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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months ago

Text

mixed messages | r. sukuna

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, unhealthy relationships, not cheating but reader flirts with gojo while tipsy for fun, undefined relationships, fingering / making out, jealousy, modern!sukuna, sukuna and yuuji r brothers 18+

✮ wc ; 2k

✮ a/n ; a snippet / extension of my modern sukuna post for @arguablyferal. i hope it gives a clear-ish idea of what he's like!!

some more like. relationship explanation in an authors note at the end.

✮ synopsis ; you've never been able to get a good read on him. would he really come to a party just to keep you from flirting with another guy ?

somehow you doubt it.

He's hitting on you.

Gojo is, you think. Though you can't be sure since it feels...a little conceited to believe that a guy like that suddenly developed a genuine interest in you. You can think of a couple reasons he would hit on you, all of them to do with getting on Sukuna's last nerve in their never-ending rivalry.

But it's weird because it doesn't really feel like he's just messing around. As in, it doesn't seem like it's just for that reason.

You know Gojo. Not as close as Shoko or Getou might but enough to comfortably call yourself a distant friend. A little more than acquaintance but less then close.

He's facetious—melodramatic, really—totally by design. By necessity, some of it is an act, but you're good enough at reading him to know what's playful and what's not.

That's why you think that Gojo is really hitting on you. He's using the fact Sukuna, your...whatever, isn't here attending with you. He was supposed to be here but he flaked last minuted on coming with you. You ended up taking Yuuji and his friends though, anyhow.

You're letting him do it. He's serious about hitting on you, and he probably knows you're not very serious about returning his feelings.

But you're entertaining it, despite yourself.

Everyone you know is looking the other way while it happens too. Gojo is leaned close, sitting next to you in a plastic chair, and you're just a little bit buzzed. Humid summer air warms your skin, makes you want to sink into the night.

You're not touching, but you're too close for not-quite-friends. Gojo edges on touchy. A soft nudge here and there, the kind of proximity you shouldn't have. Gojo is a breath away, sober because he doesn't like alcohol.

And he's super friendly, which is nice.

A beat of silence settles between you as the night rolls in a little heavier.

Gojo says you what you assume he's been thinking about all night, without any real introduction.

"You should break up with him," He says, just over a can of soda with a kind of sincerity that makes you restless. You feel your nerves flip.

Your mouth moves before your mind has a chance to fill in the answer. You laugh. "I know."

"You're really too good for him, tsk," Gojo laments, clicking his teeth. Playful again, using just enough drawback so that you don't suffocate in the honesty. You shouldn't entertain this but the attention is nice. "And gosh, you're so much more fun without that dark cloud hanging around you, y'know"

You giggle unconsciously at the thought of Sukuna as a dark cloud. Big and broad with a deep voice—it's an astute comparison. Shaking your head, you give him a playful glance. "Am I really more fun? I feel like I'm not as good a conversationalist as a certain someone,"

Gojo smiles at you proudly. "I'm having fun at least."

You close your eyes and take another, much longer drink. "Yeah, me too."

"If you know you can do better, why bother with him? I figure that bastard might be holding you hostage but," He's serious again, brows raised. "You've got more options, you know?"

You shrug, absently. You don't know the answer yourself. It's one thing that Sukuna never quite lets you leave but it's another thing you come back to him every time. You settle on your reply with closed eyes then laugh a little too loud. Gojo doesn't startle.

"Who knows? But you know, thank you anyway. It's good to have options. Maybe it'll knock some sense into me,"

Friendly again. He's a nice guy you think.

"If it doesn't, make sure to give me a call. I'm pretty great too, y'know."

You give him a lighthearted smile.

It's hard to hear much over the loud thump of music. You're not very in touch with your surroundings and the pleasant air around you all but swallows you.

It takes you a minute. Longer than you care to admit, to realize that someone is approaching you. Even longer to realize who.

Sukuna is looming over you and Gojo when you finally look up.

"Having fun?"

You blink, pulling away to make sure you're hearing correctly. Sinking back into your chair, your eyes flicker up to whats casting shadow overhead. His voice almost bellows, deep and coarse but not loud.

"I thought you weren't coming," Is all you can think to say. Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Yeah. I thought so too,"

He doesn't ask you to get up as much as he tugs you towards him. He's careful not to pull too hard but you come up still on a stumble, drink still in hand, and face in his chest. Your heart thumps, embarrassed by the sudden warmth. His hand sits on your lower back and suddenly there's a conversation happening overhead.

"Quit sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," He spits. He's talking to Gojo you realize.

"Be careful there, nii-san. You're gonna make it seem like you care."

Sukuna tenses under you before he relaxes again - rolling his eyes. He's not happy about it but you can hear that he's trying not to let it show.

"Stay out of it." Sukuna demands. Gojo whistles.

"Sure, sure. You two have fun there."

Sukuna turns you around like that, your face still in his chest as he drags you away. You hear Gojo laugh faintly as you walk further away from the crowd.

You don't really get any explanation from Sukuna as he packs you and himself in the backseat of his car.

He's quiet the entire walk there, and the air is so heavy your lungs can't find a breath around it. He doesn't say anything to you even as he opens the back door. He tells you to get in but doesn't show any emotion you discern.

Instead you end up laying in the backseat with Sukuna over you - cramped as his tongue slips all the way into your mouth and his hands grab your waist. All too sudden, without any ceremony at all.

You kiss back because he's being so suffocating and it's all you can think to do to appease him. As soon as he lets you breathe, you put a hand on his chest and push him away.

You make eye contact but he still hasn't said a word. "Are you mad?"

He sneers. "You tell me,"

He ducks down again to kiss you and you let him this time, doing your best to gauge what exactly he's thinking. You know he's upset, rather - but it's weird. Something is different about it.

His mouth is hot as he hands slide underneath your shirt further- his knees keeping your legs apart as his thigh presses against your clothed sex. You shiver, moaning into his mouth and Sukuna swallows the noise. Gasping, you pull back again.

"All you do is piss me off you brat," He tugs your lip back between his incisors as he speaks, voice bordering on a snarl. "You should know better than to cozy up to that idiot."

You squirm. "I wasn't cozying—"

"You think I'm fucking stupid? Think I don't got eyes to see with?" And then, like he's predicting your next question. "Yuuji texted me."

"And you came?" You stop, keeping him from going any further. "You came 'cause Yuu-chan sent you a picture of me and Gojo-kun....?"

He ignores your question. "Take your pants off,"

You make a face at him but oblige, hands unbuttoning your jeans as Sukuna practically tugs you out of them and your panties in one go. He sits back up on his legs and maneuvers carefully to keep his hands between your thighs. His middle finger runs through your slit, palm putting pressure on your clit.

He's rushing more than normal, mouth crushing yours again in a kiss so heavy it makes you gasp. You feel like you're imagining it but each time you pull back - his teeth sink into your lips until they're throbbing from how hard he's bitten them up.

He's possessive. Always has been. He's territorial over you in one way or another over everything, but it's usually only when you threaten to leave. There's a merit to what Gojo said about keeping you held down. But even in that, there's never any emotion stronger than annoyance to follow your little tantrums. You wouldn't call what you feel now desperation by any stretch.

But it's something more then simple possession and it makes you ache.

"I wasn't gonna do anything with him." You say half-way between a breath. You see his jaw tick with irritation at the mere thought. "It was just for fun—"

He quiets you with his fingers. With his hands, rough - spitting hard on your clit from where above making it splatter against your thighs. His fingers fingers the thick layer of spit and drag them down against your throbbing clit to make it wetter. He touches you hard and fast, places kisses against your jaw and collar before sinking his teeth into the clothed shape of your tits.

His fingers find your pussy not long after. Thick, scarred, intrusive - he slips them in one at a time. As much as he knows you can take until he touches that spot inside of you that leaves your whole body tingling. Knuckle deep, he presses his palms up against your clit to make sure you have the right friction. You moan his name loud, eyes rolling up into your head,

The windows are starting to fog.

"Sukuna,"

He grabs hold of your face with free hand, bordering on a snarl. It's mean you think, but more then that there's a genuine frustration to it that makes you shiver almost shamefully.

"You're mine." He sneers. You feel your cunt twitch unhelpfully at but Sukuna doesn't budge. Doesn't even go to make fun of you He just keeps growling, leaning in to kiss you - forcing his tongue into your mouth and pulling away again. "Get close with that bastard and I'll kill him."

Your stomach flutters in arousal at the aggression in it. The unreasonable, unhelpful, trained part of your brain nearly screams. He wants you, he wants you, he wants. It makes you wanna—

"G-gonna—gonna cum, fuck, Sukuna."

He kisses you again, murmuring against your lips. "Cum,"

Your thighs clamp around Sukuna's wrists as he continues to finger you, grinding yourself the edge of his palm as you ride out your high. Your voice pitches into a high whine, spine arching. It's rushed but intense, scratching the itch but not enough to tamp down the heat completely. You squirt around his fingers in a full blown gasp and find you can barely get your head above water.

You cum hard, convulsing. He doesn't move his hand until you grab him by the wrist and shake your head. Surprisingly, he listens easily and pulls away.

You pause and stare at him after you've caught your breath.

"What's wrong with you today?"

"Stay the fuck away from that guy."

You roll your eyes. "He's right. It's starting to sound like you love me or something. I wasn't gonna sleep with him anyway so chill out."

He scoffs. "Don't even fucking dream of it. I'd kill you both."

You take a second to look at him. You can't read him to save your life. But he's looking back at you, into you maybe, in a way that makes you wonder if there's something about him you're missing. You wrap your arms around his neck just to see if he'll tell you to stop clinging.

He doesn't though.

"Did you really come all the way here 'cause of what Yuu-chan sent you?"

He glares at you. "Are you deaf? Didn't I say that?"

"But then it sounds like you were jealous."

He rolls his eyes. "You're stupid."

"....You were jealous? Really?"

"Shut up already," He says. And maybe it's the alcohol but you swear his face goes warm. "And seriously stay away from that idiot. If I see some shit like that again I'm locking you in the house and chaining you to my bed."

"Weird proposal but okay."

"Dumbass."

"You love me,"

He rolls his eyes and goes to kiss you. Doesn't deny it, you notice. You pretend not to be giddy.

"Whatever."

✮ extended authors note ; hi!! i hope sukunas personality made sense here.

my point with sukuna in modern is that i think it takes away a lot of his unsavory aspects but the deep sense of possession and ownership sort of stays. this is a modern au so he's different from canon in many ways.

he has a hard time committing but he also does not do things he doesnt want to so him spending time with you and wanting your loyalty are both genuine desires. he understands why you're entertaining gojo's flirting and rationally knows it's unfair to want loyalty from you.

but he's into you so he gets. fucking pissed anyway. skjsjd. anyways i hope u liked it and i hope it made sense!! i just wanted to add this incase!!!

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #a.fc

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rebelliousneferut · 7 months ago

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long-distance misunderstandings | jude bellingham x verstappen!reader

summary; a compromising photo that poses a threat to your relationship with jude

genre; angst, fluff

face claim; annie schröter

note; english is not my first language.

as soon as i saw the photo i knew i had to write something about it

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

wagsgossips

liked by y/nverstappen, yourbestfriend, footballwags and others

wagsgossips the 21 y/o real madrid star was seen last night in california in the company of his england teammate trent alexander arnold. but it was not that that caught our attention, but his closeness with a girl whose identity we still do not know.

jude bellingham has been in a romantic relationship with y/n verstappen, the younger sister of the triple world champion in formula 1.

are there problems in paradise? follow me so you don't miss any news

view comments

y/njudefans you are creating drama where there is none. it is a simple photo and we don't know the context behind it.

username he is a footballer, that already makes him a cheater

username i agree

vertappenssource was max's warning not clear enough?

username i saw it coming, she deserves better

username poor y/n:( i always thought she looked more in love than him

username for god's sake, stop assuming things and creating meaningless gossip

sunshine streamed through the window of our shared madrid apartment, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. except me. my phone, usually buzzing with life, lay silent on the coffee table. the cheerful chirping of birds outside mocked the turmoil brewing within me. a single picture, a single stolen moment, had shattered my world.

jude was in california for a commercial shoot. missing him terribly, i was holding down the fort back in madrid. social media, my usual source of joy, had become a minefield. a gossip page had exploded with a photo: jude, seemingly handsy with a random girl at a party. the caption screamed betrayal. my phone had become a vessel of concern, overflowing with messages from worried friends and fans.

"he wouldn't do that," i whispered, denial laced with a sliver of doubt. i knew Jude. i knew his loyalty, his unwavering love and i knew how harmful the networks could be. yet, the photo gnawed at me, a seed of suspicion taking root.

i decided to take my phone, just because i knew how worried my brother would be until now and i had to talk to him. and almost as if he read my mind, a video call from him came in

"hello liefje," he muttered, almost as if he was expecting me to explode at any moment. "i know how things may look right now, talk to jude before you do anything rash, you know how the media is."

"I know, it just took me by surprise. and I'm not going to lie, it hurt me a little but i know there is an explanation behind it." i told him, even though it wasn't a compromising photo, seeing him so close to another woman had made me think.

"in any case, let me know and i'll go beat him up." max answered me, pretending to hit his fists which made me genuinely laugh.

after talking to max for a while i felt calmer, but i still knew that i had to talk to jude, who i had not responded to for hours because i knew that my feelings were going to betray me.

days bled into one another. calls from jude went unanswered, my voicemails a silent plea for explanation. the silence stretched, a suffocating weight on my chest. i retreated into myself, a fortress of hurt and confusion.

then, the door creaked open, shattering the suffocating silence. jude, his face etched with worry, rushed in, his arms outstretched for me. i flinched, the photo flashing in my mind.

"where have you been?" he sighed, relief washing over his features. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

his voice, laced with concern, chipped away at the walls i'd built. tears welled up in my eyes, a torrent threatening to burst. i thrust my phone at him, the photo accusingly displayed on the screen.

jude's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the picture. understanding dawned, followed by a wave of frustration.

"baby, i know what this looks like, but she was there for a photo. the media just took everything out of context, i would never be able to lie to you, you know." shame colored my cheeks.

"i should have called you," he admitted, his voice laced with regret.

i reached out, taking his hand in mines. "i should have trusted you," i whispered, the words heavy with unspoken hurt.

the silence that followed wasn't suffocating anymore. it was filled with the promise of a new beginning. we spent the night talking, clearing the air, the misunderstanding dissolving in the warmth of shared apologies and renewed trust.

the next morning, i woke up to the gentle sunlight and the feeling of jude's arm wrapped around me. he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

"maybe next time, we travel together," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

i smiled, a genuine one this time. "no more long-distance misunderstandings," i agreed, snuggling closer.

the internet storm eventually subsided, replaced by messages of support and well-wishes. our love story, a little richer for having weathered a storm, continued, a testament to the power of communication and trust.

judebellingham uploaded to their story;

[caption; my one and only]

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utilitycaster · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, would just like to say thank you for writing up so much meta on campaign 3, it is keeping me sane seeing similar thoughts to what I’ve had written down coherently.

The last couple asks you’ve answered have got me thinking about how campaign 3 ended up like this (indecisive characters, weird nonsensical themes, only setpieces and maybe a ship or two being memorable) and I remember hearing that c3 was described by Matt as ”Pulpy” and I keep coming back to that and thinking that there was never even meant to be a big decision. From what I’ve read of old pulp fiction dnd novels it's pretty much “here’s the big bad go defeat/seal/slap them on the wrist, have fun on the way there with several cool setpieces and romance!” and I wonder if there was even meant to be a god debate at all or if it was just picked up in the middle of the story by the cast. It could explain why the characters wouldn't fit the story if this wasn’t meant to be the story.

Cause a character who goes with the flow is fine in those books and a character who only looks into what is thrust upon them works, but it feels like somewhere it tried to be more and just fell apart.

Because even now the story does feel pulpy but just held down by a narrative it isn’t handling well. 119 was a great episode and having the Raven Queen show up in the middle to give boons is an incredibly cool beat that would be memorable as hell but for it to end up as another god debate just sucks. But the rest of the campaign sort of does that with cool beats that end up dragged down in one way or another so its not unique I guess

I know you talked about the “pulpy”ness of c3 a while ago and was wondering if you had more thoughts now that we’re in the endgame for the campaign

I do - this is all rather speculative but in some discussions with other people one possible explanation that's come up is that Matt genuinely didn't expect the characters to be so hesitant to save the gods or stop Ludinus or sympathize with the the Vanguard, and has kind of pivoted to make a campaign that accomodates those doubts...but in doing so sort of fucked his end premise of "we must deal with Predathos". Which, you know, makes a lot of sense! What if Hearthdell was intended as a glimpse into why people might join something like the Vanguard to introduce an element of complexity to a party that (quite reasonably I might add) had said "these people are a fucking scourge on Exandria" but instead served to fan the flames of "well the gods didn't give me things when I asked so yeah we should let them be eaten"? What if the fetch quests to the Shattered Teeth or the scouting mission were like the quest for vestiges - something that the party desperately wished to do to achieve a deeply felt goal - and not something they had to be nudged along to do every step of the way? What if the party went into the final confrontation with any consensus or intention? Because then yeah a pulpier "you're taking on the Big Bad Ultimate Threat...but your MOTHER is on THEIR side" a la vintage superhero comics plays out much more coherently. I cannot stress enough that the cultural touchstone Matt brings up about the campaign is the 2012 Avengers film. Regardless of some posts I've seen (which tend to assume anything the cast has ever read/watched/played is an influence, which is. incorrect) that is your starting point.

The thing about all the "take a third option" and "status quo" talk surrounding this campaign is...this post is actually a good description of how it plays out in real life. Like yeah there's a lot of political constructs within the world that are stupid and unjust! However it is unproductive, naive, and idiotic to act as though just because you don't like them they aren't part of a complex system that needs thoughtful dismantling (at least, if you place any value on human life) or worse, that they simply don't exist because they shouldn't. Sometimes you genuinely do have two choices and neither is ideal and if you do not choose between them because you're holding out for a better option the choice is made for you, and often, it's the worse one. Sometimes there is in fact a problem caused by something stupid that you cannot undo in time to solve said problem, and it is selfish and childish to say "well I think this shouldn't be a problem" and leave it at that. You will fail in your endeavors if you do this. People will see that's your approach and stop listening to anything you say.

Bells Hells feel like that to me and it's not even entirely their fault. I think because Matt had such a clear endgame in mind in the sense of "face off against Predathos" and the party was so ill-suited, and the early pacing was genuinely already bad, he's sort of tried to pivot away by following every dumb idea Bells Hells have to perhaps funnel them towards that endgame. And this is a problem too, because it means the plot doesn't push back on them and they do not grow as people, which means that a lot of us are getting tired with their shit. It's telling that most of Bells Hells' loudest defenders are the "well, if you're traumatized, you're excused from all responsibility for your actions ever :)" types within the fandom because like, part of why people are sick of Laudna's shit (for example) is that it's like ok I agree you shouldn't have an evil wizard in your head but you do, so like, what are you doing about it. And because she hadn't done anything about it and because they had to get to Predathos we had our Deus Essek Machina situation, which to be clear, not mad about, but it also means Laudna never really learned or grew from this. And to be clear she's not alone; part of the frustration around Ashton is it seemed like they DID have a revelation around shardgate and then immediately discarded it.

There's many more factors I'm sure but just to sum up:

Matt has a very clear overarching plot in mind [and, also, probably was creating a campaign for characters who see point 3 had more realized worldviews and goals and investment in their communities]

Matt does not give the cast much guidance in creating characters for that plot; "pulpy" is really tonal and not even genre

Cast, having played characters specifically designed for the "complex and morally gray and must be from the continent the campaign is set on" campaign last, turn to wacky and go-with-the-flow types

Overarching plot kicks in; characters do not behave as expected

Matt tries to embrace/encourage this by getting the party to follow what they want to do

Go-with-flow/take no responsibility party doesn't know what they want to do

endless loop of a DM trying to adjust the direction of flow to a directionless party instead of imposing a direction/Cast trying to take direction cues from a DM who keeps throwing more options at them in the hopes one will appeal to them which turns into a "what do you want to do" "I don't know what do you want to do" situation.

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers

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narcissistshandler · 1 year ago

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Can you write a yandere Sae x male reader smut where reader is flirty with others and makes Sae jealous and bratty? So then reader fucks the brattiness out of him.

𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x sae itoshi

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 light yandere!sae, light violent thoughts (not between sae and the reader), brat!sae, amab!reader, dom!reader, sae calls the reader sir, public, fingering (sae receiving), spanking (sae receiving), some swearing and insults, jealous!reader&sae, voyuer, non-consensual voyeurism

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 nothing to say, just that this was supposed to be much, much shorter (I'll edit this later, so ignore any errors for now)

“'This is so high I can't reach it, can you help me?'” Sae's voice loaded with poisonous sarcasm filled the distance purposely placed between you two. His beautiful green eyes were darkened with a shadow that could alert anyone but you and his arms were crossed in front of his chest, confronting you, mocking you... demanding an explanation.

You held back a sigh as you reached out with one hand to grab Sae's arm and finally close the distance between you. Sae stepped back, avoiding the touch.

“She needed help and I helped, no big deal,” you explained for what felt like the twentieth time since it happened. Maybe it was.

“She was flirting with you,” Sae pressed, his anger an icy, sharp thing. “And you flirted back,” it was an accusation that if was intended to anger you, so it succeeded.

Your temple throbbed with the onset of a headache and you brought your hand back to press against the spot, genuinely trying to understand what part of your interaction with the unknown woman had been seen as 'flirting' by your boyfriend.

The poor woman, who looked barely younger than you, who was kind, gave you a toothy smile and who seemed to follow you down the supermarket aisles for a while before she worked up the courage to ask you for help, wasn't flirting with you by God. And you promptly helped her and then let her engage you in a suspiciously long conversation about how the woman was single and preparing a party to celebrate her new status, believing it would be too rude to cut her off.

Until the figure of Sae, who was completely ignored by the woman, despite standing right next to you, began to analyze the woman from top to bottom, in that way as if pondering how she would react if he put his hands around her neck or broke her fingers - fingers that she continued to touch your arm with - or how easy it would be to find out her address and then... That's when his eyes darkened and you finally ended that conversation.

It wasn't flirting, you thought. You were just being nice, trying to get to know the new neighborhood.

“Don't be childish, Sae,” you said, knowing it was the last thing that would make him calm down.

“Childish?” Sae repeated, his voice rising in tone, seeming not to remember that you two were standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, or maybe he just didn't care. He wanted to embarrass you, you realized. “You shouldn't have even paid attention when she spoke to you!”

“That's not how the real world works.”

You continued, elbow resting against the shopping cart:

“I moved to the furthest house from the city that we found, don't think that just because I agreed now I'm also going to stop making friends or chatting around. You act like a spoiled child when he receives a new gift, just before breaking it.”

Sae's face turned to stone.

“I'd rather break you than let someone else have you,” he said, as if it were the most normal and passionate thing to admit.

This conversation wouldn't go anywhere, you knew, so instead of standing there and arguing with Sae, you sighed deeply and started pushing the cart. Even without turning back, you knew that Sae was following you, still keeping that pathetic distance between you. Sae's feelings towards you weren't normal, even though most of the time your relationship was as normal as any other. But you saw his darkness, you discovered that all the accidental encounters you had with him and all the familiarities between your and his tastes and hobbies had been faked and yet, you chose to stay.

“You can't just end the conversation at will,” Sae said, without even coming into your line of sight, still stuck on the previous topic. He was angry, so you should be angry too, that's how his reasoning worked. “You know I hate it when you turn your back on me.”

That's it. You snapped.

The cart slid on its wheels a few inches as you let go in favor of turning to face Sae. There, in his eyes, was defiance. And when your hand grabbed the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin beneath the curls of his hair, you saw something else stir there, fear.

“Shut your mouth up,” it was an order.

“What else would you do if I wasn't there? You already let her touch you and rub against you, what was the next step? Fuck her right there in the middle of the market while I was at home or participating in a match?” He stirred faced with the sudden order. Sae was like a wild animal, trying to shift your grip while making the accusation, testing your dominance, testing how far he could go, how hard he could bite you. “You're no better than a whore who can't keep the dick in the pants-”

The anger was heavy and immediate, falling like a stone into your stomach.

“Shut. Up.”

That shut Sae up, but you knew it wasn't enough, that in a few minutes, hours or even a few days later he would bring up the subject again. He needed to be put in his place.

With a firm hand grabbing the back of his head, your other hand fell to Sae's belt, but then, seeing the look of panic that filled his face, a thought crossed your mind and you pulled your hand away. Sae, however, didn't have time to relax before the order came:

“Unbutton your pants.”

“We are in public,” he said, the voice that had once been so loud and commanding now quiet. You both knew how famous Sae was and that even in this small town someone could recognize him. That would end his career.

“I gave you an order, didn't I?”

Sae's hands went down to his pants, the green eyes searching around the empty aisle as his trembling fingers released the button and lowered the zipper. Despite the fear and anxiety on his pretty face, it didn't take a command for him to fit his thumbs into the band of the pants and push them down, as well as his underwear. Obedience under the anxiety and embarrassment, the anger still there even when he asked please. Sae knew how to move his pieces, but you knew how to move him.

Standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, with his lower body naked, his softening penis hanging between his long, slender legs, Sae was embarrassed. The same embarrassment he wanted to make you feel when he started an argument with you and told you all those poisonous and sharp things.

“[n-name],” he muttered, eyes still roaming around. “Let's go home... ple-please.”

You ignored his whining, that just sounded anxious, not genuine. “Turn around. The faster you comply the faster you can put your pants on and stop someone from seeing your naked ass.”

Sae looked once more for invading looks before obeying. He pressed his hands against the shelf in front of him, his small, round ass facing you.

Your hand fell to one of his pale cheeks. The sound of the slap echoed around. Sae seemed to bite back a grunt.

“I don't need to tell you how bad you were, do I? You know that.” A second slap, in the same place where the previous one had landed. “You chose to irritate me, you chose to insinuate that I would cheat on you with the first person who appear in front of me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. A hard and fast sequence of your hand connecting with his soft ass cheek. “Do you think I'm afraid of you?” you inquired, your tone full of mockery, treating Sae exactly as he was: a spoiled brat.

No response other than grunts and bitten moans came, the hyperawareness of being in public seeming for the first time to do the magic of preventing him from trying to answer you. Sae's slender body seemed to try to run away from the hits, pulling away from your hand, but he didn't get very far between your body and the supermarket shelf. The shirt pooled around his waist, the dark color contrasting with the pink that bloomed on Sae's pale ass.

Your hand rubbed the soft flesh, feeling the skin burn beneath yours. Your fingers dug into his ass, without care or gentleness. And when you squeezed harder, you could see the place between those round, firm cheeks glisten with moisture.

Your laughter sounded like bells under the noise of footsteps, wheels and movement of the supermarket. “Is that why you're all angry and upset and talking to me like that? Because you want to be fucked?”

Sae's ears burned. “Don't treat me like a-” He was interrupted by your index finger pressing against his soft, lubricated hole, previously prepared for you before left the house that afternoon.

“Like what? A whore?” You punctuated the mocking question with your finger plunging inside him hard. “You better lower your tone if you don't want anyone to see us.”

His hole was already relaxed, opening easily to the intrusion, the walls wet and tense just from the current situation. You pulled your finger back and pressed two in, stretching them inside him. Sae made a small whimpering sound in response, his pink cock now hard between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto his own pants, like the pathetic little thing he was.

Sae was muttering something under his breath, a jumble of words and phrases, among which you could make out a 'who do you think you are', but which shortly afterwards turned into a 's-sir... please' when your fingers curled inside him and rubbed against his prostate, eliciting a twitch in his cock.

Your own cock was hard between your legs, pulsing and demanding release, but you knew this wasn't the time or the place, it was pure luck that so far no one had walked in this aisle, and that there was no security camera nearby. Deep down you wished someone would see him, and recognize the famous player now being fingered in public like a cheap whore. And that selfish desire flared up when a small, shocked sound reached your ears.

A third finger sank inside Sae as you recognized the woman Sae accused of hitting on you standing right there at the entrance to the aisle, shocked eyes darting from you to Sae, still completely oblivious to the new spectator as he struggled to be silent while your fingers fucked him the way he loved: hard and deep.

“We have company,” you warned Sae. It took a whole few seconds for him to understand your words and move his face, trying to understand what you were talking about. As soon as his eyes met the woman's, his hole suddenly became tense and tight around your fingers.

“This little pig,” he muttered under his slightly panting breath. There was no shame in any inch of him though - shoulders still high, lips pursed, body still willing under your touch -, it was something different, it was pride. A phantom feeling of being better than most people, but especially better than that unknown woman who had tried to hit on you.

The woman didn't move, feet still on the floor, eyes going from Sae to you, then back to Sae. She seemed to be finally putting the pieces together, regretting offering you her phone number right in front of your boyfriend. But there was also desire beneath it all. She looked at Sae like most people did, as if she was mesmerized by his beauty.

Sae however was jealous and possessive and all he saw there was her wishing she was in his place; have your fingers inside her. “I-I want you to make me cum, sir,” Sae asked, sweet and obedient when faced with a 'rival' and dark and petty at the same time. “So she knows she can't have you. You are mine. You can only touch me this way.”

He was a spoiled brat. But his words made your dick get even harder and you pressed your hips against his ass so he could feel your hardness, to let him know that only he made you hard and hot like that. You thrust your fingers with recovered strength and speed into and out of him, eliciting the most beautiful moans and sighs from Sae's mouth, calling him 'mine', 'good boy' and 'pretty whore' while rubbing your digits against the sweet walls, attacking his prostate.

The display of passion and eroticism could have lasted minutes or hours, until Sae's legs contracted and his hole tightened, erratic hips rocking back against your fingers and when you pressed your pinky against the wet, supple rim, Sae came. Clear liquid splashed from the pink head of his cock, hitting his pants, which had fallen to his ankles, and the supermarket floor. The wetness of the lube covering his hole as if Sae had produced lube on his own, just for you.

Sae's eyes, however, were not on the spectator when he came and neither were yours. You only had eyes for Sae, especially when you saw him feeling pleasure. And Sae only had eyes for you.

Just as the tremors of orgasm shook Sae's legs, however, and his hole began to convulse around your fingers, you leaned in to place a kiss on the side of his neck, feeling the salt of his sweat and the bitter of the perfume - your eyes went briefly to the woman standing a little distance, who faced with reality blushed and ran away, but not before you saw wetness dripping from beneath her skirt.

“I think she had a little too much fun with our show,” you said to Sae, fingers moving in and out of him again with delicious slowness. “But she can't have you.”

“Ah- she can't have you too,” Sae said back, almost daring you to say otherwise, the wobbly legs forcing him to lean on the shelf.

Maybe that was why Sae never scared you, you were starting to understand. You were a lot like him in some ways. You rubbed his ass where the impact of the slaps had already softened from red to light pink to match his cute hole.

“No. She can not.”

#x male reader #x male top reader #x top reader #x top male reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock smut #itoshi sae smut #itoshi sae x male reader #sae itoshi x male reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #tw yandere #yandere male #male yandere

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neptuneiris · 6 months ago

Text

could you pretend to be in love? (09/10)

The Consequences

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: things get complicated, you and Aemond's relationship ends and despite finding solutions, nothing can repair the damage to your ruined future.

word count: 8.3k

previous part • series masterlist

fortunately it didn't take me as long as last time and finally here it is hehe🙏😚

I really hope you like it a lot and remember that we're not far from the end, so I'm looking forward to your comments with your opinions. thank you very much for reading beautiful people!❤

You want to believe it's all a misunderstanding.

You couldn't sleep all night. Anxiety and worry consumed you like never before, waiting and checking your mail every moment hoping to see if anything would arrive, but nothing.

Your whole night was summed up in thinking about possible catastrophic scenarios, although they were not possible after all, since that is what is really going to happen because at this point there is nothing you can do because the college applications have already passed.

That's why you checked your email every moment, almost on the verge of tears, thinking about what the fuck you're going to do, how you're going to go to college and why Aemond didn't keep his end of the deal.

There was the urge to text him and even call him in all your desperation and confusion, ask him what happened, but you decided to wait until the next morning to ask him in person to get clear answers.

And that's what you're going to do now.

You don't even know if you are right but there is no other explanation when things are too clear. And you can't help but feel the pain of betrayal burning in your chest, with the anxiety consuming you and the need.

You finally arrive at the school, where without thinking of absolutely nothing, you start searching for Aemond through all the hallways, with determination and rage mixed inside you.

Your eyes frantically search through all the students as you walk quickly and make your way through them all, ignoring their stares at you as you don't care at the moment, you have a goal in mind.

And along with that goal and what you have to do now, still your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more painful and confusing than the last.

After all the moments you both spent together, both real and pretend, every laugh, every gesture, every kiss, it all seemed so real and so genuine.

But now… it all felt like a cruel illusion.

And to have to accompany it all with this, it's just unbelievable.

You finally see him in the distance, it's not hard to make out his distinctive silver hair, with his figure walking towards the doors leading to the huge backyard of the school, talking to some friends.

Anger and sadness intensify as you see him looking so calm, as if nothing is going on, made worse by the fact that he won't try to contact you either to let you know anything about the university, or even give you the news himself, anything.

You clench your fists and muster up all your courage before reaching for him, feeling completely hopeless.

“Aemond,” you call out to him, your voice tense and cutting.

He turns to you at the call of your voice, his expression changing from surprise to slight concern in an instant. His friends continue walking and he remains standing, as you walk towards him.

And you don't even give him time to speak, as you immediately raise your phone, showing him the college's Facebook ad on the screen.

“What is this?” you ask him, demanding explanations, confusion and pain reflecting in your eyes.

You feel your voice tremble, but you stand your ground, holding his gaze with a determination that belies your vulnerability.

He watches the screen and you see the worry spread further across his face, followed by a nervousness that runs through him from head to toe. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words seem caught in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he says in a barely audible whisper, leaning toward you and with sorrow in his gaze, ”I-I didn't want you to find out like this.”

The knot in your stomach tightens even tighter as the worry and anxiety intensifies, watching him without understanding.

“And what does that mean?”

He looks to all sides, noticing the number of students surrounding you who begin to watch you both curiously, whispering amongst themselves.

“Come,” he says softly as he places a firm but careful hand on your shoulder and guides you into one of the empty classrooms, away from the stares.

You don't argue with him because you don't want to draw attention to yourself either, but as soon as he closes the door behind you, you feel the pressure in your chest intensify and you immediately turn to him, the need for answers burning inside you.

“You didn't talk to your grandsire or your sister?” you ask, your voice trembling between anger and the anxiety you're trying to contain.

He looks down for a moment, swallowing hard. His silence hangs heavy in the air before he looks up at you, his eyes showing a mixture of weariness and regret.

“Yes, with my grandsire,” he states to you, "But I'm still working on it," he confesses with his tone infused with a sincerity that hurts you more than you expected.

You feel your breath catch and you watch him in shock, with your lips parted and hopelessness all over your gaze, trying to process what he just said. The hopelessness is reflected in your gaze, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration that you struggle to hold back.

“What?” you manage to say, your voice cracking in disbelief.

He takes a step toward you, his eye fixed on yours as he tries to remain calm, though you can see the tension in the way his hands move, as if he's searching the air for the right words.

“Listen,” he begins, your tone softer and almost pleading, ”It's not entirely true that the whole admissions process is over. There are still… possibilities,” he says nervous, ”And I promise you that I've already sent all your documents to my grandsire. I just need a little more time to be able to convince him, and I will, I swear.”

He tries to convince you, observing you completely honest and sincere in what he is saying, but you no longer believe in him.

His words are like a desperate attempt to calm you down, to reassure you that everything will be okay. But distrust grows inside you with a sharp pain that spreads throughout your chest.

You watch him, looking for some sign to give you hope, some spark of certainty you can cling to. But all you see is uncertainty and nervousness, insecurity, because even he doesn't know if he will get you in.

You think about the announcement, how the university has already sent out all the emails, both acceptance and rejection. Then reality hits you like a slap in the face, and suddenly you understand.

“You… you got in?” you ask in a breathy whisper, though deep down you already know the answer.

He doesn't answer you right away, as instead of words, all you get is his look, a mixture of pity and embarrassment that only confirms it.

“Yes but you'll get in Y/N too,” he quickly insists, his voice desperate to convince you, ” You don't need to worry about anything.”

How easy it is to talk when he is the one who certainly should not worry about his future.

And finally the tears find their way, unable to control them any longer. You press your lips together tightly, trying to keep your composure, but the pain and frustration are too intense.

Aemond stirs restlessly, hating to see you cry. His hands tense, wanting to reach out and be able to hug you, but he restrains himself and watches you with concern.

“Y/N—

“ You don't even know if you'll be able to get me in too,” you interrupt him in a cold and distant voice, laden with bitterness with the feeling of betrayal and disappointment in your chest, “I trusted you, that's why I didn't apply to other colleges,” you look at him hurt and annoyed, “Now what am I supposed to do? The time for applications has already passed. I can't apply anywhere else because this, your promise, should have been settled long ago.”

Your words echo in the air, and the reality of the situation settles between the two of you like a barrier. He is affected by your words and falls silent, not knowing how to respond.

Worst of all, you know that he really wanted to help you, that his intentions were sincere, that's what you really want to think in the midst of all this.

But did he really want to help you in the first place?

If that was really his intention, then you wouldn't be in this position right now, in this situation that should never have been allowed. And you also remember Floris.

The tension is palpable and you feel the lump in your throat tighten even more and you look at him with pain.

“You used me,” you say with your voice cracking and barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, his gaze full of despair.

“No, it wasn't like that,” he tries to correct with his pleading tone as he takes a step closer to you, “That was never my intention Y/N, you know that.”

You pull away from him, increasing the distance between the two of you, tears gathering more in your eyes and this time you make no effort to hold them back.

“I know because of what happened with Floris,” you say bitterly, ”And the worst thing is that I did like you.”

Your words leave him speechless for a moment, his expression marked by a mixture of regret and pain. He reaches out a hand toward you, as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you abruptly pull away.

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“There's nothing to explain,” you cut him off, unable to bear to listen to him any longer.

You feel something inside you crack and he seems to notice your change, to which he doesn't know what to do.

He tells you something else but you no longer listen. The broken promises, the destroyed trust, it all piles up on your shoulders, making you feel smaller and lonelier than you ever felt before.

The pain on his face is evident and when you finally decide to walk away, Aemond tries to stop you, tries to remedy the situation, but you don't even hear him anymore, you don't even see him, it's as if he is suddenly invisible and you leave him behind with pain and bitterness branded on your chest.

All because you realize that he, his promises, his words, were never worth it. And now you're paying the consequences of your future ruined by an absurd contract you should never have accepted in the first place.

You feel as if the world has fallen on top of you.

All the way home, you feel a mixture of intense emotions overflowing and the only way you can get them off your chest is to cry.

You are thankful that your father is still at work or else you would have had no idea how to explain your visibly pitiful state to him. Besides you don't even have the courage to really tell him what's going on.

But all is probably not lost.

Anxiety, despair and frustration wash over you as you sit in front of your laptop. But it also invades you and you cling to hope. You want, desire and yearn to find a solution, one last chance to not lose an academic year, so you open the browser.

Your fingers move quickly over the keyboard, as you search the admissions pages of other universities.

You visit one after another, hoping to find one that is still accepting applications, one that might have a deadline extension. But as you read and watch, that hope fades.

The words ‘admission perido has ended’ are repeated over and over again on every page you visit.

You try a small college in another city, then the only two available in your own city, but in all the answers are the same. Time has run out. The deadline has passed and there is no way to reverse it.

Frustrated, you hold your hands to your head, feeling the despair and anxiety growing inside you. And unable to help it, tears well up in your eyes and finally the situation crushes you.

With a loud sob escaping your lips, you collapse in your chair, feeling completely helpless, hopeless and like a fool.

You don't understand how you couldn't take precautions, have a backup plan B in case Aemond's plan failed, apply to even the city's public university, but none of that crossed your mind at all.

How are you going to explain this to your father? That you didn't apply to other colleges because you trusted a guy's word to get into Citadel in exchange for making his ex-girlfriend jealous?

Even the situation, thinking about what you were doing all that time instead of applying to other colleges makes you frustrated and angry at yourself for being such a fool.

And yet, you still hold on.

The next morning, your spirits still low, you head to the office of the school's coordinator, Mrs. Turner, with this last spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to resolve this with her help.

Mrs. Turner greets you with a friendly smile, though her face reflects some concern when she sees the expression on your face clearly tired from lack of sleep and swollen from all the crying you've done.

“Miss Y/N, what's wrong? Is everything all right?” he asks you, inviting you to sit down.

You waste no time and explain the situation to her. You decide to omit certain details, especially everything to do with Aemond and his promise. Instead, you opt to say that, due to a family problem, you missed the date for applying to colleges.

“Well, I understand that some universities do a second round of application, but you're mostly private universities in the city.”

“Only private here in the city?” you ask nervously and with a slight illusion.

“Yes,” he nods at you, “Maybe you could make an application for a scholarship.”

You bite your lip, feeling the frustration begin to take hold of you again and the illusion disappears.

You know that, while a scholarship might help you cover some of the costs, it won't be enough. You will only be offered a partial scholarship, and even then, the costs of a private university would be unaffordable for you and your father.

With the scholarship you had applied for at Citadel, you would have had most of your expenses covered, as long as you maintained a good grade point average. But you were rejected.

“No, I-I… I can't afford private college,” you admit as you look at her in desperation, ”Are you sure there's nothing you can do at the public university? Maybe send in a special request or something?”

She looks at you with some pity and disappointment.

“I'm sorry Y/N, but I'm afraid that's not the way things work,” she tells you in a soft voice, “Unfortunately, at most universities, once the admissions deadlines have closed, there's nothing we can do.”

You're not even surprised because you were definitely expecting something like this. Nor do you feel anything, just…emptiness and bitterness.

Mrs. Turner maintains her compassionate look as she continues to speak, trying to soften the impact of the situation on you.

“Y/N, I know this may seem discouraging, but I want you to know that all is not lost. Losing a year before entering college is not the end of the world,” she says in a reassuring tone, ”You can use this time to get a job, gain experience, and prepare an even stronger application for the next cycle. There's no rush, and many people find that taking a year off allows them to better focus on what they really want.”

But you know what you really want.

You want to study law, have a professional career, graduate and work at something you really like where you earn enough money to help your dad, give him a better life. That's what you want.

But you ruined it all by agreeing to a dumb contract, by believing his words and by not backing yourself.

You know her words are meant to calm you down, to offer you a positive outlook in the midst of the storm of emotions flooding through you. But, at this moment, these words offer you no comfort.

All you can think about is how your plan, your future, has crumbled in front of you.

You nod slowly, not wanting to seem rude or ungrateful for his attempt to help you. But inside, you feel misunderstood. You know Mrs. Turner only wants to help you, but the despair and fear of the future you now face keep you from seeing the bright side.

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” you say with an effort to keep your voice steady, ”I appreciate your advice.”

She gives you a warm, though still concerned, smile as you rise from your chair.

“If you need to talk more, or if there's anything I can help you with, feel free to come see me, okay?”

You nod once more, thanking her for her kindness and time before leaving the office.

Once outside, the hustle and bustle of students filling the halls of the school envelop you and you quickly make your way to your locker.

You open the door with automatic movements, barely aware of what you are doing as your thoughts invade you. With trembling hands, you put away the books and notebooks you won't need for the next few classes.

As you go through the motions, the pain and frustration begin to build. And when you least expect it, tears begin to slide down your cheeks silently.

You try to control yourself, pursing your lips and wiping your cheeks, but your emotions are too intense to be repressed. When suddenly, laughter reaches your ears.

You watch out of the corner of your eye and see Alys and her friends walking almost in front of you with mocking voices and laughter, full of undisguised contempt.

You have an idea what specifically amuses them about you, you know they must have sent you that picture of Aemond and Floris, but you also feel their laughter as a cruel mockery of your already desperate situation.

Still you can't help but feel embarrassed and angrily wipe away your tears with a sharp gesture.

Rage runs through your whole body, for everything. And your tears, though stopped for the moment, still threaten to return. You hurry to put everything away and slam the door shut to finally walk away.

You walk quickly down the hallway, wanting to get away from all the people, when as you turn down a corridor, you come face to face with Aemond, Aegon and his friends.

The impact is almost physical, but both you and they stop abruptly to avoid the blow. And as soon as you realize who you have in front of you, you freeze for an instant.

Just when your day couldn't get any worse.

Aemond, with his silver hair and imposing figure, is the first to notice you. His expression instantly changes from surprise to concern as he sees the traces of tears on your face.

And although he doesn't say anything right away, his gaze is intense, full of worry and guilt.

The tension in the air becomes palpable, because both you and he have no idea what to do, what to say or how to react. But you, feeling the pressure of the stares, feel trapped and instantly have the urge to walk away.

But first, Aemond takes a step towards you, trying to close the distance between the two of you and your eyes meet his, charged with a mixture of desperation and hope.

“Y/N,” he calls your name.

And before he can say anything else, you don't let him and quickly move away.

Desperation drives you to dodge him, also the fact that you can't stand to be in his presence, which you do but Aemond reacts immediately and follows you.

He calls your name with an urgency that makes his voice echo down the hallway, leaving his brother and his friends behind.

“Y/N, please stop, he needed to talk to you,” he urges you.

His hand reaches out to yours in an attempt to stop you but you continue walking quickly.

Maybe it's the look you both have or it's the unusual attitude you're both having around each other that starts to get people's attention. But you don't care since all you want at that precise moment is to get away from him.

“Please, Y/N.”

And then his hand takes yours, stopping you and you turn to him, your face flushed with tears and anger inside you.

“Let go of me,” you tell him in warning in a cold, cutting voice, ”I won't tell you again.”

The scene definitely draws more attention and some students begin to murmur and watch you both very intently, but the whole whirlwind of emotions makes you lose sight of the awkwardness of the situation.

You really don't want to deal with Aemond right now. In fact you don't even want to have anything to do with him anymore.

And Aemond seeing that, your attitude and coldness, the fact that you can't even stand to see him and the fact that you are being terribly honest, hurts him, really hurts him with a sharp pain in his chest, but he insists.

“Please, just for a few minutes. I need to explain—

Completely losing patience, showing the intensity of your pain and frustration, you release yourself from his grip in a sudden movement that draws more attention from the students and the situation becomes an unwanted show.

“Leave me alone,” you warn him through your teeth before turning and walking away with quick steps.

And thankfully he doesn't try to stop you again.

Everyone is looking at you and everyone is looking at Aemond as well, but you quickly find refuge away from all the stares, taking no notice.

However, you should have expected that little show to go around like plague throughout the school accompanied with the new rumor that Aemond Targaryen and his previously invisible girlfriend have broken up.

And honestly… you didn't even care.

To this point, technically he and you have ended whatever the two of you had, so you don't care to either affirm or deny it, you just don't make a big deal out of it and let people believe what they want.

Besides, how could you care when there are certainly more important things like thinking about your now ruined future?

News you have the confidence to share with Alysanne after all the drama involving you and Aemond, since you two are all anyone talks about in the entire school.

“That fucking idiot,” Alysanne mutters in disbelief, "Just when I thought what he did with Floris was so low but this… I mean, are you kidding me?" she stares at Cregan, incredulous, ”This is so much worse.”

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your forehead as you close your eyes and simply let your body try to relax. It's uncomfortable because of the hard metal beneath you as you lie on the bleachers but you still try.

“But he said he would try to fix it, didn't he?” asks Cregan in a cautious tone.

“And you believe him?” reproaches Alysanne incredulously, "I wouldn't and Y/N shouldn't either," she observes you, ”He had all this time to do something about it, even to be honest with you and tell you ahead of time that he wasn't going to succeed in helping you. Then you would have had a chance to apply to other colleges but no, he preferred to stay silent and enjoy the acting and all that it provoked in his stupid ex-girlfriends.”

And put like that… everything that happened sounds so much worse.

But you know she's right.

While the whole school is whispering about your ‘breakup’ with him, you can't help but feel that there are much more important things at stake, things that Aemond never understood or tried to understand.

And Alysanne seeing your expression and you basically not reacting because you're thinking about the future and how incredibly fucked up you must feel, lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you.

“I know it's a stupid question but are you okay?” she asks you in a warm and concerned tone.

You let out a sigh and take a moment before answering, not watching them and not taking your hand off your forehead.

“I don't know what to do,” you say in a low, emotionless tone.

Alysanne grimaces and looks at Cregan who also returns the same expression; they don't know what to do to make you feel better and relieve that huge weight you're carrying.

College is a big deal, both of them would also feel the same way if they were in your place, that's a fact. But by the same token they are not in your situation, they don't know what to do to cheer you up because, what could they possibly do to even help you? Nothing.

“I'm just thinking about how I'm going to tell my dad.”

You confess finally, withdrawing your hand from your forehead and fixing your eyes on the gray sky above you.

“I'll have to lie to him, tell him I applied but all the colleges rejected me,” you say regretfully, “Now I'm just left to look for a job and do that until I can apply next year.”

Alysanne and Cregan exchange a look.

“It's not a bad plan,” she tells you, trying to cheer you up, “In fact, a lot of people of our age don't go to college after graduation and do exactly that, get a job and apply until the next year or until they're sure of what they want to study.”

“Yeah,” Cregan agrees, "Besides, my family has several businesses in town, I could help you get a job at one of them.”

You can't help but place a small smile on your lips, seeing the willingness of both of them in wanting to support you, however, they can see the sadness all over your face and the discouragement you feel.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it,” you say genuinely, "And I know it's not a bad plan but…" you sigh, feeling the frustration and sadness swirl in your chest, ”I know my dad, and I know that, when I tell him that I wasn't accepted, he'll be supportive… but I also know that he'll be very disappointed.”

That's what weighs on you the most, far more than anything else, going over the whole Aemond thing and also over you, your dad.

He has sacrificed so much for you, working long hours at a job that doesn't give him what he truly deserves. He earns enough to support you and the house, he has always made sure you both have what you need; food on the table, clothes and basic comforts.

But he never buys anything for himself and his own dreams have always taken a back seat. All so he can give you a chance to do something else, have a better life and now…you feel like you've failed him.

Cregan and Alysanne watch you silently, their faces reflecting the gravity of your words. They know there is nothing they can say that will truly ease your pain, but you know they are both here, offering you their support.

“Well, I don't know your dad but still, he's your dad and he loves you,” Alysanne tells you in a warm tone, ”He knows you better than anyone and I'm sure all he'll want is for you to be okay.”

“And I'm sure he's seen how you've tried your best and you can't take the blame for something that was out of your hands.”

You understand what they both mean and you also ponder your dad's attitude in your mind briefly, but still, you can't help but place a small bitter smile.

“Actually it was my fault because it was my decision to trust Aemond, instead of making sure I had other options to prevent exactly this,” you say without emotion, “And I also feel that… not only it hurts me to have to tell my dad, but also to feel this disappointment,” you explain, “I really believed that I would go to Citadel and that my life was going to follow that path I had planned for a long time. But now… I feel like that dream has been taken away from me again.”

Alysanne looks at you sadly, understanding the weight of your words and she along with Cregan, no longer have any idea what to say to you. And you notice this, so you watch both of them trying to keep a genuine smile on your lips.

“You know? I really appreciate you both being here for me… I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have you guys to talk to,” you tell them sincerely, ”But I think it needed some time alone.”

Alysanne looks at you uncertainly.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind, I can skip the next class to stay with you.”

“No, no, don't worry,” you hasten to say.

“I can stay too,” Cregan adds, shrugging.

“No guys, I don't want you to miss class for me, really,” you look at them sincerely, "I'll be fine, I just…" you let out a sigh, ”I need time alone.”

They both exchange a look and Cregan is the one who stands up first, stretching his arms out before looking at you with a mixture of understanding and concern.

“Fine but if you need anything, tell us,” he tells you with a soft voice and a warm gaze.

You nod in his direction.

“Yes, thank you,” you reply as you return a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Alysanne lingers a little longer, watching you with the same intensity as always, as if she wants to make sure you really will be okay before she leaves.

“I'll keep an eye out on you, okay?”

“Okay,” you tell her, feeling that simple gesture of support fill you with a strange mixture of relief and sadness.

She nods, smiling a little before walking away along with Cregan, leaving you alone on the bleachers.

And you stand there, thinking about everything and yet nothing, where you allow yourself to let out a long, heavy sigh. You look up at the sky, allowing thoughts to flow unrestricted.

The faint sounds around you envelop you, such as the soccer team boys training on the field and the entire cheerleading squad, as well as the faint, comforting sound of the leaves moving from the big trees along with the birds singing.

And even though you don't want to feel bad, the pain, the disappointment and the uncertainty about what will come next, it all hits you again in an unavoidable way.

And it all blends together in an emotional whirlwind that leaves you exhausted.

Time seems to stand still as you stand there, lost in thought. And you barely notice when someone approaches, as the sound of approaching footsteps barely registers in your consciousness.

And because you are absorbed in your thoughts, you only come out of your trance the moment a soft voice right next to you breaks the silence in your space.

“Hi Y/N.”

You raise your head almost immediately, definitely not expecting that and suddenly you see Floris standing next to you, watching you with a mixture of insecurity and regret.

You frown and look at her confused, not bothering to hide it, truly not understanding what she's doing here, talking to you.

And receiving no response from you, she looks down uncomfortably for a moment, fiddling with her hands as if searching for the right words before speaking.

And this is the first time you see her like this. You don't spend your time watching and analyzing her either but normally she always comes across as confident and sure of her whole persona, but now… you've never seen her so nervous.

“I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now…” she admits with her voice barely a whisper, sitting down next to you on the bleacher, though she keeps an appropriate distance, ”But I really want to talk to you.”

'Talk?'

You repeat in your mind, still watching her without understanding and unable to help but feel a pang of bitterness at the memory of all that has happened.

The truth is you don't want to talk, you already feel frustrated and tired enough without now having to deal with this and especially with her.

But for some strange reason, you don't say anything, you just watch her, waiting, keeping calm, waiting for her to continue. She seems to hesitate for a moment, but then takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the horizon.

“I-I… after what happened in Dragonstone…” she begins to speak cautiously, ”Aemond decided to cut off all communication with me.”

That nonconformity and that little ache in your chest comes up as you hear her name and you too look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze.

“He told me that what happened between us was a mistake and that you never deserved that,” she continues in a soft tone, ”I don't know if that gives you any kind of comfort, but I thought you should know.”

'Comfort?'

You don't know whether to laugh or cry but it's clear that none of this brings you comfort.

And she seems to be struggling with her own emotions, as you see out of the corner of your eye how her hands clench in her lap as if she's trying to control the trembling in them.

“And I'm not telling you this to justify myself, I know what happened at that party was a mistake,” she says emphatically, ”I shouldn't have gotten involved, let alone knowing that you were his girlfriend. That was…” she pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh, ”That was a big mistake on my part. I should have walked away from him the moment I met you, given you your place and respected you, but… I didn't.”

Her words fall heavy in the air and although part of you wants to lash out at her, another part of you feels so drained that you can't even find the energy to argue. Besides it's not just her… it's also Aemond.

“I was the one who was all the time looking for his attention at that party, you know? I was the one who had the intention of kissing him all that time, “she confesses, visibly embarrassed, ”I-I… I don't know, I felt so jealous when I came back and saw him with you. I-I guess I… still had feelings for him.”

You let out a long breath and finally speak bitterly.

“If he was the one who sent you to tell me all this to justify what he did and expect me to forgive him, it's not going to work Floris,” you warn her.

She shakes her head instantly, her eyes full of urgency.

“No, no,” she tells you immediately, ”He didn't send me to tell you anything, he doesn't even talk to me and barely notices me when we're in the same place. There's nothing really between us anymore Y/N,” she insists, ”It all ended when I left.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say or what to really think, also not having the slightest idea what to do.

Even if all of this were true, everything she's telling you, you don't care anymore. All of this just comes with the part where Aemond didn't deliver what he promised you. All of this is just more accompanying pain, but what does it really matter?

“I'm really sorry about what happened,” she murmurs in your direction after you say nothing, “I know my words won't change anything and I'm not expecting you to forgive me… but I wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry.”

You remain silent, jaw clenched and gaze lowered, with the silence still heavy, dense.

Her words echo in your mind, mingling with everything else you've been carrying. But what are you supposed to feel? Relief? More pain? Or both? You don't know.

And resigned to the fact that she won't find some kind of reaction from you nor will you say anything to her, she lets out a last sigh, accepting your indifference without a problem.

“And I also wanted to tell you that…I know that Alys and her friends were the ones who sent you that picture,” she confesses to you and you feel that sharp pain in your chest again, ”And you don't have to worry about them spreading it all over school. I made sure that doesn't happen.”

The lump in your throat tightens. Though his words seek to offer you some sort of comfort, they do not soothe the wound that has already been inflicted. It doesn't change what happened, nor does it erase the humiliation you felt.

But even so, there is something in her tone, in the sincerity with which she speaks to you, that disarms you a little, if only for an instant.

Finally she stands up, feeling that there is nothing more to say. She throws you one last look, full of regret, before turning and starting to walk away.

And you don't stop her, as you have nothing to say, when suddenly, she stops after only a few steps and this catches your attention, so you look at her in confusion.

Floris, still with her back to you, seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering whether or not to say what has been on her mind. When finally, he turns to you again, his eyes searching yours with an intensity you didn't expect.

“He really loves you, you know? Aemond.”

For the first time in the entire conversation you hold her gaze.

The sincerity in her eyes strikes you, but it's hard to believe those words after everything that's happened.

“When I came back from the exchange, something changed in him towards me. I don't know, he didn't see me the same way anymore,” she explains, "At first I didn't understand why, but when I met you, I knew," she confesses.

She pauses and seems to hesitate, as if choosing her next words carefully.

“The kiss…that kiss meant nothing to him, I know,” she finally confesses. “I saw him at Dragonstone, I saw how he looked at you… completely in love with you.”

You press your lips together and stare at a specific point, remembering those moments.

“And I also saw you completely in love with him too,” she admits in a soft voice, “I saw how you looked at him, with the same intensity with which he looked at you. And honestly… the two of you looked very happy together.”

This makes you feel exposed in a way you didn't expect, stirring a little in your seat, not knowing how to react.

The images of you and Aemond at Dragonstone, the times you spent together on the yacht, the hot tub, on the beach, in the castle and at the aquarium, when everything was fine and neither of you were faking it and it looked like everything was going to be just fine, all flashes through your mind.

“I saw all that, Y/N,” Floris continues, looking down in shame. “And that's why I accepted his decision to walk away from me. Because even though I didn't want to accept it at the time, I knew that what he felt for you was real. And what you felt for him was too.”

For a moment, you stare at her, not knowing how to respond or what to do, since you didn't expect to hear this either.

And you honestly can't deny the honesty in her words and in that it's probably true what she's saying, but you also can't ignore the pain that still burns inside you.

And so you simply nod slightly, as if you are accepting her confession even though you don't know what to do with it.

Floris looks at you one last time before turning completely around and continuing on her way, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the emotions you've been trying to contain.

You feel a surge of sadness mixed with a strange calm, as if there is nothing left to give. Everything that has happened between you, Aemond and Floris is still a complicated knot to untangle.

Now the silence that follows is heavy, but somehow, it also seems liberating.

Aemond POV.

With a folder in hand containing all the documents he needs and a determination all over his mind and posture, he barely observes all the people around him as he walks quickly through the hallways of the building, heading towards a specific office.

When he reaches the corresponding hallway, he slows his pace, cautiously observing his surroundings, making sure his grandsire is not nearby.

After so long keeping him waiting in the hope that he would do him the favor despite having already told him it would not be possible, he must have known that he will never really help him after all the favors he has done for him.

And that is precisely why Aemond has resorted to such measures.

But if his grandsire sees him here, he will immediately know what he wants to do and will not hesitate to kick him out of the building. That's why he has to be quick as the guards have seen him come in and so have all the people who work here.

And it's hard to go unnoticed when you have silver hair, which implies either that you work here or that you are the son, brother or nephew of the people who run the company.

So he quickly makes his way to the office, where he doesn't even knock on the door before entering, just walks in quickly to avoid being seen.

“Aemond?”

He looks at his sister and lets out a long breath watching her wearily, to walk over and take a seat in front of her.

“I'm sorry, my grandsire can't know I'm here or he'll kick me out,” he explains.

“Why? What happened?” she asks genuinely concerned, stopping what she was doing on her computer.

“Nothing, it's just…” he pauses as she brings a hand to his hair, ruffling it in frustration, ”I need you to do me a favor, Nyra. A big one.”

This gets her full attention and she nods slowly in his direction.

“What do you need?” she says to him with all disposition, watching him intently.

Your face, your words, all the moments that happened, whether good or bad, but most of all your hurt and broken face, the disappointment and how terribly sad you must have felt.

All of that is Aemond's drive to finally make things right and the things he should have done in the first place.

But it is not only that, it is also the fact that you no longer want to have anything to do with him, that you no longer want to be in the same place with him, that you can't stand his presence and that you don't answer any of his messages or calls, wanting to stop having any kind of contact with him.

All of that lets him know exactly how you felt about Floris and also about the fact that he didn't keep his promise.

And now he is willing to do anything, absolutely anything to be able to keep what he promised you. It doesn't matter if you still don't want to have anything to do with him, all he wants is for you to go to the college of your dreams.

But Rhaenyra's face after explaining and asking him for the favor, is exactly what he expected but he will still keep trying.

“You know I can't do something like that, Aemond.”

“You just don't have to say anything to him Rhae, please.”

She shakes her head.

“That's only worse. You know how hard it was for me to get him to agree to let me work here since dad died and I still have to put up with his bad treatment—

“Oh please, we all know it's only a matter of time before you and Daemon also get to run this company in addition to Driftmark and Harrenhal,” he interrupts her seriously, “You'll take my grandsire's job and send him to run only the Oldtown company.”

Rhaenyra remains serious for a moment, pursing her lips.

“It's the right thing to do and you know it. My father left this to me, to us,” she clarifies truthfully, ”And your grandfather took advantage to take it all and leave almost nothing to me.”

He lets out a long breath, bringing a hand to his chin.

“When you've finished your degree, you'll run Oldtown and if you want, we can spread out more locations,” she tells him in a soft tone, “Helaena can also run Highgarden and Aegon and Daeron can also help us if that's what they really want. That's what father wanted and I never once intended to take that away from you, your legacy, as your grandsire told you I would.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he tells her in a soft, sincere tone, understanding what she means.

The fight over the inheritance was always in the family ever since their father became ill. He never showed them love or even that he cared even a little for them, but at least he intended to leave them a large part of his legacy.

Neither he nor his siblings fought with Rhaenyra and Daemon for it, it was only their grandsire, who from the time they were all children put hatred towards them to her.

But eventually, both he and his siblings realized that Rhaenyra had other intentions and everything grandsire said was a lie. Rhaenyra didn't want to steal their legacy, she never did.

And now… they have all developed a strange but pleasant relationship with her. He more than anything has developed a respect, even an affection, for his older sister, because she wasn't the villain they had always been led to believe.

“Our arrangement with Citadel University was made precisely from the company in Oldtown, a company he will run until you have graduated,” she continues, “And if he already refused once to help you with that and finds out that I did, this strange peace I have managed to keep will be over.”

And the worst part is that she's right.

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those words.

If his grandsire finds out that she helped him behind his back, all the progress they've made to maintain family stability will shatter, destroying any chance of avoiding another conflict. And all because of a girl only he knows.

If it were a nephew, cousin or someone closer to the family nucleus, everything would be different. Nepotism is a common currency among wealthy and powerful families, like his, but in your case, you are a complete stranger.

That is precisely the reason why his grandsire refused to offer help him.

And now, Aemond is caught between the desire to repair the damage he caused in you and the fear that his insistence will cause an even greater rift in the family.

“Then I'll do it,” he says with conviction, sure of his words and Rhae looks at him surprised and confused, “Just tell me how I can get her into college. You don't have to get involved, I'll take it all on myself. I'll say I asked you for help and you refused. If anything goes wrong, it will be my responsibility.”

Rhaenyra lets out a long, deep sigh.

“Aemond—

She begins softly, but he interrupts her before she can say more.

“She deserves this,” he says, his voice lower but laden with sincerity. “It wasn't her fault. She did a favor for me on the condition that I would do this one for her. Besides, I've done a lot of things for my grandfather and the company, especially this company, so please Rhae, I really want to do this.”

Rhaenyra watches him for a long moment, her eyes searching for something in his.

The intensity in Aemond's gaze does not waver, for he is willing to take the consequences, to stand up to even his grandsire, if it means giving you a chance to repair the damage he himself caused.

“Even if I have to give up my own place to give it to her, I don't care, I'll do it.”

Rhaenyra blinks slowly, her mind struggling between logic and the desire to help him. Aemond rarely shows regret, and seeing him so willing to sacrifice himself for someone surprises her and reaches her deeply.

And finally, after what seems like an eternity, she sighs.

“What you're asking is a huge risk,” she admits, looking at him with a mixture of seriousness and empathy.

He holds his breath, his body rigid, as she seems to debate internally and he waits for a decision. And then, she turns to her computer, beginning to type, letting out a long breath.

“But don't be silly, I want you to study at Citadel too.”

The relief Aemond feels is almost palpable. A mixture of gratitude and hope takes hold of him, and his shoulders seem to relax for the first time since he entered the office.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Truly.”

“Just let me make a phone call and I also need her docu—

She doesn't finish saying the word as he, with a quickness that reflects his urgency, drops the folder with all the necessary papers in front of her on her desk.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, looking at the folder with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Sure,” she murmurs and opens the folder, letting out a small laugh, beginning to flip through the documents, making sure everything is in order "Well, this folder is quite complete and the grades are excellent,” she says in acknowledgement, "That's good because it will help us speed up the process."

Aemond allows himself to let out a sigh of relief, watching as Rhaenyra steps in to help him with this favor. And as she begins to make calls and coordinate the necessary details, he remains attentive throughout, beginning to feel more relieved than ever.

He knows this won't exactly make you forgive him, but at the very least, he's fixing the damage he's done to you so he can give you the opportunity you deserve.

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starcurtain · 5 months ago

Note

Following Topaz's explanation that Cornerstones are made to fill the hole in the user's heart, what "hole" in Aven's heart do you think his drag queen powers are meant to fill? Especially since Topaz remarks he's the only one with such showy powers

Still trying to catch up with all the messages in the inbox; sorry to everyone for taking a million years to respond.

So cunty, and for what???

Anyway, first, when Jade talks about the Stonehearts' "voids," the alternate reading above that word is actually "ambition." And she mentions that the reason she risked reaching out to Firefly is that she views herself as similar to Firefly--Jade is someone with an unfulfilled wish.

I think there's enough here to suggest that the Stonehearts' voids are not quite what we would normally think of when hearing the word "void"--rather than being best understood as something removed or something lost, their voids seem to be "something desired." An unfulfilled goal. An unmet need. A burning ambition. A secret wish. They all have somewhere they want to get to, and they've signed on-board with Diamond's Preservation project because his power is the fastest way--maybe the only way--to get there.

The implication here, by the way, is that the Stonehearts are acting out the very act of Preservation itself with Diamond. The goal of Qlipoth is for the universe to be saved, an unshakeable resolution to stop Destruction's wanton obliteration. Thus, Preservation itself can be understood as "A desire that must be continuously protected and relentlessly pursued." To live. To endure.

In using the power of an emanator to protect and provide the Stonehearts with ways to pursue their own desires, we replicate in miniature the exact resolve and endless pursuit of perseverance that Qlipoth is acting out in the broader universe. The will of Preservation empowers the Stonehearts--and in turn, the Stonehearts swear an oath to aid in Preservation's mission. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement, and it also simultaneously imitates Jade's shop perfectly: I'll give you exactly what you want, if you give me what I need.

I should clarify that I don't actually think the cornerstones themselves fill the Stonehearts' voids. Rather, they seem to me to be a tangible symbol of the oath between Diamond and the Stonehearts--"I'll give you this power to fulfill your deepest wish, if you work for me." Jade suggests that the power of the cornerstones provides Stonehearts with the means to fill their voids (I.e., having superpowers makes it possible for you to pursue your wish), so I think their individual cornerstone abilities are best understood as "The exact power I need to achieve my particular goal."

So what does that say about Aventurine's "showy" transformation?

Pretty much all the rest of this is just going to be my personal speculation, but I'd say the most telling glimpse we get into why Aventurine's power is so "visual" comes from these lines with the future "Aventurine" in 2.1:

There's two completely contradictory desires being expressed here: Aventurine's life "is the chip he's most eager to lay down" and "always has been"--that is, he genuinely wants to die. He isn't just willing to gamble with his life, he's eager to. The future "Aventurine" also says real Aventurine wants to be "polished up" (to be controlled and molded by others) and "cuffed with red-hot chains" (to be made powerless and not responsible for making his own decisions, to be punished).

But conversely, the real Aventurine also wants to be perceived as "a smooth operator" and "the solid gold deal-maker who doesn't waste a drop of sweat." He wants to be in charge of his image. He wants to be the one who controls the narrative and defines how others think of him. He wants to be "spotlit center stage"--to command the eyes of the world. In short, we could say that Aventurine wants his death (and conversely, his life) to mean something.

From these conflicting desires, I think you can derive a few totally opposite but equally valid interpretations of why Aventurine's cornerstone power is so "visual":

A combat-oriented transformation is another means to seek death.

Jade's power is scary, but she isn't using it to literally launch herself into fights. Topaz's seems to be similar--something that might allow her to win over her opponents in some way (she was about to use it in Belobog to no-sell the Trailblazer), but she clarifies directly that it is not a "transformation." Aventurine just literally turns into a boss enemy and goes straight out on to the battlefield.

In the fight, he doesn't even use shields. (Now whether that's something he never does because the cornerstone powers don't actually come with shields while in his monster form, if he couldn't use shields because his cornerstone was broken, or if he just chose not to use shields in this fight to give Trailblazer and Co. a fighting chance, only time will tell. However, it might be worth noting that his empowered Apocalyptic Shadow form doesn't come with shields either, despite having other new mechanics.)

The point is, this form, while looking cool and seeming strong, is actually a gamble in and of itself. To go out onto the battlefield, where you might not actually be the strongest combatant, is always a risk. And I think this is the kind of risk that Aventurine manifests continually in his life. He is constantly creating opportunities for his own luck to fail. His unfulfilled desire, the "ambition" he was desperate enough to join the Stonehearts to pursue--as his original goal to save his people is completely gone, his only current goal might actually just be a chance to die. His powers may manifest as a combat-oriented transformation because that is just one more way to throw himself into the crossfire.

In fact, this is exactly what Sugilite accuses him of in Jade's myriad celestia:

You didn't need to snatch his wig this hard, Sugilite. (Also I need you all to know I originally wrote "You didn't need to come for him this hard, Sugilite," but then I realized how unfortunate that wording was, so...)

You could even argue that the fact Aventurine's transformation comes with a mask that obscures his entire face is a sign that we're supposed to see this form as dehumanizing.

The facial features are completely obscured and asymmetrical, there's no mouth, his fingers have become claws--despite his body staying mostly human-shaped, it's obviously intended to hint at something monstrous, subsuming his original identity behind a violent facade.

Kakavasha disappears entirely behind "Aventurine" when he transforms, becoming a faceless enemy at the risk of (perhaps in hopes of) entirely losing himself. Maybe every transformation lets Aventurine throw himself closer and closer to the edge of death--and perhaps, before Penacony, only death could ever have filled the "void."

But, on the complete opposite hand (because Aventurine is always both sides of the coin), we could also argue the other end of the spectrum entirely:

A combat-oriented transformation is a show of force.

This screencap brought to you by Mr. Rubhen925 of Youtube.

Aventurine's entire life has been marred by disenfranchisement, by violations of his basic human rights, freedoms, and agency. At every turn, he has been victimized by others more powerful than himself: his childhood consisted of his clan being relentlessly hounded and hunted to extinction by the Katicans, having their food constantly stolen, their meager belongings burned to the ground, and each one of his family members systematically slaughtered, often in front of his eyes.

After his childhood, he was bought and sold as chattel for pennies, branded like an animal, and forced into a fight where to he had to beat other innocent people to death just to keep himself alive, all for the entertainment of the masses. Even Jade, who promised to help him achieve his goals, treats him like a business investment more than a friend.

In Penacony, we watch everyone he talks to degrade and ostracize him. Even though Aventurine led him into doing it, Sunday tortures and re-traumatizes him live for our entertainment.

Even more that, we see Aventurine constantly struggling with the question of whether his life is really his own or whether his blessing from Gaiathra means that his entire existence has been predetermined, his fate sealed in blood and sand from the very moment of his birth, utterly inescapable.

No matter how Aventurine tries to portray himself as the ultimate winner, he's only ever the "final" victor--being the only one left standing at the end is meaningless if on the road to getting there, you were treated like fate's favorite punching bag. Winning in the end is utterly pointless if on the road to winning, you still lost it all first, from the things you loved to your personal freedom.

What does a person who has been made powerless again and again truly desire? What void do you seek to fill if life has denied you your agency over and over?

Power. Dominance. The ability to literally strike back at those who've wronged you. The strength to intimidate and force people into a corner the way you've been intimidated and forced before.

If we say that Aventurine's "void" is not a literal desire for the release of death, then it might make sense for the "void" to instead to be a frantic desire to gain control over his circumstances. To be the one finally in charge of deciding his own fate.

Particularly in light of his character story which tells us that Kakavasha's original goal for joining the Stonehearts was to save his people, the desire to take on an impressive form that screams "I'm powerful" and has the ability to physically enact vengeance on others feels directly aligned. And it remains aligned even after the reveal that the Avgins are all gone--once more fate strips Kakavasha of his power to make a difference in the world, to achieve what he truly dreams of.

The Apocalyptic Shadow version of his boss fight is called "Desperate Diceroller."

How angry he must be, deep down. How hateful the world must seem. How sad it is to feel that way.

If destiny won't let you out of the cage, your only choice is to grow claws to tear it open.

Okay, but WHY so much swag though?

Are the peacock feathers and spandex really necessary?

Listen. Everyone talks about Ratio having "gifted kid" syndrome, but I'm here to tell you that Aventurine is actually a burnt out gifted kid extraordinaire.

He's literally, canonically, explicitly the chosen one of his people.

From the moment of his birth, his mother and sister--and presumably others in his clan even--were telling him that he was their clan's most precious treasure and that he would lead them to prosperity and safety.

He carried this weight even after fleeing from the massacre, all through his childhood and teenage years, through slavery and abuse, putting his very life on the line to join the IPC in hopes of finally fulfilling the destiny his mother and sister promised he could.

He was supposed to save them. That was his meaning. That was his purpose in life.

But he was too late.

The fate he was born for, raised believing, and risked everything to achieve... is still incomplete.

So, for all that talk about suicide and power-seeking, my real answer is this: Aventurine's "void" is his unfulfilled destiny.

His whole existence has been predetermined, his life's journey laid out in prophecy and blessings from the very beginning. Yet what he thought was his fate betrayed him, and where you head after becoming an unsuccessful chosen one is a question without answer.

His thoughts constantly circle around how he is a "failure" and a "loser."

When you have no sense of purpose, when your life has no meaning, when what you are still seeking is the role you were supposed to have from the moment of your birth: the glorious destiny of being a savior, being the "happiness" of your people, being the hero...

Of course you crave the spectacle. Of course you long for the spotlight--you long to be recognized. Because Kakavasha's the chosen one. "Spotlit center stage" is where he's supposed to be--in the leading role that was stolen from him.

I think that Aventurine's cornerstone transformation is so flashy because, at the core, it represents a longing to truly be the "precious wealth" of the Avgin that his sister promised him he would be. It represents his desire to transform from a useless, "discarded" person into a larger-than-life version of himself. (Hey, fun fact, out of every official depiction of Aventurine, his boss model wears the only outfit in which his slave brand is not naturally visible.) He literally transforms into a supernatural being, capable of seizing others' fates in his hands. It represents the power he needed to save his people and himself. Its extreme flashiness screams for attention, demands to be witnessed as something beyond a helpless human.

It's almost as if Aventurine is a child writing a wish-fulfillment story where he transforms into a hyper-glamorous, all-powerful masked superhero who is capable of saving the day and winning against his enemies every time.

Unlike Jade and Topaz, Aventurine can't hide his deepest desire. It was always going to be a "transformation," because Aventurine's unanswered wish is to be someone better than himself.

His "void," his deepest unachieved ambition--it's written right there, all over his body.

Aventurine's cornerstone power is a story he's telling himself about the person he was supposed to be.

But as Acheron claims, that's life itself.

Aventurine doesn't feel like he has any control over his journey's ultimate destination.

He doesn't know where's he's headed or what the purpose of it all is. But...

Jade explicitly describes the Ten Stonehearts and Diamond's endeavor as a "journey" as well:

Because Preservation represents the continuance of life itself, and the Stonehearts with their endless "voids"--Aventurine with his soul-deep longing to become someone better than himself--represent all of us very real human beings, trying our best to find our own "cornerstones," to gain the means to finally, finally achieve our own sweet dreams.

#honkai star rail #aventurine #ten stonehearts #character analysis #honkai star rail meta #I'm too sleepy to leave real tags #so just know that I spent the whole time writing this #laughing about how Aventurine's claws are on the most inconvenient fingers #like dude is not getting any tail in his monster form with THOSE hands #also I spent the second half of this going #“Aventurine's unfulfilled destiny is his void”#“so he can probably fix it by reviving the Avgins”#this is why everyone wants to give this man a baby #Diamond said “I don't got any babies but I do have this cool rock”#Aventurine said “Will the cool rock make me sexy?”#and didn't even wait for the answer

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 11 months ago

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HC the only reason Miguel gave Hobie a watch in the first place is because he genuinely doesn't know what Punk is

Miguel most likely thinks Punk is just some really old Boomer style that Hobie is WAY too into.

Cause like let's be real, he's from 2099 - he probably can't tell a punk from a greaser from a grunge person from an emo. To Miguel

He probably looks at Hobie the way WE look at Noir.

He probably can't even understand Hobie.

Pop Quiz!! If you met someone from like 1915 RIGHT NOW would you know if they had electricity and phones and photos and radios yet? Were they still using telegraphs? Could women vote yet??

I don't know!!!!!! Couldn't tell ya!!!!!!

Now apply that to Hobie and Miguel

The thought of Hobie being able to reverse engineer his watch didn't even pass his mind cause Miguel's most likely like 'When are you from? 1978? I'm surprised you even know what a computer is. Did you all even have electricity then? Cars? Don't look at me like that - I'm a geneticist not a historian, Brown.'

All he knows is that in Hobies world cars don't fly and therefore he is Ancient and Old™️

We all see Noir as like an old geezer regardless of age but no one ever suggests that how Miguel sees Hobie vjhoohchvoh

Like Miguel completely disregarding Hobie cause he's like 'Hobie? That Boomer? Sure. His generation can't even send an email without downloading a virus. What the hell is he going to do? Put my calculations on a CD-ROM? A floppy-disc?? Lyla, be realistic.'

SO REAL. Cause let's be honest HOW ELSE IS HOBIES STORING ALL HIS DATA 😭😭 He has no SD cards!! Only these!! Floppy Disks!!!

Thousands upon thousands of these

Like what other explanation is there 😭😭 HUH??? Why else would Miguel disregard him so hard!!

Everytime Hobie talks instead of being like 'this snotnose kid-' Miguel's more like 'sure like imma take pointers on how to run a society from a fucking Boomer yeah right I saw what you all did to the economy'

Hobie probably be playing punk music and to Miguel it sounds like old show tunes coming out a vintage tin radio

Hobies music is so old it's 'classical' now 😔

Miguel has absolutely no idea what punk is and tbh???? He doesn't fucking care. Why? Cause that's some old people shit.

#Y'ALL HOBIES 'OLDER' THAN HIM #how was he supposed to know this ONE boomer is somehow A COMPUTER GENIUS #NOT HIS FAULT TBH #if your whip don't fly he thinks you're a barbarian #Hobies like the same as like a little newsieboy from 1920 is to us #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara

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portraitofalinkonfyre · 6 months ago

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I’m literally going feral over ur fierce deity fics I’ve been dehydrated for so long and these are like a tall glass of water

Could I pretty please with a cherry on top request a Fierce Deity x reader where Like theyre Just hanging out together and fierce is just really gently putting flowers in the readers hair and they’re watching the sunset together and fierce just thinks the reader is really pretty while they’re yapping about their day

THANK YOU SO MUCH IN ADVANCE IF YOU DO DECIDE TO DO THIS BUT YOU DONT HAVE TO <333

CONSIDER IT WRITTEN. Fierce Deity is literally my weakness, so I'm ecstatic more people love him!

Braided Daisies

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff and philosophical discussions that probably shouldn't be read before one's morning coffee.

Masterlist

There was a clearing a mile's walk from your house. It was small and quiet, filled to the brim with tall, swaying grass. In early spring, a myriad of flowers bloomed among the vegetation, as if sprinkled by the gods themselves. But its best feature was by far its proximity to a staggering, craggy cliff, and the accompanying view that followed for anyone lucky enough to stumble upon it.

"—And THEN I told him I don't make the rules around here, but nooo," you ranted to the Fierce Deity from your sprawled position on the grass. You had originally intended to come here alone, but it seemed you had an adventurer in your midst. That, and the fact that it was becoming increasingly hard to refute him when he looked at you with such... care? Want? You weren't quite sure, but from the looks the other boys would shoot him, you assumed it was deep. "—of course I look rich enough to be the owner... in my work uniform!"

"That is... unfortunate," mused the deity, looking almost offended. When his gaze turned menacing, you realized you probably shouldn't have shared your troubles with a literal guard dog of a god. "If you require assistance—"

"Nope, nope, nope," you waved your hands frantically. "I am not dealing with you mauling someone."

The put-off expression on his face would have made you cackle if you hadn't known his offer was very much real. "Shame."

Shame?!

"I'll stop baking if you kill someone," you leveraged, holding back the urge to laugh when his expression turned to one of abject horror, then what you could only assume was his version of a pouty face. "Don't look at me like that, I will do it."

There was silence as you held his gaze, setting your jaw in what you hoped was a stern expression. Miraculously, Fierce was the first to break eye contact, leaning back on his arms with a deep sigh. "You are brave," he said, and there was something soft in his tone that you couldn't place for the life of you. "Have you always been this way?"

It was such a him question, yet you had to stop and process why in the world the Fierce Deity wanted to know something so mundane about you, a mere mortal. It couldn't have been genuine curiosity... but there was no other explanation. "I... maybe? It depends on your definition of bravery, I guess."

"And what is yours?" He was getting closer, practically casting a shadow over you. A callused hand drew forward, capturing a strand of your hair, rubbing softly, and the notion that he was feeling your hair threw you for the greatest loop of your life.

"Bravery is..." you trailed off, averting your eyes. What was bravery? To say one had bravery meant they had a strong character... some could even say a heroic one, but it felt too simple an answer to give to such a being, especially when he gazed down at you with a warmth you hadn't felt in a long time. Not even the burning tangerine of the horizon—smattered with flashes of gold and honeysuckle— could ignite your skin in the way his eyes could. "...immediate."

Impossibly, the deity leaned closer, tone expectant. "Immediate?"

Fuck, he was practically on top of you. "I-It's not like courage, because that comes slow and is more moral based, but..." you gulped. "I guess bravery is what happens in the moment, as in the choices you make when there's no time to make them."

"I see," rumbled Fierce as he withdrew, resuming his cross-legged position next to you. As if on instinct, you raised yourself onto your elbows and huffed.

"Why do you even want to know?" you questioned, emboldened by the falling sun. "You're a god and I'm just... human. I'm sure there's a million more interesting things out there."

"You speak as though my curiosity is an insult," intoned the deity, gaze fixed on the bleeding horizon. "I can assure you, it is not."

And that was all there was to it, really. You knew the topic had died as soon as he fell silent, though it didn't mean you were giving up just yet. You reached out, picked a nearby daisy, and offered it to him. "Can you braid?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said you wanted to discover," you defended lightly, even though there was no need to. "Hair braiding is easy when you get the hang of it, but it's a lot easier to learn using someone else's hair."

A beat passed, and you thought for sure he was going to reject the idea. That is, until his hand twitched up to take the flower, examining it with keen eyes. You took it as an invitation to scoot closer—already parting your hair in preparation—until your legs brushed his own and your chests were nary two feet apart. "Okay," you relinquished the flower and put the head at the top of the braid. "You're going to want to cover it with one section like so, then keep braiding like you normally would without letting the stem fall, capiche?" You held up the half finished braid for inspection, eventually pulling it apart and offering him the flow. "Now you try!"

There was determination in the Fierce Deity's eyes as he relinquished the flower and did as instructed: laying the head at the top of the brain and incorporating it with every cross and pull. His touch was so gentle you could have mistaken it for the wind pulling your hair, and you wondered it he feared anything harder than featherlight pressure would shatter you, though that was most certainly not the case. Before you knew it, he had reached the bottom of the strands, and was merely holding it as to not fall apart. You took that as a cue to snap a hair tie on that sucker and shoot him a happy grin. "It looks great, awesome job!"

But the Fierce Deity remained silent, simply gazing at you with eyes softer than silk before rising to his feet. You tilted your head in confusion, about to ask where he was going, when he bent down, plucked another daisy from the earth, and plopped down behind you. "What are you—"

A heavy hand laid itself on your shoulder, applying gentle, firm pressure as the deity's voice rumbled in your ear. "Be still, I am only using the skills you have shown me."

And, without preamble, he sectioned your hair like a pro and began to braid while you sort of just sat there, questioning everything that had lead up to this point. He was so close that you could feel the press of his muscled abdomen against your very unmuscled back, and it was doing unspeakable things to the beating organ in your chest. A sort of choked gasp left your lips when he reached down to capture your wrist before pulling a hair tie from it, but you forced yourself into silence—he seemed to enjoy it, so who were you to deny him—?

"Have I upset you?" Came Fierce's voice, clear as day. His actions with your hair halted, and you nearly morned the loss of his body heat when he pulled away.

"I— what?" How in the world could he have upset you? There was simply no way.

"You are quiet," answered the deity, as if it made perfect sense. "I ask again: have I upset you?"

"No?" You could hardly comprehend how he came to such a conclusion, but you would do everything in your power to rectify whatever misunderstanding he was living under. "How does that have anything to do with me being upset?"

"You talk when you are happy," and he noticed?? Did he think you were upset because you weren't rambling?

"Well, yes," dear lord, he was too precious. "But I can be happy in silence, too."

"Ah," you felt a wave of relief when his hands fell on the braid again, lifting it for what you could only guess was inspection. "I had assumed you disliked quiet."

"Funny, because I thought the same."

"Then it appears we both assumed wrong," stated the deity, and you couldn't have agreed more.

The fading light was filled with laugher as you regaled him with more stories from work, throwing in a few embarrassing childhood ones when things became dry. During this, Fierce fitted two more braids into your hair, each with a different flower. You could hardly wait to look in the mirror when you arrived home, an idea that seemed less and less pleasant as your conversation dragged on.

When the sun was all but a speck in a sea of navy, you reluctantly started the trek back, noting how insignificant the darkness seemed when you had Fierce by your side, expression attentive as he listened to you talk about nothing in particular. It puzzled you how he seemed to hang off of every word, but you assumed it was merely loneliness. Had it been lighter outside, or your attention sharper, you would have noticed the crimson flush painting his cheeks a deeper red than the very horizon.

The plot got away from me a bit, but I still think it turned out great. Hope y'all enjoyed!

#fierce deity x reader #linked universe #linked universe x reader #the chain x reader #i used 100% of my brain for this #sunset #deep thoughts #romance #loz fanfic #loz

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haifoct · 2 months ago

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Xiao Zhuo, Li Lun, and Ying Lei adventures at Tianxiang Pavilion incoherent ramblings.

Anyways, I was rewatching FoF (as one does), and episode 21 — on a rewatch, when you know damn well Li Lun is possessing Bai Jiu's body — is hands down one of the funniest, pure comedy gold episodes that the series has to offer.

It's almost offensive how blatant they were about Bai Jiu being Li Lun here. Fashionista Li Lun woke up, and decided he's not going out in those EW clothes smelling of his cousins herbs. That vomit of every colour out there and a nest for hair are NOT sexy. All white for a dignified gentleman like himself.

They point out the change in his outfit, and we don't question it because Li Lun (despite people here claiming he doesn't understand humans) knows it would be a big deal for a teenage boy to visit a place like Tianxiang Pavilion. Dressing more maturely feels natural, and Li Lun gets to slay in all white yet again.

Li Lun: Must change. Li Lun: No one will notice. They will think this loser is excited, good plan.

Li Lun's face is priceless here. There are only two options: either Li Lun seeps through and is genuinely offended that this baby mountain god he remembers acts like this ("why crave attention from human? disgusting. ZHUO YICHEN LOOK AT ME"), or he understands the affections Bai Jiu holds for Xiao Zhuo-ge, acting his ass off even when no one is looking.

I like the first option as an explanation, because Li Lun DOES seep through quite often in this episode.

It looks fun, he said, like a fucking IDIOT.

"Oh shit."

"Shit. Did Zhuo Yichen notice? Shit shit shit shit."

And he continued to fuck up. Those were small details, but I genuinely couldn't stop laughing at his loser ass.

He tugged Xiao Zhuo's bells too hard, actually tugged Yichen back. His movements are harsher, stronger than Bai Jiu's. Bai Jiu tugs at Xiao Zhuo's sleeve or bells gently, and when it is in fact hard, it's usually Yichen trying to walk and Bai Jiu staying behind.

"FUCK. I tugged too hard." LI LUN, YOU DORK.

He tugged so hard Yichen's ribbon came undone. "I fix this. It will be alright it's part of my plan."

Unfortunately, ribbon does not stay put anymore.

Li Lun's honest reaction to this turn of events. No control over his face or strength whatsoever.

Ying Lei and Li Lun's moments have a very special place in my heart. They bounce off each other so nicely, and you can absolutely tell that Li Lun was having fun.

His shit eating grin. Sometimes I wonder if this is what Li Lun did when he was a baby.

Zhu Yan: Let's see human world! Li Lun: sure! Zhu Yan: Yaaaaay! Li Lun: Yaaaaaay! Zhu Yan, at the gates to the human world, turning to his bestie: Li Lun, this so exciting — Li Lun? Li Lun! Li Lun, back at Kunlun: snoozes, sunbathing.

Li Lun entered the pavilion as we know it, and saved his Ge, not forgetting to be a massive dork about it.

He once again pulled Xiao Zhuo real hard. Yichen went WOOOOOSH.

Well saved, Li Lun! Unfortunately, his precious Ge scolds him, but not without remembering to thank Li Lun for his hard work first.

I know for a fact that this was Li Lun seeping through yet again. "If it weren't for me, Zhuo Yichen!"

Yichen was utterly hilarious in that moment too. He took a moment to catch his breath, like being touched by a bunch of women was the worst nightmare he'd ever experienced. He's finally free, the worst day of his life. They're comedic duo we deserve, I will never shut up.

And I LOVE that Li Lun never forgets to hold his Ge by the...well, he does forget that he’s supposed to hold him by the bells, not Yichen’s fucking belt.

Xiao Zhuo: What the — ? Bai Jiu usually holds the bell, why is he holding the belt? *confused Zhuo Yichen noises*

Li Lun is such a DORK. They share one braincell for the three of them. One braincell dream team.

Previously, everyone ignored Ying Lei's attempts to high-five his friends, and isn’t it the cutest that Li Lun was the one to give him a high five? Although he was surely shocked to experience friendship: "*GASP* a high five from a friend?"

Well done, Li Lun! Thank you for your service, you little dork. I will never stop calling him that.

I just love the three of them together so much. It makes me happy that Li Lun got to experience what real friendship feels like, and these two were the perfect candidates to show him the light and welcome him into their home.

This episode is my comfort place now, a better world where they get to be friends and form a perfect one braincell dream team.

#fangs of fortune #li lun #zhuo yichen #ying lei #bai jiu #one braincell dream team #all my faves together they did it for me

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lord-squiggletits · 1 year ago

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I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #i'm sure the doylist reason for the writing is just that pharma was a designated villain #so since he's a villain and 'crazy' it's fine for everyone even the good guys to treat him like complete trash #i just think from a watsonian perspective taking a sympathetic approach is way more interesting and logically consistent #what i mean is like. from a meta perspective one of the best ways to show that a character is super evil and not worth saving #is when even the good guy heroes. the ones who are supposed to be kind and compassionate and wise. see him as dirt #and this is also kind of a necessity in most plots bc TF is the kind of series that just needs action villains and long-term antagonists #so not every villain is written or has a plot to be made redeemable. and pharma is one of these bc he's not important or a legacy character #so from a doylist (meta) perspective you could read the autobots' disregard of pharma as a sign of #'this guy is not meant to have your sympathy as a reader. pay no attention to him'#but from a watsonian (in universe) perspective it paints a miserable picture of pharma being utterly forsaken by the ppl he served alongsid #and like yeah i'm super autistic about pharma so of course i view him with sympathy but like #the idea of being a loyal and good person for years only to be subjected to a Torment Nexus of #being blackmailed into breaking all of the oaths you held sacred. under threat of you and all your comrades dying horrible torturous deaths #then when your comrades find out about it they focus solely on the 'harvesting organs' and not on the 'blackmail' part #and then you get literally left for dead by your comrades and best friend hating your guts #and then you get rescued by a guy who uses you as a test subject for his evil machine #this is a fucking nightmare scenario like pharma could hardly be suffering more if the author TRIED to make him suffer #and for me it's like. the evil pharma did can't be decontextualized to what drove him to that. as well as the question of like #how easily ppl can write someone off as evil and turn a blind eye to (or even find satisfaction in) their suffering bc theyre evil #and either brought it on themselves or it's just karma paying a visit #like. i feel like if pharma WERE a shitty doctor and a terrible person his whole life then the delphi situation would feel like karma #but the way it's written and the lore retroactively put in makes it feel more pharma getting thrown in a torture carousel #and THEN becoming evil. but then being treated as if he was always evil or was some sort of bad apple #bc like i'm not opposed to LOLing when a villain gets a karmic torture/death related to the wrongs they committed #but in pharma's case it feels less like karma and more like endless torture + being abandoned by ppl who should have been more loyal

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howtofightwrite · 7 months ago

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Hello! I know yall have talked about how overusing violence in a story makes it less impactful especially if it doesn’t cause lasting impacts for the characters. In my story this lack of impact slowly clues the mc in that something is Wrong with [them/reality, they’re not sure] because hey, these things *should* be having some effects, healing in this setting may be magic but it’s not *miracles*, but I’m not sure how to differentiate it from the typical outcomes of violence in fiction that the reader will simply be used to seeing, outside just the mc’s thoughts on the matter. What are some things yall would want to see acknowledged and/or explored when treating violent encounters this way intentionally? Would someone become more violent (or more willing to do awful things to others when engaged in violence) over time when it didn’t have lasting consequences? Thanks!

Okay, so there's three separate things going on, and two of these intersect normally, but we usually approach them separately.

The first is the diminishing returns on violence; the simplest explanation would be that the less violence you have in your story, the more impactful (or potent) it will be. For example, looking at a pair of films from Tarantino's career. The violence is Reservoir Dogs hits much harder than the violence in Kill Bill. For example, if you've seen the former and I mention, “the ear scene,” you know exactly what I'm talking about. Yes, it's a somewhat gruesome scene, but it sticks with you, even decades later, potentially even to the point that you can't listen to Stuck in the Middle With You, without thinking of that scene. Now, how many people were decapitated in Kill Bill? It's a bit of an honest question, because I genuinely don't remember. While Tarantino has a well deserved reputation for violence, the violence in Reservoir Dogs is far more memorable, because there's far less of it, and the violence that occurs serves very deliberate story purposes. None of it is gratuitous for the purpose of, “here's a fight.” Where Kill Bill basically posits the question of, “how much can you cut out of an action film, while keeping the fight scenes, without the narrative completely collapsing?” As a result, there's a lot of violence, but none of it sticks with you. None of it has any particular impact. Even the moments that are supposed to be meaningful (such as the wedding) blend together.

Managing consequences of violence is more about preserving narrative tension. If that violence poses a real threat to your characters, then putting them in situations where they could be seriously injured or killed does have tension. But there are multiple points of potential failure with this thought process, and the more violence you engage in, the more risk you'll accidentally vent tension when you didn't intend to.

A major issue that can undermine your tension is when your characters, inexplicably, avoid harm. This is frequently an issue with non-powered superheroes, where throwing mountains of cannon fodder at them doesn't result in any meaningful wear and tear on the character.

Ironically, being too cavalier about violence can have a similar effect. Kill off too many characters, and your audience just won't care anymore about the survivors.

There are ways to manage this. A lot of the time a better option is to tie your characters' “fail state” to something other than your characters being hurt or killed. In fact, a lot of superhero narratives have to find other ways to maintain tension, because the protagonist is functionally immune to harm.

For example: The danger that a superhero will become completely ethically detached from their humanity. I hate to break it to you, but that's not a strictly new concept. The classic example of that is probably Dr. Manhattan from Watchmen, though The Comedian from the same is probably a better affirmative answer to your question. Could someone become completely debased when they're insulated from the consequences of their actions? Yeah. You don't even need fictional examples. Whoever Fights Monsters by Robert Ressler is a pretty decent, introductory, look into serial killer pathology, and the process of escalation they go through. Lack of adverse consequences can lead someone down a path to becoming their worst version of themselves.

Specifically talking about superheroes, Watchman casts a long shadow, and one of the issues that a lot of imitators suffered from was to pawn off a superhero's psychological problems into far more mundane causes, like abusive childhoods. (If you're wondering, this is why I'm not recommending things like The Boys, Irredeemable, or Invincible, it's because the only one of those that's even peripherally applicable is Invincible.) If you really want another example, Planetary comes to mind, though it won't be immediately apparent why that's relevant.

Something that's probably worth saying is, it's not about what I, or anyone else, wants to see from your work. This is about you finding the tools to do the best you can with your idea. So, I'm not really sitting her as an arbiter about what you can, can't, should, or shouldn't do. Rather, I'm mostly sitting here observing that, “this is how these things tend to work,” in a story. So, ultimately the decision is what you want to see in your work.

It's also worth remembering that hyperviolent media does exist. The violence doesn't have the same impact as in a more constrained narrative, but that doesn't make one story better than the other. I'm sure there are people who will argue that out of Tarantino's career, Kill Bill is the better film than Reservoir Dogs, (even if I'm not one to make that specific argument.) The point I don't often draw attention to, within the diminishing returns is, if you're going to use a lot of violence, it becomes difficult to pull out an individual violent moment and say, “no, this one's different; this one means more.” You can write an absolute gore-fest, but the individual moments of violence won't have the same kind of weight, and if you want one of those to carry more emotional weight, it's going to require a lot more care in how you structure your events.

A lot of the times with writing advice, it's not about, “right or wrong,” it's about identifying what works and what will take a bit more finesse to get working.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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butter-bubbles · 3 months ago

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Why Not Making Byler Canon Would be a Massive Mistake...

Okay, so clearly the Byler brainrot has been getting to me. But this post will be about how Byler would fundamentally improve Mike (and Will's) characters, and making them canon would be an insanely easy way for the Duffer brothers to prove their masters in story crafting and writing.

Unlike a lot of people on this sub, I'm not one to believe Mike was secretly in love with Will the whole time and was using El as his beard to conceal being gay. I think there's enough evidence to prove that he was in love with El, probably for all/most of S3. I'm also not one to just ship two guys because I'm a "teen girl who likes f*tishizing MLM" like a lot of (honestly mainly misogynistic) believe.

I ship them for one simply reason: Mike, especially, becomes an infinitely more interesting, complex, and likeable character by doing so. I loved S1 and S2 Mike, and was so deeply invested in his character, his eventual reunion with Eleven, and his friendship with Will when I was younger.

And I never understood what happened to Mike between S2 and S3. Being a good friend was his defining trait of S1/2, so what happened that made him such a selfish and self-absorbed character? It never made any sense to me, and I just chalked it up to him being a cringy preteen.

But no one else has trouble maintaining a relationship and their own sense of identity/selfhood, even the other preteens on the show. Hell, El's whole arc is about moving away from this sense of dependence on others for her identity.

Now I don't think he was secretly in love with Will the whole time; there's just not enough evidence to say that he wasn't in love with El (atp) and I do think his feelings were genuine. What there is evidence for is that he fused his identity/self with being El's boyfriend, to the detriment of his friends, his girlfriend, and ultimately himself. He could think of nothing and no one outside of El, which is age appropriate but also deeply unhealthy.

There's also evidence to suggest that he feels playing with his friends and otherwise indulging in hobbies/anything outside of his girlfriend is a "kid" thing based on his fight with Will. In fact, he intentionally distances himself from Will, which to me indicates that he viewed Will as "childish" and too far from heternormative boyhood to fully indulge in a friendship with.

At the end of S3, we see the infamous awkward make-out session that was one of the first indications that Byler could be real to me. Because it just didn't make sense to me; I get struggling to say I love you, especially for an adolescent boy (even if they really mean it), but after El affirms her feelings shouldn't he look happy? Instead, he's just confused.

In S4, I believe that this is when Mike really begins to fall for Will (without even knowing it). He's so obviously jealous over who the painting is for, which just doesn't have a heterosexual explanation; he's paying close attention to Will when he should notice his girlfriend's struggling; he, for some reason, is still having issues with saying I love you even though there's been no explanation for why he can't; all he does is fight with El and seems more "in love" with (the idea of) her when she's absent.

I think what's happening here is he's realizing that everything he wants in his relationship with El, he gets from Will. Self-assurance: emotional intimacy: mutual understanding: and especially a need for him that validates his protective instincts. And I don't think he's even conscious of it, but he just can't hide it from his face (or his actions) at all.

I've been on the fence about canon-Byler because of David Harbour's comment about Mileven being firmly at the forefront of S5 and that moment in S4 at the pizza parlour where Mike almost confesses to loving El, which seemed incredibly sincere. And ultimately, I still don't know if they have any chance in S5.

But what I do know is that Mike and Will complement each other the most out of anyone in the show. They can complete one another, recontextualize all of Mike's incongruous behavior, and illustrate that the Duffer brothers are thinking about their story beyond basic (and outdated) tropes about teenage boyhood and douchey male behavior that emerges post-puberty.

So even if Byler never becomes canon, I will maintain that they would be one of the best things to happen to Stranger Things. I'd be content with another love interest being introduced for Will, but I honestly don't think anyone else could do this much for the writing and story as making Byler canon (at least not in a single season). Only time will tell.

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #st5 #byler analysis #byler endgame #byler is canon #byler s5 #byler nation

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 5 months ago

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I'm just curious since I absolutely adore all your trans Ed fics, what made you read Ed as being trans? Is it more of a personal headcanon since we tend to see ourselves in fictional characters, or did you notice some tiny detail on the show that made you think so?

Oh my friend, I'm so glad you ask.

The cool thing about reading Ed as trans, I think, is that you do not even have to squint to do it. Literally you need to change exactly nothing, and this read suddenly adds a lot of nuance and additional juicy layers to his story and his journey with masculinity.

Ed's whole deal with masculinity, precisely exactly all of it, makes him feel so much like a trans guy who never outgrew the "I need to be hypermasculine so I pass" phase, fitting that read so precisely that given there are trans writers on the OFMD team I would be absolutely SHOCKED if at least some of it wasn't intentional. Every single trans guy I know has been through a version of this, where you come out and you know you're a man but you need everyone else to know, too, and so you lean very hard into masculinity to make damn sure you pass. And not just pass, but pass perfectly. Ed is forcing himself into such a heavy ideal of masculinity that it feels artificial; he needs to make sure everyone sees him as this perfect ideal of a masculine man that he cannot possibly live up to because no one could.

Certainly, parts of Ed's hyper-masculine presentation seem to be things that genuinely make him happy and bring him joy. That's important. Ed's happy to be a man, the problem is that he's trying to force himself into such a narrow idea of masculinity that it's stifling him. It's preventing him from enjoying more ""feminine"" things that he genuinely loves, because he's terrified of being seen as less of a man for it, and people like Izzy reinforce the idea that if Ed fucks up in his performance of masculinity, he's going to be in danger because of that. It's very real, and the added juiciness from reading Ed as trans adds so much to the great story that's already there, I think. There's this additional element of Ed knowing he's a man but needing to make sure everyone else could never doubt it, there's an additional perceived danger to slipping up, there's a sort of jealous admiration for guys like Stede who seem, at least on the surface, so much more comfortable with a different type of masculinity that Ed wishes he could have more of.

And on top of that, there's just a lot of other little additional things, like:

Ed making his beard his whole brand, it just screams beard dysphoria and "no one could ever claim I'm not a man because the beard is my whole THING."

Something about his relationship with his name, and how hard he has to try to get people like Izzy to call him by his name in front of others

The way Ed is dehumanized when he dares to step outside a very safe, masculine gender presentation - it's why Izzy saying "this thing you've become" when Ed is wearing a robe and painted nails hits so hard for me, I think

Okay. okay. listen. You know the scene where Ed makes CJ whip him in the balls. Listen. Ed baby. It just SCREAMS "people here don't know I'm trans and I don't know how much getting hit in the balls should ACTUALLY hurt so I'm gonna lay it on really really thick just to be safe"

There's a lot to be said about Ed and his clothing in a lot of directions, but I'm gonna leave it at how he's really figured out a safe set of clothing that works for him and consistently allows him to be read as this super masculine guy, and he's scared to step away from that. Also, I really like imagining the full-fingered gloves at the end of s1 as a way to cover up the nail polish on his fingernails until it wears off.

I think it's very sweet that Ed tends to be very private when talking about his personal and sex life with others, but a very, very easy explanation for how that got started is he just doesn't want to go around sharing personal details about his body with people!

Yeah. A trans read of Ed is so shockingly easy, fits so well, and adds so much to his journey, frankly I'm amazed it's not more common.

#ofmd #our flag means death #pccp's stuff #this is also why i just can't see izzy as trans at all - it's fine if others have that headcanon obvs #because projecting onto characters you like is awesome #but to me with this read izzy just scans as that gatekeepy guy who's like “but are you REALLY a guy if you dress like that”#this got very long. i'm so sorry. i had a lot to say

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 months ago

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reading update: October 2024

hello, ahoy, and welcome to my October reading recap.

I made a real effort to focus on spooOOOoooky books this month, in the name of the season; you may even recall that I started early and read some spooky stories at the tail end of September. (read Carmen Maria Machado's comic The Low, Low Woods, btw.)

I've never been great at sticking to a theme but I think it helped that what gets classified as "horror" can vary greatly, so I never really got bored of the genre. I did get disappointed more than once by how Not Spooky some of these books turned out to be, but that's a totally different question.

right at the end of the month you'll notice a couple of outliers with Caped Crusade and Luster, which happened entirely because I was out of library books and on the road for a conference, so I was reading what I could get my hands on! I've been working on rereading Caped Crusade on and off for a couple months and I bought Luster at a cool indie bookstore in the town I was visiting and then inhaled most of it on the way home.

ANYWAY. to the books!

And Then I Woke Up (Malcolm Devlin, 2022) - this is a novella with an interesting spin on the zombie story, where the "zombies" are actually people who have started suffering hallucinations that fill them with paranoia and force them see other people as monsters. so, like, there were never any REAL monsters, but a woman looked at her young son and saw him as a cannibalistic monster, so she killed him. so who's the real monster? it's very deep. this story's explanation for this is "the narrative," an idea so strong that it simply seems to take hold of anyone who's around a sufficiently charismatic ringleader who drives them to join in their delusions and kill innocents who don't share their worldview. it's not a super subtle zombie metaphor, but I guess very few zombie metaphors are. it's fine.

Through the Woods (Emily Carroll, 2014) - I truly wholeheartedly wish I had more to say about this but it's just a very charming creepy collection of comics. my favorite was the one that was the scariest, involving humans getting taken over by body-snatching worm monsters, but on the whole it was a very minor creepy factor. the art's great the whole way through.

Happy Medium (Sarah Adler, 2024) - Happy Medium is October's romance novel as picked by my patreonites, and I will admit: my hopes were not high going in. a conwoman posing as a psychic clashing with a skeptical hottie goat farmer didn't ping me as a great mix, but honestly? HONESTLY? it kind of served. there was a much more well-rounded emotional core to this book than I often encounter in my romance novels; at risk of sounding like a cornball it genuinely had a lot of heart. the conwoman is actually extremely charming, I was rooting for her in a big way, and her emotional journey goes so far beyond just falling in love with the goat farmer. I'll happily claim Happy Medium as my #1 romance of the year unless a challenger arises in the next two months, but it's not looking likely.

The Ones That Got Away (Stephen Graham Jones, 2010) - this is a collection of Graham's short stories that was published long before he became a huge name in horror with books like The Only Good Indians and My Heart Is a Chainsaw. and as much as I hate to say it, I think I personally prefer his longer form fiction. none of these short stories were bad, per se, and they're incredibly stylized and polished, but I think I like Jones' work a lot more when it has time to simmer out. I may have also been biased by the fact that I was desperately seeking something scary to read, because while Jones plays with some pretty narsty concepts, the horror tends not to hit until a last page reveal that recontextualizes everything that's come before. which is cool! but not scaring me as much as I wish it was.

The Salt Grows Heavy (Cassandra Khaw, 2023) - a lot of people told me I should read this because it stars a killer mermaid and a plague doctor, which are two aesthetic archetypes I love, and I will give this to Cassandra Khaw: I liked this a lot more than their other book, Nothing But Blackened Teeth. which is clearing a very low bar, since I didn't really like that book at all, but I do think Salt is genuinely a pretty marked improvement. the prose is still kind of torturously overwrought in many places and I desperately wish that Khaw would put the thesaurus away, but there's like. a Concept here. the core is fun.

Tell Me I'm Worthless (Alison Rumfitt, 2021) - this book is by far the scariest I read, because the horror is hatred and bigotry and a fucked up, evil house that brings out the very worst of everyone who steps inside of it. this book gets so fucked up and bloody and downright nasty in its exploration of the characters and the underlying bigotries that turn them against each other and drive them apart. I don't want to spoil anything, but the book follows a white trans woman named Alice and her mixed race, cis ex-girlfriend Ila. in the past Alice and Ila entered the evil house with their friend Hannah; that ended with Hannah dead and missing and Alice and Ila both scarred and traumatized, each certain that they were raped by the other. so that's what this book is like! not a lighthearted undertaking, but one that I could. not. put. down.

A Sunny Place for Shady People (Mariana Enríquez, trans. Megan McDowell 2024) - what is there to say? Enríquez is my short story queens, and her new release absolutely lived up to the precedent set for me by The Dangers of Smoking in Bed, which was originally published in 2009 but not translated into English until 2021. this collection is sooo aptly named, because many of the stories are obsessed with the terror of places: hotels haunted by memories, neighborhoods filled with ghosts, junkyards where bodies are hidden, towns abandoned and taken over by something sinister. also, completely detached from the quality of the writing, this book has one of the most striking covers I've encountered this year. the screaming yellow cover and bold purple text looked SO COOL under the purple string lights in my bedroom, which was a little +1 to my mood every time I saw it :)

Thirst (Marina Yuszczuk, trans. Heather Cleary 2024) - I think if I had to pick a favorite book from my spooktober reading, Thirst would edge Tell Me I'm Worthless out by just a hair, because I'm just SUCH a sucker for a modern gothic. this novel is split into two chunks. the first is narrated by a vampire (hinted to be one of Dracula's infamous brides) who flees the Old World and crosses the sea to find safety in a young Buenos Aires, where she struggles to figure out how to slake her thirst and escape from loneliness while avoiding detection in a modernizing world. ultimately she seals herself away in a crypt to escape the relentless pace of change around her, and that's when our perspective shifts. here we join a modern woman with a young son, an ex husband, and a dying mother, who's struggling under the pressure of grief as she watches her mother waste away. she ends up accidentally reawakening the vampire from the first half of the book, and you can imagine things get weirder from there. honestly, for me, the part of this book that's most brilliant is the latter half and it's deep meditation on grief, but the historical portion of the book also plays the vampire gothic to the hilt. delicious!

The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture (Glen Weldon, 2016) - this is a really fun piece of pop culture history, tracking how Batman came to be DC's little #1 it boy alongside the developing prominence of nerds and fandom as a cultural force to be reckoned with. as I said above, this was a reread for me, because I wanted to circle back now that I've actually read most of the major comic events discussed in the book. Weldon weaves between Batman in comics, TV, and movies to examine on how one portrayal influences another - for instance: the goofy '66 TV series saw a huge backlash in comics, which went way dark to reinforce a grim and serious Batman for 'real' fans who objected to the show making Batman a joke to much of the normie population - and I think that's a really neat lineage to trace. while I think Weldon is sometimes a bit too transparent with his own disdain for certain adaptations, he overall has an extremely levelheaded approach to Batfandom and a conversationally informative approach that I really enjoy. of particular note is the fact that Weldon is himself a gay man, making him one of the only writers I trust to talk about why he personally dislikes Joel Schmacher's movies without getting homophobic about it.

Luster (Raven Leilani, 2020) - this book!!! this was one of three novels recommended to me by Bonnie at Snowbound Books, and Bonnie if you are on this website I owe you my LIFE because you were 100% correct. I was obsessed from the very first line and it only gets better from there; Leilani's prose is painting a searing, witty Sistine Chapel to render her protagonist's miserable life in vivid color and detail. the short version is that our 23 year old hot mess finds herself jobless and homeless and ends up moving in with her married boyfriend who's 23 years her senior, where she forms a powerfully weird connection with his rage-filled wife and develops a bond with the couple's nerdy adopted daughter, as the two of them are the only Black women in the excessively white neighborhood. (spoiler alert: she also realizes that her married boyfriend is a fucking loser.) it's a simple enough premise but the execution is bananas in its flair. I couldn't believe this is Leilani's first and so far only novel; if she ever drops another I'll drag myself through barbed wire to get my hands on it.

Juniper & Thorn (Ava Reid, 2022) - I first became aware of this novel via twitter thread of Reid's that made its way to tumblr, in which Reid bemoaned being harangued by readers who were shocked that her dark fairy tale retelling had, you know, dark shit in it. having now read the book, I have to say: these people are fucking pussies. going into this book I was under the impression that there was full on-page father/daughter rape happening, which is actually NOT the case, so you can breathe easy if incest is a hard no for you. what's actually here is a wizard dad who's emotionally abusive, non-incestuous sexual abuse in the backstories of the main character and her love interest, some moderately explicit consensual sex, some bulimia, and [spoiler alert!] admittedly a lot more cannibalism than expected. it's not a lighthearted romp but it's also like, come on. come on. grow up. in terms of the actual book, rather than its controversy, I didn't LOVE it but I'm still compelled enough by the world building (particularly Jewish author Reid's Hueli people, who are a fairly obvious stand-in for Jews down to people claiming that they have horns and using phrenology to prove the have an unfair advantage at making money) that I'm going to check out Reid's earlier novel, The Wolf and the Woodsman, a novel set in the same world. it felt a little repetitive in places and the characters were largely pretty predictable, both of which may be a byproduct of trying to encapsulate the vibe of a classic fairy tale, but I had a good time reading it.

#bookblr #reading updates

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