#its just that my following feels so undeserved. i want to fall in love w making art again without the pressure of an audience

[nova-rpv]

a bunch of doodles to make up for my wips 👍

and dont forget your daily clicks!!

[doxypsychlean]

is there a part 2 to Strong maybe bit of smut

Strong pt.2

Aegon ii Targaryen x Strong!Reader

Previous chapter: Strong pt.1

Warnings: Targcest, Explicit language, NSFW content, Blood, Aegon beats up Aemond(not that bad, I swear)

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

Additional info: Instead of Rhaenyra escorting the Strong fellas back to Dragonstone, they all stay in the Red Keep(just imagine it for a sec that Alicent begged her ass off and got Rhaenyra to stay, cs she wants to spend more time w her(this is my fkn world and in it, these two make up idc)

A/N: Ooop, here it fkn issss!!! Ngl, I was cackling like a middleschooler while writing the spicy part of this one. Welp... Cheers, you horny bastards!!!

P.S. I fkn lied, this is nowhere near close to the req. Sorry, dear Anon.

A choked up sob came out of the Prince's mouth as he rubbed the linen washcloth over the bitemarks on his neck. Tears welled up in his eyes, but Aegon was quick to blink them away, before the woman could see.

She was sat across him, on the edge of the bed, watching him as Aegon dabbed away the blood. She was already dressed, in a long, bell-sleeved green gown that showed off every curve of hers. Aegon sneaked a glance at her deep neckline, then quickly averted his eyes.

The woman noticed it immediately, eyes never leaving his face. She ran a soft hand over her shoulder and pushed her long, dark hair out of the way, so it could trail down her back.

"Our mothers, along with your sister, Baela and Rhaena are in the gardens." She said, voice gone back to its usual cushiness. "They invited me to join them. I trust you will behave?"

The silver haired man flinched at her question. His hands dropped down to his lap, pulling at the washcloth as his eyes looked down at the dirty sheets.

Behave. Behave. Behave.

"Love?" Her eyes narrowed, word coming out rough and low.

Aegon flinched again. He looked up at her, head shaking up and down violently. She let out an amused hum, then got up on her feet.

"Good." She was now standing next to him, one hand reaching up to his face. She took in the angry bruise she'd awarded him with the night before. Then the faint imprints of her hand that covered his face, neck and chest. The rest staying hidden from her eyes by the sheet Aegon had covered his lower half with. "You're so good."

Aegon whined, the pathetic sound reverberating in his head. Before he had time to curse himself out for it, her fingers hooked under his chin. He turned to face her, hands clutching and pulling at the washcloth.

"My brothers are with Aemond and Ser Criston, in the training grounds." She said, thumb running over his bottom lip. "You'll join them."

It wasn't a question, but an order. One he wasn't brave enough to not follow. Not after the things his sweet,sweet wife had done to him throughout the previous night.

"That's it." The woman laughed out as she bent forward, lips meeting with those of Aegon. "I must go, my love. Get ready, then head down. You'll find clothes on the chair over there."

His pale eyes shot open, following to where her hand was pointing at. He nodded once more, head falling down after. The Prince put the washcloth on the nightstand as he got up.

Although he was a few good inches taller than her, Aegon felt incredibly small. Weak. Worthless. Undeserving.

He hissed as her hands wrapped around his wrists, successfully getting her to pull away. For a bit. Then she grabbed him again, this time much more gently, and brought them up so she could take a closer look.

The porcelain skin was now red and swollen. The ropes had left behind thin, angry traces where they'd cut in, marring the blank canvas Aegon was.

"I am sorry, my dragon." She whispered as she peppered his inner wrists with soft, apologetic kisses.

"It's fine." The Prince finally spoke out, his voice hoarse and trembling. He was smiling down at her, trying to bite back another hiss. "I...enjoyed it."

The brunette looked up at him, plump lips meeting with the red skin for the last time before she let go. Her arms wrapped around his neck, body pressing close to his.

Aegon rubbed his bruised cheek against hers, melting in her hands.

"My dragon..." She trailed off, pulling him impossibly close to herself. "I love you."

Aegon whined again, the tears now falling freely from his eyes. His hands reached for her hips, nails digging into the green silk of the gown that covered them.

"Say it again..." He was falling apart, body shaking with the intensity of the sobs that left his mouth. "Please."

The woman kept quiet. The fingers that were rubbing small circles on the back of his head, stopped moving.

"Please." Aegon needed to hear it. Especially after the cruel words she'd punished him with the night before. "Tell me you love me. Please."

Love me. Love me. Love me.

But she didn't say it. Instead, she unwrapped her arms from around him. The Prince almost fell to his knees at the loss of contact.

"Get dressed." She turned around, walking towards the doors of their chambers.

Aegon became painfully aware of the pitiful state he was in- naked, crying and begging, covered in endless amount of bruises, scratches and marks. He tried to put himself back together, to wipe the broken expression off his face. But there was no point.

In just a few hours, she'd completely destroyed whatever it was, that was left of the Prince. He had no ground to stand on. Not anymore. He could yell in her face, break her to pieces, even kill her. But she'd die, knowing she won. Knowing that she'd broken him in, taken him down to being this sad, miserable excuse of a person.

"I love you." Her voice reached Aegon's ears. "I truly do."

Then she was gone.

────────────

"What happened to you?" Aemond asked as his brother approached him. He lowered his sword, signaling to Criston he'd take a break.

The knight offered a small nod, then turned his attention to the younger boys who were standing off to the side.

"Got into some trouble last night?" The one-eyed prince teased.

Aegon's head shot up, eyes staring up at his younger brother in shock. How did he find out, he heard his trembling voice inside his head. His legs almost gave out at the thought of Aemond knowing what she'd done to him. His brother already looked down on him, what must he be thinking now, that he knew his big brother was used like a whore.

"Told you that you shouldn't be going out into the city alone..." Prince Aemond said, hand reaching for Aegon's shoulder.

Aegon bit down a groan as his brother's hand came down on one of the bitemarks. He shook his head, his usual smug grin coming back on his face to cover the pain.

"It was nothing, don't worry about it." A relieved breath escaped through Aegon's words. Fortunately, Aemond didn't notice it.

The long-haired man lowered his hand, eyeing Aegon up and down suspiciously. There was nothing out of the ordinary. His brother looked a bit tired, a bit disheveled. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

He looked away for a second, then his eye came back to Aegon.

"What in the Seven Hells are you wearing?"

Aegon was sporting a high-collared black doublet, black pants and leather boots. That's not what shocked Aemond. It was the red shirt that showed underneath the doublet. The red cord it was embroidered with. The three-headed dragon pin on his chest.

Then his eye trained on Aegon's hands. The ridiculously large gold ring was resting on his little finger of his right hand. On his left thumb, however, was a simple steel band ring. One that had the sigil of House Strong on it.

Aegon turned red as he noticed the way his brother was inspecting him.

"Leave it be." He whispered, eyes going back to their nephews, who were now swinging at Ser Criston. "It doesn't concern you."

Aemond wrapped one gand around the back of Aegon's neck, eliciting a pained growl from his brother.

"You didn't get that nasty bruise out in the streets, did you?" Aemond teased, eye darting to his brother now and then. "No shame, brother. I honestly expected for your Strong lady to put you in your place way sooner."

Aegon didn't dare say a word. He stood there, allowing his baby brother to make his cruel joke.

"Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond..." Criston's voice rang out. "Would you join us? We have to even the odds."

Aemond turned nodded, then took a step forward. He turned suddenly, spinning on one heel.

"Would anyone blame me if that little bastard lost an eye whilst sparring?" He said with that smirk of his. "Do you think your Strong lady will come after me, do to me what she did to you?"

And there it was, the straw that broke the camel's back. Aegon's back.

He lunged at his brother, knocking him to the ground. With his newfound strength, it only took a few blows to the face for Aemond to pass out, his head bouncing up and down with every hit.

Ser Criston, Luke and Jace reached them in no time. They tried to pull Aegon off, but the Prince simply refused to let go. The rage had blinded him, all he could see was his brother's bloodied face.

But it wasn't the cruel jokes. Nor was it Aemond threatening to take their nephew's eye out. It was him, suggesting that the Princess would put her hands on Aemond the way she'd done to Aegon.

That was for him. The pain, the humiliation,the punishment. All his. No one else's. His alone.

"Aegon!"

And just like that, Prince Aegon let go. He allowed for Criston to pull him to his feet and away from Aemond.

All his. No one else's. His alone.

He shook off Cole's hands, then turned to stare at her. Waiting. For her to storm over to him, and show everyone where his place was. To show to his mother, his sisters, his cousins, his nephews.

But nothing came. She stood there, at the top of the steps, staring down at him. One hand extended out towards Aegon. Drawing him, guiding him.

He didn't notice how Alicent ran past him, nor did he see how she dropped to her knees, next to Aemond's unconscious body. He didn't notice the scared and confused looks on his nephews faces or the way his half-sister, Rhaenyra, looked from her daughter to him with a smug grin.

All he could see was her.

Aegon followed the woman into the Red Keep and up the steps, towards their chambers.

────────────

"Why?" She asked, flopping down on the bed.

He didn't respond. Aegon was too busy trying to undo the clasps of his doublet to notice she'd said something.

"Come here..." She murmured, hand reaching out for him just like it had out there.

He heard her this time. Without wasting any time he strode over, only stopping when he had to look down to get a good look of her face.

They stood there like that for a bit, neither saying a word.

Then she spread her legs slowly, making room for him.

"Closer, I can't reach you."

The Prince took another step forward, now standing between her legs.

"I asked you a question." She said softly, fingers quickly undoing the clasps, then the buttons of his shirt. "Why did you do it?"

"He threatened to take your brother's eye out."

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Aegon." Her whole demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. There was no gentleness to her anymore. She tugged at the strings of his breeches, untying them with one swift move. "So why? I want the truth."

Aegon Targaryen had never shied away from a woman's touch the way he did when his wife's fingers ran down his happy trail. He sucked in a breath.

"He..." The Prince turned to look out the opened windows.

"What did he do?" She looked up at him, two fingers hooking at the front of his pants and tugging down.

"He asked if you'd do what you did to me, if he were to take his eye out." Aegon admitted, shaking his clothes of his body.

"And that made you knock Aemond out cold because..." The woman almost laughed at her own words. Aegon got him good, she couldn't deny it.

She watched as his breeches fell to the ground, freeing Aegon from the tight grasp they had on him. He let out a hiss as the cold air touched him, his already hard cock slapping against his lower abdomen.

Aegon looked away again, too ashamed of how much effect she had on him.

Two hungry eyes were staring down at the head of his cock, deep shade of pink and already leaking.

"Because...?" She teased, hand wrapping around him.

Aegon let out a deep moan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. His pale face was turning red, making the purple bruise on his cheek stand out even more.

He hissed as she dragged her hand up and down the length of his cock at a painfully slow pace. The soreness of the night before still lingered, making every inch of his body scream in agony. Still, he found himself coming to love the feeling. The pain. The humiliation. The punishment.

"Because I don't want you to touch anyone else the..." His breath hitched as the brunette bent down a bit and licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock.

She felt him twitch slightly, making her let out an amused huff. A shiver ran down Aegon's back when he felt her warm breath hit him. His hand came to rest at the back of her head, gently massaging the skin underneath his fingers.

The sensation of her wet tongue dissappeared once she reached the tip, leaving the man to thrust his hips into the air. Then her full lips wrapped around the head, her tongue circling around it. She let out a low hum, the sound reverberating throughout his whole body.

"I don't want you to do what you did to me last night to anyone else!" He cried out, almost toppling over at the feeling of her tongue rubbing over the slit of his cock. "Just me..."

Her lips left him with a loud pop, the woman laughing softly at it. She wiped away the mixture of precum and saliva from her lips as she looked up at him.

"Just you, my dragon." She said as her hands wrapped around his wrists gently, guiding them towards her shoulders. "Help me get it off."

Aegon looked at her with a dumbstruck look on his face. His confusion didn't prevent him from sliding down the garment past her shoulders.

"You're not angry at me?" He asked.

"Quite the opposite..." The brunette said as she got up, leaving barely any space between their faces. "I'm proud of you, my brave dragon."

Another whine escaped Aegon as he slid his hands down her body, ridding her of her green gown. He pulled her close, their chest pressing against together.

He hid his face in the crook of her neck, planting wet, needy kisses on the skin there. Aegon lifted her up, the woman wrapping her legs around his waist quickly. He climbed on the bed while still holding her.

"I'm so sorry..." He said as he pulled away to look at her. "About yesterday. I didn't mean it, I just wanted to get a reaction from..."

She cut him short, pushing him off of her and then climbing on top of Aegon. On hand reached up to cover his mouth, the other going to his throat.

"I know." The Princess said, grinding down on him.

Aegon moaned from behind her hand, thrusting up. The grip she had on his throat got stronger. He stilled, his breathing did too.

The hand on his face turned, until her thumb was pressing down on his lips. He opened his mouth, tongue swirling around the single digit, cheeks hollowing as he sucked in.

"So good..." She whispered, her other hand sliding down his body and dissappearing between them. "So fucking good. For me."

Aegon's eyes fluttered shut as she wrapped her fingers around his cock, head shaking up and down with a choked moan.

"So brave..." The woman raised up slightly as she guided his cock to her, rubbing it over her slick cunt. "My brave dragon."

He bit down on her thumb as the tip of his cock entered her. The woman hissed, but didn't pull away. Instead, she hooked her other fingers under his chin, then shook slowly.

"Try not to bite it off or I'll have to return the favor." She joked, eyes darting from him to where their bodies met.

Both let out a chuckle, the sound soon getting replaced by Aegon's whines.

"Move." He unwrapped his lips from around her thumb, teeth still holding it in place. "Please."

"As my Prince commands..." Her breath hitched as she slammed down on him.

Her free hand trailed back up and then down again, nails digging in. Soon his porcelain skin turned to an angry shade of red, blood prickling.

Aegon couldn't hold back anymore. His hips snapped up, meeting with hers. Her palm collided with his face. He bit down on the digit in his mouth again with another hard thrust.

Another slap. His cheek was staring to sting. Then he did it again.

"You're enjoying it, aren't you?" She hissed out as she bounced up and down.

Aegon hummed, tongue rubbing against the pad of her thumb.

She pulled her hand away from his face, his teeth dragging over.

"I want to hear you." She said as she dropped down to his chest, legs giving out. "Say it."

Aegon mumbled a few incoherent sentences before wrapping his arms around her waist tight. He set up a painfully fast speed, skin hitting skin as he chased his own high.

Her mind went blank at the first thrust, hands pushing up as she tried to pull away from his grasp. She almost slipped away, but Aegon was quick to follow her. His head dipped down, lips wrapping around one of her nipples. He bit down and then sucked in, just as she'd done to him the night before.

A hiss came from the woman. One of her hands sneaked over his shoulder, then pulled his head back by his hair.

A thin string of saliva trailed from his mouth and down to her bruised nipple. He offered a toothy, devilish grin before licking his lips clean.

"I'm close." She stuttered, eyes shutting tight.

Aegon laughed out as his bruised cheek came to rest on her chest, his eyes closing. He kept the same pace, the sweet aching in his hips coming once more.

"Princess, the feast..." The doors flew open, one of her maids barging in. "Oh, Gods!"

The girl left just as quickly, blush creeping up on her face.

"Don't stop!" She moaned out as Aegon's thrust stuttered. "Don't!"

He laughed again, hips snapping. Then he stopped completely.

"It would seem I still don't know my place, wife." He craned his neck up as his mouth left behind a hot, blazing trail from her collarbones to her jaw.

"You'll learn..." The woman looked down at him, hand going back to wrap around his throat. "...husband."

[versadies]

thank you for the oppurtunity and CONGRATS ON 3K !!! you deserve all 3k of us, your work is amazing its so fun to read. theres no fic of yours that i havent reread at least twice @u u@)人 thanks for feeding us your work its so yummy

anyway ! can i have :

miso soup [thoma] + northern apple stew [fake relationship] + mint jelly [fluff] + wolfhook juice [yandere] + ketchup [hc scenario]

the red means i love you — yan!thoma x gn!reader

‿୨♡୧‿︵ BON APETIT MY FELLOW CUSTOMER ! ︵‿୨♡୧‿

name of order: RED MEANS I LOVE YOU

date: yandere!thoma and slight kamisato ayato (w/ gn!reader)

receipt: miso soup (thoma) + northern apple stew (fake relationship) + mint jelly (fluff) + wolfhook juice (yandere) + ketchup (hc scenario/bulleted form)

spices: yandere themes, fake relationship trope, toxic relationship, assumed unrequited love, ooc thoma, fluff/slight-angst

ingredients: in which thoma finds a way to make you his even if it's just an act for you to be with someone else.

vip list. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @aqualesha @thcma @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @coleluuviida @034ven @dear-dairiess @luv3rxcha @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque

chef’s note: omg you’re so sweet anon tysm !! i hope you like this ( >//< ) !! (p.s. i do not support nor condone to any actions that yanderes do)

3k milestone masterlist | main masterlist

thoma reminds you of the color red.

the color red that’s all over his outfit was one of the first things that caught your eye besides his foreign appearance that separates himself among most inazuma folk in both ritou and inazuma city. not long after, you see his pyro vision that shines brightly on his belt when his whole figure is now in view.

its color definitely matches him, you thought to yourself as you watch him walk towards you with a smile on his face.

the red from the maple leaves of ritou falls down on you both as you reluctantly accept thoma’s offer in taking you out for dinner to get to know you before you go visit the yashiro commission to meet the head. you were getting hungry from how long you’ve been traveling to go to the electro nation (and you couldn’t help but feel relieved that you don’t have to eat so much fish anymore).

this feels like a date, you thought to yourself as thoma gestures you to follow him before he heads towards the road of inazuma city, the skies start to turn to light red–ish from the sunset. not that i’m complaining though, he’s quite cute for a housekeeper.

the color red of the sashimi platter strikes your eyes when you look down at the table full of foods that thoma made in the komore teahouse. who knew inazuma would have such good food?!

unnoticed by you however, thoma couldn’t honestly keep his eyes on his food and eat, not when he finds himself taken back by surprise from your comment about how you don’t think you’ll ever want to go back to mondstadt because of inazuma’s cuisine. he didn’t know you’re from mondstadt!

the red hues on thoma’s cheeks are visible as you compliment his great skills in cooking and that you admire how he takes so much care for the animals in the city. if you continue giving him undeserving compliments, he might just get a heart attack!

if only you knew how the housekeeper is wrapped around your finger.

it didn’t take long before the dinner had finally ended, much to his disappointment. was it hard to ask for this dinner to last forever?

it didn’t help that you no longer focused on the beautiful sight of the red-orange mixed sky when the both of you arrived in the residence of the kamisato clan, you could feel your cheeks warming from the sight of the noble head of the yashiro commission and the kamisato clan, completely entranced by his light purple eyes. why did no one tell you he’d be this attractive!?

blue matches him a lot, you thought, before realizing that you’ve been staring at the man in silence and immediately cleared your throat in embarrassment, to which ayato chuckles in response, the both of you unaware that a certain companion of yours has been watching the whole scene with a small frown.

since then, the dinner was nothing but a small memory that’s stuck in the back of your mind without any signs of being remembered anytime soon.

instead, your mind is filled with numerous imaginations and memories that you made with the noble head, who never fails to find himself enjoying his time with you (though, he refuses to let that out from his lips). some servants would even gush about how you two would make a great couple, unaware of how another set of ears are listening with resentment.

you paid attention to how blue the pond below you is as you admire your reflection from the said pond for just a moment, your hands held a special box that you’ll soon give to someone you love. would ayato accept the brooch that you bought just because it matches his purple eyes? he’ll probably compliment you and give you that dashing smile of his that could never be compared to any men you’ve met.

feeling giddy, you immediately rush to the doors of the yashiro commission quarters, greeting a certain housekeeper who’s cleaning nearby along the way.

it was strange, thoma thinks. you’re more.. casual unlike before when you were awkward and closed off. it’s good that you’re getting comfortable in inazuma, though he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the source of your comfort.

he knew he had to do something about it, but it seems the universe has smiled upon him.

you stared down at the purple brooch that you gave to ayato the other day, your eyes started to get dull. how did it end up in the trash can…?

“( name )? what brings you here in lord kamisato’s office?” thoma’s voice interrupts your plagued thoughts, causing you to instantly turn around and look at him as though you’re a deer caught in headlights. “th-thoma! what.. what are you doing here?”

the housekeeper smiles. “i’m here to clean-up, i’m a housekeeper, remember?” he said with a light chuckle.

seeing that you didn’t laugh, the housekeeper stops himself for a moment, his smile disappearing in an instant. “...is there something wrong, ( name )?” he asks in concern.

you quickly look away from his concerned gaze. “it’s nothing… i just feel like a fool, that’s all.”

you flinched when you felt his hand on your shoulder. how did he come from the doorway to where you are so fast? “you can tell me what’s wrong, ( name ). remember what we told each other on our first dinner?” he spoke.

your mind drifts to the memory when thoma told you he’ll always have your back throughout your stay in inazuma, and you slowly nodded in response.

he then lets go of your shoulder. “now tell me, what happened?”

your shoulders slumps, eyeing the trash can that has the brooch. “...was i truly a fool to think that he likes me?”

thoma looks to the trash can below, his eyebrows furrow at the sight of a shiny brooch that’s thrown to the can. “you bought this brooch?”

you nodded again. “i thought he’d like it… maybe he just doesn’t like me at all.” you spoke in sadness. “tell me thoma, has he ever said something about me to you ever since i came here?”

his eyes slightly widened in surprise. “a-ah, well… i don’t think he ever said something to me that’s noted o-of… i apologize for not being of help, ( name ).” he said, if he had the ears of a dog, it’d be drooping out of sadness.

you smiled sadly. “it’s alright, thoma. you don’t have to apologize. i should be the one to apologize for interrupting you from cleaning sir… kamisato’s office. i’ll take my leave before i could cause any more disturbances–”

thoma immediately grabs your wrist to prevent you from walking away.

“wait,” he said. “...do you love lord ayato that much?”

you inhaled sharply from his question. despite the fact that ayato just tossed away such a precious gift you’re willing to spend on just for him, your love couldn’t die as quickly as you hoped. “...with my life.”

you didn’t notice how his eyes spark an idea. “...then let me help you. i think i know a way for ayato to see you as… more than some business partner – but this will sound bold so i apologize in advance for what i’m about to say.” he stated, red hues started to appear around his face.

you were hesitant on his suggestion for a moment, unsure if it’s really worth it. “...why do you think this will work?”

“because lord ayato is quite unsure with his feelings about you when i asked him, this might be an opportunity for you, don’t you think?”

you frowned, thinking deeply about your decision. “...i suppose you’re right…”

“just hear me out on this plan and who knows? maybe this will be good for you in the end!” he said enthusiastically with a small smile. “of course, if you’re still unsure of this, you can reject this and i’ll understand. it’s just a suggestion anyway, haha!”

you nodded slowly. thoma does have a point, it won’t hurt to try and hear him out, right?

you sighed in defeat and looked at him with willing eyes. “alright, tell me your plan.”

“we should make him feel jealous.”

“...how, exactly?”

you watched as his smile grew. it didn’t look like the usual smile you see on him daily, it was an entirely new smile you haven’t seen before, the sight alone made you feel uneasy.

“why don’t we pretend that you and i are in a fake relationship?”

thoma watched as conflict washes over your face, his heart paces faster in anticipation of your response. just one more step and he gets to have you, even if it’s just a silly act for you to get with ayato.

forgive me for throwing the brooch you loved to the trash bin, lord ayato. thoma thought as you finally made a decision. but just this once, i’d like to be selfish.

“if you think this works then.. i trust you, thoma.” you said.

he tries not to show his excitement. “you can always count on me, ( name ).”

looking back at this moment alone, you wished you didn’t say yes to the housekeeper. maybe then, you wouldn’t have been haunted from the sight of the color red.

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person��to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket,Se03, Ep 8 (part 1)

“ I hate myself, so much, so intensely, so completely, I wish I just go away, disappear for good, & yet in the end, I always protect myself, instead of taking responsibility, I run away every damn time, like now, I’m too scared to even look at your face”. The real kyo under the layers of trauma.

This quotation is why this ep is not abt romance. Instead it is abt: Extreme self-loath, faulty coping mechanism, self-awareness & inability to make correct decisions due to suicidal thoughts & non-existent self-worth.  

This is a guy who’s literally seen death TWICE at the age of 4 & 15 (his mom & kyoko), is trying to avoid the THIRD (tohru’s) & is questioning why the FOURTH isnt happening (his own death).

-The layers of a broken self: Excellent writing:

I applaud the writer for choosing fitting methods to portray her characters’ own trauma. Yuki “ prince” mask & tohru’s “i’m okay” mask were fitting to hide their trauma & uncover the real personalities. However, since kyo would be the character to hide secrets & carry guilt, the viewers need to feel he’s hiding sth w/o knowing what it is. It was done cleverly to (a) tie the plot together, (b) build kyo’s character, (c) fit the climax, (d) suit his trauma of severe guilt & self-loath. Some of the things he does can fit two genuine layers: Both layers are true:

His initial refusal to open up to tohru in early se01. (Surface layer): he doesn't know how to interact with ppl who accept him as he confessed to shigure, (Deeper layer): he avoided tohru cuz he knew her!

He initially refused to join leisure activities & trips: hot spring & kyoto trip (Surface layer): he didn’t want to go with yuki (Deeper layer) he didnt want to spend time with tohru as he was unconsciously feeling that he’s stealing from her.

It killed him to see her true lonely self behind her fake mask & approached her with advice. se1, ep5 (grandpa house), se1, ep23 (sick tohru), se2, ep 8 (hiro’s remarks) & other instances.  (Surface layer): he was noticing her issues, & genuinely wanted to help her cuz he’s kind (Deeper layer) he was falling in love w/her & unconsciously wanted her to be happy with HIM.

There were times when there was ONE layer, such as: kyoko’s 1st grave visit. He was so off, rigid, unresponsive, & completely shut down. Everybody read him. Yuki, tohru, Arisa & hana. they just don’t know why he behaving like that. his trauma manifested itself deeply that he apologized to tohru in her sleep cuz he was “ too scared to even look at your face”.

- Kyo’s trauma takes physical shape: (Clutching his heart: PAIN, clutching his stomach : DISGUST) :

While confessing to tohru, kyo’s features spoke volumes. You can see disrepair, guilt, broken soul, sadness & surrender. His body reflected his emotions:

wide eyes (disbelief), Cat eyes (utter fear)

trembling body (overwhelmed with toxic emotions)

clutching his fists (anger at self) , opening fists (surrender to darkness)

hand covering face (shame), Hand around neck as he finished confessing abt kyoko & yuki (desire for death: the final judgement)

The most focused physical appearance was his fist clutching his heart: he was in so much pain as he narrated how he loved kyoko & found a friend in her, desired to make her happy, to find tohru for her, how his his mom withered away out of fear of him & how pitiful & sad he felt towards tohru for loving someone like him. It broke his heart to see them all suffer after knowing him. All the love he felt for them squeezed his heart tight, he wanted to pull it & rip it away. Above all, he was sad to loose them all. Sad he can’t be wit them.

Then he clutched his stomach: representing the pure disgust he felt at himself. As he realized that there is no escape from being responsible for their death, as he admitted he illogically blamed yuki, his disgust with himself boiled in his stomach. What kind of disgusting horrible person does that? blame someone illogically? I’m horrible, hateful & utterly undeserving to be forgiven. Being disgusted with one’s own self! oof! it was so well-done with animation!

-Tying Mature Themes with Child Trauma:

Through kyo’s story, there were different mature themes that excellently dictate his behavior, mentality & emotional well-being: Excellent writing!

(1) The desperate need for self-worth: To be good for once!

by constantly destroying his self-worth thro contempt (the sohmas), rejection (his mom), hate (his father), pity (kazuma/ kagura, initially), kyo searched for an outlet to be a worthy human. Someone who deserves to be loved for who he is. He found that in kyoko. It is brilliant that kyo didn’t look for a mom in kyoko. He called her “ old hag”, she told him unflattering facts abt herself “ neglecting her daughter”. she was his first real friend. He found comfort being with her. He wanted to return the intimate feeling he felt deep down, kyo is so hung up on giving as much as taking as it contradicts the notion of pity. The opportunity came! Helping her find her daughter! being someone who does good! Return the daughter & feel worthy of being a true friend, a man (aka a person). “ i’ll help her, I’ll protect her for sure! it’s a man’s promise” The promise in its core is abt kyo wanting to be a person. Not a monster, or a cat. A true real boy. Away from all the toxic past emotions. Being a man: means being a big boy (person) with good achievements! All this shattered when a better boy beats him to it. The boy who was always praised, loved & respected! kyo’s self-worth diminished greatly & all the toxic emotions came back!

(2) The downfall of faulty coping mechanism: Creating a Bad Guy:

I stated before that one of my fave scenes of kyo was in se02, ep23 when kyo lashed out at yuki on the stairs upon seeing the hat & how yuki felt nothing but pity towards kyo as he was stuck in the past while yuki moved on. Brilliant scene that explains why one moved on & the other didn;t. Yuki’s faulty coping mechanism was being withdrawn & shutting himself. This coping mechanism didnt make him feel better at all!!! Also, he doesn’t have regrets nor sins, he dealt with his faulty coping mechanism with tohru’s help & the school council & healed gradually. Forever loving the writer for writing the distinction between kyo & yuki logically without painting any as monster in reality. Kyo couldn’t do as yuki for the following reasons: ( remember the old theme of everybody heals on their own pace? love it )

(a) He was addicted to shifting the blame as it made him feel better abt himself!! he shifted his thoughts from “ I wanna go away for good” “ mom, why didn’t you kill me instead” to “ it’s not my fault at all, it’s yuki” No match between the two feelings! one leads to suicide, the other leads to feeling like a mere victim. The two feelings are wrong tho & He knows that! he isn’t ready to stop the drug. He can’t face himself. “ the bad guy, if he isn’t as awful as you think, who you’re left to blame”.

(b) nothing around him can make him feel better. Tohru? but she’s kyoko’s daughter! she’s a lonely orphan, carrying her mommy’s pic taking to it! why? cuz you didn't save her! Loving tohru? is good & I wish we can run away far & be together always! wake up! why would she wanna be with a disgusting monster like you?!! You dont deserve her! you who caused his mom to die, caused her mom to die, blamed an innocent guy! Yuki? yeah, look at yuki, you can never be like him, watch as his true kindness gets noticed by tohru, the school & everybody!! he’s everything you cant be!! he should be with tohru! not you!! Master kazuma? poor guy! you brought him nothing but misery! you see his sad smile, don’t you? he’s disappoint in you. Kagura? she pities you!

(b) Kyo can’t fix his mistakes. kyo watched as yuki got back with his brother, befriended haru again, goes back to the sohma estate for the holidays. he feels he cant have similar reweds as he cant bring the things he needed. his mom, kyoko, his bio dad’s affection, kazuma’s pride in him, tohru’s love & his own satisfaction at himself. kyo just hates kyo “so much, so intensely, so completely”

(c) his fault coping mechanism mirrors his dad’s. Kids pick up toxic habits from parents all the time. Even his suicidal thoughts mirrors his mom’s! brilliant writing!

3- running away from responsibilities: perfectly constructed theme!

Who didn’t? I’m guilty! ugh! one of the best themes in furuba hands down! Any other writer would have made kyo do it once, or twice & have him face it in climax & then deal with it. but NOT takaya-san! She excellently took her time with kyo repeating this exact mistakes over & over to better portray the theme & take it out from the boundaries of story-telling to realistic depiction & logical gradual progression:

kyo ran away from being accused of killing his mom (he’s completely innocent & isn’t responsible for his birth’s deformity/curse nor his mom’s suicide)

kyo ran away from accepting kyoko’s words that yuki isnt bad & most importantly that kyo is good. He had found relief in blaming yuki, now you wanna tell me I should look into myself? I’m bad! i dont wanna look. your words are weird “ no bad or good”  Everybody says otherwise, the sohmas, dad & mom! kyo angrily ran away (completely guilty but excused as child would be).

kyo ran away from facing kyoko’s body & wanted to punish himself with death. Depression took over him as “ master tried to get me to keep living”. (completely guilty in his own eyes, if only he tried to safe her, even if he transformed, Even if she still died regardless!!! he hates himself for choosing the disgusting kyo over the kind kyoko)

kyo ran away from telling tohru the truth upon seeing her, pretended not to know her, slowly dying each time she smiles, slowly falling in love & wishing for a chance with her, a chance he believes doesn't deserve.

Kyo ran away in se01, ep14 when remembering the accident as shigure  triggered him. Tohru consoled him & he lost the chance to come clean.

kyo is running away now. Unable to face her “ too scared to even look at your face”. “ I cant forgive me! I dont want you to fogive me either”

So, after running away the first time, kyo should’ve learned better, right? now in the climax, he shouldn’t  have run away? Yes, he should. cuz simply, he isnt ready. We dont learn from our mistakes cuz someone told us. we learn when we fix the core issue. A guy who thinks he deserves a chance in life would stand tall, confess his sins, argues, talks, tells the story unbiased,  then waits for verdict. kyo thinks he doesn’t deserve to be alive, thus, tells the story with server bias towards judging himself as unworthy. HE decided the verdict & didnt wait for tohru: “ I cant forgive ME! I dont want you to forgive me either” That’s why toru’s words fall flat. “ why cant you see the truth: I love you” he can’t tohru!! cuz right now it is NOT abt love. It is abt trauma!

4- Sever guilt & desire for disappearance (death):

As adults our mistakes loom over us & we’re constantly reminded of the “ what if I had acted differently”. This ties with kyo witnessing his mom’s horrible death at 4 years old. Death in itself is scary. A loved ones death is devastating. Watching it unfold in shocking unprepared way is destructive. kyo was destroyed. Not enough: he gotta carry the guilt as his dad & the sohma hammer the accusations. He gets another chance & loves another person. Only to watch the blood splash reach his shoes. “Guilty” whispers the past. “Guilty” confirms the present. He stands in front of the most precious person to him. Now what? If tohru forgives you, the pain goes away???? You wouldn’t repeat the ultimate mistake of killing her, would you? you ominous creature. Her mom warned you. The nightmare stands hovering over kyo’s head, waiting to come true. IT WILL COME TRUE!!! OMG!!!

if Akito does it. It wouldn’t be kyo’s fault, right?  If the car hit kyoko, it’s not my fault, right? if my mom did it herself, it wouldn’t be my fault, right?

But if only kyo didnt ran away, tohru would be alive. If only I pulled kyoko, she wouldn’t have died. If only I wasn’t born, mom wouldn't have killed herself.

The “ if only “ that killed kyo’s mom as she lamented “ if only I gave birth to the rat” will eventually destroy kyo! ugh!!! AMAZING WRITING!!!

5- The Right Time to Heal (self-desire or outside help?):

When yuki was trapped in Akito’s room, haru visited to help. did yuki accept it? NO. yuki didnt even remember much of it. Why? cuz it wasn’t the right time & yuki was too deep into darkness to notice, to accept & to change. It wasnt until he was out, in co-ed school, rebelling against akito, when tohru came, he accepted her, then it lead him to accept School Council & haru. Tohru had Arisa & hana, but never went to them in her darkest moment, hiding she was living in a tent, they were hurt & confronted her, still she kept hiding her fears, sadness & darkest thoughts, interfering in Arisa’s life to provide help, but never allowing them to interfere, until kyo came & broke her mask, she started to complain, talk, show true emotions & want things! She opened up to Isuzu, too. Arisa & hana weren’t the right ppl at the right time for tohru to heal. Kyo had kazuma to teach him better, kyoko to make him notice his mistakes, tohru to love him unconditionally, the right ppl, but all that was in the wrong time cuz he’s in his darkest moment now like yuki was, unable to see or accept. Healing requires self-desire & outside help, but it gotta be in the right moment, when you can see beyond the abyss & into the faint light of dawn. That’s when words will reach the heart. Kyo need to fall so hard, in order to stand up again. Today, he unloaded his burden, threw up the disgust he felt towards himself, spewed all the hate against the real bad guy: himself! Kyo is kyo’s bad guy, has always been. He needs to let go of hating himself & accept the kind gentle kyo that kyoko & tohru saw ~

Side Notes:

This ep is why furuba wins & deserves 20 years of recognition among manga-readers! this story is real! it is NO sweet fairy tale of two lovers. It is abt one’s self & desire to live. All of them struggle with  this particular desire: kyo, tohru, yuki & the rest.

kid kyo was looking for young tohru all night! T_T

this ep of kyo confessing/ narrating his past , reminded me of yuki’s 3 eps of him confessing/ narrating his past!!! ugh! I wish tohru had that! ahhhh.

The 4 months in the mountains weren’t training!!!!! they were depression & suicidal thoughts! ouch!!

Perspectives are what dictate our feelings: Through yuki’s eyes, kyo was so happy with a loving father, friends around him & a house outside the sohmas. Thus, yuki envied him & wished to die not knowing kyo was living in trauma & feeling utter contempt & self-loath. Through kyo’s eyes, yuki was so happy with a living loving family, friends around him & a house with respect. Thus, kyo envied him & wished to die Not knowing that yuki was suffering abuse & neglect!

I love the pacing of this ep!!! It gives room to feel pain & understand the situation!!! I didn’t feel the headache of the bullet train!! THANK GOD!!! SO SATISFIED!!! I was invested all the time!

kyoko’s “ I’ll never forgive you” really destroyed kyo & went beyond it to destroy her own daughter! AAAAAAHHHH ~ T_T

I have some issues with the “ I forgot” part. It makes no sense that they make him forget the accident only to do the cheap cliff hanger in ep 6, then lazily weave it into his confession to tohru in ep. 8. He always remembered the accident. Apologized to tohru in her sleep in se01. ep14 for that exact accident, Then in se02, ep 9. It was ALWAYS in his mind! ALWAYS. Sorry Mr. Director. very lame try. lol.

The only thing I didn’t like is the music! very weird choices throughout the ep! especially at the end. Why a happy music over kyo’s “ I’m disappointed in you? lol!! its sad & tragic?! weird!!!!

I will talk abt Tohru will be in part 2. (her choice, kyo’s answer to her & the need to let go of her mom, the sohmas & of... kyo.

[osir-ethria]

This is long as I began writing and couldn’t stop but enjoy if you decide to stop and read it.

When team RWBY plus Jaune and Neo return everyone’s gotta be tackling them.

If not tackling then please let it be emotional for the Vacuo survivors. They thought RWBYJ, and Neo but not too emotional for her because she was the enemy but y’know, was dead. I can imagine this.

Nora tackling Jaune, like how she tackled Oscar (the tag says ozcar... Omfg), crying and calling him an idiot while Ren rushes over falling next to them and holding him there with Oscar short after.

Qrow pulls Yang and Ruby into a hug and starts crying which is the first time his nieces have seen him like this. They smile and hug him tighter as he goes off on how he thought no couldn’t handle loosing more people he loved, aka Summer. (I don’t think they had anything romantic I just like to say that they had more of a sibling bond than him and Raven.)

Sun would most likely be there and I’d like to see Ilia there because she witnessed the message that was broadcasted all over the world. She would have found out that Blake’s ‘dead’ but seeing her there would make her happy. Balked would be hugged by both of them as they cry and she’s tearing up happily as she tries to calm them.

Emerald, Ace Ops, Happy Huntresses, team CVFY, and their other found friends in Vacuo would be standing to the side. As well as Winter who’s pulled away because she still blames herself and saw Weiss dissipate into golden light and can’t believe what she’s seeing. She got a little closer as she would but stops herself as she feels undeserving of that affection.

(Or she full on runs to her and pulls her into a huge hug as she breaks down crying but wait I’m not done.)

Whitley full on tackles Weiss, she doesn’t fall but she does lose a little balance. (He isn’t that meaty still but he’d be working on it... I hope.) He’d cling onto his older sister like a life line, crying as Weiss hugs him back. His tears becoming happy as he is reminded of that warmth the first time they hugged. Willow would be right after, remember Winter is still in the background just standing stunned and ashamed, pulling Weiss and Whitley into the most protective motherly hold.

I would say Klein would hug her but I’m sure he’d wait. He was closest to her besides Winter and he knows her boundaries plus Winter hasn’t hugged her yet.

When Weiss realizes that Winter’s warmth isn’t there she lightly pulls away from Willow, still holding Whitley as she looks over to Winter. She can see Winter frozen, paler now than she was in Atlas looking as if she’d seen a ghost. (Now don’t mind me as I add some dialogue and story narration.)

_________

Weiss - “Winter...”

Winter freezes more, sucking in a breath. She remembers the look Weiss is giving her just like the one she had before running from the Academy and being announced as a criminal. Before Atlas fell apart. It was remorseful, full of sadness and pity.

Winter - “Wei-“

She tries to stutter something out but she can’t say it. It doesn’t come out and she feels like she’s breaking. She wishes that she could hide behind a wall but all this time, after losing Weiss she couldn’t put up that barrier anymore unless it was in a battle. She had lost her sister seeing her disappear in front of her, dying but here she was alive. She had gotten lucky but she doesn’t feel like she deserves this, this chance to see Weiss again.

She looks up to see Weiss pull away from Whitley entirely only holding onto his wrist, turning to face Winter. There was no more pity in her eyes, no it wasn’t there to begin with she had just a massive amount of sadness, remorse, something else Winter couldn’t describe. That look however broke Winter. Tears now flowing from the older sister’s eyes still nothing coming out of her mouth. Winter’s vision blurring as she couldn’t concentrate, Weiss becoming a blur and all the prior exhaustion she had from countless nights of ensuring civilians safety was catching up to her.

She could feel gravity weighing on her, then an off balance before she felt gravity take its effect on her entire body. She’s falling now, fatigue finally getting the best of her as she closes her eyes awaiting impact of the rough, sandy, earth of Vacuo... but it never comes at least not entirely. She’s on her knees now being held up by something. Winter doesn’t move for a second before her tired curiosity got the better and she reaches for what’s holding her.

She feels something, something soft, alive. She can hear a beating heart and finally feels the two arms around her back that had been wrapped around her to catch her. Her vision, still slightly blur from the tears, cleared of fatigue and tiredness as she began to address what had caught her. She the blues, pastel lilac, inner red tones, the blues and whites. She see the pale skin and remembers the softness of it every time she had held it. She can see the glint of metal as a familiar sword, one someone was so excited to show her when it had gotten finished as it was a self custom design.

She remembers this warmth that feels like home, calmness, and entire comfort. Her little sister’s touch which had managed to snap her out of rages against their bastard of a father. The one she yearned to feel again after what happened in the other dimensional road way. The warmth she had full freedom to break in but refused as she didn’t want to be veiled as week, but now. Now she wanted to break, to fall apart in her sister’s arms. Apologize for everything, for being so put back, for not following the first second she noticed Ironwood slip, for not catching her when she tried to save her from all other hardships, but it wouldn’t come out.

Instead all she could do was move her arms around Weiss and hold her sister’s warm, blood pumping, heart beating, alive form with distress. Her head still resting a top Weiss chest so she can hear the heart beat bot not in a way that makes it loud and clear or hurts Weiss. Her Ingres tighten around the clothing her sister has on before she starts stuttering out, or attempting to stutter out anything.

Winter - “I-I’m sorry W-Weiss.”

All that’s coming out now are stutters of an apology. Apology for what? The she couldn’t get to her in time? For not being there for her more? Not being as open with her emotions as Weiss was with her? Not telling her what she thought of her little sister and how proud she is of her? Maybe all of those. She can’t say anything else but feels one of Weiss’s hand remove itself from her back which only Winter can reciprocate with clutching Weiss tighter. She feels that hand on her cheek as she’s forced to look up, right at her sister, and into Weiss’ eyes. That sadness still there but there is a smile on her face, an understanding and relief in her eyes.

Weiss - “Don’t be sorry.”

Don’t be sorry? What... why not? Especially after everything that happened. After all the times she’s failed her. Why was she being so forgiving to her? Is all Winter could think of as her jaw clenched, more tears began building, her eyes squinting now at the sun that was so conveniently behind Weiss, outlining her form. She couldn’t deny Weiss’s beauty even when she was younger than this.

Her sister’s hair down and draped over her shoulders, all curled from being in a braid far maybe a little to long. Her scar over her left eye the one she got from father’s test to be allowed to go to Beacon, a smile that radiated warmth and an inward kindness, a softer look in her eyes as they glazed over once again with relief. Winter’s muscles slacked a lot at this view as she remembered all those stories that portrayed stories of beautiful angels sent down to protect and spread wellbeing’s among others. That guardian angel that each individual was to get that would disguise itself and ensure their individual was protect. Now Winter never believed those stories to be true, but she’d couldn’t help but think if her sister was that guardian angel meant to protect her and not the other way around.

She thought for years that she was protecting Weiss but instead she was being protected by her or was all her supports to fragile heart, holding it together when she felt as if she failed from pulling Whitley away from Jacques. Her drive and momentum to keep gong to ensure that one day she could fully be free, and when following Ironwood failed she was rescued again by Weiss and her drive to save the lives of Mantle. No, she wasn’t just Winter’s guardian angel, she was Whitley’s and mother’s safe haven as well.

Picking them up if every they were to fall, and waiting for them, reaching out, pulling them from darkness, and helping them shatter their mirrors’. Helping all those who were suffering by the use of her songs no matter how angry it made Jacques or how much she was struggling for freedom as well. Changing all those expectations on has of Schnees when they meet her and get to know her.

Still when she was finally brought back to reality at the tilt of Weiss’s head and growing smile as a thumb ran over Winter’s cheek again and again. Speaking once more with her soft and calm voice.

Weiss - “You’re my sister and I could never blame you for anything that happened.”

This broke Winter as her tears came falling out without pause. She buried her head into Weiss’s chest needing to hear her heart beat. Holding her closer and tighter but still nothing. Well not until...

Weiss - “I love you Winter. I will always even if I’m dead, sister.”

I love you.

There it came, all at once the pain, remorse, sorrow, distraught, but most importantly relief. Relief that her sister was alive, that she survived. Relief that she was holding her. That, whatever fucked up fate this world had going for it, she could hold her sister again and was given a second chance.

That she’d defeat anything in her path if to ensure that this unlikely chance was not wasted one bit.

_______________

Wellllll.......... I got carried away with Winter finding how to express her emotions again. Began writing and couldn’t stop. Maybe I should make more of these just with different characters and not pick on Winter’s fragile state...

Or I could continue this Schnee angst and cry myself to sleep.

Anyways, I’ve got one more thing for the reunion.

Emerald is hugged, lightly but not without meaning as she holds onto the people that first called her a friend who she thought died. She’s crying by now as well.

Qrow also hugs Weiss and Blake, by now I’ll say he adopted Blake and Weiss and holds them close to his heart like family. This surprises everyone minus the people that travelled with them for most of their journey. Especially when Weiss and Blake hug him back just as tight, well Weiss a little less because she’s not used to being physically affectionate with anyone other than her team and the repaired bonds between her and her siblings and mother.

Klein gets a hug from Weiss because he is true Schneeblings’ dad, and to top it off all of his split personalities fight for control as he cries about how worried he was and how much he missed her.

After that Weiss drags Winter over to Whitley and holds them both close as Willow hugs them. Them just standing there, not entirely fixed but just glad that all the pieces to fix their family was there again.

And that’s my take on a reunion. And no I’m not sorry about the Winter and Weiss angst with hurt/comfort.

[adrrianraines]

―of knights and kings. | (hunter)

genre: coming of age book: the royal masquerade characters: hunter fierro, kayden vescovi + sensory prompts 6) walking through the woods; 46) the waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed. hunter taglist: @princess-geek @kamisayeed @onomatorina

disclaimer: welcome to another episode of my writing exercises lmao. reviews and feed backs are always welcome!! it would be lovely xx

HE’S EIGHT YEARS OLD when the weight of his family name began to make sense. And for the first time, his eyes looked at the world in an entirely different angle. He hears his own ragged breathing despite the heave of his chest, great expectations reflected in his parents’ eyes making him fret. This was a circumstance he accepted upon receiving the responsibility of being the appointed next head of house. The rattle of leaves and the sway of the wind were no longer something he can prize, no longer something he can enjoy. So his heart cries, and mourns for the loss of his own youth.

Rest easy as his mother would say, but knowing his father will never let it be. Many times had he wanted to escape and be free―to breathe, explore and bask under the high spring sun. But he knew better than to thwart, and so he embarks on a mission, to vigorously follow after his father’s path, making him proud. Setting it in stone that he’d make his name be remembered by all the great achievements he’d conquer.

But great leaders rests too, and so does he, as he readies himself to sleep, carrying a torch of hope for a new beginning.

He’ll make his family proud tomorrow.

He’s nine years old when his mind began to think of various things outside his responsibility. Wandering in the midst of a lesson, pressing the wrong piano keys, even spacing out during sparring. He’d ponder, as much as the countless books he’d read, that little boys his age ran around freely, so why can’t he? But the lack of focus would earn him quite a mouthful from his father. Afterwards, he’d spend time outside, but only to an extent until he would be dragged to countless lessons being pounded inside his head.

So he tries again as his eyes adjust to the light that seeped through draperies, smiling against the chirps of the birds and the smell of morning dew slipping through the cracks of wooden frameworks. It’s another day, he’d think, as he’d rush towards the windows, yanking open the curtains to savour the leaves among the trees and the call of animals waking up that day. Then he’d turn to the voice of his sister’s giggle, just standing outside his door, beckoning him that breakfast was ready and their father wouldn’t want them to be late at the dining table.

He loves her so much and always, always wished her well.

He’s ten years old when he was taught the etiquette of court entertainment. Various noble ladies, friends a few, would make a point of how he grew to be a fine-looking boy. But of course, his father would laugh it off, stating that no Fierro was ever born without the grace of good looks. And he’ll start to feel a bit better about himself.

He was taught to read between the lines―ascertain real intentions yet never exposing his own, use the chance to his advantage, play it within his grasp and toss it after it’s used. The lessons were strict, but he had to endure. All these were imprinted to him, pointing that the nobles were all fickle and vulnerable in the guise of a dance. By then he’d already be equating the sick methods to the melody of waltz.

Flamboyant dinner galas were what his family creates, and he was accustomed to tradition. As aureate as these functions can be, he never fancied such notion.

But no one knew about it―of what he really felt. And he plans to keep it to himself.

He’s fifteen years old when he was introduced properly to society as the young Lord of House Fierro. One would think it was a celebratory affair, however, the steel grip of his father on his shoulders cancels the mirth. Five years passed, nothing changed, knowledge and ideas poured to his head, sealed shut, never intending to escape. In the midst of it all, nobody listened, his mind feeling like it was no longer his own to interpret. It frustrated him to no end, feeling like he didn’t have the steer of his own sails.

He’d rebel by then, his own form of silent cry. Tete-a-tete in courtly gatherings became a norm, kissing one lip and pouring compliments for another, squeezing them dry. The wiles he acquired through the years were never well-meant for this, but it was his diversion. Being in court felt like crashing inside a den of vultures who circled up in their snobbish, high social statuses, ready to devour the weak and undeserving. But he must revel in the numerous opportunities he can use to his will, like a magician twisting the realm to alter it towards his version of reality.

His thoughts were interrupted when a lady asked him for a dance as he remembered where he was. He offered a smile, gaze raking in everything she presented bare. She flirtatiously batted her eyelashes his way, and boy―who was he to deny an affair? Fifteen year old Hunter was rash, but he was not stupid. She was beautiful, the elegant gown hugging tightly her curves, steering to his grasp, away from the ballroom floor.

And he’d offer her a smile so captivating, finally putting his masquerade on.

He’s sixteen years old when he and his sister had a fight. She wanted to be the one to learn about Cordonia’s recorded history and more. She didn’t talk to him for days, arguing that he knew well that it was one thing she desired most. Perhaps hormones would be to blame for the outburst? After all, they are both teens growing like fine wine.

He tried talking to his father, wanting to make his sister happy. However, only dismissal was given. Stating as far as that if Renza craved the privilege of wanting to have the world at her feet, she’d need to prove herself to be worthy of the Fierro name. Then one day, out of the blue, his sister hugged him tight and whispered, I’m with you brother, I’m with you. Forever and always, I will be your sister.

However, her words never mirrored her real emotions.

He’s seventeen when House Vescovi came to visit, the head of House wanting to speak to his father. He was out in the gardens, sporting a rapier, wearing an armor as he stood in a battle stance against the opponent assigned to train him.

Then there was a lad who looked lost and quiet yet calm and collected. He was standing a few feet off, gazing their way. His eyes drifted its focus towards the new face he’d seen, causing him to lose his concentration, eventually getting defeated. Their instructor ordered a small break as Hunter’s curiosity brought him towards the mysterious guest.

“Who are you?” He’d ask, and there was never an answer. By then, little did he know, that he found himself more than what he bargained for―in the form of a friendship that he came to associate with the brood of a dark, starless sky. But despite the lack of words, each day, he’d see him in their estate, observing, watching, however, never letting himself near. Until one afternoon, Hunter found the Vescovis departing as he watched one Cyrus Vescovi play tricks for some sick amusement.

Not his problem, so he thinks.

He’s eighteen when there’d been an attempt at their life. He’d never been the same.

They were on their way to meet the Queen when their carriage was ambushed in the woods and he got separated from his family during the attack. Latching himself into the darkness of the shrubs, afraid for his life and without a weapon at hand. He felt lost, utterly and terribly devastated that years of knowledge never prepared him for such endeavors.

There was a rustle in the shrubs as he tentatively stepped back, bile almost spilling, mouth quivering, hands shaking. He thought, it’s the end, it’s the end, but to his surprise, the heavens smiled down upon him. And he’d never been more relieved to see the Vescovi boy emerge from the shadows.

Then he lifted his brow and asked, “What are you doing here?”

And he still remembered how the other laughed at the question. “Saving you.”

He was about to speak when his arm was pulled and he was yanked to the sidelines, causing him to lose balance. His eyes watched at how the other pulled a short sword from his waist, using the hilt to hit the neck of the assailant with fast reflexes, ease and expertise. They watched him fall to the ground, unconscious as Hunter gaped and struggled to normalize his breathing, unable to find words.

He was stunned and speechless when he was offered help with a welcoming hand ready to pull him up again.

“Kayden.” The other’s quiet voice echoed through the night, like the sound of the crickets and the soft hum of fluttering leaves. “My name is Kayden.”

“Hunter.” He said, breathless as he propped himself up with a ridiculous smile on his face. It felt as if he was young again, out in the woods, exploring it with a friend, if not for such dire circumstances.

“I know. I’ve been told.” Kayden responded and a hint of a smile at the edge of his mouth made Hunter laugh despite the adrenaline pumping his veins.

“You do talk. And smile.” Despite the obvious teasing, Kayden shrugged it off and began to trek their way back, the crunch of branches on their feet a soothing noise, the soft soil on the ground a mush, and the temporary companion shaking away his fear a delight.

And so, the blades of destiny successfully carved the king and the knight.

He was twenty three years old and he’s the appointed heir to the throne. Queen Kendra was deeply fond of him. And in her, he found a mother. Yet, despite the security of his lineage, the legacy of his family name, the future of his Kingdom-his desire to rule and be the King that Cordonia deemed worthy, he can’t deny his hands weren’t stained. He was different. He’s never the same.

“I can’t… I can’t do this.” He looks at his hands and he sees the scars from years of failures and desperation, and he realizes, dear heavens, that something wasn’t right. But Kayden was there, silently watching over him, equally sharing the burden.

“My hands are more stained than yours.” He’d say to ease him and Hunter would only sigh despite the efforts.

He opens his mouth, closes it again, drowning. The constricting beating of his heart forces him the desire to escape, every inch of his being to scream. He didn’t know if he deserved it—if he wanted to sit on a throne he knew that somehow, he never deserved. And he’d think back to his family, to his father, who so much as he grew, never graced him a smile to convey that he was proud.

“What if I’ll never be the King this country deserves?” To be twice the man he could be, he’d desire nothing more— to perform well his duties by heart. But he was no King. He’s only a man with a title, born into nobility, hands stained with all the sins he accumulated through the years. Disgusted, revolted and doubtful of himself, he doesn’t risk another glance toward Kayden.

He just can’t.

“I will be with you until the end of the line.” The words he never knew he needed to hear resonated deep within as he felt Kayden squeeze his shoulder. His dear friend’s voice the anchor that’s saving him from drowning against the wild currents of his thoughts.

He cracks a smile so small it wasn’t almost visible. Then, he steadies himself, taking a step forward and forward for a renewed resolve that’s high, soaring, as his hands outstretched to whatever lies beneath his path and even beyond that.

He need not to fret. He’s never alone.

For the path of the King was forged with the Knight’s a long time ago.

[brakken]

On Homecoming

Here’s my stream of consciousness about Spider-Man: Homecoming.

Strap in, there are spoilers and a lot of words ahead.

Right out the gate, I gotta say this:

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 is my favourite Spidey film. 

I know it isn’t perfect - I have my own criticisms toward it, but I feel a lot of the hate it gets is undeserved, and I believe my reasons for liking it are valid. I also don’t consider my regard for it to be blind love for anything Spidey-related. I’m not a fan of Raimi’s Spider-Man 3, and I find ASM1 has huge problems. I think Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 is an incredibly well-made movie, and having re-watched it recently, it’s easy to understand why most people (myself included) consider it one of the greatest superhero films ever made. However - I don’t consider it the greatest Spidey film. That title is held by Marc Webb & Co.’s 2014 underperformer, with a current rating of 52% on Rotten Tomatoes. There is an inherent feel in that movie, which for me captures the magic and identity of what I see in Spidey as a character. But, this isn’t about ASM2.

I mention it, because I want to express how difficult it was - how scary - to go into the cinema and watch Homecoming. For most audiences, this was potentially the first good Spidey film since Raimi’s 2. For me, it was following a film that I hold very close to my heart. And it took me two viewings to fully come to terms with my opinion on it:

Spider-Man: Homecoming is pretty good.

It’s not as good as Raimi’s 2, nor ASM2 (for me), but I’ve realised it’s not entirely fair to compare it to the second instalments of those series. Up against Spider-Man 1 and ASM1? It holds its own quite well. It’s pretty good. And if its first go can be pretty good, then the sequel has every opportunity to be pretty great.

While Homecoming has plenty of fun moments - of genuinely good moments… there simply aren’t enough memorable moments. As the sixth Spidey film, and as another episode in the MCU, it doesn’t hold enough of its own iconography to stand above its predecessors and peers. It’s clearly shooting for that ‘neighborhood’ feeling, and succeeds in that – but in doing so sacrifices opportunities for spectacle. And when it does step out into the big time, it’s all too similar to what we’ve seen already. Catching the elevator harkens right back to Raimi’s Spidey 1, with a bit of Gwen’s fall from ASM2 in the mix. When Spidey holds the ferry together, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the train sequence from Raimi 2 (plus Cap w/ the helicopter from Civil War). Nothing about how Spidey moved was overly unique or noteworthy to this iteration.

I have issues with the suit having such advanced tech - and to illustrate my problem I want to lay out the foundations of a general storyline involving the Symbiote: Spidey receives a new suit, it gives him enhanced strength, speed, and stamina. It increases the versatility of his web-shooting and makes his spider-sense react even faster. Beyond even that, the suit can talk to him - offering its own guidance and insight into his life. He begins to rely more and more on it. Becomes addicted to it. Until, he is able to realise it’s doing more harm than good, and ultimately abandons it - returning to his classic costume with a newfound understanding of his own strengths.

 Now, imagine after all that, he puts the black suit on again. And the story ends there. This is Homecoming. Sure, the suit isn’t directly affecting his biology or personality, but it represents newfound ability from a source not his own that he begins to rely too much on. Once it’s taken away from him, he’s back to basics - faced with the reality of hard decisions. He defeats the villain with his own strength, and having reached further clarity, turns down the Avengers position - happy with who he is, and comfortable with where he is. Then Tony gives him the suit back. Yes, he has fulfilled his character arc, and may very well use the suit responsibly in the future. But the suit in this case - is symbolic of him getting in over his head. A return of the suit equates to a return of that trait.

There’s a bit of a ‘wait and see’ that goes along with that (one of the track names on the OST suggests that Tony returned the suit without all the gadgets), but to cap off a movie which took efforts to showcase that relying on the bells and whistles is a bad thing, and handling the costume downgrade in the finale so well, it seems entirely backwards to me to then conclude with ‘yay! the bells and whistles are back!’

Karen presents an additional problem. She is, like J.A.R.V.I.S. in Iron Man 1, a non-character. An implement to give the protagonist and audience information when otherwise we’d be left confused or it would seem contrived to have our hero break into monologue. However, unlike J.A.R.V.I.S., she gives advice to Peter. She compliments him and gives insight into his personal life. To attribute this role to what is naught but a natural language UI is damaging to the actual active players in Peter’s life. It robs opportunity from Aunt May and Peter’s school friends to do the same, people with actual stake in interacting with him and who can experience the good and bad consequences of it.

To be clear, I get all this is purposeful in the context of the story. But it feels like the plot to a second film, mixing things up once we’ve established the characters in the first. Instead, we focus on them only long enough so they can fulfil certain trope moments before Karen, Happy Hogan, and Tony take centre stage in Peter’s life.

The suit’s design itself… I almost love. There are a few small things that bug me when I think of this as his standard get-up, but it has definitely grown on me since Civil War. Vulture’s suit, on the other hand, effing rocks and is the best thing ever and I love it. It’s everything I could have hoped for from a live-action Vulture.

Let’s talk about the opening Civil War vlog. Small inconsistencies in movies are easily forgiven, and it can be considered nit-picking to point them out as flaws or plot-holes of the movie. But the little things can go a long way to keep the audience from asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. Questions like:

Why was Peter shown as only having older tech in Civil War but in the opening vlog of Homecoming he has a modern smartphone? Why does he say ‘Holy shit!’ in Civil War when reacting to Giant-Man but in the opening vlog he says ‘he’s big now, gotta go’? Why does he have a bruise over his eye in the Civil War post-credits scene but looks unwounded in Homecoming while in Tony’s car (a scene which takes place presumably minutes earlier)?

All these questions can be answered. With ‘oh Tony gave him the phone’ or ‘He said “Holy shit” after the camera cut away’ but I think it’s a shame that what should have been a fairly easy and smooth lead-in to this movie is riddled with these little questions.

 On the note of lead-ins, I know we’re meant to be sick of origin stories at this point - particularly Spider-Man’s. Even so, I can’t help but feel like we’ve missed out on seeing this Peter’s beginnings. If the MCU is going to be Spidey’s home for the foreseeable future, I really want it to be the most secure - and having no solid concept of his backstory puts that on shaky ground. There isn’t that much to it. Bitten by spider, yep. Uncle’s dead, probably. But there’s still a lot you can explore surrounding that - so why not give us a bit more insight into how this one is unique? I knew they weren’t going to do an origin, but in doing so it’s created an odd-one-out within the MCU, wherein every titular character has had some level of on-screen genesis. I’m not very keen on prequels and flashbacks, so at least for me, they’ve kinda missed their chance. And that feels unfair.

I want to briefly touch on the scene-to-scene presentation. In my experience, scenes in stories should typically serve two purposes. The first is the subtext; to establish elements of the overarching theme or foreshadow future events. While the second purpose is the literal; to deliver a short yet satisfying arc within the scene itself, masking the subtext with smaller pieces of story. Here’s an example using the pizza delivery scene from Raimi’s Spider-Man 2:

Subtext: Peter struggles with managing his double life. His misfortunes are increasing in severity until finally he quits being Spider-Man.

Literal: Peter fails to deliver the pizza in time, and as a result, is fired from his job.

Compared to the deli scene from Homecoming:

Subtext: Establish the deli and its owner in the story so that when it’s destroyed, both Peter and the audience can witness the danger of the weapons Toomes is making, and witness Peter’s naivety and inexperience as a hero.

Literal: Peter buys a sandwich and pets a cat.

 That’s it. That’s the scene. Yes, he has some playful banter with the deli owner, but it doesn’t affect anything by scene’s end. It’s leaning mostly, if not completely on its overarching purpose, leaving the specifics of the scene in relative unimportance. My immediate reaction after the scene finished was ‘wait, why did we need to see that’? My reaction once I got home was ‘how did this scene end up in a Spider-Man movie’?

The film is rife with these one-track moments. At times, it avoids this, and I feel that’s where it’s at its best. The scene with Aaron Davis is a notable favourite of mine because it succeeds in delivering strongly on both the short and long term. The opening scene beneath Avengers Tower is also a fairly solid miniature arc while setting up the villain’s motivation for the remainder of the movie.

This one-track feeling bleeds into the characters at times, too. Particularly that of Michelle, who as far as the film is concerned is only there to say a witty remark before vanishing from the scene entirely… and then later, be MJ. (note: I actually don’t mind this change. It’s just a weird start for her and an unnecessary twist, that only leads to an unpolished character with the promise of more, rather than someone memorable and important from the get-go. She’s on the poster for gosh sake. I’m open to liking her, there’s just nothing to go on yet. I sure liked the way she… tilted her head up and squinted occasionally?)

I don’t think this makes any of these parts of the film bad. Only, less complete - less functioning as parts of a whole.

A scene that I do consider bad, though, is the death of the first Shocker. It’s a somewhat tropey scene - lackey steps out of line, head villain disposes of him out of spite and necessity, establishing that he can and will commit murder to achieve his goal. But, it doesn’t end there. After Toomes fries Shocker to a crisp with one of the pieces of alien weaponry, he looks surprised, saying ‘I thought this was the anti-gravity gun’. This is played for laughs, but at the expense of a cheap joke, they’ve thrown Toomes’ conviction into question. If he thought it was the anti-grav gun, did he not plan on killing his lackey? Does that mean his threats against Peter later are empty? Or was the plan always to kill the lackey, it’s just that he wanted to use the anti-grav gun to do it? But then why during the climax when he has Spidey defeated, does he go for the cargo instead of finishing him off? I can’t answer any of these questions because his conviction is made unclear, all from a simple, throwaway line. It’s a real shame, because I love pretty much every other scene with Vulture.

 That includes the familial twist. On the outside, it’s a little cheap. But the groundwork is laid from the very first moment of the movie. I wish it had been more original insofar as a villain’s personal connection to Spidey, instead of ‘oh it’s the dad again’ – however, it’s so well-implemented and revealed at just the right time to force Peter into a power/responsibility moment that I can’t help but enjoy it. Toomes driving Peter and Liz to the dance is wonderfully tense (possibly my favourite scene, and it’s just a car ride).

There are some genuinely great scenes beyond that. I actually teared up when Peter tells May he lost the internship, which is a first for me in a Spidey film (yes, even with ASM2 as my favourite in the series, I didn’t tear up at Gwen’s fall). Racing to the top of the monument has excellent pacing and presentation. Being trapped beneath the rubble and finally breaking free was an incredible performance from Tom Holland. As earlier mentioned, interrogating Aaron Davis has plenty of charm.

The score is good. Sometimes, it’s damn good. There are some really stand-out tracks. It just… isn’t on par overall with Elfman’s or Zimmer’s stuff. Raimi’s films and ASM2 come out strong from the beginning with their themes, and continue to play off them in new and interesting ways to cater to the moods of the scenes. Homecoming starts with the 60’s cartoon theme, and proceeds to never use it again. Giacchino’s original theme never steps up to be as memorable, and was only at its best when it wasn’t trying to be the theme. Vulture’s music rocks and is good forever – though I craved more variation to it. It seemed like every time he showed up we were hit with bahhh bwa-bah bah-BWAHHHH. It leaves something to be desired when compared to Electro’s music from ASM2 -  which is a constant in his scenes but always escalating to reflect his development. So, I guess as a character with only a little development, Vulture’s music is acceptable? I dunno, I might have just talked myself around on that one, haha. Nice to have some memorable MCU villain music, anyway. I love it a lot – just wish they’d played around with it more.

Spidey wrecked a lot of stuff in this movie, and it gives me some cause for concern that the filmmakers are going down the ‘everything is his fault’ route. I’ve talked a bit about this before, but I’m not a huge supporter of this concept. I’m fonder of a Spider-Man that takes responsibility, rather than one who’s responsible for everything, if that makes sense. If they’re going more for the ‘clumsy teenager’ route, that’s something I can get behind. But there is a limit. It was effective in the early parts of the film and the high-tension ferry sequence because of what it was saying about Peter and the effect he’s having as Spidey. But the chase through the suburbs, where he smashes or trips over everything he touches, was a little excessive. The last straw for me was when he wrecks Flash’s car. By this point we should start seeing character changes coming into effect, but they insist on presenting him as unable to face a new obstacle without breaking something.

I suppose I could go on and on, but I gotta call it at some point, right? So, I want to round all this off by just talking about some things I really liked.

Making Adrian’s whole deal that he’s a scavenger is such a cool way to get across the ‘vulture’ vibe and a great tie-in to the established MCU framework. The Shocker switcheroo was a fun subversion of expectations. Practical wall-crawling is just getting better and better. Stopping the bike thief and then not knowing where to return it is so ‘Spidey’. May helping Peter get ready for Homecoming is exactly what I could have asked for. The diversity of the cast in an MCU film was surprising and refreshing. Seeing Peter make his web fluid, and change his web cartridges mid-battle is something I’ve hoped to see for a while. Everyone in the cinema was having a great time and it was fun being a part of that.

So, that’s where I’m at. I’m at ‘pretty good’. At first it was hard to accept that. Hard to accept not being absolutely blown away by new Spidey content. But after a second viewing, I’ve come away satisfied, while still a bit sad about ASM2′s undeserved legacy.

If anyone has any thoughts of their own, or different viewpoints on the aspects I talked about, I’m very happy to hear them. I would love to love this film.

[ruwithmeguys]

A little One-Shot

Ok... I hate hiatus's but they’re also perfect for inspiring and fic writing.

Now this is just an indulgent piece of fluff I had too much fun writing but, alas, I only wrote it in 20 mins (I was inspired) because I don’t have a lot of time to spare so if it feels crude or just plain wrong, then I do apologise.

This is for @callistawolf who wanted some new pieces and I thought I’d get the ball rolling, for @hopedreamlovepray who made me fall in love with one-shots and a thank you to @n4r4nch4 who literally cheers me on, even when I feel like I’m undeserving.

I love this fandom!

So I don’t think this will happen in the show but... (If you guys like it, I’ll put it on AO3 later)

.....

Happy.

It’s what she’d hoped for him, them. Eventually. But in all honesty; she’d had trouble believing it could happen... till a couple of weeks ago that is.

Now they were here, on Lian Yu.

Everything that shouldn’t have happened, happened, and everything they didn’t expect to did as well: the good and the bad.

Black Siren was gone. She truly was the exact opposite of the Laurel they’d known. She’d disappeared, injured as she was, during Oliver’s fight with Slade and none of them had the heart – nor the energy – to search for her.

But they would.

Later.

Adrian was gone. Dead... but Oliver hadn’t killed him. Thankfully he’d walked an unexpected path.

Oliver. Eyes closing, listening to the sound of the waves at her feet, Felicity remembered...

“Come on Oliver; it’s simple. Look.” Hand fisted in Felicity’s hair, he yanked backwards until her throat was exposed - her body pressed to his front - and held one of his daggers beneath her throat. “I’ll make it easy for you.” His eyes unblinkingly on Oliver’s, Adrian stressed each and every word. “If you don’t kill me - if you don’t shoot an Arrow into my neck - I will kill the woman you’ve been pretending not to love.”

It took an age for a response to come.

Without a weapon, he’d stood there – Oliver – as he’d entered the clearing, the place Adrian had hunted Felicity to until she couldn’t keep running anymore, and hadn’t said a word.

He’d just looked at her, seeing her determination, her exhaustion. Her fear.

Her love.

Her resolve. “Don’t.” She forced through her clenched teeth. “Not for me.”

Not anymore.

He couldn’t now. Not after everything. Not even for her.

And he knew that, she could see it. This couldn’t be like the Count. This wouldn’t be him instinctively obeying the mindset of the man who’d used killing as a defence mechanism for survival - a mechanism to protect - for over five years.

This... what had to happen, would be the turning point of his life.

And she was fine with that. “It’s ok.” She whispered; her voice scratchy from lack of water as she watched him watch her. “I’ll be fine.”

“No.” Adrian promised - a smile in his voice - the knife pressing into her neck. “She won’t.”

He was right. He’d kill her. Just to spite Oliver. If Oliver refused to kill him, Adrian would kill her as punishment. And the Oliver Queen she’d started to see again for the first time in 14 months, the Oliver Queen she’d made love to on his birthday - a present full of sex had been due for a while and was, let’s face it, part and parcel for the course between them - where he’d shown her in an explicit and detailed physical exploration with his hands - oh those fingers, she’d missed those fingers - his mouth - the perfect mix of firm and supple softness: pillow mountains - his tongue - this isn’t helping - and his words-

His words.

I’m so sorry I destroyed us.

You made me happy. I haven’t felt that since I took it away.

I didn’t know how to accept that I was worth being loved, that I could be loved by... by you. By Felicity Smoak.

I love you. I never stopped. It never went away, never altered...

I missed you.

Oh, I love it when you do that.

You feel good. Familiar. Yet... different too.

But... still good? (she’d had to ask, to be sure that still wanted her like she wanted him)

No. (And he’d smiled - of course he had - his nose brushing down hers, his fingers trailing warmth and desire over the uncovered skin of her cheeks, her throat, her shoulders and further down...) Better.

Thank you for my birthday...

That Oliver Queen who’d shone through so brightly, he’d disappear. For good this time. Dig wouldn’t be able to pull him out of it; there would be no one to show him his light.

Then he’d kill Adrian.

And after, he’d kill himself. Next to her. Just to be sure she’d be the first thing he’d see when he opened his eyes once more.

If she died here.

Yet still... it was the right choice to make. A choice where there wasn’t really a choice to make.

Oliver knew it, his eyes told her they did, the soft stance of his body told her they did...

Oliver.

If it had to end, if this was how it was supposed to go; she didn’t regret a thing. She’d loved... and had been loved in a way a lot of people can only imagine. She’d found herself inside him, her everything, her forever and her always...

So she smiled at him; it a was watery thing but large enough to see, to show the sheer happiness he’d brought to her, the love she’d felt grow somehow deeper in the two days since they’d slept together. It told him everything he needed to hear without saying anything at all.

And everything that he was, reflected all of that back at her.

How eyes could be so bright and expressive, she didn’t know but his always could and right now they were etching his name into her soul, just like he was taking hers into his own.

“Alright.” He muttered and he didn’t stop looking at her. “Kill her.”

She felt Adrian jolt behind her but didn’t stop looking at her guy, didn’t stop smiling at him. God, I love you. “What?”

“Kill her.” Oliver softly repeated.

“And you’ll just live with that? I don’t think so Oliver.”

“I know you don’t.” Oliver’s hand shifted, a knife of his own sliding into his fingers from his sleeve. “It doesn’t matter because the moment you do, the moment you kill her... I’ll kill myself.” He let out a sigh, his smile falling but his expression was still deeply serene. Like he was seeing in her everything he wanted and was so content with the reality of it, that he wouldn’t be sorry if it ended here either. “And it’ll all be over.”

Still smiling, a tear rolled down her cheek and Oliver watched it fall like he wanted to halt its progress with a finger.

It wasn’t like they wanted to die. There was so much they both wanted from each other, with each other – things they’d spoken of in the quiet after she’d brought him home to rest inside her. But if it had to end here, if it had to be this way... then let it be like this.

Together.

After all, they always been really.

“That... that’s not how this works.”

And like she’d prayed for, Felicity heard the struggle in Adrian’s voice, the need to understand something his brain was incapable of processing.

For the first time Oliver looked away from her to him. “That’s the way it is. “And there was this light in his eyes that made something in her sing as he lifted the blade up to his own throat, preparing to draw a line across it. “I won’t kill you. You don’t deserve for me to kill you. And I don’t need to.”

THIS was Oliver Queen. This was the good she saw, had been seeing since Felicity Smoak? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.

“You don’t think it’s sick, Adrian? That you need me like this?” Throughout it all, Oliver kept his voice low and steady. “You need me so badly that you want me to kill you? I’m so important to you...”

His dagger cut into her skin. “Shut up!”

“Why?” Oliver stared at him. “Does it hurt?”

“You don’t- you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is it the truth?” Oliver whispered. “Confess. You can’t live without me and you can’t kill without me here.” He raised a hand to the world about them in general. “But I won’t kill you. So,” Oliver looked back to her, love and hope an Arrow in his gaze, “what happens next after I’m gone? What will you do?”

Genius.

Before anyone could have done anything though, Rene - having followed Oliver but had been unable to keep up with his sprint - had shot Adrian point blank from the side. He’d died in seconds.

“I made him a promise.” Was all he’d said.

After a moment’s silence, Oliver had moved prompting her to do the same, to obey the need inside her. It just so happened his was the same need as hers.

They’d collided in the middle, his arms tight around her lifting her high off the ground, hoarse words breathed into her skin - I’m here baby - she’d wrapped herself around him, holding him close, breathing him in too and promising to never ever let go.

Spiritually speaking.

Because then they had to deal with the fallout. With Slade, who had a personal grudge against the two of them, the day just wouldn’t end, with Black Siren who’d fled the scene, Boomerang who’d been a giant pain in everyone’s ass... and Evelyn who’d then been killed in action.

A. Very. Long. Day.

She released a breath, letting the wind make a mess of her hair and rustle the trees –the lapping of the oceans waves – lull her very tired body into a peaceful state of rest.

The she felt him behind her...

“I can feel you there,” she murmured, “I couldn’t before.” And she chose – I don’t care if I’m naive – to believe it was because of their connection and not their five year war instilling a new awareness inside her that made this so.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She smiled, and if her voice was throaty - a purr really - well that was his fault. “Oliver, any disturbance by you is a welcome one.”

“Really.”

Not a question.

“Yep.”

“I don’t think the others would appreciate my idea of a disturbance with you.”

Her smile couldn’t get any wider.

His sex voice. Seriously, every time after sex... this voice. How do I live with myself, I just don’t know.

Turning to face him, she chirped. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He moved closer so that the sea was to his left and the jungle, his right. “You ok?”

She really was. He’d helped her there, earlier.

Probably looking profoundly love struck and foolish, she bobbed her head at him; wordless at the way the sun hit his face and lit up his hair. He really is blonde. “You?”

“It’s strange but... I think I am.” It came out in one long exhale. “For the first time in a really long time I don’t feel so... weighed down.”

Thank you God. “That’s a good thing Oliver.”

“It is.” And it was a thing with him, how his eyes on her own - like they could live forever staring into each other’s eyes and it still wouldn’t be enough for him - always left her without the air to make a sound. “You helped me get here.”

Uh, no.  She shook her head. “Oliver, I-”

“You did. I don’t how you do it,” he shook his head; still gazing at her, “but you do it anyway. I thought I wasn’t strong enough and you proved me wrong. I thought I didn’t deserve...” and he paused because whatever he was feeling looked overwhelming and he needed the moment to centre himself. “I thought I didn’t deserve you, that I could never earn you. So I stopped trying. Stopped trying to not be that person who would never be enough all those months ago, before Rene and Rory and Dinah joined the team.” He smiled and she felt it everywhere. “You gave me hope. You got me to believe,” he took a step closer and like a teenager her heart literally skipped a beat, “in my humanity again. I can never thank you for it.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she really didn’t want that, didn’t want him feeling like he owed her that, “you never do. What you did here, what you’ve been trying to do for months... it’s proof of who you are. A good person; the best person I know.” My person.

But the look on his face – the smile in his voice – made her pause.

“I don’t want to thank you.” He whispered, making her blink, whiplash. “I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that you were right.”

Oh wow... “The rest of your life, huh?” And if her voice wobbled with restrained joy, if hers glittered just a tad, she really didn’t care.

He took a pause that felt like years before saying, “Can we start again?”

Er... “What?”

“I want to start over with you. From start to finish. I’m yours. Always have been.” Everything in her was turning into goo. “I want to marry you Felicity. I want to make a baby with you.”

He meant that. She could see it, the promise.

A baby...

A little over a year ago, she’d been too scared to consider the possibility. Though it made her happy, the idea of having Oliver’s child, it had also terrified her. Being in a chair hadn’t been the problem; it was the prospect of failing at being a good mother to any child they had that was.

But now?

How do you contain endless joy in a moment on a beach somewhere in the North China seas?

You don’t.

“I want to live with you.” He continued, watching the changes in her expression with awe and happiness and growing passion. “To fight monsters in the dark with you. The way it should have been. As my partner.”

He was right: the months between then and now, the distance, the chill between them... nothing had felt right, as if something had been perpetually off balance with the world.

But they’d needed it to get here. Sometimes, in order to rise you have to fall first.

Her smile - broken - revealed teeth, her hair stuck to her neck, her eyes described in detail what her lips couldn’t but could only whisper, “No more ‘should haves’.”

No more maybes.

His quiet laugh was choked. “No more.” Like he wanted to touch her, he took another half a step closer (if he moved in further he’d be practically on top of her and she didn’t mind one bit) “A new beginning... with you.”

“That sounds,” she took a breath because this, this was the moment; where forever starts and wouldn’t really end, “perfect.”

Their perfect. Dark times were inevitable, trials... but happiness was due too.

The boyish grin – the laugh still present on his lips – made her want to kiss him. And she would. Soon. But he had something else to say, she could tell.

And she was right. “Felicity Smoak.” He announced, in that soft, deeply masculine way of his that shot straight to her centre, married life is going to be awesome. “Hi.” She frowned when he lifted a hand, barely any room between them for him to do more than let it grace her stomach. “I’m Oliver Queen.”

She stared up at him... then pressed her lips together in understanding, feeling so much the rightness of what he was saying.

Lifting her hand to slide into his waiting fingers, her other tucked her hair behind her ears and affected nerves, shyness. “I know who you are.” Or at least tried to, but the deeper tone that left her was anything but and she knew he felt it in his bones when he licked his lips, when his abdomen jerked against her hand. “You’re Mr Queen.”

His hand tugged her closer, so that her chest touched his. “Mr Queen was my father. And I don’t think,” how his voice could lower any further she wasn’t sure, but it could and it did and ooh... “you’d look at him the way you’re looking at me.”

Oh boy. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like you love me.” Leaning in, the depth in his eyes had her falling into his hold. “Like you want me. Like you’re mine.” He quieted, his eyes looking at her mouth. “Like I’m yours.”

“That’s quite the description.” Accurate too. “So what’s your policy on kissing a stranger you just met on an island no one knows exists?” She teased.

“Oh, it’s my first policy.” Was his shameless, super fast response and a bark of laughter shot out of her, making her eyes close. “But only with you.”

How could she not kiss him with the utter love and feeling he gave her with every word he spoke?

“Come here.” Still laughing, her free hand slid up his throat, to the back of his neck to pull him close-

But he was already right there, smiling against her lips.

(And people, this is where I be cheesy and play ‘I need my girl’ by the Nationals because the song was made for Olicity – please listen to it here)

The feel of his scruff against her skin still made her tingle - she still felt the warmth of him down her sides, her stomach muscles contracting at the sure way his mouth opened hers - and still made her shiver in delight as her smile became a physical expression of everything she felt for him. Seeking, pressing, pushing, chasing his mouth with her own - re-leaning how he tastes, letting her tongue entwine with his - her hands were around his neck in seconds, cradling his head with them just the way he liked. Like she needed him closer and she was letting him know. The way his hands slid over her spine to press her as close – and as tight to him – as humanly possible. And when his fingers slipped into her locks to cup her head as he angled his own and- oh... I’ve missed this.

The kind of kiss that made her forget the world existed.

Her hands moved to drag across his scalp, one of them shifting down under his shirt and pressing into the musculature there, feeling every movement he made and the sound that left him wasn’t a groan or a growl. It was a sigh, one that came from deep in his chest...

She nipped as his upper lip, looking into his hooded eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you.” A firm kiss was followed by another. “I love you Felicity.”

She smiled again, her nose brushing over his, their breaths mingling-

“Oh my God, you weren’t kidding.”

It was also the kind of kiss to make her completely forget they had an audience. Her eyes didn’t open and she figured his didn’t either but she felt Oliver’s lips press together as he exhaled through his nose.

“I warned you.” John. He sounded unbelievably satisfied with himself. “But nope, you wanted to see for yourself. And here it is. The ugly truth.”

She felt Oliver’s chest vibrate and his lips twitch against hers. “He’s just like Tommy.” He muttered, too quietly to be heard by the others.

René just couldn’t accept it. “They’re like... romance novel bad.”

“I think its right.” She heard Dinah say, and she was officially Felicity’s new favourite person. “They should have done this months ago.”

“They should have had sex months ago.” René corrected and she felt the muscles in Oliver’s arm jump. “That amount of chemistry in the Foundry wasn’t healthy.”

She couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that sprang free from her, her head arching back as Oliver held her aloft. Okay, they’re all my favourites.

Oliver’s puff of air made her look back to him. “The children are being unruly.”

“Say what?”

Rene.

“Children?”

Dinah.

“...I’m oddly good with this.”

Rory.

“Are you two beautiful idiots done for the moment?” And Diggle once more; still sounding utterly superior. She’d let him have it. “It’s just, there’s a boat with our name on it, a wife the two of you are reminding me painfully of and a kid I really want to eat shakes with.”

Oliver’s eyes were so content...

She arched a brow. “Done?”

He shook his head. “We’re just getting started.”

...

Here’s to the rebirth of Olicity (and the horrid 4 week count down)