers or lakes of eternal youth, roots and spices made of fire itself, honey directly from the mouth of deities or roots that’d kill any spiritual disease started gaining popularity quickly with pretty much everyone seen as a lot of these were said to provide for good fortune and happy and prosperous marriages if incorporated on biting rituals. Oracles and religious leaders would advise their followers and rulers to consume certain things before mating and to care for their bites and their partners with extra amounts of care because all of a sudden they started to become super important. Deaths, famine, bad luck, abortions and mental illnesses started to be blamed on the lack of care or the improper care of mating bites, said to either cause the body to perish in account of some malignant aspect of a specific plant or to have angered the gods in some manner.

The high mortality that could come with infected mating bites became more and more apparent the more society advanced, but they didn’t know it was because of the infection itself yet, so surviving these was not only a sign of strength or luck, but a sign of status, power, money and higher spirituality. Emperors, Empresses, feudal lords in the orient, etc. All took pride in having enough money to buy rare ingredients from merchants from far away lands as well as hundreds of slaves and servants to care for their gardens, plantations and animals which provided them with an immense diversity of always available plants, herbs and roots that gained favour in aiding with biting marks. To be the chosen mate of one of these people would grant one with a similar status and privileges, such as not dying and having better flavoured bread or something.

This also meant that they didn’t really want other people but them using these miracle medicines, because they thought that for the common people to use “divinely provided” forms of care would inevitably result in corruption of said methods and subsequently the fall of society. So now you had:

The rulers of nations and cities/nobles: Using and manufacturing refined powders from roots, grains and metals from far away nations in order to bind and cure mating bites. Rare Oils from plant eradicated anywhere but the palaces and gardens belonging to the highest circles, bandages made from the finest silks and sown and painted with all sorts of religious meanings. Concoctions that took hours, months or even years to be finished for a single claiming treatment, with recipes and processes kept secret and many times lost forever with trusted doctors/shamans that’d tend to royalty only.

Generals, Priestesses, Shamans, Politicians: Using plants and roots that were common, but difficult to come by, expensive, difficult to use or “required” a specific ritual that’d grant them some sort of untapped potential from these plants otherwise, providing them “enlightenment”, “strength”, “wisdom” and “spiritual clearance” in order to win all things from wars, to new knowledge and insight on the gods’ wants and needs to political feuds. Alcohol and other fermented blends such and wine and grape must with marsh mallow, made to clean and close wounds as well as soothing burns were prioritized here. The immediate pain was considered cleansing and efficiency. Mandrakes were rather popular as well, but for treating “deep spiritual diseases”, such as when ones mate falls ills some hours or a day after the bite is consummated, or to ensure healthy and strong offspring coming from the union since it was considered to aid on sexual prowess. However given its “immense” power and magical properties it was rarely ever given or prescribed to the masses without the supervision or blessing of a highly spiritual attuned authority.

Lords and wealthy merchants: Using, manufacturing and selling all sorts of blends, mostly creams and perfumes said to help with pain and itching. These would change depending on the city and the deities they worshiped and superstitions they carried as well as the plants naturally available in the lands (the ones that haven’t been eradicated or hogged by other classes of people). These were the ones usually gifted by acquaintances, and friends of the newly mated couple as offerings of good fortune, prosperity and fertility. These varied hugely in ingredients and price as well. Though there were other ingredients and recipes guarded with an amount of secrecy by these as well, gifted and used just by the family to other members of the same, these tended to be tended to and made with a higher degree of care, utilizing plants one would have at their disposal in their own home.

Common soldiers, artisans and lesser merchants, sailors and farmers: The people that didn’t really have much money, time or social status to dedicate to bite wounds would resort to simpler and cheaper methods of soothing their pains. Simply dousing the wounds with olive or fish oil was a common practice, as well as using salt water to wash the area. Clay of various kinds as well as coal and ground up seashells were popular on various cities as ingredients for lotions and creams and many times were offered to the gods as well as a form of prayer for good health and happy mateship. Lamb and goat fat was also very popular with the poor for its healing and relaxing properties, people would collect an array of herbs and flowers that’d fancy their partner or the both of them to incorporate into it, in order to symbolise their union as one as well as to mask the strong foul smell from the fat.

Slaves: Slaves were usually prohibited to mate by their masters, but the ones that happened to mate someone or being mated would be punished with not being able to treat their wounds. It was seen as a disgrace and distasteful to not treat ones bite wounds, and people thought only fitting that slaves who step out of line would have their favour taken from them entirely on the eyes of their gods or polite society. As a result slaves had to resort to only using water and cool mud, many succumbing to the infections and fevers that were attributed by most as a corruption of the spirit and not worthy of pity.

So as you can see, there was a divide in how they treated their wounds based on many things, and while some of these methods and rituals sometimes overlapped between classes the distinction was stark enough that you could clearly tell what type belonged to whom. It was around that time as well that the Eleusinian and Asterian dynamics started to get divided more and more as time passed. Omegas were treated as borderline property and in many places like Athens were not granted the right to mark their mate back, with exceptions occurring just in certain occasions (such as the soon departure to a losing war on the mate’s part, or to save the mate’s life though a spiritual treatment), Beta females and poor Omega females being forbidden to use certain plants and to take part in certain rituals by law claimed to be belonging solely to Omega females of higher social status, Omega males being prohibited of using any sort of soothing agents if not prohibited of being bitten altogether. Alphas having or not marks as a form of weakness or a show of strength varied ridiculously from city to city and from nation to nation (So much so that to this day there is not full agreement on that in society). And a whole lot of other rules and random crap just around mating bites alone.

With the invention of modern medicine, these things started to change obviously, people had a better grasp of what helped and what just made things worse, creams, pills, oils,,and ointments started being patented and people would gradually only look to more naturalistic methods of treating claim bites as an element of a different all-natural life style or a belief (misguided or not) that natural = better. With all that said one thing has remained true: Yes, caring for ones wounds is something that is and was believed to strengthen and solidify ones bond with their mate. People always tended to care a great deal for it, doing everything in their power to provide for their mates in the best way they knew how, if it were through giving them private care by more servants then they can count, with the best ingredients in the world at the moment, or simply by choosing smells and things that they’d like in order to show how much they care, they took and still take great pride in caring for that very fragile wound in their necks. As whether or not this is more an Alpha thing or a Omega thing, or if Alphas hate or take pride in causing pain to their partners, that varies in belief, culture and time period. I particularly think that overall it’d be a mixture of both. They don’t want to cause excessive pain to their partner but they also want their bonds to be solidified forever. The Eleusinian dynamics were always the ones more intimately connected with the production and rituals surrounding bite soothers so to me it makes sense they prioritize its quality more than Asterian dynamics, but that also is a highly individual thing.

Overall I hope this wasn’t a complete departure from what you asked >.> But I really wanted to explore this a bit more and your ask gave me the opportunity to. Remembering this is all just my interpretation and applies to my verse (PTPverse) which is completely open for creative use in fanfictions, RP sessions and others, so if you don’t agree with what I said here that’s 100% fine, to each their own, I just hope this somehow was able to help anyone ;) any lingering questions try checking out my other history posts such as the Ancient Greece Headcanons one or make another ask on my inbox for clarity. Peace.

¹ - Eleusinian dynamics: Referring to Omegas (of either gender) and Beta females.

² - Asterian dynamics: Referring to Alphas (of either gender) and Beta males.

118 notes · View notes