#for context i am extremely close to my parents but i tried to come out a couple years ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matryosika · 3 years

Text

reverse corruption

pairing — dom!jisung, sub!reader

genre — smut

word count — 6.2 k

warnings — reader is 3 years older than jisung, squirting, anal sex, dirty talk, protected sex, mentions of female masturbation, mirror sex, slightly bratty reader... i think that's it

note — i haven't read this one so if i made any mistakes i am sorry! i am not really one to write about anal sex but this time it felt accurate. also, i am super thankful for all the notifications i have been recieving lately, i really am.

i redecorated my tumblr on computer, so if you have seen it already i hope you really like it! i also did a master list and i opened up my ko-fi. tipping is not obligated, but if you really appreciate my writings and feel like giving me a tip i would REALLY appreciate it!

also, if you like my work please leave an ask! i love to read your opinions.

morality was a topic that resurfaced constantly on your day to day. whenever you had to make a decision at work, or at school, or with friends, you would often ask yourself: "is this morally correct? am i doing the right thing for me? what will happen if i make a different choice?"... that's how your parents had raised you throughout your whole childhood and those were the values that you had chosen to internalized as you grew older.

as a kid and teenager you tried your best to always stick to your principles, even if the desires inside you were crying and begging to be fulfilled, because that's what made you the most comfortable.

but still, after endless years attending religious schools and having extremely strict parents at home, you would now often cheat on your internal values and choose hedonism over morality.

you still had your limits, of course, but there were many things that the adult version of you now accepted. drinking, smoking, partying and having sex was not something you would've been able to experience if you grew up with the same mentality your parents educated you, so you were always somewhat relieved about the fact that you cuestioned every single thing they tried to impose you in order to become the woman you are now.

however, this one thing was out of your limits, but you were still thinking about it with your legs opened in front of a mirror as you touched yourself to the thought of your best friend's younger brother: han jisung.

both of you were adults and you were only 3 years older than him, but it still made you extremely embarrassed the sexual thoughts about him your mind would often play. partly because he looked like the average "boy-next-door": cute, innocent and good loking, and partly because he was the brother of someone that was really close to you. there was absolutely nothing morally wrong in the context of you finding him sexually attractive, but it still bothered you that everytime you thought about him, you would feel as if you were betraying chan, your best friend.

and even if you felt regretful, you still had no plans on pushing those thoughts away any time soon. that's why you were laying on your bed alone tonight, gasping and moaning as you pictured his face in between your legs.

in your imagination, he had nearly no sexual experience compared to you and for some wicked reason, that turned you on even more. the slightly dominant part of you needed to teach him how to pleasure you, you needed to see his precious face coming undone while his cock twitched and came inside you making a mess everywhere. you needed to be filled up by him, but at the same time you knew that even if the opportunity presented itself, you wouldn't be able to take it.

after you approached your orgasm, and as you stabilized your breath, you got up from the bed straight to your closet looking for the outfit you were going to wear tonight to chan's party, a place were jisung was sure going to be too. even knowing that, your goal was never to seduce him in any way or approach him to start a conversation. you two had spoken before a lot of times, yes, but it was always pretty casual. however, things abruptly changed a few weeks ago after you saw his blushed face trying to cover up his growing bulge as you were waiting for chan to leave for a party. the tight red dress that you were wearing that night flattered your body just nice, and jisung was the first one to notice it, growing nervous every second that passed by as he admired your figure in silence.

you noticed his hands holding on to one of the cushions on the couch he was sitting on attempting to cover his erection, but you chose to ignore it in order to not have any kind of weird conversation in front of chan. you shyly smiled at him and proceded to part your gaze trying to make things less awkward. however, you could feel how his eyes were still on you, burning your skin at every point they fixed themselves: your collarbone, your breast"s, your waist, your hips and your ass. you couldn't deny it, knowing that he desired you in a sexual way turned you on in ways that a lot of men couldn't before. but still, he was probabaly unexperienced and you were his older brother's best friend, there were almost cero possibilities of anything happening between the two of you and you were completely fine with it, as long as every night you allowed yourself to hink about him while you touched yourself.

the weather was nice and you had no intention to stay longer than an hour or two at chan's and jisung's place, so you picked a ruched bust tiered black dress that was long enough for you to not grow uncomfortable throughout the night. the ocassion of the party was nothing formal though, since you were just celebrating chan's lately track, but you didn't feel like wearing jeans or anything too tight.

chan's department was filled with people and loud music, making almost impossible to even engage in a conversation. still, chan approached you immediatly after finishing his improvised stage with the rest of the members on his group, the piled up crowd in his living room cheering and clapping.

"so?" chan inquired, posing with both of his hands cuping his face "how did you like it?"

"it was..." you answered, leaving him hanging on curiosity as you were ready to give your veredict about the newest track "good! it was just amazing!"

"you always say that, y/n" the brown-haired reply with the brightest smile.

"that's because everything you do is pure art" you smiled back "nothing will ever top runner's high though but..."

"oh, come on! that one was years ago!" he whined "i have growed so much in my talent and music now, i prefer the newest tracks"

"so you are telling me that you don't like "wow" anymore?" you asked pouting, knowing that chan felt somewhat regretful of that song since it was made by his teen self as he says nowadays.

"don't even get me started tonight y/n" chan teased "but now that we are talking about mistakes..." he joked "jisung was looking for you".

your breath almost caught up in your throat, making you cough slightly at chan's revelation "he needs help with his finals"

oh, right. he was also in your major too.

"oh, yeah i will look for him on monday" you lied, trying to come up with an excuse to not help him because the idea of being left alone again with him was almost unbearable.

"actually his test is on monday, first hour" chan said, getting distracted by a group of people that was passing by "uh if you could help him today it would be awesome"

"chan i-"

"it's okay if you miss the rest of the party, he just really looks like he needs help" your bestfriend mumbled, clearly without paying attention to your face that was now filled with terror "i'll be right back"

and with that, he left following the group of people that passed by the both of you mere seconds ago. you grabbed your purse and finished your drink before heading out of the apartment as well, thinking about what excuse you will give him as soon as he asked you why didn't you help jisung out. you usually never rejected any favor asked by your bestfriend, but today was an exception.

the relief that struck your body once you touched the handle of the door to get out was quickly interrupted by the one voice you were not looking forward to hear.

"y/n"

you quickly turned around on the tip of your toes, already having the perfect excuse to tell him so you could escape the little session study he had in mind.

"didn't chan told you that i needed your help?" he asked, his tongue poking slightly out of his mouth as he licked his lips.

"yeah, he did" you replied "but there's too much noise in the apartment, i don't think you will be able to concentrate if we study right now"

damn, he looks fine. the ripped black jeans accentuated his legs just fine, and the grey sweater showed his broad muscles even more prominent than usual. it took a lot of effort to not glance as his hands, his fingers playing with the rings that were hanging on them.

"don't worry, i can multitask" he mumbled with the biggest, cute and innocent smile you had ever seen "plus, i have just a few specific questions. i promise i won't take long"

you sighed and nodded, thinking that maybe being alone in his room with him was not going to be problematic at all, specially because there were at least 40 people outside in the living room of the apartment.

with a resigned look, you walked behind him as you held your purse tightly to your body, contemplating his wide back as his hands managed to unlock the door that had been close the whole night so strangers wouldn't barge in.

the music was still loud, but with the door closed the sound was way fainter than before. being your first time actually inside, your eyes scanned quickly the whole room which was pretty basic for a 20 year old. he had a calendar on the wall, a mirror, his closet, a desk with his computer and a bunch of books. it was pretty neat to be the room of a man, and it also smelled nice too.

"here" he said, leaning to the desk and pulling the chair so you could have a sit while he stood up on your side. "i just have a couple of questions for the psychology final"

the position you two were in was absolutely nerve-wrecking for you, your back almost pressed against his lower abdomen as he leaned on to show you something on the textbook that was in front of you.

"i just can't wrap my head around the ego and super ego, the ones of freud's theories" he mumbled, his index finger following a line on the text as he began to read "the ego is the executive mediating between id impulses and super ego inhibitions; testing reality and rationality. it operates mainly at conscious level but also at preconscious level" his voice sounded ten times deeper than before, and all your mind could process was the sight of his long fingers dancing around the soft sheet of text laying on the book "what does it mean?"

you let out a notable sigh as your whole body was practically paralyzed. the proximitiy with him was killing you, his scent was flooding all your senses and the only thing you could think of was the thought of how his fingers would feel deep deep inside you.

"like it says" you mumbled, the words coming out broken at first "the ego it's the part that is connected with reality, let's just leave it like that"

you couldn't see his face, but you knew he probably nodded as he listened to your explanation.

"in simpler words, its job is to keep the id and the super ego happy. it makes the decisions to satisfy both parts and it is also positioned in the concious and pre-concious levels of the mind"

"oh" he replied "well it's easier when you say it like that"

"freud's theories are not really easy" you replied, trying to get your mind to any other place rather than him "but they are very interesting. since your branch is more conductism-oriented, his writtens can confuse you. he used a lot of complex words to describe pretty simple things".

"yeah i can tell" he mumbled, reincorporating himself. you let out another sigh and soon realized that the whole time you were sort-of holding your breath. he really makes me nervous, huh. "can you explain me how that theory works? the one of the id, the super ego and ego, it's still somewhat confusing"

you cleared your throat and inhale deeply, turning your body slightly on your chair so you could face him.

"the ego is the rational part, right? the super ego would be everything that you have internalized throughout your childhood and early education. this part builds up by values, rules and traditions you have learned from your school, your parents and your teachers. the id, however, it's sort of the opposite. the id holds all your wishes, impulses, the libido... it is ruled by the principle of pleasure and it will always try to get what it wants." you explained. "the ego would try to weigh the super ego and the id, hopefully coming up with a solution that satisifes the both of you."

"can you give me an example?" jisung asked.

"uh, let's just say that you really want a..." you made a pause. it was ironic that you were teaching him this exact topic when it was one of the most problematic things for you lately. "you really want a video game. you have no money though, so you and your friends go to the store to see how much it costs. once you are there, you realized that the owner of the shop is asleep, and it would be way easier to steal the videogame than to save money to buy it. your id will probably try to convince you to steal it, while your super ego will bring back all the rules and values your parents have thaught you. the ego will be the one to make the choice, so tell me... will you steal it or will you save money and wait for it?"

"that's a tricky question" he added, spreading his legs on the edge of the bed as he rested himself back on his forearms. "if there were security cameras on the shop, i would probably not attempt to steal it"

"right" you mumbled "the only thing stopping you is getting caught then? you wouldn't feel remorse or guilt about stealing something?"

"will you?" he responded "think about something you truly want. if you were able to do it with no consequences whatsoever, would you?"

you snapped your fingers nervously, knowing exactly where this conversation was probably heading.

"well, i take pride on the fact that i have a pretty strong morality" you replied "even if there was no consequences, i wouldn't do it"

"but that is not fun" the dark haired replied smiling "you should losen up a bit, do things you might regret later just for the sake of doing them"

you chuckled.

"and what is that, according to you jisung?" you asked in a teasing way. not in a seductive-teasing way though, it was more like a jokingly tease way. you found it funny that he tried to lecture you as if he was a grown men on his 70's, but before you could explain that to him his lips were already brushing against yours.

"what?" you said, your mind telling you to get up from the chair and leave but your body was completely frozen as if it was waiting orders from him to start working again.

"don't say that you don't want this" he mumbled, his face tilting to the sides as his breath tickled your chin "don't tell me i am the only one who dreams about the both of us in my bed"

"c'mon" you whispered, both of your hands pushing him slightly to the bed as you got up ready to leave "your brother must be waiting for me outside"

"i know you think of me the same way i think about you" he groaned, holding softly one of your wrists so you wouldn't be able to reach the door. "i can tell by how hard you squeeze your thighs together when i am around"

this cocky bastard.

"jisung, really" you sighed, looking at him almost begging to let you go "forget whatever perversed thing you have in your mind right now, it's not going to happen"

"aren't you at least interested in what could possibly be on my mind right now?" he asked, standing from the bed without letting go of your wrist. smart move, because this way he was able to trap you in between his body and the wall.

"i couldn't care less, really" you lied "besides, you are not really my type. i prefer... older men"

he let out a soft deep laugh, his hands posing themselves on both sides of your waist. the fabric of your dress was everything but thick, and as soon as you felt his cold touch along with the coldness of the metal rings you squirmed under his hold.

"what's the difference between me and someone 3 years older?" he teased.

"experience, for sure"

"if i am not experienced then why don't you teach me?" the dark-haired teased "or is it that the unexperienced one is you?"

you laughed again, thinking about making him angry as the only way you would be able to walk out of his room with your principles intact.

"i really don't want to have this conversation with someone younger to me right now" you replied, knowing that 3 years was absolutely not much of a difference but you were determined to push that in order to free yourself from the situation that had your core throbbing. first thing you would do once you arrived home was going to touch yourself to the thought of his hands on you and his deep voice.

"so this is a matter of experience?" he inquired "it's not about you being best friends with my brother? is it really because you think i'm young and unexperienced?"

"i don't think so" you were quick to react "i know it"

before you could try to free yourself from his grip, jisung, approached your lips and kissed you. his hands held you in place the whole time, the coldness of the rings mixed with the feeling of his tongue brushing softly against yours made your nipples harden and your underwear to get ruined in a matter of seconds.

he was just slighlty taller than you and his figure was imposing, his chest moving fast as your hands traveled all the way to the sides of his neck. this was what you had been avoiding the past weeks, but succumbing to a desire never felt this good.

"god" you mumbled in between kisses, gasping slightly as he pulled your bottom lip every now and then, sending waves of pain and pleasure throughout your whole body.

"but i am not your type, huh?" his deep voice interrupted the kiss, a teasing smile appearing on the crook of his lips as he admired the sight of your flushed cheeks and your heavy breathing.

"i have been kissed better" you mumbled.

"are you always this much of a liar?" he whispered, his hand coming in contact with one of your cheeks. it wasn't until that moment where you truly realized how big his hands were, and how good his digits felt while brushing your skin "i knew you must had a flaw"

"i am not lying" you lied, again "by that sole kiss i can tell that you are not going to be able to satisfy me the way i need to be, so..."

with your whole chest about to collapse you removed yourself from the space between the wall and his body, carefully approaching the handle of the door in your second attempt.

"and how do you need to be satisified, y/n?" he asked behind your back, a smirk plastered on his cute face "i am unexperienced, you can totally teach me how to pleasure a beautiful woman like you"

"we are not going to do this" you whispered, your mind debating on wether you should leave or stay just to see how this whole thing was going to end.

"are you not going to be pleasured enough even if i filled you up completely?" his lips rubbing slightly against the lobe of your left ear "do you think that it i am not enough to satisfy you?"

the sound of his voice saying all those filthy things was the last push on your mind to decide that you were going to stay. still facing the door, you felt how his figure got even closer to you from behind, his bulge coming in contact with your ass as he earned a soft moan from you.

"you would love that, wouldn't you?" he teased "having someone to fill all of your holes"

your heart was pounding deeper and faster than before. every word that came out of his mouth just went straight to your trobbing pussy that was probably dripping right now.

"you can totally act like you don't want this but your body sells you out. every. damn. time." before you could protest, his lips were now attached to your neck, biting softly an peppering kisses all over it while his hands toured around your hips and waist. your head fell back on his shoulder, your eyes closed as your hips moved against him slightly to feel him even more.

"do you promise me that your brother won't find about this?" you whispered, the biggest smirk appearing on his face.

"i won't tell him anything" he replied "but he will probably find out as soon as he hears your pretty voice moaning my name and begging for more"

you chuckled slightly "god you really think so highly of yourself i am beginning to think that wou will probably disappoint me"

he chuckled as well but didn't reply, his confidence scaring you maybe a little bit too much. without parting his body from yours, his hand reached the door handle to close it, one of his hands locking around your waist as the other one pulled the top of your dress to denude your breasts. "did you come here with the idea of fucking me or...?"

"it's more comfortable to not wear a bra" you replied "not everything is about your pathetic cock"

you were surprised by your bratty behavior towards him, but it was most likely the anger building up inside you as you couldn't stick to what you thought was morally right.

"pathetic?" he mumbled, his fingers making contact with your nipples that hardened instantly under his touch "i will make sure to fuck you dumb so the only thing you can say is my name"

"god jisung, keep dreaming" you felt his hand dragging you all the way to the bed again, pushing you softly to lay you down. you did as he ordered, your soaked panties getting lost somewhere in his bedroom as you removed them.

"i am more of a visionary, not a dreamer" he grunted at the sight of your wet pussy in front of his eyes, trying everything to not lose his composure "fuck, do you get this wet easily?"

you knew the answer. you knew that this was in fact the first time that you felt yourself getting this aroused, but you wouldn't admit that to him. you wouldn't admit that you masturbated and came every single night for the past weeks thinking about him in between your legs, his voice moaning your name as he filled you up completely.

without even waiting for an answer, his mouth was quick to approach your wetted slit. his hot breath against your core made your body twitch a little bit, the image of his pretty cute face admiring you was going to be imprinted on your mind forever. first, he licked it slightly. at this point you had absolutely no knowledge of his sexual experience, so this could be the first time eating someone out. however, by the way he was quick to work his tongue there as well as your fingers, you concluded that this wasn't the first time.

"fuck" you moaned, your hairs getting lost on his black-blueish hair as your hips bucked against his mouth and digits "fuck ji"

as soon as the pace of his tongue increased on your clit, his fingers started to twist around inside your cunt desperately looking for that spot that would make you go completely stupid for him. and, just a few seconds later, your back arched completely as your eyes got lost. "what's wrong, y/n? you are not liking it?" he teased, knowing damn well that the pleasure he was offering you was more than enough to make you cum in a matter of seconds.

"fuck, fuck, fuck" you hissed, his brown eyes completely fixed on your face as he enjoyed every single grimace of pleasure you made "god i am cuming"

the feeling was new and overwhelming. you could notice that your arousal was probably dripping out of you as his fingers worked their way inside your tight hole, and so you tried to push him away by closing your thighs. "god, i feel like- fuck jisung move"

the movements of his fingers got more intense as his tongue brushed against your bud over and over again. you felt as if you were going to make a mess on him and the bed, so you tried to push him again once again. "ji, i think i am-"

"just let go" he groaned against your core "make a mess, i will clean it later"

your hands grabbed the end of his hair and you pushed his face even closer to your pussy, the orgasm already coming way too strong for you to resist it.

as soon as he felt your trembling body and harsh moans, he withdrew both of his fingers while his tongue was still drawing circles against your clit. to your surprise, your orgasm was way different than any other you have had in your 23 years of life. "fuck i am sorry" you gasped, seeing how the bed sheets and his chin was covered with your arousal.

"don't be" he moaned, licking your core trying to not miss any spot "you taste so fucking good, you know that?"

with heavy breathing you licked your lips, already amazed by how fast that man was able to make you cum. the image of his pretty innocent eyes looking at you while you came was going to be tattooed on your mind forever and you could already sense how bad you were going to touch yourself for the next days thinking about this exact moment.

"you came so good for me" he mumbled "i might as well just reward you with something". his hands traveled all the way to his pants as he got up from being at the edge of the bed, slightly liberating his hardened cock that was way bigger than you had dreamt it to be.

he didn't even need to ask for you to suck him off since you were already on your knees for him, thinking about all the times that you had to suck on your lovely dildo at home thinking it was jisung. but the best part is, the dildo had absolutely nothing on his cock.

with eagerness, your whole mouth opened to recieve what you had been craving the most. with slowly movements of your tongue, you circled all around the tip of his length making him curse under his breath as his gaze fixed on yours "i knew i wasn't the only one dreaming with the both of us fucking. god"

one of your hands made their way up to the base of his cock, stroking him off with your own saliva as your throat tried his best to take him fully in. "what's wrong baby?" he asked once he saw you struggling to deep-throat him "the other cocks didn't stretched that pretty slutty mouth of yours right?". you looked at him with teary eyes, trying your best to take him completely in to prove him wrong. but he did have a clue of what was happening right now: his cock was the biggest one you have ever had.

his head fell back as you sucked him off, his hands petting and caressing your head while grunts and groans left his lips "is there anything that's off the table?" he asked with broken words.

"what do you have in mind?" you replied, still stroking his cock with your own spit as you waited for his answer.

"i want to do what i told you earlier today" he mumbled, his fingers lost on your hair "i want to fill all of your wholes at once"

your chest felt 10 times heavier when you listened him saying that "how are you planning on doing that?"

his head reincorporated and his eyes fixed against yours again "get on the bed and let me show you".

with strangled breath you got up from your knees and removed the rest of your dress, laying down with your legs opened as jisung enjoyed the whole scene. he removed his shirt and, quickly, one of his fingers approached the back pocket of his jeans, taking out a condom before getting himself out of them and his underwear. "what are your thoughts on anal sex, princess?"

the mere question made you swallow hard. you have had anal sex before, but it was hardly any pleasure to you. the pain was almost unberable and, after 1 or 2 minutes, you would end up wanting to quit already.

"not my favorite" you reply "but i can give it one last try"

he wrapped the condom around his already wetted cock, looking at how you flinched at the thought of his big lenght forcing himself into your tight hole. "don't worry, i will make sure you find it pleasing."

you got on all 4's in front of him as that position was the easiest for anal sex, but internally pouted at the thought of not being able to see his pretty face as he pounded into you. jisung, as if he was reading your mind, came up with a solution that made your core throb even more. "turn this way" he ordered, indicating you to face the edge of the bed instead of the bedframe. you did as he commanded, looking how he gracefully placed the mirror right in front of your body. "i need you to see how good i can ruin you with my lack of experience" he sarcastically teased.

as you were waiting for him, you saw his reflection taking up things from his drawer as he positioned himself behind you. "i will try my best not to hurt you" he moaned, feeling the sensation of the lube against his cock "but even if it hurts a little bit, i will make sure you enjoy the pain".

with that being said, and after pouring some of the lube in you too, you felt an extremely painful stretch on your hole. "fuck, jisung" you cried loudly, not longer caring about people outside hearing your whines over the loud music. "oh god, fuck"

"i know you can take it" he moaned, his teeth biting his lower lip as the feeling of how tight you were was driving him insane "be good and take me".

your knuckles soon were pale as you hold on to the sheets for your life, feeling extreme pain as he forced his big lenght into you. it was almost unbearable, but his grunts and moans only made your core throbbing for more.

without warning, he withdrew a little bit only to push himself into you again, starting to build a very slow pace. "does this hurts too much or is it getting you off?" his dark voice murmured.

barely a few seconds after he talked, you could already feel the familiar pressure on your lower abdomen indicating that you were too aroused to even think properly. it was painful, but knowing that it was him causing you pain only made things more pleasurable.

for the first time you dared to look in the mirror. the imagine of you being barely able to hold your weight on your arms and knees as jisung's gaze was completely fixed on you only made you move your hips slightly. "go on, i can take you"

jisung let out a smirk as he continued thrusting inside you slowly, admiring how you whined and cried at the sensation of his cock stretching you out a bit more every time. you were no longer worried about people finding out that someone was fucking inside that room, in fact, if anything it made you even more excited.

one of your hands approached your clit as the other one tried its best to keep you still, jisung's eyes focused on how pretty your ass looked bouncing on his cock over and over again.

one of his hands left your hips to focus on your slit, slightly brushing it over as he threatened to put a finger inside you. "do you think you can take me here too?" he asked, faking empathy.

without even giving him a proper answer you nodded eagerly, almost screaming at the feeling of two of his fingers pumping inside you as his cock was still on your ass. "god i-"

you let out another loud moan as the pace of his digits matched his cock, your fingers sloppily trying to give your clit any stimulation so the pleasure could feel 10 times better. "you better moan louder for me, pretty" he groaned, his hips bucking against you even rougher than before "i don't think the people outside have heard you and i really want them to know how much of a cockslut you are being for me"

it wasn't like you were following his pleas, but the moans, whines and cries came out of you naturally as he fucked both of your holes at the same time. the knot was threatening to come undone at any second and the sight of you being fucked by the one person you dreamt of every single night was not helping at all. "ji, i can't take it"

"awww" he mocked with high-pitched breath "are you about to cum again from being fuck on the ass?"

"god-" you screamed, almost losing balance as jisung grabbed a fistful on your hair making your whole body closer to him.

"look at yourself, y/n" he demanded, his grip on your hair making you face the mirror "acting all bratty and proud, but still letting me fill you up completely. isn't it obvious how bad you desired me?"

"jisung i am cuming" you barely articulated, your whole body completely weak as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. jisung's left arm locked you by putting pressure on your breasts, his fingers making their way to your mouth.

"open" he ordered, you sucking on his fingers as you orgasm approached you in the most aggressive way.

not only was he fucking your ass, but his right hand was also working on your cunt too as his left hand was using your mouth. he owned your three holes just like he promised too.

not a few seconds later, you heard how he orgasmed too. his grunts and moans against your ear were the sweeted sounds you have ever heard. "fuck"

with a subtle movement he placed you on your fours again, pulling himself out of you as he removed the condom. your whole body was aching, but it was a good kind of pain. a pleasent one.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, completely fucked out with tears on your eyes and messy hair. your ass was still up on the air, your core was still dripping with your own juices and your heartbeat was extremely fast.

you had been avoiding this exact moment for weeks, but you wouldn't deny the fact that jisung pleasured you exactly the way you wanted to be satisfy. the moral part of you no longer cared about loyalty or betrayal, all it cared about was pleasure.

and boy did this man was the exact definition of that concept.

"so, y/n" he murmured, coming closer to the bed again "would you help me study tomorrow too?"

#stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #jisung smut #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz imagines #skz oneshots #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

1K notes · View notes

a-room-of-my-own · 3 years

Text

A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory. For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting. RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a quote nicked from someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult- but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” .

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology. The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate.

Babies come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they get pushed out or dragged out into the world.

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia.

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named.

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this.

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance. Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth would be doing the best for the patient in front of them.

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk. They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia Appleby judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had defended against transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender, perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones.

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect.

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime on medication but not out of choice. Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.

Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having their rights taken away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s beautiful and strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body.

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge?

#gender critical #feminism #transgender #judith butler #suzanne moore

100 notes · View notes

peppermintbee · 4 years

Text

OMORI has poor writing (Part 1)

OMORI stans, just block the #omori hate tag now because I’m going to use it to vent my frustrations with this game. If you love this game, I am not going to try to convince you otherwise. I am glad you enjoyed it so much. I am glad it means a lot to you. I’m not here to take that away from you. I honestly wish I felt the same way!

However, if you are like me and finished the game feeling disappointed, underwhelmed, and maybe a little frustrated, then I am here to say you are not alone. OMORI--while having the right set pieces for an interesting game--is a narrative mess.

I’m splitting this into two posts. This first post is about problems with the plot. The second is about problems with the message/moral.

(Note: I use “OMORI” in all-caps for the game title, and “Omori” in title case for the character name.)

Spoilers and criticism below.

Part 1: Plot Writing Lies

There’s a book by Brian McDonald called Invisible Ink which is about how to write a compelling story (you can read this great book online for free here). There’s an explanation of the writing “lie” that I find myself frequently thinking of. A “lie” in this context does not mean something is literally untrue, it means something FEELS untrue, unrealistic, improbable, or unlikely. For example, if a character gets shot in the leg but manages to do parkour, this is a “lie” since it seems unrealistic for that to happen. If a character witnesses their beloved parent’s death and shrugs it off, it’s a “lie” because that reaction seems highly unlikely.

In OMORI, the plot is held together by multiple little lies that--try as I might--I just couldn’t bring myself to believe.

1. Sunny’s friends care about him, and vice versa

A major theme of the game is how friendship can overcome any obstacle. Friendship gets Sunny over his fear of heights, spiders, and water. Friendship is what Sunny remembers before the final boss fight, and allows him to face his guilt and defeat it (and prevent him from committing suicide). With the photobook and dialogue you are reminded over and over and over and over and over again that Sunny’s friends love him unconditionally.

However, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The childhood memories are cute but shallow, boiling down to simply hanging out and eating treats. Plus, Kel and Aubrey fight constantly, with Aubrey even physically hitting Kel when he steps out of line. Hero and Mari behave more like babysitters than true friends to the younger kids.

But at least the other kids interact with each other. Sunny, on the other hand, showed nearly no affection or consideration towards his friends. He floats through the memories like a ghost--he could have been completely absent from all the photos and it would have made little difference. I was ready to accept this as Sunny being an unreliable narrator and not thinking he was a good enough for his friends, but this never contradicted. Instead we are given even more memories where Sunny just silently exists there being “cute.”

[Sunny enriching the lives of his friends by LARPING as a cat.]

Because of the lack of meaningful interactions between them, there was nothing in the game that made me think that these 12-15 year olds would have a strong enough bond that would survive 3-4 years of no contact after finding their friend hanged. In fact, that discovery only drove them farther apart. The only person who I could believe actually had a close bond was Basil, who almost literally filled that trope of being the friend who would help you bury a body (or in this case, help Sunny cover up the accidental manslaughter).

The writing fix for this would be simple: instead of showing us the same boring birthday and beach scenes over again, give the kids memories of overcoming some age-appropriate adversity together: heartbreak over an unrequited crush, anxiety over homework, sports injury, lost dogs, divorced parents, running away from home, bullying, etc. Set a precedent of the friends supporting each other through good times AND bad times. Without such backstory, Sunny’s friendships allegedly giving him the courage to overcome his guilt feels like a lie.

2. Sunny abandoning Basil in the bathroom scene

One of the most confusing moments in the game was Sunny’s negligence when Basil has his first breakdown in his bathroom. This part of the game is player-controlled, which is a strange writing decision because all you can do is click on Basil and various bathroom amenities over and over which completely saps the urgency out of the scene. When you try to leave, Basil begs Sunny to stay, but (due to a lack of player options) Sunny walks out without a word. With no option to talk to him OR get help for him, it makes Sunny seem exceptionally cruel to Basil. In fact, I was starting to wonder if the game was setting up for some sort of twist that Sunny DIDN’T care about his friends, which would fix some of the confusion in point #1. However, as we know, that is not the case. Therefore, Sunny’s negligence/apathy towards Basil’s pain feels like a lie.

The writing fix would be to make it MORE clear that Sunny is intentionally running away from Basil. Make it a cutscene, or, give a false choice such as “Leave Basil? Yes / Yes”. After Sunny leaves, Kel should make some remark about Sunny looking odd, “You look sort of shaken up, is there something you want to tell me?” then hit it home with Sunny shaking his head. This would make it more clear that Sunny is intentionally hiding Basil’s state, as opposed to just being a bad friend. As it stands, it just felt like a writing mistake.

3. Basil and Sunny working together to stage Mari’s death as a suicide

This is the plot hole that I see the most complaints over, but it’s so big I have to address it. Accidentally pushing Mari down the stairs I understand, but the rest is too absurd. Below are some of the “lies” that the writing tries to get away with:

That Sunny and Basil wouldn’t just claim she slipped and fell.

That either boy would even come up with this sick plan.

That they wouldn’t back out of this idea during the multi-step process (carrying her downstairs, outside, getting the jump rope, tying a noose, putting it around her neck, stringing her up, hiding the evidence... This is a series of multiple decisions, not one quick accident like the initial push.)

That it’s not the image of Mari’s death that traumatized Sunny, but the image of what they chose to do to her body that traumatized them. I understand the image of Mari hanging is more dramatic, but they literally did it themselves so why is that more haunting than Sunny killing her?

That Mari’s true cause of death wouldn’t be immediately obvious to the parents, the police, the friends, EVERYONE. (I’ve seen fans try to get rid of this plot hole by hypothesizing that the parents knew and covered it up, but the evidence of this is circumstantial at best. The father saying, “You’re not my son,” is unreliable since it happens in Sunny’s headspace. Divorce is common after the death of a child, and, at the very least, Sunny’s mom doesn’t show any evidence of knowing what happened. The way it is written, only Sunny and Basil know the truth.)

The ridiculousness of this twist is so extreme that it completely broke any immersion I had left. Frankly, the reveal that the happy, loveable Mari committed suicide is a far heavier and more realistic twist than a crazy murder-cover-up story is.

Additionally, it seems like Basil was only written into this scene in order to make Sunny the true victim of what happened. After all, Sunny may have pushed her, but it was Basil who came up with the demented cover up. (This is apparent from just the photos but the datamined Truth Album confirms it.) By having Basil come up with the plan, the game splits the guilt between the two of them to make the kids easier to sympathize with. It’s problematic because if Basil was not in the scene, there would be no way to justify what Sunny did to Mari. So why is what they did easier to accept when they worked together?

Fixing the writing lie: Sunny lies and says that Mari slipped. Remove Basil from the scene, and instead have Sunny confide in Basil which forces Basil to become a co-conspirator and burdens him with the terrible truth.

4. Sunny’s friends forgiving him and Basil for what they did to Mari

Last but not least, the story heavily implies that Hero, Kel, and Aubrey will forgive Basil and Sunny for what they did to Mari. I found this to be almost as unbelievable as the staged-suicide stunt.

It feels like a lie since the group’s friendship is never established as anything beyond shallow hang outs from 3+ years ago (see point #1).

It feels like a lie because this is hot off the heels of Aubrey being so distraught over Mari and the following fall out that in the last three days she 1.) attacked Sunny and Kel with a nail bat TWICE, 2.) Stole Basil’s photobook, and 3.) Shoved Basil in the lake. This trauma is still very fresh for her.

It feels like a lie because the complexity of the staged-suicide is so extreme, one would be hard pressed to forgive ANYONE for doing that, be it friend, foe, parent, sibling, lover, etc.

I’ve seen fans argue that the ending is not about forgiveness, it’s about telling the truth, and I want to believe that. Really. If the ending was about Sunny starting his redemption arc by telling the truth no matter what the consequences are, that would be a meaningful lesson. But the writing does not support that. The ending headspace segments are focused on assuring Sunny that his friends will support/forgive him no matter what. To do this, the game shows us the shallow photobook memories (again) to show how much they allegedly care about each other. Then, when fighting Omori, Sunny remembers these quotes from his friends, which directly correlate to their unconditional support:

KEL: Friends... Friends are supposed to be there for each other.

AUBREY: I hope you can find some peace... or you know... some happiness.

HERO: We made the mistake of leaving each other when we needed each other the most. This time... we’ll stay together.

BASIL: Maybe one day... things can go back to the way they were before.

The really direct evidence that this ending is about getting forgiveness is this quote from Basil in Sunny’s headspace:

[BASIL: “AUBREY, KEL and HERO are good friends. You have to trust that they’ll forgive us.”]

This is one of the last scenes before Sunny tells his friends the truth, proving that obtaining forgiveness from his FRIENDS is in fact the leading motivation for Sunny’s actions.

Fixing this writing lie is easy. Instead, adjust the writing to be about telling the truth, not about how much the friends will still love Sunny. Have headspace Basil say, “Even if they don’t forgive us, Aubrey, Kel, and Hero deserve to know the truth. It’s the only way to make things right... or close to it.”

Conclusion

OMORI is undeniably a cute game with a strong visual identity, and has a premise that could make for a very compelling experience. However, the sloppy plot and weak character writing cause the potential of this game to be squandered. There are other issues as well that I chose not to cover for the sake of time, such as the poor pacing of the dragged out dungeons and the bizarre, unrealistic behavior of characters in the “real” world.

However, there are a few more glaring problems with OMORI that I have to address: In part 2 of my critique, I break down what may be the biggest problem with OMORI’s writing: the message.

[ Link to Part 2: OMORI’s Message is Mishandled and Distasteful ]

#omori #omori hate #omori spoilers #review #words #fun fact i named sunny 'moony' so I had to consciously change all the moons to suns in this essay #suicide cw

215 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Wrecker x Homesick Reader (Part Two!)

A continuation of this ex-one-shot, but you can probably pick up everything you need to know from context.

Wrecker x f!reader: hint of romance toward the end

Word Count: 2,300 ish

Warnings: none

---

You stood outside of the infamous Havoc Marauder, staring up at the ship with nerves tingling in your stomach.

Okay, coming here had seemed like a fine idea when Wrecker suggested it. Last night, it had even seemed like it might be fun. Added to Wrecker's promise that Tech would amp up the power and reach of your comlink? You had agreed to be here without a second thought.

Now, this finally seemed like a bad idea. The Marauder was looking rough after Clone Force 99's latest crash-landing, you had no idea if Wrecker had spoken to Tech on your behalf, and you hadn't even seen Wrecker that day. Plus, stupid as it sounded even in your own thoughts, you had never actually walked up to a ship without being expected. Were you supposed to knock? Shout? Should you just wait and hope they saw you?

As you stood, undecided, you thought seriously about going back to your quarters. If you were having second thoughts about this, Wrecker probably was, too. It would probably be best for everyone if you just left…

But then hydraulics hissed and the doors opened and the stairs attached to the ship dropped down. Tech appeared in the doorway, peering at you.

"You are the one Wrecker invited here, correct?"

"Uh. Correct?" you answered doubtfully. "He told me you might be able to help me with my comlink."

"Of course I can help you," Tech replied, his casual confidence making you quirk an eyebrow. He lifted his head to glance at the sky for a moment. "You'll have to come onboard the ship, however. The light conditions out here are too intense for such detailed work."

"Yeah, sure," you agreed, following him inside.

The Havoc Marauder was a smaller ship than the ones you had gotten used to at your time at Spearpoint Outpost. Of course, that may have been because a sheet hanging from the ceiling separated the entrance and cockpit from the rest of the living area, but you understood and respected the need for privacy. Four men living in such close quarters probably tried to keep things as separated as possible.

With that in mind, you resisted the urge to peek behind the truly giant sheet to see the Bad Batch's bunk space. Instead, you followed Tech up to the front of the Marauder. To your surprise, Sergeant Hunter was also in the small area. Remembering his keen senses and reluctance to be too close to other people, you stopped immediately.

"Do you want me to wait outside?" you offered. "I don't mind."

"Nah, come on in," Hunter invited. "I'm just doing some maintenance checks. Go ahead and sit down, though. I don't want to risk us clashing heads if either of us moves the wrong way."

You watched the sergeant for a moment to see if he was joking. The two of you weren’t even close to the same height, so several things would need to go wrong before you worried about bumping heads. You thought you saw an amused glitter in his dark eyes, but you had already begun turning toward the co-pilot's seat.

Tech sat down in the other seat. "Don't panic," he said bracingly, and he had ripped the cover off of your comlink before you had time to ask what he meant. Despite the warning, you still flinched at the noise of your comlink being broken.

You watched him in silence for a few long minutes, engrossed in the minute details of his work.

"Wrecker mentioned that you need this range increase to speak with your friends," Tech said, his quiet voice making you jump in the silence of the ship.

"My family, actually," you corrected.

You realized that the quiet sounds of Hunter working in the cabin behind you had stopped. You glanced back in his direction and he began fiddling with some exposed wires again.

"Where are you from?" Tech asked. "I'm certain Wrecker mentioned it before, but I cannot remember a place."

Wrecker talked about you? Feeling unreasonably warmed by that, you answered, "Bespin. Cloud City."

"Supposed to be beautiful there," Hunter said behind you.

"It is," you agreed readily. "Especially the sunrises. Or the sunsets, really. There are always clouds, so on a good day, the sun reflects off the water until the air is filled with more rainbows than there are stars in the sky."

"Impossible," Tech started, but Hunter cut him off.

"You must miss it. Sounds like you left a lot behind to be here."

You shrugged. "Not as much as some. Still, this was the right thing to do. I don't regret my choices."

Tech worked in silence for a while after that, doing something complex to the electrical components of the comlink.

Eventually, he said, "I've heard Bespin has odd customs. Parents often let their children form romantic relationships at early ages and people are encouraged to remain with those partners."

You didn't answer that and Tech glanced up at you questioningly. His fingers didn't stop manipulating the micro-spanner. The comlink sparked loudly and you grimaced. You hadn't even known a comlink could do that.

"Don't you need to… you know, concentrate?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice polite. You couldn't really afford a new comlink right now, and even when you could, a new communicator would take forever to arrive somewhere as remote as Spearpoint.

Rather than look back at the comlink, Tech's eyes slid over to where Hunter stood behind you, silent once more. Before you could turn as well, Tech’s gaze was back on the small device.

Sudden realization flashed through your mind. Tech's questions, Hunter's halting work on the Marauder… They were testing you. This was an interview to see if you were good enough for Wrecker.

You had always been excellent at interviews.

You sat straighter in the chair, dropping the tension from your shoulders as you fixed Tech with a sincere smile.

"You're thinking of Bespin as it was a thousand years ago," you told Tech, satisfied when he looked up at you with surprise half-hidden behind his goggles. "Those traditions were from before we had stable hover-lifts to keep cities at even elevation levels. It would be too difficult to re-identify a city that had dropped, risen, or otherwise changed locations. Young adults were encouraged to find someone they considered a potential romantic partner and share a dwelling before they lost each other forever."

"I…" Tech blinked. "I was unaware."

"We have a lot of legends about it," you said kindly. "Some of them are very widespread, so it isn't surprising you would have found one. I can recommend a good holotext about how we got to a more uniform elevation level and the shift to a more standard form of courtship. If you're interested, of course."

"I am extremely interested," Tech assured. "Have courtship rituals on Bespin changed, then?"

You shrugged. "Probably as much as those of any society that has been inhabited as long as Bespin. I wouldn't know a lot, personally. My first relationship wasn't until I had gone to college on Alderaan, and it certainly wasn’t with anyone from Bespin.”

Tech hummed quietly at that, refocusing his attention on your comlink. You waited to see what his next question would be, but the only noise in the cockpit was the sound of approaching footsteps.

You turned to find Crosshair stepping through the doorway. You managed a smile - not that it was appreciated or returned by the scowling trooper - but started to get anxious again. Where is Wrecker? Surely he hadn’t decided that you were more trouble than you were worth. If he had, why would his brothers be interrogating you?

Tech cleared his throat. “Did you stay on Alderaan long-?”

“You’re the one who spends so much time with Wrecker,” Crosshair said, staring at you. You nodded rather than risk displaying your nervousness in your voice. Crosshair grimaced. “Why?”

“Why… what?” you asked, utterly confused by his question.

“Well, most people find him irritating,” Crosshair pointed out, folding his arms across his lean chest. “Don’t you?”

“Never,” you replied instantly, your voice a bit too passionate for such a small space. “Wrecker is sweet and funny and cares more about others than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s amazing. If some people think he’s irritating, that’s their loss.”

Crosshair inclined his head at you before turning back toward the large sheet separating the living quarters from the cockpit. “There you go; an honest opinion.”

You blushed scarlet as the sheet dropped to reveal Wrecker. Apparently, the biggest Bad Batcher had been holding it in place pressed against the ceiling. You were marveling at that for a few precious seconds, but Wrecker had already moved on.

Beaming at you, Crosshair, and anyone else who bothered to look in your direction, Wrecker cheered, “Great!”

“Subtle, Crosshair,” Hunter said lowly.

Crosshair shrugged. “He wanted to know, and you and Tech were taking too long.”

“So,” Wrecker started, rubbing at the back of his neck as he moved to stand in front of you. Well, he was standing behind the copilot seat, really. The cockpit was crowded with you and every member of Clone Force 99 sharing the space. “I was thinking, maybe-”

“I am finished,” Tech announced, pushing past Wrecker to claim your full attention. He presented you with your comlink and, ignoring Wrecker’s huff of annoyance, proceeded to explain exactly what he had done to the device and how it should work.

You did your best to pay attention, but it was tricky with the other members of the Bad Batch standing in the background. Wrecker, understandably, looked frustrated. Crosshair was far too amused as someone watching one of his brothers accidentally torment another one. Hunter was the one really keeping an eye on the situation. When Tech had finally started to repeat an earlier point, Hunter interrupted.

“Tech, I need your help with one of the sensors in the rear deflector shield,” Hunter said, drawing Tech away slightly. “I’ve fixed the problem and reset the sensor, but it’s still registering as a bug in the system-”

As Hunter and Tech moved further away, Crosshair gave a sardonic salute and slouched off as well. You and Wrecker were alone for the first time, and he moved to sit down in the other pilot’s chair.

Sitting down, Wrecker seemed much less physically imposing. He was an undeniably large man, but at least you were almost the same height sitting down. Well, sort of the same height. Okay, not really the same height at all, but closer than when you were both standing.

Wrecker sat extremely upright in his chair as he started to speak. “Okay, now that they’re finally gone, I wanted to ask: would you maybe think about having dinner with me tonight? Here? I’ll get rid of the guys and we can have anything you want and I already cleaned just in case you said yes, but if you say yes, I’ll clean again just to make sure it’s really clean-”

“Wrecker!” you said laughingly, holding up your hands as if to stifle the stream of words. “I would be glad to have dinner with you. Thank you for asking me. It already looks clean in here, so please don’t feel like you need to go to any trouble.”

“That’s great!” Wrecker enthused after he had sat staring at you for a solid 20 seconds. He opened his arms. “Hug?”

“I’d love one, thanks,” you accepted gratefully, sliding forward until you left your chair.

Wrecker didn’t even give you a chance to stand all the way before he had wrapped you in another warm, squeezing embrace. You returned it as well as you could, but he pulled back sooner than he had the night before. You raised a curious eyebrow at him, but Wrecker gently disentangled himself from you and settled you back on your own seat.

“Actually, I have something else I need to say, and you need to be over there so you can be comfortable.” You raised both eyebrows at that, as well as at the sincere expression on Wrecker’s scarred face.

He avoided your eyes, but said it anyway: “I want to be more than friends. I… like you, but more than that. You know? Maybe you don’t. But I just wanted to make sure you knew that I would be happy to be your friend. If all you want is to be my friend, I think that’s great and I’m excited to be part of your new family here. Ugh, I’m messing this all up…”

You moved closer again, grabbing Wrecker’s hand as you did. “Wrecker, I’m glad you like me as more than a friend. It’s- That’s how I feel about you, too.”

“Really?” Wrecker breathed, definitely the quietest tone you had ever heard him use.

His eyes were lit up with hope and you smiled as you confirmed, “Really. But I haven’t dated a lot of people and I get the feeling it might be the same for you? So maybe we should take things slow.”

“That sounds amazing,” Wrecker agreed. “So should we reschedule dinner for another time?”

You smiled softly, hoping it didn’t come off condescending. “We don’t need to move that slowly, not if you’re comfortable with us having dinner together. I would like for us to be friends, too.”

“So it’s okay if I do this?” Wrecker asked, pulling your linked hands up to brush a kiss on the back of your hand.

It was such a simple, innocent gesture, but you had to fight a blush as you nodded. “It’s definitely okay if you do that.”

The pair of you grinned at each other like fools for an embarrassingly long time before you remembered a line you should draw. “Just please don’t leave me alone with your brothers again. They’re terrifying when they’re trying to look out for you.”

“I promise,” Wrecker said sincerely. “Though they like you, if that helps.”

“Thank goodness for that,” you murmured, glancing through the Marauder’s viewport to find Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair watching the two of you with knowing smirks.

---

A/N - All of the stuff about Bespin was invented by me. I know it's not correct, but it was fun to write and I have no regrets! Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out other works on my masterlist or make a request!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #star wars fanfiction #wrecker #hunter #crosshair #tech #bad batch wrecker #bad batch hunter #bad batch crosshair #bad batch tech #star wars fic #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you

82 notes · View notes

furiousgoldfish · 4 years

Text

I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.

So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.

Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.

My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.

And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.

I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.

It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.

Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.

The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.

The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.

I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.

For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.

And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.

I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.

It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.

Maybe one day I will be able to.

I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.

If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!

#cptsd #complex ptsd #ptsd recovery #tw self harm #story of recovery #trauma #abuse recovery #trauma symptoms #chronic pain #chronic exhaustion #freeze response

164 notes · View notes

worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Sweets (Soft Yandere! Jungkook)

You keep being visited by the most peculiar thief…

➵ in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing…

➵ Warnings: Soft Yandere Jungkook, Breaking & Entering but without the Breaking, Reader is a bit of a ditz (lol sorry guys)

➵ Word Count: 4.2K

➵ Masterlist

“Hello, uh, I’d like to… report a crime?”

Your statement, which had always sounded suitably firm and assertive when you practised it in front of the bathroom mirror, ended with an unplanned upturn, making it sound more like a question than you would like.

“Please state your name and address, ma’am.”

You did so, listening anxiously to the tap of a keyboard as your information was filed away. The undoubtedly over-worked police officer on the other end of the line sounded like he was two seconds from falling asleep, and you questioned yourself for the millionth time over whether you really needed to report this or not.

“What is the nature of the crime you are reporting, ma’am?”

“Um… well…”

You twisted your hand into the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, trying to decide the best way to explain the strange little occurrences that had been surrounding your apartment over the last few months. You had not yet found a way to put it without sounding ridiculous, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

“I, uh, I think someone’s breaking into my apartment and stealing things.”

“You have an intruder?”

“Uh huh,”

“…Are they currently in your residence?”

“No, I think… they come and take things when I’m not here and then they’re gone by the time I get back.”

“What items have been stolen?”

You bit your lip.

“I know it sounds silly, but…”

“No crime is too small to report, ma’am. We are committed to making the lives of everyday citizens safer.”

“Well… they’ve stolen my lip balm like… several times. I keep buying new ones and they keep being stolen after a week or so. And my perfume. And my hairbrush one time, and-”

“Ma’am,” The officer cut you off with the impatience you had been both anticipating and dreading ever since you decided to call the police, “Listen, we don’t have the capacity to deal with prank callers-”

“It’s not a prank call!” You blurted, a momentary burst of desperation overtaking you, “I- um, sorry for interrupting, officer, but this isn’t a prank call. Things have been going missing. I can’t afford to keep replacing my lip balm.”

A sigh crackled across the line, and you pictured the officer maybe taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose like those people in movies always seemed to do when they got frustrated. Personally, you had never found that it helped.

“Are you sure you aren’t just… misplacing them?”

You gasped, offended that even a stranger could think you so stupid. “No! I remember exactly where I leave things and then they just vanish! I swear!”

“Has anything of value ever been taken from your apartment?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, excited to be able to prove the officer wrong, “My bunny plushy! Mr Snuggles is extremely valuable to me!”

“…Monetary value, I meant. Has anything expensive ever been taken from your apartment?”

There was an embarrassing silence. The officer sighed again, with a little more exasperation colouring his tone.

“If anything significant is stolen, call us back. For now, just… be a bit more careful with your possessions.”

He hung up. You pressed your forehead against the wall and wished your strange thief had taken your phone in one of his little visits. Maybe then you would’ve avoided making that agonising call.

The next morning as you were leaving to go to class, you noticed a pile of discarded post-it notes on your desk — the remnants of a redbull-fuelled late night study session. Your newly purchased lip balm lay next to it. Impulsively, you grabbed a pen and scrawled a message on one of the post-its, sticking it horizontally to the curved surface of the lip balm tube.

it reads:

pls don’t take this i just bought it and this brand is actually v expensive and i am only a struggling college student with loans and chapped lips (。•́︿•̀。)

It might have been a little too polite considering it’s intended recipient was someone who had stolen multiple items from your apartment, but you figured there was no point in being rude. They probably wouldn’t even read it anyway.

You strolled out of your apartment, planning to pick up a smoothie on the way to your lecture, and promptly forgot all about it.

When you returned home to find a pile of newly bought lip balms on your desk — all embossed with the logo of your favourite brand — you were slightly puzzled. But, once you remembered the note you had left- well, the confusion didn’t exactly vanish, but at least you were given some context.

The note had disappeared, along with the lip balm you had used a scant few times. But, you didn’t understand what the thief’s aim was. Why on earth would they steal small things like lip balm and perfume? And why would they buy you new copies of the product? Wasn’t that counterproductive?

you’re very bad at your job

Your next note read, stuck to your fridge as you left to grab coffee with your study group. It remained there for a few days, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart sank a little each time you saw it hadn’t been taken.

After six days, when it finally vanished, you felt an odd sense of happiness bubble up within you. Yes, there was someone routinely breaking into your apartment, but at least now you had an open channel of communication with them. They had left a brand new bottle of your preferred perfume — which had been stolen at least twice before you stopped bothering to buy it because perfume is pricy — resting on your kitchen counter, beside a box of your favourite chocolates.

As you dug into the box later, snuggled in a blanket and having a Studio Ghibli film marathon, you didn’t even consider the fact that the sweets might be tampered with. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve killed me already, you reasoned to yourself, sucking the icing sugar off your fingers. Nor did you question how they knew your favourite chocolate. If they broke into your apartment as much as you assumed they did, they probably knew you better than your own parents by now.

You were the very definition of a broke college student. As far as you were concerned, if this random stranger wanted to buy you things and sometimes clean up your apartment — you had definitely come back to a home tidier than you had left it more than once — then you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a little naïve of you, but… you had already called the police, and they hadn’t cared.

thank you for the perfume and chocolate <3

You wrote next morning, hesitating slightly before putting the heart. Before you could convince yourself not to, you scribbled another line underneath.

i wish you’d write back someday…

As you walked to class, you scolded yourself for the butterflies swooping in your stomach. They’re literally a criminal, you told yourself, Stop getting crushes on anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention. You don’t even know their name.

Despite the small amount of common sense that you did have mocking you all day, you sat in classes and daydreamed about your mystery home intruder. Would they read the note? Would they be happy about your appreciation? Would they — you bit your lip — would they write back?

You felt like a dumb schoolgirl, excited by the prospect of a badly written love note shoved in her locker. And, like a school girl, you trudged back home with your arms weighed down by class work, a billion essays and quizzes that had to be completed overnight. Did your professors not realise you had a life outside of college? Not that you did, of course, but like… in principle.

You were so preoccupied with the coursework that you didn’t even notice the note stuck to your bedroom door. After an hour of studying, you rose wearily to start fixing yourself something to eat, and your eyes snagged on a flash of yellow.

You squeaked, almost falling over yourself in your rush to get to the door and read the note.

i’m glad you liked them. i’m sorry i took your things, that was mean of me. i tried to only take things you wouldn’t miss, but i guess that backfired… i just wanted to feel close to you. and these notes… are the closest i’ve ever been. i know that must sound weird, but… well. i’m a weird guy, i guess. i just liked hearing from you. that’s all.

~ koo <3

You didn’t stop freaking out for a full five minutes. After that, you poured over every detail of the letter, eager to extricate any fragment of knowledge possible. You ended up with a list which you scribbled down in your diary, above which you pasted the note.

The list went as follows:

They want to feel close to you

They have not talked to you before, since the notes are the closest they’ve ever been, but they must have seen you in person at least once

They are a he

(you adamantly did not get flustered about that)

and

4. He calls himself Koo

When you left your apartment the next morning, you placed your note on the exact same spot he had left his. An indirect touch.

hi koo !!!!!!!!

i was so excited to see you had written something!! you know, if you want to talk to me more often, there is an easier way…

Underneath you had scrawled your phone number, hastily and not allowing for regret before you flounced out of the apartment. The reason why you were in such a rush was because you were about to go to your favourite class: Photography 101.

You had taken it as an extra credit, something that interested you but not enough that you wanted to pursue it as a career. You had expected it to be fun, something artistic to break up the monotony of classes. What you had not expected was the dreamy boy who sat in the first row and had full possession of your heart.

You didn’t even know his name, but you were pretty sure you were half in love with him. With fluffy brown hair that fell over his forehead whenever he leaned over to scribble down notes, and cute bunny teeth that stuck out in a flustered smile whenever the professor praised his work in class, he was perhaps the cutest boy you had ever seen.

Though you were sure he had many girls sighing after him, he seemed to be really shy, only ever speaking in class when called on, and even then it was in a quiet, soft voice. He was kind of like you in that respect. But that was where your similarities ended.

Yes, you thought, sighing as you watched him pay avid attention to the professor’s lecture on the composition of frames, his cute doe eyes wide and twinkling like stars were embedded in the pupils, He is way out of my league.

It took three days for you to lose hope. You hadn’t received a text, nor had you found any notes left for you. You tried not to be disappointed, even as your traitorous sub-conscience mocked you for being able to scare away the one person who arguably paid you the most attention.

You didn’t really have many friends, and the ones you did have preferred each other over you, and often left you out of activities because of your shy nature. You guessed this whole thing had just been a way to feel like you actually mattered to someone, like, for once, someone cared about you, but-

You were pulled out of your musings as your phone chimed.

From: Unknown Number

[6:48 PM]

this is koo

The two of you texted every day, and soon enough you were hiding your phone underneath your desk in order to chat to him, keeping your phone on your person at all times in case koo wanted to talk. Of course, the only class you didn’t do this in was Photography, so you could spend a blissful forty-five minutes staring at the boy who played the role of your husband in all of your favourite daydreams.

Koo still broke into your house occasionally, and he still left you sweet, considerate gifts. Often, you would receive texts like this:

From: koo ✨

[3:24 PM]

sweets i’ve been checking your groceries and your vegetables are not being eaten as often as they should be

i know you have a sweet tooth and that’s cute but please try to stay healthy

To: koo ✨

[3:25 PM]

but i can’t cook all i know how to make is microwaveable mac n cheese :///////

You came back home that day to discover a bunch of Tupperwares full of pre-made healthy meals and a note stuck to the top of them.

try microwaving these :)

To: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

koo are you awake?

From: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

i am now

what’s wrong?

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i can’t sleep :////////

From: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

sweets you need to go to bed

you have an early morning class

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i knowwwwww

i just… i can’t sleep without mr snuggles :((

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Mr Snuggles??

???

To: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

my cuddly bunny :((((

i think you took him a while ago

could i maybe have him back…?

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Shit

i didn’t know you couldn’t sleep without him

[3:04 AM]

sweets im so sorry

To: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

its okay koo

From: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

no it isn’t

you’re loosing sleep because of me

fuck

i could… bring him to you?

To: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

you’d do that?

…i could see you?

From: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

no i’d leave him outside

you’d have to promise not to come out until i text you saying i’ve left

To: koo ✨

[3:06 AM]

but kooooo :(((((

From: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

sweets

To: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

okay :((((((((((

but i expect you to leave a big box of chocolates on my pillow for me to come home to tomorrow evening!!

From: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

of course sweets <3

im gonna get going now

don’t look outside your apartment

To: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

okay

From: koo ✨

[3:34 AM]

im gone and mr snuggles is waiting outside for you

he might have a little gift with him

You trudged outside your apartment, rubbing your eyes blearily, and looked down to see your beloved plushie clutching a single rose in its paws. You gasped, leaning down to pick up the flower gently, and you noticed all the thorns had been taken off. Koo must’ve removed them so that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself.

You felt warmth flood you, drowning the butterflies in your stomach and replacing them with something much less fleeting, much less shallow.

It sunk into your bones, into your heart, into your breath as you sighed, squeezing your long-lost Mr Snuggles close to your face. He carried the familiar scent of nostalgia, but also something different, something sharper. You realised with a jolt that you were smelling Koo’s cologne.

You went back to bed, nuzzled your face into the plushy’s furry belly, and dreamed of fluffy brown hair and bunny smiles.

Though with Mr Snuggles’ help you were able to sleep wonderfully, you were only able to do so for four hours before your alarm jolted you back into early reality. Honestly, you were sorely tempted to just ditch class, but it was Photography, and if you missed your regular dose of the cute boy in the front row then you thought you might just crumble into dust.

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your softest oversized hoodie — a gift from Koo which, now that you thought about it, smelled like the same cologne that Mr Snuggles did. You flushed at the thought of him giving you one of his hoodies to wear, though you couldn’t say exactly why that image charmed you.

You stumbled into the lecture, arms full of textbooks because you knew you wouldn’t have the energy to return back to your apartment to retrieve the relevant materials for your next class later in the day. Your excellent plan was to crash in the library directly after this, have a two hour power-nap, and then make yourself get up in time for Calculus.

You barely had the energy to listen to the professor droning on and on about… the perfect lense, or whatever. You allowed yourself the indulgence of tuning out, resting your chin on your palm and gazing dreamily at the boy in the front row. He was taking notes, as per usual. What a good student! You praised him in your head. I bet he has the best handwriting.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep within ten minutes. You were woken as the class concluded by the clamour of students grabbing their materials and the scrape of chairs as your classmates stood up, leaving you behind — the only one half-splayed across the desk in front of you.

You jerked upright, grabbing your stuff in one hand as you tried to tug on your bag, eventually succeeding with much struggle, only to drop it all again as soon as you stood up. You whimpered, watching helplessly as your textbooks fanned across the floor. You saw one of them split along the spine as it landed on an open page.

That cost me two hundred dollars, you thought absently, and I just chucked it down like a bouncy ball.

Suddenly, you glimpsed someone crouching down and gathering them all up into a sturdy pile. As he stood up, your vision was full of fluffy brown hair, errant strands falling into star-filled doe eyes.

Oh. Oh no.

“H-Here you are,” He murmured, passing you the pile gently, making sure you were able to take the weight before leaving them in your arms. When he leaned close to you, you breathed in a scent that was oddly familiar, and yet new at the same time. As his hands receded, his skin brushed against yours for a second and you swear your vision blanked out.

“Thanks,” You whispered, your gaze so firmly focused on the floor that you didn’t notice his flushed cheeks.

As soon as you got to the library, you whipped out your phone, all tiredness banished from your system by that momentous experience. You had talked to him.

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

koo i think im in love

From: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

what

with who

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

this boy in my photography class

he’s just so-

[8:48 AM]

i can’t even explain it

i dropped my textbooks and he picked them up for me and i stg i almost cried

From: koo ✨

[8:48 AM]

wait

seriously??

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah i cry at like the drop of a hat

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

no-

cute

but i mean

that’s who you’re in love with?

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah?

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

gray sweater

[8:50 AM]

big eyes

tall-ish

that’s him???

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMG YOU’RE IN MY PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS AREN’T YOU

From: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

WHAT

IM NOT

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMGGGGGGG

YOU SAW HIM HELP ME SO YOU MUST BE IN MY CLASSSS

[8:51]

okay!

are you the frat guy who always comes in hungover???

no judgement

From: koo ✨

[8:51 AM]

To: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

are you the guy who only ever wears knitwear???

From: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

…are you the professor?

From: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

NO!!!!!

oh my god lets just meet up or something before i explode

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

WAIT

ARE YOU SERIOUS????

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

…you’re that excited to meet me?

To: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

OF COURSE I AM

OH MY GODDDD

WHEN?

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

now?

i can meet you at the campus coffee shop in like five minutes?

To: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

five minutes???

that’s not enough time koo i have to go home and pick out something pretty to wear !!

From: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always beautiful to me

To: koo ✨

[8:56 AM]

you

you think im

b-beautiful

: ’ ))))))))))

From: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

…

haha see you there!!

To: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

GET BACK HERE WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS-

You sat on an empty table, fiddling with the tea bag tag which hung over the side of your mug. You had bought Green Tea as an effort to calm yourself down so you weren’t too anxious to meet Koo, but it hadn’t worked because you were impatient and sipped it too soon so now you were sat there nursing a burnt tongue like an idiot.

You knew it was irrational to be self-conscious. He already knew who you were, and seemed to like you, it was just you that was in the dark. You went over the possible people Koo could be, mentally cycling through the boys in your photography class. It was an annoyingly large class, which meant he would be anyone from the guy who smelled like Funyuns to-

Fluffy-haired boy strolled into the coffee shop and you let out an involuntary sigh. He seemed to be cheerful, a smile exposing his bunny teeth and making his cheeks bunch up adorably, with like, five different sets of dimples poked into them. You had never agreed more with the saying that dimples were caused by an angel’s kiss.

Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at while I wait, you thought, just before all your thoughts suddenly tipped out of your head when you realised he was walking towards your table.

“Is this seat taken?” He grinned, before sliding into the seat across from you.

You whimpered, and his smile grew devastatingly wider.

“Hi,” He breathed, before his gaze flickered down to your mug of tea, clutched so tightly in your hands that you worried the ceramic might shatter. “You didn’t get hot chocolate? I thought you had a sweet tooth?”

“Uhm-” You choked, before forcing yourself to get a grip. How would Koo feel if he walked in here and saw you sitting with another guy? “I’m actually- I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

If it was possible — and it certainly seemed to be — the boy’s grin broadened even more, his eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons.

“Is that so? Is he your boyfriend?”

“No!” You blurted, before flushing profusely. The boy across from you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the display. “I mean- uhm, I don’t know. Maybe? This is our- this is our first actual meeting.”

“Oh?” The boy tilted his head, “Really? How exciting.”

You hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on your slowly cooling beverage. You raised it to your mouth to take a hesitant sip and- nope, still too hot. You whined quietly, rubbing your sore tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and soothe it.

“Oh, sweets,” The boy murmured across from you, and you were too distracted to notice the nickname. He plucked the mug out of your hands and placed it on the other side of the table, as if he was trying to make sure it couldn’t hurt you anymore. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the campus infirmary?”

“Wha- no, it’s okay,” You mumbled, lisping slightly on your burnt tongue and blushing when he cooed over you, “It’s- I’m waiting here for someone, and- I mean, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Jungkook,” He interrupted cheekily, deliberately ignoring the rest of your statement, “Some people call me Kookie, and really special people call me… Koo.”

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

“Really special people?” You asked, your voice small, and not because of the burn.

“Well, people…” Jungkook- Koo paraphrased, tilting his head slightly, “I guess it would be more accurate to say… one really special person.”

“Really?” You breathed, and Jungkook leaned over the table, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the same scent embedded in the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie.

“The most special person.” He murmured, the fervent emotion packed in each word speaking louder than any increase of volume could.

You had never been anyone’s most special person before, but, as you looked into Jungkook’s chocolate eyes, you started to believe you could almost taste it, sticky sweet on your lips. And when Jungkook eventually, finally coaxed your lips in a gentle kiss, you let him in, and found out that happiness tastes reassuringly honey-sweet.

#bts fanfiction #Yandere bts #soft yandere bts #yandere jungkook #soft yandere jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yandere kpop #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts jungkook imagines #bts Jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook

2K notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Adoption (part 2)

A gift for @a-flower-lover! This wound up being more along the lines of vignettes... Little snapshots into Danny’s life after being adopted by Clockwork. I hope that’s ok! (PART 1)

Mr. Lancer had met Charles Worth before, albeit briefly. The man had fostered a number of Casper High students and with that responsibility came parent-teacher conferences. He had struck Mr. Lancer as being steady and reliable, if, perhaps, impersonal, despite his predilection for clocks and ominous announcements. A decent foster parent, if not... ideal.

Mr. Worth just didn't seem to connect with his fosters, although he certainly didn't neglect them. Then, too, were the persistent rumors that his home was haunted.

Alright. So, Mr. Lancer didn't think Charles Worth was really a children person. Oh, he was a good person! It took one to do well as a foster parent, but... yeah.

Which was why the scene in front of him surprised him so much. Not the who of it, but the what.

The who was Daniel Fenton and Charles Worth waiting outside the office. The what was smiling and having a conversation. True, Mr. Fenton's smile looked like it was pasted on over several layers of anxiety, but it was genuine.

"Mr. Worth, Mr. Fenton?" he said, tamping down his surprise. "Come on in."

"Hi," said Mr. Fenton, his voice hoarse.

Mr. Worth smiled and nodded, pushing him up with his cane.

But Mr. Fenton must have noticed the curious look Mr. Lancer was giving him. "I knew Cl- Uh. Mr. Worth before this." He winced and smiled widely to cover it up. "So, uh, make up work? Since I missed the past week?"

"Yes, well, circumstances being what they are," aka his parents trying to murder him in public, in broad daylight (and didn't that give Mr. Lancer a chill?), "your teachers have put together a few packets for you to look over this weekend. They should get you more or less up to speed with where your classes are. I'm also willing to stay after school, to help you with anything you've missed in my classes."

Jazz knocked on the door of the Worth house. She had been made aware, via various supernatural (she did not particularly appreciate writing suddenly appearing on her fogged-up bathroom mirror) and mundane (Danny did have her phone number) means, that the man known as Charles Worth was actually the ghost known as Clockwork.

How this had occurred was not entirely clear to her. She assumed ghost powers, specifically time travel, were involved somehow.

But, to be honest, that didn't really matter to her. It was secondary, less than.

What was important here was that she hadn't been legally allowed to see her little brother in over a month. To keep her parents from contacting him. To keep her from letting her parents near him. Because they were legally barred from seeing him.

Because they had tried to kill him.

Jazz planned on never seeing her parents again, as soon as she got all of her and Danny's things from their house.

But now that prohibition had been lifted, because Clockwork had forced through what had to be the speediest adoption in the history of adoptions, and Danny was now legally his son. In the eyes of both humans and ghosts. Which was... Well. Danny seemed to be excited about it, anyway. He'd looked up to Clockwork for a while, from what he told Jazz.

Internally, Jazz had more than a bit of trepidation. She didn't know what adoption meant to ghosts, didn't have any context for it. And ghosts, even the good ones, even Danny, tended to be... obsessive. Extreme. She wasn't sure how that would translate when it came to interpersonal relationships.

The door creaked open, ever so slowly, the squeak it made grating on her eardrums. At first, it appeared to have opened on its own, then a hand gripped the edge of the door, and Clockwork, in human guise, leaned out from behind it.

Jazz raised an eyebrow.

Clockwork raised one right back. "This house is haunted, you know," he said.

Okay, never mind. The only thing she had to worry about was the fact that her brother and his mentor both had terrible senses of humor.

"Hi, Jazz!"

Being used to having a half-ghost brother, Jazz only yelped a little bit at his unexpected appearance behind her. Then she sighed and ruffled his hair. He hugged her and then bounced over the lintel into the house.

"Come on! I want to show you my room! It's so cool!" His voice became fainter as he went farther into the house, until his last exclamation was an eerie whisper.

Jazz looked at Clockwork as she stepped inside. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

Clockwork smiled blandly. "I am very fond of the acoustics in this house."

She looked at her surroundings with a skeptical eye. "It seems... dark in here."

"We are ghosts," said Clockwork. "Daniel is very excited to show you his room, by the way."

"He's human, too, don't forget," said Jazz.

"I won't."

The house was creepy.

Really creepy.

This was coming from someone who had spent most of her life living under the same roof as two ghost-obsessed mad scientists.

But Danny seemed to enjoy it, and he was the one living here. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with the house. Or anything in the house. It was just... off.

Danny was half-ghost, however, so maybe this was something he needed. Perhaps not all of his peppiness could be attributed to being the heck away from his murderous former parents.

Even so. Jazz had a duty, both as a big sister and an aspiring psychologist.

"I already read it," said Clockwork, setting a cup of tea down in front of her.

"What?"

"The book you were about to give me. I've already read it. And a number of others. I am not the kind of person who goes into things unprepared."

Danny rolled into the kitchen on the ceiling. This was easy to ignore. After her life, an Exorcist reference made by her over-excited younger brother, was, well. Underwhelming.

(Okay, she was a little distracted, but only by his glee.)

"Well," she said. "That's good."

"I know this house is out of the way," said Clockwork, craning his neck to look up at his coworker, "but you are rather conspicuous."

"Hm. Am I?" asked Pandora, craning her neck down to look at her comparatively tiny colleague.

"Yes. At that size, humans with average eyesight will be able to see you from town."

Pandora looked out over the trees. "Interesting," she said, mildly. "Do you think the ghost hunters will come?"

"You've spoken to Daniel."

"Yes. He stopped by earlier today, on his way to visit Mattingly. Although, I suppose you knew that already."

"Indeed I did. May I ask, is it your intention to lure the ghost hunters here, fight them, defeat them, and then leave them just close enough to here to constitute a breach of their terms of bail and the restraining order against them?"

"I am not terribly well-versed in human law," said Pandora, "but, why, yes. That is exactly what I'm doing. Best to get it done while Daniel is visiting friends, isn't it?"

"Yes. If you had done this while he was here, I would be significantly more annoyed." Clockwork smiled the sanguine smile of a parental figure who would commit murder if their child was upset.

Pandora returned a matching grin, one that promised retribution against persons who had harmed said child in the past. "Please, Clockwork. You know me better than that. I wouldn't subject him to being in the presence of those fools."

"Good," said Clockwork, eyes glinting.

"Hey, Clockwork? Do you know why there were police cars driving down the- Oh. Hello?" He stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar woman sitting at the dinning room table, next to Clockwork. He blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Wait. Pandora?"

"Perceptive," said the superficially human olive-skinned woman. "You seemed so happy when you stopped by, earlier. I thought I would come check in on you."

"You didn't have to," said Danny, beaming.

"Pandora has been trying to convince me to set her up as one of my relatives," said Clockwork, rolling his eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Daniel?"

"Umm," said Danny, dubiously. "I'll try one, I guess. Does that mean you'll be my aunt?"

Pandora smiled. "Why, yes, it does."

Clockwork groaned theatrically.

"Ah," said Mr. Lancer, at the next parent-teacher conference. "Are you Mr. Worth's wife?"

"No," said Pandora, grinning. "I'm his sister."

Mr. Lancer looked back and forth between the two very different-looking entities. "I... see."

"We're adopted," said Clockwork.

"Oh! Alright then. Now, about Daniel..."

It was a bit strange to see Danny with so much energy, Sam reflected. Strange, but good.

It just went to show how drained he had become over time, how much the constant ghost attacks and worry, all the lies and stress and impossible expectations had worn away at him over time. She hadn't seen her friend this happy since freshman year. If that.

On the other hand...

"Dude," said Tucker. "Your house is spooky. And this is coming from someone who's been inside a literal mad science lab."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mad science labs are campy, not spooky. Besides, you knew coming in that this house was haunted." He draped himself over the back of the couch, rolling until he was 'sitting' upside-down. "Anyway, what kind of movie do you want to watch? We've got a bunch, because Clockwork apparently collects media from doomed timelines."

"He's got a hobby?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, three," said Danny. "Gardening- you should talk to him about that, by the way, I think he'd like it- baking, and alternate timeline movies. And some books, too, I think. He's got a huge library back in Long Now. I've read like. Two books from it."

Clockwork's voice floated in from the other room. "You've read significantly more than that, Daniel."

"I guess," said Danny, doubtfully. He flopped off the couch, picked himself up, and started prodding at a shelf of movies. "This is from a timeline where the Earth got beaned by a massive asteroid. It's, like, a romcom, but it was made when everyone knew the asteroid was coming. This one is, uh, this is actually a dramatization of real events, apparently, but their timeline split from ours in like the fifties, so the events are pretty wild." He waved the DVD at them. "It's surreal?"

"How'd they die?" asked Tucker.

"Wacky superscience. No, really. Irradiated the entire planet."

"How do you know?" asked Sam.

"Oh, Clockwork puts notes on the boxes. He thinks it's interesting. And there does seem to be some correlation between how cursed the movies are and how bad the timeline was. Which maybe shouldn't surprise me? I mean, if they were bad timelines..." He shrugged. "Oh, this is a CGI Lion King. I can tell you: very cursed. Absolutely soulless. And this is from a timeline where copyright laws weren't changed, so Mickey Mouse and a bunch of other stuff was in the public domain."

"Isn't that a good timeline?" joked Sam.

"You'd think so," agreed Danny. "But apartheid in South Africa apparently never stopped, and they got a nuclear bomb, and, well... World War Three."

"Is that like, a domino effect, or...?"

"I'm not sure... Anyway. Uh. Genre?" He clapped his hands together.

Tucker leaned forward. "I want the wildest version of the Matrix you have."

"Ooh, good choice. There are, like, six with Will Smith. I haven't watched them all yet, but I think the one where they've got another sequel and Zion is also a- Wait, I shouldn't spoil it."

"After that, can you see if there's a non-crappy version of Dracula?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I haven't seen one yet, but I will look."

"I have popcorn," said Clockwork, entering the room, "and various baked goods. No dairy."

"You're the best."

Clockwork selected a thick blanket from the chest, then teleported himself to the living room to drape it over the three teenagers passed out on the couch. Overall, he found pretending to be human oddly enjoyable, but it could be trying at times. Tedious. All the finicky little motions humans had to go through to do the simplest of things added up over the day.

So, Clockwork tended to ease off of them when no one was watching. It made life easier.

Heh. Life.

(He would say that Daniel's puns were rubbing off on him, but in truth Clockwork's sense of humor had been like that for, well. Eons.)

He put the kitchen in order with an absent wave of his hand, and double-checked the stove out of habit. It wasn't nearly as good as his actual oven, back in Long Now, but it was serviceable.

One of Daniel's friends mumbled in their sleep, and Clockwork looked in on them. Still peaceful. It was good for Daniel to have them here. Beneficial for both his human and ghost halves.

He hummed to himself and patted Daniel's head as he thought about their plans for the weekend. He had arranged for some truly aggravating evangelical missionaries to darken their doorstep. It would do Daniel good to inspire a touch of terror. In an entirely controlled and risk-free way, of course. No matter how unpleasant the people coming were, Clockwork had no intention of harming them, or suggesting anything of the sort.

But, well. They were ghosts. Being feared was soothing.

(Clockwork knew this wasn't what Jasmine meant when she suggested Clockwork engage in family bonding activities with Daniel. But what she didn't know...)

"I think my teeth are getting sharper," said Danny, pulling a face at the mirror. "Is that normal?" The last was shouted, to get Clockwork's attention. Intellectually, Danny knew he didn't need to do that, but a lifetime of habit was hard to shake.

"It is difficult to say what is normal for someone like you, but many ghosts do have fangs," said Clockwork. "Including myself."

"Hm," said Danny. "This isn't, like, a ghost puberty thing, is it? Because I already used up most of my evil puberty jokes."

"Oh, only most?" Clockwork slid behind him and started rubbing the tension out of his shoulders.

Danny shrugged. "Eh, give or take. But, seriously."

"No, it isn't a ghost puberty thing."

"Oh, good. Because dealing with one puberty is more than enough."

Clockwork was silent. Danny looked up and met troubled eyes in the mirror.

"Clockwork?"

"Daniel," started Clockwork, before giving Danny an uneasy smile. "Speaking of puberty..."

Danny blanched. "No."

"What?"

"No. Nope. Not doing the talk today, no sir. I got that at school."

"Daniel, as strange as Casper High may be at times, I highly doubt they taught you anything about immortality."

"What."

"It's why ghosts put so much forethought into relationships like this," explained Clockwork, careful not to look directly at Daniel's hiding place. "They might last forever. I certainly hope this one does."

"But I don't want to be a teenager forever!" wailed Danny. He had mastered the art of making his voice sound like it was coming from a completely different direction than it actually was.

Clockwork was older than human civilization and had been worshiped as a god by several civilizations. He did not wince at the heartbreak in his child's voice.

"Your shapeshifting abilities should come in after a few years," said Clockwork. "You'll be able to pass as older."

Daniel answered with a moan.

"I must confess, I'm not sure why you are so upset about this. I can see that you are, but could you explain why for me?"

"I don't knoooooowww..."

"I don't want everyone to die and leave me alone," admitted Danny, hunched over a carton of ice cream. "I don't want to see my- my people die." He sniffled.

"We don't have to stay in Amity Park if you don't want to," said Clockwork.

Danny shook his head. "No! That's worse," he said, hating how his voice tilted into a whine. "That's- I can't abandon them! I can't- can't miss their time. I just..." He let out a huff of air. "It's hard."

Clockwork wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "It may not help much," he said, "but people in Amity Park have a much higher chance of becoming ghosts. It's the ectoplasm in the air."

"Promise?" asked Danny.

"Promise. Although, who, exactly, becomes a ghost is outside of my control. All I can tell you is that the people here have a better chance."

Danny leaned against Clockwork. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Clockwork?"

"Yes?"

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

"Of course not."

Mr. Lancer squinted down at Daniel Fenton's latest assignment with a mix of appreciation, disbelief, and shame. This was easily the best work he had ever received from Daniel. In fact, it rivaled papers he had received from Jasmine.

It made him wonder- How long had Daniel been suffering? What had Daniel been suffering? He was no expert when it came to abuse, but all teachers had some training, and he knew that abusers tended to escalate, starting with something relatively innocuous and ending with a travesty. For things to progress to attempted murder... What had it started as? When had it begun?

(Could Mr. Lancer have stopped it?)

(That question would haunt him more than any ghost.)

Well, there was a silver lining to this, Mr. Lancer supposed. He had rarely seen two people who got along as well as Daniel and Charles Worth. It was good, he thought, for the man to have someone in his life on a more permanent basis, rather than the revolving door of temporary foster children.

How rapidly the adoption went through was a little odd, but... Mr. Lancer shrugged. Undoubtedly, Mr. Worth had taken the time over his years as a foster parent to familiarize himself with the system, and with Daniel's former parents unfit to be anywhere near children...

He shrugged again and stamped Daniel's paper with an A+.

#danny phantom #gift #prize #winner #fic #phanfiction

313 notes · View notes

hybridowllymain · 4 years

Text

Some context for this snippet first; someone posted a lovely fun prompt on the discord, and I immediately went "but what if it was ANGST?!"

My version was Tony and Stephen adopt, but are woefully unprepared for what would mean. They're schedules are erratic, and they struggle to balance their work, their parenting, and their relationship. They're barely skating along, but they are managing it for a while, held up by how very much they love Peter, and how much they love each other (even if they are starting to think the other doesn't love them back).

And then Peter gets sick. It's not anything treatable, but an extreme cold or something, just something that has to be waited out. But Stephen can't accept that, digging into medical and magical solutions to the point of not spending time with his struggling family. And then, one night, after they finally get poor Peter to bed, they go to the kitchen, and immediately start arguing. And that's this scene.

----------

"I can't just sit by and watch-" Stephen whispered furiously, helpless and so tired but still not wanting to wake up Peter.

"You can't-" Tony started, scoffed, folded his arms over his chest. "If you want to leave, then leave!"

"That's not what I said!" Stephen argued.

"Well that's what it sounded like!" Tony yelled, just a little too loud. They both stopped, listened for a moment to hear if they had woken Peter. Their breathing was loud in the quiet kitchen, but there was no sound of Peter stirring. They didn't look at each other.

"Do you… do you really want me to leave?" Stephen asked, quiet. He tried not to let the hurt enter his voice, keep it impassive and unemotional because getting emotional never solves anything. It seeped in at the corners, all the same.

Tony wiped his face, clearly tired.

"I don't want you to stay if you don't want to." Tony said with finality. He still wouldn't look at Stephen. Stephen let out a frustrated sigh.

"That's not what I asked Tony."

"I don't want you to stay if you hate it here." Tony continued, and it's not an answer to Stephen's question, but it punches Stephen in the gut. "If you hate me."

"Tony. Tony, no, that's not what I-" Stephen started, then stopped, trying to organize his suddenly chaotic thoughts. "I'm going crazy because I'm afraid of losing everything I care about. My sister… she got sick. I couldn't do anything. She died."

Stephen bit back the tears talking about this always brought, but it didn't work, not this time. He took a shaky breath, continuing. "But I know so much more now. I thought surely, surely now- but I am so scared, because what if with everything I've learned, it's still not enough?"

He was reached out with his words, showing his vulnerable side in a way he hates doing, hoping to get things back in order. But Tony felt so far away, even across the kitchen.

"My parents, they weren't around much." Tony admitted after a long moment of silence. It sounded like a non sequitur, but Stephen listened. "If they didn't want to be there, they weren't. Only Jarvis ever stuck around, and- well, he was many things, but he was also on the payroll."

Tony laughed; it wasn't a happy sound, bitter.

"I don't know what I'm trying to say. Damnit, why is this so hard? I-" Tony broke off, scrubbed at his eyes, but didn't move them from covering them when he was done, the other arm wrapped around himself, self soothing. Stephen noticed he was shaking.

How long had he been shaking? How long had Tony been carrying this fear, that Stephen would eventually just… leave?

Stephen didn't know where he stood, how to fix this. This wasn't a fact he could memorize, a procedure he could learn. This was Tony. So he started with something he knew he could work off of, even if it was the most terrifying thing he could think to do at that moment.

"May I hold you?" Stephen asked. He knew Tony could say no. That Tony had every reason to say no. And if Tony said no, Stephen would have to accept it; that Tony didn't want Stephen near him anymore, maybe didn't love him anymore.

But miraculously, Tony made a choked off sound, and said, "Yeah. Yes, always."

Stephen didn't waste another second, took two big strides across the kitchen to wrap Tony in a hug. Maybe it was too tight, Stephen didn't know; but he did know Tony relaxed into it, immediately, like his whole being had been waiting for it.

"Please understand this," Stephen said, voice raw, "until you tell me to leave, I'm not going to. I'm nowhere near strong enough to let go of you unless it was to make you happy, and even then it might just kill me. I love you Tony. You and Peter. You're my whole world."

He felt Tony unwind further; like he had been just as afraid as Stephen that he wasn't loved back. That made something in Stephen loosen, some of the fear he had been carrying lose its grip. Tony still loved him. He leaned his head against Tony’s, breathing in his scent and the relief of that fact. They still loved each other.

"I didn't think I had it in me to be as happy as you make me, but I do." Stephen continued softly, more sure of himself now. "You can believe whatever else you want about me, but understand that is where I am coming from. I want to make this work, whatever it looks like. I want to be a family, with you and our son."

Stephen took a deep breath, lifted his head so he could look at Tony head on. Tony was still looking away though, blinking hard. "Look at me Tony. Do you want the same thing?"

Tony looked at Stephen, searching. Stephen didn't hide, not this time. His heart was on his sleeve, and he knew Tony could shatter it with a word. But he had to try.

Eventually, Tony must have seen what he was looking for, because he nods.

"Yes, I do." Tony said, and Stephen can see he's telling the truth; he might not believe Stephen yet, but they could work on that.

"Good. Because if we know that, we can do anything." He knew this wasn't over, far from it; but he couldn't help the relief he felt from making its way into his voice. Maybe he didn't need to hide it at all. "Can I kiss you?"

Tony gave a wet chuckle, and it sounded exhausted, but also like happiness, like disbelieving hope.

"You'd better, before I start talking about my teen years." Tony joked, his already erratic breathing going rougher when Stephen leaned in close.

"I want to hear it all, Tony." Stephen said, breathing it on Tony's lips like the promise it is. "I want all of you, the good and the bad. And until you get tired of me, I plan to find out everything you are willing to give me."

"So everything, and forever," Tony said, and Stephen felt Tony's lips quirk in a smile, knew his were doing the same.

"Everything and forever." Stephen promised, and kissed his husband.

#ironstrange prompt #ironstrange #tony stark x stephen strange #filling my own damn prompt #small scene #skipping past the hard stuff and straight to the catharsis #because that's just how I roll

56 notes · View notes

sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 4 years

Text

Ain’t Family Great? ~ Lucifer Morningstar x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You have come from a very religious household, and they don’t take too kindly when they heard that you are dating someone literally named the devil.

Author’s Note: I literally got this idea from seeing a dialogue prompt on Pinterest, and it just spiraled out of control.

Trigger Warning: Curse words, some innuendos, biblical literalism, religious talk (It is Lucifer)

You were a friend and coworker of Chloe Decker, you mostly worked in the background doing research and gathering the data on the criminals and suspects of the cases your unit was working on. That is how you met Lucifer, Chloe asked you to gather information on two main suspects on a case she was working on and Lucifer was lingering on in the background.

When you gave Chloe the information you gathered and she left, Lucifer piped up, “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you before” “That’s because I mostly work on research stuff for cases, so I do a lot of the office work and investigative work that requires me to be in a chair for the whole day. My name’s (Y/N), Chloe’s mentioned you before,” you replied with a small smile. “Ah I hope not all of them are terrible, even if I am the Devil I like to think I have a certain amount of charm,” he said with a smirk.

That’s when you first heard him call himself the devil, and if you were honest with yourself you were always curious about his name: Lucifer Morningstar.

You grew up in an extremely religious household, which at times felt like you were suffocating from the relentless biblical literalism that was upheld in your house. You were always curious about the Devil in the biblical stories and you always found the quote by Mark Twain interesting if read in a certain context otherwise it’ll sound like an angsty emo kid trying to be philosophical.

There was an instance where you were on a case with Chloe and Lucifer, and the killer had said, “Oh, you know that phrase? The devil made me do it? It felt like that”

You let out a light snort at that as you immediately responded, “The devil didn’t make you do anything. Your poor impulse control and anger management, and might I add quite a horrid spectacle of internet history could certainly be a bad combination to make you do something.”

After the case, Lucifer was very curious about your statement towards the killer as you guys headed to a cafe to get some lunch together, he asks, “Why were you so against the man using that phrase? I mean I hate it because it is so demeaning, I’ve got better things to do.”

You shrugged as you sipped your beverage and responded, “I don’t know, maybe it’s partly because of my very religious family which I have realized how much bullshit I was forced to listen to since I was born, so I guess I grew to have sympathy for the devil.” “Oh really?” Lucifer’s small smile grew to a smirk as he leaned forward, Chloe swatted him to move back.

“Not you. I don’t know you, but one of my favorite quotes about the devil is from Mark Twain,” you commented. “I don’t think I have,” he continued to have that smirk on his face. He was very handsome but he was so goddamn annoying, you thought. “Well, it goes: ‘Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?’ Like, there’s this whole thing about redemption in the Bible and catholicism but does the Devil ever get the chance to get his redemption? No, I think God wanted a scapegoat and he got it from a rebel,” you ranted.

Lucifer looked shocked for a moment but gathered his posture and said, “Well, you thought about this quite a bit. I assume because of your family?” You just shrugged at first, took a sip from your drink, then nodded. “Their family is very strict, I thought my family was weird but they got me beat, ” Chloe informed him.

“They stopped talking to me, they didn’t think that I was enough for them. It hurt at first but y’know as time moves on I figured that I have better things to do than wallow in my past, so I realized I needed help so I got therapy and now I’m here,” you surmised. “Family is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Filling us with traumas and issues since we were created,” Lucifer commented.

Time has passed between that first case with Lucifer and Chloe, now whenever they needed an extra pair of eyes they’d call on you to help with them. It was an interesting dynamic that you and Lucifer had developed over the weeks that you were going with them on cases. You were able to talk about literally anything with Lucifer, he made you feel comfortable which is odd since his persistence on him calling himself the Devil. By him associating himself with it, you thought he was supposed to be like an actual bad guy, but gauging his reaction to your conversation about your first case with them, you made a realization that because of his name people treat like the actual devil.

One day, you went through your mail in the apartment lobby and spotted a letter that was from your hometown, and another one with the return address being your parents’ house. ‘The hell is this?’ you thought.

When you opened the first one you found a wedding invitation that your cousin was inviting you to, you were actually pretty close with this cousin, she was really chill and she understands the conservative and religious household you used to live in. The second one was your parents’ basically condemning you from being at your cousin’s wedding, and that pissed you off. You were a grown adult, you would be damned if you’d let your parents try to control you anymore.

You decided to go out to LUX, because if there is one person who understands controlling parents it was Lucifer and maybe he’d be able to give you the extra courage you need to stand up to your parents. You had on your favorite party outfit, and when you entered the club you could feel the thrum of energy and the bass of the music go straight to your heart. As you walked to the bar you spotted Maze whom you’ve met before when you came here out of Lucifer’s request, you waved her over.

“What can I get for you?” She asked. “I’m sure you know what’s the best drink here, so I’ll leave that to you,” you said. You turned around to just watch the crowd and started to get a little nervous about the idea of going back to your hometown for the wedding, you love your cousin but hate your parents. So, you were at a bit of a crossroads with this. While you were watching the crowd you saw Lucifer come up to you with a big grin on his face.

“Well, hello (Y/N) this is a surprise. What brings you here?” Lucifer beamed.

“I actually came here to see you, to ask for advice,” you replied.

“A horrible decision really,” he smirked.

“My cousin invited me to her wedding but my parents know and basically condemned me from going to the wedding, and I’m unsure of whether to just stay here in L.A. or to go to the wedding and just be resilient against what my parents’ might say to me,” you said crossing your arms and rubbing them back and forth.

“Well, that sounds like quite a situation you got yourself in”

“I know, that’s why I am asking what I should do?”

“You know I’m all about that rebellion against parental figures, so I say go to the wedding and have a good time, your parents be damned. In fact, I would never say no to a party, so I could come up with you,” he added with a wink.

“Would you like to be my plus one? But please don’t start anything with my parents,” you begged him.

“I thought you’d never ask, and I can’t promise you that,” he smirked.

After, that conversation both of you got ready for travelling out to your hometown and you made sure to bring the outfits that gave you the most confidence in yourself because you knew that you’d need that.

You admitted to yourself a while ago that you had a crush on Lucifer, he was hot as hell, always polite with you, and treated you with genuine interest and respect. You also made a promise to not let your feelings get caught in the middle of your mission. You are going to have a good time at this wedding, congratulate your cousin and just have a good time.

Both of you made it one piece to the hotel that Lucifer somehow booked without your knowledge, because you swore you got a cheap motel room but as you tried to convince Lucifer to let you go to your motel room, he just said, “Are you crazy? I’m the devil for a reason, darling, I got connections everywhere and plus this place is much more spacious. We don’t need to sleep in the same bed if that’s what’s making you uncomfortable.”

“I just thought you would probably be looking for hookups or something and would want your own hotel room for that stuff,” you sputtered.

“Well if that comes to it, I’ll go to their room because I wanted to give you the comfiest place to go back to because I know how family can be,” Lucifer answered.

“That’s really nice of you, y’know for someone insisting he’s the devil you can be really sweet.”

The hotel room was really nice, it had two bedrooms and a large tv screen in front of the dining area. As time moved on and you guys decided to decompress and relax on one bed and decided to just mindlessly watch the tv. You fell asleep and Lucifer watched you for a moment as he realized you were asleep, he put you under the covers and fell asleep next to you.

The next day you woke up to the sunlight hitting your eyes, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and as you took a deep breath in you smelled something delicious. You turned around and saw Lucifer cooking breakfast with his shirt half undone and his hair all curled up.

“Good morning (Y/N), how did you sleep?” Lucifer asked.

“Pretty good, actually,” you answered with a yawn still trying to wake up.

As you both ate breakfast in relative comfortable silence, you looked at your phone and noticed the time. “Shit, we should get ready to go to the church and the party afterwards,” you told him as you got up and went to your suitcase to gather your things.

After what seems like hours to both of you, you managed to get out of the hotel room and to the church. Lucifer dropped you off in front of the church as he wanted to find a parking space for his car. As you waited in front of the church you noticed your parents walking to the church and felt your stomach churn as they were inching closer to you. Your mom looked furious and it was like her whole head was on fire how red it was. Your dad had a more quiet anger to him but you saw the clenched fists and the tightened jaw on him. You put out a little prayer to whoever to get Lucifer faster to you.

“What are you doing here? I thought we told you to not come here,” your mother sneered.

“The last time I checked I am a grown adult and (Y/C/N) invited me to their wedding,” you stated.

“Listen here you bitch, you are a disgrace to this family and that is why we didn’t want you here,” your mother hissed.

Before you could get another word in you heard Lucifer, “Oh there you are, love, I was looking for you.” He kissed the side of your head as he wrapped a hand around your waist and looked at your parents as he continued, “You must be (Y/N)’s parents, I’m her boyfriend, a pleasure to meet you.”

You looked at him a bit surprised and your parents’ faces were that of a gulping goldfish. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar,” he stated.

“Like the devil?” your father said with apprehension in his voice, he made your mom step back behind him.

“Oh, I’m not as bad as the books say, you know,” Lucifer spoke with a wink.

“Quiet, evil one,” your dad sneered.

“Oooh, name-calling so fearsome, “ Lucifer scoffed. He looked towards you as you were just staring at the three of them. “C’mon love, we’ve got a wedding to go to, can’t be late.”

After that encounter the wedding reception went quite beautifully, you may or may not have teared up hearing your cousin and their spouse recite their vows. When you both went to the after-party you both stayed away from your parents and they seemed to have lost interest after that conversation earlier.

A slow dance came on while you were at the bar getting a drink when Lucifer appeared next and offered you his hand. You just raised an eyebrow at him in response and just said, “I thought you weren’t the type for slow dancing?” “Only with the right partner I find it enjoyable,” he smirked with a wink.

You hit him on the chest playfully and replied, “How do you know I’d be the right partner?” you asked. “Ooh I’d figure you’d be good at from the first day I saw you” he quipped. “Okay show me your moves, then,” you replied, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor.

He led most of the dances, keeping you close to his chest with his hand on your back. It was nice, the rhythm of his heartbeat in your ear was very soothing as well as him occasionally humming with the song if he knew, which more often than not he did.

You looked at him and you both started to stare at each other’s eyes. You felt your eyes flutter between his eyes and his lips, he was doing the same to you. His hand cupped the back of your head and he engulfed your mouth with his. You kissed back with as much passion, but as soon as he was kissing you it was over. That kiss left you wanting more and you subconsciously leaned in closer to him.

“Wow” you whispered looking at him. Lucifer just smiled at you for a second. “I hope you wouldn’t mind if you became my real girlfriend then a spontaneous fake one?” he asked. “I would love nothing more Lucifer,” you replied with a huge grin. “Let’s get out of here then, love,” he said as he took your hand and led you out of the building and back to your shared hotel room. This time there didn’t need to be any excuses to sleep next to each other, you just did.

#lucifer #lucifer fox imagines #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer fox x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader

295 notes · View notes

captain-aralias · 3 years

Text

Life stuff

this feels kind of weird, because i’ve never used my tumblr like this, but i would have written something on my livejournal, and i want people to know - i just dont want to have to tell people about it, or really talk about it at all.

but i also wanted to write this, idk.

(TW: impending death of a parent)

my mum has cancer.

it’s a rare form of cancer, called peritoneal cancer, which is similar to but different from ovarian cancer - i think it mostly gets diagnosed (like my mum’s) when it’s too late to do anything about it. all the treatment has been palliative only i.e. letting her live as long and as comfortably as possible.

she was diagnosed in september last year - about a year ago, a few months after running the ‘virtual’ london marathon on the isle of wight, where she lives, and obviously deep in lockdown.

as someone undergoing chemo, she was deemed extremely vulnerable to covid, and so she spent most of the early pandemic isolating. she also said she didn’t see any point in my brother and i visitng her, particularly given the risks, because we could talk via facetime - which is fair enough - all of which meant my brother and i didn’t go to visit her until May this year, after she’d done the first lot of chemo and was already doing much better again.

a few months after that, we found out that while she’d responded really well to the chemo, her cancer wasn’t responding at all to the maintenance drugs that were suposed to stop it coming back, so she came off the drugs completely. medical advice was basically chemo is as effective whenever you do it, so you might as well enjoy your life for a while, we’ll monitor it every month, and when things start to get too bad, we’ll put you back in chemo.

it’s friday tomorrow - so two fridays ago, i saw my mum in london after she’d just seen hamilton with her partner, graham. both of them loved hamilton. her hair had grown back, she seemed pretty normal. about a week later, she was in A&E - and she’s been in the hospital all week. she’s got a total bowel obstruction, which means she can’t eat and hasn’t eaten since last week.

now in a weird situation where there are a few tricky, difficult options (including being moved off the island back onto the mainland to a bigger hospital) that will mean that she stays alive long enough to get the chemo, which will probably get her back to hamilton-watching strength, or ... she could die really soon. like, in a few days.

we can’t visit. her partner can’t visit because covid - there’s this really sad-making photo of him looking happy on the phone through a window to my mum, also on the phone, inside the hospital.

i feel...

???? :( :( :( ....

i guess this is the main point of the post. i’m not writing this crying, i’m writing it pretty neutrally - because my brain isn’t really processing it right now, and mostly doesn’t process it.

i did cry earlier today while on the phone to various people, and then i went back to work. i hate crying, i hate being sad, and i dont like people comforting me, because it makes me realise that i have something to be sad about.

i’ve known she had cancer for a year. i haven’t been able to hang out with her most of that time. i would say, we are fairly close, although not nearly as close as some families. we don’t talk every week, but we talk regularly, and have seen each other regularly.

i’m so incredibly privileged that nothing that bad has ever happened to me, even though i’m 35. i’ve never been to a funeral, which seemed like a major life win and now i think was a mistake, i should have gone to funerals for people i card about less to help get used to it.

the literal only comparison i have to how i feel is when my cat Anton died suddenly about 3 years ago - i handled it with a mix of not thinking about it, being intensely sad for as brief a period as i could, and probably by thinking about how sad my girlfriend was about it, and sort of sidestepping my own feelings in comparison.

i remember when my last remaining grandparent died - and i was about 14 or something - i wasn’t sad for myself, i was only sad for her my dad being sad. for ages, i worried that i was not going to be sad enough about this - and i still sort of am.

but i also passionately hate the idea of being sad and i know i’ll look to avoid it as much as possible, and try and get on with my life.

i know my mum dying isn’t about me - when people write after death it’s about the person who died, obviously. that makes sense. but this post isn’t about my mum, who is a very cool person, much cooler than me - it’s about me. because i am self-obsessed and this is going to wreck my life for a while.

it’s weird, because i can see it on the horizon but it’s not happening yet. and i dont know whether that’s good or bad - i feel like it’s good, in a way. someone ages ago told me that the grieving period starts when you get the news. that seems very true to me - but also, i know that it’s going to ramp up, and so i’m like in the expectation of true grief right now.

it’s sort of like she died, but also is still going to die, but also i can magically still talk to her. which is really nice, in a way, it’s like a second chance, because i know i didn’t reach out enough before she had cancer. and i’m aware enough of my own actions that i know this is what’s been going on in my head the past year - i should reach out more, because she has cancer, but i dont want to make it seem like i’m reaching out because she has cancer, even though she knows i know she has cancer....... and also, i’m busy writing this fic. /o\

the fact that she seemed to recover (even though my mum insisted on saying ‘i am not recovered, i’m going to die soon’ like several time as a day as a disclaimer) also totally messed with my head, because i knew logically - ok, it’s happening. but also, things seemed so normal when we speak. even when i called her today, and she hasn’t eaten for a week, it seemed normal.

btw - i realised this week i had no idea how cancer killed people. my mum is a scientist and has looked up all kinds of things about what’s killing her; i’m clearly a simon snow and didn’t want to think about things i can’t help. if you’d asked me, i’d have said like... it poisons you or something, or blocks bloodflow to your brain. not what i think will actually do it which is.... starvation. or being too weak to survive being pumped full of the poison that is intended to kill the cancer. (that one i guess i could have predicted.) man - cancer sucks. i mean, we all knew it.

(i failed to get into cambridge university at interview stage, many years ago. the man who interviewed me gave me some extremely memorable feedback, which is that i needed to dial back the ‘defensive irony’ - which i thnk in that context meant i put myself down and tried to make a joke of everything. i remember when i got the phonecall to say Anton, my cat, was dead, i literally did not know what to do with my voice - because my instinct was to try and make the vet feel better, and also to present myself as bright and capable, and yet this unexpected and devasting news had just come through. rainbow wrote something sort of similar because she’s a good writer, for shepard as he tells penny about his curse. i feel like that.)

what else did i want to say?

i thought i had more time. ‘hamilton’ will probably always be tied to this moment in my mind, because of how much i’ve spoken to my mum about it in the past few weeks (i sent her the remix - she liked it, she listened to it in hospital while trying to drink more than 100ml of fluids) but yeah - this is basically a line from hamilton here. whatever. don’t make me feel my own feelings, let me just quote things. i dont like my own feelings. (no, i dont want to go to therapy - they’d make me talk about my feelings all the time, i’m british for god’s sake.)

i’m 35 - my mum is 68. i didn’t think she’d die this early or that i’d have to deal with this yet. but then i also don’t think bad things are ever going to happen to me - because mostly they haven’t, see above. i wear a mask and am double vaccinated because i’m not an asshole, but i dont really believe i’ll get covid because bad things don’t happen to me. i didn’t think my mum would die - maybe ever, but definitely not yet. she’s been retired a decade after teaching (science) and has enjoyed it.

i thought i had time to not have kids yet - which is the other thing (like hamilton) that this moment is really tied up with for me. i feel like 35 is getting quite old, but also not that old to still not have kids, but intend to maybe have them. my feelings about kids were basically like - up until like 25, i thought, yes, definitely. i mean, before i had a realtiosnhip (22-ish), i just assumed i would probably have a het marriage and have kids etc, like people do, but after that we were still talking, yes, children at some point.

didn’t prioritise it for a few reasons - none of my close friends had children until quite recently, so it just didn’t seem like an urgent thing in the way that it probably does for people with different friendship groups. waiting to be settled enough in a job to be able to take maternity leave without it feeling like a rip off for my employer. waiting for a good time in erin’s PhD writing cycle. and then pandemic. and then a few years ago, maybe as i turned 30, i thought - maybe we won’ have kids, because we still haven’t - and i vocalised that to erin.

also, i know a lot of people are gay and have children, so it’s not like it’s a thing that is impossible at all, but it’s much much harder if you have to leave your home and your relationship in order to get a child. it has to be a very very conscious decisions. i have friend who are men who have good genes, but we’re not so close i want to ask them for their sperm/to be involved however remotely in making a child - and (i was surprised to discover) (what a lot of things i dont know anything about) you an’t really just buy sperm, it’s not truly legal except through a clinic. and it’s extremely expensive to get inseminated in a clinic, and the NHS don’t really do that, so you do have to pay it. i thought kids would be expensive after they were born, but not before. and i REALLY wanted a house, much much more than - i think even today - i’ve ever wanted a child. i REALLY wanted a house - and now we have a house, and it’s pretty good. but - that’s where the money went, until the pandemic - thanks pandemic - so now we do have some disposable cash at last, because i didn’t commute.

but now erin is worried about climate change - and wheher it’s right to bring more children into the world, and other things. and.... i think i do want to be pregnant, it’s what i’m planning for - don’t leave this job (which admittedly i also really like, and pays me well - i dont thin i need to leave) because next stop maternity leave, but.....

i don’t know whether i am thinking, time ot have kids because my best friend just had a baby (the baby’s name is horatio - for real, i actually love this name) (i also haven’t seen her or the baby except over skype, because anna - my friend - is, like my mother, also scared of pandemic) and my brain is like - ok, well, if anna is doing it, i guess the time is here

AND - i know there’s a large part of me that was like, gotta be pregnant and ideally have the baby before my mum dies so she gets to see that she had a grandchild. my brother and i are both queer, btw, in case you were wondering - he’s considering whether he wants to transition right now (but is still happy with he/him pronouns) and - you may find this astonishing, but i genuinely don’t know whether he’d consider himself ace, or has been in relationships. he’s very private, he has OCD and is in therapy - but anyway, he’s probably not having kids anytime soon (i think!) and graham - my mum’s boyfriend/partner of 10+ years. -has grandchildren, but my extremely middleclass white (but definitely not conservative voters, always 100% not-tory) parents ended up with me and my brother.... and i don’t know, as i say, i don’t know whether my brain is saying ‘have kids before it’s too late’ - although i know by now that it will be too late. even if my mum recovers from this, this time, i don’t think i can produce a child before she dies - and she isn’t asking me too, she’s not like that, but i would have liked her to be there. i thought she would be.

so - i’m thinking about that. also, about getting a dog. i really want a dog - although i don’t want to upset the three cats (one we’ve had for eight years or so, the other two we got after Anton died). it’s ALSO really hard and expensive to get a dog. you’d think with all these ‘a dog isn’t just for the pandemic, a dog is for life’ type adverts around, that it would be easy to adcidentally get a dog - i’ve looked! you ccan’t get a dog unless you have no cats and you’re super experienced and can take a dog with lots of trauma or medical problems, or you’re willing to pay thousands of pounds. like - even for a regular not even pedigree dog - at least a thousand. pedigree dog - several thousand. i dont want a puppy either - i want a dog.

and - this is embarrassing to admit, but i’ve alrady told erin - i genuinely had a phase of being super annoyed when i’d read fics where someone just ‘got a dog’. it’s not that simple!!! it’s fiction, it doesn’t matter - chill out. the baby thing too - although weirdly not fics where magic meant it was possible to get a baby, weirdly it was smut. i had a brief week or so of crazy (and i don’t think i am that crazy) where i’d read about fictional semen and just be like - wtf, it’s so hard to get hold of that shit. (it’s not real, this isn’t real semen being wasted, calm down - and i dont even really know if i want kids, i might just think i do.)

the other thing about the bad thing being soon but not yet (but also being all the time, but not if you dnt think about it) is that i’m thinking - should i prioritise writing my remix now, in case my mum dies and i’m too sad to do it, and then i didn’t do my remix? i was definitely thinking this while writing classroom politics (i hope my mum doesn’t die becaue i dont want to be too sad to miss the deadline) and in the run up to AWTWB .....

today i wrote a list of things for work that would need to be picked up if i have to unexpectedly stop working, either because i’m too sad, or because i have to do funeral stuff, or .... i guess legal stuff about settling the estate. (i guess this happens to a lot of people, too, but it’s also a bit of a mindfuck that my brother and i will inherit her house and a bunch of cash when she dies - i’m pretty well off, my brotehr does virtual reality theatre stuff so really isn’t - we’ve talked about how much easier both of our lives will be with a huge injection of cash, and how we dont know what to feel about that) (great news, dogs and kids are really expensive! time to find out whether i really wanted to spend my money on those.) told people i like at work that it’s coming, and that i dont want to talk about it. and mostly just... carrying on with life, really. until it happens.

it’s so weird how easy it is to carry on most of the time.i know my mum’s partner is not doing nearly so well - he has to cope with an empty house and he’s retired. i’ve had periods - including right now - where i wake up every morning and check my phone to see whehter someone called me or texted me to tell me it’s over. but most of the day i’m actually really fine. i even had an ok day today. and i don’t know whether i want that to be the case, or whether i shouldn’t let myself do that. i dont know what i should prepare for in terms of where i’ll be - will i want lots of stuff to distract me (this is my guess) and work is very good for that, or i will want to clear time and space because i can’t operate and dont want people to offer me comfort. (FYI - this post isn’t written to make people say anything to me, i definitely dont want to talk about it, so please don’t feel you either have to comment or check in on me - i don’t really want you to. it’s enough to have written it, in my own time, in my own space.)

i think i wanted to write this post in a way because i thought i probably wouldnt want to write it after my mum died - because i probably wouldn’t want to say anything about it at all, for a few years.

my mum keeps telling me about the show ‘jane the virgin’ - which she’s half way through. shhe asked me to give it a try, so i did (she often tells me about shows on radio 4, which i rarely listen to. i thouht i had more time.) i’ve watched an episode (because she has cancer, i should listen to her recommendations)(but i dont want her to know that’s why i did it) and i do quite like - it’s light and frothy and well cut together (although about kids and artificial insemination, of course). i guess in a worse case scenario where i’m too sad to work or write, i will probably watch a lot of this show - which is incredibly not sad - and feel sad about how my mum never finished it.

BUT ALSO SHE MIGHT BE OK. for a while.

i dont know how i feel, blargh. anyway. this was a long post. i think i wrote it mostly for me. feelings are weird. covid really sucks and so does cancer.

going to order some chicken and watch inuyasha.

#my content #tw: death #tw: death of a parent #tw: death of a loved one #personal #tw: cancer

14 notes · View notes

obaby-me · 4 years

Note

Hey, uh feel free to ignore this but, could I have some headcanons on how the brothers react to an MC with really bad depression but it’s hard to spot? Like, they’re a really sweet cinnamon roll and always putting everyone before them and loves talking about anime, books, cats, music, and anything else they like. It’s hard to spot but the more time they spend with them the more the little details show, like how they never finish a meal(pt 1)

Author’s Note: No need to apologize. Really, you just handed me a bunch of starter sentences.

Lucifer

“I’m used to it,” you said with a smile.

There was nothing to smile about.

Lucifer had this whole evening planned out for the two of you. A night out at one of the finest restaurants in the Devildom, a special bottle on reserve for the two of you. He’d been prepared to take you to the skies tonight, to see the meteor shower up close tonight, and have you make wish after wish tonight.

You had been so excited for the shower. You told him of the human custom of wishing upon shooting stars over a month ago and the minute he knew the shower was coming, he made positively sure to clear his schedule for it. And yours as well.

But he’d had to break them. Diavolo had requested his presence on an emergency and he couldn’t say no. You knew that. He knew that.

And when he broke the news, while he knew you’d be understanding, he had expected at least some disappointment, maybe even tears.

He’d been prepared for that.

“The things happen all the time,” you assure him, giving him a smile. “I’ve learned to accept that. Plans are always more likely than not to be cancelled. I’ve learned not to keep such expectations.”

Lucifer felt guilt well up inside him. “My sincere apologies,” he said once again. “I did not realize I had made it such a habit to put you aside like this. I will make it up to you,” he promised.

“Oh, it’s not you,” you told him waving away his concern. “Everyone does it. It’s okay, really!” To emphasize your point, you continued, “One time, for my birthday, we were going to go to this giant indoor waterpark. But mother sort of forgot and took the family car for the day to a friend’s place. We had to cancel.”

And you laughed. You laughed and Lucifer knew that something was deeply wrong. Wrong with the people around you to treat you with such disrespect to put you aside for the most menial and selfish of reasons; and wrong with you to believe it as acceptable.

Lucifer would have to correct that. While in this particular case, because it was an absolute emergency, for the future, he made sure to keep a perfect record: every plan he made, he kept—and always perfectly on time. Nothing but Diavolo emergencies, real emergencies, could deter him. If it meant sleepless nights in preparation, or sending a brother in his stead, he would suffer it. And he made sure each brother kept their promises as well. Punishments became extremely severe should they be late when attending to you or in skipping any plans to you.

You had to know you were worth the time promised to you.

Mammon

“My church always did say I was going to hell,” you chuckled in response to Mammon when he officially, and drunkenly, proclaimed you “one of us!”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, slinging an arm around your neck and giggling drunkenly into you. “What for, troublemaker?”

“For being bi.”

Mammon gave a small snort, and waited for the rest of your list, but apparently, that was the end of your list. Or maybe he missed it. His head was spinning rather terribly. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

Mammon laughed loudly in response, his grip on your shoulders pulling you to sway with him as the two of you walked towards the House of Lamentation. “Love ain’t a reason to be sent to hell!” What a ridiculous concept. Love wasn’t a sin, in fact, it was a kind of virtue.

You gave him a smile, smaller than you should for a night like this. Did you not believe him?

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound as sober as possible despite his drunken state. He figured it’d help if maybe he stopped walking to do so. “We really don’t judge that here,” he said. “Ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”

“I know,” you said as you tried to get him moving again.

“No, ya don’t. Ya lookin’ all sad. About bein’ bi. Ya ain’t gotta be sad ‘bout that.”

“I’m not sad that I’m bi,” you clarify.

“Ya look sad,” he insisted.

You giggled slightly in return, and he just knew the words in your brain were something emasculating, like ‘cute.’

“On the contrary, I’m happy. I’m happy you don’t mind.”

Mammon laid his head against you. “Course I don’t. They shouldn’t either.”

“Well, they do.”

“Well, I don’t. And I’m here. And they’re not.”

You gave a small laugh as he blearily babbled on about how he intended to protect you from such people, from such things. You needn’t worry about a thing with him around, he assured you.

Leviathan

“I can relate.”

“To... this?” Levi asked with some surprise, eyes averting from the screen to you cuddled into his side.

You gave a small nod, unexpressive as you watched the protagonist, having lost his match against his rival, defeatedly monologue his own existential crises to the audience. Was all their efforts for nothing? What was the point of trying for more when clearly their dreams would never be realized?

Levi was quiet for a time, watching as the hero wallow in himself, waiting for the inevitable turn around, where the hero finds the answers to his question, finds his inspiration and resolve to keep them going.

But it didn’t come, not by the end of the episode.

Offended, Levi began a tirade of criticisms for regarding the episode, his worries not for the hero despite the context—but rather, for you.

For the next week he searches for anime and manga that center around the same themes, making sure the episodes and chapters that would bring the answers and conclusions necessary were available.

You had to read them.

You had to know.

Satan

“I think I was raised by a cult,” you murmured quietly.

Satan peered over his book at you, the air of silence you two had been enjoying while you read side by side broken by the most unexpected sentence.

He had many questions, but the first to make it out of his mouth was, “what?”

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly for having broken his concentration.

“A cult?” Satan continued, curious as to where this was going. “What kind of cult?”

“I was raised to think I was my dad’s property and that to go against my parents was to go against God.” You explained quietly, embarrassed to be speaking about this topic at all. But you had been the one to bring it up, albeit by accident—your mouth converting thoughts to your external voice rather than internal.

“Not an entirely novel concept for the middle ages. Have to say I’m surprised it’s managed to stick around,” Satan responded with a frown, closing his book carefully, a marker set into place to save it.

“Do you believe that to be true?” He asked.

You shook your head. He felt relief wash over him.

“But sometimes I still feel that, sort of, guilt, you know?”

Satan shifted so that he could get his arms around you, laying himself gently against you. “I imagine it would be difficult a feeling to unlearn.”

You said nothing in return, but quietly put some of your weight against him in acceptance of his affection.

“You don’t belong to anyone. You have every right to your own choices, no matter how your parents feel.” Satan murmured reminders into you. You knew these things, but to hear it felt reassuring.

It became a running theme that when asking you out for a date, Satan would ask or simply surprise you with, “something you’ve always wanted to do that you’re parents would absolutely hate.”

Asmodeus

“My dad’s always saying how fat I am,” you explained as you decline Asmo’s offering of his parfait.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Asmo asked with a tilt of his head.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat across from him and give a small noise that he thought you thought were words, but were entirely unintelligible once it hit the air.

“What was that, darling?”

“I said, I just don’t think I should have any.”

“Are you on a diet?”

“I mean, I should be.” You fidgeted in your seat, refusing to look Asmo in the eye. This was supposed to be a happy occasion: a special date he’d planned for the two of you out on the town trying all the most wonderful trendy treats the season had to offer.

“What do you mean you should be?”

“Well, my dad—“

Your dad, again? Why did his opinion matter to you so much? Especially when that opinion was just so wrong?

“Your dad has no right to say anything about your beautiful body, love!” Asmo protested. “If you want to diet, honey, we can go on one together. But don’t you dare say no to this parfait on account of your dad.”

For the rest of the day, and on into the evening, Asmo laid his compliments thick, and showered you with the attention your lovely body deserves.

Beelzebub

“I’m just not that hungry.”

“You said that at lunch too. And at breakfast.”

It wasn’t entirely unusual for you to skip a meal now and again. Sometimes, you just weren’t hungry after spending two hours snacking on gummies and popcorn in Levi’s room while marathoning TSL. Technically not a meal, but at least you had something in your stomach. Sometimes you were just too focused on a task that you’d forget the time all together.

But today you’d had nothing at all while holed away in your room. The few times he’d passed by, you laid curled on your side, scrolling through your phone.

A growl erupted in the room, and it wasn’t Beel’s. Your stomach was calling you out as a liar—outing you to the Avatar of Hunger incarnate.

“You should eat. I’ll pick something up for you.”

“I’m really not up to eating anything today.”

“Are you ill?”

“No,” you responded, turning your face away, as if ashamed to even look at him.

“You need to eat,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to.”

The question of why didn’t need to be asked. He only need to stare at you expectantly until you’d cave under his gaze.

“I don’t feel well,” you grumbled, contradicting yourself.

“Is it a cold? Satan does say you starve a cold and feed a fever.” He paused a moment. “Or was it the other way around?“ Beel asked himself, trying to recall the last time he and had his brothers had gotten sick. It had been centuries ago. (And it had been a disaster of each one getting sick after the other, passing it around.)

“It’s not that kind of sick.” You mumbled softly. “It’s not a body sick. It’s just... a...” You sunk further into the cocoon of your covers looking miserable. An unusual look for you.

“Sad sick?”

Not quite the way you’d put it, but it was apt enough for youYou didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Beel quietly joined you on your bed, wrapping his arms around your comforter wrapped form and tugging you close. He’d feed you later, he’d hug you now.

Belphegor

“My needs don’t matter.”

“They do,” came Belphie’s immediate response—cutting in a way that felt dangerous, frightening: an end to the sentence, to the thought. His eyes were stern and you shivered beneath his gaze, having both been caught off guard by how quick his response had been, and how angry it had been.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered in response, feeling guilty that you had upset him, to have ruined the lovely moment you two had been having.

Arms wrapped around you as Belphie pulled you against him. He shifted from sitting beside you, to wrapping himself around you, trapping you between his legs and his arms. “Don’t say it again. Don’t think it.”

Easier said than done, he knew that. “Belphie, it’s okay—“

“It’s not.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, an automatic response.

“You matter,” Belphie said, his head dropped into your shoulder and neck as he curled tighter around you. “You matter to me. If you need something, you should ask it. I’ll give it to you. I’d give you everything.”

There was quiet as you thought the statement over. “I just don’t want to be a bothe-“

“You’re not.” Belphie pre-emptively answered. “You could never be. Ask me. Ask anything of me. I gave myself to you, didn’t I?”

You thought yourself so little, so unimportant, but to Belphie you were so significant, so important, so beloved—and to have you not recognize that was as disrespectful to yourself as it was to him.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanon #ouch #my heart #it's gonna be okay anon #i hope these make you feel better

117 notes · View notes

forevercloudnine · 4 years

Text

new 52 riddlebat ship meme

(@heroes-etc picked me out a lot of questions and we’re still going. This set is from this ship meme.)

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Ostensibly it would be Edward, if putting together a subtext-laden citywide scavenger hunt that threatens the lives of hundreds counts as “making the first move.” But there’s a limit to how much deliberately obfuscating any expression of your feelings can be considered making any move at all. He also doesn’t seem to really know what he wants from Bruce — in “Alone,” he’s quick to say that he designed the puzzles to lead Batman to him on purpose, but doesn’t have an answer when questioned on what he wanted Batman to do other than catch him.

So even though Edward is technically the instigator here, he places the burden of actually doing something entirely on Batman. Which is difficult, because Riddler’s increased brutality in the New 52 makes him like the last possible version of the character Bruce would choose to pursue. BUT Scott Snyder made Batjokes practically text in this continuity, so obviously New 52 Bruce does not have a problem getting overly emotionally involved with supervillains who have unrealistically large body counts. In fact, the brutality may work to Edward’s advantage here; if he caused enough damage, maybe Bruce would kidnap him and keep him in the Batcave the way it was revealed he was keeping the Joker in Dark Days: The Casting #1.

What could be more romantic than being imprisoned in the batcave? Well, probably a lot of things, really. But in this case, having a lot of quality time together in which Riddler is not actively murdering anyone is probably the only way that these two could work out what they have going on between them.

Edward could also earn his way down there by figuring out Batman’s identity, which he’s clearly pretty close to in Batman Annual #4. There’s only so much mental distance between “Bruce Wayne is obsessed with the death of his parents and his drive for justice and revenge has led him to bring Batman into existence, making him responsible for everything Batman has ever done” and “Bruce Wayne IS Batman,” especially when Bruce Wayne does things like climb museum exhibits to leave through the skylight or pull off a trickshot that ruins Riddler’s whole evil plan directly in front of Edward’s face.

And if he DID figure it out, New 52 Riddler would probably be less courteous about its secrecy than Joker is. (Not that Joker is THAT polite about it, given that he keeps trying to use the information to either kill Bruce’s whole family, or... I don’t know... whatever he did with Wayne Enterprises in Joker War. Wait, is THAT why Bruce was keeping Joker in the Batcave in Rebirth?)

So just to review, I am *checks notes* arguing that Bruce would instigate a romantic relationship by kidnapping Edward and imprisoning him against his will. Yes, that sounds about right for DC’s current continuity.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

If Riddler DOESN’T know Batman’s secret identity, then he would want to have a threesome with Bruce Wayne. Batman Annual #4 suggests that he might have already been a bit obsessed with Bruce even before suspecting his involvement with Batman, given that he talks about how watching Bruce in the tabloids growing up was everyone’s “favorite tv show” and reminisces about learning a lot of information about Bruce’s life that way, including stuff that wouldn’t have made it to the news, like Bruce anonymously setting his teacher’s yard on fire as a teenager.

It’s actually almost a Batman Forever vibe, or it would be if New 52 Edward wasn’t so much less endearing. Is his childhood fascination with Bruce part of why he got a job working for Bruce’s uncle at Wayne Enterprises as an adult, or was that just a happy accident in his preparations for Zero Year? Either way, he’s clearly obsessed with Bruce now, and he’s definitely under the impression that Batman knows him well. So as long as he didn’t know they were the same person, he would probably try to arrange a ménage à trois (wouldn’t that be awkward).

If he DID know they were the same person, then unfortunately Edward would definitely try and instigate a threesome with Joker. I’m not saying it would work, I’m just saying that all of the War of Jokes and Riddles reads like Edward trying to insert himself in the middle of Batjokes and getting rejected by both of them repeatedly.

Joker wasn’t interested the first time Riddler came on to him (or the second time, literally in the same office, Edward please learn how to read a room), so he probably wouldn’t go for it if Edward tried again. But if The War and Jokes and Riddles demonstrated anything, it’s that Edward doesn’t know how to take a hint, so he’d probably try again regardless. And then blame Bruce when it doesn’t work, probably. I always thought it was dumb when Riddler hyped up the oh-so-horrible thing that Batman did to him in the War of Jokes and Riddles in Batman #19, only for it to turn out that Bruce just, like... almost stabbed him.... but didn’t. After Riddler had ALREADY betrayed him.

But it makes more sense that Edward is being such a dramatic bitch if you’re instead interpreting “I still remember what he did” as just a summary of the conga line of rejection that Riddler received over the course of that arc from both sides of Batjokes.

(TWOJAR as helpfully summarized by @heroes-etc)

11. What do they hide from one another?

I don’t think they can really hide anything from each other, actually. I mean there’s the obvious “Batman is hiding his secret identity” and “Riddler is hiding evil scheme of the week #39.” But Bruce is the “World’s Greatest Detective” as per usual, and Edward is actually not that far behind him in this continuity (even if his delusions can cause him to project and misinterpret his findings, i.e. assuming that Bruce purposefully went bankrupt so that Riddler and the other Arkhamites would have to live in Wayne Manor and be reminded of him every second of every day). Batman Annual #4 has a great example of this where Edward reveals that he knows about how Bruce tried to treat his paranoid vigilante compulsions with shock therapy when he was a teenager. No one but Alfred and the doctors know about that — and I’m just assuming that Alfred knew, it’s not something that was stated in Zero Year.

Bruce obviously solves pretty much every riddle that Edward puts in front of him, but he picks up on the stuff that Riddler is purposefully trying to obscure too. Whether he was researching Edward ahead of time (likely) or just so good at snap psychoanalysis he should have a job at Arkham (possible, Zero Year was written by Scott Snyder), his summary of Edward’s life during their first interaction as Batman and Riddler in Batman #31 is clearly too accurate for Edward’s comfort, as it ruins what had previously been excitement on Riddler’s part that Batman was still alive.

So good luck to both of them at hiding absolutely anything from each other. The best they can hope for is if WHEN the other person finds what they’ve been hiding, they misinterpret either the information or the reason why it was hidden from them in the first place. Both of them are always willing to jump to the worst case scenario (which, given who they’re dealing with, fair enough), so I’m sure the resulting miscommunication would be both extremely entertaining and highly likely to lead to city-wide destruction.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Does New 52 Riddler even have friends? He and Scarecrow claim to have respect for each other in Detective Comics ft. Scarecrow #23.3, but it’s in the context of Scarecrow lying and manipulating all the rogues in the lead up to Forever Evil, and it comes about three panels after Riddler passive aggressively mocks Jonathan’s childhood trauma at the hands of his “daddy.” (Rude, Edward. Rude and gross.)

If they are friends, then the reasons why Riddler dating Scarecrow’s arch nemesis would annoy Jonathan are pretty self-explanatory. Also Edward is clearly the kind of person who would taunt the rest of the Arkhamites with any privileges earned/information gleaned from getting closer to the Bat. When I was younger my mother would always warn me not to waste emotional energy on girls who ditch their friends to prioritize their relationship as soon as they get a new boyfriend. Well, Riddler is that girl.

Bruce’s friends and family obviously also have nearly infinite reasons to be annoyed with Bruce for dating a supervillain (shoutout to Duke Thomas, who was unfortunate enough to have Riddler’s Zero Year during the most formative time of his childhood), but Barbara Gordon would doubtlessly be more pissed than most. Riddler deciding that he’s in love with Batgirl out of the blue (despite them never having met before?) when he finds out that Batman’s marrying Catwoman was already irritating, but I can only imagine how much MORE annoying it would be in the context of Riddler later hooking up with Batman.

If Barbara ever found out about them hooking up, she would immediately have war flashbacks to Batman: Prelude to the Wedding pt. 3. She has a great memory so unfortunately she probably has perfect recall of having to spend an entire evening listening to a pre-recorded monologue of Riddler philosophizing about why he’s not bitter that Batman and Catwoman are getting married and how he’s still straight even though he’s never felt lasting attraction to a woman. And then she would rightfully go apeshit.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Thinking of how this question could possibly be answered from Bruce’s perspective made me laugh out loud, which is probably not a good sign given that I’m 4/5 of the way through writing a ship meme for him and Edward. But Riddler is just. So much in the New 52. Okay, I’m taking it seriously now. WHY DOES HE FALL MORE IN LOVE. Well, the fastest way to Bruce’s heart (other than being an attractive woman with dark hair, green eyes, and ambiguous morals) is to assist him in his crusade against crime. While that doesn’t initially seem like something Edward would do (as we see in Batgirl vs. Riddler, he seems to think the key to romance is “mixtapes”), he does go out of his way to give Bruce information about a Gotham-wide criminal conspiracy in Batman Eternal #39. He doesn’t appreciate that Batman’s current opponent is actively trying to wear him down — he wants to fight the Bat at his best, when he can think clearly. So he gives Bruce information he needs to solve the mystery.

Edward seems to also be under the impression that this would endear him to Batman, because he gives Batman a series of riddles that lead Bruce right to him so that they can talk in person. And then gets very surprised when Bruce subsequently arrests him. You’re still a criminal, Edward. This is like the first favor you’ve ever done him. Do it a dozen more times and then MAYBE you’ll start getting the free passes he’s been handing out to Harley and Ivy. But Bruce DOES save him from an avalanche after this, even though in the past Bruce has left him to die out of apathy (The War of Jokes and Riddles) or actively tried to kill him (also The War of Jokes and Riddles). So Edward IS winning him over, just very, very slowly.

Riddler pretty obviously just enjoys having someone to talk to that he feels is “on his level.” Even though he’s already arranged for Bruce Wayne’s assassination by the first time they meet in Batman #39, he obviously enjoys conversing with someone who can and will unravel his riddles and double meanings, to the point that afterwards he musingly wishes that they’d have an opportunity to talk again. Obviously they do, but it’s no thanks to Riddler. You can just NOT assassinate someone if you think they’re hot, Edward.

It’s what seemingly endears him to Batman too (at least, until Bruce ruins the mood by calling him an attention whore in front of all of Gotham). Though it’s basically always bad news for him, Edward clearly enjoys any time that Bruce or Batman exhibits his intelligence.

#riddlebat #riddler #edward nygma #batman #zero year riddler #this was hilarious because this version of edward is. so awful #like entertainingly so #also i sent this to my partner to beta read and they argued that actually being imprisoned in the batcave is peak romance #so i rescind my implications to the contrary #ship meme

54 notes · View notes

parasite-core · 3 years

Note

HONESLY??? I am most curious about Roland like tell me every lil thing about him. I wanna know about him like. Where'd the PTSD come from. How's he handling life now. Does he have a fave chill 'down time' activity.

(Art by IoanaMuresanArt on Twitter)

Roland was one of my first Pathfinder characters and he is very dear to me. As a result this got long because I got a bit overzealous, so I’m putting this under a cut.

Okay so chill time is the short answer so we’re going with that first lol. Roland is very very bad at relaxing, he is high strung and tends to keep himself busy. When his friends do manage to pull him away from his work for a bit, he likes to whittle. He’s not necessarily good at it, but he finds it soothing. He also habitually writes in his journal, he keeps very thorough notes on everything that happens (I actually have a separate blog which is his canon journal of events from our first Pathfinder game, @roland-terrasold-blog. It’s incomplete because I don’t ever finish anything but I actually got pretty far lol.)

As for the PTSD…there’s a lot of context to explain that.

The short answer is that he had a very rough childhood up through his young adulthood, all leading up to doing something terrible that ended up haunting him. On top of almost dying/literally dying depending on how you look at it, and a childhood friend coming back as a crazed vengeful undead who blamed him for her death and purposeful violently triggered him with his dead lover’s body.

The long answer:

Roland is an orphan, no idea who is parents are and no interest in finding out. He was in an orphanage in infernal Cheliax, but…the end result of aging out of an orphanage in Cheliax is being handed off to the nobility to be used as potential slaves or sacrifices to the nobles devil summons. So at a young age Roland decided he wasn’t sticking around for that, and instead risked the dangers of the streets of Westcrown. He ended up living with other street kids for a number of years, and became particularly close with two others: Ashton and Emmery. Emmery however was extremely ill, and they knew if she didn’t get medicine she’d eventually die.

Roland and Ashton decided to try to steal medicine from a storehouse of the Council of Thieves. They got caught however. They by sheer luck managed to kill the young thief who caught them, and escaped. They knew if they stuck around the thieves guild would hunt them down for what they did, and Emmery and the other kids would get caught up in it as well, so they skipped town. Eventually they left Cheliax altogether, and joined a mercenary band called the Dragon Raiders.

The Dragon Raiders took any job that paid well enough. It was for survival, it was necessary to keep themselves off the streets and fed. Like a frog being slowly boiled, it was easy to justify as things got slowly worse, more morally grey, more violent, their methods more cruel. At the same time, Roland and Ashton got into a romantic relationship that quickly became very unhealthy. Ashton was passionate, possessive, jealous. Roland knew that Ashton was getting more sadistic and cruel in their missions, but he couldn’t quite let go of the idea of the person he’d known all his life, and the relationship they’d always had.

One night the Raiders took on a mission, which Roland was told was to clear out an encampment of devil worshippers. What they found was more like a small village, of tieflings and devil blooded people sure, but the settlement did not hold the horrors he’d been told. Despite that, they did their job.

What he found was that they were just people. Afterwards, he was horrified with what he’d allowed the Raiders to make him and Ashton into, and with the acts they’d committed. He tried to convince Ashton to leave with him, but Ashton lashed out at the idea. He felt like Roland was trying to drag them down, that Roland wanted them to go back to the destitution they lived in before joining the Dragon Raiders, that he’d forgotten what life was like beforehand. They got into an ugly fight, in which Ashton almost drew his scythe on Roland, before Roland backed down.

Roland left the Dragon Raiders in the middle of the night, sneaking out when Ashton was asleep. He abandoned his blood red armor, except a single pauldron he kept as a reminder of his actions and to never become complacent and just thoughtlessly follow orders again. He travelled pointlessly for a year, taking off jobs but having no real purpose.

Then he took a job as a soldier. And in that battle he should have died. He was stabbed through the heart with a lance. In that place between life and death, he was visited by a yhohm, one of the goddess Sarenrae’s divine servants. The mythical bird told him that he had so much wasted potential, and that if he would dedicate his life to repenting for his past deeds and walk the Path of Truth and Light, then he could have a second chance at life. Roland agreed, and he awoke later in the silent abandoned battleground, a phoenix feather and a holy symbol of Sarenrae on his chest, atop his heart—which was healed besides a scar that proved it was not all just a dream.

It later turned out that this was actually not what happened. Roland was stabbed in the heart, but his heart was replaced with an artifact that has Sarenrae’s herald Sunlord Thalachos trapped within. Roland is not *technically* entirely alive, he’s a type of undead called a graveheart, which is a rare undead powered by positive energy that can absorb the memories of others via their hearts. The vision was all an illusion, created by a follower of the Runelord of Greed Karvoug, who needed Roland to become a powerful cleric to fulfill a prophecy of his own making—he’d implanted the souls of his friends and advisors from 10000 years ago into each of the party members and was going to use each of them as a sacrifice to bring Ancient Thessalon back to the present day, despite the chaos and deaths that would cause for the modern peoples. The soul Roland had was of a cleric to the Peacock Spirit, so Roland needed to become a powerful cleric to mirror him.

Emmery came back as a vengeful graveheart herself who thought Ashton and Roland abandoned her. She murdered Ashton and threw his mutilated corpse at Roland’s feet and basically triggered him so hard he went catatonic for a day. He uses a scythe now because when he discovered he was a graveheart he ended up absorbing all of Ashton’s memories after taking back his heart from Emmery, so he uses it out of memory because even though Ashton was not a good person Roland still holds affection for the memory of him. He ended up putting Emmery to rest, and later resurrected her as an actual person again so she could live a real life—because she’d only been doing the things she did because being a graveheart had made her unstable (Roland is an exception because of Sunlord Thalachos, most gravehearts go violently undead monster like she did)

So yeah that’s Roland. He’s been through a lot. But he’s also had good friends, and a lot of support, and his faith has been unshakable. By the end of the first campaign he was in a fairly good place, he was at peace with himself, he knew what he was working towards, he knew he’d done good things and would continue to do good, and he was all around working on himself.

Then Sarenrae died after the Hell Arc and that definitely set him back some, although he had work that needed to be done so there wasn’t time for him to focus on mourning and hurting, he’d been tasked with leading and growing a new following for her successor Valoria. And that pretty much takes up the rest of his very very long life.

Since he’s undead and kept alive by a celestial in his artificial heart, Roland could theoretically live forever. He doesn’t want to live forever, he wants to rest eventually. Roland ends up living for 300-800 years or so, then when Valoria’s following has come into its own enough that he feels they don’t need his guidance anymore, he’ll release Sunlord Thalachos and finally rest. After that his spirit and Thalachos’ fuse into Valoria’s herald, Arbitor Thrask, a four winged platinum skinned angel with a hole in his chest that has a soft gentle light in it when viewed by good people, a void when viewed by neutral people, and a burning blinding light when viewed by evil people.

😅 sooooo that was a lot more than you asked for, I got carried away.

#Roland Terrasold #my ocs

5 notes · View notes

lany-d-flow · 4 years

Text

Thoughts: Barret as a Father Figure

I wanted to give my perspective on this topic, as it's one of many stigma-heavy thoughts about the actions of FF7 characters. I'll try to provide examples based on anecdotal experience and the circumstances surrounding Barret and Marlene's lives.

So, is Barret overall a bad father?

So, short answer: No, I don't think so.

Long answer:

Okay, anyway, anyone who has seen or played Final Fantasy 7 is probably aware of two characters: Barret Wallace and Marlene Wallace.

We first see their dynamic early in both Final Fantasy 7 and Final Fantasy 7 Remake. We also see a bit of this written in further works of the Compilation of Final Fantasy 7 such as "On the Way To a Smile: Episode Barret and Episode Tifa".

On the surface, we see Barret's unconditional love for his daughter. So many quotes from the game reflect this:

"She's tougher than me"

"That's right, little angel, I am!"

"She's cute as a button, with the heart of an angel..."

...And many more quotes I could cite. As one more example, during the ending of Final Fantasy 7 Remake, we see a moment of Marlene taking care of reunion flowers while under Elmyra's care. After looking at them, Marlene and Barret call out to each other, foreshadowing a reunion in one of the next installments of Final Fantasy 7 Remake.

All right, so we see that these two love and think the world of each other. However, some view Barret as a poor father figure to Marlene for trusting her into someone else's care multiple times throughout the story, including but not limited to:

Having Tifa care for Marlene while AVALANCHE goes after mako reactors in Midgar; having Elmyra care for Marlene while Barret joins the crew to go after Sephiroth; and after defeating Sephiroth and Meteor, trusting Cloud and Tifa to act as parental figures to Marlene while Barret heads back to Corel to atone for his past and find a new purpose besides being a man with a weapon as his right arm.

All right, so based on these moments, one could argue that Barret is not being a good father due to how often he leaves Marlene in the care of someone else, and instead of truly settling down as her caretaker, pursues purpose(s) he thinks are more important.

However, I do not fully agree with this view, nor do I fully agree with other views that Barret's incapable of being a good father. Do I think he could be a better Father to Marlene? Perhaps, yes. Many of the roles that our heroes in Final Fantasy 7 have are not done perfectly. There are examples I could discuss now, but I'll save that for later. For now, I argue the reason Barret leaves Marlene in the hands of others is that...

Life’s answers for the greater good aren’t always as simple as they seem. To do what’s best for someone you look after--in this case, Barret’s daughter--there may come a time when someone else can fill in as a guardian if the person does not have enough emotional availability to care for an individual.

Allow me to demonstrate explain, first by starting with how long Barret has been her father figure in the first place: around 4 years. Barret adopted her to take his Dyne’s place as Marlene’s father figure. Dyne, his best friend, was lost when Shinra took their usual cover-up approach when a mako reactor incident occurred in Barret and Dyne’s hometown, Corel. Instead of owning up to their mistake, Shinra decided to destroy everything remaining in Corel, including its inhabitants. Barret tried to save Dyne, but his right arm that was holding Dyne was shot by a Shinra trooper, causing him to lose control of his forearm and leading to Dyne facing an unfortunate fall into the Corel prison. Among the inhabitants in Corel, Marlene was an infant when Barret took her in as an adopted daughter. Infact, here’s her character bio in a Final Fantasy Ultimania:

Barret’s four-year-old adopted daughter. She views Barret as her real father, having no memories of her birth father, Dyne (Barret’s old friend). Marlene is remarkably composed for a young child and even occasionally runs 7th heaven by herself. - Final Fantasy Ultimania Archive Volume 2 (Pg. 063).

So based on the context the story gives us, we can conclude Barret spent 4 years looking after Marlene while residing in Midgar. He was probably in the middle of taking on odd jobs during this time, of course, and could not see her 24/7. However, such action is necessary if he is to make a living for himself, and more importantly Marlene. Ultimately that part is up to interpretation. What’s not open to interpretation is when Tifa became a part of AVALANCHE, she was the one looking after Marlene during Barret’s missions with his crewmates (Wedge, Biggs, Jessie). While we know Barret was not always around to watch Marlene, we can conclude that he knew who to entrust his daughter’s safety towards, as someone like Tifa has many motherly qualities, and above many things, wants people to live, especially people she cherishes (And of course she eventually becomes Marlene’s mother figure along with Cloud acting as the father figure when Barret heads to Corel). Eventually, when the team decides to go after Aerith at Shinra HQ, Barret entrusts Marlene to someone else once again. This time. it’s Aerith’s step-mother Elmyra, who will continue to watch over Marlene until the end of our heroes’ journey. Perhaps we’ll get a moment of reunion near the end of Final Fantasy 7 Remake when the team returns to the people they are fighting for, but for the next month Marlene is without her father.

All right, we know the endgame of Final Fantasy 7. The team survives the Lifestream-Holy-Meteor clash and they are alive, but now they must find a purpose in their new lives. While Barret stays with Cloud, Tifa, and Marlene at edge for some number of months, helping to build a new Seventh Heaven bar and home for Cloud and Tifa, he eventually decides to embark to Corel and leave Marlene under the care of Cloud and Tifa.

Wow, what a way to not look after your child that you dote on so much, right? For being her adopted father, Barret sure does leave Marlene in the hands of someone else pretty often. For some people, this can lead to the conclusion that Barret is not a good father figure to Marlene and needs to learn how to settle down and act as a real parent for her. While it can be said that Barret’s not an amazing father, I believe what he’s doing does have a realistic approach. He has no job, he doesn’t feel fully available to watch his daughter, and in the midst of this there are two people who are more than willing--and happy--to look after the person he cares about so much. If Marlene can receive a better quality-of-life from someone close for the time being, isn’t it best to give her that better life for now?

Well, I want to get a bit anecdotal about this. I come from a family of 7 children so I got 6 siblings: 2 older half-sisters, 1 younger full-blooded sister, 1 younger half-brother, and 2 younger half-sisters (5 sisters, 1 brother). Well over a decade ago when there was 4 of us, my biological father and mother divorced, and the aftermath was extremely detrimental to everyone. My mother was in a heavy state of depression and lost a lot of money; there was very little food to come by; us children were pretty much doing as we pleased with little consequence at the time; and my birth father was hardly there to support anyone but my younger sister and me.

So what action did my mother take for my older sisters? She sent them to another state for a year where our grandparents resided, as they were in a financially and mentally stable situation that could benefit my sisters for the time-being.

I could be here all day talking about the outcomes in minute detail, but to make sure that doesn’t happen, I’ll give the general aftermath: Eventually my mother recovered, found someone who became a doting step-father for all of us, and has unconditionally supported all of us in what we do with our lives.

The point here is that life throws us in complicated situations, and parents sometimes hit said situations that involve their child(ren). Many parents will absolutely dote over their children. Barret absolutely dotes over Marlene and is extremely concerned for her safety. But like Barret, there arise decisions in one’s life that involve changing guardianship for children. Some people have to work overseas and cannot take their children with them, so for a little while they can entrust that duty to someone else they are close to. If I’m going to draw parallels from other games, then the Persona series is a good example. I’ll be more specific: Persona 4. The protagonist is sent to Inaba where his uncle, Ryotaro Dojima, resides with his daughter. This happens because the protagonist’s parents’ jobs require that they be sent overseas. But his parents do not have to worry about their son’s livelihood because he’s sent to be supervised under someone that they trust, and someone they’re related to.

Conclusion

Nobody is perfect, and life is complicated. Sometimes there are roles in our life that we want to accomplish, but when it involves someone you care about, especially your own child, you want to make sure they have the best life possible. Maybe Barret would love to spend his time with Marlene as much as possible, but before he can really do that, he needs to get his own life together first. When that happens, then he can return to the person he loves more than anyone else in Gaia. Let’s always remember: Children are brought into this world, and it’s a cruel world, just like the real world. We want them to be as prepared as possible for the challenges life throws at them, so while they’re still young, look for the greatest good they can get, like Barret does.

#ff7 #ffvii #ffviir #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy #barret wallace #marlene Wallace #barret #life gives us interesting situations #anecdotal experience #ff7 remake #Ff7r

19 notes · View notes