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yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen · 4 years ago

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Hey 👋

How are you?

Could I please request a king Arthur prompt when he first starts courting his partner but originally they cant stand him like they think hes too cocky but he worms his way into their heart 🥰

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, a little angst.

Masterlist

The Queen

“Arthur, you could have any girl in the entire realm at your fingertips; why did you have to choose this one?” Wet Stick sighs, watching from under his cloak and cursing his friend for his taste in women. “He couldn’t just pick one of those nice noble ladies; he had to pick a headstrong girl with a chip on her shoulder,” he grumbles to himself.

You locked up the shop behind you and take off home, turning once to wave into the shadows knowing the knight is there watching. He emerges on a large brown horse, coming to walk beside you. “Good Evening, Sir Tristan; how was your day today?” you smile up at him, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

“How do you always know where I am, my Lady?” You reach into your knapsack and pull out a warm cheese roll wrapped in cloth, handing it up to him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he unwraps it and takes a large bite, moaning at the taste. “Is this why he wants to marry you? Because of how delicious your baking is? Honestly, if the King weren’t enamored with you, I’d probably ask you myself,” he laughs.

You groan, pulling your green cloak above your head. “Sir Tristan, how many times must I ask that you call me by my name? I am no lady, just a baker, no one special.”

“The King would disagree.” You cringe and walk a little faster towards the warmth of your cottage. “He thinks you’re the most beautiful maiden in the entire Kingdom, and Arthur always gets what he wants, and that’s you, my lady.” You stop and glare at him; he holds his hands up in defense using your name.

“Why would I want that cocky, overbearing brute of a man to marry me? He can go to hell for all I care.” Tristan doesn’t take offense like other knights because he knows how overbearing his friend can be. It’d been amusing to see Arthur fall for the beautiful, headstrong woman. Every flower ended up in the trash, letter burnt, and request for an audience denied. Arthur was close to giving up on courting the woman, but something was holding him back.

“Have I ever told you what he was like growing up?” You roll your eyes, already dreading the tale that is sure to highlight only the King’s good points.

“No,” you mumble, “but I’m sure it some heroic tale.” He barks out a laugh, and you stop to watch him, “what’s so funny?”

“What do you know about the King? Honestly, tell me,” he jumps down from the horse and grabs the reins walking beside you. “Because if that’s your opinion, then you don’t know him at all.”

You think about all you know about the King and realize with an ache in your belly that you didn’t know much about the King besides the rumors you’d heard. “Well,” you stumble, “he’s arrogant...uhm, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself...and,” you struggle to come up with something else, much to Tristan’s amusement.

“Arthur was raised in a brothel,” you pause, raising a brow, “I’m telling the truth. When his parents were murdered, he floated down the river in a boat and was found by the prostitutes washing their clothes by the river. They took him in and raised him. He, in turn, grew up and protected them. The brothel was one of the only places in all of Londinium that women were treated with respect. If someone got too handsy with one of the girls, Arthur would beat them within an inch of their life before they’d even think to disrespect a woman like that. Then he’d take all their money and give it to the girl.”

“He’s also really smart, smarter than the lot of us, at least. He had coffers hidden in the wall of the brothel behind a bookshelf. He dreamed of getting out and buying himself a piece of land, building a home. The girls would all be taken care of and wouldn’t have to be prostitutes anymore. He was damn close too before we found out he was the born King.” You mull over his words and keep walking closer towards your home.

“How did he feel about becoming the born King?” you ask quietly.

Tristan smiles, rubbing the snout of his horse affectionately. “He hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with the sword or being King. It wasn’t until he saw his friends being attacked, the Black Legs had us surrounded, outnumbered; there was no way we could win the fight. Arthur begged us to run away, that he was what they wanted, he was ready to die for us. Arthur embraced Excalibur and killed them all, saving us. He’s loyal to a fault that one. Then when Back Lack-” he takes a shuddering breath, and you reach out and rub his arm.

“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to say.” He wipes at his eyes with his cloak and smiles at you.

“No, I won’t let his memory fade because it makes me sad to talk about him. Back Lack was our friend, and Vortigern murdered him in front of his son and Arthur. Blue screamed, and I can still hear his wails in my head; Arthur took his son in and has become like a father to him.” You think of the young boy who follows behind the King and smiles.

You reach the door of your cottage and put your hand on the knob, dropping your head to the door with a sigh. “What does he say about me?” you ask, turning to look at the Knight, “I know he’s must have told you why he is trying so hard to court me.”

Tristan smiles, seeing the small crack in your cleverly crafted armor. “While you may not know the King at all, he knows everything about you. I dare say he’s in love with you.”

You search his eyes for any lie and sigh, opening the door and stepping inside. “Wait here for a moment, please,” he nods, and you close the door behind you. Emerging a few moments later in one of your clean dresses and a light blue cloak of fine fabric the King had gifted you, too delicate for you to throw into the trash. “Take me to him, please,” you ask, pulling the cloak over your head.

“Yes, my lady,” Tristan smiles, mounting his horse and reaching a hand out to pull you up behind him. He rides swift to the looming gates of the palace, and the heavy wooden doors creak as they’re pulled open. The hour is late, and there is only a handful of guards around watching you with a curious expression. You slide off the horse and follow closely behind Tristan as he weaves through the labyrinth of hallways before reaching a large door. He knocks out a combination, and Arthur’s voice comes from inside asking you to enter.

Tristan stands back and gives your hand a squeeze, “good luck. I promise he’s worth it.” You smile, trembling, and give him a return squeeze. You watch his back retreat and take a deep breath before turning the handle.

“Did she get home alright, Stick?” You follow his voice, stepping around the chair and looking down at him. He’s writing a letter, the quill moving across the page, a half-full glass of wine on the table to his left. “She didn’t see you, right? You know how much she detests having a guard.”

“She didn’t make it home okay,” you say quietly, but he jumps anyways, looking up at you with wide eyes. “But she did find her way safely to you, my King.” He rises from his chair and stands tall beside you, gazing into your eyes, and for the first time, you see past the facade of the King he’s created and instead see the man, Arthur.

“Are you well, my darling?” he asks, cupping your cheek; you close your eyes and lean into his touch. His smile is bright enough to rival the sun, and you smile back at him just as brightly.

“I learned about you tonight, my King,” he furrows his brow, “Sir Tristan was telling me tales of how you became King.”

He grins, “And what did he tell you?” He pulls away, pouring a second glass of wine and handing it to you. He takes your hand and leads you over to the roaring fire, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of it. You take a sip of the wine and put down the glass, climbing into his lap and putting your head against his shoulder. His hand comes up to wrap around your waist, keeping you snug to his side, putting down his glass of wine, and putting the other hand in your lap.

You roll his fingers between your hands, feeling the callouses from years of fighting coarse against your skin. He leans his head against your own, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. “He told me about you growing up in the brothel, how you protected those women, and their honor. He told me how you begged them to leave when the Black Legs came, and only when your friend’s lives were threatened did you finally wield Excalibur.”

You sit up and look him deep in the pools of blue that are his eyes, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “He also told me about Back Lack and Blue. How you’ve become like a father to him,” you trail off, looking down at his hand in your own, “he said you love me.” You look up and catch the storm in his expression, the showers of tears that threaten to fall as he’s reminded of his lost friend.

You cup his cheek and brush your fingers beneath his eye collected them like diamonds. “He died because of me because I wasn’t able to protect him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. He takes a shuddery breath, and you hold on to him with both hands, keeping his eyes on you. “You did the best you could; you are raising his son. He wouldn’t blame you for what happened.”

He tugs you closer, and your foreheads touch, “he would have liked you,” he gives a watery chuckle. “He’d have loved your baking, the way you stand up for yourself, and call me out on my bullshit.” You laugh, and he leans closer, “Tristan was right.”

“About what?” the ghost of his lips brushes yours, and you gasp at the touch.

“I love you,” you pull back a little, “I love how strong you are, loyal, fierce, and fucking stunning. You are everything I could ever ask for, and I know I came on too strong. I pushed you away when all I wanted was to hold you close like this. From the moment I saw you, spoke to you, the moment you chucked a rolling pin at my head, I knew.”

You cringe at one of the more colorful visits you had with the King. “What? What did you know?”

“That you are much more than a baker.” He nuzzles his nose against your own, and you give a breathless reply, begging him to tell you what you are. His lips touch yours slowly, just barely touching, and your eyes slide closed, moving closer to him when he whispers, “you’re my Queen.”

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#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Female Reader #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Character Fanfiction

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cadykeus-clay · 4 years ago

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i would low key love to hear your tangent about the differences there are between how VM and TM9 react with the world

ah, the perfect excuse for me to put off my 30 page reading, thank you :3

(i’m also going to preface this by saying most of this is stuff i’ve picked from other people’s various metas and i absolutely do not remember who those authors might be so i apologize jsdlkfsd)

....

but uh ... basically i feel like vox machina and the nein have a completely opposite standard for how they interact with the people the consider to be their “inner circle” vs. everyone who doesn’t qualify as that.

vm is a group of individuals who, overall, had one cruel person that slighted them but didn’t really destroy their faith in humanity. (their faith in themselves is a whole different horse. that ones .... woof. looking at you percy scanlan tary keyleth.) Percy had the briarwoods, Grog had Kevdak, the twins and tary had their father. so, the way that they interact with just random people that they meet is - with exceptions of course - amicable, or at the very least, respectably polite.

they’re the saviours of emon, the freers of whitestone. they have festivals held in their honor. they have kid fans and random farmers knocking on their doorstep for aid because they’ve heard tales of the kindness. sure, vex can be a hassle when she’s haggling down a price, and keyleth tends to poke buttons in way that gets her arrested a fair amount of the time, but at the end of the day they’re the people’s heroes, and they’re happy to be that!

their inner circle, however, is much more closely guarded. they have a few chosen allies (gilmore, allura, kima, kash and zahra, cassandra) and that’s it. They’re hesitant with anyone else trying to creep into their personal fold. Hell, it took beating up tary and him breaking down sobbing for them to even consider liking him. they’ve been burned by raishan and clarota and hotis, by individuals they let in and who then stabbed them in the back. they’ll do almost any favor for a stranger who asks, but they’ll be damned if they trust anyone to actually join their midst. vox machina is vox machina is vox machina and that’s incredibly hard to change.

the nein, on the other hand, are fundamentally a group of rejects. some of them have specific people they can point a finger at and say “i hate you”, but those problems stem from a greater societal rejection. beau has daddy issues, but she also felt rejected by the entire cobalt soul until dairon found her. caleb has trent’s fucked up shit, but he also has this constant pressure of having failed his entire country, not to mention the faceless hate piled up on him from living homeless for a year. jester’s whole deal is that she had to hide from LITERALLY ALL OF SOCIETY for her entire childhood because she wasn’t supposed to exist.

and so, the nein are shitheads to society right back. they’re mean to random barkeeps, they trash their inns and don’t say sorry, they mock most NPCs behind their back (or sometimes right to their face. @ marius). Every favor asked of them comes with a ton of deliberation and arguing about whether its bait or not (ie bowlgate, the giants in the mine outside rosohna, essiks “favors”).

but, on the flip side, they’re willing to tug just about anyone into their ranks. if society already hates them by default, what’s there to lose if they get close to someone? nothing, there’s only more love to be found! so it’s adopting random bird girls on the road, its sending cupcakes to a hag that cursed your friend, its sending messages to everyone you’ve ever met just to check in, it’s making someone sit in the hot tub with you and share trauma and then when you find out he started a war you say “we get it bro” and kiss him on the forehead. it’s “welcome to the mighty nein”.

and it’s also very interesting, i think, to talk about the ways in which the party interacts with themselves. vox machina was a family, undoubtedly, as is the nein now. but vox machina ... had a lack of desperation to their attachment. i mean for one, they took a full year off from adventuring together and scattered cross continent. even if the nein gets down time like they did, i expect they’ll just trail each other around like lemmings. (its kind of what they’ve been doing from hiatus until now with the eiselcross arc starting).

but vox machina just ... went. and scanlan walked away from the party and (after the heat of the moment), they agreed to just let him be. and pike would spend weeks on quests for sarenrae without much of a complaint. even at the end - and this will be a controversial take, i know - but they let vax go pretty easily. (sure, mechanically they were wiped from fighting, but besides tears the only attempt to defy trq was from percy, which even he gave up on with minimal struggle because vax said to stop it). that’s not to say they don’t miss each other when they’re gone! of course they do!!! but they trust each other to go off into the world, because the world as whole is a place they trust.

(the one exception to this might be vex, who fought every one of these situations adamantly, but that’s a whole separate essay about her issues stemming from an innate sense of ‘failed family’ that she’s desperate to not repeat, and less about a mistrust of everyone until proven otherwise)

the nein on the other hand. hoo boy. they’ve been hot glued to each other’s hips since day one. So many quotes (many from beau, which could be worked into my previous vex essay, as they’re very much cross-campaign foils. getting sidetracked again) are about their inability to separate. “You don’t get to choose who cares about you”; “No one goes”; “If one of us is gone for more than 7 days assume we’re dead and have a funeral”; “Do we have co-dependecy issues?” Jester’s cool personal vacation to her god’s get together turned into a party with everyone because why would she go anywhere without the nein? Veth’s time with Luc and/or Yeza is constantly overrun with the rest of the nein dropping in for fun. Even small things like shopping trips are so much more “oh well if you’re going then i’ll go” snowballs than they ever were with vm.

Also, ashley’s absences had to be much more forceful than in c1. Post episode 11, the only time yasha left the group (rather than someone else piloting her) of her own free will was when she ran in grief from molly’s grave. And yes, there’s something to be said about “oh they were on a boat for a long time she had nowhere to go” but if Matt can justify astral projection pike, i feel like he could justify ‘the stormlord teleports yasha away for a bit’ and he chose not to.

Because!!!!!!!!! of the dynamic that the nein has!!!!!!!! Because of this idea that the world is bad and cold and full of hate and in here in our little hut (soon to be mansion??????) it’s safe and good and full of love and no one can leave because then you’d be going somewhere much more dangerous and we can’t have that, now can we?

.....

well uh. that’s a lot of words. i hope they made some sense??? and were at all what you were expecting???? thank u for sending the ask tho this was very fun to write!!

tldr: vox machina is a group of people who were betrayed by one bad figure, so they trust the world and are wary of the individual; whereas the nein is a group of people who were failed by the world at large so they welcome the loner and fear the pack.

#critical role #vox machina #the mighty nein #critical role meta #hey the actual essay bit turned out be 1200 words On The Nose

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lunaralight09 · 4 years ago

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Could you do books that the scps might read?

Books that the SCPs might read

SCP 035 Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins Anna is shipped off to boarding school in Paris where she meets the super-charming Etienne, and that's when things get interesting. I was a squealing, giggly, mush-fest all the while through reading this book. Stephanie Perkins knows just how to turn a seemingly ordinary love story into an unputdownable read. SCP 040 Your Brain Needs a Hug: Life, Love, Mental Health, and Sandwiches Just the title of this book by Rae Earl makes us feel a little lighter. And we don’t know about you, but our brains could definitely use a hug right now. While the book is geared towards teens, we found Earl’s advice to be relevant for all ages — particularly for anyone who struggles with depression, anxiety, social media addiction, and self-esteem issues. TBH, pretty much anyone can benefit from this book! SCP 049 And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini And the Mountains Echoed is such an amazing and heartwarming read. It's about a pair of siblings that fate cruelly separates and then finally reunites. A must-read for its simple yet gripping narration and amiable characters. SCP 049-j The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain This is a French romance novella, and basically a love letter to book lovers. There's mystery, romance, and some of the most beautifully crafted sentences and paragraphs I have ever read. The ending is so sweet, even though you wonder how you ever got there so soon. SCP 053 Lulu and the Rabbit Next Door by Hilary McKay Lulu and her cousin help their neighbor Arthur learn to love and care for his (neglected) rabbit. She doesn’t want her neighbor to feel bad so she writes the rabbit little notes with helpful gifts signed from her own pet rabbit named Thumper. It’s a kind way to show Arthur how to take care of his new pet SCP 073 HumanKind: Changing the World One Small Act At a Time Looking for heart-warming stories of kindness and compassion? HumanKind by Brad Aronson was made for you. But the book isn’t only full of uplifting stories that will move you to happy tears, it’s also packed with practical and actionable tips for how to be kinder in your everyday. One thing is for sure: after you put this book down, you’ll feel inspired to do something nice for someone else. And because of that, we think this is one of the best books on the planet! SCP 076 Do Unto Animals We absolutely DEVOURED this book by Tracey Stewart. Whether you’re looking for tips on how to better understand skunks and squirrels or read your pet’s body language, every page is full of compassionate wisdom about to treat animals in a way that they deserve. Also, the illustrations are absolutely beautiful — we nearly wanted to pet the pages because the animal drawings were so lovable. SCP 079 Walden (Henry David Thoreau) With the outdoorsman renaissance happening as we speak, it is nice to look back at one of the books that probably started it. Walden isn’t the bore you read back in middle school, it takes time to appreciate like a nice bottle of red. Thoreau’s masterpiece tackles so much while quietly nudging your brain into activity. It also makes you want to build a cabin SCP 096 Black Beauty by Anna Sewell Told from the perspective of the horse, this story is so beautifully written that it's easy to get lost in it's pages. I laughed and cried, as did my daughter when she read it. SCP 105 Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury Warm and fuzzy the whole way through, Dandelion Wine is by far the best story to make you feel good. Though I'm not the correct age to directly relate to the young adult story, I still felt the warm summer days and the wonder of it all. SCP 106 Catch-22 – Joseph Heller “War is hell,” is the old adage we all know, but Catch-22 looks to modify that a bit. Instead, war becomes super goddamn weird. The book follows a bomber squadron in the Second World War whose collective sanity is slowly being eroded by whatever passes for power. Throughout it all, the main character keeps trying to prove himself insane enough to be kicked out of the Navy, which is precisely why he can’t

be kicked out. Which is a catch 22 and yes, this is where the phrase comes from. It’s a great extrapolation of quirks and idiosyncrasies we see in day to day life, only this time, they’re affecting war SCP 134 (I know she don't have eyes . But there is a books for blind people) A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass A Mango-Shaped Space is about a 13-year-old girl with synesthesia (she can see, taste, and hear colors) and her journey in getting a diagnosis and accepting herself and all her differences. It's sort of a coming-of-age story, too. As someone with multiple chronic illnesses who has gone through the same process at the same age, this really was an incredible reading experience. One of my favorite quotes is "We all do the best we can, trying to keep all the balls in the air at once." I recommend it to everyone. SCP 173 Rabbit, Run (John Updike) The greatest mid-life crisis novel of all time doesn’t actually deal with a mid-life crisis at all. Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom is 26 when he decides to leave his wife and son for a new life. Of course, what that new life is, and what exactly he wants out of it isn’t clear to the reader or to Rabbit himself. It will strike a cord with all men who struggle with the idea of settling down. SCP 239 The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling SCP 682 THE WOLF AND THE WATCHMAN BY NIKLAS NATT OCH DAG If you're the kind of person that can't get enough of Scandi noir films, TV shows and literature, then Niklas Natt och Dag's The Wolf And The Watchman should be next on your reading list. Set in 18th-century Stockholm, this tale is as dark as it gets, following the titular watchman and a detective as they hunt down the killer behind a dismembered corpse that appears in a local pond. As gruesome as it is gripping, it's the perfect literary companion as the nights get longer and increasingly eerie. SCP 847 The Case Against Satan by Ray Russell Two priests are called in to examine a girl who might be possessed by the devil. The Exorcist, right? Nope, it’s Ray Russell‘s The Case Against Satan, a novel of theological horror that beat William Peter Blatty’s book to print by eight years. The Case Against Satan is as much the story of a crisis of faith as it is a supernatural tale, and readers looking for a nuanced take on both should give it a try SCP 953 THE PILLOW BOOK BY SEI SHŌNAGON If you want to learn a bit more about the Japan of the past – and also, weirdly, all of us in the present – The Pillow Book is a cult classic you should absolutely try. Sei Shōnagon was a lady-in-waiting in the court of Empress Teishi in the year 1000 and here she collects her thoughts and musings about court life. To read a woman more than 1,000 years ago being as philosophical, neurotic and scandalous as anyone is today on social media is a thrill that lasts from the start to the end. SCP 1678 Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden Absolutely moving, the struggles Sayuri faces are painted so beautifully by Arthur Golden's masterful craft that you totally empathize with her as she grows and triumphs in a world designed to see her fail. The ultimate conclusion of the novel fills me with such warmth — it's both entirely unexpected and wholeheartedly appreciated.

#scp foundation #scp #scp 035 #scp 040 #scp 049 #scp 049-j #scp 073 #scp 076 #scp 079 #scp 096 #scp 105 #scp 106 #scp 134 #scp 173 #scp 239 #scp 682 #scp 847 #scp 953 #scp 1678 #scps #books

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nythberryy · 4 years ago

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Hold Me Tight (Erwin x fem!Reader)

I wrote an Attack on Titan fanfiction (oneshot) in which Erwin Smith is a real gentleman.

Words: 2955

Warning:

The story contains 18+ scenes and builds up slow.

-They'd known each other for a long time, yet none of them confessed until that rainy night.-

It starts a bit sad, but trust me, it ends well. 💞

It's my first story written in English, so I apologize for grammatical mistakes and cringe writing.

I hope you’ll still find it enjoyable. 💞

(I also posted it on ao3. You can find me there as: NythBerry)

Thank you for your time!✨

September was usually gilded by the last sunbeams of summer, however that day was colder than usual. As clouds gathered, the sky turned grey. Raindrops began to knock on the red tile roof just to then fall and soak the ground. It was raining all day without a break. Everyone from the city struggled to get through the mud. The carts couldn't fight it, the horses neighed as they tried to push forward. Wooden wheels crackled, some even broke in two.

A tall man walked into the guesthouse. Water was slowly dripping from his clothes. With each step he made, he left a puddle on the freshly washed floor. (Y/N) recognized him in a blink of an eye though his face was covered by the green hood he was wearing. He stopped at the counter and revealed his face. His blonde hair, that was always slicked back nicely, now was a mess. Wet strands fell on his forehead.

(Y/N) put down the mop and wiped her hands to greet the man. "Erwin!"

"Good evening, (Y/N)! I'd like to book a room for tonight."

"What happened to your trousers?" it was covered in mud to the knee "Is it that bad outside?"

"It's raining quite heavily" he said "I don't think I would be able to go back tomorrow."

"I'll prepare a room for you. Just sit down please. There's no one here anyway, except an elderly couple upstairs. Do you want to drink something warm? Tea maybe?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

Erwin took a seat in front of the counter and watched the woman placing the teapot on the stove. She quickly ran into the pantry and returned with a basket full of baked goods. She put some on a plate and gave it to the man.

"How's your father?" he asked while (Y/N) wiped the floor again. Her father owned this little guesthouse that once was famous.

"He's alright. But I'm afraid we won't be able to afford his medications. Less and less people can afford to book a room and we simply can't make the prices cheaper. I don't really know what to do."

"Don't worry, (Y/N)!" a kind hoarse voice appeared from behind. It was her father. "Welcome, Commander Smith! What brings you here again?"

"Good evening!" he greeted back. "Just another budget negotiation. As usual, the government has no intentions of increasing funds."

"As much as I want to support the Scouts, I unfortunately see why they don't want to do so in moments like this." Her father was in the regiment before he retired. Erwin and he shared similar views on the importance of going beyond the walls. "(Y/N)! Go prepare a room and find some clothes for him."

While she went to search dry clothes that would fit the commander, the two man began to talk about a different topic.

"I know why you visit this place so often" chuckled the father as he opened a bottle of whisky. He poured them both. "I see how you look at her."

For a moment Erwin didn't know what to say, which was quite unusual of him. A small smile curved his lips. "So, you found out my secret."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out. I have eyes. It's that simple." he sipped "You've known my daughter for years. Since when...?"

"It's one of those things that just can't be put in words. It was four years ago, that moment I realized I wanted to see her as many times as I could."

"Why didn't you tell her? You're afraid I'd bring the rifle? Or maybe you're more afraid of her? You think she would reject you?" he smiled "I can tell she has feelings for you too. Haven't you noticed how excited she is seeing you? She's not even looking at other guys, though she's in the age of marriage. What will she do when I'll be gone? At least you, as a commander, would make a great reputation for her." he joked "She'll be left alone like the last leaf on a tree before winter begins."

"That's why I won't tell her. I don't want to cause pain." he grabbed the glass and drank from it "To be honest, I don't even know if I'll be here next month. There's just no guarantee." he sighed "But I'm a selfish man. I still want to see her every time I'm near her. I'm truly the worst. I can't give her happiness, only suffering. I don't want (Y/N) to lose more people."

(Y/N)'s father knew Erwin was right. Her mother passed away, when she was fourteen; lost many loved ones when Shiganshina fell. Childhood friends, friends whom she trusted the most, old neighbours she liked and nearly all relatives of their family were gone now.

Both men knew the feeling. Without further words they agreed and sat back quietly.

(Y/N) heard the conversation. When she heard that Erwin had feelings for her, she thought her heart was going to break through her ribcage, like a desperate bird ready to be free. However, as he continued, her hearth shattered into pieces. (Y/N) pretended she didn't hear anything and told the blonde man his room was ready. He stood up and walked towards the stairs where she was standing.

"Change into these" she gave him the dry clothes "I'll knock on your door in ten minutes."

...

"Can I come in?" she asked. Erwin replied with a yes. (Y/N) walked into the room catching a glimpse of the commander's chest while he was buttoning the last button. He picked up the soaked clothes from the chair and held it out for (Y/N).

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"Erwin..." she began faintly and grabbed his arm "We need to talk."

"About what?" he looked surprised.

"I heard everything and-"

Erwin interrupted. "You don't have to worry about it. I won't do anything." he shook her hand off.

"You don't even want to know how I feel?"

"What would it change? You should find someone better. Someone who can be there for you. Someone who's not selfish. There're many good men out there."

"What about my choice? You think you can make decisions for me?"

He put the clothes back on the chair. "I don't want to put you through hell."

"It's already hell." she said with a slight hitch in her voice "You have no idea how long... How long I've ... Erwin..." Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheek.

It pained him to see the woman, whom he loved the most, looking so defeated.

"I love you, Erwin!" she cried out "And nothing can change that."

It snapped him out of his stubbornness for a second. He gently pulled (Y/N) into a hug, placing her head on his chest. The feeling of his warmth and beating hearth was pure heaven.

"I want you. Only you."

"(Y/N), I can't give you happiness."

"What it is at all?" she sniffled. "There's no such thing as that... It's not a destination you can arrive to and stay there for the rest of your life. Happiness is a temporary state. It comes and goes. And... What defines it anyways?

"I still don't want you to get hurt. Especially because of me." he paused for a bit "I could die at any time. What if I go on a mission and never come back?"

"You think I don't know that, Erwin? Every time you go out the walls I worry, but... Did you know that in this awful world you're the one who keeps me alive?" she pressed herself against his comforting chest "And what about you? You think you don't deserve your so-called happiness? If you have feelings for me, why don't you..."

As she looked up, her eyes met with his. Tears were coming to his sky-blue eyes.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?"

"I am. I want you to hold me tight and never let go."

...

Erwin placed his hand on her face caressing her cheek gently with his thumb. He leaned closer to kiss her forehead, then gave another kiss on her nose making her blush. Finally, he pressed his warm lips against hers. He sucked her lips slowly, evenly, as he was dining something sweet as nectar. She was his delicate flower.

His kiss was subtle and tender, however a wave of heat flushed through him causing to kiss more passionately. Erwin slid his tongue across her bottom lip luring her mouth to open for him. His tongue swirled around hers composing an intimate, sensual dance. A slight moan escaped from (Y/N) in response. She slid her hands up his back, running her fingers through his soft blonde hair. As a result, he groaned, and the urge to pull her hips against his grew. As much as he wanted to devour her, he had to resist.

The commander pulled away, only to realize that he wasn't the only one getting excited. The woman's body was filled with desire too. He watched her chest rise and fall hastily with each breath she took. He couldn't help but admire the beauty that was in front of him.

"You're gorgeous, (Y/N)." he held both of her hands and placed two gentle kisses on them "If we don't stop now, I won't be able to hold back. You're driving me crazy."

"I feel the same. I want you, Erwin."

Their lips met once again. The passion they felt had been buried in their hearts for years. The man possessed her lips claiming every centimetre of it while she held onto his strong shoulders tightly. Erwin guided her slowly to the writing table, not breaking the kiss even for a second. He lifted her up and placed her on the desk.

The commander's lips travelled down her neck and goose bumps flooded her skin tilting her head to the side. He tucked her blouse out of her skirt to slide his large hands under the fabric. When he touched her stomach, a sudden thought startled her. What if she's not good enough?

"Erwin... The candles..."

"I want to see you" he whispered in her ear.

"But..." she grasped his shoulder.

"No buts. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. No one can compete with you" the man kissed her cheek "Can I take your blouse off?"

She'd been deprived for far too long of this man who now was standing right in front of her. She nodded, and looked away in fear of what he would see might disgust him. Erwin took it off her and freed her breasts from the undergarment.

"Look at me, (Y/N)." he begged and with a bit of hesitation, she did so, finding his sparkling blue eyes, so full of love and excitement, staring down at her. Meeting his gaze, she smiled sweetly before closing her eyes as he inclined his head. He also pulled his hips tight against hers. "You did this to me, (Y/N)."

He laid her down gently on the wobbly desk and his mouth was on her breasts quicky, conquering all of it. His fiery tongue played with one of her nipples while the other was held in his hand. Next, he travelled lower and lower, down to her stomach, only to find the skirt in the way. She felt a sudden wetness between her legs.

"Can I?" he asked for permission. She nodded. She ached for it.

He removed the skirt and her shoes too. Erwin placed a kiss on her beauty through her panties before he pulled it off and trailed it down her leg. He kissed the hill again and ran two fingers down on it.

"You're soaking already, (Y/N)." then he started to explore her slit with his tongue "You're so sweet, my darling."

He sucked on the folds a little, then parted them to make his way up to her clit which he tickled wickedly. With a finger he began tracing circles around her entry. Shortly after, he slid it in. (Y/N) flinched a little, letting out a moan. After he realized she could take more, he added another one.

She enjoyed it greatly. She grabbed Erwin's head, ran her fingers through his soft hair while pulling him closer to her hips. She wanted more. Erwin was surprised by her action, and began to lick and move his fingers more passionately. Her body was burning in explicit heat. A sudden wave of extasy rushed through her and he was proud seeing his efforts paying off.

The man straightened up to hurriedly rip his shirt off and throw it on the floor. (Y/N) was mesmerized by his well- built form. She wanted to touch it, so she sat up to lean closer. She explored each muscle with her finger, even caressed his hard nipples. She travelled further down to his pants. Hearing the sharp intake of breath as her fingers lightly touched his sensitised flesh made her wanting Erwin even more.

"If you touch me like that I might..." Erwin's mouth left an excited hiss as she pulled down his trousers a little.

He stepped back to take it off along with his shoes as well. As he tugged down his underwear, his rock-hard, massive manhood revealed.

"Well..." she said in surprise "That is a titan."

He couldn't help but giggle. (Y/N) glanced up, seeing him smile at her with a sweet, sensuous smile. He stepped closer to possess her lips and lift her up from the desk just to then put her gently on the bed.

He was on top of her. The woman's breast against his chest while she wrapped her legs around his trim waist made him lose it all. He wanted to be inside her.

"(Y/N)" he sighed "Can I?"

"Yes, Erwin!"

He began to trace her entry in circular motions with his member. Softly, he placed the tip inside. She moaned in pain, feeling it tearing her walls.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asked with worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay. It's okay" she caressed his clean-shaved face. "Go on, my commander."

Their lips joined again, while he grabbed her hips and plunged deep inside her. He waited a little so she could get used to his size. A couple of minutes later, he began to move gently, sliding in and out gradually going further and speeding up the rhythm. As he heard her sweet moans, felt her warmness and tightness around him, he fell into an abyss of pleasure. Erwin couldn't tame his desire anymore, finding himself thrusting into her with an enormous intensity. He couldn't get himself to stop now. He wanted her.

Erwin grunted and groaned which she found immensely sexy. The pain already faded away, endless pleasure and joy replaced it. His thick hands made their way up to her breasts, grabbing it with more and more greed.

"I love you, Erwin" she cried out.

"I love you more."

Shameful sounds filled the room and the man increased his speed to the maximum. (Y/N) latched onto his shoulders and buried her head into his chest, trembling hard against him. A wave of pleasure started to hit them both. She tightened around his manhood, and he couldn't hold on any longer as she continued to clutch. The unbearable yet wonderful torture of being lost in her made him release his seed inside of her. It was an indescribable feeling being filled up by the man of his dreams. They remained like this for a while, panting heavily.

Erwin pulled out of her but didn't let go as he wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm sorry." he said, stroking her hair.

"For what?"

"For loving you so badly, that I lost myself and couldn't hold back."

"You're so silly." she chuckled "I enjoyed every minute of it."

"Can I clean you up?" he asked placing a gentle kiss on her forehead "I've made a mess down there"

She nodded and the commander put his underwear on. He brought a wet towel and sit back on the bed. He gently spread her legs to wipe her womanhood. Then he softly stretched her entry with his finger. Erwin blushed as he saw his liquid oozing out of her.

"Erwin?" she noticed the rosiness on his cheeks.

"Nothing..." he said looking away "I apologize."

"No need to." she sat up giving him a quick little kiss on his pink cheek "I love you!"

"I love you more, (Y/N)"

...

Morning came shining its warm, golden sunbeams. All the clouds were gone and she was in his arms, all his and he would never be so foolish to let her go. She opened her eyes, only to get lost in his sky-blue iris.

"Good morning, love!" he caressed her face.

"Morning, Erwin..." she yawned and quicky realized, that she should've been up a long time ago. "My god! I should be downstairs! What time is it? Oh! And I haven't even washed your clothes!"

"Shhh..." he stopped you from jumping out of the bed by hugging you from behind "No need to hurry. It's only six thirty."

"I wake up at five!"

"You're open at seven..."

"Yes, but there's work to do. Buying things from the market, breakfast to prepare, cleaning..." she counted on her fingers.

"It can wait. Just stay with me like this for five minutes"

"Then hold me tight, Erwin."

She couldn't resist him. She was lost in his alluring presence whenever she was with him. It was pure heaven to be in his loving arms.

The end

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #attack on titan #aot #snk #aot erwin #erwin smith fanfic #erwin smith oneshot #erwin smith x you #erwinsmith #shingeki no kyojin #commander erwin

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convxction · 3 years ago

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[it has been a while since i talked about the shepherds but i never forget that each and every one of them taught chrom something or they are really super duper important people in his life, whether directly or indirectly by their actions or words. just a couple of things i remembered and i like to implement in my writing because mwah chef kiss to his character development (that intelsys thinks he is just a big dumb himbo who cant ride a fricking horse and uses falchion for cake cutting and even does not know how to peal a frikcing orange please that was gaius trying to make olivia smile im crying stop)

frederick

probably the man. the legend. the myth who said something it send me to deeper thinking zone because gdi someone needed to slap that to chrom’s face. it’s in one of the dlcs if you couldnt save the citizens from that crazy grimleal (im lazy to search but you know what i mean right) and chrom is beating himself for not being there and frederick just booms drop that even the hero-king could not each everywhere;he’s human. he can help the people he can reach but he can’t be everywhere and for everyone thats why he needs to just focus on what he can do and chrom just wow...deep...surprisingly coming from you freddy and frederick lol-wait what? its just a good moment you will miss if u saved everyone. like this line could really save chrom’s tormented soul i kid you not. this line is just mwah mwah mwah. i love frederick for always knowing what to say to calm chrom and im just here...crying.... best big bro/father figure chrom could ever ask. pans and pots frederick for a very long vacation from this hell please give him vacation. he deserves it.

lissa

i will beat anyone if they say she is useless. bitches she cried for chrom when he couldn’t. she complained when chrom couldn’t. she did everything when chrom couldn’t because she wants to be of help to him. she looked after chrom the most and im legit cherish her so much. after frederick she knows how chrom beat himself over everything even if he didnt say it out loud she knows he is trying to take everything on his shoulders thats why she tried her little stunt to go and scout on her own to help him. i will treasure her. her pranks? anything to get him to loosen up. probably started as pranks but i can see her just trying to make him smile or just have a reaction out of him to loosen up. i love her man. i just love her. i hope lissa fire emblem awakening is happy forever.

vaike

the man. what can i say about vaike dude? the man makes chrom feel like his struggle against classes and ranks and all that crap is worth fighting it. vaike not seeing chrom as a prince, keeps bothering him in every possible way and that talks volume of the amount of trust vaike gives chrom. being from the slums--the slice in ylisstol affected the most of the 15 years war and the exaltship been shifted to emmryn and the slow healing process, yet vaike decided to give chrom the benefit of the doubt and trust him to do something about it. im here for my bro. i am here for the source of inspiration to chrom to keep going. right here. this man. the teach.

gaius

yodels into the next galaxy about the drama cd and i will never ever shut up about how gaius is the coolest motherfulucker for saving chrom’s ass because he is a stubborn lil beech. not only that the slaps of wisdom words at him. im here for someone frankly and all honestly tell chrom what is wrong with him 1,2,3 and just not sugar coat it. im here for someone to drag his ass and use him as a walking peggybank but you know showing him how a normal person spend money and enjoy his life. im here for gaius working from the shadows to support chrom. im here for this thief. now i wanna go and rewatch the drama cd...sobs..gaius..my love...my husbando ...

cordelia

listen. cordelia did a huge favor for chrom by getting vaike stronger. you dont understand he owe her. she made his rival stronger and as she said that it will make chrom stronger. bless her soul she knows how that muscle brain works.

maribelle

forever grateful she is lissa’s friend. chrom could entrust his sister to her and go without any worry to wherever he needs to go because he trusts that maribelle will have her back. in her debt for keeping lissa in check. thank you mlady. you are the best. it warms his heart to have someone by lissa’s side because of how tough her childhood was sobs...no brand and all ;a; thats why maribelle is just ...literally the heroine. three cheers for maribelle !!!

ricken

rolls on the ground ... listen .... come closer ...listen ... i am .... i care for this boy. chrom may have fans or whatever but ricken is just ... the best. the little brother he didn’t have. ricken fanboying over chrom makes him more eager to be the best role model he can--but not to the effect where he does not act like himself. ricken inspires chrom to do his best and work harder seeing the boy doing his BEST to be of help and honestly get chrom to notice his efforts. please. boy you are perceived but dont be reckless. u got magic. thats the coolest thing. he cant do magic. be the best in what you do. another lesson chrom had to remember when he talks with ricken. he got his swordsmanship skills but he should always strive to be better, to be the best ! not stopping his learning journey!

stahl

STAHL!!!! im crying the poor man. stahl reminded chrom that his words carry a lot of weight if he didn’t notice how he say them. stahl trying to present the best just killed him because he didnt want to disappoint chrom and chrom is just wait hold on what are you doing when did i--oohh...im sorry;; i didnt mean to burden you like that i just wanted to praise you;;; .... IM WEEPING.... stahl my son why. and it is honestly funny and insightful because chrom praise people left and right and as someone as stahl it can be a lot of weight on his shoulders--the expectations of being the BEST from now and on. it opened chrom’s eyes to choose his words more wisely. yes he is charismatic by nature but not all have the same personality you know. some their anxiety gets the better of them like stahl and their mind play tricks on them to make it sound like an order more than a praise. so yee.... sits in here ....my boy dont kill yourself please.

i will rant more but now my other hand is hurty hahah...what is going on hahaha...ahh...

i love the shepherds. they are chrom’s family.

#⚔ooc.⚔ (faty speaks)#⚔headcanon.⚔ (building up)#[sits in a corner and weep...i love them...i love them man ;a;#[[chrom in warriors: i am nothing without everyone!#[[me: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa SHUT U #[SHUT UP BOY WHY YOU KNOW YOURSELF THIS MUCH U USELESS BINCH

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nooowestayandgetcaught · 3 years ago

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ALL 40 BAYBEE!!!!! GIMME SUM ANSWERS

5) Share one of your strengths.

Being,,, prolific?? ?????? ??? ???????????

6) Share one of your weaknesses.

My own mind. No really I'm basically my own worst enemy because I'm too much of a perfectionist and hate myself and mess myself up.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Stars are the many, many eyes left behind of the Old Gods.

Arya heard this before. She's heard that the stars are the last of the Weeping Lady's tears. They are the eternally bleeding wounds of the Great Shepard according to the Dothraki. They are the drops of poison given to Baelor the Beloved as he laid asleep. They are the immortal sparks of R'hallor's breath. Arya believes the stars are nothing. They exist in a chasm of darkness and death, and no-one is meant to understand why.

Evermore (T, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Game of Thrones, 1179 words)

I HAD A LOT OF FUN GOING THROUGH WESTOROS MYTHOLOGY AND TALES IN HISTORY TO MAKE THAT PART. AND THEN WRITING OUT ARYA'S THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT.

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"I liked this shirt, you know," Will complains faintly.

Behind him, one of the car-windows rattle. A badly burned hand emerges from the smoke, clawing helplessly.

"We will find you another," Hannibal tells him, disregarding the murderer's intense, gagging screams.

"That's not the point."

"You're holding on needlessly to the limited value of your material possessions, Will. That's not like you." Hannibal lightly clucks his tongue as if disapproving, approaching him and thumbing down Will's jaw. He's warm and wet, and glorious. He's evolving.

"Says the man who buys Patek Philippe wristwatches," Will retorts softly. "For his own pleasure."

The corner of Hannibal's mouth smirks.

"And what kind of pleasure exists within your mind's eye right now, Will?"

"Ripping out your jugular vein with my teeth," Will murmurs, stroking his lambskin-gloved thumb against Hannibal's neck.

"I would be honored."

The Crescendo Of Dying Screams (M, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal (TV), 908 words)

THIS IS JUST FUN!!! THEY WERE FUN TO WRITE FOR AGAIN AND I HAVE NOT WRITTEN FOR HANNIGRAM IN A WHILE!!

13) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Even if you think it sucks,,,, write it down anyway and then fix it later. The important part is to write and start writing.

14) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Thankfully,,, I don't think I've come across any yet.

15) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I would love to see Perambulate (G, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline & Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee, Adventure Time, 1358 words) done in a comic at least because I NEED THESE TWO CANON COUPLES TO MEET AND BE SILLY. CANON WLW AND MLM.

16) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

NOT REALISTIC. I DO NOT FUNCTION LIKE THAT

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I start out from beginning to ending but sometimes I gotta skip around to keep it going if I get stuck.

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

*shrugs*

19) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

It's probably a little moth trapped in a jar and beating itself senselessly against the glass, but it kind of enjoys it??

20) Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Wrapped in a blanket, alone in my room with headphones and music blasting, with a large water bottle and a little bit of chocolate.

21) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends really! Sometimes I'll go through and correct once, and sometimes I will go through like 14 times in one day!

24) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I have! I will upload it again sometime but like,,,,, the person I had made it for in an AO3 fest basically fucked off and me removing it was me going "nah fuck this,,,, it ain't yours anymore!!!"

27) How do you feel about collaborations?

I have done them! I think they're nice! I do not like long term collaboration projects but for a oneshot, yes!

28) Share your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@glove23 - I look up to this fic writer so much! They have been battling depression and anxiety, and the complexities of their ADHD, for such a long time and whenever they post something,,, I get so excited! I'm really proud of them! It's hard enough for me to write on a bad mental health day, and I know the struggle they go through, and it's INCREDIBLE to see what they can do! They have been writing since they were young and it really shows how much they love writing and how hard they work on getting the characterization and dialogue to be spot on! Obsessed with their work! (AO3)

@not-so-mundane-after-all-97 - What a powerhouse! Incredible writing and fantastic handling of how she structures plot! Constantly in awe of the ideas she has and when they are well-executed (and they are all of the time)! If you are a fan of Will/Lyra from HDM, this is the person to go to for quality! I promise! (AO3)

other writers I really like are @spookywitchnerd24, @theschubita, @anxiouss-princess, @asajjvxntress, @kingburu, @rapha-writes

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

ngl I really wanna do the "they get back from horse riding and Aleksander refuses to leave Alina's side while she's getting healed" sequel to you are too well tangled in my soul by @glove23

31) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Meh. It depends on the thing I'm writing.

32) How do you feel about smut?

I write it all of the time and read it all of the time. I don't think it's a big deal at all. I respect that it's uncomfy for a lot of people

33) How do you feel about crack?

It's fun! And it can be done well! I saw more crack fic being done back in,,,, like the early 00s and now I don't see it as much,,,,, sad

34) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

You know what,,, I was just discussing the psychology of why noncon fic is so popular on AO3 (and I have written it before and to my surprise IT GETS THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF VIEWS) and,,, I think the key components to answering this question is understanding that 1) AO3 allows noncon fic to exist therefore it's a dumping ground and 2) rape culture is so embedded into US-centric society especially and 3) there's a lot of traumatized people on AO3 and likely creating noncon to process what happened to them and 4) it's a taboo subject and humanity has been drawn to and obsessed with what is taboo since forever,,,, and tbh the taboo is fascinating to me! It does draw me in! I have written for it and I've read it, and I think it's important to ask questions and examine why we do this!

35) Would you ever kill off a canon character?

HELL YEAH. ABSOLUTELY. I HAVE DONE IT BEFORE AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!! I prefer more "oh my god they're dead--OH! now they're alive! yayyyyy!" over permanent character death

36) Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3. AO3 is queen. I'm not gonna badmouth FFN and Wattpad in terms of people who go there because that's your business however FFN and Wattpad are largely restrictive and mainstream corporate owned areas of interest that don't give a single shit about their users.

38) Talk about a review that made your day.

Whenever my writer friends comment on my fic,,, I literally get emotional. Like those are my favorite comments to see :)

39) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

BE SAD FOR HALF A SECOND AND THEN FIGHT.

#ask #WELL THIS GOT LONG KLFKFFDDF

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6knotty6thotty6 · 4 years ago

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So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck:

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion.

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered, was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it.

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it."

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got.

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it.

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat.

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes.

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not.

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled.

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway.

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you?

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!

#child abuse #abuse #domestic abuse #family #survivor #YouTube #bojack horseman #forgive #mom #mother #friend #friends #story #personal #chicken soup for the soul #free churro #monolouge #father #dad

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (Review: Part One)

Please. Let me write a Greek mythology movie. I’m tired.

I am SO TIRED of Greek mythology being so...misused. Do y’all realize how much potential lies in an adaptation, a PROPER adaptation of Greek myths? Because it’d be fantastic if done well. Look, I’m not a writer, let alone a script or screenwriter, but I could write a better adaptation of Greek mythology, I swear I could.

Full warning, you might wanna skip this part. It’s gonna be...REALLY long.

So, yeah, this “review” is getting broken up into two parts. The first part here is really just a rant/hypothetical Perseus film that Id make if I had any screenwriting ability. Yeah, it’s basically a fanfic, so feel free to, like, not. Check out the Review here. Read ahead at your own peril.

You might be saying, “OK, bet; how would you adapt the story of Perseus?” Fair question, metaphorical yet judgmental person; how would I do it, exactly? Well, I’d mostly do it straight, to be honest. But you need to make this a cinematic adaptation, right? SO story changed need to be made, I get that. And I think that needs to start with the gods.

First up, you need Zeus, if for no other reason than to father Perseus. I do like the fact that he’s a patron for Perseus throughout these movies, but I don’t like Zeus as a straight-up dad. That’s for various reasons, but I’ll get there. Perseus’ main patron, instead, should be his half-sister: Athena.

Seriously, Athena needs to be a big part of this movie. She’s not exactly one of the biggest patrons for heroes, but she does like them. In the case of Perseus, she should sympathize with him. Perseus, after all, is one of the first major Greek heroes. Yeah, he really should be one of the first, and that needs to be fully acknowledged. Athena, in her LITERAL INFINITE WISDOM, should see the young demigod for what he could become: a bonafide hero. And so, she needs to be a part of this movie. One of her key allies should be...

Hermes should be, well, mercurial. Always moving, never truly still, because dude is CONSTANTLY busy. Not only is he a messenger, but he’s also the god of medicine, AND a psychopomp that escorts spirits to the underworld. Yeah, he wears a lot of winged hats. He’s also another extramarital child of Zeus, giving him sympathy for Perseus as well.

While he’s mostly a neutral god, he could also serve as a messenger from Athena to Perseus, delivering to him the gifts from the gods. He could even be the one who gets the Helm of Darkness from Hades, given his relationship to death and the Underworld. So, he’s gotta be in there as an ally of Athena. Hell, he could even be the one who finds Perseus and tells Athena about him in the first place. OK, Athena and Perseus now have an ally, so what about a villain?

Well, this movie had Calibos and technically Thetis, the 2010 had fuckin’ Hades (because of course they did), but no. Both are the wrong choice. The right choice here, in my humble opinion, is one that MAKES FUCKING SENSE.

Hot take: POSEIDON IS AN ASSHOLE. I realize that this statement has doomed me to a death at sea, but that won’t stop me from hiding the truth. Yeah, dude’s the god of the ocean, and of horses, but he’s also the father of countless monsters, nearly as horny as his younger brother Zeus, and the god of earthquakes. He’s a petty, tempestuous god, as angry and ever-changing as the ocean that he rules. And he’s ABSOLUTELY the right choice for a villain of a Perseus movie.

The movie would begin in the ocean, the source of all of the troubles in this movie. 20 years before the main events of the film, we emerge from the ocean and soar over an island, on which is a beautiful temple. Waves wash over the island, enveloping it. A woman’s scream is heard in the background, as we soar over the island, following an owl that is flying away from the island. As we fly over the ocean, narration tells us that this is a world of gods and monsters, and the owl flies over creatures in the ocean, like hippocampi and other such creatures. The owl flies over another island, which on screen text identifies as Argos. Here, a shower of gold dust flies up from a building. Perseus has just been conceived.

Cut to a day not too far afterwards, where King Acrisius is meeting with an unseen trio of women, in a cave on a mountainside. The king tells them that his daughter, Danae, has become pregnant, although he knows not by whom. The women reveal that Zeus is her lover, and that this will bring great ruin onto the kingdom of Argos, especially onto Acrisius himself. This is a big problem, too, as the kingdom of Argos worships Poseidon as their patron god. Acrisius, see, was planning on saving Danae for Poseidon, as a perverse offering to the god. But Zeus beat him to the punch, which has made Poseidon angry. And so, Acrisius sacrifices his daughter to Poseidon...by putting her in a box, which he casts out to sea.

Poseidon is about to destroy the box and Danae, who is still pregnant with her child. However, Zeus won’t have it, and in a battle between the two gods, a storm with golden lightning rages over the sea, and sweeps the box away, to the safety of an island where it washes up on shore, AWAY from Poseidon’s wrath. Zeus’ protection saves Danae, who has given birth to a son: Perseus. Poseidon, spurned of his revenge against his brother, makes a child of his own. But we only see its shadow beneath the waves. He’ll come back later.

Time passes, and a few things happen. The kingdom of Argos falls, and Acrisius is brought to ruin, as the mysterious prophetesses predicted. They are starved of fish, and the king is blamed, for condemning his daughter to death. He is driven into exile, and Argos is destroyed...by Poseidon’s mysterious child, who is only known by the name Cetus. The city still exists afterward, so that Perseus has a place to return to, but it’s wrecked.

Meanwhile, Perseus grows up, into a young man. He’s not particularly strapping, but he’s still surprisingly strong and hardy for his size. All the while, he’s watched over by a little owl, the same one we saw in the beginning of the film, flying over the ocean. Appearing below the owl is a rooster, which flies up next to the owl. Both of them watch the young Perseus, then look up when they hear the screech of a golden eagle, flying high in the sky above them. They look at each other, as the eagle flies up to the tip of a nearby mountain. The owl and rooster fly off, with the rooster flying higher than a rooster should be able to fly.

We follow them as they pass through the clouds, and they turn into their true forms: Athena and Hermes. They watch the golden eagle fly into a separate grand temple, as thunder and lightning appear. We’re not gonna see Zeus until nearly the end of this movie. Athena and Hermes discuss Perseus in Athena’s temple on Olympus. Hermes is a bit busy, so he’s off in a hurry, but Athena sits and ponders Perseus’ situation.

Perseus, meanwhile, has a different problem: surviving. Poseidon’s been particularly dickish lately, and the fish stock around Perseus’ island is low as FUCK. His mother, meanwhile, is older now, and struggling with her health. An old hermit walks into the village one day, and hears Perseus’ troubles. The hermit tells Perseus that the fish market is good near the nearby kingdom of Aethiopia, which includes a large and prosperous city that may also have medicine to help his ailing mother. Perseus decides to go on the journey there. As he leaves the hermit, we see the hermit’s eye color change to a sparkling electric blue.

Perseus heads onto the seas, with a fishing boat leaving for Aethiopia. The second that boat hits the water, Poseidon senses the blood of Zeus on his ocean. Being the petty asshole he is, he sees his chance to finally exact revenge on Zeus for stealing Danae from him. He sends his child, Cetus, after the ship to sink it. We don’t see the Cetus brings rough water with it. However, Zeus again protects the ship on its journey, and Poseidon’s SUPER butthurt now. He watches Perseus make his way to Aethiopia.

Aethiopia, in this movie, is a city that doesn’t particularly worship any one god. It’s not exactly the least theistic place in the world, though, because its residents will still fear any action that the gods take against them. That’ll come in handy later. Perseus lands there with the boat, and is immediately overwhelmed by the city’s grandeur. Additionally, he stands out here, as the people there are mostly, surprise surprise, black and brown in skin color. BECAUSE IT’S NORTHERN AFRICA!!! YEAH! Andromeda COULD BE BLACK, FUN GODDAMN FACT. Aethiopia was used to describe southern kingdoms below Libya, which was northern Africa! Come on, man!

While wandering blind through the city, Perseus bumps into a young woman, shrouded in plain vestments as she walks through the village. And it’s immediately love at first sight for Perseus, although the young woman seems somewhat nonplussed. This is the beautiful and radiant Andromeda, and YEAH! I’M RIPPING OFF ALADDIN A LITTLE! SUE MEI! See, Andromeda’s trying to explore her kingdom, as she’s been somewhat sheltered throughout her life, protected in the castle by father King Cepheus and shallow mother Queen Cassiopeia.

The two part quickly, but her visage remains in Perseus’ mind, horny Zeus’ kid that he is. He finds out who she is later on, considering what’s about to happen. See, there’s a festival going on, and it’s actually leading up to Andromeda’s 20th birthday. The overly clingy Cepheus honors his daughter unnecessarily, setting up an entire 2-week celebration leading up to her birthday.

During the nightly celebration, which Perseus attends, there’s a great feast. He bumps into Andromeda once again, and the two start talking. Andromeda is kind, if naïve, and wants to be a good queen to her people. However, she feels like a trophy, set aside for any given suitor wanting to win her heart. Perseus sympathizes, and feels a bit guilty, as her beauty was what struck him most at first, but has now begun to appreciate her as a person, over the course of this conversation. Said conversation is watched by Athene, in owl form once again.

The conversation’s interrupted by Queen Cassiopeia, who makes a speech about her daughter, and you know what’s coming here. She says that her daughter is beautiful, moreso than any of the Nereids, or anything that the sea could produce. And everybody laughs, it’s real funny, people agree...and then, we zoom over to a nearby fountain. The water begins to shake, and then, the ground itself begins to shake! Because Poseidon is the GOD OF EARTHQUAKES. COME ON, USE THIS SHIT!

Poseidon, pissed off, manifests from the water of the fountain, and we now see his visage in full for the first time, and it needs to be IMPOSING. He looks at the queen, and at Andromeda herself. He says that for Cassiopeia’s hubris, they are to be punished. Her child will meet one of his, the great Cetus, and then they’ll be able to compare “prowess and beauty”. This is certain death for Andromeda, obviously, and everybody knows it. This is to be done on her 20th birthday, or all of Aethiopia will fall. It’s then that Perseus steps in to defend Andromeda.

Poseidon looks at him, and says something like: “And look! As if to perfect this offering, Zeus’ bastard steps in the save the day! Well, child, do you offer yourself to me, after evading my justice for so long?” Everybody, INCLUDING PERSEUS, if totally shaken by this revelation. See, Perseus had NO IDEA that he was the child of Zeus. But he swallows his surprise, and offers himself in Andromeda’s stead. As Poseidon’s about to kill him there and then, he hears a hoot from the rafters, and sees the visage of Athena overlapping the little owl. Not comfortable with this situation, he offers a deal: if Perseus can complete a task for him, he will spare Andromeda’s life. Perseus accepts IMMEDIATELY, without hearing the task. And that task?

Kill the Gorgon Medusa, and bring her head back to Aethiopia before Andromeda is sacrificed.

Yeah, not good, and definitely unfair. Perseus isn’t exactly a warrior of any prowess, so this won’t end well for him. Poseidon laughs, and disappears into the water of the fountain. Silence befalls the hall, and all eyes turn to Perseus. Athena leaves, and flies up to her temple, angry and frustrated. She then decides that, if Poseidon is going to meddle in the affairs of the mortal world so strongly, then she will do the same. She finds Hermes, and the two start to conspire.

The next morning, Perseus heads out on the journey, although he has no idea what to do. Andromeda begs him not to do it, but he says he has little to lose. King Cepheus, humbled by Perseus’ intentions, promises whatever Perseus wants if he succeeds. Perseus states that he wants little, but will take assistance for his mother and village. It’s done. And Andromeda, to the surprise of her mother, almost offers her hand in marriage to her as well. But she stops short, still hesitant.

Perseus is about to go the distance, when a little owl catches his eye. Something tells him to follow the owl, and he does. Athena reveals herself, and Perseus is struck, not knowing what to do. She tells him to find the Greae, as they will tell him how to get to Medusa. He asks how he will get there, and Athena gives him his first divine item: Hermes’ winged sandals, loaned to him by the messenger god himself. The sandals will guide him to the location of the sisters. And Perseus accepts.

He makes his way to the sisters, the shenanigans with the eye stay about the same (it’s pretty solid in the 1981 film, not gonna lie), and from there, he finds out where to go. In the meantime, Athena’s and Perseus’ deeds are being noticed by the gods, eventually making their way to the three brothers. Poseidon is, of course, enraged at these happenings, considering them dishonorable to him, and also incensed as this is coming from Athena, a long-standing rival of his. Hades seems neutral about it. And Zeus...we’ll come back to him. Hermes, joined by Dionysus, speaks with Athena in Olympus, and delivers something to her to give to Perseus: Hades’ Helm of Darkness. He’s curiously chosen a side, but why isn’t known even to Hermes. Will that reason ever be revealed?

I have my reasons. Dionysus, also inspired by Perseus’ origins (which mirror his own as well), gives to Athena a wine-colored cloak, impervious to harm from all poisons and corrosive items. Inspired by this, Athena thinks on her history with Medusa. And, uh...remember that scream from the beginning? Yeah, Medusa’s “birth” coincides with Perseus’ conception. While Poseidon was...busy...Zeus went for Danae behind his back. And we’re going to sanitize Medusa’s origin...a little. But for Athena’s sake, specifically.

Poseidon raped Medusa. That’s a given. And Medusa was a priestess of Athena, but not a great one. Although Athena was angered at Poseidon’s actions GREATLY, the one who inevitably suffered for it was Medusa. Poisoned by Poseidon’s actions, she was transformed into her current form. And in this case, it’s not made clear whether or not Athena directly caused it...but it’s clear that Athena did nothing to stop it. This can be changed in some ways, but this is how I’m changing it for the movie. If you disagree, entirely understandable, I’m open to suggestions here.

OK, after that flashback, we see that Athena’s kind of ashamed of her actions, but not entirely. I realize that this is a stretch for Athena’s character, but this is a movie for wider audiences, so we’ll go for it. There’s a reason, I promise. Athena delivers the gifts to Perseus, which he finds once he’s left the cave of the Greae. That’s the cloak from Dionysus, the Helm of Darkness from Hades, and Athena’s offering, a mirrored shield. Perseus heads out to slay Medusa.

Poseidon, meanwhile, has his own ideas. He goes to speak with Hera, a shadow antagonist who’ll get her day later on. He persuades her to help take care of Zeus’ bastard son, and she reluctantly gives him permission to use one of her creations. What this is is left a mystery for the time being, but not for long. Perseus is busy flying with the winged sandals, and is thinking on how easy the journey has been. He’s getting a little cocky, in other words. But that’s quickly stopped when he’s blind-sided by something hitting him in the sky. He’s sent flying, and when he focuses up again, he sees what’s hit him.

YUP. HARPIES. Now, at this point, you may be saying: “365, you hypocrite! That never happened in the original story of Perseus! You sonuvabitch!” To that I say:

This is supposed to be a movie, and it’s gotta be a little exciting.

The origin of the harpies is entirely unstated, and Hera loved her some birds, so it makes sense that she would have some. In fact, I kind of want to make them women that Hera punished with this form, possibly for their association with Zeus at some point.

I’m setting something up, just trust me here.

Harpies as a concept are a familiar enemy to most audiences.

They’re cool, and an aerial battle’s even cooler here.

Perseus needs some mortal peril, because of something that’s about to happen.

OK. With that, the Harpies attack Perseus, and Perseus realizes that he doesn’t have a weapon to fight them with. He’s forced aground, on a seemingly desrted island. The Harpies fly off for now, ready to pick Perseus off later. Perseus, now stuck on the island, wanders around. At the same time, Zeus, sees this, and turns into an eagle once again. He flies off to a volcano, as an irritated Hera looks on. At the volcano, he flies into a cave, lined with veins of many metals. This is Hephaestus’ forge.

Hephaestus is another of those gods that I feel like never gets his day in court. There are many reasons for that, to be fair, but I’d like him to have a role in this story. He’s a relatively neutral god, mostly caring about his work at the anvil, moreso than anything else. I also like the idea of having him almost be a running joke in his scenes, in that he always comes up with devices far beyond their time. Like, at a certain point, he offers something for Zeus to give to Perseus, which he calls a “thunderblast”. And it’s a fucking CANNON, YEARS ahead of its time. You also see sketches for smaller versions, which are just straight up guns. But, y’know, eus will refuse that.

Speaking of that, THIS is the first time that we’ll see Zeus’ true face, lit by the light of the forge. And there are a few reasons for this, one of which being that Zeus’ casting should be a big name, and a surprise in marketing. But other than that, Zeus’ really shouldn’t have too much import in the story, outside of Perseus’ creation. However, looking at Hephaestus, who is himself a cast-out and neglected offspring of the gods, Zeus actually manages to eke out a little guilt for his actions for one. He asks Hephaestus to make something for him and Perseus. Hephaestus is hesitant, but agrees upon hearing about Perseus’ origins, because Hephaestus is ALSO HIS HALF-BROTHER...in this movie. Hephaestus’ origin has changed in different tellings, but I want him to be Zeus’ kid. So, yeah, Hephaestus agrees to make something...simple.

Perseus is on the island. There, he’s being watched by YET ANOTHER mysterious figure. Because, yeah, that’s how these people should work. See, there’s another benefactor for him that I want to bring in for various reasons. This island appears to have been inhabited at some point, but was abandoned for unknown reasons. Perseus wanders around, and stumbles upon a ruined Great Hall, open to the sky. He wanders in, nervously. But then, to his surprise, he sees a great feast before him, as a fire roars in the hearth at the end of the hall. He looks at the fire for a moment, and sees a woman tending it. But as the fire bursts, it produces a flash of light, and the woman is gone. Who was she, though?

The LEAST used and talked about goddess in all of pop culture. An unofficial/occasional Olympian, and far less popular than Dionysus, who usually takes her seat. I actually want her to have given Dionysus her seat, as she will be wandering the world, bestowing blessings on the households of those worthy mortals who honor her. To Perseus, she gives this gift, and this hall with maintain this gift in the future. This goddess is Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth and Home.

AND YES I AM AWARE OF HESTIA IN THE ANIME DANMACHA. Doesn’t goddamn count, because that obviously isn’t Hestia. The Greek goddess deserves some respect, as she’s literally the oldest of all of them, and was VERY respected in Greek culture, by LITERALLY EVERYBODY. So, yeah, Hestia’s going to appear here, ever so briefly.

The other reason for this is...well, the Harpies show up, as Perseus eats. They perch on the roof of the Great Hall, and watch him eat. He notices them, and as he reacts, they come down to take the food and attack him. Perseus realizes that the food has revitalized his weary body, and he runs. However, the Harpies prevent egress, and he still has no weapon. Until...

Thunder clashes, and lightning strikes in the middle of the Great Hall! The fire goes out, but light is coming from something in the center of the table, as Perseus and the Harpies look on. With the lightning bolt, there traveled a harpe, a type of sword, which is embedded in the table. But this is no ordinary sword, as it chines silver, almost blue in hue, as electricity arcs off of it. This is a divine sword, forged by Hephaestus on the order of Zeus himself.

But the sword is nameless...for now. Perseus uses the flashes of the sword to fend off the harpies. When one of them lunges at him, he quickly moves in response to it, and strikes it just, slicing off a wing. The other Harpies fly away in fear, but not too far. Perseus takes the opportunity, and leaves the great Hall, maybe grabbing some food on the way. Now armed, he has a way to kill Medusa, and to take her head. He heads to the island, with new purpose.

Meanwhile, in Aethiopia, the people are starting to panic. Remember when I said the city wasn’t particularly religious before? WELL THEY ARE NOW, since they’ve realized that they’ve profaned Poseidon with their arrogance. The vain Cassiopeia is now terrified, for herself rather than for her daughter. Cepheus is terrified for Andromeda, and Andromeda...well, Andromeda is putting hope in Perseus, but she is also prepared to sacrifice herself if necessary. But deep down, she doesn’t believe it will be, because she oddly believes in Perseus.

However, Cepheus won’t be able to hold off the hordes forever, It’s been nearly a week, and Andromeda is to be sacrificed soon. And if Cepheus won’t do it, the newly religious Cassiopeia and the crowd will.

Poseidon realizes that his plan with Hera’s Harpies didn’t work...perfectly. Damn, he’s still alive. Plus, the Harpies won’t get off of the island now, especially seeing that food seems to be magically appearing every night, due to Hestia’s gift. Maybe and island with magically appearing food beset by Harpies will, I dunno...come backcoughcogchJasoncoughcoughArgonautscoughcough. Nevertheless, Poseidon hatches another plan, a back-up plan to get revenge on Zeus and Perseus. He tells a nymph to “find him”. We’ll get to “him” later.

However, this is a problem for Perseus still, because he’s been thrown WAY off course from the island of Medusa. Even with the sandals, he’d be cutting it close to get back to Joppa with Medusa’s head. And that’s if he gets back with the head. Still a big if, that. In any case, he’s headed there to do what he must. He’s already faced the Greae and the Harpies, so, hey! Not too bad so far, right? Just Medusa next, and then a giant sea monster! Hahaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Well...whatever. For Andromeda, and for something else, he’s going to do it. Perseus looks at the sword, and wonders what’s up with the whole “Zeus is my dad” thing yet again, but shakes it off as he continues flying. Above him, an eagle flies. Said eagle is soon joined by an owl, and the two share a look as they follow Perseus. He’s close to the island, and Medusa’s island is prominent on the horizon, shrouded in a dark eerie fog.

Perseus lands on the island, after hovering above it for perhaps too long. This is, unsurprisingly, the same island from the beginning of the film, now in ruins. He gears up, and this includes the Helm of Darkness this time. He creeps into the temple, and is struck by surprise when he sees a Gorgon slithering next to him. OH SHIT

On first glimpse, the invisible Perseus notes that the creature is indeed monstrous, standing 6-feet tall, with snakes for her short hair and fang-like teeth protruding from her mouth. And while there are some details not actually in Greek mythology, I do like some details given in the films. Firstly, this Gorgon is armed not only with her looks and teeth, but bows and arrows, as seen as she takes an arrow, and coats in in poison dripping from her teeth.

Perseus realizes the danger that he’s in, but also doesn’t realize that this ISN’T Medusa. YUP. This is one of the Gorgons, but not Medusa. He approaches the creature, confident in his invisibility. However, he isn’t careful enough, and accidentally kicks a pebble. The Gorgon looks directly at him, into his EYES, and he’s paralyzed! But...he isn’t turned to stone, curiously. This is how he figures out that this isn’t Medusa, but simply another Gorgon. He also realizes how careless he’s being, and takes care to avert his eyes from the Gorgons and Medusa.

He gets over his paralysis eventually, then carefully makes his way to the main temple. On the way, he encounters another Gorgon, completing the trio of Gorgons present in mythology. He walks into the temple, and as he does, a door slams shut behind him. Now the Gorgons up until now have been monstrous and fairly tall women, with snakes for hair and hideous visages, but also with mostly humanoid bodies, with legs that they can walk upon. Medusa, though...Medusa’s different.

As the door closes, Perseus is clearly unnerved. The temple seems empty in front of him, but he also sees statues littered around it, clearly those of mortal men turned to stone by Medusa’s gaze. He walks carefully, and as he does, he hears a voice call out, asking who’s there. She can smell him, sense him, and he is not completely invisible to her. Perseus says nothing, as not to completely give away him position. But he is TERRIFIED, and the audience should be as well. Because we see glimpses of her throughout the temple. You ever see the new version of Disney’s The Jungle Book? Remember how they first showed Kaa?

In the same way, coils of a snake’s body are seen, slithering around Perseus, who’s looking for Medusa. All the while, a hissing voice speaks to him from the shadows. She recognizes that his patron is Athena, her former priestess. She explains her rage, both at Poseidon for what he did, and for Athena for abandoning her and condemning her to this terrible fate. She asks why he’s come, guessing that it’s to kill her. He confirms this, but upon hearing her story, expresses his doubts.

But Medusa...Medusa doesn’t really care. If this is a favored beneficiary of Athena, as she used to be, she wants him fucking DEAD. And she doesn’t care who he is, or what his mission is, or about his feelings. he’s going to turn him into stone, and display him in her collection, so that Athena can see something she loves turned into a monstrous form. And now, we see Medusa in full. And I gotta say, Harryhausen had it right. So did Warner Brothers in adapting it.

Half snake, half woman, with long, LONG snakes for hair, and a long snake body as well. She’s also surprisingly beautiful, as I actually do like the idea of keeping her beautiful, in a way to remind her of what she used to be. She’s armed not with a bow and arrow, but with a stone spear. And she’s BIG in form. Her head is still human-sized, but she was clearly a tall woman when she was human. She uses her body to rear up to terrifying heights, though, and Perseus can only see glimpses of her as she reveals herself.

She attacks him, and Perseus has to think fast. In the original myths, he gets her in his sleep. In the movies, it’s a combination of luck and mirrors. But here...here, it’s going to be different. See, we’re going with the old fallen pillar gag. Perseus enrages her, and tricks her into knocking over pillars of the temple that they’re in. She attacks with the spear, with statues thrown by her snake body, with her snake body, and also with an addition: spitting venom, like that of a spitting cobra.

But he manages to either dodge it, or block it with the corrosive proof cloak. All the while, he avoids her gaze, but his helmet is knocked off in the process. She can see him now, and that’s bad news. But only one more column needs to fall. Perseus tricks her into knocking the temple down around her, and she’s trapped in the rubble.

Perseus escapes, and the other Gorgons outside are knocked out by the debris. However, Medusa’s definitely not dead. He stumbles across her, under the rubble, and still enraged. She’s trapped now, though, and he can kill her easily. She actually asks him to, and he refuses at first. But Athene, in owl form, lands on a still standing pillar, in Medusa and Perseus’ eyeline. They see it, and they know that it’s a sign of what Perseus needs to do. Perseus closes his eyes. And he swings.

The blood washes over the sword, smoking. Now christened in an act of mercy and strength, the blue-silver turns to gold, and a name appears on the blade: Chrysaor (and yeah, I know Chrysaor was a dude, but I am TAKING CREATIVE LICENSE HERE). But Perseus is upset by this, feeling that he wasn’t a great hero at all. But Athena appears, and notes that mercy is also a quality of heroism. Something even the gods could learn (referring to herself, and her actions in reference to Medusa). He looks at her, unsure of what to think.

Not that it matters, since he’ll never get back to Aethiopia in time to save Andromeda. And then...the rubble begins to shake. Perseus arms himself, and he points the sword at the rubble, expecting to fight a Gorgon. But instead, an unexpected creature springs up from the rubble: Pegasus.

YUP. I’M STILL DOING IT! I realize that Pegasus is NOT Perseus’ mount, but he is actually linked to the myth via Medusa. So, yeah, Pegasus is born of Medusa. Perseus looks at Athena, who notes that Pegasus looks swift, and seems to be a way back. Pegasus is also pretty grateful to Perseus, as he’s technically responsible for his freedom. So, yeah...he gets ONE ride.

Perseus puts the head of Medusa in the cloak of Dionysus, and gets on Pegasus. As Perseus takes off with Pegasus and Chrysaor, Athena looks at the body of Medusa. Zeus, as the eagle, looks on, and follows Perseus to Aethiopia. Athena stays behind, and then is joined by Hermes. He notes that he’s here for Medusa’s soul, as Hades has been waiting for her soul this whole time. There’s his ulterior motive. But Athena tells Hermes that she’ll be accompanying them. She will speak to Hades.

But enough of that, because Andromeda’s set to be sacrificed! The angry mob has hit a fever pitch, and it’s day before her birthday! Cassiopeia, now fully in the cult of Poseidon with the rest, brings her daughter to the rocks to be chained up. Cepheus tries to stop this, but the mob stops him instead, imprisoning him on the command of Cassiopeia. Andromeda is also taken captive, set to be sacrificed to Poseidon to gain his favor.

Perseus gets to Aethiopia, and lands near Joppa, the capital city. Pegasus takes off, bidding goodbye to Perseus, who thanks him. Pegasus has a date with a kid named Bellerophon. And Perseus is finally feeling confident. Although, he’s not entirely sure what he’ll do when he gets there. But he’s got the head, so what could go wro-BAM!!!

He’s blindsided, with a hit to the face by a rock! And here, we get a bit of an aside from the myth to add something. See, Perseus wakes up, as he’s been out for a WHILE. As he wakes up, he sees an old man, clearly bedraggled and haggard. The man notes that he’s awake after all, and Perseus notes that he has the sword and Medusa’s head in the cloak. This old man introduces himself as an old banished king. He explains that he is there to kill Perseus, on command from Poseidon. You see, he’s been given a chance at absolution, for offending him via inaction many years ago.

The two have a heart-to-heart of sorts, about the expectations of the gods, and Perseus asks why he hasn’t killed him. The king doesn’t reveal his full reasons, those being that Perseus is, of course, his grandson. But Perseus asks him to let him live, in order to save someone with the item in the bag. Curious, the old king looks in the bag...

Stone. And thus, Acrisus’ prophesied downfall is done. Shocked and saddened by this, Perseus nevertheless takes the head, his sword, and his sandals. and takes off to save Andromeda. More time’s been lost, and Andromeda’s lost her hope in Perseus, as has everybody else. By the time he gets there, Poseidon’s released Cetus, who can look however, but I will say I think the incarnation in the 2010 movie was pretty solid. Cetus heads off to kill Andromeda, under the watch of Cassiopeia and her cult of Poseidon.

But then, Perseus shows up to present the head, and sees Cetus having arrived to devour Andromeda. Instinctively, he presents the head to Cetus, and turns him into stone (because I think that’s a cool way for him to go). Andromeda is saved, but Poseidon is PISSED THAT HIS PLAIN FAILED. He rears up from the ocean, complete with earthquake tremors, ready to kill Perseus himself. BUT ZEUS IS FUCKING DONE WITH HIS BULLSHIT.

He steps in the way of Poseidon, and screams that there’s been enough damage done! At the first full appearance of Zeus, EVERYBODY in Aethiopia reacts. While everyone bows in reverence, Cassiopeia’s so freaked out that she runs away. She’ll be leaving the city altogether, and when she does, she’s watched over by a cuckoo (or a peacock). This is Hera, and as a god of women AND OF MOTHERS...she’s going to be punishing Cassiopeia for her deeds.

Zeus and Poseidon speak, and the two come to tentative peace. This is settled in the courts of Olympus, where everybody involved comes together to speak about this affair. They note that, despite Poseidon’s petty bullshit, something unique has happened. A mortal child of a god, spurned on by their actions, has managed to outsmart and defeat countless obstacles. And now, celebrated for saving Andromeda and the city of Joppa, Perseus is celebrated. Zeus predicts that he will be made king, with Andromeda as his queen. And this pleases Zeus greatly. Poseidon, still angry, is not convinced. But Zeus directs his attention away from Perseus’ celebration, and towards one of his children: Pegasus.

A new age is now dawning in the world of man, and in the world of gods. As Pegasus flies over the oceans, he flies over an island, as Zeus narrates on the nature of this new age of heroes. And as Pegasus lands, we see the city of Corinth in the distance. The narration concludes, as we are introduced to a young man, a prince named...Bellerophon.

Cut to black.

Well...almost. There’s a mid-credits scene, where a newly crowned Perseus goes back to his island with a fleet of ships to see his mother, and bring her to Aethiopia to live happily. And then, there’s an after-credits scene, with Athena. She’s looking at the mortal word, and looking forward to this age of heroes. She sees that some divine intervention may be needed in the land of Boeotia. She asks her attendant to fetch her shield. And Medusa, saved from the Underworld by a penitent Athena, brings her the shield, Gorgoneion, now adorned with the image of Medusa’s former self, as a reminder to Athena to be merciful. And off she goes, to help another burgeoning hero: Cadmus

AND SO THE AGE OF HEROES BEGINS

Alongside a theoretical franchise, of course.

If you read this nonsense, then...wow, why? But also, thank you! Mostly for putting up with my mad ravings. I’ll be putting the the straight-up review of this film later today, but...I really needed this off my chest. Any thoughts? Any ideas? Any criticisms? Any petty insults? I’ll take it, whatever it is! THanks again for putting up with this.

See you in the ACTUAL REVIEW!!!

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onlyhereforangst · 4 years ago

Text

2020 IN WRITING

tagged by @indestinatus 💕

tagging whoever wants to go thru this journey with me & see their accomplishments in this terrible terrible year!

1. List of works published this year:

Oh god there’s a lot, like 70 total in just 2020. I’ll try to categorize them so this doesn’t get too long 😅but here’s a cut for aesthetic on your dash.

Sequels/Partner Fics: Risk It All (for @hellokaelyn), Finally Home (to Come Back), They Always Do & Could She?, Lucky Day & Completely Yours, Fiery Trance (Two Can Play series), Obsessed (Particular Taste), Soul (to Ignited)

Smut: My Turn (sequel to My Pleasure), Worth It, Maybe We Should, Make it a Double (also a fic request), Shall We (AU)

Fic Requests: Coffee Run, Hold Still, Typical, Deal, Needed It, I’m Home, For Science, Cry Me A River, From Your Dreams (AU), Crystal Clear, Tempt Me, Your Fault, Prove It, Silent Proclamation, A Hundred Suns (angst smut), Duly Noted

Stand Alones: No More, Never Let Her Go, Life is Fragile, Pandemics & Peach Drinks, To Need and Be Needed, Never Let Go, Coming Home, Priceless, Behind The Mask, Need a Hand?

Angst: My Daisy, Status Quo, Can I Stay, I Refuse, Deal

Series/Multi-chaptered: Back Off (Better Apart, Missed The Mark, Change Her Mind, But You Do, Layered Love), Electrified (Don’t Stop (Senorita)), Here By Faith, Forgive & Forget, Angstober ‘20 (Never Has & Never Will, Only In My Head, Long, Long Gone, Do Something, Take Care, Waiting to Burn, Survive the Hell, Find Her, Never Ended Well, At All Costs, One Thing Right, Stay Away, Echoed Back, Smart Man, Not Interested, Flake Again, Release, Slipping Away)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Here By Faith mainly because of the topic. Pregnancy & Infant loss has been such a taboo topic for so long and something I have personal experience with so writing this was very therapeutic.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Shall We and only because I truly wanted way more plot in this and it turned out to be essentially just straight smut with a tiny bit of plot. But it is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Ok I had 70 fics to choose from not breaking down chapters so I’m sure I’m missing something, BUT I do love - omg typing this out I realized it’s from a fic in 2019 so I can’t use iiiiiit 😩 ok so here’s a couple excerpts. I loved typing out this stream of conscious partner fics (They Always Do & Could She?):

They Always Do:

Yet this time, this time she didn’t have the chance to rebuild. Like a Trojan horse, he waltzed right up to her and slowly dismantled her defense. Joke by joke, smirk by smirk—Nick took each brick down with care. The worst part? It was so subtle, so thoughtfully done, she didn’t even notice it was happening. Didn’t see her chest being pried open, beating heart on display for him to see, and take. Never realized her greatest defenses were missing until it was too late.

That love- precious, fragile, delicate love- had managed to grow again. In her desolate, cold heart, Nick managed to bring to life an emotion she had long given up on. An emotion she was too afraid to ever feel again. Because with it came agony.

They leave, and you’re abandoned- picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.

When you love, you lose. Always.

Could She?:

But-

Even if that was love, even if he loved Ellie with his whole heart, his entire being. Was that enough? Was Nick enough? Was he deserving?

A resounding no clanged around his skull like a church bell in a Southern town on Sunday morning. He wanted to silence it, stop the shrill metal sound that started any time he pictured forever. Any time he truly thought he might deserve to love, even after all he’d done. After all the unimaginable things he’d done, the horrors he’d seen, the pain he’d caused. That bell sounded, loud and clear.

How did he deserve love when he couldn’t bear to love himself?

[...]

Could she love him despite all his misgivings? Could she love him even when he didn’t love himself? Could she love him when there was a risk he’d be taken from her too soon?

Could she?

Please love me.

But please be sure.

There’s been a couple of other inner monologues that I have absolutely loved (I like to think it’s semi my speciality? But maybe that’s super arrogant of myself?) but that’s a different post for another time.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I said it recently but I *love* when people pick out specific line(s) from my fic and choose to comment on those. More often than not it’s a line I was so proud of either prose-wise or foreshadowing-wise or whatever and I get literally giddy with excitement that someone not only noticed it but also loved it enough to comment on it 🥰but truly any kind of comment is dopamine-inducing 😉

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

As some people may have noticed (& maybe not because I did still semi-run the other main ellick blog despite it) I was somewhat absent for most of the summer/fall. I struggled for the first time in my life with mental health issues, borderline depression after being in a shit work environment, an essential worker with a company that claimed to “care” about us, a community that I once loved but showed their true colors in the midst of the pandemic & election, add in a rough pregnancy & it was a recipe for disaster. I didn’t want to even move from the couch most days let alone write.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I had a lot of fun writing short excerpts from different characters’ perspectives (Jimmy, Kasie, McGee & Gibbs) in my Angstober series & honestly wouldn’t mind doing that again!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

Honestly not sure, I think I’ve just generally grown as a writer - better descriptions & descriptors, better dialogue, better plots. But that could all be me seeing things 😂

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I’d love to look into writing more seriously. My husband is convinced I could write an episode script or a novel, so I may look into trying my hand at that (even though I feel I’d be god-awful at it 😅)

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Hmmmm I always appreciate the support I’ve gotten from the ellick fandom despite it being rough this year for us, wonderful people like @erinchristmaselvis, @thekeyboardninja, @hellokaelyn & @wanna-be-bold are always there to either hear me vent or cheer me on ☺️

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Haaaaah yes. Lots of it (but I bet you can’t tell because I only add mini snippets so have fun finding those easter eggs 😏)

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Always, always, always write for YOU. Not for anyone else, the kudos, hits, comments, none of it. Write for YOU. And I say this as a reminder to myself as well, it’s so hard to get bogged down in that dopamine-induced craze we search for in recognition but it’s so important to not externally validate yourself rather internally validate yourself on baby steps of growth & accomplishment.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

LOL how about all my WIPs? All of those stories I started forever ago that people call me out on not finishing months later when I swear they’ve forgotten about them 😬

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

Hmmmm lemme pick one from each category because I’m indecisive 😉

Sequel/Partner Fics: Lucky Day & Completely Yours (the aaaaangst)

Smut: a tie between Maybe We Should & Make it a Double

Fic Request: A Hundred Suns (because I love me some angst smut)

Stand Alones: Pandemics & Peach Drinks (hahahaha because this was in an Insider news article at the start of the pandemic hahaha so on brand #2020)

Angst: My Daisy (I looooooove this one, but also all of the angst category lol)

Series/Multi-chaptered: literally not one of these is finished and they’re all heavy angst so take your pick 😂

15. Year word count: 103,050 in 2020 which seems like so little 😅

Here’s to 2021 being the year I finish WIPs! she says knowing she’s lying

#about me #2020 in writing #fuuuuuuun #all the writing all the angst all the smut #what's new though #ellick #ncis

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gayoperatorgunclub · 4 years ago

Note

For the ultimate ship meme, Lion and Doc? I'm sorry, I'm LionDoc trash-

it’s all good!! whenever someone sends in an ask, i get an excuse to talk/write about one of my interests! really, it makes me so happy to be able to create content that people hopefully enjoy!! 💝💝💝

General:

How long will they last? - until the end of time, babey

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - it was love at first sight but then they started talking i do think it was some form of ~interest~ in one another at first sight, but then all that drama and lack of communication happened so they didn’t really allow themselves to even dream about the possibility of a relationship. HOWEVER! once lion joined rainbow and they talked their shit out like people who know how to cope, there was a period of a few months that is now referred to as The Four Months of Pining™, during which glaz did a lot of paintings where the subject (who usually bears an uncanny resemblance to doc or lion) is staring at something (or someone) longingly. he calls it his french period. when they finally get together, a LOT of money changes hands. and goes straight into sledge’s pocket (he was the only one who bet that it would take them this long). diana gets a brand new collar (handmade), bed (handmade), dish (handmade), and many new toys (some handmade, some store-bought. sledge’s craftsmanship can only get him so far)

How was their first kiss? - you know how the french are supposed to be super suave and confident??? and how gay people are trying their hardest but they’re just Not Good at things????? (i know these are stereotypes but stay with me). well, with their 5/8 french blood (i hc one of doc’s parents is fully algerian while the other is half french, half algerian), and their 4/4 gay blood, they have an 81.25% chance of success in matters of the heart. sadly, that 18.75% chance of failure came into play during this situation. picture it. doc and lion. romantic, home-cooked dinner. le festin is playing in the background. they’re holding hands over the table. suddenly, doc’s cat goes into labour. all hell breaks loose. lion is getting flashbacks to his son’s birth, so now he’s hyperventilating. doc carries him to the couch and turns on the fan so he can cool off and catch his breath, before carefully moving his cat, Rayie (arabic for gorgeous, pronounced rye-ah) to the living room in his handmade Birthing Box, then grabs a pile of blankets and a heat lamp and situates himself on the ground nearby so he can help her if she needs it. once the kittens are born (they’re twins!! Sadiqi is the boy, and Amirti is the girl!!!) doc makes sure they’re nice and warm and that Rayie is recovering, and gives her pets while she cleans her babies. once the happy family is all settled in for the night, doc walks over to the couch and just. lays down on top of lion. once he’s gotten over the adrenaline of the birth, he takes lion’s face in his hands and says “promise me you’ll be more calm if we ever decide to have kids” and gives him a BIG smooch while lion’s just short-circuiting like “does he know i have a son???? did i forget to mention my son?????? also what about these kittens??? are they not sufficiently childish to count as children????? DOES HE WANT KIDS????? does he want to marry me??????? wait why is he getting so clo-”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - lion. it was the day of their two year anniversary (yes i AM saying they got together the august after outbreak don’t @ me) and they were on vacation at doc’s family’s Secret Beach House. they were vibing on the balcony, watching the sunset, when lion suddenly clears his throat. doc turns to look at him and finds his boyfriend down on one knee, looking like he might flee to Bermuda. he’s reaching for something in his pocket. doc starts laughing. lion, completely misunderstanding his reaction, flushes and stammers out an apology. doc sees this, and immediately stops, though he’s still smiling gleefully as he catches lion by the biceps, then reaches into his own pocket and pulls the ring he was going to give olivier. they exchange rings, giggling like little kids, and spend the rest of the night making out on whatever surfaces are available.

Who is the best man/men? - for lion? montagne. (his son is the ring bearer and doc’s niece is the flower girl). for doc? rook. he’s so happy he gets to participate in his dad’s wedding

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - for lion: finka. for doc: twitch

Who did the most planning? - both of them!! do you know how hard they worked to ensure the ceremony was valid in the eyes of both of their religions

Who stressed the most? - s e e a b o v e

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - lion’s parents. they tried to call him during the reception but doc’s grandma grabbed his phone and started cussing them out, talking about dishonor and how they tried to disown him so they’re not his parents anymore, and besides, his new family absolutely adores him, so really, it’s their loss. once she hangs up, she pulls lion into a hug and he calls her his favorite, if only, grand-mère

Sex:

Who is on top? - who’s topping? lion. but sometimes doc gets bitchy so he gets to set the pace if you know what i mean

Who is the one to instigate things? - they are both lowkey horny 24/7 so 👀👀👀

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (only because they do get to see each other fairly often. if one goes on a long mission without the other, once they get back they will bump it up to a 10 real quick)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - idk long enough ig. maybe longer if someone feels they’ve been left ~unsatisfied~ they might go a few more rounds ;))

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - ok it depends on what they’re doing but usually it’s one or two each, but on ~special~ occasions it’s either doc getting edged and denied for hours, OR doc getting forced to come over and over again until he’s begging for something, whether it be more or a goddamn break even he isn’t really sure. either way he’s crying and lion is consistently asking if he needs to safeword and otherwise checking in because they may like it rough but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - unless someone’s hormones and organs get fucked, zero

How many children will they adopt? - probably none?? idk they’ve already got lion’s son and they’re both busy enough with work so

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - NEITHER!!!!! DISGUSTANG!!!!!!!!!

Who is the stricter parent? - god i wanna say both. like lion and his attachment to rules??? but doc and his Mom Friend energy????? but ig lion BUT HE’S NOT STRICT TO THE POINT HE’S A BUZZKILL OR ANYTHING HE’S JUST RESPONSIBLE (he will NOT allow his husband and son to go vandalize the property of some islamaphobic brits, as much as he agrees with the sentiment)

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - doc will only allow vandalism if it’s in the name of righteousness. meaning, he’ll allow their son to spray paint the walls of a goddamn walmart with shit like “eat the rich” and a portrait of robespierre and a guillotine, but it is a HARD NO on defacing places like the library or community center (unless he has a good reason to do so). lion spends his time praying and making sure his son knows which acts of civil disobedience are acceptable and which are distorting their goal

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - doc. he (privately) dreams of retiring (eventually) and living out his lifelong dreams of being a househusband. so

Who is the more loved parent? - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS. but ig lion??? BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEIR SON HAS KNOWN HIM LONGER. doc is half Dad and half Cool Uncle Who Gives Me Spray Paint And Tells Me To Make Myself Heard (to clarify, i know doc is a pacifist, but im kinda projecting my own sentiment of “we’ve tried to be peaceful but you wouldn’t give us the time of day. now that we’ve “acted out” we’ve gotten your attention, and rest assured, things are going to change.” he won’t hurt anybody, he’s just tired of having to be everyone’s “muslim friend” and educating people on things they could google themselves)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it used to be lion out of necessity, but when people started asking about his “wife” he was really torn between telling them that he and his son’s mother separated, but now he has a partner and his son seems very happy about it. when doc finally attends a meeting with lion, people really struggle to hide their shock. a few clunky but well-meaning “we support you”’s and “we’re sorry for everything that’s been going on”’s later, doc has used his charm to make friends with literally everyone. from then on, he is on pta duty on behalf of lion and his ex

Who cried the most at graduation? - lion! his parents purposefully didn’t show at his, so it’s a big deal for him to show his son just how proud he is. doc tears up a little too, but manages to mostly keep it together so he can support lion, who spends most of the day heave-crying about how proud he is into his husband’s shoulder. gustave just pats him on the back and tells him that they’ll run out of donuts if they don’t get to the concession stand soon

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - doc. civil disobedience, baby!! he has never been caught. lion fears the law after his youth, so he tries to avoid any visits to law enforcement. he also can’t stand to see his son behind bars

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - doc. househusband, remember?

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - doc, but only because he can be a bit of a spice supremacist. he has to get his ingredients from these very specific farms and markets or else his great grandmother will begin manifesting in their house to curse them

Who does the grocery shopping? - doc, bc he does NOT trust lion to not just sweep all of the microwave ramen and kraft mac n cheese into the cart then sprint to self-checkout

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever possible. doc and maestro live by the philosophy “don’t do anything halfway” if they’re going to go through the trouble of making a meal, it will have multiple courses.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - doc is more of a salad eater but only for ease of consumption with halal laws. he adores filet mignon

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - lion! maestro enlists himself as assistant head chef after walking into the base’s kitchen one day to find lion covered in flour and lying facedown on the floor, crying

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also lion! though he’s memorized doc’s order at all of their favorite restaurants, so he usually just gets take out and puts on a big show of being a “tired housewife who works in the kitchen all day just for this one meal” and setting up the table so it’s all nice and romantic

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - lion. he tried crème brûlée once. never again

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - lion. organization is everything to this man. doc helps with laundry and such, but for the most part he leaves organization to lion and his systems (think leslie knope levels of planning and organization)

Who is really against chores? - neither! they both understand that teamwork makes the dream work, baby!!

Who cleans up after the pets? - doc, since lion’s already asked him which color hanger should represent “clothes i can tear off my husband before we fuck” and he needs a Moment

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither. they don’t own a broom

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - lion because of the deep-seated catholic urge to appear perfect in front of others, and doc because people will gossip, olivier!

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - lion. he immediately called doc into the room and asked “is this your stash of drug money?” doc, who had been asleep because it was 3 in the morning on a saturday, just stares at him

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - it is so bold to assume they don’t shower together to “cut costs”

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - lion is known in their neighborhood as the man who walks cats. there is a facebook page where people post pictures of him walking his cats. vigil is an admin

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - LITERALLY EVERY HOLIDAY GETS DECORATIONS. lion makes his own for the muslim holidays since there really aren’t many “of good quality” in stores. when they first started dating, doc came home to find his house covered in ramadan decorations, and lion standing precariously on a ladder, trying to string up fairy lights while learning how to pronounce important arabic words. needless to say, doc cries

What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual joy and contentment!!!!

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - doc. he’s sleepy

Who plays the most pranks? - lion, but they’re stupid ones like replacing certain pictures with danny devito. doc gets back at him by replacing pictures of jesus with ewan mcgregor, and putting yoda into his nativity scene. lion doesn’t notice

#ask #anonymous #r6s doc #r6s lion #doc/lion #ass alert!#could you tell i forgot whether or not lion's ex and son had names #thank you for interacting!

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ikesenhell · 5 years ago

Text

An Ode to Someone I Once Knew

You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine on my page under the Masterlists! NOTES: Wow, let me just whip up some angst real quick for yall. Sorry that I’m constantly doing our boy Shingen dirty. Somehow, everything I write for him I honestly love.

This is one part fix-it for his route (because I feel like he was shortchanged SO HARD by his route, let’s be honest, I think he deserved better) and another part just blatantly attempting to hurt you all. Sorry? TW Angst, TW major character death.

---

Once, when her staying was less voluntary and more ‘voluntold’, she’d started on a poem. The pen in her purse was still good. From time to time, she dripped water into the ink just to make sure it stayed liquid; writing with a brush was still too difficult. The tiny notebook that used to hold grocery lists was now a therapist.

A seasoned poet, she was not. That was fine. No one would read it. It was just whatever felt right, mostly stream of consciousness: the bone deep fear Kenshin inspired, the agonizing loneliness, the uncertainty and helplessness of living in a world so removed from your own. It distracted from the ever-evolving timeframe of ‘homeward bound’.

More or less everyone had their own segment. Yukimura’s was short (the good thing about him was he was so clear cut that anything she wrote was the same); Sasuke’s, warm and friendly; Yoshimoto’s, elegant and difficult to pin down.

Speaking of difficult to pin down…

Even after the first month (and being kidnapped by his own people, and constantly visited, and negotiating boundary after boundary after fractional boundary with him), she couldn’t figure Shingen out. She assumed at first that the one among them most like the moon would be Yoshimoto. Oh, no. That was Shingen. He wore a thousand masks, each like a crescent or a waxing or a waning or a half moon, and even when he seemed most unobscured she wasn’t certain she had the whole picture. It was like viewing a man from a thousand miles away; she, earthbound, and he, out there in the heavens, visible but blurry all the same. She half-started on a poem, stopped, stared out into the dark, and absently titled it An Ode to Someone I Once Knew before a single sentence was fully formed.

No doubt she would only get perspective on him once she was safely home.

---

Another Full Moon for him: more clarity she couldn’t quite take at its face. She wandered across the stables and discovered him inside, holding the reins of a wild-eyed stallion and delivering calm instructions to a stressed-out Yukimura.

“You shouldn’t be handling him,” Yuki scolded, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I can do it.”

“I have it.” Shingen’s voice betrayed nothing; the horse reared powerfully and he snapped around, wrapped the rope around his hand, forced it back into place. “Do you think I haven’t done this a thousand times?”

Yuki opened his mouth to say something, spotted her, and closed it again. “Oi, Boar Woman. You should stay back.”

“I planned on it.”

“Goddess,” Shingen called smoothly, a grin sliding onto his lips. There it was; that lunar mask, constantly shifting. “Good morning.”

“Focus on the horse! Hells!” The younger man gripped at his own hair like it might help.

“It’s fine.” And Shingen finally turned back to focus on the animal. Sure hands slid up the rope, coming ever closer to its muzzle. It bucked and jerked and she could see the veins in his shoulder stand out, but he didn't budge. “Yuki, I need you to step back.”

“But--”

“Yukimura.”

That was a command if ever she’d heard one; and she never had, not from him. Yukimura stepped obediently backward, shoulder to shoulder with her, furling and unfurling his hands for a measure of control. Shingen straightened up (was he slouching all this time? He looked seven feet tall now), wound another handful of rope into his grasp, and came hand to nose with the stallion.

“Hush, now.” He breathed, and lay his fingers on its nose. His other hand waved a slow path near its eyes. “I’m right here. You can see me. You can smell me. I won’t hurt you.”

“Does he know what he’s doing?” She whispered to Yuki. Yuki, even rocking back and forth between his feet from stress, huffed a laugh.

“Yeah. He’s an expert. Watch.”

The horse didn't rear. It huffed, tried to back into the wall. Shingen coaxed it forward from the stall and into the sunlight, turning it around and around in the paddock. Those frightened eyes softened, blinked, its head lowered, and finally the strained walk turned into a peaceful, slow gait. Shingen smiled and pet its nose thoughtfully.

There it was. The briefest moment of a full moon, the clarity of a telescope, the breathlessness of walking on its surface and glimpsing it in true color. He looked more honest stroking the stallion’s mane than she’d ever seen before; a man at home in his own galaxy and unobscured by clouds.

“Told you,” he laughed, and flashed Yukimura a charming, boyish grin.

“I didn't doubt you could do it,” he snapped back. “Just…”

And it was gone. The men fell silent, the weight of something they didn't trust to her hanging between them.

---

Kenshin, in time, grew used enough to her presence to leverage her when he was bored. She learned the pattern of his unease: first he picked a fight with Shingen, then Yoshimoto, then Sasuke, and when inevitably both Sasuke and Yukimura excused themselves on some nonsense errand or another, he at last turned to her. The first five times, he made her drink with him, or waxed poetic about his sword.

This time he took her to the armory. Row upon row of naginata and polearms and spears and swords rest in their racks, polished to a fine edge. The instruments of war made her nauseous. Still, Kenshin looked so content and pleased that she didn't say that. She picked politely around the rows and asked questions, focused on learning as much as she could from the God of War himself. It was an opportunity few could boast.

“And what about that one?” She pointed to the largest of the bunch. Maybe in Europe it passed as a claymore. It was a monstrous blade in a beautiful crimson sheath, wrapped in golden ties and balanced in its own rack. Kenshin eyed it.

“That would be Shingen’s.”

“That thing is massive.”

“He’s very big.” Kenshin wrinkled his nose with distaste. All at once she remembered the legend that he’d had to have his own swords shortened--and noticed at the same time that he was barely taller than her. She hadn’t thought to mentally gauge the gap in their heights before now. “And dramatic.”

Dramatic? Coming from Kenshin? She laughed and managed to disguise it as a cough when he cast a curious glance her way. “I guess.”

Kenshin nodded slowly at the sword--as if it might tell him something, as if it had something to glean from that artistic sheath. He seemed tense, pensive, and she almost asked why--but the best students learned from what their teachers saw, right? So she followed his gaze once more, fully soaking in the sight until it unsettled her.

---

“You’re the kind of man that brings everything onto his shoulders, aren’t you?”

Shingen blinked. She almost patted herself on the back. For the last month, he’d visited her near-nightly in her chambers, constantly talking in circles around her questions and gathering whatever he thought he needed from her (god only knew what that was). She’d never seen him caught off guard before. It felt very much like Christine ripping the mask from the Phantom of the Opera, though she was less certain what she saw underneath. He schooled his expression.

“Why do you ask?”

Valuable opportunities like this didn't come along often with him. She mulled over her words, inspected the shaft of moonlight lancing along the floor. He wore new sandals with crimson trim, his legs folded perfectly under his kimono, the broad plane of his chest rakishly visible. His heart beat faster than most. She’d noticed that a while ago. His pulse was visible in his collarbone, but only when he turned ever so slightly and bared it further.

“Your sword,” she said at last. “It’s like you.”

He lifted a brow, mouth still a pensive line. She half-expected him to summon a deflecting smile and was surprised when he didn't. “How so?”

People don’t pick the biggest blade for no reason. You could manipulate a shorter katana faster. You already have reach. You’re trying to keep people away, but you’re strong, so why? She dug her fingers into the crook of her knees, frustrated, reaching for the sentences she felt and couldn’t match words to, struggling to bring that visible moon into focus and stay there.

“It just…” She sighed. “I don’t know how to phrase it. Would you just answer the question?”

No grin appeared. He just stared, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time he looked lost.

“I suppose any good daimyo does,” Shingen finally answered, diplomatic as ever. “If you really care about your people, you do everything you can for them--even if it takes blood, sweat, tears, and your whole heart.”

The picture remained blurry. She wanted to groan with frustration and shake him, demand answers to a question she didn't know. But that was all she could get. It had to be enough for now. Reluctantly, she stared out into the night sky, at all of the stars she never saw in the 21st century.

“Why do you ask?” Shingen pressed. The same tête-à-tête, back to haunt her. “It’s such a specific question. I’m curious, my goddess.”

He hadn’t stopped looking at her. Why? It was exhausting, the back-and-forth; it made her wonder why she’d named the poem about him (that she hadn’t even started to write) An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. Why did her heart insist that was the right title? She didn't even know him.

“Because,” she said softly, too tired of the fight to keep at it, “Sometimes I feel like I see you. Not the front you put up; something honest. Something real. Something that made Yuki want to follow you and your friends love you, not the…” And she waved a hand in front of her face, “the mask you do.”

Shingen inhaled quietly. She could feel his presence at her shoulder, like he shifted her tides with the gravity he commanded. “Why would you want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know you? Don’t you come in here every night? Why shouldn’t I at least want to...” Goddamn words! She sighed. “Don’t you want people to know who you are?”

He could’ve referenced their bet, the one where he would make her smile. He could’ve made some oblique reference to trying to bed her, or slipped from the conversation with the same easy grace he wielded as effortlessly as that massive sword. And yet--yet he just reached out and took her hand. She flinched.

“Sorry.” Shingen squeezed her fingers, the gentle pressure easing her shock. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

“You’re okay.” She allowed, noticing that the hammer of her heart matched the beat of his own pulse. “Why did you do that?”

Finally he granted her a smile. It was nothing like his usual. This one was sad, bittersweet, sincere. It was the look of a man who’d made up his mind, and for once, she remembered that he wasn’t a planet at all, not an asteroid, not anything in the solar system, just flesh and blood and bone and breath. The distance between them was not thousands of miles, but scant inches, inches that could be crossed. So she did. She scooted herself over to his hip. Shingen blinked with surprise.

“Careful,” she tittered despite herself. “If you keep looking shocked by the things I do, I’ll start getting a big head and think I’m clever.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I dunno, am I, mister ‘I have a super cool spy network and am notoriously smart’ man?”

Laughter rumbled in his throat. She dragged the hand that held hers into her lap, leaned her head against his shoulder, listened to his arrhythmic pulse. Solid warmth caressed her hair.

“Your heartbeat is off.”

Shingen paused entirely too long. “Is it?”

“Mhm.” She tapped out the pattern on the floor with her free hand. “It sounds like that.”

“Odd,” he remarked, and she knew he already knew.

---

He asked her to come to the stables the next day, and when she arrived, he was already saddling up a sweet black mare.

“Morning, Goddess.” Shingen grinned at her, all of his vulnerability erased in the light of day. “Do you know how to ride?”

“Not at all.”

“Not at all?”

The urge to say ‘horses are for rich people’ bubbled into her throat, but she bit it back. “Where I’m from, most people don’t have horses.”

“What a pity.” He guided the horse from the stall. Wait--weren’t the Takeda known for their cavalry? It made sense now. “Come on. Let me show you how.”

She accepted his boost into the saddle, his hands steady around her waist and the motion effortless. As soon as she went to swing her other leg over, Shingen cast her a bemused stare. “You’re wearing a kimono, Princess.”

“So…” Wrinkling her nose, she wriggled into a more comfortable position. “So I have to ride side-saddle, huh?”

“As princesses do.” Shingen shot her a smile, and for once the title didn't sound condescending. It felt like he meant it. “But you’ll be alright. There’s nothing you’ll have to do that you can’t do that way, and I assume if it became a matter of life or death, the state of your clothes will matter less--and that you’d quickly discover how to handle it. Come on.”

He guided her out into the courtyard, the sunlight beating down on the back of his neck and his shoulders, his hands firm around the reigns. Unbidden, she considered that he wasn’t teaching her how to ride for practicality.

“Shingen?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sharing something with me?”

He looked back, sincere and open, his expression unguarded and handsome and regal, and answered, “You wanted to know who I am.”

In great moments of your life, it is impossible to pinpoint them at the time, bookmark them and commit them to perfect memory. It was only in retrospect she realized this was when she truly, completely, and utterly fell.

---

They were headed to war, and she knew it. Kasugayama was a hive of activity. Shingen was largely absent from their nightly visits in the days leading up, the space in front of her screen empty and lonesome. She missed the tempo of his heartbeat. She missed the familiar rhythms of his voice.

God, she missed him.

She sat in front of the half-moon with her pen poised, the page of her notebook open to the poem she knew would write itself about him, wordless and quiet. Her soul sat still under the night canopy. She only half-knew him, really, and what she’d seen so far--

When he arrived at her room the next morning, a smile on his lips, her heart beat harder than ever before.

“Care to come out with me?”

“Where to?”

“Just a ride out. Nothing special. I simply thought you might want a brief outing before I leave for battle.”

They saddled up and headed down the city streets, out into the cool day. Echigo was mountainous, snow capped peaks in the distance wreathed in fog and vanishing into clouds. Wind stole away her breath. Sunlight warmed her fingers and face, a gentle reprieve. Around the twisting pathways they went, wild formation of rock and sky their only company until they reached a small lake.

“Here.” Shingen dismounted easily, offering a hand to her. “Let’s rest a while.”

She stripped off her geta and tabi socks, ignoring the laughter in his eyes, hitched up the edge of her kimono, and stepped into the still waters. It was freezing. Even so she wriggled her toes, relishing the feeling. Shingen sat heavily on the bank.

“Having fun, Princess?”

“I like water,” she announced simply. “I don’t know why. Always have. I used to live near the coast and I would go to the ocean all times of the year, even in the dead of winter, and walk through the surf. It calms me.”

“I wish I’d known that. I would’ve brought you out here sooner.”

She straightened up and offered a hand to him. “You could join me.”

A thousand thoughts marched across his features before they calmed again. “Ah, I’ll have to pass, unfortunately. Thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

For all the progress they’d made with each other, there was still something between them. Shingen fell silent, his gaze sliding upward to the sky, his picture-perfect posture a shield between himself and her questions. With a sigh, she waved it off. “Nevermind.”

“I…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s bothering you.”

“You have secrets, you don’t have to tell me.” Almost as soon as she said that, she walked it back with, “Health problems, right?”

Shingen stared. “Yes.”

“Is it some kind of heart thing?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“Okay.” Sloshing free from the water, she shook out her toes and flopped onto the grass beside him. “Something that messes with your pulse, at least.”

A pause. “Yes.”

Whatever it was felt obvious, but she still couldn’t pinpoint it. Frowning, she instructed, “Take a deep breath for me.”

“I can’t.”

“Just one, plea--”

Oh.

She halted mid-sentence, his impassive expression confirmation. Uncertainly, she scooted closer, her hand pressing to his chest. There it was. She could feel the staccato rise and fall under her fingers.

“It’s that bad?” She asked, her voice softer than she meant.

Shingen wrapped his hand around hers. “Bad enough. But I manage.”

An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. The title of the poem meant for him came back to her. It was like the muse knew well before she did, like it was the eulogy to a funeral not far off. If war or disease or famine didn't take him, his own body would, and faster than all the others. All the air in her lungs yearned to fill his.

No amount of breath filled the void of space, did it?

Shingen checked her chin lightly with his hand. “Don’t look so sad. I get that expression from Yuki enough for this lifetime.”

“There’s nothing to be done?” She asked.

After an eternity of silence, he responded, “No.”

There it was.The horse master himself wasn’t holding the reigns, and he knew it. Everything swam into perfect clarity. No wonder she’d barely known him. What was the point in it when you’d just leave them behind? He was already halfway around the bend, a smile on his face and the wind in his hair, and there was never any promise he’d still be there when she caught up…

Her knuckles were white. She realized that now; she’d clenched hard into the silk of his shirt, his hand still wrapped over top, eyes trained on hers. Bitterly, she spat, “This really isn’t fair.”

Shingen chuckled dryly. “What isn’t fair about it to you?”

“That I just now get to--” Goddamnit, now was not the time to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut. “That I just now--I’m just getting to really know you, and I like what I’ve seen, and--”

He wasn’t rock and sky and space; he was flesh and bone and blood and so very little breath after all, only inches separating them, and then there was no separation at all. His hand was the gentlest pillow on the back of her head, her hand on his chest still cushioned in his, the mouth that teased and danced and infuriated her in equal measure over the weeks now on hers. The universe was an unfair place; his lips were so, so gentle and warm. Shingen drew away and she followed, chasing his breath with hers.

“Come back here and kiss me more,” she hissed, and he laughed.

“I am here,” he answered tenderly, and for once she believed him.

---

She never said she loved him. He never said it either; it hung between them like a wedding veil, never to be lifted, the final vows never spoken. But oh, he made sure she knew it. Her body memorized the sharp edge of his hips against the underside of her thigh, how one of his hands so easily gripped both of hers, how he worshipped her so slowly and silently and steadily. The closest they ever came to saying it aloud was the night before battle, wrapped together in his tent under a mountain of warm blankets to stay the cold. He took her hand and pressed it to his heart.

“All for you and Kai,” he said, and it took all of her composure not to burst into tears.

By the end of the week, victory and Kai was theirs.

By the end of the month, he was dead.

---

Tsutsujigasaki fell silent. Who else could fill it but Shingen? She sat in the courtyard hugging her knees at night, watching the moon play over her toes and wondering why it waxed and waned without him beside her. Yukimura and Yoshimoto filled the role of daimyo in the aching gulf. It was so often just the three of them in the mornings, both of them silent and heavy with unshed tears.

“You know,” Yuki started on one of those days, clearing his throat to get the grit from it, “You probably could help me with some of this stuff.”

Coming from Yuki, it sounded like an insult. She knew better by now. He was asking for help. She shrugged. “I don’t know most of the ins and outs like you do, much less Kai.”

“You’ll learn it.” He answered.

“Besides, the trick to Kai is simple,” Yoshimoto joined in quietly, his voice swallowed in the high ceilings. “It’s just Shingen.”

He was right. Even as she busied herself learning its streets, the hardworking people and their humble buildings, she saw Shingen reflected. The wind was his lungs, the town his heart, Tsutsujigasaki his sheltering arms. More and more of the governing work came her way; she buried herself in documents and correspondence and treaties and reconstruction and economic efforts. Kai even shared his generous spirit. The more she gave of herself to them, the more the people gave back to her. Word apparently spread quickly; they began to refer to her as the Lady Takeda.

“You should take the role,” Yoshimoto said one day.

“What?”

Sometimes it hurt to meet his gaze. Yoshimoto looked almost nothing like his cousin--except for those eyes. They had the same earthy eyes, bright and warm and all-seeing, charming and cunning and disarming. Now she buried herself there. It felt like the only part of Shingen she had left.

“The role of the Lady Takeda,” he answered smoothly. “You’d do beautifully.”

“But…” She hesitated, words stuck in her throat, and looked helplessly at Yuki. The other man shrugged.

“I have Shinano,” Yuki pointed out. “I mean, my older brother kinda has it, but…” The unspoken lingered. No doubt he wanted to go home. It was all Shingen wanted, too.

“I’d be here to support you with administrative work,” Yoshimoto offered. “If you would have the Imagawa, that is. I would be happy to support the Lady Takeda.”

“Wouldn’t,” she stuttered over her words, grasping for thoughts that knew the right words and didn't want to speak them aloud, “I would--Shingen would’ve had to marry me. I’m not the Lady Takeda.”

Yuki and Yoshimoto exchanged glances.

“Pretty sure he would’ve,” Yuki looked embarrassed. “Pretty sure he would’ve. In my book, you pretty much are.”

---

The ink in her pen was dry.

That was alright. She’d grown used to writing with a brush by now; enough documents passed over her desk that she’d worked it out. That, and Yoshimoto was more than happy to educate her (and wax poetic) on the finer points of calligraphy. She spent countless nights bent over a desk made for Shingen’s height that she couldn’t bring herself to replace, going to sleep under the pile of blankets from their last night together under the watchful light of the moon. Even years on, she could still smell him on the fabric.

Kai flourished again. She grew to love it the way she imagined Shingen had; the rumble of hoofbeats echoing in her heart, the fall turning her whole world into shades of orange and maroon and gold and crimson. He existed everywhere then. When the wind tornadoed the leaves around her, she swore that was his spirit reminding her he was still there.

She found her old notebook many years later, the dried out pen still stuck in that page she’d never finished. An Ode to Someone I Once Knew. Tracing the words with her thumb, she settled in front of her open screen, the full moon overhead spilling like a lantern onto a fresh page.

Mixing the ink the way Yoshimoto taught her, she pulled out a fresh leaf of paper and started on a new poem. At the top, she wrote: An Ode to Someone I Will Always Love.

#ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku #my writing #an ode to someone i once knew #angst #tw death #death tw #tw: major character death #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #tw major character death

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hunter-the-sad-skeleton · 4 years ago

Photo

So Helluva Boss Episode five dropped and I decided to write. May continue this, who knows. Enjoy!(Reblog if ya enjoyed reading this! :D)

“The Harvest Moon Festival,” Skip read from his phone. “Is a festival that takes place in the circle of Wrath every year to celebrate the harvest with Prince Stolas cursing the locals with the glow of the true Harvest Moon.” Skip hummed.

“It’s a lot more than that, hon!” Millie grinned. “I can’t wait to introduce ya to my folks! They’re gonna love ya!....Maybe!...We’ll see!” Millie smiled.

Skip grimaced, pulling his legs to his chest, tail thumping against his seat anxiously. “Dad, do I have to go…?” Skip asked Blitzø anxiously.

“Now, Skip, this’ll be a fun experience for ya! You need to get out more anyway! Maybe you’ll make some new friends here!” Blitzø smiled.

Skip sighed. “Maybe even someone more than a friend~!” Blitzø winked.

“DAD!!!” Skip squeaked, discomfort evident.

“Kidding, kidding!” He chuckled.

Millie grinned excitedly as a sign came into view. “Rough and tumbleweed ranch.”. Skip chuckled to himself at the pun.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, if they made a pun like that, maybe he’d get along well with them.

...It took him all of five minutes to not feel comfortable around them. He didn’t voice this fact, that would be rude, but the mention of “An Imp is only worth a dime if he can tear the head off a beast” made him feel uncomfortable.

“Guys, come on, lighten up!” Millie smiled shakily.

“I-I can go…” Skip said shakily.

“Wait!” Millie called, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Ma, pa, meet Skip! He’s Blitzø’s adopted son!” Millie introduced.

“H-How d’ya do…?” Skip asked shakily.

“Hm. Doesn’t carry himself well.” Joe shrugged.

Skip internally cringed and curled into himself, internally screaming at himself to just run off, run away and never come back.

“I suppose y’all should meet our newest help.” Joe said. Skip tilted his head in confusion. “STRIKER!” He called, Skip jumping at the sudden volume increase.

Skip heard the sound of thundering hooves and...flames…? He immediately perked up, knowing what it was right off the bat. What he DIDN’T know, however, was the absolute SIZE of the beast.

He could only see up to around his belly without looking up. Then came a voice, Silky as high quality curtains and smooth as freshly melted butter.

“Howdy~!” He greeted.

Skip’s jaw hung loose as he took everything in.

“Is your, uh, friend okay?” Lyn asked.

“Hold on, I can check.” Millie said. “Skip? You alright, hon?” Millie asked.

The rider’s gaze drifted down to Skip. Skip now wished he could spin off into space, never to be seen again. He began nervously messing with his tail.

“Skip, huh? Nice name.” Striker smiled.

Skip processed everything for a moment, eventually snapping out of it. Oh Lucifer be merciful, he started accidentally infodumping about Hell Horses that he learned around when he was six-ish, since he took to teaching himself.

It took him about thirty minutes before he realized he was infodumping and he stopped, face heating up in embarrassment.

“Sorry, that was weird.” Skip coughed.

“Huh, never knew someone liked Hell Horses that much.” Striker chuckled.

Skip wringed his tail nervously. He internally screamed at himself. He’d embarrassed himself again, in front of everyone.

“I-I’ll go, uh...do...something away from here…” Skip trailed off, turning around.

“Shame, I was gonna see if ya wanted to pet him maybe.” Striker shrugged.

Skip’s heart skipped a beat. He’d embarrassed himself in front of everyone else, and yet he was being offered pets for a Hell Horse? “I-If you’re okay with it, s-sure!” Skip squeaked. Striker chuckled, gesturing for Skip to come closer.

Skip slowly walked over, freezing when he looked at him. “I...don’t think he likes me.” Skip gulped nervously.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Striker smiled.

“He looks like he wants to kill me.” Skip added.

“That means he likes ya!” Striker beamed. “He thinks you’re worth killing and hiding!” Striker joked.

Skip’s heart stopped. “Um...Good Horsey…?” Skip said, gently patting the tall animal.

Striker laughed. “That he is, Tiny!”

Skip slowly smiled. “He’s really soft…”

Skip’s tail slowly started swishing back and forth in happiness. “How did ya know all that about Hell Horses, Tiny?” Striker asked.

Skip froze, collecting himself quickly. “I had a, uh, Hell Horse G-I had a Hell Horse phase.” Skip corrected swiftly, smiling and hoping that Striker didn’t notice the slip-up.

Either he didn’t notice, or he did but just didn’t care. “Ah.” He nodded.

“Y’all should consider entering the pain games! It could be fun!” Lyn suggested. Skip perked up at the mention of games.

As they began to describe them, Skip lost interest and wandered off elsewhere.

(With Skip)

Skip wandered through the open fields, drifting off and spacing out and getting lost in his thoughts.

He thought over the events that had happened so far. He’d asked his dad if he could stay behind, but he ultimately got forced to go.

He embarrassed himself in front of everyone on multiple occasions.

But he met a Hell Horse, so that was good. He also met Striker. That was also good.

When Skip thought of Striker, he felt...Happy. He felt warm, fuzzy, happy, at peace, calm, almost in-he stopped himself. No. He wouldn’t let his dad be right. He refused. Even if Skip wanted to know what hugs from him felt like-no. Skip threw the thought away.

He wouldn’t.

He COULDN’T.

Love had hurt him so many times in the past, why would now be any different?

He eventually found a clearing and sat down, letting his thoughts settle.

He couldn’t let his dad be right...But why? Why was this such a bad thing?

Why did he let one bad experience dictate his view of such a widely celebrated thing?

Why did he find himself hating himself for allowing such good feelings into his heart?

Why did he not want this to be true? Why did he renounce such feelings? Why did he never want to be in a relationship ever again?

Why did he find himself so in lo-Why did he find himself so attached to Striker?

Why did he want to spend more time with Striker? Why did he want to know more about him?

Was it the Hell Horse? The thrill of finding someone else with his same interests? The potential for a new start?

The chance to find a Millie to his Moxxie? The chance to, Lucifer forbid, finally fall for someone in such a way that he would bare his soul to another party?

The fact that, despite having just met him, Skip would enjoy spending more time with Striker?

He had been so spaced out that he didn’t hear hoofsteps coming his way. “Got ‘nough room for one more?” Striker asked.

Skip nodded, still slightly spaced out.

Striker climbed down from his mount, sitting next to Skip. “Ya know, I didn’t find ya weird back there.” He sighed.

Skip snapped out of it as he realized who had sat next to him and his face heated up.

“Y’alright, Tiny?” Striker asked, half smiling at the smaller imp.

“Fi-ye-yeah, fine!” Skip chuckled shyly, wringing his tail again. “Um, uh….sorry for, uh, running away back there…” Skip apologized.

Striker scoffed, shrugging it off. “Your dad said ya have anxiety, so I don’t hold it against ya.” Striker shrugged.

Skip shuffled his feet nervously. “Still sorry, I, uh, unloaded a lot…” Skip stammered. As Skip spiralled, Striker rolled his eyes, giving the smaller imp a quick peck on the cheek, shutting him up immediately.

“Stop apologizing so dang much.” Striker smirked.

Skip’s face was now a bright crimson red and his brain was now basically tv static. Was this...what it was supposed to feel like?

Striker chuckled, leaning back. “You’re a great guy to be around, ya know?” He complimented.

Skip was now pure crimson and trying to hide in his hoodie. Lucifer, please come riding in a flying chariot pulled by flying pigs wearing togas made from clouds and take him away from this night-no, he couldn’t call it a nightmare. He...Enjoyed it.

“Thank you…~” Skip mumbled.

Striker put an arm across Skip’s shoulders. “Ain’t nothing, Tiny.” He smirked.

Skip stumbled for words, still caught off guard by the sign of affection from the farmhand. It was too good to be true. It HAD TO BE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE.

His dad COULDN’T be right.

“Got anything ya wanna tell me, Tiny?” Striker asked, almost as if he could read Skip’s mind.

Skip stammered, struggling to find words to say. Skip’s heart froze as he was pulled closer to Striker. “I’m all ears, Pumpkin~” He hummed softly.

Skip struggled to find words, but was shut up as he was given another quick peck on the cheek. “You’re so easy to read, Tiny~!” Striker hummed.

“I...You...Uh….” Skip stammered.

“Sure ya don’t have anything to tell me, Tiny~?” Striker repeated.

“I….I just don’t wanna get hurt again.” Skip said nervously, breaking eye contact.

Striker hummed, tilting Skip’s chin up and making eye contact. “Come now, Tiny~! Would I ever hurtcha~?” Striker asked innocently.

Skip’s mouth flapped open and shut multiple times. He couldn’t think of any words. “I…” Skip trailed off.

Striker pulled the tiny imp into his lap, putting his head on top of Skip’s. Skip’s tail swished happily. “Called it.” Striker smiled.

“Huh?” Skip asked.

Striker smirked, rubbing Skip’s horns, earning a contented sigh from the smaller Imp. “You’re in love, huh?” Striker hummed.

“N-No!” Skip protested.

“Then why’s your face so red, Tiny~?” He hummed, sending chills down Skip’s spine.

“I...Um…” Skip stuttered.

Striker rubbed Skip on the back. “It’s okay to love people after a bad experience, ya know.”

Skip shook his head. “No. That’d mean Dad was right.” Skip objected.

Striker chuckled, Skip internally swooning at the sweet-as-honey sound. “Is that all that’s holdin’ ya back, Tiny~?”

Skip struggled to find words to say. He didn’t have to. Skip was stunned into silence as he was pulled into a kiss.

He was shocked at first, but relaxed after a few seconds.

Eventually, the two separated. “Like I said; easy~” Striker hummed. He eventually stood up, Skip following suit. “Come on, your dad’s probably worried sick.” Striker said.

Skip gulped nervously. “I-I….Don’t know how to get back...I kinda spaced out…” Skip winced.

Striker quirked an eyebrow, grabbing Skip by the sides and lifting him up.

“Huh?!” Skip squeaked in confusion.

“I’m takin’ ya with me.” Striker said, hopping on Bombproof with Skip.

“Just stay calm and you’ll be fine.” Striker instructed. Skip nodded. “Also, hold on.” Striker said.

“Wait, what-” Skip started, getting interrupted as Bombproof burst into a run, Skip barely holding on.

(With Blitzø and the others.)

“Has anyone seen Skip come back yet? I’m kinda worried about him.” Blitzø paced nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, Boss, I’m sure Skip is fine!” Millie assured.

The group’s attention was grabbed by thundering hoofsteps approaching them.

Striker came thundering into view riding Bombproof, Skip holding on tightly.

“Ya know how to halt a Hell Horse, Tiny?” Striker asked.

“Y-Yeah, kinda, but-” Skip started.

“Great! Time to test that knowledge!” Striker said, hopping off, leaving Skip in control.

Skip shrieked, quickly taking the reigns, struggling to stay on the Hell Horse, bouncing up and down at the speed he was going at.

“S-Slow down! Please!” Skip stammered.

“YOU’VE GOT THIS HONEY, JUST LIKE YOUR DADDY TAUGHT YA!!” Blitzø called happily.

“DAD!” Skip called, face heating up in embarrassment.

Skip eventually stopped Bombproof, falling off and landing on the ground. “I’ve never seen someone stop him like that. Nice job.” Striker winked.

Skip smiled shakily. Blitzø rushed over, picking up Skip in a hug and spinning around happily. “Ya did it! I’m so proud of you!” Blitzø grinned widely.

“Dad…?” Skip asked.

“Yeah?” Blitzø asked, smiling widely.

“How do you feel about me having a small crush on someone?”

“I’m sorry.” Blitzø started.

“WHAT?!?”

#Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss Millie #Helluva Boss Blitzo #Helluva Boss Striker #Helluva Boss Millie's parents #(I DON'T REMEMBER THEIR NAMES-)#Helluva Boss Bombproof #Helluva Boss Oc #my oc #Skip #Ask to tag #Smooches #I GUESS???#Idk-#Tagging is ass at this point-

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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ESSAY: Berserk's Journey of Acceptance Over 30 Years of Fandom

My descent into anime fandom began in the '90s, and just as watching Neon Genesis Evangelion caused my first revelation that cartoons could be art, reading Berserk gave me the same realization about comics. The news of Kentaro Miura’s death, who passed on May 6, has been emotionally complicated for me, as it's the first time a celebrity's death has hit truly close to home. In addition to being the lynchpin for several important personal revelations, Berserk is one of the longest-lasting works I’ve followed and that I must suddenly bid farewell to after existing alongside it for two-thirds of my life.

Berserk is a monolith not only for anime and manga, but also fantasy literature, video games, you name it. It might be one of the single most influential works of the ‘80s — on a level similar to Blade Runner — to a degree where it’s difficult to imagine what the world might look like without it, and the generations of creators the series inspired.

Although not the first, Guts is the prototypical large sword anime boy: Final Fantasy VII's Cloud Strife, Siegfried/Nightmare from Soulcalibur, and Black Clover's Asta are all links in the same chain, with other series like Dark Souls and Claymore taking clear inspiration from Berserk. But even deeper than that, the three-character dynamic between Guts, Griffith, and Casca, the monster designs, the grotesque violence, Miura’s image of hell — all of them can be spotted in countless pieces of media across the globe.

Despite this, it just doesn’t seem like people talk about it very much. For over 20 years, Berserk has stood among the critical pantheon for both anime and manga, but it doesn’t spur conversations in the same way as Neon Genesis Evangelion, Akira, or Dragon Ball Z still do today. Its graphic depictions certainly represent a barrier to entry much higher than even the aforementioned company.

Seeing the internet exude sympathy and fond reminiscing about Berserk was immensely validating and has been my single most therapeutic experience online. Moreso, it reminded me that the fans have always been there. And even looking into it, Berserk is the single best-selling property in the 35-year history of Dark Horse. My feeling is that Berserk just has something about it that reaches deep into you and gets stuck there.

I recall introducing one of my housemates to Berserk a few years ago — a person with all the intelligence and personal drive to both work on cancer research at Stanford while pursuing his own MD and maintaining a level of physical fitness that was frankly unreasonable for the hours that he kept. He was NOT in any way analytical about the media he consumed, but watching him sitting on the floor turning all his considerable willpower and intellect toward delivering an off-the-cuff treatise on how Berserk had so deeply touched him was a sight in itself to behold. His thoughts on the series' portrayal of sex as fundamentally violent leading up to Guts and Casca’s first moment of intimacy in the Golden Age movies was one of the most beautiful sentiments I’d ever heard in reaction to a piece of fiction.

I don’t think I’d ever heard him provide anything but a surface-level take on a piece of media before or since. He was a pretty forthright guy, but the way he just cut into himself and let his feelings pour out onto the floor left me awestruck. The process of reading Berserk can strike emotional chords within you that are tough to untangle. I’ve been writing analysis and experiential pieces related to anime and manga for almost ten years — and interacting with Berserk’s world for almost 30 years — and writing may just be yet another attempt for me to pull my own twisted-up feelings about it apart.

Berserk is one of the most deeply personal works I’ve ever read, both for myself and in my perception of Miura's works. The series' transformation in the past 30 years artistically and thematically is so singular it's difficult to find another work that comes close. The author of Hajime no Ippo, who was among the first to see Berserk as Miura presented him with some early drafts working as his assistant, claimed that the design for Guts and Puck had come from a mess of ideas Miura had been working on since his early school days.

写真は三浦建太郎君が寄稿してくれた鷹村です。今かなり感傷的になっています。思い出話をさせて下さい。僕が初めての週刊連載でスタッフが一人もいなくて困っていたら手伝いにきてくれました。彼が18で僕が19です。某大学の芸術学部の学生で講義明けにスケッチブックを片手に来てくれました。 pic.twitter.com/hT1JCWBTKu

— 森川ジョージ (@WANPOWANWAN) May 20, 2021

Miura claimed two of his big influences were Go Nagai’s Violence Jack and Tetsuo Hara and Buronson’s Fist of the North Star. Miura wears these influences on his sleeve, discovering the early concepts that had percolated in his mind just felt right. The beginning of Berserk, despite its amazing visual power, feels like it sprang from a very juvenile concept: Guts is a hypermasculine lone traveler breaking his body against nightmarish creatures in his single-minded pursuit of revenge, rigidly independent and distrustful of others due to his dark past.

Uncompromising, rugged, independent, a really big sword ... Guts is a romantic ideal of masculinity on a quest to personally serve justice against the one who wronged him. Almost nefarious in the manner in which his character checked these boxes, especially when it came to his grim stoicism, unblinkingly facing his struggle against literal cosmic forces. Never doubting himself, never trusting others, never weeping for what he had lost.

Miura said he sketched out most of the backstory when the manga began publication, so I have to assume the larger strokes of the Golden Arc were pretty well figured out from the outset, but I’m less sure if he had fully realized where he wanted to take the story to where we are now. After the introductory mini-arcs of demon-slaying, Berserk encounters Griffith and the story draws us back to a massive flashback arc. We see the same Guts living as a lone mercenary who Griffith persuades to join the Band of the Hawk to help realize his ambitions of rising above the circumstances of his birth to join the nobility.

We discover the horrific abuses of Guts’ adoptive father and eventually learn that Guts, Griffith, and Casca are all victims of sexual violence. The story develops into a sprawling semi-historical epic featuring politics and war, but the real narrative is in the growing companionship between Guts and the members of the band. Directionless and traumatized by his childhood, Guts slowly finds a purpose helping Griffith realize his dream and the courage to allow others to grow close to him.

Miura mentioned that many Band of the Hawk members were based on his early friend groups. Although he was always sparse with details about his personal life, he has spoken about how many of them referred to themselves as aspiring manga authors and how he felt an intense sense of competition, admitting that among them he may have been the only one seriously working toward that goal, desperately keeping ahead in his perceived race against them. It’s intriguing thinking about how much of this angst may have made it to the pages, as it's almost impossible not to imagine Miura put quite a bit of himself in Guts.

Perhaps this is why it feels so real and makes The Eclipse — the quintessential anime betrayal at the hands of Griffith — all the more heartbreaking. The raw violence and macabre imagery certainly helped. While Miura owed Hellraiser’s Cenobites much in the designs of the God Hand, his macabre portrayal of the Band of the Hawk’s eradication within the literal bowels of hell, the massive hand, the black sun, the Skull Knight, and even Miura’s page compositions have been endlessly referenced, copied, and outright plagiarized since.

The events were tragic in any context and I have heard many deeply personal experiences others drew from The Eclipse sympathizing with Guts, Casca, or even Griffith’s spiral driven by his perceived rejection by Guts. Mine were most closely aligned with the tragedy of Guts having overcome such painful circumstances to not only reject his own self enforced solitude, but to fearlessly express his affection for his loved ones.

The Golden Age was a methodical destruction of Guts’ self-destructive methods of preservation ruined in a single selfish act by his most trusted friend, leaving him once again alone and afraid of growing close to those around him. It ripped the romance of Guts’ mission and eventually took the story down a course I never expected. Berserk wasn’t a story of revenge but one of recovery.

Guess that’s enough beating around the bush, as I should talk about how this shift affected me personally. When I was young, when I began reading Berserk I found Guts’ unflagging stoicism to be really cool, not just aesthetically but in how I understood guys were supposed to be. I was slow to make friends during school and my rapidly gentrifying neighborhood had my friends' parents moving away faster than I could find new ones. At some point I think I became too afraid of putting myself out there anymore, risking rejection when even acceptance was so fleeting. It began to feel easier just to resign myself to solitude and pretend my circumstances were beyond my own power to correct.

Unfortunately, I became the stereotypical kid who ate alone during lunch break. Under the invisible expectations demanding I not display weakness, my loneliness was compounded by shame for feeling loneliness. My only recourse was to reveal none of those feelings and pretend the whole thing didn't bother me at all. Needless to say my attempts to cope probably fooled no one and only made things even worse, but I really didn’t know of any better way to handle my situation. I felt bad, I felt even worse about feeling bad and had been provided with zero tools to cope, much less even admit that I had a problem at all.

The arcs following the Golden Age completely changed my perspective. Guts had tragically, yet understandably, cut himself off from others to save himself from experiencing that trauma again and, in effect, denied himself any opportunity to allow himself to be happy again. As he began to meet other characters that attached themselves to him, between Rickert and Erica spending months waiting worried for his return, and even the slimmest hope to rescuing Casca began to seed itself into the story, I could only see Guts as a fool pursuing a grim and hopeless task rather than appreciating everything that he had managed to hold onto.

The same attributes that made Guts so compelling in the opening chapters were revealed as his true enemy. Griffith had committed an unforgivable act but Guts’ journey for revenge was one of self-inflicted pain and fear. The romanticism was gone.

Farnese’s inclusion in the Conviction arc was a revelation. Among the many brilliant aspects of her character, I identified with her simply for how she acted as a stand-in for myself as the reader: Plagued by self-doubt and fear, desperate to maintain her own stoic and uncompromising image, and resentful of her place in the world. She sees Guts’ fearlessness in the face of cosmic horror and believes she might be able to learn his confidence.

But in following Guts, Farnese instead finds a teacher in Casca. In taking care of her, Farnese develops a connection and is able to experience genuine sympathy that develops into a sense of responsibility. Caring for Casca allows Farnese to develop the courage she was lacking not out of reckless self-abandon but compassion.

I can’t exactly credit Berserk with turning my life around, but I feel that it genuinely helped crystallize within me a sense of growing doubts about my maladjusted high school days. My growing awareness of Guts' undeniable role in his own suffering forced me to admit my own role in mine and created a determination to take action to fix it rather than pretending enough stoicism might actually result in some sort of solution.

I visited the Berserk subreddit from time to time and always enjoyed the group's penchant for referring to all the members of the board as “fellow strugglers,” owing both to Skull Knight’s label for Guts and their own tongue-in-cheek humor at waiting through extended hiatuses. Only in retrospect did it feel truly fitting to me. Trying to avoid the pitfalls of Guts’ path is a constant struggle. Today I’m blessed with many good friends but still feel primal pangs of fear holding me back nearly every time I meet someone, the idea of telling others how much they mean to me or even sharing my thoughts and feelings about something I care about deeply as if each action will expose me to attack.

It’s taken time to pull myself away from the behaviors that were so deeply ingrained and it’s a journey where I’m not sure the work will ever be truly done, but witnessing Guts’ own slow progress has been a constant source of reassurance. My sense of admiration for Miura’s epic tale of a man allowing himself to let go after suffering such devastating circumstances brought my own humble problems and their way out into focus.

Over the years I, and many others, have been forced to come to terms with the fact that Berserk would likely never finish. The pattern of long, unexplained hiatuses and the solemn recognition that any of them could be the last is a familiar one. The double-edged sword of manga largely being works created by a single individual is that there is rarely anyone in a position to pick up the torch when the creator calls it quits. Takehiko Inoue’s Vagabond, Ai Yazawa’s Nana, and likely Yoshihiro Togashi’s Hunter X Hunter all frozen in indefinite hiatus, the publishers respectfully holding the door open should the creators ever decide to return, leaving it in a liminal space with no sense of conclusion for the fans except what we can make for ourselves.

The reason for Miura’s hiatuses was unclear. Fans liked to joke that he would take long breaks to play The Idolmaster, but Miura was also infamous for taking “breaks” spent minutely illustrating panels to his exacting artistic standard, creating a tumultuous release schedule during the wars featuring thousands of tiny soldiers all dressed in period-appropriate armor. If his health was becoming an issue, it’s uncommon that news would be shared with fans for most authors, much less one as private as Miura.

Even without delays, the story Miura was building just seemed to be getting too big. The scale continued to grow, his narrative ambition swelling even faster after 20 years of publication, the depth and breadth of his universe constantly expanding. The fan-dubbed “Millennium Falcon Arc” was massive, changing the landscape of Berserk from a low fantasy plagued by roaming demons to a high fantasy where godlike beings of sanity-defying size battled for control of the world. How could Guts even meet Griffith again? What might Casca want to do when her sanity returned? What are the origins of the Skull Knight? And would he do battle with the God Hand? There was too much left to happen and Miura’s art only grew more and more elaborate. It would take decades to resolve all this.

But it didn’t need to. I imagine we’ll never get a precise picture of the final years of Miura’s life leading up to his tragic passing. In the final chapters he released, it felt as if he had directed the story to some conclusion. The unfinished Fantasia arc finds Guts and his newfound band finding a way to finally restore Casca’s sanity and — although there is still unmistakably a boundary separating them — both seem resolute in finding a way to mend their shared wounds together.

One of the final chapters features Guts drinking around the campfire with the two other men of his group, Serpico and Roderick, as he entrusts the recovery of Casca to Schierke and Farnese. It's a scene that, in the original Band of the Hawk, would have found Guts brooding as his fellows engage in bluster. The tone of this conversation, however, is completely different. The three commiserate over how much has changed and the strength each has found in the companionship of the others. After everything that has happened, Guts declares that he is grateful.

The suicidal dedication to his quest for vengeance and dispassionate pragmatism that defined Guts in the earliest chapters is gone. Although they first appeared to be a source of strength as the Black Swordsman, he has learned that they rose from the fear of losing his friends again, from letting others close enough to harm him, and from having no other purpose without others. Whether or not Guts and Griffith were to ever meet again, Guts has rediscovered the strength to no longer carry his burdens alone.

All that has happened is all there will ever be. We too must be grateful.

Peter Fobian is an Associate Manager of Social Video at Crunchyroll, writer for Anime Academy and Anime in America, and an editor at Anime Feminist. You can follow him on Twitter @PeterFobian.

By: Peter Fobian

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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aspiring-ginger · 5 years ago

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Sweet Wine (Jaskier x Reader)

Request: Hey! I love The Witcher too!! Could you write another Jaskier fic? I just finished the series last night and I was SO EMO for Jaskier in ep 6 😭 Could you do Jaskier x Female Reader where the reader gets really sick of hearing people make fun of his singing, so she very drunkenly and loudly defends him in the middle of a crowded tavern, also accidentally admitting her raging crush on him in front of everyone?

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1,769

Pairing(s): Jaskier x fem!reader (The Witcher)

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! There’s never too many Jaskier fics 💜

Comments and feedback are always appreciated!

Taglist: @thunderdog8 , @dreaming-about-starfleet , @dandelionwitcher

Masterlist

It was nights like these that, although some might not like to admit it (ehm, Geralt), were everyone’s favorites. Starting out with (Y/n) and Jaskier pestering the Witcher to stop at an inn for the night instead of camping and Geralt reluctantly agreeing, also biting back a smile at their antics, which lead to the joyful singing from the rest of the party as they traveled. Jaskier’s cheerful voice mixing with yours.

(Y/n) would be left in charge of steering Jaskier’s horse while he sat behind her, back to back, with lute in hand. Which, eventually, would always lead to him falling off. (Y/n)’s side splitting open in laughter, while Geralt allowed himself to laugh as well. Jaskier’s sore bottom was nothing compared to the sound of his dear friends’ laughter.

Lunch would pass rather quickly- Jaskier spending the whole time fantasizing about what ‘delicacies’ they would be eating for dinner and what the signature brews of the next establishment might be. As always, Geralt would grumble something about ‘booze is booze’ and he was going to drink whatever they had, and (Y/n) would laugh and lament the sweet dessert wines she craved, yet those were usually only found at banquets and parties. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for Geralt, they wouldn’t be going to any of those in the foreseeable future.

Once in town the three would slip into their familiar routine of attending to whatever matters each might have. Geralt went looking for contracts, (Y/n) looking for herbs, and Jaskier securing their rooms. They would all return in just in time for supper and Jaskier’s performances.

Tonight was just like every other night like it had been, except there were a few exceptions. This tavern was particularly crowded and rowdy. Geralt and (Y/n) shared worried glances over their stew as this could mean trouble for their bard, but he seemed to have it under control. This quickly slipped from their minds anyway- the tavern offered one of (Y/n)’s favorite sweet wines. Geralt was now babysitting two overgrown children.

It wasn’t that (Y/n) couldn’t hold her liquor, not at all. In fact, she could give Geralt a run for his money on most days. If it weren’t for his mutations, she would probably have him beat. But that was most days, where all they drank was the local piss. This was something she enjoyed drinking, and when something tastes that good- it’s easy to forget just how many glasses you’ve consumed. So she sat at their table, merrily clapping and slurring along to Jaskier’s tunes. The rest of the patrons seemed to be in a good mood, so all was going well.

Glancing down (Y/n) realized her mug was empty and stood up, rather abruptly and nearly spilling the rest of Geralt’s stew, to get another. It was only her second and they had plenty of coin, although Geralt’s count was at five. He rolled his eyes and let her stumble to the bar, smiling into his own ale. It wasn’t often his companions got to enjoy themselves like this. Plus, his warnings of slowing down fell on deaf ears, so it wasn’t his fault if she had a major hangover the next day.

(Y/n) waited patiently for her drink, tapping one foot to the beat as she watched her favorite bard. She found it hard not to, as he was so very distracting. His voice rang throughout the whole tavern, and he kept dancing in and out of her vision. Heads turned in his direction as he spun this way and that. She sighed and rested her cheek in her hand. (Y/n) swore he looked ethereal. The gentle flickering of firelight glinted off of his newly washed hair, the small bit in the front bobbing up and down as he moved. His bright blue eyes sparkled, full of energy and life, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. And gods, when he smiled, he took her breath away. The whole world seemed to melt away as she locked eyes with Jaskier, his smile growing wider and a wink was thrown her way. (Y/n)’s heart skipped a beat.

She was broken out of her stupor when a fresh mug slid her way and splashed her sleeve. She greedily took another drink not wanting to seem like she was staring too long. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she put her wine back down, when something caught her attention. There was laughter off to her left, sounding much harsher than it should have. Listening in, she picked out what seemed like three men, all jeering at and mocking the bard. It immediately irked her, how could they not see that the embodiment of perfection itself was currently performing for them, putting his heart into every single note and phrase? (Y/n) glanced back over to Geralt, looking to see what his expression could tell. Though he said otherwise, she sometimes caught him quietly humming or tapping along to Jaskier’s songs. Geralt did not look this way. He was not enjoying himself in the slightest, his eyes formed into a hard glare and he looked bored. So very bored. (Y/n)’s head whipped back to the left as she heard the cruel laughter again, the men now beginning to heckle the poor bard.

Jaskier finished his song. He gave a dramatic bow as the tavern cheered and clapped, but the rowdy table of men began to boo and toss chunks of bread in his direction. There was no way (Y/n) would let them talk shit about her bard.

“Oi!” She shouted, her stool clattering to the floor as she stood. “You better watch your fucking mouths, you dimwits!”

Jaskier’s smile faltered and he looked to (Y/n) with wide eyes. Geralt clenched his jaw and prepared for the worst. Somehow, their nights drinking always ended in a bar fight. One of the men stood up, his beady eyes narrowing at (Y/n).

“Oh yeah? You sure got some mouth on you then, sweetheart. What you gonna do about it, eh? Stupid woman you are.” His buddies joined in on his laughter.

Her nostrils flared, and there was a fire in her eyes. “Do you even know who you’re listening to? Who you should be sodding grateful you could even hear his music? This is Jaskier, the world famous bard. Also known as Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of fucking Lettenhove.” She pounded her fist on the bar and nearby drinks sloshed at the impact. “He graduated from Oxenfurt Academy with honors. He travels with a witcher, fucking Geralt of Rivia. Ever heard of them? Oh well of course not. How could a small town idiot know anything of celebrities and lords when he spends all his time fucking sheep in piles of shit?”

“What the fuck you know about our town, bitch?! You obviously don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. It’s clear your bard here prefers the company of men, so you need real men like us to show you how it's done, you filthy whore!” He spat.

“So fucking what if he likes men or women? He’s great in bed! Everyone knows that and everyone wants to bed him! Hell, I want to bed him! His perfect chocolate hair and blue eyes and amazing voice and...argh!” She grabbed her mug and threw it at the man. She stumbled slightly but her aim proved true, splashing sticky her sticky wine all over the beady eyed man. “He’s the best fucking musician I’ve ever heard! Nobody gives him the credit he deserves!”

Geralt shot up from his seat and leapt at the man, who roared in anger and was about to attack. Jaskier stared in shock at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

“(Y/n)!” Geralt yelled, “That’s enough! Jaskier, get her upstairs!” He began wrestling with the man, Geralt easily had the upper hand due to his greater size and sobriety.

“No! Nobody is appreciating Jaskier like they should!” (Y/n) slurred. Jaskier slung his lute on his back and rushed over to her.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, dear. I think they all get the message now. You’ve made it very clear how good of a performer you think I am, it’s alright. Let’s get you upstairs, shall we? I think you’ve had far too much to drink.” He attempted to calm her, struggling to lead her back in the direction of the stairs. (Y/n) thrashed and stumbled against him in protest. “Shh sh sh sh shhhhh, (Y/n). It’s alright. C’mon.” He grunted as he slung her arm around his back to support her weight.

Geralt was busy dragging the unsavory man outside as the rest of the tavern was no longer silent. Cheers were heard for both the witcher and the drunk, though it was clear who was winning. (Y/n) stumbled up the stairs with Jaskier’s help. They stopped a couple times as she began to veer off to the right, straight into the wall and Jaskier needed to tug her back for balance.

After some struggle the two finally made it all the way up the stairs and into one of their rooms. Jaskier led (Y/n) over to the bed and tried to gently place her down, instead throwing her against it rather ungracefully. He rubbed his shoulder and sighed, bending down to begin to unlace her boots.

“Ya know...I meant everything I said down there.” She began, eyes already heavy, “I’m sorry that I ruined your show…”

Jaskier laughed in response. “It’s alright….We’ll...We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? I think we need to have a conversation when we both have our wits about us, hm?” He fetched a mug of water and placed it on the table beside her bed.

“You won’t leave me, will you?”

“Of course not, (Y/n). I’ll stay.”

“Mmmm...okay.” She snuggled into the pillows, her speech almost incomprehensible. “I love you, you silly bard.”

Jaskier pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down with a sigh, unable to hide his grin.

“And I, you. Now get some sleep. We can talk about this when you wake up.”

Whatever it is she said next, he couldn’t make it out, it sounded more like a groan than actual speech.

“And I, you...” He settled into the chair, removing his doublet and draping it around himself like a blanket. The smile remained on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

Taglist and Requests are open!

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