#someone's got to tell the tale. whether or not it turns out well

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

[akicklineisinevitable]

something about Hatchetfield is so Hadestown coded. something about how it's a sad tale, but we sing it anyway. as if it will turn out this time. (i'll find you in the next timeline). something about how not everyone can make it out, and those that do don't make it out unchanged. something about love that was doomed from the start (wait for me? i will) (when you shipped out, i thought i'd wait for you). something about how the scenery changes, but the stories are the same. something about it was a world of gods and men (there are monsters and there are men).

[fact-dogsarehappiness]

Me, watching Merlin for the millionth time: I sure do wish nothing bad happens this time around

[notnormalatal]

One of the reasons i think people still rewatch or reread or reconsume tragedies in any type of shape and form is because we all have a little bit of hope that it will turn out different this time. 

We still have hope that Anakin Skywalker won’t turn to the dark side; we still have hope that Patroclus won’t take Achilles armour and run out in battle; we still have hope that Orpheus won’t turn around to see if Eurydice still follows him; we still have hope that Romeo and Juliet will finally be able to escape together without any of them dying. 

Even if we’ve seen or heard or read these and so many other stories and tales (from all over the world!!!) a thousand times before in different versions and retellings, there will always be that little bit of hope that the ending will change. And that THIS time, this time they will have their happy ending.  

[raisincelery]

Something something, Hermes hadestown

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: ITADORI

A/N: Quarterback Itadori with #20 on his jersey realizes he has a little (big) problem with a certain cheerleader turned Chem tutor (who also happens to be just a little bit older 🤭). Anon this one is for you! I hope you enjoy 💋

S/N: I’ve never giggled so much writing a piece. This one was so funny to me.

C/W: Aged up characters (19+), college AU, Mature, 18+

“ITADORI!”

Oh for fucks sake.

Yuji can’t drag away from the pyramid of cheerleaders right of center field.

“Coach?”

“IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A SKIRT AND BACKFLIP FOR THE BOYS THEN JUST SAY THAT?!”

His teammates erupt in a chorus of laughter. Coach Yaga is an ass.

Fact.

But he is also living, breathing, comedic relief.

“I would coach, but they aren’t my type!”

Yuji yells back, eyes still lasered to your back. He knows it’ll sear Yaga’s skin right off the bone.

Whatever.

What’s a few more seconds, right?

You are just so…hot.

In a mind-bending kinda way. An optical illusion. Or desert mirage.

A fresh water oasis in a destitute wasteland. Always just a few more steps away. No matter how long he’s been crawling on his knees.

His knees.

He’d kill to be on his knees for you. Diving head first into—

“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET BACK ON THE FIELD. PINK TOP IDIOT!!”

“Yes sir!” Times up.

“Dude, she’s a smoke show.”

The team’s starting running back (#14) rests his arm on Yuji’s shoulder. Just as four bodies fling you so far against gravity it is questionable whether you’ll come down.

“She’s perfect.”

“And a junior.” #14 reminds him, tugging his helmet back over his head.

“So?”

“Okay, freshmeat. Someone’s got mommy issues.”

Yuji bursts into full belly laughter. Stealing one last glance at you before pulling his helmet on.

His teammates never fail to remind him that he’s the only freshman in Tokyo University history to make starting lineup.

Not to mention quarterback.

“#14, #20 IF YOU DONT STOP RUBBING DICKS ILL WEAR BOTH OF YOUR ASSES TO THE BONE THIS AFTERNOON.”

Yuji promptly takes position at center field. He knows better than to push his luck. Two-a-days are already brutal enough, he has no intention of making his life harder than it is.

But you do.

You are setting flames to the hoops Yuji has to jump through to get through study hall and afternoon practice.

Why else would you wear those yoga pants?

They’re a second skin, for Christ’s sake.

Might as well be body paint. Outlining every tantalizing, serpentine curve. Pretty, full hips. Plump, tight ass. The mouthwatering, puffy rose between your legs just begging to be watered. By his tongue.

Yuji’s palm digs into his crotch. Trying to force his pulsating length from tenting up into the table. Cursing himself for changing out of his compression shorts.

“Hello? Yuji?”

Your dulcet voice echoes between his ears and curls around his dick. Jerking him back down to earth.

“Y-yeah? Hi.”

Yuji forces an acknowledgement through the sharp edges of his voice box. Sitting fully erect in his seat. Scrambling to find the pencil that was supposed to be mirroring your work on the whiteboard.

Because not only are you a perfect 10 on and off the field; you are a prodigy when it comes to chemistry.

And currently in the middle of trying to diffuse some of your excess knowledge into his very deficient head.

You toss your head back. Your laughter is definitely why tales of fishermen being lost at sea exists.

Light.

Breathy.

Soprano crescendo that’s rutting against the few folds in his brain.

“Why are you so distracted today, Yu?”

“Distracted?” His voice cracks.

“Ha—no, I’m not distracted. Sorry, walk me through it again.”

But before Yuji can retreat back into his daydream, you catch him in the Venus fly trap of your gaze. Tilting your head slightly.

Yuji swallows thickly. Frozen in place. Hand pushing down on his cock with all his might. As if you could see through the table.

Did you know he was staring at your ass? Can you tell how hard he is? Is there drool on his face? Shit, there must—

“Woah, the way the sun is catching your eyes right now, Yu.”

You take a half step to the side, allowing the full beam of light to caress Yuji’s already hot face.

A shaky hand swipes along the back of his neck.

“H-huh?”

“Your eyes are so pretty. Warm. Like hot chocolate with cinnamon.”

Your full lips curl into a soft smile. And Yuji bites down a pitiful whine.

“I—thanks.” You don’t hear him. Because he whispers through a wired shut jaw.

Yuji lets his erection tent up, grazing the table. He fists his base through his athletic pants. Ears fiery hot with embarrassment. His hand glides up and down his clothed cock without his permission.

Did you know?

That you snapped his self-control in half?

And shoved him into the darkest recesses of his mind?

Where his most depraved thoughts (and the King of Curses) lives?

Because all Yuji can see is the way your ass ripples and bounces while you scribble hieroglyphics on the whiteboard.

His mind’s eye is currently picturing him fucking you dumber than he is.

Fist full of hair in one hand. Both of your wrists behind your back in another. Mesmerized by the way your plump, fleshy mounds slam against his hips.

Maybe he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror?

So he can make you repeat how pretty you think his eyes are while he brands the shape of his cock into you.

Then he’ll tell you how pretty you are. Creaming all around his length. Drool raining down from your lips in sync with his thrusts.

Maybe he’ll stick a dildo on the mirror so he can watch your mouth get stuffed while he violates your insides?

You’ll look so pretty. When he fills you up with something warm. A little thicker than ‘hot chocolate with cinnamon.’

“Yu? Are you okay?” Genuine concern knocks his lust-drunk thoughts loose.

Yuji blinks himself back to this dimension. Chest heaving. Cramps blooming from his fingertips to his biceps from grasping his sex so hard. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained blood red. From chin to hairline.

“I-uh. Sick. I’m—I feel sick. Be right back.” He takes off to the male locker room at inhuman speed.

Yuji nearly doubles over the porcelain sink, glaring at his blown out pupils. Olive skin flushed like he just finished a marathon.

He can’t believe he was just groping himself like that in public. In plain sight.

All because you complimented his eyes?!

Who the hell is he?

“Sukuna, give it a rest.”

Yuji hisses poison at his curse. Because he surely wasnt responsible for those lewd actions.

“Oh, I’ll rest you PERMANENTLY you asinine little b—“

“I’m serious. Quit it.”

Yuji darts around the empty locker room. Accidentally raising his voice.

“Quit what, brat?”

“Quit…making me think..things like that.”

Sukuna’s bellowing laughter sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Deafening between Yuji’s ears.

“That’s all you kid. I’m only 10 fingers in. Don’t have that power…yet.”

Sukuna retreats to Yuji’s subconscious. Leaving him stunned. Disbelief crashing into him like tornado winds.

Yuji has never been a pervert.

Sure, he’s had crushes. But he knows how to control his impulses.

He might be dumb like one, but he’s not an actual dog…right?

Wrong.

Yuji dives into an empty stall while his teammates file in. Study hall is complete and afternoon warm-ups are starting soon.

And his neglected, weeping sex is clamoring for attention.

Missing it’s muse — your soft, curvy frame and the ways he wants to fill you.

One hand clamps over his mouth. While the other one tugs his pants down. Thick, heavy length springing free. Sticky and slick with his precum.

His head meets the cool wall. Hips thrusting against his fist. Broken whimpers pushing through the web spaces of his fingers that are digging into his cheek. Choking himself quiet so no one hears his pathetic hormone driven state.

“Mnnhgh f—fuck.” Muffled curses slip past his hand.

His cock is red and engorged. Angry from his abuse. But his hips can’t stop rutting into his hand. Picturing abusing your pretty, swollen cunt.

A hot tear rolls along his cheek, between his fingers. Salty on his tongue.

Curtains start to shade his vision and Yuji’s hands move to cup his bulbous tip. His muscular core tenses and strings of warm, thick seed fills his hands.

The world slowly starts to piece together. His heart rattling in its cage comes to a normal pace. Choppy, incomplete breaths gradually replaced with deep, relaxed ones.

Shit.

He’s in trouble.

Because he needs to pass chemistry to play football. And he needs you to pass.

But he can’t ever look you in the eye again after this display.

After one measly compliment.

How will he act if you bend over in front of him?

Or lean over a little too far?

God forbid you touch his arms or brush against him.?

Then a lightbulb goes off.

Yuji has the perfect solution.

He scrambles to clean up. Putting on his street clothes. Ignoring the quizzical looks from his teammates. He’s going to fix his little problem.

“Coach Yaga?” Yuji is met with an open office door and his coach’s nostrils flaring. Vein along his temple pulsing.

He draws in a steadying breath.

“I can’t play football anymore coach. I quit.”

“….YOU WHAT?!?!”

[randomnessoffiction]

♫See, someone's got to tell the tale Whether or not it turns out well Maybe it will turn out this time On the road to Hell On the railroad line!♫

[i-lavabean]

See someone's got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well

Maybe it will turn out this time

[aqwnstars]

Give me siren scara or bratty mermaid scara hc pls. I'm begging you. I'm on the floor. I'm bashing my head on the wall.

HEY POOKIE<33 TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!

- A.N- I haven't been writing lately because my schools getting harder and I recently got an F in an exam so i have to study so the alpha scara isn't coming out soon so sorry my lovelies :(( I try to do my requests first, and then any other fanfic i started doing, but since fanfics take me a week or so to write, this one.... will be written in a headcanon format.. I'm not that experienced with writing a hc format so any criticism is appreciated, in a later time i might make a whole fanfic<33 (FUUCKKCKKKS I FORGOT TO WRITE HIM AS A BRAT ONEOMFMKOAKXKSK)

uhhmmmm i keep noticing i always write scara pining over reader which im not sure if its TOTTALLLYY in character, but writing him pinininy is cute so stfu🙏🙏🙏

Siren Scaramouche x partially deaf gn reader

Word count: 686 (short one..)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!!

Pronouns: You/Yours, reader can be any gender (meant to be gender neutral!!)

Loving waves

Siren! Scaramouche who was known in the underwater world as the most majestic siren out of all.

His voice was such a lulling song so much so that anyone who gave him their listening ear couldn't help but be entranced.

And how shocked he was when he met a person he couldn't lure in.

He began to only think about them, at first planning on how to kill them because he wouldn't let someone he choose to lure in and kill survive, due to his ego, but that began to turn into a genuine interest a few weeks later.

Without thinking about it, Scaramouche had spent hours just staring at you, he wouldn't say it's admiring of course.

It has become a routine at this point, you'd go work outside, maybe take a walk and he'd just stare at you, gazing longingly at your features from afar.

The way you two met would be as if it was straight out of a fairy tale, he'd get caught up in a fishing web, and you'd be his knight in shining armor!!

Him, being a siren, is seen as a terrifying being, a coldblooded murderer, but to you he was such a majestic being, if you were more naive you'd think he was a God (in which case, he wouldn't complain!!)

Everyday since you had saved him, you started to visit him. You brought little trinkets from your home, and he brought you a few shells. (sometimes that is, if you're lucky!!) Might I add, the shells he gifted you were like no other. They range in colors and shapes, not even the most avid collecters saw the shells he had given you.

He enjoyed spending time with you, more than he thought he would. He has gotten used to being alone, so a daily presence in his life was something unusual.

He'd let you touch his tail, his face turning pink as you compliment him. Your fingers on his tail, lightly caressing his scales. He couldn't help but look away as you admired him. If anyone else had requested to touch his tail, he'd plan a new song just for them, ...let's ignore the fact he offered to let you touch his tail, that's an unimportant detail.

One of the things he loved, ahem... liked most about you is the gentleness your eyes hold. He has gotten so used to the trashing waves of hatred in the mankinds eyes, but to see one's with calming flowing water? He could and would get lost in that body of water, no hesitation, of course he wouldn't tell you that though!

He wanted to listeh to you all day, anyone who said his voice was enchanting has never heard yours. Although you sometimes slur your words, stutter and at times get too loud, he loves that about you.

At times he wished you were a siren too, how beautiful would you look under the waters light he wonders. How would your tail sway in the oceans, rivers and seas?

One time, you asked him whether or not he can sing without indangering someone, he had never thought about that. Well of course he's not gonna risk losing his only love to find out, but that's a story for another day.

A few things I can definitely see him doing is;

Giving you his scales! He could tell how you always admired his tail, your eyes glowing at how his tail would practically shine under the Suns light. One night, he'd pluck a scale out, later in the say give it to you, saying: "It had accidentally fallen out, here. Don't think for a second I pulled it out for you." All while looking away, trying to look as non-chalant as possible while.. panicking inside over your reaction.

This might seem cruel, but he'd sing to insects, without the intention of killing them, to see if he can sing to you without putting you in danger.

He'd look around the seas floor for hours to find a shell that you'd like!! (.. you like everything he gives you so that's... pointless..)

AND THAT'S ALL I HAVE ON SIREN SCARA!!! :DD I HOPE I SATISFIED YOUR REQUEST POOKIE!!! (hope i did the hc format right..............

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Never Beating the Big Brother Allegations

Vil + Epel + Leona, it's a little shippy between Leona and Vil, Leona does call Vil, Princess and is just generally Flirty but it's up to you whether you want to take it as him being a little facetious or if it's Real. Also tw for blood/injury Epel has a bloody nose and is a little banged up (not angsty dw) Also I know Lions don't purr, Leona does, deal with it.

--------------------------------------------

"Hey, take it easy Crash, sit down." Leona couldn't help but smirk a bit at the look Epel gave him.

Epel was sitting on one of the infirmary beds, the rest empty save for him, holding a cloth with ice under his nose as he leaned forward a bit, the blood from his nose staining it a dark red. His brow was cocked, challenging Leona for a moment. Despite how ridiculous he knew he sounded when he spoke, he decided to anyways.

"It ain't that bad, this weren't the first time I done somethin' like this. I'm fine, I hit ma head 'nough times when I was younger t'know this ain't nothin' t'worry 'bout! We didn' have t'lug ourselves all the way t'the goddamned infirmary for a nosebleed and a couple bruises....and my name ain't Crash."

Leona snorted a bit and poked Epel's head, causing the younger one to recoil a bit and make a disgruntled noise in response. "It is until further notice. I've never seen anyone bail as hard as you did, or come out of it with something as minor as a nosebleed. Even with the cleaning spell Ruggie casted, you look like you rolled around in a pig sty..." He paused and sniffed the air a bit, nose scrunching a bit. "...and smell like it too."

Epel shot him a dirty look, about to speak again when the tell tale clicks of heels on tile became apparent to both of them, Leona's ear flicking at the same time Epel groaned.

"You told Vil??"

"What am I, your babysitter? Obligated to tell your mom what happened?? No I didn't tell Vil, Rook was probably being a creep again and reported back to your housewarden."

"VIL AIN'T MY MOM."

"And you're not my child, but for Seven's sake Epel, did you really think that news of you being sent to the infirmary wouldn't reach me eventually?" Vil stood in the doorway of the infirmary, hands on his hips, and brows knitted. "What have I told you about the way you fly? You're far too reckless, this was bound to happen eventually." He tsked softly, walking briskly over to the bed and grabbing Epel's face gently. He looked over him for a moment, then at the rest of his body and sighed.

"Rook told me you took the disc to the face and ended up spiraling out of the air. I was worried it was worse. You're very fortunate to have come out of your crash as well as you have." He sighed softly, and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Leona.

"You-"

"Not taking your shit. This kinda stuff happens sometimes when people decide to do more than pretend they're someone else as a hobby." Leona gave Vil a shit-eating grin, teasing him a bit.

Vil shook his head. "That's not what you're in trouble for! You weren't going to tell me that my underclassman ended up in the infirmary!"

Despite Vil getting into his personal space a bit, Leona stayed where he was and just smiled more genuinely, though still arrogant. "Who said that? Pretty sure I just said I didn't tell you, not that I wasn't going to. Besides, Crash was sayin' it's no big deal, and anyone who can take the kinda hit he did and walk away's got some pull on their say. I believe him."

"My name is NOT Crash!!" Epel stood up from the bed, swaying a tiny bit, which did not go unnoticed by either of his upperclassmen, both of them reaching out...well, Leona, pushing him gently back onto the bed, and Vil, ready to offer a helping hand, the blonde shooting the other a bit of a dirty look. Epel groaned a bit and moved the towel away from his nose. "See, it's mostly stopped bleeding now anyways, it wasn't a big deal, it isn't a big deal and BOTH A YA'S HAVE GOTTA STOP ACTIN' LIKE AHM SOME BIG BABY!"

Leona acted faster than either of the Pomefiore residents had time to react, slipping his arm around Vil's shoulders and turning him away from Epel, (who was about ready to swallow his hands as a means of shutting himself up), and utilized his secret weapon. A deep, rumbly purr caught Vil off guard as Leona very lightly bumped his face against Vil's hair.

For the second time in less than a minute, Vil was surprised by the actions of his fellow schoolmates. Such a ...tender sound coming from Leona was baffling enough he allowed himself to be walked out of the room.

Once out of the room, Leona let go of Vil, giving him another, signature cocky smile, though softened by a bit of embarrassment he tried so hard to conceal.

"Alright Princess, I know all that must have been stressful for you, why don't you go and find something that'll help you forget about today."

The corner of Vil's lips kicked up in amusement.

"Acting would be a good skill to have right about now for you, wouldn't it."

Leona's ears flattened, he touched the back of his neck awkwardly and looked to the side, his tail flicking slightly, though between his legs. "Shut up."

"Is that how you speak to princesses?" Vil smirked, his hands on his hips as he looked up at Leona, teasing him.

Leona huffed a bit, amused. "Nah, none of them are worth talking to." He waited a beat, his sliding sideways to meet Vil's once more. "But I guess that's on me for calling you one, when everyone already knows you're a queen."

He chuffed softly, placing one hand on his hip as Vil crossed his arms in a lightheartedly 'angry' way, though he was smiling at the beastman.

"I'll make sure Epel gets back before curfew, don't worry. The kid's got spunk. He'll be right as rain in the next hour or so. Now I was serious, go do something else, anywhere else." He huffed a bit, matching Vil's playful energy as his tail flicked.

"Augh, fine, if you insist. If he's late, it's you who's going to be in trouble."

Leona waved Vil off somewhat dismissively, but they both knew it was light hearted. He immediately dropped the whole facade as he walked back into the infirmary, expression difficult to read as Epel looked at him a little warily.

"What did you-"

"You owe me."

Epel groaned, moving the towel away from his nose. "What do you want? Or is it Vil askin' by proxy?"

Leona moved to the side, preparing another cloth, wetting it with clean water and holding it out to Epel as he took the sullied one away.

"Whatever you've got on your plate for lunch, if it looks appealing, I'm taking some. Just for the week."

Epel took a moment to register what the new cloth was for, before gently wiping at some of the blood that was still left on his face and eyeing Leona warily. He sighed, when his upperclassmen seemed serious about the matter.

"Alright. I guess that's doable." He sighed, finally relenting to Leona's care as they tried to confirm his nose wasn't broken.

------------------------------------------------------

"Your lunch sucks ass Crash." Leona's voice made Epel startle slightly in the cafeteria, the freshmen whipping around in his seat to look up at Savannaclaw's housewarden.

"I wha? Huh??" He looked back down at his food for a moment, his brows furrowed. "What's wrong with my food?"

Leona snickered a bit and lightly flicked Epel's head. "You responded to Crash as your name. Enjoy your food I guess."

Ruggie was quick behind Leona, nabbing one of Epel's bread rolls and taking a bite, snickering as well. "Damn, guess you really are Crash now."

Epel's cheeks flushed a bit at being called Crash in front of his first year friends, but realized his fate was already sealed as he saw Ace's expression out of the corner of his eye...and that he would more than likely be left alone lunch wise for the rest of the week, getting off easy on his punishment.

-----------------------------------------------------

As always, it's not beta read lmao

lmk if you wanna hop on the tag list:

@galaxies-and-gore @fluffle-writes

[verkomy]

okay so I’m rereading the hobbit and I want to make a list of my favorite quotes and parts so here we go:

“bilbo (…) got something a bit queer in his make-up from the took side” I chuckled

“mr. baggins was very fond of flowers” of course he was he’s a blorbo

“it was a beautiful golden harp, and when thorin struck it the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that bilbo forgot everything else” bombastic side eye

“as he lay in bed he could hear thorin still humming to himself in the best bedroom next to him. bilbo went to sleep with that in his ears, and it gave him very uncomfortable dreams” criminal offensive side eye

“the explanation did not seem to explain” my brain 24/7 (but also when someone’s trying to explain the rules of any board game to me)

“bilbo was wearing a dark-green hood and a dark-green cloak borrowed from dwalin. they were too large for him, and he looked rather comic” bilbo in dwarven clothes, just throwing it out there

“bilbo baggins, a bur — a hobbit,” said poor bilbo, shaking all over, and wondering how to make owl-noises before their throttled him” this one made me laugh

“trolls simply detest the very sight of dwarves (uncooked)” this one too

“his house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all” I want to go to there

“dori, who was at the back next to bilbo, and a decent fellow. he made the hobbit scramble on his shoulders as best as he could with his tied hands, and then off they all went at a run. (…) that sent them on faster than ever, and as poor bilbo could not possibly go half as fast, they took it in turn to carry him on their backs” WE WERE ROBBED

“why, o why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole!” said poor mr. baggins bumping up and down on bombur’s back “why, o why did I ever bring a wretched little hobbit on a treasure hunt!” said poor bombur” comedic duo

gandalf answered angrily “I brought him, and I don’t bring things that are of no use” we love a supportive friend

“(gandalf) gave bilbo a queer look from under his bushy eyebrows” live gandalf reaction

“you ought not to be rude to an eagle, when you are only the size of a hobbit” good life advice

“here they sat on wooden benches while gandalf began his tale, and bilbo swung his dangling legs and looked at the flowers in the garden” a short king <3

“that only makes eleven and not fourteen, unless wizards count differently to other people” I LOVE BOOK BEORN SO MUCH and this whole chapter is probably my favorite by far

“the hobbit felt quite crushed, and as there seemed nothing else to do he did go to bed” what a mood

“long noses are sometimes useful you see” do with that information what you want

“they knew only too well that they would soon all have been dead, if it had not been for the hobbit; and they thanked him many times” AS THEY SHOULD, too bad thorin didn’t see any of what happened

“he did not like being dependent on by everyone, and he wished he had the wizard at hand” honestly, same

“never laugh at live dragon, bilbo you fool” another hopeful advice

“you are more worthy to wear the armour of elf-princes than many that have looked more comely in it. but wonder if thorin oakenshield will see it too” ouch

“then bilbo turned away, and he went by himself, and sat alone wrapped in a blanket, and, whether you believe it or not, he wept until his eyes were red and his voice was hoarse” this one hurts

“he was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be queer” of course he was :D

[agirlandherquill]

oc interview tag

thanks @willtheweaver for the tag!

this one looks like fun!

i'll be using Edeva from Ruin's Reprisal for this one,

Were you named after anyone? - "Well, my middle name comes from a distant relative - Maenaire, I think there was a legend written about her once, I never had the chance to find out her story but my mother clearly saw some similarities between us."

When was the last time you cried? - "Ah, that. Do tears of anger count? I cried enough while I was screaming at Fenley for being a mangisen - that's a pig, in my native language. I think he got the message, tears or not."

Do you have any kids? - "No. I never considered children, and I don't think motherhood is a suitable role for an Exilza. I would never subject a child to this life, but if that ever changes... I don't know, maybe I would, if I found someone - someone that was right."

Do you use sarcasm a lot? - "More often with Fenley than not, I don't know why he just- Brings something out in me."

What is the first thing you notice about people? - "...In the old days, I would have said their faces. Faces can change, they can hide things, but I always looked at the eyes - These days, I notice whether someone is armed. I know more dangerous people than not at present and... It can never hurt to be safe."

What is your eye colour? - "Blue. Though Fenley would have many other things to say - He pays far more attention than I."

Scary movies or happy endings? - "I need no tales to know fear, and though I have yet to know one, I'd prefer a happy ending."

Any special talents? - "I can silence the most fearsome man the country has ever known with a single word, does that count? Oh, and please don't tell Fenley."

Where were you born? - "Vitaire Manor, right here in Aliria."

Do you have any pets? - "I was too preoccupied with the goings on of Court to take responsibility for anything other than myself, sadly. And in the wilderness now, I would wish that upon no animal."

What sort of sports do you play? - "Something of a verbal sparring match with Fenley, though sometimes, rare times - things almost turn violent. He never lets me harm him or myself in the process, which is nice. And despite what he says - I do win our arguments."

How tall are you? - "As much as I would love to call myself average, Fenley's laughter can be heard from here - I know, I know, I'm not as tall as I think I am."

What was your favourite subject in school? - "I seldom had proper lessons, aside from personal tutors but... I learned to dance, with Arden. That was one of the lessons I enjoyed the most."

What is your dream job? - "I've never had a job. I've always had an expectation - my engagement to Arden decided most of my life, until our wedding day - Well, I won't say being engaged to a Prince is simple, but it was certainly easier than being an Exilza."

now for the tags! i just updated my tag list so here goes! no pressure of course, looking forward to getting to know some other people's characters! - also open tag!

~ ~ ~ tags ~ ~ ~

@the-ellia-west @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @365runesofthesystem @coffin-hopping

@godsmostfuckedupgoblin @a-mimsy-borogove @frostedlemonwriter @i-do-anything-but-write @r-u-living

@thatuselesshuman @lead-to-code @sunflowerrosy @theaistired @phoenixradiant

@autism-purgatory @corinneglass @tiredpapergirl @patheticexcuseforawriter @missmisanthrope

@your-writing-motivation @littlestchildofthemoon @morganxduinn @thebrownleathernotebook @rmhashauthor

@lamuradex @fantasy-things-and-such @glasshouses-and-stones @hattonthehatman @humbly-a-doppelganger

@hopecreatesstuff @ramwritblr @s-pendragon7 @thelastneuron @heartreactor

@ihauntmyhouse @shiningstars-world @scaewolf @mehxis @just-emis-blog

@joeys-piano @ramitola @thestoryteller8 @yrndrgn @riveriafalll

@lawrencespen1777 @theverumproject @zackprincebooks @ansanity2 @justjariel

@orion-lacroix @jupiter---daydreams @vinniehorrible @stars-forever @thewritingautisticat

@whatwewrotepodcast @anaisbebe @appleandsnow @urnumber1star @chaotictravelerrants

@andagii-projects @dragmewithyoutonirvana @a-bi-cat-with-books @fearofahumanplanet @just-a-domesticated-cryptid

[straw-hat-nakama-22]

Lines From Hadestown

Luffy: Come home with me! (He literally says this to every member of his crew)

Zoro: All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.

Nami: Euridice was a hungry young girl. A runaway from everywhere she’d ever been. She was no stranger to the world. She was no stranger to the wind.

Usopp: If it’s true what they say, I’ll be on my way. But who are they to say, what the truth is any way? Cause the ones who tell the lies, are the solemnest to swear, and the ones who load the dice, always say the toss is fair.

Sanji: You would do anything just to fill your belly full of food, find a bed that you could fall into where the weather wouldn't follow you.

Chopper: And this poor boy, he wore his heart out on his sleeve, you might say he was naive.

Robin: See, someone’s got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well.

Franky: He could make you see how the world could be. In spite of the way that it is.

Brook: A song to fix what’s wrong, take what’s broken, make it whole. A song so beautiful it brings the world back into tune, back into time. And all the flowers will bloom.

Garp: Why do we build the wall or Take it from an old man.

Ace: It’s a sad song, it's a tragedy. But we're going to sing it again.

Sabo: They’ll pluck the heart right out yo’ chest. They’ll truss you up in your Sunday best and stuff your mouth with cotton!

Vivi: Wait for me, I’m coming too, wait I’m coming with you.

Koby: Low, oh you gotta keep your head low, if you wanna keep your head, oh you gotta keep your head-

Shanks: And it ain’t because I’m kind, but his Mama was a friend of mine. And I liked to hear him sing, and his way of seeing things, so I took him under my wing. And that is where he stayed until one day…

Buggy: And jealousy fuels him and feeds him and fills him.

[cellarspider]

25/30 Eschatology for Dummies

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Once again, we dive into that font of madness, Prometheus. I lied last time, we’re not talking about language today, I want to bash my head against the problem of “what in blazes is the intent of this movie”.

As the expedition enters the alien structure, suddenly Shaw remembers that germs can float.

“Wait. We still don’t know how Holloway got infected. If it’s in the air–”

This is one of those maddening little moments where the script tells me that no, the earlier removal of helmets was not just the oversight of someone who didn’t know better. The script chose violence.

“Smells fine to me.”

So does VX nerve gas. Truly, this is the mental acumen required to become rich.

The movie attempts to raise tension through a ZOOM AND ENHANCE, and cluing in those in the audience who may have been thinking “Ha! Foolish Engineers! How would they ever destroy life on Earth if they don’t have any spaceships?”

Well, turns out, there are these great big buildings called “hangars”, and you can put spaceships in them, sometimes even under the ground. I almost feel like if they hadn’t buried the ship, Holloway would’ve tried to see if he could do a burnout in it.

David, meanwhile, is having a great time. He’s giving a guided tour of the ship (that he explored more thoroughly than anyone else), pointing out their technology (that he learned how to use), explaining what they were doing (which he figured out before anyone else did), and assuring Weyland that yes, he can talk to the Engineer (which no one else can do), blithely skating by the reasons why he knows Holloway didn’t die from an airborne illness and how the Engineers were going to press the reset buttons on Earth. Simultaneously excelling at what he was supposed to do and also anticipating Weyland’s inevitable doom, possibly even that of humanity as a whole. It feels appropriately childish for a character that’s extremely young, extremely smart, and has had the worst socialization this side of Immortan Joe’s war boys.

Weyland doesn’t care about any of that, because he’s a horrible homunculus of an old Englishman formed out of a forty-five year old Aussie. This continues to vex me, even now. I keep trying to figure out why they did this. Did they originally intend for him to be depicted as young and change their mind? Was the mobility aid exoskeleton thing they put him in heavy and cumbersome? It’s hard to see in these screenshots, but he is wearing one.

Honestly, just have Lance Henriksen play another Weyland again. Lance can definitely play scumbags, and it would honestly be funny to have every single Weyland in every single time period played by him. Have him play Vickers too, for good measure. It would’ve taken me out of the film less than this.

At this point, I personally did not care about any characters besides David and the Engineer. Which is a very strange position to find oneself in, caring most about two characters who seem just fine with humanity going pft! 

And I’d like to examine that. Because fiction can put you in all sorts of strange headspaces that can be thoroughly contradictory to personal morals and self-interest. What was the movie trying to do here, and where has it ended up?

I want to start with some assumptions that mass media tends to make. Fiction, in general culture, is often presented as a moral lesson. Your protagonists are virtuous, and anything that stands in their way is villainous evil. The protagonists are also expected to be likable, and the audience is expected to root for them. A moral tale of who is worthy and who is not.

This is only a small piece of what fiction is. No one of these things is required. Villains are not required, sometimes problems aren’t caused maliciously. Protagonists do not have to be moral. Moral characters don’t have to be likable. You don’t have to root for the protagonists. And none of these divisions are binary.

I am uncertain whether we are supposed to root for the protagonists in this movie. Ridley Scott isn’t a stranger to this idea–look at Blade Runner (1982). Is it good that Deckard hunts down fugitive replicants? No. Absolutely not. Is it a compelling story? Yes! It’s beautifully told and tragic! If you make me watch Roy Batty’s monologue I will cry.

So. It is entirely possible that we are supposed to find the human characters unsympathetic. The Engineers created humanity, and then decided to destroy it. This could have been planned from the start–many religions describe cyclical, world-ending death and rebirth, after all. But this movie is heavily influenced by christianity. Those sects that believe in a destructive apocalypse call it the Last Judgment of humanity, something that occurs when the world has fallen into a state of corruption.

Which then brings us to the question: Does humanity deserve that most fatal judgment?

I mean, in real life, I’d say no, absolutely fucking not. The problem of a suffering world is not sanely responded to with “I’ve got a solution: murder everything”. 

This is fiction, though. We are being presented with a vision of humanity. This has the potential to be a counterpoint to the Engineers’ thinking, or their evidence, or a mix of both.

What is it, then? Most of the cast are morons, selfish, or featureless ciphers. They are a very pessimistic view of humanity. And remember, this is fiction. People don’t need to act like real people. When you think about redeeming qualities in yourself, in your friends, in your favorite so-and-so, this fictional realm does not necessarily contain them. In its barest form, it only contains the characters we see.

We’ve got Janek, who’s been charming and indicated he’s willing to stop the Engineers here, but that’s all we know about him. He’s also behaved in negligent ways that contributed to the deaths of Millburn, Fifield, and the nameless guys mutant Fifield wailed on. Christian morality is big on redemption as a path to unconditional absolution, so is he redeeming himself through a last-minute sobering up? Maybe. I’d note he’s missing the “confession” and “recanting past sins” parts that are usually bundled up with that.

We’ve also got Shaw. Shaw has all the makings of a Final Girl, somebody who is destined to survive the plot. They usually have some redeeming quality that makes you want to root for them. What does Shaw have?

Well, she’s got a never super-defined strain of christian faith. And she’s had a really shit time lately, so it would be cruel to watch her get kicked around more.

So, that’s two. Two could be enough in Abrahamic religions–Lot flees from Sodom to Zoar, and it’s spared from destruction because of his presence. Sure, he does some Weird Shit, but he qualified as righteous by whatever standards were at play there. But Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed for want of ten righteous people. 

And all that gets more complicated in New Testament stuff, after God’s pinky promised not to destroy everyone again, except for the aforementioned Last Judgment thing. Is this movie, as christian allegory, advocating for a god of forgiveness, or depicting a just god who punishes the wicked?

No idea. It doesn’t have to be clear, obviously, fiction doesn’t have to be clear, any more than it has to be moral. I didn’t personally want the Engineer to sail off and destroy Earth, but frankly, I could see it from that perspective, given what this poor bugger’s met with upon waking up.

Next time: our Engineer wakes up from a two thousand year trauma nap to find some little monkeys yelling at them. Surely, this will go well.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Alt-text rambles:

https://extra-images.akamaized.net/image/8a/5by6/2021/04/17/8a6f54c4f0ca4bd397cc22aceb4cb30e_md.jpg 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torc 

[hinatastinygiant]

1 | Fool's Gold

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

"So, what do you think?!" you ask your grandfather, looking over the map that has recently come into your possession. "Is it real?"

Your grandpa, a well-rounded librarian, is always the first one you turn to after discovering something new on one of your expeditions. And this is something you are certain will catch his interest.

"It looks old. Real old. Where'd you find this?" He takes it from you to get a closer look.

"In India, at some museum. I got a tip about a secret passageway hidden inside one of the old temples. Led me right to the thing." You cross your arms, feeling pretty smug about yourself.

"This map of Tsiji," he continues, "is very outdated."

"And what about that red x? Right in the center. It can't be a coincidence. And it's not marked on any other maps."

"Hmmm." Grandpa turns his gaze back to you, and then looks at the map again.

"I don't know, Y/N. I think the only way to find out is by going there."

You take the map back, smiling, "Then, it's settled."

Grandpa places a hand on your shoulder, his expression stern.

"But, Y/N, if you're really set on finding the treasure, I must warn you. This island is swarming with pirates and cutthroats. I would go with you, but you know I can't. I would be a deadweight. You will need someone to watch your back. Someone strong, who can handle the trip."

"Grandpa, I appreciate the sentiment. I really do. But I can do this myself. I promise. Besides, pirates? Come on, when have you ever seen a pirate outside of some kid's Halloween costume?"

He chuckles, "Alright, Y/N. But please, be careful. You'll never know what might happen."

You grin and kiss him on the cheek, "I will, I promise."

The next day, you've packed everything you think you'll need. Grandpa gives you one final hug, wishing you luck on your trip. As you pull up to the harbor, you're shocked to see a large ship already docked, a crew of sailors waiting to help you aboard.

Once aboard, you join the crew in helping the ship depart, setting a course for the island. The trip will take about a week, and in that time, you learn all you can about the island you're sailing to.

A couple of days into your journey, you find yourself getting close to a sailor named Yoichi, the only one on the ship who will tell you anything about the island you're going to.

"There's all kinds of rumors," he explains vaguely as he shuffles a deck of cards in his hands.

"About what?" you hum in delight. For the first time, you're actually getting somewhere.

"All kinds. They say the island is guarded by an old, powerful spirit. And that those who find the treasure will meet a horrible fate.

"You mean, they die?" you ask.

"No, no," he shakes his head. "Worse than death."

"What could be worse than death?" you then continue to question him, but he only shrugs his shoulders. "Do you really believe the treasure is out there?"

"Isn't that what you're here to find out?" he scoffs.

"Have you ever heard of anyone finding the treasure?" you inquire.

"No."

"Do you know anyone who has?"

"No."

"Have you ever even seen this place?"

"No. Look, lady. I was hired to be on this boat and help sail you out here. That's it."

"Well, what do you know about the place we're going to?! I mean, you agreed to take the money for some curiosity, right?" you continue to press, getting equally as frustrated as him.

"Alls I know is the island's dangerous. Pirates have tried and failed. And the few that have returned have told tales of monsters and spirits, and some say the whole island's cursed."

"So then someone did find the treasure!" you exclaim, getting more and more excited by the second.

"Fine," he sighs. "There's a tale of a pirate captain rumored to have found the pirate treasure. But there's no telling whether that's actually true or not."

"If he found the treasure, wouldn't people know about it?" you think aloud.

"Not if he got cursed and lost the treasure," he explains.

"How'd he lose it?" you press.

"You'd have to ask him," he scoffs. "The story goes, he had the treasure, and he was on his way back to his ship when a storm hit. The captain and the crew abandoned the ship, leaving the treasure behind. Some say he got cursed. Others say he went crazy, and now wanders the island, looking for his lost treasure."

You stare out into the ocean, taking in everything the sailor has told you. You're not sure if you believe any of it. But you can't wait to get to the island and find out.

On the last day of the voyage, Yoichi approaches you as you stand by the railing.

"You better be prepared, princess," he says, looking out over the sea.

"Oh, so now you're showing your concern for me," you smile at him.

"I'm just warning you," he says, looking past you toward the water. "This island won't be like anything you've ever experienced. It's not like your normal, everyday beach vacation. You'll need to be careful."

"Good for me I can't remember the last time I went on a beach vacation," you grin wider.

"You'll regret those words soon enough."

You laugh, turning to lean your back against the railing, facing him.

"Look, I'll admit I'm a little nervous," you confess as you clutch the knife attached to your hip. "But I can manage."

"Good," he hums, then walks away.

You're not sure what to make of his warning, but you're determined to find out what's on that island, no matter what.

As the sun sets and the ship sails into a cove, you can finally see the island. Your grandpa's friend, Takehiko, then approaches you. "Sorry, Miss, but this is as far as I'm willin' to go. I've got no idea what's out there, but I wish you good luck. We'll wait for a month, and then we'll go back. If you're not back by then, we'll assume the worst. Be safe."

You shake his hand and nod, understanding. This isn't the first time you've done something like this. As an archaeologist, you've put yourself in more than a fistful of dangerous situations. "I will, Takehiko, thank you. For everything."

"Of course, kid. Take care of yourself."

With that, you pile your backpack onto a small boat and take off towards the island, ready for whatever is awaiting you. But as you near, a fog begins to cover the water. You try to push forward, but your motor won't work. You can't see, but the fog is so thick that it doesn't even feel like the ocean. It feels like you're floating in the sky.

Eventually, you make your way to land, climb out of the boat, and pull it up onto the sand. The fog is thick, and you can barely see the palm trees.

You decide to set up camp right there, so you pull out your tent and a lantern. But no sooner do you set up your tent, than the sky begins to darken. The fog dissipates, and the moon shines through. You sigh as you sit down beside your tent and stare up at the stars above you. What the hell have you gotten yourself into now? You're all alone out in the middle of nowhere and your only possible escape is your boat with no motor.

This is going to be an interesting adventure.

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

[mvndrvke]

someone's got to tell the tale, whether or not it turns out well

ind. sel. multimuse featuring orpheus, inspired by the musical hadestown. based primarily on the nytw production with influences from the broadway production. retold by luna.