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lycanlovingvampyre · 2 years ago

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MAG 146 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: taking a bubble bath.

"I suppose I do probably owe you some sort of explanation. (big sigh) Right." It’s been a while since we had a statement that made me go: “Nobody writes like that” xD That's something you'd use verbally, but not written down. Maybe it’s one of those dictated statements.

"But dad was weirdly protective of me, kept trying to keep me around, like he was terrified that the world outside was going to hurt me." He kinda was right?

There is something deeply terrifying about luring children into a trap like the Distortion did with the green jumping rope. Horror genre-wise my thoughts immediately jumped to It, when Pennywise baited Georgie with the paper boat. Otherwise, for me personally there seems to be more to this concept because I often have nightmares about this. Can’t remember any event that might have triggered this though. Maybe it’s just a horror favorite of mine. That moment in those nightmares, when I realize it's a lure, always hits so hard...

"Something was holding the other end, and it was trying to pull me. For one, awful moment, I found myself frozen in a tug-of-war with whatever was inside that door, clinging desperately to that rope as it stretched away and vanished into blackness." Getting goosebumps! I love horror stories with something we can't see interacting with our world. (Absolutely loved this in MAG 9 for example, the beast pounding on the door. Or MAG 63, the shadows holding the statement giver's friend. Hm, usually this is a Dark thing...)

"I told my parents, of course, but they didn’t believe me. They just thought I’d lost it, and was making up wild stories to cover it up." Ahhh, typical Spiral, one of these very real fears. I have very bad childhood memories about this. I hated being a child and not being taken seriously or an easy scapegoat. Not that it got better when it comes to being taken seriously... Yeah, really looking forward to MAG 177... /sarcasm

I love the just-a-few-sentences door stories!

"I’m… sorry; I didn’t mean to get so deep into my issues." Ha, effect of the Eye/Archivist presence?

JON: "But now I decide to start looking properly into Hill Top Road, and all of a sudden I’m drawn to rearrange a filing cabinet, and what do I find behind it?" All of a sudden drawn to do something, you say. After digging into Hill Top Road... I mean, at least Jon seems aware of this being weird. That perhaps contributed to him thinking he's being manipulated by the Web (+ trying to deny it's really him seeking out live statements). And... he actually was manipulated, just not in the way he thought...

HELEN: "No. I imagine not. I decided it was time to finish that game a few months ago." A few months ago... like 10 months ago maybe? When Helen came to Jon in MAG 115? And now he comes to her... Luckily not about the feeding thing. Helen steered the conversation into this direction. And Helen is a terrible conversational partner when it comes to talking about their relationships with the Fears. Daisy is way better for this.

HELEN: "Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? (pointed) Don’t we, Archivist?" JON: "Yes." Yeah, pre-empted it in the previous bullet point, Helen knows whats going on and of course she's rubbing salt into that wound. Jon sounds so scared when he answers. Like, he's coming to terms that it's actually him choosing to feed and perhaps that scares him even more than being manipulated into doing it.

HELEN: "There is something wrong with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange scar on reality at the center of – whatever it is that the Spider is spinning." Oh, the foreshadowing^^

JON: "I, I want to know: Can the Web control another avatar, one that serves a different power? Make them do things they don’t want to, make them –" JON: "– find victims, feed –" [HE BREAKS OFF; HELEN IS CLEARLY GETTING TO HIM.] HELEN: "Oh, perhaps. Perhaps not. Would that make life easier for you? Are you so sure you didn’t want to?" Yeah, that. Helen always knows how to twist the knife.

Just like we heard a few short horror stories about doors, we now get short statements! I wonder, if these were ideas which didn't make it into a full statement.

JON: "I was walking the streets; I – I thought I was trying to clear my head…" DAISY: "But you were hunting." Oh course, Daisy knows that feeling. I'm glad she's here.

JON: "I don’t record anything anymore, not, not really;" Not really-counter of S4: 16!

BASIRA: "You’re a danger, Jon. A monster. You’re hurting innocent people." JON: "So did Daisy." BASIRA: "Shut up. It’s not the same thing at all." DAISY: "Basira. He has a point." Until this point Basira was admittedly cold towards Jon, but never hostile. Sometimes she even (tried) to help him in a caring way (coffee after trying to Know, telling Jon he doesn't have to look at the Dark Sun...) That ship has sailed now. She wasn't trusting Jon when he woke up and it looked like that gradually changed a bit, but now that trust is destroyed, and even worse, Basira probably feels verified about not wanting to trust Jon. Jon immediately brings up Daisy, he probably thought about this long enough and hoped Basira would cut him some slack because she didn't care about it either when Daisy did it. He kind of throws Daisy under the bus there a bit, but she knows it's true and relevant to Basira. Really, reeeeally glad Daisy is here. She's adds an important perspective to this situation.

BASIRA: "You didn’t know what you were doing." [DAISY MAKES A PAINED SOUND, AS IF TO CONTRADICT HER, BUT STOPS.] BASIRA: "And since you did, you’ve spent every waking hour resisting. He knows exactly what he’s doing." We already heard Daisy's view on this in MAG 142. She said "I hate a lot of what I did back then; doesn’t mean I’m not responsible for it, doesn’t mean it wasn’t me." Basira fully loses the capability of seeing this situation in a more objective way. Seeing, that Daisy was like this as well. But Daisy has been doing this for a lot longer than Jon and probably had a lot of time thinking about it in the coffin and since she's been out. To Jon this is rather new and he has almost no support. No wonder he's not handling it well...

Here's the thing. If you give people the feeling, they have no right to contribute to a discussion, it will scar them and in the future they will handle situations like this badly, even if they get an equal vote. Hmmm, does that come up later...?

MELANIE: "B-Basira – Come, come on." [BASIRA LEAVES, SHUTTING THE DOOR BEHIND HER.] [MELANIE SIGHS.] JON: "Well, that was…" DAISY AND MELANIE: "Shut up." For the comedic effect it was better that Daisy also says "Shut up", but I think it's a bit out of character given the way she just engaged in this conversation.

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 146 #tma #tma spoilers

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broken-clover · 2 years ago

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Glass Castles

I am distraught that I could not find the original prompt, but nonetheless I wanted to post this one. So, uh, to the person that asked for Ky-and-Sin bonding backfiring thanks to their messed up family history, I thank you for your patience, and I’m sorry I couldn’t find the proper post to respond to in order to post this

For the sake of covering the bases, I will include a warning for child abuse. Nothing graphic, but I thought it would be good to mention. Also, while not a content warning, this does get a little character-bashy in terms of Sol’s parenting skills

Father-son bonding time between Ky and Sin was still painfully awkward, and it didn’t take a genius to notice it. Even if Sin didn’t resent his father anymore, the two could still be very different people. Their one-on-one conversations tended to be short and awkward, even when they tried their best. There was no animosity, but something still made it impossible to fully bridge that gap.

Still, Ky did his best to try. He owed his son that much. Even just hearing his traveling stories was a delight, and those tended to be the best conversations they had. Sin would recount some bounty or another between himself and Sol, and he would listen, only interrupting every so often to laugh or offer a thought. Sin didn’t have to adore him as much as he did his mother, it only mattered that he knew his father loved him.

For what it was worth, Sin was a very impressive storyteller.

“-And- and then as soon as the old man and me started walking away, the Gear reared right back up and started shooting these big tentacle things everywhere from the spot where I knocked off its leg!”

Despite the odd phrasing at times, Sin spoke with such enthusiasm that it was hard to not get swept into his excitement. His paternal instincts took some worry in hearing about the harrowing situations his son often ended up in, but Sin regarded them all with a strange fondness after the fact, no matter how rough some of his incidents ended up becoming.

“Luckily the old man still had his sword in his hand, but I got stuck like ten feet in the air hanging by my ankles until he stabbed it a bunch! He was so cool! Hurt a lot when I hit the ground, though. So, uh, what’s up with you?”

And that was where their conversations tended to lag. It was a well-meaning question, it just wasn’t one that tended to lead anywhere.

“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid, just a lot of politics I doubt you’ll find especially interesting.”

“Bleh. Yeah, no thanks.” Sin laughed, sticking out his tongue to exaggerate his distaste.

Ky thought for a moment. “Although, I suppose it is a minor thing, in my free time I’ve been trying to sort the boxes of your things that I have in storage. I wasn’t sure if or when you’d have interest in taking any of it with you, but either way, I wanted to make sure it was kept in a safe spot.”

He hadn’t expected that to be much different than his first response, but to his surprise, Sin was unusually attentive. “Huh, really? I didn’t know there was anything, you find anything neat?”

“Well, I didn’t dig too deeply into them, I was just trying to put them in the closet,” he replied. “I don’t imagine there’ll be much in there aside from some old baby clothes, but I don’t mind digging it out if you’re interested.”

His son looked down at him with bright, curious eyes, and nodded. “Oh. Uh, alright, I suppose if you’re interested…?”

Ky led him to the bedroom that he and Dizzy shared, ignoring the paper-covered desk and mussed bedsheets in favor of the closet. Past the hanging clothes and spare boots, everything was exactly where he’d left it from organizing. He pulled out several stacked bins, plastered with labels like ’Sin’s nursery’ and ’Outgrown clothing’ he’d written out himself. As soon as one was within arm’s reach, Sin eagerly pulled the lid back and started skimming through old baby pajamas.

“Damn, it’s weird to think I was so tiny.” He hung a tiny cloth bootie from one finger, nearly filled just from that. “Babies have feet this small? Seriously? How’d this ever fit me?”

“You did grow up a lot faster than most children. If you didn’t, I think you’d be about half the size you are right now!”

“Man…” Sin felt some instinctive embarrassment at all the little frilly dresses and jumpers that his parents no doubt took full delight in making him wear, but something about it was so intriguing that it didn’t phase him.

His hand bumped against something solid buried deeper in the box. When he fished it out, he found some odd star-shaped thing made of wood. The purpose of it eluded him until he noticed a string coming off the top that led back into the mess of felt and lace. It connected to something similarly firm, then another, then more, all in different directions, until he was left holding a tangle of wood and cord.

It took him several moments to even recognize it was supposed to be a mobile. Several of the strings were tied shorter than the others, making the whole thing appear lopsided, no matter what angle he looked at it. The stars and clouds were oddly shaped and lacquered sloppily, making the colors run together.

Ky chuckled to himself. “My goodness, somehow I’d forgotten all about that one.”

“It’s funky! Where’s you get it?”

“I made it. Well, uh, most of it. I bought the music player from a friend at work, but I carved all the hanging pieces myself. I didn’t have much experience with woodworking…though I suppose that’s clear enough just from looking at it.”

“Nah, I think it’s cool!” Sin poked at one of the dangling trinkets.

“I’m glad. The first time I tried hanging it over your crib, you started crying. Your mother said it was a coincidence, but I didn’t try again. I wonder if it still works….?”

Ky felt along the main body where all the strings hung from. He twisted a metal key on the side, and a quiet melody started to play.

“Woah. Didn’t know you like, made stuff.”

“When I was working for the police, I did have a bit more time to try and foster hobbies, at least at first. Woodworking and painting were the only things I seem to recall pursuing to the point where I actually had things to show for it.”

Sin was grinning, but it faded as he turned the words over in his head. ‘At first.’ There had been a reason he’d lost any spare time, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what. He tried to his his expression, but Ky quickly picked up on his discomfort.

“No, no. It’s not like that. I took on a lot more responsibilities at work even before we had you, that isn’t something you have any reason to feel guilt over. Please.”

He wasn’t sure how much he believed it, but when his father reached out to hug him, he let it happen.

“It’s not my fault? Even when you got all sick?”

“No. None of it. And it wasn’t your fault when we had to send you to live with Sol. I only became sick because someone didn’t like that I loved your mother. Or you. And if it would ensure your safety, I would have gladly sacrificed more. I…I didn’t want to send you away, but this was no place for a child. I wouldn’t have been able to keep you safe. As much as it hurt…In some regard, I suppose I’m happy you weren’t able to see me at such a low point.”

“Heh, come on…” Sin half-chuckled, clearly trying to hide his uneasiness. “Everyone learns their dad isn’t some invincible god at some point, right?

“I suppose that’s fair.” Ky nodded. “Still, in many ways, that should not be the burden of someone so young. I had wanted to give you a happy childhood, filled with as few worries as I could manage. But raising a kingdom was a labor I could have never imagined. It came with a psychological toll that, despite all my training, I was too weak to manage. I fell into some…bad habits in my attempts to keep sane, things I would never want a young child to have to deal with.”

Sin wanted to say something, but none of the words coming to mind were meaningful. He tried thinking deeper, but found himself too distracted by fuzzy memories of half-empty bottles in his father’s study, and the man’s longstanding habit of long sleeves and covering robes.

“But…but you’re better now, right?”

Another nod, this one with a warm smile. “I’d like to think so. I wake up in the morning with happiness and a sense of purpose. It gives me peace of mind knowing you and your mother are both happy and healthy. I truly am a blessed man.”

“Augh, don’t do that, you’ve got the voice you always do whenever you’re about to start one of your speeches!” Sin gave his father a mostly-playful smack to the arm. “Don’t wanna waste too much time anyway, didn’t you say you have a ship to catch?”

“Not until tomorrow afternoon, don’t worry. I have plenty of time.” Ky picked the mobile up from the floor and put it back in the bin. “Zepp can wait. I’m spending time with you.”

“Do you take the funky shuttle thing to get up there?”

His father paused in confusion. “The shuttle? You’ve been to Zepp before? Did Sol take you?”

Sin burst into an even bigger grin, nodding so hard the eyepatch nearly slipped off. He was glad to be back on the anecdotes, instead of mulling over his familial issues. “A few times! It was a lot of fun! Was a while ago, think it was the time with the tree…?”

“‘The time with the tree?’ Now that sounds interesting, have you told me that story already?” Ky found a more comfortable spot on the floor to sit and listen.

Sin was just happy to have the conversation somewhere else. “I dunno! I don’t think so, but it’s a funny one! Promise you’ll like it!”

“I’m sure I will.” Said Ky. “So what was so important about the tree?”

“Spoilers! Uh, um, actually, I guess it doesn’t matter. So the thing is, we were just coming back from turning in a bounty. Or maybe getting the list? I dunno, that part doesn’t matter. So, the old man goes inside, and he leaves me outside by this tree to wait so he can go get whatever it is. And this whole group of kids starts showing up and looking at me funny, kept trying to mess with my eyepatch. I ended up getting really pissed and then we were all just yelling at each other and going at it! Whole mess, whole thing was just a big mess.

Then, outta nowhere comes the old man! Guess he heard the noise, I don’t think he had anything with him when he came out. But he saw that I was getting into some stuff and- haha- he wound right up, grabbed me, and threw me right into the trunk!”

“He…he threw you into a tree?”

“I know, right?” Sin laughed. “I flew right into it!”

But Ky wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t smiling. He was looking at him with horror in his eyes.

Immediately, Sin backpedaled. “It- it didn’t hurt, not really!”

“Why did he do that to you?”

“He was just trying to keep me in line!”

“‘In line’...?” Ky didn’t look any more assured by that. “Did he even try to talk to you first?”

Sin paused. “No, was he supposed to?”

He didn’t get a reply. The silence was enough of an answer. This was the opposite of what Sin had wanted.

“Dad…” He watched Ky move to stand up. “Dad!”

“I just need to have a talk with your grandfather, Sin.” Ky replied. “I won’t pretend I know everything about parenting, but beating up a child just isn’t something you do, Gear or not.”

“H-he was just fixing the problem! And it’s not like it was any worse than playing around.”

“Was he acting like it was a game? Was he acting like it was supposed to be fun?”

Sin wilted further. “Uh, no, not really…”

“Then it wasn’t playing around, I- I…” Ky took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I sound like I’m upset with you. But none of this is your fault. I just wish I had known sooner…”

It wasn’t much of a relief. Sin wished he hadn’t said anything. He hoped his father would drop the issue, but he knew better than to think that was a realistic outcome.

“Does he do things like that to you frequently? Does he hit you when you won’t do what he wants?”

“Not anymo- no, no he doesn’t!” He immediately corrected himself as soon as Ky’s expression shifted. “Y’know, it was pretty normal stuff! I got too loud when he told me to sit down and be quiet, or I get rowdy around other kids, y’know, normal stuff!”

“But never after asking you politely to stop? Never explaining why it was wrong? Sin, this is a serious thing, this isn’t normal!”

“I-it’s- he-” Sin stumbled over his words, trying to find a way to de-escalate. “It’s okay! It’s okay! He should have done it!”

His father froze, the doorknob to the hallway half turned.

“What on earth do you think could justify that, Sin?”

“Because I’m a Gear!” He shouted. “I need to be reined in. I’m dangerous, right?”

++++++

Sol was half-reclined into the plush sofa of Ky’s office. The expensive bottle of whiskey that had been stashed under the king’s desk was lazily discarded to the next seat over, drained of every drop. Several cans accompanied it, clinking against one another in the moments where he shifted to sprawl out and find a comfier position.

He could hear Ky’s storming footsteps from several halls away, but he made no motion to get up. He was familiar with Ky’s anger, whatever this was, Sol was certain he could defuse it. Or, at least, make it go away.

The office door was flung open and slammed into the far wall. Just as expected, the man’s expression was utterly livid.

“Gonna break something if you keep doing that.”

“Sol. Outside. Now.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. Just lemme finish this drink.”

An errant lightning spark knocked the can right out of his hand. “No. Now.”

“What the-” he looked between the can on the floor and Ky. “Kid, I’m not gonna-”

The other man didn’t even wait for him to speak. Ky grabbed him by the base of his ponytail and started yanking. All he could think to do was let himself be dragged. Ky’s temper had caused him all sorts of problems over the years, and he debated whether or not this was one instance where he could brush it off with slung insults, or if the man had earned himself something worse for the rough handling.

He was dragged all the way out to the courtyard, and by then, he had decided that Ky absolutely deserved whatever barbecuing he had coming. The only reason he didn’t immediately start as soon as he was let go was the sight of Sin, unexpectedly perched on the grass with an uncharacteristic timidness.

”’Dangerous.’ That’s what Sin thinks he is. What you taught him that he is.”

Sol looked between the father and his son. What was this all about? “What, you want your kid growing up thinking the fact that he can shake off getting struck by lightning is normal? Sounds like a great way to end up with someone’s arm getting ripped off on accident, boy-scout.”

“Put away the smart remarks and listen to me.” Neither Ky’s face nor his voice held any sense of levity. “I’m not a foolish child anymore. I know there are just some situations that can’t be dealt with through polite discussion. But there’s a difference between using force as a last resort and beating up a child that doesn’t know better.”

“What- ‘beating up?’ I never beat the kid up. Sure, I had to discipline him a couple times, but-”

“I can’t believe I have to say this to you, but hitting children isn’t okay! It’s not! Even if they’re misbehaving, you don’t hit them! You teach them what they’re doing is wrong, and they learn from it!”

Sol watched Sin wince in discomfort. He suddenly looked far smaller than his appearance typically suggested.

“It was just the best option at the time-”

“‘Best,’ or easiest?” Ky snapped.

Sol offered no response. None of the thoughts coming into his head seemed like they would be satisfactory. Ky was storming back and forth across the grass, almost more preoccupied with himself than with the person he was chewing out.

“Part of me is just…disappointed. So unbelievably disappointed. I trusted you, Sol. Did that not mean anything? Was this some displaced spite you held towards me? I genuinely hope so- the only other thought being that you held such a level of contempt for Sin, someone who had never done anything to earn it. You can’t tell me in full honesty that you thought this was right!”

“D-dad, it’s okay…”

“Look, I get it, okay? I half-assed it, and I fucked up your kid. But I don’t hate him, okay?? I might not have tried hard enough-”

“No.” Ky waved him down. “That’s not good enough. That’s not an excuse. You can blame laziness for the first few times, but you went far beyond that. Over the long-term, apathy and malice are indistinguishable. ‘Hard enough??’ You weren’t trying at all! You never saw how you were influencing Sin?!”

For once, Sin looked like the five-year-old that he was. His face was scrunched and reddening with repressed tears, and any way he could fold in on himself, he did.

“Don’t look at him, look at me. This isn’t something that’s going to go away, Sol. I can tolerate how you’ve treated me in the past. In some ways, I knew better. But this is inexcusable. I trusted you more than anyone to raise my son. And you hurt him. I’m not going to forgive you.” The king turned his back and started to walk away. “You are not welcome in Illyria Castle anymore. I’m going to give you five minutes to take your things and leave, or I will have you escorted out by force.”

Sol balked, completely thrown off by the statement. “Ky, this is ridiculous. You’re being stupid. You’re the diplomat, you’re not gonna talk through this?”

“This is not a negotiation, this is an order.”

“I’m not a citizen here, you’re not in charge of me. I don’t have to do what you say.”

Though he couldn’t see Ky’s face, he could hear the way that he scoffed. “I’m not giving you an order as a king, I’m giving you an order as a disappointed friend who’s going to kill you where you stand if you push your luck any further. LEAVE.”

Sin was a crying mess, and all Sol could do was stand around in bewilderment.

“Part of me is happy to know that you never spent a day raising your own daughter.” Ky hissed, his voice pure poison. “At least Sin didn’t know you two were related. How much would you have taught Dizzy to hate herself?”

Sol glowered at the man’s retreating form. He threw himself into motion and started stomping toward him.

“Kid, you can’t just-”

“I SAID LEAVE!” A bolt of lightning slammed into the ground, missing him by a mere few inches. It wouldn’t have killed him, but Sol could tell that Ky was making no attempt to restrain himself.

Though he was panting from the exertion, Ky’s voice and gaze were ruthlessly cold. “Sol. Get out of my house. Now. And you had best not try to come back anytime soon. Unless you have a very good reason for me to change my mind.”

#Frog Writes #guilty gear #request

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tessiete · 2 years ago

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fic writer interview

Thanks for the tag @kckenobi I AM IN A RUT so it's taken me ages. Still trying to dig myself out!

Name/nickname: tess

Fandoms: I’ve lurked in so many fandoms through the years, but the only two I’ve been active in are The Good Wife (which @pebblysand reminded me we were accused of forming a clique in! I do not recall, but there were like, 12 people in the fandom entirely so I’m not sure how we managed that), and then Star Wars. Star Wars is the most active I’ve been by far. It’s been like a crash course in picking hills to die on based on how intense my hyperfixation is at the time. I think I’ve mellowed this past year because LOTR has me by the throat again.

Two shots? Oh! What an interesting question! Um, I suppose I actually have a bunch of those. Most of the true two-shots are in The Other Just as Fair with Korkie meeting Obi-Wan during TCW, and then Obi-Wan sending Korkie gifts. Or Korkie meeting Anakin at the Temple as padawans, and Korkie throwing a strop bc his Master/dad won’t take him back to Mandalore for parent appreciation week. And some others. I’d not considered but I actually do a fair number of two-shots. And some three-shots!

Most-popular multi-chapter fic: Ugh, @kckenobi I looooove bloodlines! My most popular is statistically probably One Human Thought, but just going by hits it’s Only Hope. Neither are crazy popular in the fandom, but I still like ‘em! I’m still pretty proud of them!

Actual worst part of writing: I have to be the one to write my own stories. Wth.

How you choose your titles: Same thing as kasey, I tend to find a theme, then Google a poem. I don’t usually go with lyrics just bc I…don’t? Idk. But poems definitely. Or dialogue from old films!

Do you outline? Noooo? Sort of. It depends. For Only Hope I outlined the symbolism I was using, but not really the plot. What I tend to do is a day before I plan to actually write, I send @treescape or @pomiardve a loooong DM telling them casually what my plan is for the next 4-10k words. Then, I write it.

Ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice: I…Oh! I have this long AU where Satine agrees to marry Pre to end the civil war, but still gives birth to Obi-Wan’s child. She’s under the thumb of Pre’s father, Pel, and has to navigate the pressure of that. It’s super dark. Like, extremely dark. But Korkie and Obi-Wan have a happy ending!

Callouts @ me: You can only describe Obi-Wan’s eyelashes so many times.

Best writing traits: I think…I can distill a multitude of meanings into a relatively compact structure? I think? I don’t…I don’t write like the people I admire, and so it always makes it hard for me to judge what I like about what I do. Plus, 2022 was a terrible writing year for me so I’m struggling rn.

Spicy tangential opinion: Stories need to explore some theme. You can bury it as deeply as you like, but if you aren’t expressing an opinion then I’m probably not going to enjoy it (personally…it’s a spicy take because it’s not always true!)

tagging @darkisrising @treescape @adaliak @the-last-kenobi

#fic #me

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darlingpoppet · 8 months ago

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What's your favourite thing about patrochilles?

Sorry for taking a while to answer this one anon but I was very grateful to receive it so I wanted to think about it verrryyy carefully lol!

It’s hard for me to pinpoint one thing in particular because I don’t know if I can talk about my favorite thing without talking about everything else, haha. So please bear with me for a moment as I tee this up: for me, Patrochilles is a ship with tropes I’m naturally extremely attracted to, such as: a king & lionheart dynamic where fierce loyalty, trust, respect, & affection for one another transcends differences in social status/rank; one character who is antisocial/difficult to deal with but shows their tender/soft side with the other character; the deeply compelling tragic love story where one dies and other avenges them/loses the will to live and dies themselves soon after (whether presented as romantic or otherwise, it hits so hard!)

So I say all of this because maybe my favorite thing of all is the fact that Patrochilles is probably one of the oldest extant examples of these tropes (predated perhaps only by the Epic of Gilgamesh which itself was a direct influence on the Homeric epics and Patrochilles story)… and idk to me there’s just something SO COOL about the fact that I can be emotionally affected by this story that people 3000+\- years ago were compelled by, and in all the years in between it has been depicted, discussed, debated over, remixed, & retold by countless people… which means seeking out more Patrochilles reveals everything from plays to paintings to pottery to essays to music to novels to film to animations to video games!!!?!, not to mention of course all the contemporary fan art and writings that are being created all the time by people like me who just love the story & characters and are compelled to share their love with others & create. There’s SO MUCH Patrochilles out there and it feels really special to actively participate in such a historically & artistically rich tradition and to work with what has survived & been passed down, because even separated by thousands of years of time & cultural differences, human pathos is still the same <3

Because the story is so old it’s easy to see them as merely an archtype, in a Romeo & Juliet sort of way—invoking them as a shorthand for the kinds of tropes and dynamics they embody for a different, contemporary ship, which is completely fine & valid of course! But also I find the more I read about them & think about them, these characters themselves & their relationship are so rich and nuanced on their own, and surely that is what makes the story so enduring, so I encourage everyone who sees Patrochilles in their own ship to come over and join the Patrochilles party as well! They’re such a rewarding and inspiring ship— like this is not at all a ship where you gotta dig for crumbs or squeeze blood from a stone because there is SO MUCH TO WORK WITH! The Homeric version alone you could spend the whole rest of your life thinking about! People get whole doctorates so they can do exactly that! Wowee!! Concepts that exist in our cultural consciousness like the idea of “soulmates”, Patrochilles are near the original scene of the crime!! (Plato’s Symposium) and there they are held up as the highest ideal of love!! WOAGH!!!!

So anyway yeah, I feel like there’s so much more I could talk about but I hope this manages to convey even an iota of the passion I feel, and why it’s them in particular I feel passion for. Thank you so much for your ask <3

#emica chat #this week was my two-year anniversary of finishing TSOA and falling down the Patrochilles rabbit hole #you know when you’re late to a fandom but there’s joy in discovering all the works that came before your time #we’re all 2800 years late to Patrochilles fandom but it’s ok because we’re just in time for the new Renaissance #I’ve already published more than 100k words about Patrochilles in two years and it still isn’t enough #ITS NEVER ENOUGH #WILL IT EVER BE ENOUGH??

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rendy-a · 2 years ago

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Hello there! 😆 It's always a pleasure to see you on my dash. (Also, did I mention that we're mutuals now? 👀 Because we are! 😆😆) I hope you're having fun writing for the Pet AU. Your posts are simply a delight to read!

Alright, I'd like to request for headcanons where Riddle, Trey, Silver and Sebek are bought by an owner that is unfortunately, very chaotic.

What kind of chaotic, I'll leave it up to you! Whether it be clumsy, unpredictable, spontaneous...There are so many ways to interpret this kind of owner! 😆

My first mutual, I feel so honored. I’m glad you are enjoying my Pet AU stories. They are so fun to write!

A Chaotic Master with Riddle, Trey, Silver and Sebek

Some say you are disorganized; others say merely whimsical. You yourself just like to think that ideas like organization and plans are more of general suggestions than rules. How will your pets deal with living alongside such a chaotic master?

Every morning Riddle starts his day with daily affirmations. Give me the strength and patience to endure…well you. As a star companion pet, Riddle is adept at making schedules and keeping to them. And you are adept at breaking every well-wrought appointment and plan he makes. Why yes master, I guess it is a lovely day for a walk, but these forms need to be signed. Well, yes, I suppose we could do them later… Please excuse the forced and awkward smile on his face, he is trying so hard to keep his temper in check.

There is also the…unique…way you organize your belongings. Which is to say no organization. Riddle tries to believe you when you say you have a system. He tries so hard but it’s just a random jumble, what sort of system could there be? NO! He must believe, you are the master and therefore always correct! He is sure it’s a very…nice system…

With your poor organization and lack of commitment to your schedule, you cause yourself a lot of problems. This is why you got such a highly recommended expensive companion pet like Riddle in the first place. You know that sometimes you need help to dig you out of your chaos; and he does.

Riddle walks into your office to find you holding your head between your hands, gazing at a piece of paper in shock. How could you have forgotten your taxes are due tomorrow? Don’t panic! Step away from the paperwork and go brew Riddle a strong cup of black tea. Somehow, no matter how big the mess, he always manages to set your affairs in order. He is just like magic! Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far Master, but the sentiment is well appreciated. He tries to sound unaffected, but you can see how his face is nearly scarlet from blushing at your praise.

You are simply no longer allowed in the kitchen. One day, Trey had been baking cupcakes when he was not able to find an oven mitt to remove them. You had decided to give the kitchen a bit of reorganization and things…got a little lost. Eventually, Trey was able to remove the cupcakes from the oven with a dish towel but not until the whole place was filled with smoke and the smell of burnt treats. After that, you mutually agreed to leave the kitchen as Trey’s sole domain.

Trey prefers to not meddle too deeply in your chaotic behavior. He sees you making mistakes and letting your schedule get the better of you but who is he to interfere? He prefers to mind his own business and let you make your own mistakes. That’s part of life! He thinks of you a tiny bit like one of his siblings; someone to watch grow from their mistakes and experiences.

If you have a bad day after missing a deadline or being unable to find something important, Trey is always there to lend you his shoulder to cry on. He will listen patiently and offer you a tart when you are done. Maybe sweets don’t fix everything, but they surely help!

Treats, snacks and meals; Trey always has them ready. He has long since accepted that he can’t control your habit of spontaneously changing your schedule. Instead, he has adapted his own menus to accommodate you. If you suddenly decide that you need to see a movie instead of eating the chicken diner in the oven, well he has already bought ingredients to make it into a soup for tomorrow. If you come home early from work and need a lunch right now, he can take a meal saved for this purpose from the freezer. You are so impressed with how he always seems to be prepared. Ask him his secret and he’ll tell you. Oyster sauce, of course. He is joking…probably.

Silver is a stray you have befriend in the park. Whenever you are in the area, you like to stop by and see if he is around. He often seems to be napping somewhere in the sun. Your schedule is so erratic, Silver never knows when you might return. He worries he might miss one of your visits and he has come to enjoy them very much. On the other hand, he knows you might show up at any time at all. Every time he awakens is a new chance you might be there smiling down at him. Its such a pleasant thought it makes him want to nap right now…

Silver has noticed you have a habit of leaving things behind. You tend to remove your scarf and gloves in one area before deciding to run over to play with him in another. When Silver falls asleep during your game, you decide it’s a good time to go home. Maybe you remember to go back and pick up your things and maybe you don’t. Silver will notice them when he awakens and carry them with him for the next time he sees you. He doesn’t mean to wear your things, but the scarf is warm and smells like you; it’s just so comforting!

Some days you think you’d like to try to officially adopt Silver, but you know it won’t work out. He has mentioned another stray that makes up his family and would never leave him behind. For now, you are happy to sit with him on sunny days, tell him stories and play games. When he wakes up from one of his naps and sees you sitting there waiting, he gives you the softest smile. I dreamed you were here and now here you are. They say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true.

Your ever-changing schedule is a challenge to Sebek. How will he protect you if you are wandering away without telling him? Sebek is beside himself when he returns to your office with a glass of water, and you are gone. He dashes through the house shouting for you. Wakasama! WAKASAMA!!!

You have a tendency to lose your train of thought when writing up notes and lists for Sebek. This can result in some pretty confusing directions for him. Wash the socks, towels, and apples? He doesn’t really get it but if that’s what the master wants, in the machine they all go! He can’t question your orders, after all.

Sometimes, if might be better if Sebek spoke up or challenged you on the things you do but instead, he seems rather impressed with your strange ways. One day you invite him along to run errands with you. You drag him around to a random pattern of stores, offices, and appointments; not an efficient way to accomplish the task at all. In fact, you are only about halfway done with your list when you decide to abandon your errands and return home with the list half incomplete. As soon as you arrive home and get in the door, it starts to rain; how lucky you made it before the storm! You turn to see Sebek gazing at you in awe. HOW FOOLISH OF ME NOT TO HAVE NOTICED YOUR PLAN! THIS IS THE LEVEL OF WISDOM MY MASTER HAS! I MUST KEEP TRAINING MYSELF!

#pet au #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #silver #sebek zigvolt

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saintshigaraki · 4 years ago

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THESE ARE HARD TIMES FOR DREAMERS

title from bones by ms mr

pairing: yandere nanami kento x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

excerpt: You wish you’d studied the stars more, ingrained them so deeply into your psyche that you’d carry the night sky with you, always.

You wish they’d never been stolen from you in the first place.

a/n: nanami if ur reading this i’m free thursday night.

tags: yandere, angst, reader is once again full of rage, nanami love what have you done, overuse of the word hate

warnings: yandere tendencies, obsessive and possessive behavior, slight infantilization, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting (?), kidnapping, slight stockholm syndrome, mention of past suicide attempt

MDNI!

You can’t exactly pinpoint where it all went south. There’s not a specific date that stands out to you when you actively noticed things taking a turn for the worst. It’s like that fable. About the frog slowly being boiled alive. Except, in this case, the frog is you and the boiling water is Nanami. And in this case, this is not some story your mom used to read to you about the dangers of gradual escalation, it’s your life. If you can even call this monotonous hell you’re living a life.

You’ve got to hand it to him, you really didn’t see it coming. Nanami’s always been smart like that. Even now, after everything, or maybe even especially now, after everything, you can’t deny that.

You don’t bother moving from where you lay, sprawled out on the floor, when you hear the first click of many locks signaling that your sweet and doting lover has returned.

You used to try to rush him, or get the jump on him with the heaviest thing you could find. Once you started to get really desperate, you just screamed over his shoulder before he had time to clamp a large hand over your mouth.

None of it ever worked, of course.

It was months ago that you decided hopeless escape attempts simply weren’t worth Nanami’s wrath. He’s faster than you, stronger than you, and far bigger. And he always will be.

When your relationship with Nanami was still somewhat normal (though looking back you can’t help but notice all the things that weren’t normal, you suppose hindsight really can be quite the bitch in that regard) you never really thought too hard about how much stronger he was compared to you. In some ways, it might’ve even been comforting, instead of just horribly depressing. No one could touch you when your hand was tucked in his.

It hurts more than you’d like to admit that something you once found such solace in, is now what stands between you and any semblance of normalcy and shred of happiness.

(And fresh air. God, you miss fresh air so much it hurts, a dull never-ceasing ache deep in your chest. You miss the stars too. Sometimes, when you’re laying on the floor like you are now or in the dead of night when it’s all you can do to swallow down your screams, you try to map out constellations on the ceiling. You’re not very good at it though, and the few constellations you actually remember are starting to slip from your memory like water through fingers, no matter how desperately you try to hold onto them.

You wish you’d studied the stars more, ingrained them so deeply into your psyche that you’d carry the night sky with you, always.

You wish they’d never been stolen from you in the first place.)

It takes Nanami’s slightly disapproving hum to snap you out of your celestial spiraling.

You tilt your head back, just enough to find he’s towering over you. His mouth set in a grim line. His glasses, jacket, and tie have already been discarded, his shirt rolled up to his forearms. The sight of him like this use to make your cheeks burn. Now, it’s hard to rein in the urge to spit at his feet and hiss out every seething thought you have about him burning below the surface.

But the lecture you’d receive after a ‘tantrum’ like that wouldn’t be worth it. He always manages to twist your words, your own feelings, sometimes even your very sense of self, until you can hardly tell what’s up and what’s down. Until you can hardly distinguish your reality from his. Until all you can hear is Nanami’s voice in your ear, reminding you of everything you’ll never be. Of just how helpless you are.

(It’s like his hands are around your throat, choking and choking and choking.)

And once you’re nothing but a sobbing heap on the floor, he’ll pull you into his lap, tuck your face against the curve of his shoulder, and rub soothing circles into your back while saying something along the lines of ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll always be here take care of you’ until your sobs have quieted to the occasional hiccup.

You hate it, how he manages to make you feel so dependent on him. He’s so, so good at knowing just what string to pull so that you’ll unravel completely, just so he can put you back together again with his painstakingly gentle hands.

Nanami’s smart like that.

So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue.

“You’re insistence on laying on the dirty floor when we have a perfectly good couch and bed truly astounds me,” he says, monotone.

You don’t justify his sarcasm with a response, partly to stall what inevitably will come after this and partly to annoy him. Nanami doesn’t like it when you ignore him. It’s one of the few things you have the power to do that manages to get under his skin.

It’s these little rebellions, you’ve found, that make all the difference.

You eye the couch warily, it’s plush and huge. The perfect place for an afternoon nap. Nanami had traded out the smaller one he’d had before, for this one, a few months after you’d started dating. He’d wanted one big enough that you two could comfortably lay together as you slept and he read. You spent countless hours there, tucked into his side, with the setting sun warming your skin.

It’s also where you had told him that you wanted to end things. That he’d gotten too overbearing, too controlling. That you felt suffocated. That you still loved him dearly, but that you couldn’t do this anymore. It’s where you left him as you walked out with only a single bag in hand.

That night you went to sleep in some shady motel room and woke up back in Nanami’s bed with a padded handcuff chaining you to the frame.

These memories from before have a way of coming back to haunt you, they pass through the walls, whispering poison in your ears, caressing your skin one moment just to dig their claws in deep the next.

They mock you as you sit and rot and dream of stars you’ll never see again.

“You’re stalling.” He always manages to sound so distinctly unimpressed with you whenever you don’t follow one of his unwritten rules (and God even if you were actively trying to follow them, there are so many that keeping track of them is nothing short of an impossible feat).

You finally get to your feet, wringing your hands in a way that you know makes you look weak and pathetic. Just the way Nanami likes you so that he can swoop in and take such good care of his little darling love.

“Kento, I-”

“Save it,” he says, already walking towards the bedroom.

You could put up a fight, but all that’d do is make him angry, and then you’d have to do what he wanted anyway and deal with being tethered back to the bed for a few days while Nanami fusses over you like some sort of deranged mother hen.

You make your way over to the bedroom, already starting to strip, ready to get this over with as soon as possible.

You’re half-naked by the time you enter his room.

Even after months and months of this, the humiliation of standing nearly naked in front of him while he stays fully dressed never dulls, it’s still just as sharp and awful as the first time he made you do it.

(It’s like you’re peeling back your own skin, defenseless as he rubs salt in the wound.)

You suppose you should feel lucky that he lets you keep on your bra and underwear. Not that the undergarments he bought you really cover all that much, but in these four walls, beggars can’t exactly be choosers.

He takes off his watch, setting it carefully onto his dresser before walking over to you and starting his nightly inspection for any cuts or bruises you may have received (or given yourself) throughout the day while he was off at work. Off in the world you’ll never see again. Just the thought is enough to make you want to scream.

You used to be able to wiggle your way out of this, before the incident, as Nanami has dubbed it, but now it’d be a cold day in hell before he doesn’t painstakingly go over (almost) every inch of your skin with a careful eye and calloused hands.

His thumb always brushes terribly gently over the scar a few centimeters to the right of one of your jugular veins, where you had attempted to slit your throat after you realized that you would probably never escape this place. Never escape him.

You’d never seen Nanami as scared as when he walked in on you holding a knife to your throat. And you’d never seen him as angry as after he’d wrenched it from your hand using a type of speed that shouldn’t even be humanly possible.

He took a full month off work after that which coincidently also happened to be the worst fucking month of your life.

He cups your face in his large hand and presses a kiss to your temple. A sign that he’s deemed you just as pristine as when he left you and that he’s very pleased by it.

You want to bite his hand. You want to rip his flesh from the bone. You want to hold his heart in your hand and crush it.

(You want to go home. You want to feel the earth beneath your bare feet. You want to sit on a roof in your childhood neighborhood and watch the sun dip below the horizon and drown the world in golden light. You want to step out on an autumn day with winter just around the corner and smell the crispness in the air, feel it claw its way into your lungs.

You want to remember what it’s like to be human.)

Nanami’s lips are on yours before you can think, soft and enticing. You could push him away or just say no. He’d listen. Not even he can apparently justifying forcing you.

(We all have our limits, don’t we?)

But you don’t. You haven’t in a long while. And you hate yourself for it more than you could ever hate him.

He loses his shirt rather quickly and you manage to discard your bra before he lifts you up and tosses you on the bed. You don’t get a second to breathe before he’s over you, monstrous and awful and so terribly beautiful.

He takes a moment to caress your face, his knuckles brushing over your cheek so tenderly that it nearly makes you sick. You’re thankful when he finally says, “Open up.”

You do as he says and in the next second two of his fingers are stuffed into your waiting mouth.

“Suck.”

And you do, without hesitation, because you know what’s coming next. You know that for the next hour or so, there’ll be no denying the fact that you’re alive, that you’re not some ghost haunting these halls. It’ll prove that it’s blood that flows through your veins instead of stone, that you have not yet started to rot in your own skin.

He he pulls his fingers from your mouth without a word and leaves a trail of burning kisses down your sternum and stomach. He wastes no time pulling your underwear off and attaching his calloused thumb to your clit, rubbing tight little circles in a way that has you keening almost immediately.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time you’re wet enough for him to comfortably slip a finger in. Just one of them reaches spots you never quite manage to hit on your own, and you hate how much you love it. It has you moaning, nearly loud enough to drown out the lewd squelching by the time he adds a second finger.

“You’re so, so good for me,” he murmurs, voice rough. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate that the praise has you clenching his fingers in a near vice grip. You hate that he still affects you in any way after what he’s done to you. After what he’s reduced you to.

You don’t have time to stew in your self-loathing before his fingers find that spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

(And this is the reason you don’t push him away.

You’ll never step foot under the night sky again. But here, with his fingers hitting all the right spots in your cunt, you’ll make your own galaxy and pretend that it holds a candle to the real thing.)

With the pace he sets, his constant low grunts of just how lovely you are creaming around his fingers, and the way his thumb never lets up on your puffy clit, you’re coming within minutes, you spasm around his digits so hard that the stars you so love burst behind your tightly shut eyelids.

He eases his fingers out of you and licks them clean, his dark eyes half-lidded and nearly glowing in the dimly lit bedroom, burning straight through you.

You’re the one to look away first. You always are. Shame settling heavily in your gut. Shame that you enjoyed it, shame that you didn’t push him, shame that you’ll do this all over again tomorrow.

When he finally sinks into you, he does it slowly. Sometimes you wish he wouldn’t, sometimes you wish he’d make it hurt. It’d be easier to hate him instead of yourself if he did.

When Kento fucks you like this, chest to chest, there’s not a single part of you not swallowed whole by him.

You hate it.

You hate yourself more for moaning when he changes the angle and starts fucking you so hard and fast that your hands can’t help but scramble for anything to hang on to, they tear down his back, drawing blood which seems to only spur him on to go harder.

“Kento I-- I’m-,” but you can’t finish the sentence, not when you can feel your orgasm teetering on the edge, so, so close that it’s painful, you just need-

“You want to come?” He asks, his voice annoyingly steady.

It’s unfair of him to expect you to be able to answer when he has you nearly folded in half. You can hardly even think.

(But when has Kento ever really been fair?)

“Use your words, darling.” His lips are right against your ear, his tone unbearably condescending, and maybe a bit mocking.

You hate him for asking you to beg.

You hate yourself more for giving in.

“Kento, please,” you whine.

He laughs, low and mean, you feel it in your own chest and for a moment it really is as though you are nothing but an extension of him, a limb left useless without Nanami guiding you. You hate it. You hate it.

Eventually, he relents and brings his thumb back down to your clit, resuming those tight, firm circles, and that’s all you needed to finally push you over the edge.

This time, when you come, there are no stars to comfort you. Just Kento’s eyes, bright and burning.

Your cunt clamping down on his cock is all it takes for him to let out a low groan and still completely inside you, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt is awful in it’s familiarity.

His eyes finally close as he drops his forehead against yours, breathing your air and forcing you to breathe his.

He closes the gap between your lips, gently, sweetly. You can almost pretend for a moment that this is the Kento you knew years ago. Who held you so sweetly and smiled when you smiled.

You don’t realize you’re crying until he kisses your temple tenderly and wipes away your tears. He’s not worried, you cry more often than not after he fucks you. You don’t really want to think about why.

You let your mind wander as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom, where in a minute he’ll run a warm bath for you two to share, then afterwards he’ll dry you off with the utmost tenderness, then dress you himself before carrying you to the kitchen where he’ll set you on the counter as he makes dinner (you won’t be allowed to help, of course) then he’ll force every last bite down your throat if you refuse to eat (he hasn’t had to do that in a long while though), then he’ll have you curl up on his lap, head tucked into his shoulder, as he reads. After about an hour he’ll bring you back to the bathroom where he’ll brush your teeth for you because you never do it right, and then he’ll drag you into bed no later than 10:30 PM so that you can do it all over again tomorrow.

“Do you want the lavender or rose soap today?” Nanami asks you.

You ignore him in favor of trying to remember the details of your galaxy, but it’s already faded away to nothing by the time you close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: i feel like it was painfully obvious that this was my first attempt ever at smut. i’m so sorry yall. i really did try.

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tomurasprincess · 4 years ago

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Kinktober Day 22: Zombie (Voracious)

Day 22: Zombie Title: Voracious Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Noncon, necrophilia (cause zombie), predator/prey, biting, marking, blood play, yandere Note: Thank you so much to @thewheezingwyvern who is always down to help me without batting an eye when I go “so, zombie plague...what are some good symptoms? And yes, the zombie is going to fuck you.” Also, for the love of everything that is unholy, please mind the warnings. Do not read the fic and come to me to tell me how disgusting it was. Trust me, I know. :)

Kinktober Masterlist

The country of Japan is dead. Or at least close enough that the distinction doesn’t matter.

Several months ago, an aggressive virus leaked from a quirk research facility and spread through the population like wildfire. Nobody was informed about what was going on, and nobody was warned when the virus first began to hit the cities. Officials kept it as quiet as possible, hoping to contain the spread before it got out of control. And before anyone knew how big of a mistake they had made.

But it was far too late for any sort of containment. The virus already spread fast in a lab environment, and it was even faster as it tore through an unprepared population.

The first sign of contracting the virus is tiredness and body aches. The infected simply thought they caught a minor illness, and they continued their business as usual, expecting it to go away on its own. But as the virus continues to spread through their body, the tissues start to die and they develop intense fevers and headaches. By the time the infection makes its way to the brain, confusion and outright delirium has begun to occur.

The infected are wild by this point, feral to the point of attacking, biting, and eating the uninfected. The ones who were bitten and survived had the site of their wound swell and turn agonizing to the touch, and they would suffer the same progression as the other infected.

The final stage is always the same though. Once the black rot of plague starts appearing on your skin and spreading like the branches of a tree, it’s too late.

The worst part is that the infected still have use of their quirks, and the devastation has been immense. Super powered heroes and villains with their minds rotting and decaying from infection, losing the ability to distinguish friend from foe. In some areas, the casualties were even worse from fighting than they were from the virus itself.

Somehow, you have managed to keep yourself alive and stay away from the worst in-fighting and the areas with the highest concentration of infected. Still though, it is a surprise to you. You’re simply a quirkless nobody with no way to defend yourself.

You have seen so many better, stronger people die right in front of you, leaving you forced to continue on alone.

You sigh as you scavenge through an old building that was once a store, looking for more supplies. Yours are dangerously low, and your dry mouth and grumbling stomach tells you that you need to find something quickly, before you become too weak to continue on.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear the banging of items hitting the ground from deeper within the store. It might be survivors, or it might be the infected. The thought briefly occurs to you that you need to check to make sure, but you quickly shake it away.

Survivors or not, you didn’t come this far by being careless. But as you inch quietly towards the exit, you see a flash of red eyes from within the darkness as something emerges.

No, not something. Someone.

One of the infected.

It’s clear that he’s in the late stages of infection, the black rot spreading out through his body, but most notably his left leg which he drags limply. He’s wearing what are essentially black rags that flow out from behind him, leaving his chest bare so that you can see more of the black spiderwebs of rot twining outwards.

His eyes zoom in on you, narrowing slightly as you stand there frozen in fear. Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, but is really mere seconds. You break out of your trance first, turning on your heel and running for the door. The infected pursues you instantly, jumping over a table rather than running around it to save time. The move is a sign of intelligence that instantly fills you with dread. By this stage, the infected are usually too confused and delirious to remember such things.

You make it to the door with him hot on your heels. You’ve always considered yourself a fast runner, especially lately, but this is an entirely different story. He’s fast, too fast. The infected are not supposed to be like this, especially not with a bad leg. But yet he is quickly catching up to you as you dart through streets you know so well.

You realize that your only chance is to lose him somehow, as you’re never going to be able to outrun him. Your breath is coming in harsh pants already, a stitch burning in your side as you make a sharp, desperate right turn into an alleyway.

An alleyway with a dead end.

This area was clear just a week ago, but now it looks like an infected hero or villain used their quirk to collapse both buildings in the area, causing massive chunks of cement and debris to block the road out. There is no way to climb over the rubble and no handholds or stairs to use to climb up the buildings. You’re completely trapped.

You whirl around quickly, hoping to get out before the infected catches up with you. But you’re too late. He’s already standing at the entrance of the alley, staring you down with heated red eyes. A sharp burst of awareness fills you as you realize exactly who this is. The leader of the League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura, whose whereabouts have been speculated on for weeks along with the rest of his villain group.

No wonder he’s so fast and so dangerous. The infected retain some level of awareness and ability from the time before, and Shigaraki was one of the most deadly villains in the country.

And if the way he’s acting towards you is any indication, he still is.

You take a step back. He takes a step forward. Another step back. Another step forward. You scan through your chances of getting out of this alive and uninfected, but your mind comes up with nothing.

Your back hits a wall abruptly, and in your split second distraction, the infected is on you. You’re pulled roughly to the ground, hands barely breaking your fall as you land on your front. This is it, you think to yourself, I’m about to be eaten. All this time of running away, of watching people you care about die, all for nothing.

You can’t stop yourself from trembling as you try to brace for the pain of being devoured. But instead, he leans down and buries his face into your neck, sniffing the skin deeply as he pushes your body further onto the ground. His hips are bucking against the curve of your ass, and with dawning horror, you realize exactly what the hard bulge in his pants is.

He grabs your pants and you watch as decay overtakes them and dissolves them into ash. He decays your shirt and bra next, leaving you bare from the waist up and shivering from the cold of his body pressed against you. You’re too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But when he reaches for your panties, that’s when your paralysis finally breaks and fear takes over. You try to lift yourself up from the ground to run, only to hear a snarl as teeth sink into the flesh of your neck.

You go limp with a choked sob, losing any and all desire to try and get away. It’s all over now. That one single moment has doomed you to infection and madness. The pain of the bite is nothing compared to the despair you feel.

He lets out a pleased hum at your sudden obedience, pulling your panties aside as you feel something cold and hard prodding at your entrance. You barely have time to comprehend what’s happening before your pussy is filled with one sharp thrust of the creature’s hips. The infected aren’t supposed to do this, aren’t supposed to have these urges, you think wildly to yourself. This can’t be happening, it’s not possible.. But it is happening. You’re being taken by this creature like a wild animal in a back alley.

And then he is moving, hips slapping against your ass as his throbbing length pounds into you. There is no gentleness, no precision, just deep, feral thrusts that have you unwillingly clenching. He’s thicker than you’re used to, and the pain of your muscles stretching around him causes you to whine from the back of your throat.

This shouldn’t feel good. You should be horrified, disgusted. You should be fighting tooth and nail to get away, even though it’s hopeless since you’re already infected. But the cold of his cock pressing against your warm walls has your head spinning from the contrast.

He hits a soft, spongy spot inside of you, and you let out a squeal as your stomach tightens. The teeth are removed from your neck, only to bite down in another spot on the other side. He ruthlessly breaks skin, causing blood to run down your front and drip onto the pavement below.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, everything so overly sensitive as his cock forces your walls to stretch open even further as he gets rougher. The hands gripping your hips feel warmer than they were before, fingers digging hard enough into your skin to create bruises. The grunts and groans leaving his throat are positively lewd, and he takes his mouth away only to bite down in between your shoulder blades.

Your scream echoes through the alley as the teeth penetrate flesh, his tongue lapping at the bite and taking deep swallows of your blood. You try to imagine yourself somewhere else, anywhere else so that you don’t think of the pressure building up inside of you and the pain from the throbbing bites now decorating you.

Your nails dig hard into the cement below you as you try to ground yourself and ignore what’s happening, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to appreciate that at all. He smacks his hand hard against your ass, keeping his pinky raised delicately off your skin in a way that has you worried about his level of awareness.

Now that your attention is firmly back on him, he bites the back of your neck, and you can’t stop the howl that leaves your throat when you feel your skin break, or the orgasm that wracks your body as you feel blood trail down the column of your neck and down in between your breasts.

Tears run down your face as humiliation burns through you, the shame of cumming around this infected villain’s cock almost too much to bear. Almost worse than the fact that you’ll soon be just like him.

“M-m-m - “

Your eyes widen as you glance behind you, seeing the infected concentrating hard as he tries to get words out. He’s stopped thrusting, as if he’s trying to focus entirely on whatever he wants to say. As he opens his mouth, you see his teeth stained with your blood and the sight shoots straight to your core.

“M-m-mine,” he finally manages to stutter out, “mine.” He forces your head down onto the pavement as he begins to ruthlessly pound into you. The infected don’t speak, they’re not supposed to speak -

“Mine,” he snarls, almost as if he heard your thoughts and is trying to prove you wrong.

You’re oversensitive and wet from your previous orgasm, allowing him to fuck you deeply, hitting your cervix with every thrust. You can feel your pussy dripping your juices all over his cock, and the wet squelching noises that fill the alleyway has you shaking with embarrassment.

“Mine, mine mine,” he chants as he bites again and again, each time pausing long enough to take gulps of your blood. Your head is spinning, lightheadedness from blood loss overtaking you. The ground below you has puddles of your own blood where it drips down, and you briefly think that maybe you really will be eaten right here and now instead of being infected and left to wander.

His hand comes in between your bodies to stroke tight circles against your swollen clit as he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Mine,” he whispers darkly. “Why else would I stumble across the cure for the plague if you weren’t meant to be mine?”

Cure for the plague? That’s not possible, there’s no cure for the plague, and you’re completely quirkless -

He bites down one last time, sinking his teeth into the back of your neck and holding you there like a dog refusing to let go of a bone. You realize why immediately when he groans into your heated skin, warmth spreading through your core as he shoots hot ropes of cum directly against your cervix. The pain of his teeth buried into your flesh has you thrown over the edge as well, legs trembling and eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He removes his teeth from your neck once he’s emptied himself inside of you, letting you go as you collapse onto the ground. You roll over enough to meet his eyes, seeing sharp intelligence and contemplation. The black rot is quickly disappearing, color returning to his skin. Within no time at all, you can no longer tell he was ever infected.

“How - I don’t - I’m quirkless - “

“No, you’re not.” He states it matter of factly, as if it was already known. “You have a quirk, it just didn’t have a purpose until the plague. Your blood carries the cure.”

You consider everything that happened, realizing that the more blood he drank, the more human he seemed. The faster the infection was being cured. He snorts at the look of disbelief and then understanding on your face. “With you on my side, I can remake society exactly the way that I want.”

“I am not on your fucking side! You’re a villain who just - “ You can’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence, but Shigaraki has no issues doing it for you.

“A villain who just fucked you and got you off? Such a dirty girl, getting off around infected cock.”

Your face heats up and you instantly glance away, drawing another chuckle from his throat. “I won’t help you,” you say stubbornly, ignoring his previous words.

“Who said I was giving you a choice?” His fingers dig into your arm as he pulls you off the ground. “You belong to me now, and I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you. Just think about the power I have now. I control who stays infected and who gets cured. No more hero society.” His voice has taken on an excited, almost manic tone as he considers the possibilities.

“Are you - are you going to let them do what you just did?” You whisper quietly, a single tear running down your face at being used the same way by other people.

He instantly scowls at you. “Of course not.”

You perk up just a bit, until you hear his next words.

“I’ll let you be a blood bag, but for everything else - you’re mine. And I don’t like to share.” He begins to drag you back the way that you came, walking with purpose.

“Now come along. We have so much work to do.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @ichor-and-symbiosis, @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @dee-madwriter, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main

#kinktober 2020 #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki #mha x reader #mha smut #yandere mha #bnha x reader #bnha smut #yandere bnha #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober #tw: noncon #tw: necro #tw: blood play

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cazimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Every day, it feels like I've lost them again

Synopsis: Sam shouts at Zemo for the things he has done. Though Zemo doesn’t show it the words hurt him deeply. Later on the reader finds Zemo and talks to him about his past.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Bit of angst, Sad Zemo, mentions to his family’s death and his attempted suicide

Author note: I had plans for another Zemo one shot but then I watched a sad Zemo edit which made me cry and here we are

Cross posted on my Ao3 account under the same name

MASTER LIST

The streets seemed silent as you sadly walked home. The only sound was your footsteps dragging along the floor. The silence between all of you was piercing. Today had been an enormous failure, and you all were feeling it weighing down on you. Pushing down your hopes for things to improve. Zemo had somehow found out where the flag smashers would be, from a trusted source, he said, so you all went charging off to talk to them. It was a trap. Zemo didn’t know it was a trap either, though Sam still believed otherwise. You all had barely got out of there safely. It had been close, too close for your liking.

“There’s always tomorrow,” Zemo says, hating the stone cold silence coming from everyone.

“But there’s not,” Sam spits back angrily, “That was the one proper chance we could've had to talk to Kali, and we failed”

“You shouldn’t be so pessimistic,” Zemo argues back, rolling his eyes.

“Pessimistic. Are you for serious, pessimistic,” Sam says shaking his head at Zemo, “You hear this guy I’m the pessimistic one”

“Leave it Sam” Bucky mutters trying to push him along, but Sam refuses.

Sam steps towards Zemo, standing just a few centimeters away from his face, his eyes glaring daggers at him. Zemo stops walking, clenching his jaw and tilting his head to stare back at Sam, not breaking eye contact.

Both you and Bucky glance at each other, not really sure if you should stop this or let it happen.

“You could have led us to our deaths today, Zemo, which I am sure was your intention. You make it clear that you wouldn’t hesitate to see any of us off to our funerals. All because you got butt hurt about the avengers preventing Ultron from destroying the earth at the cost of your country.”

The breath leaves your mouth as the words slip out of Sam’s mouth. Your lips, slightly ajar, turn to look at Sam. He’s breathing heavily, glaring at Zemo. Zemo’s lips curled down into an angry frown and his eyebrows furrowed. You could see his fists curl up, something Bucky must have noticed as well, and he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder to pull him away from Zemo.

“Sam this isn’t the time”

Sam finally gives in and pulls back, but Zemo steps forward, grabbing onto his jacket. Bucky reaches for his gun, but Zemo waves his hand at him, motioning him not to.

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Sam.” is all he says, letting go of Sam’s jacket roughly and storming off.

It would be hours later till you saw him again. During that time your mind was often thinking back to Zemo. When you really thought about it, you realised you knew nothing about him. Heck, until recently you didn’t know he was a Baron. All you had been told was that he was a Sokovian who wanted to split the avengers up because of what they did to his country. Being a Baron, you supposed that made it more personal for him. Still, it felt like something was missing. Something didn’t add up.

You laid in one of the many guest rooms tossing and turning while all these thoughts flooded your mind. Eventually you gave up on the idea of ever getting sleep tonight and got up. If you weren’t sleeping, you might as well get some midnight snacks. Heading into the main room, you notice the door leading to the back was open, letting a chilly breeze float in.

Heading over to check it out, your eyes lie upon Zemo sitting on top of a fallen over tree trunk in the back patio, looking up at the night sky. His coat was wrapped around him to keep him warm, and his face was expressionless as he looked up to the night sky that was scattered with the stars. He hadn’t noticed you staring at him, his mind was far from where his body was.

After a few moments of just staring at him, you broke the silence, “Zemo?”

His head instantly snapped to you, surprised to have been caught unaware.

“Oh, hello y/n, can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, taking his question as an invitation to go over and sit next to him, “No, to many thoughts in my mind to go to sleep”

“Ah, a common problem for an insomniac”

“I assume you have similar reasons, since you are out hear”

He looks away from you, smiling weakly at the floor, “Yes something like that, sleep comes rarely to me”

Your eyes flutter down to the ground, not really sure what to say, “I’m sorry to hear that” you whisper

You both sit there in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t an awkward silence like what you were used to. No. It was a comfortable silence. You were both thankful just to have someone beside you at that moment. You shudder slightly as the wind picks up, making the hairs on your arm stand up. Zemo notices and slowly shrugs off his coat, placing it around you. You smile politely up at him in thanks.

“May I ask what your thoughts were?” Zemo asks gently, glancing back over to you

“You probably think it was about our failure, right?” you say and Zemo nods his head slightly

“They weren’t, actually. I didn’t suspect us to accomplish anything. It seemed to good to be true. No, I was thinking about what happened after. Between you and Sam”

Zemo’s face instantly shifted, his mouth pulling into a frown and his eyebrows furrowing, “Ah” is all he says

“What Sam said was way out of line. I can’t understand the pain you must feel about losing Sokovia”

Zemo hums to let you know he heard but doesn’t say anymore, his gaze just returns to the sky.

You didn’t want to push him too far. Over this time you had gotten to know him and almost considered him a friend, but you couldn’t help but be curious. You wanted to know more about him.

“But there’s more isn’t there. Something we don’t know,” you say gently

You can see him swallow and his fingers dig into his palms as he tenses at your question.

After a moment he finally responds, “Yes, you’re right. I... I had a family who died that day. My father, wife and child. I told them to go out of the city to the countryside. That was where my father lived, you see. I had to stay behind as I was a part of this Sokovian kill squad. Even as royalty, I still had duties. I had faith in the avengers. They would sort everything out. But they didn’t. When the battle was one they just returned home, leaving us with the hard task of finding all the dead. I assumed my family would be safe, yet it took me two days after to find their bodies.”

Your body gets overwhelmed with coldness as you hear his story. The memories of the battle flooded your mind and you could feel a bitterness creep into your mouth. You could have stayed behind to help. Why didn’t you? Your eyes water slightly as you sympathise with him and feel the guilt lie on your soul.

“Oh god Zemo, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked,” you are quick to respond

“No...it’s okay. If I didn’t want to tell you, I wouldn’t have said anything”

You look up to the night sky and reflect over his words. All the pain that Zemo must feel, holding onto, and you did not know. None of you did. You were sure if Sam knew he wouldn’t have said the things he did. You knew what Zemo did was wrong, but damn you couldn’t help but empathise with him.

“If you want…” you start, hoping what you were choosing to ask wouldn’t be going too far, “would you like to tell me about them?”

Zemo finally looks away from the sky, his eyes looking to the ground. He swallows again, slightly sniffing before speaking.

“My Son, Carl, he was four when he... when he died. He always did this cute thing where if he didn’t like the food on his plate he would pretend he was gifting the food to you to show his love for you”

You chuckle slightly thinking about it, “That does sounds cute”

“He was the most precious thing in existence. He always wanted a sibling like his friends had. He loved the idea of being an older brother. Every morning when the mail arrived, he asked if he had a brother or sister delivered to him. Me and my wife… we were planning on having more kids. We knew he would've made the best big brother. We hoped for a girl, you know, to even things out”

“What was she like?”

“She was so beautiful. Like the goddess Venus. Many men tried to win her affection, but she settled for me. I had never felt like a luckier man. She was so kind, so generous, so loving. My perfect angel”

The tears that had been threatening to fall from Zemo’s eyes broke the dam and fell down his cheeks.

“If I could, I would give up everything I have, everything I own just to hold them in my arms again”

A sob breaks out of him and he holds his hand up to his mouth as his eyes crinkle up as more tears fall. He tries to wipe them away, but he can’t stop crying. You put your arm around him and pull him into a hug which he gladly accepts. He wraps his arms around you and buries his head into your shoulder as he sobs.

“I miss them so much”

You say nothing, just rub your hand on his back reassuringly. He takes a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I tried to end my life after I completed my revenge. So I didn’t have to live another day without them. But I failed. I spent the next seven years without them. And everyday it feels like I’ve lost them again,”

“What do you plan to do… after we have finished here?”

You can feel Zemo’s body tenses in your arms as you ask that question, “I think you know, y/n”

You pull back from him to look into his blood-shot eyes. “Zemo, I know this is so very hard for you, but please don’t. I know with your wit and cunning you can think of a way to escape all of this safely. I will not pretend to know your wife, but if she is anything like what you have told me about, I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to either. She would want you to find some happiness in life,”

Zemo finally moves away from you, standing up off the tree log and taking one last look at the sky before then looking back at you. He’d stopped crying by now but the tear stained cheek and dark under eyes were evidence of what had just occurred. The side of his lip tried to twitch up into a slight smile but it faltered,

“Thank you, y/n”

Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @jayxkelsi @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail @yallgotkik

#zemo #baron zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #tfatws #sam wilson #marvel #daniel brühl #mcu #zemo x you #i love zemo #helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #yes this is about zemo

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years ago

Note

I had a dream about fishing last night (and I hate fishing) but it made me think of mechanic Frankie taking reader up to his secret cabin that he owns that they had no idea about for a first real weekend getaway, just them, and reached them how to fish. And he’s sitting there relaxing looking over at them and just thinking “wow, I get to be this happy again.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: You check Frankie out quite a few times in this, kissing, we’re getting there (if you know what i mean), Frankie doubting himself. Also please don’t kill me for the ending. I have another ask I’m saving it for.

The girl scout story in this fic is completely true lol.

A/N: This got a little longer than I expected clocking in at a little over 2.5k but it’s all just fun and flirty and a little sexy too.

[mechanic!frankie masterlist]

Frankie was proud of himself. After years of being single, of not even dating, he was a boyfriend and a damn good one if he went by what you told him. You loved all the dates and places he took you, but there was one place he still hadn’t shown you. He was afraid to.

He wanted to take you away for the weekend, but he was afraid that it was too soon to ask you for something like that. He didn’t want to scare you away by asking you to join him at his cabin this weekend. Maybe you would think that he wanted something from you. Yes, that something. The thought alone made his face get hot and he quickly pushed it from his mind. It wasn’t what he wanted from you at all even if you two were up there alone. Just waking up beside you sounded nice.

“Frankie, are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently. “Your ice cream is melting.”

He looked down. “Oh!” He quickly brought the cone to his mouth and licked the mess from the side of the cone and his hand. You looked away, pretending to be distracted by the birds in the sky.

“Something on your mind?” You looked at him out the corner of your eye to make sure his tongue was back in his mouth. When you saw that it was, you turned to him and touched his thigh for reassurance.

“No...well, yeah, but...uhhh...” He sighed and looked down at his ice cream again. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Well, ask me.” You waited with bated breath. When he didn’t speak, you checked your watch. “You’re gonna have to head back to the garage soon. You wanna talk about it later?”

“No. If I don’t do it now then I never will.” He took a deep breath and looked you in the eye. “Would you maybe want to...go away this weekend? W-With me?”

“Go away? Where?” you asked excitedly.

“I have a cabin near the lake. Maybe we can...fish and stuff,” he said nervously. “You don’t have to. I know this is weird. I shouldn’t be asking you to go away with me so soon and-”

“I’d love to go,” you told him then licked your ice cream. His eyes wandered to your lips then back up to your eyes. He was quiet until he realized what you said.

“Wait...what?”

“I said I want to go to your cabin this weekend. I need a little getaway. It will be nice to really have you to myself,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds selfish.”

“Selfish? I’m flattered,” he chuckled. “You can be as selfish with me as you like.”

You turned to him again. “I can’t wait to see your cabin.”

“I can’t wait to show you.”

It had been so long since Frankie had been up to his cabin with someone. After his wife died, he rarely made the drive and when he did, it was to be alone. He would sit there and wallow the entire time, missing her, missing what he had. Now he had you—someone to share it with and happy to do so.

He waited by your door as you scrambled around grabbing a few more things. You finally walked over to him, bag in hand, and smiled. “I think I’m ready now.”

“I’ll take that for you.” He took the bag you were holding, sneaking in a quick kiss as he did.

“Thank you, sir.” You walked out side-by-side and he carefully placed your bag in the back of his truck.

“It’s a little over an hour away. I hope you don’t mind long drives,” he said as he climbed into the truck.

“Are you kidding? I love long drives.”

He beamed at you. How did he get so lucky to find someone who loved the things he did again? Better yet, what did he do to deserve this again? He put on his aviators and started the truck as you sat back and smiled out the window.

On the drive, Frankie discovered that he would never hear a better sound than your laugh. He would never tire of the way your voice went up a few octaves when you got excited. No one had made him smile that way in so long.

“Oh my God, babe look...horses!” You grabbed his arm excitedly. He wondered if you realized you had called him babe.

“I see ‘em,” he chuckled. You turned to him and looked him up and down. “What?”

“I like that shirt on you.” Your eyes trailed down to his neck and bit of exposed chest since he hadn’t buttoned the shirt up completely. The shirt was black with what looked like palm trees and water patterned all over. He had the sleeves rolled up, so you got a good look at his forearms as well. You realized that you had been ogling the poor man and quickly looked up only to see a smirk on his lips.

“I can buy you one just like it if you want,” he offered.

“Nah, I’d rather just see it on you.” Since when were you so flirty?

Frankie had never felt better about himself. As he carried the bags into the cabin, he couldn’t stop smiling. He stopped to look at himself in the mirror as you looked around outside. The shirt did fit him pretty well and the undone buttons gave him sort of a bad boy look. He pushed the aviators up onto his head and winked at himself.

“Frankie!” you called, and he jumped, clearing his throat as you walked into the cabin.

“Yeah?”

“It’s so beautiful up here.” You ran into his arms and hugged him. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He smiled as he put his arms around you. “Thank you for letting me.”

“So...fishing first?” you asked, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“Yeah, if you want. You don’t want to rest first?”

“Nope. I wanna see everything.” You walked back outside and waited for him. “Are we walking to the lake?”

“Sure, just let me grab the stuff. By the way, I didn’t stop for bait so we might have to dig for our own,” he warned.

“Okay! Need me to carry anything?”

“No ma’am.”

You watched as he grabbed the fishing poles and then reached for something higher up. You had no idea what it was because you were too busy ogling the man again—the little bit of his lower back that was exposed as he reached up, the way the shirt stretched over his shoulders and back, the sinew of his tanned forearms.

“You coming?” he asked, and you blinked a few times.

“I-what? I mean, yeah.” You had to take a few quick steps to catch up to him so that you could walk beside him. You both kept catching each other staring before looking away, laughing. When the lake came into view, you gasped.

“Like it?”

“It’s perfect, Frankie.” You glanced back at him happily and he smiled.

“Before we do anything else, we gotta get bait. Good thing it rained a few days ago.” He placed the fishing rods down gently on the dock before walking back and looking under rocks and digging in the dirt for worms. “There’s a bunch over here,” he called, and you ran over holding a few of your own.

“Got some too.” You placed them in the small bucket Frankie carried.

Once you both had enough, Frankie walked out onto the dock and kicked off his shoes and socks before rolling his jeans up. You did the same then closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. The air was so clean and fresh.

“Do you know how to fish?” he asked.

“Well, at Girl Scouts camp we used to find long, sturdy sticks and tie fishing line to them then tie on the hook. One time, we couldn’t find worms, so I playfully took some bread and put that on the hook, and I actually caught a fish!”

“Girl Scouts camp, huh? How long ago was that?” he joked.

“Hey!” You nudged him as he laughed. You loved making him smile and laugh just to see that dimple—the deepest dimple you had ever seen.

“Well, would you like me to show you how to use a fishing rod?” he asked, and you nodded. “Okay...do you mind if I...” He moved behind you and put the fishing rod in your hand.

“N-No, I don’t mind.” You could feel his warmth radiating against your back. With each breath he took, you could feel his chest and stomach move against you.

“Right...so...” His voice was so close to your ear, you wanted to turn so badly but then his lips would be right there, and it would be so tempting. “Get yourself a good grip.” He guided your hand and squeezed it lightly. “Like so...”

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Stay just like that.” He moved away and you already missed his warmth. He knelt to put a worm on your hook then stood behind you again. “Pull back nice and slow and...” He moved your arms back with his then swung forward expertly. “There we go.”

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” He wrapped his arms around you and the dock swayed with the water, making you both sway along with it. It was relaxing and comforting and what made it even better was that his arms were around you.

You wished you two could stay that way forever.

You stomped into the cabin, pouting like a petulant child.

“Sweetheart, there’s no reason to be upset. Even pros don’t catch fish all the time,” he said, kicking off his boots by the door.

“But...I wanted to,” you complained. When you turned to him, he was grinning. “It’s not funny.” But it was and you both started laughing.

“Maybe next time,” he told you.

“Next time? You wanna bring me again?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course.” He stood there looking at you and you at him. How many times were you going to stare at him today? “Still like this shirt on me?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you murmured as you made your way over to him and kissed him. Hard. He made a sound of surprise but kissed back in earnest. He held you close, his soft lips claiming yours. You made him stumble backwards until he hit one of the wooden columns in the middle of the room. He grunted and his hands moved slowly to your lower back. Your fingers tangled in his curls, and you pressed your body against his even more.

Frankie couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed that way or even wanted to kiss someone that way. Your body fit so perfectly against his that he had quietly wondered if you were made for him. He’d never forget the way you gasped against his lips when his hands slid under your shirt and touched that soft skin for the first time. He’d never forget how your lips looked as you pulled away and just looked at him before slowly moving your thumb along his lips.

“You have...lovely lips,” you told him before kissing him again.

He was feeling things he hadn’t felt in so long and... he was embarrassed. As you pulled away to kiss along his jaw and down his neck, he felt as though he would stop breathing.

“Wait...wait...,” he breathed, and you stopped immediately.

“I-I’m sorry, Frankie.” You backed away, looking down at the floor.

“I just...I need some air.” He swallowed hard then walked past you and out the door. He took a deep breath then cursed quietly as he kicked at a rock in front of him. “You fucking idiot.”

You walked upstairs full of regret. You had initiated that kiss and it had made him so uncomfortable that he had to leave the cabin.

As you showered, you thought of all the ways you could make things right again if he even wanted to keep seeing you after this. That thought scared you the most. You didn’t want to lose Frankie, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe you did.

It was a good thing you had separate rooms because that would give him the space he needed away from you. You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of yourself. You made sure to stay in the room for the rest of the day, settling into bed when the moon was high in the sky.

As soon as you closed your eyes, Frankie knocked on your door and you sat up. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Sure.” You rolled out of bed and threw a hoodie on over your pajamas. The door opened and Frankie stood in the doorway, filling it with his broadness. “Come in.”

“I’d like to explain myself,” he started.

“Frankie, you don’t have to do that. I overstepped and I apologize.”

“Overstepped? No, I just got nervous. I panicked. It’s been so long since I felt...that way. I was embarrassed, still am. But I appreciate that you stopped when I needed you to.” He smiled and you nodded.

“Of course I did. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable.”

“Oh?”

“I just knew what it would lead to and...it’s been so long for me. I don’t want to disappoint you,” he admitted. His face was on fire.

“Disappoint me? You could never do that, Frankie.” You moved closer to him slowly.

“The truth is that I feel like I need to learn how to do that all over again and I should know, you know? I was married. Three years though...” He shook his head.

“There’s no rush. I’d be happy just having you hold me until I fall asleep.”

He scoffed at himself. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do.”

This time he walked up to you and kissed you. “I want to be worthy of you,” he said against your lips.

“You are.”

“I want...to make love to you,” he confessed.

You pulled away and looked him in the eye. “You can...” He kissed you again before you could speak. When he stopped, you spoke. “...but only if you are comfortable. Remember, there’s no rush.”

“Can we just take it slow, take our time?” he asked.

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you,” he said before kissing you some more. You don’t know how long you two stood there just kissing, all you knew was that you could do this every day for the rest of your life. “So...I may be a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure I’d like to be doing this in bed. If that’s okay.”

You grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. You both sat on it and looked at each other before laughing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He cupped your face with one hand. “I’m ready.”

frankie taglist: @strangelittlenobody @ithinkimhardcore @damerondala @arellanofelixboys @skvatnavle @tobealostwanderer @surfsup666 @gingib @paperbag33 @anothersherlockian @grogusmum @lestradeslover @lazybeeches @shameless-h @over300books @pinkrosethorne @petty-as-usual-darling @icanbeyourjedi @findhimfives @djvrins @queridopascal @sweet-black-magic @tayloramato @ks04 @hnv-escape @linnie0119 @hb8301 @the-bird-suit @barnes-and-bitch @noromeojuliet @slugbuggie @astoryisaloveaffair @swol-bear @jeeperky @littlefairygirlx @appleheard @allthingsnarcos @darlingdin @hunnambabe @triggerhappyflygirl @stardust-galaxies @fuck-goes-on @dwarfplanet69 @the-page-mistress @mikahowl @dandywinchesterbras @xserenax-13

general taglist: @jedi-mando @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @mitchi-c @themarcusmoreno @punkpascal @saltywintersoldat @pedro-pascal-owns-my-entire-ass @f0rever15elf @loki-098 @feelmyroarrrr @thirstworldproblemss @sarahjkl82-blog @phoenixhalliwell @artsymaddie @freeshavocadoooo @silverwolf319 @beesting77 @mrsparknuts @anatanotegami @doin-stuff @lilkermit14 @softboiipascal @pedropascaldice @insomniamamma @heresathreebee @cyaredindjarin @thatgirlselectryc @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @darnitdraco @ladylothlorien @deeplyjohnnydepp @bunniwarrior @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @meghanjhegwood @waywardmando @ew-erin @mynameis3-14 @kingpascals @martellthemandalor @dazedrhapsody @kandomeresbitch @frankiemorales @girlwithanewplan @notabotiswear @liveloudwriteloud @feel-it-on-the-way-home13 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @roxypeanut @marvelousmermaid @empress-palpat1ne @hdghty @pedrospunk @its–fandom–darling @littlebopper96 @bison-writes @tumblogbykarapaloma @burrshottfirstt @amneris21 @pretty-brown-eyess @rosiefridayrogersunday @havenforafrazzledmind @miulola @disasterhann @liviiii98 @jaime1110 @cjillian97 @abicokiyaa @we-willcryinthemoonlight @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @salome-c @virtualxjournality @lv7867 @coaaster @borderlinedindjarin @anxiousandboujee @bitchylittleredhead @the-wishmonger @callsigncatfish @jitterbugs927 @chasingdreamer @antisocialthat70sshow @maievdenoir

*If your url is crossed out its because tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. sorry!

#frankie baby #mechanic!frankie #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #headcanon #Anonymous

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miyaniacs · 4 years ago

Text

The One Night Stand pt.2

Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader / Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Part 1 ; Part 3

A/n: I AM SO OVERWHELME. Thank you for all the reblogs, i know around 10 aren’t that much but for me they really are especially in about just a day. I can’t express how thankful i am, your positive feedback is the reason why i already wrote the part 2. I do kinda plan to make a pt 3 too Haha. I‘m always open for any kind of feedback and my dm‘s / ask is also always open if any of you want to thirst or just talk haha.

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of alcohol and a blackout (nothing illegal happened!), public sex & fingering, Toji being the best dad ever (not). and typos, i was just too lazy to read through this mess lol probs going to correct it tomorrow.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader , Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Form: oneshot / short story

“Ohhh that’s why you moaned his name last night.” Tojo whispers in your ear.

Shocked you turn around and look at him, your mouth wide open.

“Careful, you don’t want the others to notice anything, do you?” He smirks. Quickly your trying to act normal again, but your mind is racing.

You did not do this.

No.

Never.

NEVER EVER.

You got drunk last night to get over the fact that Gojo was sleeping over at some random girls place.

You got drunk last night to get those thoughts out of your mind.

You got drunk last night to get over the fact that you are in love with your best friend.

And you hooked up with Toji last night to convince yourself that you don’t have any feeling for Gojo.

You simply couldn’t moan Gojos name.

That would mean that he was still present in yours thoughts.

While some other guy was fucking you.

This is bad.

This is sooo bad.

Especially since you knew that Gojo only sees you as a best friend... a best friend without the benefits.

Yeah yeah, sure how should you know if he only sees you in this way.

You two are always flirting...

But this is just an act.. a game.. you are both pretty flirty- it’s just natural.

Also ... we’re talking about Gojo,..., one of the biggest hoes you knew. If he was slightly interested in you, he’d already made a move on you.

“Hey Y/n, care to finally tell us what happened last night?” Nobara asks and you snap out of the conversation you were having with yourself in your mind.

“Oh yes pleaseeeeeee tell us all the details.” Gojo coos and earns a warning glare from you.

“Come one, y’all aren’t young enough to not piece one and one together and figure out what she was up to last night.” Toji laughs.

“We know that she has one ... or more than one.. Hickey on her neck.. BUT WHO?” Nobara reply’s and looks at you with a smirk.

“You really think I remember his name?” You laugh, “ I woke up in his flat and then went straight out of it. All I know is, that it wasn’t worth the hickeys.” You joke.

“Oh so your hungover ass, still remembers how bad he was in bed?” Gojo teases and throws a quick glance at Toji, signaling him that he knows.

“Definitely... worst fuck I ever had, I truly doubt i came even once.” You sneer.

“Well... at least you learned your lesson now. Don’t get drunk and fuck a stranger.” Nanami sighs. “Kids, learn from her. Don’t make the same mistakes.” He looks over at the Yuji, Nobara and Megumi.

“Yes, I wouldn’t say that, for me it always went well... but that could also be because I’m just good ... at everything.” Gojo winks, “Y/n just sadly got a guy that ... didn’t knew who to ... please a women.” He says with an arrogant smirk.

“Oh really, was it that bad Y/n?” You feel a hand on your thigh, squeezing it.

“Uhm... I mean, I can’t really remember it..” you stutter, feeling Toji hand move up on your thigh.

“Well.. we should switch the topic now.” Nanami caught and shots us a glare, meanwhile Tojo whispers: ”You should be able to remember this morning right? Or do I need to show it to you again tonight.” His hand moves under the hem of your skirt. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying your best to not let any unwanted sound escape your lips. The only person that could see what’s happening under the table right now was Gojo, but it looks like he didn’t notice it.

You feel Toji’s long fingers brush over your panties, giving you some slow stokes before he decides to settling his fingers right over your clit, drawing random shapes and giving it some light pinches.

“Your fucking son sits across from us.” You hiss at him and grab his hand, trying to stop him.

“Then better be quiet.” He smirks and pinches your clit hard, truly unaffected by your hand... to be honest, you don’t really try to remove his hand... and he knows you’re enjoying this.

The muscles on your inner thighs tense and you bite your cheek even harder.

You’re close and he knows it, it’s not hard to know, judging by how wet your panties are.

You look around trying to see any glimpse of suspiciousness form one of the others on the table, but everyone is having a full hearted conversation, hell even Toji is joking around with Megumi right now. How is he able to act this way, while your sitting here struggling to make a some sort of decent conversation with Nobara.

“Ok girly look. I - I tell you, this one dress would be perfect for you.” You say and force a smile.

“But I already know that it will be sold out, when I’m able to go to the store.” She whines.

“Then... How about we go tomorrow after practice? I’m sure Gojo doesn’t have a problem with that, right, G- GOJO.” His name left your lips waaay too loud. But what were you supposed to do, when Toji suddenly puts three of his fingers inside of you, curling them at just the right spot.

“Again... wrong name babygirl.” Toji whispers.

“I can hear you, you don’t have to scream.” Gojo says annoyed.

Gojo‘s POV

Do they really think I don’t notice. I‘m just trying to be nice to Megumi. That’s the only reason I don’t say anything... I just want to save him from the realization that Y/n, the women he adores, was fucking his dad. Or most likely he‘s fucking her right now.

The audacity.

And that she is letting him doing it???

I thought higher of her.

... wait what am I thinking.

Why should I shame her, for doing something I already did ... but why is she doing it with him... and not with me.

I want to make her squirm just by my touch, teasing her in public... even before tonight I was sure that she‘d like that. I know her ... I know her better than this old fucker does.

My hand clenched around the glass of my drink.

Concentrate on the conversation Yuji and Nanami have.

Stop focusing on the soft sloppy sounds coming from beside you.

Stop focusing on the way her legs shake... how the fabric of her skirt lifts up and down... how her hand grabs my arm... wait what?

Why is she grabbing my arm?

Your POV

You feel your climax Coming closer and closer.

Your eyes roll to the back, your eyelids flutter, and somehow your hand finds its way to Gojos arm.

You dig your nails in his soft skin, biting your lips, trying your best to stay quiet.

Your breath stuck in your throat and your mouth opens in a silent scream, your nails digging harder in Gojos skin, surly drawing blood. He should have really had his,..., don’t touch me shield up.

Trying to catch your breath you let go of Gojos arm, his hand immediately moving over yours, while his tumb stocks the back of your hand.

Meanwhile Toji has a smug smile on his face as he removes his fingers and moves them towards his lips, licking them clean, while glancing over at you.

“Uhm.. Y/n... are you okay?” Megumi asks confused, “You look... strange.” He raises an eyebrow.

Before you can answer, Gojo already opens his mouth. “Her hangover kicks in... I think it’s better if she leaves now.”

You look at him, with a thankful smile playing on your lips.

“ I was about to leave anyways, I can take you home, not sure if you arrive home save.” Toji gets up and pulls you up with him an arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up.

“No need to. I can take care of MY best friend.” Gojo says sternly and pulls you out of Tojis grip, now holding you close to him.

Toji raises one of his eyebrows and smirks.

“What’s wrong Gojo, you don’t trust me with her?”

“Yes.” He answers coldly.

“How’s that. Don’t think I can control myself?” He laughs.

“Think? I know you can not.”

“Please, she’s a grown women, why would it be a problem if anything happens between me and her?” He smirks. You look confused between him and Gojo, not knowing what the fuck happens.

“Because your my DAD and she is my friend/ teacher.” Megumi sighs, clearly embarrassed.

“Because I don’t want her to” Gojo huffs and you quickly wiggle out of his grip.

“YOU DONT WANT ME TO?” You cross your arms and look at him.

“Yes. You don’t have to walk around fucking with random man, way too many years older than you.”

“Oh you are one to talk. How many this week mhm? Three?” You hiss.

“Please that’s different.” He sighs and scratches his neck, “ and no, only two, i actually spent two nights with the last one.” He smiles.

“OHHHH Two nights. And you forbid me to spent two nights with the same guy?”

To underline your words, Toji wraps an arm around your waist and rests his head on top of yours.

“What’s wrong Gojo? Jealous?” He chuckles deeply, “Come, let me get you home and take care of you babygirl.” Lifting his head, he guides you away from the table and out of the bar.

Throwing one last glance over your shoulder you see a shocked Megumi, mouth hanging wide open, Yuji and Nobara looking confused from you back to Megumi. Nanami has his head in his hands. And Gojo mouths you a: “Please don’t leave.”

His sunglasses in his hand, showing a mixture of emotions in his eyes.

Your heart tightens when you look into his eyes.

“Don’t look at him. I promise he’ll be confessing to you in a matter of time.” Toji whispers and pulls you outside.

“You- You planned this?!” You ask him shocked.

“Please his feelings for you are pretty obvious. Especially how jealous he acted, i thought he’d screamed that he loves you right there at the bar.” He throws his arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer. “Let daddy help you, yes?”

“Please don’t call yourself Daddy.” You groan.

“But I thought you liked that name for me?”

“I really need to stop getting drunk.” You whine, earning a loud laugh from him.

“But.. are you sure... about Gojo... I really do-“

“Yes. Yes he has feelings for you, which aren’t just the ones friends have.” He rolls his eyes annoyed.

“But before he gets to you, lets have some fun yeah?”

“Thank you.” You say and grab the hand, hanging over your shoulder, kissing it.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing this to get on his neves, not for you to be happy. I wouldn’t mind fucking you for some more days.” He smirks, lucky for him, the night hides the soft blush on his cheeks.

With his arm wrapped around you, you guide him to your apartment.

“Hey, but never finger fuck me again when your son is on the same table.” You huff.

“Why not, you basically told him that you and I are fucking.” He laughs.

“Fuck.”

Taglist: @laceymorganwrites @ereeeeehhh @gojocumslut @channieboiiii @wingedcreatorgoopwagon ( I tagged some of uou who reblogged it, I hope this was okay )

#jjk toji #jjk hcs #jjk oneshots #jjk gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader #gojo x you #toji x you #toji x reader #toji headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

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4ragon · 4 years ago

Text

Sorry, someone sent me a DM and I couldn’t figure out if they wanted to be credited so I’m doing it this way. If you want me to like tag or something just let me know and I will.

Alright so about Kristoph Gavin’s Black Psyche-Locks

Kristoph Gavin is my favorite villain, one of my favorite villains in any game. He’s a fun character. He’s charismatic, and ruthless, and yet I think if you really dig down into him, he’s still, ultimately, a very human monster at the heart of it all. But why is that? What is it about Kristoph Gavin I find so interesting? What secret motivations lie at the heart of this man that would drive him to murder, drive him to attempt to erase a literal child? Well, let’s explore this man in a little more depth, shall we?

So let’s start at the beginning. The Black Psyche-Locks. Kristoh’s Psyche-Locks were the first of their kind to appear in the series. When pressed, Kristoph explains he killed a stranger because he was “an evil human being.” It isn’t until Phoenix’s final accusation that suddenly, the Psyche-Locks click into place. “...I have to know. Why did you kill Shadi Smith? No... Zak Gramarye!?” Above all else, the reason Kristoph would go so far as to kill, his motive, is what prompts the Psyche-Locks to appear. But why, you ask? Isn’t it obvious? He killed Zak Gramarye for a whole host of reasons. To cover his tracks. To get revenge for being snubbed. And yes, those are all correct. Yet they fail to answer the most important question of all: What exactly is Kristoph keeping from himself?

According to Pearl Fey, “A red Psyche-Lock protects a secret that a person is consciously trying to hide. If the person folds under questioning, the lock breaks and the truth comes out... But a black Psyche-Lock protects a secret from the deepest place in a person's heart... ...a secret that that person isn't even consciously aware of… According to my research... A black Psyche-Lock is like a heavy chain wrapped directly around one's heart. If they are ripped off by force, it could cause permanent damage to a person's soul.”

So Kristoph killed a man, and he justified it. He’s vain, and he’s selfish. But that is all stuff that Kristoph is aware of. Conscious flaws. He’s a selfish, cruel man who justifies hurting those he perceived as wronging him. But what secret does he hold so deeply that it could shatter the very foundation of who he is?

So what, ultimately, does break the Psyche-Lock? It’s hard to say, as we never see Kristoph’s particular Psyche-Locks again once we take control of Apollo Justice. But we do see a breaking of sort: A Witness Breakdown. The series is full of them, to varying degrees of, uh, aggressiveness. BUT! It’s rare to see someone break down as completely as Kristoph does in his final moments on the stand. It’s not throwing a toupe and passing out. It’s not whatever the fuck happened to that goose hat in DGS. No, it is a complete and total breakdown. Screaming, hair disheveled. And laughter. Uncontrollable laughter.

So! What prompts this?

In the technical sense, it’s the reveal that Phoenix Wright outsmarted him. The jurist system, a system that went against all of Kristoph’s beliefs, implemented by the man whom he had already defeated once. It’s this one little detail that puts the final nail in his coffin.

But there are other little details around this moment that caught my attention. His reaction to the jurists, calling them “Riff-raff” or “a mindless, emotional mob of irrational mouth-breathers.” And then, there’s one last line, not from Kristoph, but from Klavier.

“Except for you, Kristoph. You aren't changing. You've stopped. You're not needed anymore.”

You’re not needed anymore.

And there. I think we found it. I think we found the chink in Kristoph’s armor. Kristoph, while vain, and entitled, and cruel, and monstrous, desperately needs to be needed. Not only that, Kristoph needs to be in absolute control of those around him. Kristoph is better than the people around him. Kristoph is better than Klavier. Kristoph is certainly better than Phoenix Wright. He is the most important man in the world, and anything that can threaten that is a threat to his very being.

Kristoph is a man who thrives on control. You can absolutely see it in the way he talks to Apollo, Phoenix, and Klavier. He needs to be the smartest man in the room at all times, even with the people he loves. Hell, especially with the people he loves. He needs them to look up to him. He needs them to need him.

Sometimes, people talk about how Kristoph didn’t love Klavier, and I don’t know if that’s the whole truth. I think that Kristoph loved an IDEA of Klavier. An idea of who he was and how he was supposed to behave. He loved a facet of Klavier, and that love was entirely conditional on Klavier behaving exactly as Kristoph thought he should. Klavier is the one who betrayed Kristoph first, you see? Klavier is the one who refused to be ‘lesser than,’ to adhere to the perceptions in Kristoph’s mind of who he should be. And every deviation from Kristoph’s control made him want to control Klavier the more.

It’s important to note that, before Phoenix even entered the picture, Kristoph began to pull the strings. I don’t subscribe to the notion that Kristoph was always willing to pay his way to victory, or murder anyone who got in his way. But this fight against his little brother was something that he could not lose, no matter what. He had to win. He had to win and take back control. Klavier was spinning out of his control. Klavier was rejecting him. He needed Klavier to obey.

There seems to be an element of control with every one of Kristoph’s personal relationships. His mentorship with Apollo was very much the same, though to a lesser degree. He was kind on the surface level, but quick to find ways to put Apollo down, to undermine him, to demand Apollo do what he say. I can’t imagine he was any different with Klavier, honestly, just with more time and more chances to slowly wear away at Klavier’s sanity.

On the other side, Phoenix Wright was a ‘friend’ he ate dinner with once a week. He was the only member of the ethics board (which HAHA Kristoph on an ethics board) to stand up for him, trying to frame himself as Phoenix’s savior, inserting himself into the story so as to never lose control of the situation. Once again, it comes down to control.

I was talking with a friend once, about the similarities between Kristoph and good ol’ Manny von Karma. Both have this weird obsession with perfection, but I think they come from wildly different character flaws. Manfred is a man who believes he is perfect, and nothing anyone says or does can shake that. Any challenges to his perfection are a threat, of course, but only because he feels entitled to the world bending to his will. He is perfect. Meanwhile, Kristoph is deeply insecure. His veneer of perfection hides a deep terror of being anything less than. A threat to his perfection is a threat to his very sense of self, sense of worth, and that must be destroyed at all costs. Still entitled of course, just also with the threat of collapsing in on itself at any moment.

Anyway. Uh. Hope that was coherent. I really like Kristoph.

#kristoph gavin #ace attorney #j #meta

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peachhcs · 4 years ago

Text

Love Languages Pt. 2

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

Summary: Pt.2 to Luke asking you what Love Languages are

Warnings: talk of drinking and cheating but that’s it

Word Count: 1.6k

Here is part two that you all have been asking for! I deeply apologize for how long it took me to get this up, school is really kicking my butt. I have a bunch of people asking to be on my taglist and I’m currently in the works of making one so comment or reblog or something telling me you want to be on my taglist! Make sure you specifiy for my series or for small blurbs/oneshots like this or both!

Thank you so much for the amazing feedback! I love the comments and y’all are so amazing!

I’m not sure if this will have a part 3?? but let me know if you want one haha. I won’t be tagging anyone in this because my tags got lost in my notifications, so if you want to be tagged again, make sure you read above! :)

PART 1

* * *

You didn’t mean to avoid Luke, it just kind of happened. Junior Year was no joke and it felt like every night and every weekend you had piles of homework to get done, so you sort of drifted from going to Julie’s house everyday. She didn’t mind, she understood just as much and kept you updated on how the band was doing. However, you still felt guilty for avoiding the boys. You were worried that Luke would think he scared you away by touching you, but you were feeling the exact opposite. You wanted to explore more and find out more but here you were, in your room at 12am trying to finish this nagging essay that was due in 8 hours.

You felt your eyelids growing heavy but you shook your head, trying to keep yourself awake. The 3 monster drinks on your nightstand said enough about how much you were trying to keep yourself awake. You had 2 paragraphs left but you knew you were at a losing battle with yourself. The way your eyes were just glazing over at this point and rereading the same sentence over and over was becoming a very evident indication that you needed sleep. Before you could even think about quitting for the night, there was a noise from the side of your room and a grunt. Your eyes quickly darted over to where the noise came from and there stood Luke with that magenta pull over that you really liked.

“Luke?” His eyes quickly darted over to you, clearly surprised to still see you awake.

“Y/n..hey..” He started and you pushed your laptop away to give him your full attention.

“What are you..doing here?..” You weren’t really sure why he was here and you felt a small bit of tension in the room from avoiding him for the past few weeks.

“I uh..came to see you..” His voice was small and you pushed your eyebrows together in confusion.

“At 12 in the morning?..” You knew ghosts didn’t really sleep but it was still a strange sight to see Luke in your bedroom this late at night.

“Yup..” He trails off and pushes his glance down to the floor. You raised your eyebrow, knowing he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. You two were still best friends after all, so you could read him like an open book.

“Luke, seriously. What are you doing here?” You ask trying to push an answer out of him. He finally meets your gaze again and you see his small expression on his face.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You blinked a few times at his bluntness. This time you were the one to avoid his gaze. You picked at your fingernails slightly, knowing Luke was watching you and waiting for an answer.

“I don't mean too.. School’s been tough and stuff.” You say cringing at how lame that sounded even though it was true. Luke stayed silent for a moment, trying to decide if you were lying to him or not. You avoided his eyes and kept your glance locked on the floor.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I overstep by touching you? I didn’t mean to scare you or anything..” Luke trails off and you frown. You quickly shake your head to tell him no.

“No, no, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been really swamped with homework..” You grimace to yourself for coming back to your really lame excuse. You watch as Luke steps a little closer, testing the waters. When you don’t object to him moving closer, he takes a slow seat on your bed beside you.

“You look tired..” He points out, gently reaching to touch your cheek. It warms both of your bodies as your skin makes contact. His hands were..warm..and comforting. You weren’t sure what you expected but it definitely wasn't this. Who knew ghosts were warm?

“I told you I’ve been swamped with homework.” You chuckle and this time Luke chuckles along with you. He gently pulls his hand away and folds them into his lap. You stare down at your feet for a few moments trying to figure out what to say next. This felt like completely new territory the two of you were exploring and by the energy and growing tension in the room; this was a little bit scary.

“Do you think you know..why we can..touch?” You ask hesitantly. Julie was filling you in here and there at school, but it wasn’t much and they didn’t seem to come up with anything as to why you had the “powers” too.

“No..it’s still all confusing. We think Julie’s mom has something to do with us being connected to Julie but we don’t know about you.” Luke says, side eyeing you and you weren’t sure if that was a hint for you to talk about your past or not.

You didn’t really open up about your past. No one had ever really asked so you never really talked. Julie knew a little bit, she knew that your mom and dad fought a lot and you didn’t like being at home that much, but that was about it. You didn’t talk about it further than that, so when you could feel Luke trying to dig into your past more, you shrugged.

“My parents don’t talk much about stuff. I don’t know.” You say, keeping it short and simple. Luke frowns a little at your answer, but he knows not to push so he doesn’t. The two of you sit in more silence beside one another. You picked at your finger nails while Luke’s eyes travelled around your room.

“I ran out on my mom. She didn’t believe in my dream and though dropping out of high school was the worst possible idea. We got into a fight and I ran out. That was the last time I saw her face to face. I died before I could make amends with her.” You glance at Luke, surprised at his openness. Even though you guys were best friends, talking about stuff like this was kind of off limits. The memory hurt too much so you never talked about at home, parent problems.

“Wow..I’m sorry. That must have been hard on both of you.” You admit and Luke nods.

“It was, but Julie helped me make amends with them last year.” Luke smiles a little and you smile too. You knew his little story was a play to get you to start talking so you took in a little breath.

“My dad cheated on my mom a few years ago with..a few other women. My mom keeps trying to make excuses for him to keep him around. They fight a lot because my dad doesn’t want to stay but my mom keeps pushing it. They’re both pretty heavy drinkers, too. It’s not a very good mix.” You explain. It felt weird to say it out loud, but it also felt nice to talk about it with someone.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I can’t imagine how difficult that is.” Luke empathizes but you only shrug.

“It’s a good thing Julie let’s me come over so much. She’s been there for me for it all and I really love her for that.” You say, smiling at the thought of Julie’s friendship. You really couldn’t ask for a better best friend to get through it all.

“Yeah, Julie’s really great. She does it all.” Luke laughs and you nod in agreement. More silence fills in between you two but it was comfortable silence. This time you lean your head on Luke’s shoulder and he pulls his arm around you to bring you closer. You could feel the tension slowly fading away. Sometimes all it took was one meaningful conversation to break the barrier.

“Oh yeah, I saw these on my way over here and I thought you might like them.” Luke smiles and you watch as he digs into his pocket before pulling out a small bouquet of those pretty Aster flowers. You sit up a little, instantly recognizing them. They were your grandma’s favorite before she passed away when you were little.

“Asters?” You ask and Luke glances at you a little surprised.

“Is that what they’re called? They’re really pretty.” Luke smiles and hands them to you. You smile, smelling them and instantly getting that fresh scent of your grandma’s house.

“They are very pretty. Thank you.” You smile warmly and Luke smiles again.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They just reminded me of you.” Luke says and you chuckle. That was something your grandma had said to you a lot.

“You should probably get going. It’s getting late and the boys are probably wondering where you are.” You chuckle, glancing at how much later it had gotten and you still had to wake up for school the next morning.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see you at Julie’s tomorrow?” Luke stands up and sends you a hopeful glance. You chuckle and nod a yes.

“Yeah, see you there, Patterson.” Luke smiles at your response. You watch as he hesitates to leave for a moment and you’re about to question him when in one quick motion he plants a kiss on your cheek before poofing out.

You sit there, a little stunned, before allowing a small blush to creep its way onto your cheeks. You got up to put your flowers in your little vase on your desk. It added a nice touch to your room. If Luke hadn’t come in to make you more alert, you would have missed it. On your desk by the vase was a small piece of paper with writing on it. Upon examining it further, it was one of the last notes your grandma had written to you before she passed away. You thought you had lost that somewhere in your numerous papers, but there it was, front and center on your desk.

I will be with you, today, tomorrow, and forever. You just have to look for the signs - Grandma

#julie and the phantoms #japt #japt luke #japt cast #alex japt #reggie japt #julie molina #love #angst #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #flynn jatp #ray japt #luke patterson imagine #willie japt #fanfiction

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strangerthings4theories · 3 years ago

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Billy’s Doppelganger: A Back Door Into Understanding Stranger Things

The subject of Billy's doppelganger is a complicated one. I’ve already broached it briefly, but I could still talk about soooo many things. It's hard to know where to start!

I call his doppelganger a “back door” into understanding ST because it became exactly that for me. The symbolic, narrative, and thematic implications of the concept are so astounding - and far-reaching - that I’ve been able to identify a coherent theme in character relationships. I’ve even figured out three major rivalries that will develop toward the climax of the show. (I say “will” because I’m fairly certain about them. The writers could still surprise me by veering off course, but it would be an unpleasant surprise. They’ve set up these rivalries so well that they’d be fools not to follow through :p)

In this post, I’ll explain the implications of Billy’s doppelganger in regards to other character relationships. In future posts I’ll dig into the three future rivalries it points to.

To me, it's pretty damn obvious the Duffers are building their story on the foundation of multiverse theory. They reference it right out of the gate in S1, using it to explain the existence of the Upside Down. What they leave unspoken (but anyone who knows multiverse theory will understand) is that the existence of parallel universes implies the existence of parallel selves. When Billy flashes into the Upside Down and encounters another "self" (even if it's just the Mind Flayer in disguise), that tells us the Duffers are going to play with this core aspect of multiverse theory.

As far as characters go, Billy is the natural first choice to encounter his alternate self. He's been looking in mirrors, which are symbols for other universes or selves, this whole time. He even looks in a mirror right before his car crash at the steel mill - i.e., the moment he’s transported into another universe.

(^ This isn’t just vanity. It’s deeply symbolic! Note, too, that he’s facing his literal reflection in the phone booth!)

When Billy meets his doppelganger, he's meeting a walking, talking reflection of himself... and something's desperately wrong with it.

But he’s not the only character to meet his dark reflection in S3. He’s just the first.

The Duffers chose a Heather who looks like an older Millie for a reason. Heather is El's upside-down reflection - a warning of what could happen to El if the Mind Flayer had his way. By the time they meet in the Holloways' dining room (with a big-ass mirror on the wall, I might add), Heather has become a china doll drained of will and personality. El is looking in the mirror and seeing something terrible.

(^ The mirror on the wall! Which, btw, also symbolizes El’s relationship with Billy, because they’re reflections of each other. I’ll write a series on that eventually.)

It’s also noteworthy that, while El is practically an orphan, Heather still has both her parents. She has the “happy family” that El has always dreamed of. The show points this out by bringing El face-to-face with the Holloways’ family portrait.

El recognizes herself in Heather. For all of episode 3, her biggest drive is to save Heather from the Mind Flayer’s clutches. This echoes El’s need to save herself. (Or to save her “shadow,” to put it in Jungian terms.)

Hopper meets his reflection too. Grigori the Russian is everything Hopper hates (since, as a Vietnam vet, Hopper no doubt has strong opinions about Communism). Yet Grigori is much like Hopper himself: a big, burly brute with military training, single-minded and aggressive in the pursuit of his goals. It's no coincidence Hopper ends up shooting Grigori in a hall of mirrors. Hopper is trying to put down his dark reflection.

This echoes Hopper’s central wound: he hates himself for failing his daughter Sara. He doesn’t want to save his shadow, like El does; he’d rather destroy it.

(^ Some of the eyebrow-raising cinematography used for Hopper and Grigori. Very mirror-like, wouldn’t you say? Also note the literal hall of mirrors.)

Not all reflections are bad, though. The season revolves around the meeting of Billy and El, who mirror each other in crucial ways. To describe it briefly, they...

have abusive fathers (biological for Billy, symbolic for El);

miss their absent mothers;

have "adopted" sisters (Max for Billy, Kali for El);

struggle with a deep core of anger from the abuses they've suffered; and

are viscerally connected with the Upside Down.

This ends up being a good thing, because their mutual understanding helps Billy throw off the Mind Flayer’s chains at Starcourt.

(^ Some of the Billy/El mirror symbolism and parallels that come through in the cinematography.)

I believe the Duffers are playing with the idea of reflections of the self - good, bad, and neutral.

You can probably look at all sorts of character pairings and find this principle at work. Murray and Alexei, for instance (dark-haired, wiry, and nerdy looking; enemies at first, but eventually cackling together in the backseat of a car). I haven’t done a thorough study of character pairings yet, but I have identified three of great interest to me.

In my next post, I’ll address the one I find most intriguing: Billy vs Eddie Munson.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Billy Is Alive - A Meta Series

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove is alive #stranger things #stranger things theory #stranger things analysis #stranger things meta #billy is alive meta #ohbillyboy #el hopper #eleven hopper #eleven stranger things #chief jim hopper #jim hopper #dark reflections #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4

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writerofshit · 3 years ago

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(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

#is this dumb? maybe. did i have way too much fun writing it? absolutely.#is this how any of this would go irl? god no. is it still fun? hell yeah.#fahc #fake ah crew #ks writes

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