#sometimes i still struggle with that last part though it's becoming rarer
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
>send me asks im bored
:
something ive read, and then seen people like txttletale talk about; being a marxist isn't just about rattling off a parroted opinion, but developing a framework utilizing diamat to consistently come to a correct conclusion. identify the primary contradiction, etc.
obviously it is a practiced skill, but how would you say is one of the better ways to practice building that framework?
You are completely right! Marxism is not a dogma, but an philosophical framework for analyzing, criticizing and overcoming wage labor and the system that upholds it. As exposed by Lenin in The Three Sources and Three Component Parts of Marxism (it's a great book and a short read, highly recommend), "Marxism is a continuation of the teachings of the greatest representatives of philosophy, political economy and socialism [...] German philosophy, English political economy and French socialism". What marxism is, is the logical continuation of these three components; from German philosophy grows dialectical materialism (read: Theses On Feuerbach), from English political economy grows the description of how capitalism works (read: Capital), and from French (utopian) socialism grows scientific socialism (read: Socialism: Utopian and Scientific)
Instead of, for example, just memorizing how reformism is bad and revolution is good, you should instead understand how class struggle influences both of these actions, how reformism is used by the capitalist class to misdirect the workers' struggle, and how the way class struggle functions and has always functioned necessitates that the proletariat take its historic role as the overthrowers of capitalism, and beyond this, how this is worked towards. It's also very important to understand how common marxist positions are reached in order to continue analizing new situations, such as the Palestinian struggle.
I will never grow tired of saying this: the only path towards becoming a better communist whilst advancing the class struggle bit by bit is through constant theoretical and practical education, the involvement of yourself in the workers' struggle and the capacity to extract lessons from it via what you learn by reading the works of other communists, who most probably have already dealt with an analogous situation to yours more than 90 years ago, and then to complete the cycle, reapply those lessons to your work as a communist. You can only get so far by only reading or by only doing things (of course everyone's personal situation will influence the ability to do either or both of these, I think it goes without saying). Synthetically: Learn from the past, learn from the present, exercise your own mind, and never grow complacent. In due time (we're talking more than a year at least, probably more), the marxist framework will be as natural to you as the liberal framework is to most people
#ask#anon#seriousposting#sometimes i still struggle with that last part though it's becoming rarer#Everyone has their own timings and rhythms#don't compare your progress to other people's pacing too much#i promise you're doing better than you think <3
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
How I Manage Self-Care Routines While Struggling With Depression:
So I have depression, anxiety, autism, and PTSD. I tend to have depressive episodes that last for a week or two at a time. I also have sort of a background PTSD, where I basically have intrusive thoughts continuously returning to my mind every few minutes. Mainly just mistakes I've made in the past, tokophobia related thoughts, or actual trauma from my past. Though my PTSD does usually stay a subtle background problem that occasionally comes to the front for a few hours every few days, I do have full PTSD episodes that may last anywhere from a couple hours to a day or two. It depends on the severity.
All of this to say that my mind constantly tortures me, and it's led to a lack of self-care habits for me.
So how do I cope with this?
Well, I break down my hygiene routine into three different levels:
Brief Clean
Full Clean
Deep Clean
Brief Clean is where I wash my face, change my clothes, and maybe rearrange my pillows/blankets. I don't take a shower, but I do wash my face. I usually do this for most days. I have unfortunately been going several days without showering, but that's thanks to my busy schedule and my lack of accountability.
Full Clean is where I take a shower, change my clothes, wash my face, and make sure my blankets are mostly clean. I usually do this 2-3 times a week. But I will admit, this unfortunately has become a rarer occasion. I will admit to not showering for 4-6 days at a time.
Deep Clean is where I take a deep shower (includes thoroughly washing my bottom half), do a full skincare routine, change my sheets on my bed, and sometimes I'll clean my room too. I usually prepare for a deep clean almost 3-4 days in advance. I'll decide which day of the weekend I want to use as my deep clean day. I do a deep clean every 2-3 weeks. It's usually in line with when I change my sheets.
How do you manage this?
Well, for one thing, I've realized that showering every single night is not a thing for me. It's not a sustainable routine for me to keep up with. I also have medical shampoo and conditioner, which states not to use every single night as well. The goal was originally to take a shower every other night, but I eventually realized that wasn't going to work either. So now I usually shower on the weekends, and try to shower sometime on Tuesday or Wednesday. I work night shifts on the weekends and Mondays. I know that when I get home from work, I'll be smelly and gross, but still very exhausted. So I try to plan ahead to take a shower. I decide when I'm going to take a shower before my shift, so I'll be mentally ready when I get off work.
Why is it so hard for you to shower regularly?
Autism, depression, and anxiety are the great trio of making basic life skill things difficult. Having autism gives me sensory issues, depression makes my willingness and mental strength to do things weaker, and anxiety leads to various problems. I'm not happy with myself knowing I don't shower consistently. But I know it's just not sustainable or realistic for me to shower every day, so I make do with what I have.
How can I adapt this into my life?
Try looking at what your daily schedule is like. See what you do everyday, look at what times you're not busy, and observe your usual life for a bit. Find what part of hygiene makes you uncomfortable or causes you to avoid it. For me, it was the entire process of taking off my clothes and getting wet that made things harder for me. So I decided not to put myself through that every night, and instead decide a few times a week where I have to do that.
Once you have a good idea of your daily schedule, try to place a specific dedicated half-hour to your hygiene routine. It doesn't have to be every single night. There's no shame in missing a few nights. Just make sure you don't go too long without a shower.
Anyways, that's my ramble about showering. I did a deep clean tonight, so I'm very excited about it.
#tw mental health#mental health#mental heath support#health#healthy habits#hygiene#staying healthy#depression#anxiety#ptsd#autism#actually autistic#actually ptsd
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
in my experience fandom just doesnt like it when queer characters are realistically messy in ways that are 'unsympathetic'. especially if theyre masc queer characters, or queer characters who are teenaged/young adult boys specifically, in this case. ppl dont like queer teenaged/YA girl characters either. oooo boy do a lotta ppl hate it when fictional women do anything. but i mean, points to the neverending stream of mass abuse the creator of boyfriends undergoes.
and all this is crazy to me bc tons of fans can empathise with and understand vriska (maybe a little too much too hard sometimes) but the same ones cant seem to do the same for dirk, which is like. i mean the vriska-dirk parallels are absolutely massive. glaring, even. especially in HSBC right now. cmon man. and poor fuckin jake never being treated right by the audience. not even the ppl who did pesterquest did him right. they especially did wrong by him actually. the whole thing with this character is that no one around him really understands him bc of his own devising and damn it seems he tricked a lotta the fandom too. can we stop pretending this isnt very good and clever character writing. dirkjake and vrisrezi have a suprising amount of thematic and emotional paralelles and they're both canonical queer couples
and i think all this is from like- i mean i get excited about any and all queer or queer coded femme/girl characters bc the ones whos characters are given proper attention are a lil rarer. getting less rare the past decade though thankfully. and (again this isnt a hard/fast rule but) a lot of popular yuri/shoujo-ai/GL is pretty soft, even when theres crazy amounts of drama. we legitimately need more sapphics being 'unsafe' in media. but i think we've got so much variation in on-screen mlm through a combination of 'unsafe' western media (eg hannibal) and east asian media (tons and tons of yaoi/shounen-ai/BL like, loveless for example) and also very fluffy 'safe' media like boyfriends, heartstopper (im so sorry boyfriends for mentioning heartstopper right after you), and countless other manga and manhwa, that we tend to crack down on on-screen gays more often.
we're all so starved for sapphics that seeing them do anything is a joy, but the Good Rep fan police go after achillean stories bc we all still feel like theyre the 'face' of queer media. which is not true
its still a little safer for production teams to inject more subtle sapphic elements into their stories even when said sapphics are front and center (adventure time, steven universe, legend of korra, she-ra). yknow bc of misogyny and historic wlw erasure. but queer masculinity is harder to hide in media bc of, you guessed it, more misogyny and also homophobia. specifically the fear of faggy guys. like very literally the fear of fags and flamboyant mlm. i mean, we're legitimately still trying to shake off the hays code even now. we have mainstream western stuff like heartstopper (urgh) bc gay boy centric media has kinda become its own genre out of necessity just to get these stories off the ground. and we see the need for this in the way that SU was forced to cancel prematurely soon after sapphire and ruby's wedding, and that bubblines and korrasamis and catradoras kisses happened at the very end of the shows planned runtime, sometimes during the last few minutes of the very last episode, even. which is bullshit!!!! we're all still fuckin struggling to be seen on screen. dirkjake is JUST AS MUCH of a triumph for queer media and tbfh modern queer art history as all the other canonical couples in HS!!!! like we all won something guys!!!! HS is part of queer art history and its fuckin beautiful!!!
actually getting kinda really tired of a lotta the larger overall fandom treating dirkjake like a 'b-tier yaoi ship for fujos' when theyre a canonical queer couple in one of the most influential modern webcomics ever. they're just as much of a real tangeble piece of actual queer rep as rosemary and vrisrezi and davekat. like so much of this fandom missed the point of dirk and jake and their sheer blinding want for each other. it smacks of something but i cant quite pin down what
#our t#just really [grits teeth] having a thing abt shipping-culture-ifying canon queer couples#i got the same thing abt ppl doing this to rosemary oooooh boy does that get my fuckin goat#im so glad they got married so ppl cant argue about their 'legitimacy' anymore. fuckin love their failmarriage
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
The god of sleep has no dreams of his own. When Hypnos sleeps, it grants him the opportunity of visiting those of others, drifting along as on a gentle river. It’s comforting. Shards and glimpses of lives that aren’t his own, of people and places that won’t ever mean the same to him, the visions indirectly threaded by his fingers. There are far too many dreams for him to make, which is why most aren’t. He brings them to sleep, and their bodies do most of the work.
Regardless, it is his domain. Every mortal needs to sleep, whether they like it or not, which makes him an inevitable part of their life. A third of every human’s day rests in his hands. As payment, all he wants to do is observe, to be in their company. (Hypnos likes humans. They don’t notice him in sleep, or worship him in their days, but he doesn’t mind. It’s easier to handle being ignored when it’s not their choice, when it’s impossible for them to notice him, rather than his mom’s cold eyes passing through him like he’s a sliver of mist.
At least when he’s among the dreams of the living, he’s less alone. There’s no judgement, but no praise either.) With how many mortals and dreams there are to go around, it’s rare for him to visit more than once. Though it’s much rarer for anyone to take note of him. Most people aren’t aware they’re dreaming while doing so, being swept along by their dreams instead of having control, but you’re not one of those. You’re blessed with lucidity, morphing bits and pieces of the experience as you go. Most importantly...
You see him. You laugh. “Well, I didn’t think I was lonely enough to make up some guy to keep me company… Guess you learn something new every day!”
In one motion, you pinch his chin between your fingers and pull his face towards yours. He lets out a surprised noise, at the fact you can touch him in the first place, and the movement itself. And it’s a high and squeaky sound, one that makes him want to curl up in his blanket and slip from this dream to the next. You make no comment on it, only smiling wider.
“Ooooh, your eyes are golden! So pretty… Glad my subconsciousness has good taste, at least.” You add the last part to yourself, laughing again.
You don’t think he’s real, just some made up character of your dream. It’s no surprise you aren’t aware that you can’t dream about someone you’ve never seen before. For now, he’s glad to have you believe that. It’d be more humiliating if you knew a god was making such a fool out of himself, heat rising to his face. His tongue is limp in his mouth. When was the last time someone called him pretty? Had anyone ever called him that, and touched him so carelessly? You save him from the burden of speaking up first.
“What’s your name? Do you have one?”
He hesitates. If you knew who he was, you wouldn’t treat him the same anymore. “I don’t! But, um-!“
Hypnos knows and accepts what others think of him, knows that he’s no good at his job or much else, but if there’s one thing he would excel in, it would be here. He straightens his back a bit from its usual slouch, the tips of his feet grazing the ground as he floats. “I’m here to make sure you’re going to have a grand old time, you know? I know aaaall about having fun in dreams! Why, you could call me an expert! At your service.”
He does this stupid little bow, and immediately regrets it. You laugh, but not at him, and people don’t usually find him this entertaining, he thinks, and if you keep this up, it will become one of his favourite sounds.
“Alright, mister dream expert,” You say with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”
He helps you float like he does, and assists you at conjuring up whatever idea pops into your brain. Hypnos expected you , but that’s not all you do. You try to ask him questions about himself, even if you supposedly don’t think he’s real, and you actually listen. And when you tell him about yourself in return, he does the same. It’s fun, he’s having a good time, and he’s disappointed when he’s jolted awake because of someone walking too close past him. He’ll have to apologise for suddenly disappearing next time. (Next time? Does he want there to be a next time?)
Hypnos makes a habit out of visiting you. You’re not always aware you’re asleep, sometimes your dreams are the same as any other human’s. He savours those days too, at the insights into your life it offers him. However, it’s most enjoyable when you look at him with bright eyes and talk to him, and laugh at things he says and joke around at this side. There’s a warm tightness in his chest around you, he’s happy, he is, but also impossibly nervous to mess up and have your smile turn into a sneer. It’s surprising you even still want to be around him, if past experience is anything to go by, he isn’t any good at not annoying people. But you’re different. You haven’t insulted him at any point, either! You must really be some blessing.
Hypnos thinks he likes you. A lot. He’s never thought of it before, whether this is allowed or not. Never considered the possibility of forming a close bond through dreams. Hypnos decides that it is, and who would he even ask, isn’t he the deity of sleep? He’ll make his own rules, number one being that it’s totally a-okay to have dream friends! That you visit and think about all the time and spend all your time thinking up new fun ideas for! And sometimes you scratch their name into the margins of your lists while zoning out! He’s getting off track. (And, well, this all seems more like a problem exclusive to him…) What he wants most is to have you down here with him, to touch you and feel something, to have you around while you’re awake and asleep.
But to do that... It would be an offense to all sacred rules to meddle directly with the path the Fates had set out for you. Perhaps they’ll have some mercy on him for being family. Either way, he’s going to falsify your cause of death in the records. He's tired of being a bystander in your life. Hypnos doubts whether you can even remember him when you wake up. He isn’t exhausted in his normal way however, it’s no tugging at his eyelids or yawns hidden behind an open palm. This hurts. It’s an ache, an empty hole beyond his ribs. Your warmth needs to fill it, he’s sure. He wouldn’t be able to stand and watch as your life blossomed, how you would inevitably love someone else, be happy and forget about him all together. (It’s unfair. He's never had anyone that wanted be anything of his. Not a friend, not family, not a lover. And now you’re here, the first to not see him as a disgrace, and now he should let himself be stopped by some old rules?) Because compared to what someone right there with you could give, what did he have to offer? If he believed everyone else, he had nothing of worth to give anyone. All he had was this love, what he thinks is love. But you laugh with him, you seem happy, and what he knows of human life is suffering. So many terrible deaths, so many unresolved emotions, so many wishes that never came to be.
Hypnos could save you from it all. You would never have to worry about anything again. But he knows how much humans fear death: It’s reflected so often in their worst nightmares, after all. The last thing he wants to do is scare you.. How surprised you’ll be at suddenly finding out he’s real, not just a figment of imagination!
He’s giddy. The two of you could have be together forever! (And if you didn’t love him back, why would you smile at him like that? Why did you always say you were happy to see him return? He has neither experience in friendships or relationships, but he shares those sentiments, so you must love him too. Otherwise… He doesn’t want to think about it .)
So he visits you. Hypnos floats above your bed, watching down upon you. He caresses your face as you rest, watching you through lidded eyes. You called him it first, but you’re pretty too. He doesn’t care about your hair being a mess, or the dried drool on your chin, or how you lay in a weird position, legs and blanket all tangled up. Your soft breaths are adorable, and he wants to coo at you, to make your face turn warm instead of his.
The thought of his brother seeing you and taking your soul makes him uncomfortable, he wants this vision of you to be only his.
Your eyes crack open with a little groan and before you have the chance to struggle or cry out, he presses a kiss against your forehead, forcing some of his raw power into your frail, mortal body.
It shouldn’t hurt. He asked. Your form was never meant to take godly powers, it’s too overwhelming, destroying you from within, and you go limp within a second. It’s like you fell asleep. A sleep so deep you will never awaken again. (i know hypnos doesn’t govern dreams his sons do but i had an Idea,, hope u enjoyed!!)
---
(THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE OH MY GOSH!!!!! You're so talented, this is written so beautifully, it's amazing!!!!
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO POST!!! I've had a busy past few days ^^; I also hope it's okay that I had to edit it, or it'd be a big block of text, hehe. Thank you so much again!!!! 💚💚💚)
#yandere hypnos#hypnos x reader#yandere hades game x reader#hades game x reader#hades x reader#yandere hades game#hades game#yandere hades x reader#yandere hypnos x reader#yandere hades#yandere greek gods#yandere#long post#hades#submission
649 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roleplaying Races 11: Suli
(Art by Phoenixlu on DeviantArt)
We’re back with more playable races, and this time we’re looking at what is arguably the last elemental planetouched, and nearly the last planetouched race that we haven’t covered.
The suli-jann, often shortened to suli, are unique among the geniekin in that they are universally always guaranteed to be of genie blood, and are not associated with a single element, but rather, all four.
This is because the suli are the descendants of mortals (often humans) and the janni, those lesser genies that are a mix of all four elements and whom often visit the material plane mingling among the peoples there.
Sadly, if there is folklore inspiration to be found here, I wasn’t able to find it, but the idea of the mythological jinn coming to love and become romantically involved with mortals was not unheard of, so there is precedence there.
For their part, the suli resemble beautiful and healthy examples of their mortal ancestry, inheriting the statuesque perfection of form common to most genies. Most have no idea they are suli at all until the first time they encounter a genie or other powerful source of elemental energy, awakening the power within them (and probably shocking them and onlookers). After that, strong emotion tends to cause their eyes to flash with elemental light from within.
Simultaneously seeking balance and possessing a boastful, proud streak, suli tend to feel emotions very strongly, and have a penchant for showing off, though that could be because they can make their limbs erupt with the power of the elements. Their connection to all four elements also tends to make them think in terms of those elements when it comes to aspects of their own minds, attributing different aspects of their personality to one of the elements within.
While the suli have few societies to speak of, often living among their mortal or janni kin (though the latter is much rarer), they do love society as a whole, and enjoy lives where they can interact with others regularly, if not be the focus of attention. Their passionate natures and love for self-determination means that many dislike slavery, particularly the binding of genies with magic.
Suli tend to be strong and charming, but a bit dim sometimes.
Like other planetouched, they are at least party spiritual in nature, but still of the material plane.
Inheriting some of the merchantile skill of their otherworldly ancestors, suli-jann are skilled at diplomacy and negotiation, as well as reading the intentions of others.
By summoning the elements within them, suli can shroud their limbs and held weapons in the elements, able to use all four to summon either acid, chilling cold, electrical charge, or flame to bolster their weapons and hand to hand strikes.
That connection to all four elements also makes them resistant to all four as well.
Of course, there is still plenty of variety among suli despite their unified origins. For example, some may favor one element over the others, only being resistant to and able to evoke one of them. However, they instead gain additional control over that element, shifting rubble to more easily traverse it, being able to throw balls of flame, creating temporary platforms of ice to walk on water, or charging their bodies with electricity to shock those that touch them. Some focus on developing their mental defenses, making them appealing as mediators and diplomats that cannot be easily subverted with magic. Others still are more mortal-like than their kin.
Naturally, the brash and bold suli make for natural adventurers, many seeking, at least in part, to give weight to their boasts with great deeds, though of course they run the gamut of reasons for adventuring. In any case, their strength and ability to channel the elements into their weapons makes pretty much every martial class a natural pick for them, though there is obviously an argument for sorcerer or other charismatic classes as well. They do tend to struggle a bit with intelligence-based classes like wizards and investigators, but that doesn’t stop them from having their very own racial magus archetype: the elemental knight. In any case, the intelligence drop should not stop you from enjoying any class combination you like with this race.
That about does it for today, but we’ve got a nice selection of races to look at this week!
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Parker: "Teach me to like stuff."
.
Okay, so. I have some thoughts about The French Connection Job's Parker+Eliot subplot. And I think I wanna approach it separately, scene by scene from each of their perspectives, because we have a couple different things going on here. It's still a little more of a Parker meta than an Eliot meta, but I have enough to talk about on both sides, and they're connected enough not to be in separate metas, that I am going to do it this way.
Also going to put this under a cut because it gets long.
Parker
This whole subplot comes on the heels of the last episode, in which there was a lot of banter throughout about Hardison and Parker's dates, and him wanting to branch out into other things than just bungee jumping or whatever. We have seen hints of this throughout S5 so far, even though we're only a few episodes in at this point. They went on a world tour that was pretty much just jumping off of stuff, Hardison said something about them figuring things out. We saw a cute domestic scene of the aftermath of them watching a movie together, except Parker 'fell asleep again' and missed most of it, and Hardison eventually went off to work on his laptop. Parker tried to comfort him last episode about dust mites and ended up freaking him out instead. She talked about how she liked fire and Hardison complained she was missing the point of his offer for a candlelit picnic. They did end on a very romantic note with her still making the effort to make it happen but getting rained out, and him recognizing her effort and listening to him, and projecting the stars around the dark room then having the picnic inside. They are clearly very happy together and both making the effort to meet in the middle, but there are still some disconnects. Which makes sense this early on anyway, but it's not out of place for Parker to start getting worried about her limited interests here given the context of them contrasting Hardison's more widespread interests.
Starting right off the bat - there's a picture limit so I can't show these early moments, but throughout the first part of the episode we see Parker looking visibly upset/pensive. Hardison notices and asks her what's wrong, but is immediately distracted by his package arriving, and then the team gets into the briefing and he doesn't get to talk to her again. (Sidenote that this is pretty OOC for Hardison, and I have to assume he would at the very least come back to her later, but they were clearly trying to get Parker talking with someone else this episode and apparently couldn't come up with a better way to do it. His writing outside of the kitchen stuff was kinda off this whole episode anyway, what with the whole tip thing.) She was about to open up to him, however, which is important. There's also a scene shortly afterwards where she confides in Nate, again after he notices her being upset and asks what's bothering her. She claims everyone but her has 'a thing', and names a few of them. He asks her what she thinks when she sees Michelangelo's David, and when her answer is an immediate assessment of how it's guarded and what she'd have to do to steal it, he kind of hesitates and then goes right back to running the con. He basically gives up on helping her with this once it becomes clear that a quick sentence or two isn't gonna cut it.
So after those brief, unhelpful conversations, that's when she makes a move. She was responding to others before, but this time she comes up to Eliot, clearly nervous. And she asks him to help her feel something.
(I find it very interesting that she doesn't ask Sophie. Sophie is the person who she would usually go to for something like this, after all. But, aside from this being an Eliot-centric episode and just like them sidelining Hardison's possible assistance earlier the writers want Parker to talk with Eliot not Sophie, I think there are maybe a couple reasons why she might go to him here. First, just distance. Eliot is right downstairs, meanwhile at the moment Sophie is however far across town at her theater. Certainly not saying she wouldn't go to Sophie eventually, but maybe that's why not first. Second, she and Eliot have an understanding, one that's been explicitly acknowledged since the start of S4. They are similar in a way entirely unlike the rest of the crew. So while Sophie may understand emotions best, Eliot is the one most likely to know what Parker is talking about when she says she just isn't feeling anything. Which by the way I'm gonna get more into later on. Thirdly they're in love but that's not actually relevant here since all of the team love one another.)
Eliot
On Eliot's side, she approaches him when he's busy in the kitchen. This whole job is stirring up a lot of old feelings in him right from the start. Toby was someone who 'kept him from falling all the way down', and Eliot is deeply concerned for him. At the same time, the way they are running this con is allowing Eliot to take on the role of teacher. Even though his students aren't anything like the eager students Toby has just had taken away from him, Eliot wants so badly to take advantage of this opportunity to teach them - maybe even all the more because they're resistant. He's being given a very rare opportunity to indulge his belief that food is life and to share it on a larger scale. To use the knife to create, not just destroy. Leverage often walks a line between doing both (taking down the bad guys and helping people) but Eliot doesn't often just straight up get to just do the 'creating' part. (I mean, he loves the destruction too, he genuinely loves beating people up and taking down bad guys, but this is a rarer pleasure.) So he's pretty preoccupied with that at first, and initially dismisses Parker just like the other two guys did.
But when she just looks quietly disappointed at his response, he goes still and watches her. We cut away from them here so we don't see his actual response, but it's immediately clear that he's realizing this is actually something deeply important to Parker, and well worth his time.
On to the next part of this scene below.
.
[Eliot sets a dish down in front of Parker]
Parker: "...It's just food."
Eliot: "It's not just food! Alright, some people could look at it and just see food, but not me. I see art. When I'm in the kitchen I'm, I'm creating something outta nothing, you know what I mean? And sometimes I crush it, sometimes it's crap, but either way - it makes me feel something."
Parker: "Feel what?"
Eliot: "Just... feel."
Parker: [murmuring] "Feel... okay." [looks down at the food and hesitates]
Eliot: "You know, I didn't feel anything for a long time. Then Toby taught me how to cook, and after he did, I started to feel stuff again. That's why I share it through my food - this is my art. This is my art, Parker." [Parker nods, looking worried] "It's like lettin' a stranger in your head, just for a second. And you allow them to feel what you're feeling." [pause] "Look again." [he pushes the plate a little closer to her. Parker takes a deep breath and slowly sets her elbows down on the counter as she stares down at the plate. Eliot watches her closely.]
Parker
At this point I want to talk a little about what Parker means when she says "feel something" and talks about "having a thing." Because we've seen her have interests outside of straightforward thievery before. Sure, most of her hobbies revolves around stealing - casing local banks for fun, for example. But she clearly has a deep love for Christmas and for chocolate. So why doesn't she count those kinds of things as 'feeling something'?
I think it comes down to what Eliot's talking about here. It's a sense of art. Not even necessarily making it yourself, although that certainly applies. Parker likes sweet things like chocolate and donuts, but although she really really likes them they don't make her feel any truly deep emotion. It's more tactile than anything else, just a pleasant flavor. Her love of Christmas isn't the same either in her eyes because it's not uniquely hers. It's something she loves to celebrate but she can't do so all year round, and plenty of other people like Christmas too. This one comes a lot closer, because it definitely seems to be tied up more in community and family for her than something like enjoying chocolate and piñatas, but it still doesn't belong to her in the same way that cooking does to Eliot or theater does to Sophie. And while theoretically her love of base jumping and so on could maybe count, it is still so tied up in her thieving that it doesn't feel separate. She's really good at drawing but only thinks of it as a useful skill, not a creative outlet - this is similar to that.
She has been branching out into a lot of new experiences and emotions lately, and while she's struck out deep into uncharted waters with her relationship with Hardison, once there she's only seeing more and more things that she just... doesn't get. She loves spending time with him, and enjoys what they do together, but she doesn't understand all of those things. Not on a deeper level. She wants to feel that sense of connection to something, wants to feel deeply emotionally moved by something.
And honestly? I think she's way up in her head about it. I'm not trying to dismiss her struggle here at all, but I do think she is stressing herself out about having something uniquely her own. About having a huge interest that speaks so strongly to her personally. And those are amazing to have, but it's really not necessary. She doesn't need a strong secondary passion so much as she needs to let go of trying so hard to force herself into something.
And what's happening in this scene in particular is that Parker is trying so so hard to force herself to feel something. It's evident in her face throughout the whole scene, in her body language. And she is so terrified that it's not going to work that honestly, I'm not surprised at all that it doesn't.
Eliot
On Eliot's side of this scene, he feels like he recognizes where Parker is. This entire job has him remembering how it was to feel nothing. Her phrasing got to him deeply. He wants to reach out and teach her to see something more, just like Toby taught him.
He knew a bit about how to cook before Toby. But it was only seeing Toby's passion that struck something in him, that awoke a part of himself he might've never known before. For Eliot specifically, cooking being an art isn't just something he likes. It's something that brings him hope.
Eliot doesn't believe in redemption. But he believes in actions. And what Toby did, by teaching him to cook, was to teach him that his actions can be good. That he can create, not just destroy. That all is not lost - not 'for' him necessarily, so much as 'in' him. There is a deep empty place inside himself that he can enter so so easily. The difficulty is crawling back out again. Cooking was his rope out of there. He still finds it difficult to express his emotions very often, particularly verbally, but when he makes someone a meal he puts a part of himself into it. And yet doing so doesn't take anything from him, it just adds more.
This is all very vague and figurative and may make no sense, but the takeaway I want to have is that Eliot is opening up to Parker on a very deep level here. He feels like he recognizes what she's talking about, and it was a very bad place for him. (Again, I don't think she is quite that badly off at this point in canon, but I digress.) And while making food allows him to feel that he is demonstrating his love for someone, that he is sharing a part of himself with them, he recognizes that she isn't receiving that. What she's getting, is just a plate of food. Tasty food maybe, but nothing more than that. And so Eliot verbalizes everything to her in a way he rarely does.
And then he keeps trying. This scene obviously doesn't end up making her feel something, and we don't get to see the immediate aftermath of that, but we can glean a little about how they feel based on their reactions. And Eliot is deeply determined to help Parker feel something from his food. He insists that she play the food critic; even speaks directly to her and reminds her to consider what they talked about.
.
In the restaurant, we start out with Parker dutifully playing her role but feeling nothing much beyond just the role. Eliot checks in with Parker, she acknowledges that the food is good but doesn't make her feel anything, and he makes improvements based on her feedback. Then something abruptly changes.
Parker: "I can taste garlic, and mushrooms... and something else that makes me feel different."
Hardison: "Wait, was that for me, cause I-I don't get it."
Parker: "No, it's the food. I get it." [smiles] "I feel something."
+
Parker: "Mmm! These black noodles are amazing!
Eliot: "Parker, it's tagliolini nero con gamberi."
Parker: "Mmm." [eats a huge forkful] "Mmm. Mmmm. These are really good."
Parker
What just happened here? Last we saw from Parker, she'd failed to feel something from the meal Eliot made especially for her in the brewpub, and she was clearly disheartened. She felt it as a failure, very much in the sense of a disappointment. She didn't want to try again, didn't think it would work, and tried to protest when Eliot said she would be the food critic. Even once she got to the restaurant, nothing was happening for her.
The difference wasn't in the flavor of the food. The moment Parker started to feel something was right after she said she felt nothing and Eliot, instead of being disappointed or giving up, took it as a challenge. He changed his recipe, he improved it specifically to better reach out to her. He kept trying.
And yeah, maybe the bone broth helped it taste better. But that wasn't the point, not really. The point is that Parker had gotten herself stuck in a hole, trapped herself in this cycle of not understanding how things make you feel and then believing that she just couldn't. She wanted something of her own and she didn't have it and she didn't immediately get anyone else's thing either, and that was it. She just wasn't capable. She was other. This is an old old fear of Parkers, dating back to Archie or even before. Something in her just isn't capable of being like other people. She wasn't worthy of being in Archie's real family, and she's not able to feel passion for anything outside of stealing. (Setting aside the fact that she loves her team, that all she needed was the right family. That you don't have to be a creator to feel passion, and you don't need to be passionate about any particular thing in order to feel deeply and find beauty in the world.) Parker has empathized deeply with people, has felt so intensely before and is constantly trying to learn more and new ways to be. But because she is noticing her teams' passions now, she has this ideal that she wants to reach, and none of that is good enough for her. She doesn't even know exactly what her ideal involves, but she can't get to it.
But when Eliot doesn't give up, that gets to her. If he views his food as sharing himself with others, Parker finally gets what he's been trying to give all along. It's all about him trying again and again, changing his approach to match her better. That's what she feels, that's what she enjoys.
And once she starts, the floodgates open. She loves the black noodles. She is so happy, she is relieved. There was this huge resistance that she couldn't get past before, but Eliot persisting helped her to break past that and now that she is out of her head about it she can enjoy the food in a way she never has before. Because she feels his love for her in it.
Eliot
Eliot is trying so hard to connect to Parker. It's not really different from what I said in the last Eliot section, and basically the same as what I just said in that Parker section, but I want to emphasize a little more just how much this is about love on his end.
Eliot loves Parker. He loves her, and he wants so much to help her. It doesn't honestly matter that he does this with food, except for the fact that food is what matters so deeply to Eliot himself. He can't reach out to her in the same way through any other medium. And we don't get to see his reaction to Parker's moment of realization. But I think it would be such a deep sense of joy. This is as fulfilling for Eliot as it is for Parker. It's exactly what Eliot has been hoping for this whole episode, to teach someone else to see food in the same way he does. It doesn't matter if it only lasts for a moment or a single meal. That's enough. He has been the support Parker needed through this time of self-doubt. And it is all the more meaningful to him because this isn't just a random student, this is Parker.
He told her he loves her through his food, again and again, and she eventually felt it. She understood. That must mean so much to him.
.
I wanna end with one more brief note on Parker. Does she get her own "thing" this episode? No. No she does not, and this scene shows us that. Parker is not suddenly interested in food or cooking. The importance of that meal was purely derived from Eliot on the other end of it, focused on her and trying his best to reach out to her.
And I don't think this is something only Eliot could have done for her either, not really. The difference between him and the others this episode is mostly in persistence. However, it's also about her mentality. Hardison has built/done things for Parker before and she felt them just as deeply - but the context was different. She wasn't looking for a sense of beauty or art in the world at large then, and so even though she felt the love in the gift just as much, it didn't make her feel like she could find that kind of emotion in other things. She just wasn't looking for it. Also, it was made easier for Eliot to reach out because there's that connection Parker has with him, that understanding that they are on the same level somehow. She doesn't feel that with Hardison - and she loves him all the more for him being different from her, but he also I think can intimidate her with how good and open he is, with how much he can feel in so many different directions. It's part of why she got so worried about herself not being able to do so this episode.
Like, the team has scolded Nate for not having a life or interests of his own outside the job not too terribly long ago! And Parker has had her own joys before! But she isn't seeing that this episode, too caught up in this fear about not having her own 'thing', not feeling anything that way. So while anyone could have helped her through this, it was easiest for her to let Eliot do so + for him to understand what she needed from him. (Hardison in particular was rudely robbed the opportunity, but they all love and support her and could have reached her. Not to detract from Eliot doing so, but also I don't wanna sound like no other method of reaching out would've worked.)
But as soon as she feels something once with Eliot's help, that relaxes those fears. And then Parker is free to look in other places. She remembers Nate's comment about art, and maybe even tells him what she plans based on him knowing where she is at the end of the episode. And then she goes to visit this statue. In her own way which means breaking in, but without any goal of taking it. She just goes to look at the art. And she feels something again.
Parker doesn't gain some big passion at the end of this episode. She doesn't need to. She never did. She just learns how to let herself relax from that restrictive frame of mind. To simply be in the moment and enjoy things for the sake of what they are. To feel - not really in any way she was incapable of before, but intentionally now. It's a quiet victory, in the end. It doesn't mean she's going to get a new hobby or change her lifestyle at all really. But she's let go of a fear and is now intentionally seeking out new connections with the world beyond her once-limited parameters.
#leverage#leverage meta#parker#eliot spencer#my meta#ugggggh why did this get so long?! i just wanted to jot down a few thoughts!#hopefully it's coherent#i'm like half-asleep at this point which probably accounts for the length since i ramble on when i'm tired. and also hopefully for anything#that doesn't make sense
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Player of the Week - Gimmesumsuga
; Player: @gimmesumsuga
; Player Profile:
Now, I think you all know that I obviously love Steph’s writing. Besides from being one of my favourite authors, over the last two years she’s also become a very close friend! There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t talk to her and I treasure that so much! You may not understand my mind sometimes Steph, but I think you sometimes remain the calm in the chaos that is Jo and I!
In terms of writing though, I truly adore Steph’s writing so much. I’ve remained a fan since the beginning and I’m still mind boggled as to how long Sweeter Than Sweet is! It’s a testament to your stubborn Taurus personality that you’ve kept going for so long, and you FINALLY FINISHED. I’m so proud of you and getting to work on new things.
I know you worry about your writing but everything you write is so smooth and effortless. The world’s you build are simple but are so much richer because of it. It lets you delve so deeply into the characters until you almost feel like you know them, feel so fond of them and so happy to have read them and been involved in their lives even if only momentarily. I love to read your work and know that you’ve enjoyed writing it, because the dialogue you write is so beautiful and emotive.
Whether it’s writing a one shot, working on a series or on some reactions, every story Steph does feels so unique and yet it has that same gimmesumsuga flare in every one. They’re easy stories to read and even easier to love.
Now that the masterpiece of Sweeter Than Sweet is (nearly) done, I can’t wait to see what’s in store afterwards!
; High Scores:
Sweeter Than Sweet - OT7 x Reader
This remains the OG OT7 story in my opinion. If you want high quality vampire fics, enjoy poly fics or just want to read some good smut then this is definitely the fic for you. It’s incredibly long and so well written, with the character popping to life due to the length. They all get a good amount of screentime as it were and we get to see smut scenes with every one of them.
Steph does an exceptional job at making each smut scene different, not only with the MC’s main lovers but with each member. Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook and nothing like Hoseok. But Jimin and Yoongi remain perfect with her and you can truly feel the love between the three of them. She may sleep with the other guys occasionally, but those are her two men that she loves.
And then you have the menace of Namjoon in the fic (he’s still not okay Steph, soz :P) and the whole underlying story arc with him. So you come for the vampires and the sex but then you end up staying for the storyline and the characters. You really root for the MC in this fic, hoping that she does okay and that she ends up well along with the other members.
See You - Taehyung x Reader
This fic sprung to life after the Wembley BTS concert, which I also went to. It was the first time I met Steph and here’s an amusing story for you all...my mum met Steph first because I’m socially awkward and anxious lol. But this story is such a wonderful look at Taehyung as an idol and what it might be like for him to have a one night stand with a fan. Unrealistic? Obviously, but it’s exceptionally sweet and I really loved it
It’s sweet and Taehyung doesn’t magically speak English, nor does the MC understand perfect Korean. They struggle a little, get interrupted by Jimin but it’s overall just...sweet and delightful. A lovely little two part series!
Beneath The Boughs - Namjoon x Reader
This was part of our Halloween collaboration last year and it’s such a wonderfully sweet and adorable fic. Dryad Namjoon is so...unassuming and gentle, it’s a delight to read him. You really get a sense of the real Namjoon in how gentle and attentive he is, how thoughtful and kind he comes across in real life along with his innocent thirst for knowledge.
His journey to becoming human is so sweet to read, all in the knowledge that he’s fully aware of what’s happening and what he’s doing. Because he loves her, the woman who defended him when she was younger and he was just a tree. I just loved how welcoming and...protective he feels, a true source of stability in troubled times I guess. It was a great addition to the collab and the ideal read for anyone wanting some soft and fluffy Namjoon!
Orectic - Hoseok x Reader
Okay but this fic REMAINS one of my favourites because it’s so rare to see Hoseok in a hybrid fic, but it’s even rarer to find one with a hybrid MC. I love how Hoseok took on the MC in this as a favour to his sister but she was still given plenty of agency. I don’t like hybrid fics that feel too much like ‘ownership’, it makes me feel a little weird. So I enjoyed that I felt like the MC was more his sister’s best friend and Hoseok was just looking after instead of anything weird.
But then you can tell that he evidently has some feelings for her and she obviously has some for him. The little dance they did around each other was cute, but then when she went into heat...hoo boy. I loved that all she wanted was Hoseok, even though he could have found another hybrid for her to have sex with. And that he tried to keep up with her. Obviousyl he’s gonna be pretty sore once it’s all done with given he’s...you know...human, but he’s obviously going to give it the good ol’ college try. And I loved as well that his sister was obviously openly happy that her brother and best friend had found love with each other, even if she was a little bemused at first!
By Its Cover - Jungkook x Reader
Look at that, I’ve done five rec’s and not one had the same main couple ha. I could’ve chosen any of Steph’s Jungkook fics but By Its Cover stands out the most to me. Anyone who knows Steph knows that she adores Jungkook and will fight to the death for him I reckon. And you can feel it in this fic. What’s better than tattooed, biker Jungkook falling for the MC at the place he works?
The misunderstanding between them both obviously works as the primary angst and you can see the MCs annoyance towards him, but the way she softens is so lovely to see. How she realises he’s not what she initially thought and comes round to him slowly, seeing that he’s a good guy. And finding out what he does! The rain is our friend in this story as it leads to that wonderful smut scene where we finally get the joining of the coouple we’ve wanted to see throughout the fic haha!
-
Gimmesumsuga is my Player of the Week!
Make sure to follow her and read her stories! Not only the ones I’ve recommended here but everything else on her masterlist. Please reblog, like and send her comments and feedback if you enjoy her work!
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eyes
Phantom tried not to stare. He really did. He could tell the creature was uncomfortable enough with everyone else’s eyes on it and he didn’t want to make it worse. But just like everyone else he was intrigued by the strange creature.
Since bringing it back with them, everyone at their base had been wanting to look at it. This strange being that came from a flash of light and looked so different to them.
Phantom asked if his team could speak with Pandora about it privately, as they had been the one to find it and they shouldn’t draw too much attention to it until they knew what it was. Though it was really for the creature’s sake.
But some people had already started whispering theories. There was one term in particular that stuck, a word that followed them through the halls.
Human.
No one was really sure about that. Humans hadn’t been seen or heard of in centuries. But some of the older ghosts who remembered that time insisted the creatures were real. Pandora was one of them, so if anyone could tell them what this creature was, it would be her.
But if this creature was a human then it really shouldn’t be here. It’s existence alone would be of great interest to many ghosts and could prove or disprove so much about their own existence.
There were legends that said some ghosts came from humans. That when a ghost formed it came form the remnants of a dead human. And that it was a second chance at existence. There was a lot of speculation about the subject, their only proof being the words of centuries old ghosts and a few random objects that made their way into the Zone somehow, but it was mostly younger ghosts and the ones that were born and grew differently that doubted it.
When a ghost was formed from the light of the Zone, they were fully formed yet held no memories of anything before. It was easy to believe that this was all there was, and they hadn’t had a different life to the one they had now. But the older ghosts said that the only way to regain your human memories, was exposure to the human world. And since no one knew how to get there anymore, most people thought it wasn’t real.
If this creature was a human, then it could change all of that.
Pandora had yet to say a word about the creature, only listening as Phantom explained how they came across it. The flash of light that came out of nowhere and the thick swirling mass that had hovered in its place a few moments longer.
Only when he was done did she look at the being, and only then did Phantom allow his eyes to fall back to it.
It… him? It looked male by ghost standards, but he didn’t know if that were true for this creature. They looked frightened, anyhow. Curling in on themself and glancing around frantically. Phantom took in the alien features and found himself more and more entranced with each one.
The creature didn’t glow like ghosts did, but they still stuck out. They were wearing a strange white and black jumpsuit that covered everything but the face. Their skin was a pale peachy colour that was incredibly rare among ghosts. Phantom himself was one of the few that had it but his was a few shades darker than the creatures. The messy black hair wasn’t too unusual, but the lack of glow gave it a strange appearance. Though it was the eyes that were truly striking.
Bright clear blue stood out against the pale skin and dark hair; unlike anything Phantom had ever seen. Blue was an incredibly rare colour in the Zone, which was part of the reason why it was his favourite, and majority of things with this colour were the random objects that were considered human.
But Phantom had never seen anyone with blue eyes before.
Skin, it could happen, Pandora had blue skin. Hair, it was rarer, but could still happen. Clothes, sometimes it could be formed with ghosts but making it was incredibly difficult due to a lack of things to use for dye.
But never eyes.
It was entirely unheard of, and perhaps the most alien thing about this new creature.
And Phantom was struggling to look away.
“Can you understand us?” Pandora’s sudden question almost made Phantom jump. He was embarrassed for his distraction but thankfully only Ember noticed, giving him a strange look that he avoided.
Instead, he turned to the creature, waiting for an answer.
For a moment, they did nothing, and Phantom thought they couldn’t understand them, but then they nodded at Pandora, slow and unsure.
Pandora smiled softly, trying to calm the being. She still hadn’t said if they were human or not.
“My name is Pandora. Can you tell me yours?”
This time they hesitated longer, but eventually opened their mouth. “Danny Fenton.”
Phantom nearly stepped back at the voice and saw a similar surprise on his teammates’ faces.
When ghosts spoke, there was an echo to it. A sound that reached out and covered you completely, overlapping on itself. Sometimes the echo got stronger if the ghost were emotional about something, and you could hear it with more than your ears.
This being’s voice was nothing like that.
It was a solid sound, clear and jarring in a way. Phantom could only describe it as being focused or centred, like he was all over the place but now he wasn’t. It was deep and pulled him in, the clarity of it almost forcing him to listen.
Phantom looked around and saw a similar alertness on everyone else’s faces, as well as a bit of wariness. Youngblood in particular looked uncomfortable.
Pandora was the only person who didn’t seem affected and the creature, Danny Fenton, didn’t seem to notice the affect his voice had on everyone else. Which could probably mean that this was a human.
“I apologise for frightening you Danny. But no one’s seen a human here in centuries. And your arrival was a bit of a surprise from the sounds of it.”
“You can say that again.” Johnny mumbled.
Danny looked at Pandora curiously. “So… you are ghosts.”
Pandora nodded. “Yes, we are. Though if your world has become anything like ours then I assume there are very few who believe we exist.”
The human gained a sad look and turned his face to the floor. “I thought my parents were crazy.” Before anyone could say anything to the regretful statement, Danny’s eyes shot back up. “Do you know if there’s any way I can go home?”
Pandora frowned, which didn’t bode well. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know how you came here in the first place. All the portals were closed over 300 years ago.”
“My parents built one.” Danny answered. He held onto his arms and didn’t look at anyone. “But they couldn’t get it to work… I was showing it to my friends, and Sam… she dared me to go in. But I tripped on a wire and hit something. It got really bright and the next thing I knew, I woke up here.”
Their leader hummed thoughtfully and turned to Phantom. “You said that the swirling light he came from disappeared?”
Phantom nodded. “It was only there for a few moments. Then it completely vanished.”
She nodded and turned back to the human. “Danny if your parents were able to make a portal then your best chance at getting home is if they open it again.”
Danny, though, seemed afraid that that would be the answer. “But they couldn’t figure it out. I only did it by accident, I don’t even know what I did.”
“I’m sorry Danny, but there’s nothing I can do. As I said, there haven’t been any portals here in over three centuries. I have no idea how your parents managed it, but if you were able to come through then they can open it again.” The last part seemed to calm him a little bit. Pandora ducked down to catch his eyes and continued comfortingly. “I’ll have someone stationed at the area you came through. When it opens again, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here.”
The human said nothing for a moment, still upset but he gave her a small smile, “Thank you.”
Pandora nodded and stood back to her full height. “Phantom.” The ghost snapped to attention, having been distracted by the smile. If his leader noticed, she said nothing. “Can you please escort our guest to a room while I organise a patrol?”
Phantom nodded, “Yes ma’am.”
She turned to Danny one final time. “If you need anything, let Phantom know.” After receiving a nod, she dismissed them both and Phantom guided Danny outside while the others confirmed the location with Pandora.
The walk to the accommodation area was uncomfortably silent. There were a few ghosts who caught sight of them and when Danny started fidgeting under the staring, Phantom led them down some side corridors to escape the more populated areas.
“And here we are.” Phantom said with relief as they finally reached a spare room. They entered and he turned on the light. The room was pretty basic. A cot, wardrobe, table, chair, and a small bathroom.
He watched the human walk inside and look around and focused on the strange jumpsuit he wore. It didn’t look comfortable, so he wondered why the human wore it. “I can bring some of my clothes by later if you like. We look about the same size.” He hated that he sounded so awkward. But he didn’t really know what he was doing.
Danny looked back at him with a small but genuine smile. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Phantom couldn’t find a response as he found himself staring again. The human was much closer to him than he was in Pandora’s office and he could see the strange eyes much more clearly now. Danny’s eyes weren’t just blue, they were different kinds of blue. Rather than the solid colours all ghosts had; Danny’s were a swirling mixture of different shades. They were darker around the edges and had lighter flecks webbing out like waves or lightning. The patterns looked so intricate, and Phantom wanted to get a closer look, to see if he could make out any shapes in them and what they could be. It was only when Danny took a step back that he realised he actually was moving closer.
Snapping out of it, Phantom recognised a look of fearful confusion on the human’s face and realised he was probably frightening him. He swore and stepped back. “Sorry, uh… I’ll go get those clothes.”
He left before Danny could question him and started towards his own room, berating himself all the way for staring and making the human uncomfortable.
But as he started picking through his clothes for something that Danny could wear, he couldn’t help wondering if all humans had such beautiful eyes.
#I'm a bit late#first time doing this#dannymay2020#dannymay day 1#dannymayevent#eyes#Danny Phantom#danny fenton#they're separate people#pitch pearl#ghost zone#trapped in the ghost zone#fanfiction#silverblood5
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why I Think Entrapdak is Pretty Neat
Hello! How’s the family? Cat treating you okay? Isn’t autumn just...like… the best? Anyway, so, my Hordak thing turned out to be kinda popular. I’m flattered, really! If there are people out there willing to reward me writing stuff with positive attention, then I’ll just have to write more stuff. I mentioned back then that I had a similar write-up about Entrapdak, as a ship… and there seemed to be a little bit of interest in hearing my thoughts on the subject. So, here ya go! I’m Lancer, by the by. Not a lot to me. I’m a guy who likes things, and who enjoys articulating why I like things. I don’t really do it for any particular reason. I’m not trying to pwn haters or convert nonbelievers… As you may recall, though you might have missed it (I tend to be very lowkey and subtle about it), I’m not your dad and have no interest in the position… unless it pays. I just feel like the internet doesn’t have enough positivity, and the best way to remedy that is to produce some of my own.
As fate would have it, I like Entrapdak. A lot. I don’t ship often... a relationship has to really sync with me on a profound level to make me invested enough in it to want to write about it, but this one did it. Now, I’m not really promising originality here. As someone who explores the tag frequently, I know that plenty have expressed feelings I’m going to share with you here, many of whom did so better than I ever could, but sometimes you want to share your perspective, even if others whose opinions mirror yours have done so in the past, y’know? It’s a human thing! The relationship is a little… polarizing with people, though, I’ve noticed. A lot of people hate it, and have various reasons for doing so. Again, I ain’t here to convert you if you feel that way, but I did feel like the best way to kick things off would be to look at some of the major reasons other people tend to react to the ship like it were horseradish on a hotdog, and why those reasons don’t really bother me. A part that I, in my infinite wit and adorned in my clever pants, have dubbed:
Part 1: Entrapdak- Why I don’t hate it
***EXAMPLE THE FIRST: “HORDAK, THE AGED”***
By now it’s fairly well known that Entrapta is somewhere in the range of her late 20s to her early 30s. Now a few people refuse to accept this, citing her behavior as childish and accusing the creators of lying. I’m not really going to engage with that perspective. Hordak and Entrapta have appeared together in creator works and concept art dating back to 2017. Their interactions were intended to be a part of the show from the early stages of its creation. If you have so little faith in Noelle that you believe she planned for her story to have a romantic-coded relationship between an adult and a minor… I don’t know what I can even tell you.
Rather, the perspective that interests me comes from people who accept Entrapta being in the stated age range, but who still find themselves repulsed by the relationship on grounds of age. ‘She’s an adult, sure, but how old is Hordak? He could be in his fifties or sixties, or even be hundreds of years old.’ This point of view is at least interesting to think about, so I reckon I can share why this deal-breaker for some doesn’t really bother me.
To begin, assigning human ages, and the stigmas thereof, to an alien bat clone just feels strange to me. The Horde doesn’t seem like the type of place to want to waste resources on alien bat clone daycare... was Hordak born as an infant, or was he artificially developed to his current age? If it’s the later, do we consider him 0 years old at the moment of his birth, or already an adult? We don’t have a timescale provided to accurately determine his age, so investing too heavily in trying to learn it seems somewhat tedious and a lotofwhat pointless.
If we do, though, my next question is: what is the element of an age gap that makes it inappropriate? Now, that’s a personal question, of course. Morality isn’t something that really lends itself to objective declarations, but there are a few answers you can offer. ‘Morality’ isn’t really the operative word here anyway... since it has more to do with taste, though this particular taste does come from what you believe… Y’know, it just occurred to me, but… People who believe that their taste in ships makes them morally superior, and that ships they dislike are supported by moral degenerates, seem like people who just aren’t a lot of fun to be around or think about… but that’s a digression, I’ll refocus my thought-lazer.
For me, with age gaps, it comes down to two things:
1.) Both parties being on the same side of the child/adult divide- I should hope this one sounds reasonable, right? The ships that really powdered sugar my poptart are the ones that feel like equal partnerships, and relationships that try to cross this line tend to not be especially equal.
2.) What stage in their lives they’re at- It’s difficult for even a wizard of self expression like myself to state plainly, so let me give an example: If I saw a 25 year old dating a 50 year old, the 25-year age difference isn’t so much what makes it off-putting, but rather what those 25 years represent in this circumstance. At age 25, people are still struggling to find themselves. They’re adjusting to independence, gaining an identity, maybe finally finding an entryway into a career path that suits them. By 50, a person is already established. They likely have a career, they have a firm grasp on who they are as a person and what they want to be, and they almost certainly have a greater degree of financial stability. Thus, if they enter a relationship, which is supposed to be equal, it doesn’t feel that way. One side has a stronger position than the other, and over time that could become power they use to sway and control the other.
I don’t see Hordak as being in a more advanced stage of his life than Entrapta. They seem to be at about the same place when it comes to self actualization. In fact, Hordak is a bit more arrested in his development than Entrapta is, simply because he’s never really thought to question what would make him happy or why. Hordak rules the Horde, which Entrapta is a part of… which could lead to an imbalance, if Entrapta, like, could be bothered to give even the slightest toss of a salad about status or promotion, but she doesn’t. Neither of them holds higher ground over the other in a way that’s significant to the two of them. In terms of life stage, they’re perfectly equal. The fact that Hordak might be physically older than her by some unspecified amount is, by itself, completely arbitrary and meaningless.
*** EXAMPLE THE SECOND: ‘ENTRAPTA, THE MANIPULATED’***
A second, rarer discussion point for those who are unfond of the ship is that it’s unhealthy, on the grounds that Hordak is manipulating Entrapta. Taking advantage of her naivete to coerce her into aiding the forces of darkness despite not caring for her at all. Now, as I mentioned above, I ain’t writing this to change anyone’s mind. If you’re reading this, and this is a viewpoint you hold as valid, do what makes you happy, homie. That said, the issue I ran into when I tried to think of why this perspective didn’t bother me was a vexing one. See, I like to fancy myself an empathetic dude. I try really hard to consider other people’s perspectives when I have a disagreement, and avoid judging anyone too harshly if I don’t know their full circumstance… but even with all that alleged empathy at my disposal… this hot take about Entrapdak is… kinda completely incomprehensible to me? Like, I have no idea how anyone could have seen the interactions between the two and draw this conclusion?
Part of it has to do with how Entrapta is written. She’s both ADHD-coded and Autistic-coded, and there’s a tendency to perceive the behaviors of both those groups of people as childish. People who see that ‘childishness’ extrapolate it further to a general innocence/stupidity, and assume the character in question lacks the faculties to engage with other people evenly.
Look, I don’t have ADHD, but I am super, duper autistic. Having lived with myself for a lifetime, let me just say, I kind of get why this happens. We get extremely focused on our hobbies, we’re bad at reading social nuance, we have very simplistic body language, we tend to express our emotions in a very blunt and straightforward manner… I get that, for most neurotypical people, the only other group they ever encounter who shares these traits are children, and thus they tend to subconsciously connect the two. I understand why it happens, even if I do find it awkward and condescending.
…but y’all are underestimating Entrapta. She’s not helping the horde because she’s helpless and being manipulated. She’s helping them because she has no moral compass to speak of, and will eagerly assist with any scientific endeavor she finds interesting, without care for its ultimate application. In season 1, she knew well in advance the damage her actions would have on the world, and followed through with them anyway. In season 2, she happily assisted in the creation of a portal, knowing full-well that its opening would invite a colonialist military force into the vicinity of her home, and only withdrew her support for the project… hesitantly… when it became clearly evident that activating it would eradicate all life on the planet. At no point is she ever acting while the applications of her actions are being hidden from her by Hordak. She’s not an innocent child.
The thing is, though, I agree that Entrapta would be incredibly easy to manipulate… if someone knew what buttons to push. She is very self conscious of how difficult it is for her to form lasting emotional bonds with other people. She tends to blame herself when she feels she’s been abandoned by others, and feels that her inability make friends is a sign that she’s a defective failure. If someone wanted to manipulate her into doing something she didn’t want to do, they would probably find success if they offered her friendship and then fed into that self loathing, emotionally abusing her by implying that she was indeed a failure, and would be abandoned again if she didn’t obey. That is totally something someone could do to her, and I would absolutely not enjoy any ship between her and such a person. Good thing Hordak… y’know… did literally the opposite of that.
***EXAMPLE THE THIRD- “ENTRAPDAK, THE PLATONIC”***
A nice short one to balance out the longer examples above. Quite a few people just deny that there are romantic implications behind their interactions, and see them as a friendship instead. I do disagree with this assessment, but honestly, even if it were true, this would still be my favorite relationship in the show.
Something that has always boggled me about people on the internet is their tendency to treat friendship like some ‘equal but opposite’ force to romance… a status independent of a romantic relationship rather than literally the foundation upon which all successful romantic relationships are built. Genuine friendship is a beautiful, underrated thing, and acting as though the bond of friendship is inherently less worthy of appreciation than romance is silly.
So… yeah… platonic Entrapdak… I disagree, but even if you’re right and I’m wrong in the end… I’ll be pretty okay with that, too. Movin’ on.
***EXAMPLE THE FOURTH: ‘HORDAK, THE IRREDEEMABLE’***
For the last dealbreaker I want to consider today, I figured I’d bring one up that’s a lot like the platonic argument, in my eyes: that an evil guy like Hordak can’t change his ways, even with the power of love. Thus, the relationship is bust, because what’s the point of of a villain x heroine ship, if not to redeem the villain?
...
So, recently I wrote this whole big thing about Hordak, where I argued in favor of his redemption, and why I felt like that was where the story is going… I stand by the opinions expressed there, but I’d like to ask any who read that to push it out of their mind for now. Hordak’s redemptive potential is largely irrelevant to my feelings about this ship. When it comes to entrapdak, when confronted by the possibility that Hordak may remain a villain, my reaction is the most intense and passionate of shrugs.
...I just don’t care.
There’s a tendency to assume that redemption is the aim of a villain ship, and I suppose I can see why that is. There’s a bit of a stereotype for female fantasies where they fix a broken man with the power of their love, and when people ship villains, that’s probably the first assumption an outsider will make as to why. I cannot speak for others, but that’s just not a factor in the appeal of their relationship for me.
When you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of another person, you open yourself up to the risk of being completely devastated by them. When you show vulnerability to another person, and they accept that side of you, and express vulnerability of their own, you establish a genuine connection with that person, and those connections are kiiiinda one of the most important elements of the human experience.
That Hordak was a villain who did terrible things was always kinda aside from the point of what really makes Entrapta and Hordak such a bewitching pairing for me. It was always the serendipity of two people who privately believe they’re alone in the world realizing they resonate with one another in a meaningful way. Resonance is the appeal of Entrapdak, not redemption.
I tend to hope for Hordak’s redemption, I won’t lie, and I do think it’s likely, but I don’t think it’ll be love that redeems him, nor would I want it to be… not entirely. I like seeing flawed, morally dark/gray characters overcome the obstacles that deny them self actualization, and watching them grow as a result.
That’s got nothing to do with him and Entrapta, though. Whether the story ends with the pair of them riding into the sunset to collect data and invent shit, or with the pair of them leading the Horde in the name of galactic conquest and terror… I’m down with it either way, dude. In the context of the ship, I care that Hordak is an evil overlord… about as much as Entrapta does.
However, pseudo-responding to naysayers is a bit negative for my tastes. I prefer to focus on the positive in life, like the smell of soil and rain on a crisp autumn morning. I… I’m in a very fall mood, okay? Sue me. Y’know what else I like, though? Entrapdak. Lemme wax poetic for a bit longer, and I’ll tell ya why this ship is, like, the peanut butter on my blueberry pancakes.
Part 2: Entrapdak- Why I love it
So, uh… If brevity is the soul of wit, I may be something of an idiot. I’ve made my peace with that, of course, I’m just sayin’: I’m many things, but I’m not pithy. If someone were to put a gun to my head, though, and demand that I describe the shipping aesthetic I love the most in life in a single sentence… I would probably respond with this:
My favorite ships are ones in which awkward, lonely people bond over a shared fondness of nerdy hobbies.
Now, that sounds super narrow, and it totally is… I don’t get new OTPs very often… but hearing that, I imagine you can see why Entrapta and Hordak immediately appealed to me. It goes a bit deeper, though.
The bonds between people are a major part of the story of She-ra. We see how characters are changed, positively or negatively, by the connection they share with other characters. Just like in real life, these connections are a mixed bag; some of them are positive, and some are negative. Some characters, like Hordak and Catra, resonate strongly with one another, but the resonance is a negative force in their lives, which draws them deeper into darkness, and for many of the characters in the show, their character journeys are about breaking free of such toxic relationships and forming healthy bonds.
The bond between Entrapta and Hordak is unique among all bonds in the show though, in that it is the only one that isn’t mixed. It is an unambiguous positive influence on both of them. Let’s break it down a little bit.
***ENTRAPTA***
Entrapta, at first, seems like the kind of person who isn’t super connected to other people. At the princess prom, she mentions that she finds observing the relationships of others far more fascinating than forging relationships of her own, and she spends much of the early seasons working alone with her robots, buried in whichever task happens to have her interest in that particular moment.
Later seasons gradually tear this facade away, though, and reveal a fairly tragic truth hidden behind it. I mentioned above that she internalizes her failures to form lasting bonds with other people, and is genuinely distraught about it. When she’s exiled to Beast Island, her frustration at her inability to make friends was the driving force that chained her there, even more so than her love of technology and invention. It becomes clear that, to some degree, she buries herself in her work to escape her feelings of inadequacy.
This is a relatable and sad thing to realize about a character, but it also has the unpleasant effect of making events that were played for laughs earlier in the show somewhat tragic in hindsight. Seeing the way she interacted with the Princess Alliance, you could see how she would have come to a very soul-crushing misunderstanding: That, among other people, she was someone whose presence was… tolerated- at times even appreciated- but never seemed to be enjoyed by anyone. She was the friend everyone sought out when they needed her help, then forgot about.
This wasn’t the case, of course, and clarifying her value to the group was what ultimately helped her escape the vines in season four, but from her perspective that was how it appeared, and likely how all her previous interactions with other people had gone before that. Some people complained about how easily Entrapta was able to believe that the princesses had left her behind, but it’s the same reason Hordak was so easily able to believe that Entrapta had betrayed him: In the eyes of someone who hates themselves, it’s only a matter of time before others abandon them.
That said, it also goes to show why Hordak became so special to her. For the first time in her life, she had a friend who joined her in her workspace, instead of leaving her to a task after giving it to her. Someone able to converse equally with her about subjects she was interested in. The elements of herself that made it so difficult to draw closer to others were the very same elements that caused her to get so close to him. Her intelligence and hyper-focus upon science made her the intellectual peer of a space-faring alien, her lack of awareness of social subtext helped her to see beyond the barriers he put up to keep other people away, and her past experience with failure and rejection helped her to empathize with his pain.
It’s perfectly pleasant to find someone who accepts you and enjoys your company despite not understanding the idiosyncratic elements of your personality, but that pales in comparison to how it feels to find someone who accepts you precisely because they understand those elements.
***Hordak***
Hordak didn’t really have ‘peers’, per se, for most of his life. We don’t know the level of autonomy the average clone has in the Horde… but I feel comfortable assuming that the level isn’t very high. Thus, his circumstance differs quite a bit from Entrapta, in that, rather than trying to form bonds with others, and feeling like he failed, for much of his life he never had the chance to try to form them in the first place.
He is, at first, deeply dismissive of the people of Etheria, whom he regards as primitives who are beneath his acknowledgment. Much of this, as with much of everything that dictates how he treats others, is born of projection… dude has some pretty major self-loathing issues… but regardless of cause, it results in a kind of self-imposed isolation.
Unlike Entrapta, who knew, on some level, that her lack of ability to bond with others troubled her, Hordak kept most of his emotions bottled up... Locked so deeply inside him that not even he really bothered to try to understand them. That was where her disposition and his meshed perfectly for him. Because Entrapta was defined by her curiosity, and her lackluster awareness of his attempts to keep her at bay, she was able to metaphorically crack him open, forcing him to vocalize and confront his own motivations.
Sometimes you need someone to just… like... grab you with their hair, push you up against a vat, and demand you tell them everything, man.
I’ve already discussed Hordak fairly extensively in my first blog blurb thingy, and while I repeat myself by accident quite frequently, I’m loathe to repeat myself on purpose. I just wanted to take the opportunity to marvel at how well their personalities fit together. Perhaps I’m just high on this feeling: I’ve never actually shipped something a creator so clearly intended to be there, before!
*** In Conclusion***
We’re all born imperfect, and we’ll all die imperfect. Our imperfections are similar, but never uniform. Each of us bears jagged cuts and missing sections of many shapes and sizes. Humans are social creatures, and it’s in our nature to constantly seek one another out. We keep trying to find people who are strong where we are weak; someone whose missing sections happen to lie in a pattern compatible with our own.
We’ll resonate with many in our lifetime. Sometimes, the melody will be harmonious, and guide all involved higher and higher into the light of self actualization. Other times the sound will be discordant, and pull us down into self destruction. Sadly, from our perspective in the middle, it will always be difficult to tell which is which.
I love the relationship between Entrapta and Hordak because it’s a dynamic that elevates both of them. Not in a moral sense, but in a personal one. In a series defined by toxic and uneven relationships that wear others down and tear them apart, these two have a dynamic that shelters and reinforces them. Giving them an opportunity to be glad they were born the way they were, instead of cursing their misfortune.
It’s the kind of relationship that makes me muse about how imperfection really is beautiful. It’s because we’re imperfect that we never stop trying to harmonize with other people, and if there’s one theme I can’t help but feel that the show itself is building toward, it’s this: Two in harmony surpass one in perfection.
*** So hey! Thanks for reading all of that! Sorry if it was a bit of a mess. Saying nothing with a great deal of words is a talent of mine, but I really do love these guys, and if you love ‘em too, don’t let anyone grind you down over it!
Let me know if you enjoyed my work, though! If so, I’ll be happy to share my thoughts on other things, since I’ll be stuck with this series on my brain until I see how my new obsession plays out. In the meantime take care of yourselves! If you do heavy lifting, make sure to do so with your knees, not your back. Tell someone who makes your day a little brighter how much you appreciate them. Then, take some time to savor the greatest of all winter beverages: hot apple cider.
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
Plans
Hmm this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, it’s about time we published it I think. This one’s honestly REALLY dark but just as a disclaimer, I’m a-okay and this is solely a sort of character study!
TWs: Suicidal ideation examined in detail, references to a suicide, everyone is okay though I promise
It wasn’t often. It was becoming rarer as days went on and the sweet night air became less novel. As the knowledge that they were here sunk in further. James was safe. Nathan was alive, was getting healthier, was having more decent days as they stayed.
Things were good.
And even so...sometimes Samuel still thought about it. He thought about how easy it would be. He had the equipment to do it, to banish everything and wrap himself in the soothing concept of nothing. Lying on the couch, limbs heavy with malaise that had a single, overwhelming source, Samuel listened to the seconds tick by.
Each one slipped past, taking another little minute amount of the urge with it. Tired blue eyes stared up at the popcorn ceiling, illuminated by the scant moonlight that filtered into the living room. There were knives in the kitchen. Slow, painful. Not ideal. There was a gun, locked in the cabinet in the lab and leftover from their universe search. Messy, loud. Someone would have to deal with the aftermath. Poison, in a few places. Not guaranteed, not really. Electricity raced through the home, enough to do the trick. No one would buy that it was an accident.
And the list went on and on. Nothing would wait for him afterwards, if the universes were merciful. Nathan and James would be okay, in the end.
But they’d struggle, and Nathan would be worse, and James would be stuck navigating a world even stranger than the one he was born in all on his own. The negatives vastly outweighed the benefits, if Samuel was being honest.
He’d found that was becoming more and more true. This world had grass, and clean-ish rain, and fauna that usually wouldn’t kill you without good reason. It had more sunlight to tease out the once-faint freckles on James’ face. It had instant hot cocoa, and zoos that held animals that were no longer just stories, and people who wanted to learn how to put technology together for more than just making more weapons.
This universe didn’t feel hollow, or like an inevitable dead end that Samuel only ever staved off by the skin of his teeth. Just like the rose bush nurtured by the corpse he’d replaced, there was potential if he stuck around and was persistent enough. Every other Samuel that he’d seen had killed himself, sure, but every other Samuel had also failed to find the secret to hopping universes. They didn’t have the knowledge that he had. They hadn’t had a James drop by, needing work, looking at him with searching maroon eyes like he had worthwhile things to say.
Really, the worst part was that it would be so easy to just get up right then, and kill himself. So terrifyingly easy. In just a few minutes, everything would be over. This universe’s Samuel did that. He could almost hear the noise of the rope going taut, the creak of a body still swinging from the drop. A grisly sight--a desperate, pitiful sight of a man who’d failed for the last time, who hadn’t yet put the oddly-shaped, pictureless puzzle of what had been killing Nathan together.
He wasn’t that Samuel though.
This was just a bad night. Every breath he took swept away a little more of the need, the craving, helping the tiny, grasping surface of the seconds that ticked along to soothe him further. This was just a bad night, and he was better off alive than dead. He could do what the other Samuel Byrnes couldn’t. His bones might have ached with weariness that he couldn’t word, and he might not have been perfect, but he could keep breathing. For that moment, while the grip the horrible need had on his heart started to fade away, he could still breathe, and he could wake up in the morning, and he could burn some more pancakes, and Nathan could laugh at him.
That sounded like a much better plan.
#whump#emotional whump#angst#HEAVY angst#suicidal ideation /#thoughts of suicide#references to a suicide#suicide /#and I won't be a winner#this one gets dark but everyone is okay#I promise no one gets hurt that didn't already get hurt
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
we are but only a moment
at last the seventh of the anon sentence starter prompts!! I have to specify that now because I have so many other anon prompts I’m slowly getting round to. this one was ‘you said to be honest stop hitting me!!’ with parrlyn.
honestly you can thank the sixcord for the fact that this is so soft because it’s currently loving hours so I’m riding the wave of validation and love. this one’s for you sixcord, I love you all so much <3
With their job meaning they worked evenings nearly every day, date nights for Cathy and Anne were a rare occurrence. After their last show each week the custom was that all the queens would go out together, the night of their one day off a week was spent getting well-needed rest before the nine shows ahead, and usually their random days off would never coincide to give them a free evening together. It was a hectic and sometimes antisocial schedule, but it meant that they valued every moment they got to share in each other’s company.
Lunch dates were common for them, and sometimes breakfast dates on the rare occasion that Anne could get Cathy to wake up before midday. On the even rarer occasion that they had an evening free for just the two of them they would sometimes go out for a date at a local pub, but sometimes when they couldn’t be bothered they would just buy a bottle of wine for the two of them and have a night in together.
“Cheers love,” Cathy said, chinking her wine glass against Anne’s as she made herself comfy on the sofa. The rest of the queens were doing the show so it was just the two of them in the house, so they could relax fully with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be disturbed for a few hours.
Anne grinned as she drank a large sip of her wine, and Cathy knew that she’d need to keep an eye on how much she was drinking if she didn’t want a very tipsy girlfriend on her hands. Somehow Anne could handle her liquor with ease but wine got her drunk and quickly. “This is nice. We should do this more often,” she said.
Cathy hummed in agreement. “We can enjoy what we get though,” she pointed out with a smile, nudging Anne’s knee with hers as she added “You’re always worth waiting for.”
“Aww, thanks babes,” Anne giggled, a giddy smile on her face as she nudged Cathy back.
Laughing at how easily she could make Anne blush, Cathy took a sip of her wine and sighed happily. Every time she was on a date with Anne she always ended up thinking about how happy she was, happier than she’d ever thought possible with her track record of bad luck romantically. But here in the present with her girlfriend by her side was the only place she could ever want to be.
At a quiet chuckle from Anne, Cathy turned to see her watching her with an amused expression. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours, hmm?” she asked.
Cathy grinned, shaking her head then shrugging her shoulders as she struggled to put her thoughts into coherent words. “I don’t know. Just how happy I am I suppose. Sat here, with you.”
“You’re cute,” Anne said, grinning brightly with a blush on her cheeks, “keep going.”
“With what?”
Anne shrugged. “Stuff you’re happy about. I had this conversation with Jane the other week and it was really nice just saying things that made us happy. I’ve started including it in what I write in my diary.” While Cathy was the bigger diarist between the two of them, she’d known that Anne had a little journal that she used to write down her feelings when she wasn’t able to say them out loud.
Cathy thought for a moment, taking another sip of her wine before asking “What did you tell Jane?”
“Little things, not big things,” Anne said, face scrunched as she tried to remember exactly what she’d said that evening. “Ehhh, stuff like waking up to the smell of coffee and getting tipsy down the pub. Normal stuff that normal people get to have.”
Nodding, Cathy tried to think along those lines with the little things she appreciated in this life. “Being able to write without being afraid,” she said first; even though that had become her normal now she vowed to never take it for granted that she could speak her mind without fearing the consequences. “Getting to set my own schedule, if I want to spend all night watching stupid conspiracy theories online I can. And then when I come downstairs in the morning you’re all here to say hello to me. It’s nice.” There was a smile on her face as she finished, since that last point was really something she treasured.
“Yeah, it is nice,” Anne agreed. “Just having everyone around, I mean. Feeling part of something and not being scared that it’s got terms and conditions attached.”
As much as Anne’s face gave nothing away, there was a slightly tremor in her voice there that Cathy resonated with far too well. They were all accustomed to being painfully aware that nothing was unconditional when it came to love, and even though some of them had paid a higher price than others it was something that affected them all.
“Nothing has terms and conditions attached anymore,” Cathy said as Anne’s gaze dropped to the floor, scooting closer to put an arm round her girlfriend’s shoulders.
Anne mumbled a muffled “Yeah,” as she snuggled into Cathy’s side with her face buried in her t-shirt.
She stayed like that for a little while, Cathy’s fingers tracing random patterns on her upper back, before she wriggled out from under Cathy’s arm to drain the rest of her wine and pour herself a generous second glass. “Do you ever think of how lucky we really are?” she asked as she settled back down, her eyes shadowed as she looked across the room.
“What do you mean, love?” Cathy asked, taking Anne’s hand and gently stroking the back of her palm with her thumb.
Anne glanced down at their joined hands and smiled faintly before she continued. “I wonder how many people from our time ever got a second chance like this?” she asked rhetorically, no emotion in her voice except open honesty. “To live again and love again with none of the confinements we were used to. Sometimes I don’t think I’m worthy of any of it at all.”
Cathy’s expression as she met Anne’s gaze must have been sadder than she realised because Anne quickly added “I’m not asking that in a self-hatred way, don’t worry. It’s just amazing really. That I of all people get this.” She squeezed Cathy’s hand as she spoke for added reassurance.
For a couple of moments Cathy was quiet, continuing to run her thumb over Anne’s hand as she thought of what she really wanted to say. Eventually she looked up to look into Anne’s eyes as she said “Can I tell you why you deserve it?”
Anne gave her a lop-sided smile. “Go on then. Be honest though, don’t go flattering me just ‘cause you’re my girlfriend and you love me.”
“Well there’s reason number one, I do love you,” Cathy quipped, and Anne pretended to look annoyed though her grin gave her away. Sobering up a little, she said “Because you were so wronged by in your old life. You were an amazing intelligent person who was born in the wrong time and married to the wrong person who wouldn’t let you voice your brilliant opinions. You of all people deserve another chance to get to be yourself and- hey you said to be honest stop hitting me!”
She broke off as Anne started lightly hitting her arm with her head down, but when she looked up at Cathy she could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Shut up, I love you so much,” Anne choked out, and Cathy had to act fast to save her empty wine glass when Anne practically threw herself into her lap.
Just about managing to lean over and put their two glasses down on the floor, Cathy wrapped her arms around Anne who was clinging to her like her life depended on it. “I love you too,” she whispered in Anne’s ear, smiling when Anne’s arms tightened at her words. “And I’m so glad you did get this second chance because mine wouldn’t be half as incredible as it is without you here with me.”
Anne didn’t answer verbally, clearly too overwhelmed to put her feelings into words in that moment. Instead she just kissed Cathy deeply, emotional tears still running down her cheeks which Cathy reached out to catch with gentle kisses when they broke apart. Anne giggled at that, then leaned forward to rest their foreheads together in a muted display of how much she loved her.
Cathy smiled, letting herself be surrounded by just Anne’s presence. As much as she truly did appreciate all the little things she had listed earlier, she could never deny that the thing she appreciated the most about her second chance was sat right there in her arms for her to never let go.
#six the musical#six the musical fanfiction#six the musical fanfic#parrlyn#anne boleyn#catherine parr#laila's writing
87 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you could make another Ed Edd n Eddy game, what would you want it to be like?
Platformers are cool, but also basic and safe. An Ed, Edd n Eddy video game should be about performing scams. Specifically, doing the right ones at the right location, based on people’s mood, their budget, the weather, and the tools you managed to find.I guess the first part of each level has you choose which Ed should do what, and you can’t change this afterwards: scouting, building, selling.Each character has his pros and cons, but this system will ensure that getting a full 100% success is tricky. Which fits the struggle the Eds go through in the original series.Ed as a scout can pick up countless of items along the way, enabling more building options and additions, but he isn’t good at “eavesdropping”. His simple mind can’t pick up on important details, which a scout needs to remember for the next section in order to have more ideas and selling options unlocked. The Eds won’t know what their scam should be, otherwise. You could choose to make Ed stick around longer when listening in on someone, but this comes with the risk he’ll be sought after or found out, which will ensure those children won’t be showing up for the scam. Cause, like, why are you being so silent and creepy over there.Ed as a builder can work with and combine big and heavy objects, which allows for the creation of large eye-catchers that’re bound to ensnare people who’re farther away (handy when you’ve picked a slightly off location), but he’s clumsy, so the player will need either luck or a steady hand while building. Depends on the controls for this non-existent game. Besides that, the scam will never look or operate its optimal best with Ed as the builder. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing if the scam itself allows for it, people’s moods are great, the parts themselves are decent, and whoever the salesman is is doing a banging job.Ed as a seller is able to consistently win certain characters over with his upbeat energy, but his dialogue options become more distorted the longer you allow him to speak. You’ll have to make him do other things inbetween. Like staying silent or showing examples of whatever he’s selling. Still, silence only works when people aren’t heavily focused on the seller, and Ed is still an oaf, so giving too many presentations can result into embarrassment or total destruction of the scam you just built.Edd as a scout has limited energy and strength, but the few items he’s able to carry are always durable and increase the chance that whatever they plan to build won’t collapse. As quickly. Edd’s biggest talent as a scout is the eavesdropping. He’ll remember every stupid little detail, allowing for tons of scam ideas in the building section. The neighbourhood children feel most at ease with him around as well, so you can basically have Edd walk past everyone and collect their voices before they become suspicious. No need to be hiding or sneaking.Edd as a builder will ensure that consumptions or contraptions are of quality, look good, and will somewhat please the customers that use it, even if the materials and salesman’s pitch were unsuccessful. Builder Edd can spawn “happy costumer” bonuses; where a paying customer might convince skeptics to give it a try, anyway. You’ll need at least one paying customer for this chance, so don’t completely mess up that selling section.Edd as a seller benefits from that trust the neighbourhood has in him and people stick around longer to listen, but he’s a nervous salesman depending on the scam you’ve chosen to go with. It can take a while for dialogue options to show, and sometimes he can screw the player by only giving brutally honest statements or using a vocabulary that people can’t appreciate, unless they’re in a certain mood. But he’s consistently good at showing off the product.Eddy as a scout is speedy and has balanced strength for carrying objects. People don’t like to see him around, though, so he pretty much has to hide every time if he wants to eavesdrop. Eddy has selective hearing and will only pick up the most important details, which’ll make building easier, in the sense you’re always given basic scam suggestions that match people’s wishes. But this won’t allow for much creativity and you’ll never know what else you could’ve done to get a higher score.Eddy as a builder lacks motivation and this section comes with a short time limit. Things built by Eddy will look very cool and flashy, though, it’s bound to attract those who’re close-by. Handy when you have a weak salesman.Eddy as a seller is loud and quick, he’ll never sit still and the dialogue options are plenty. Having him as the seller gets you guaranteed customers, but it’s important to remember he’s the least trusted person in the neighbourhood and you should switch over to a different seller after two levels, and immediately after your last level/scam failed. Otherwise he’ll overstay his welcome and the majority will avoid him. There’s 50% chance the Kanker sisters will be looking for you in the scouting missions. If they catch you, you’ll lose half of the items you were carrying, the section ends right away, and the character caught will have to play until the end of the next level with lipstick smooches on his face. Which’ll make selling difficult if you planned to use him for it.If you find an extremely rare jawbreaker lying around in a scouting mission, you may reorder the Eds. Having Edd as a scout and again as a builder will give huge customer satisfaction, for example.Earning yourself an even rarer 100% in a level immediately spawns the Kankers who take all of your money. You’ll have to win them over as legitimate customers in the next level in order to get the last 100% back, get rekt. Keeping this 100% score will earn you a new area to scam people at, namely the school.Hard mode comes with you having to use the same order of Eds for the entirety of the game and never failing once.Alright, wasted my time enough.
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
@jcllyfisn warning in advance i wrote this with my head switched off, but the inspiration had me. probably completely ooc but //clenches fist// i love htem.
It starts like this.
It starts slowly, seeping through cracks she didn’t know were there, sneaking up on her and settling in her bones before she can do so much as guard against it.
It starts on quiet nights and early mornings, in messy breakfasts and walks on the beach, happens with little nudges and snarky comments, drinks shared over laughter and tears, with fights and with embraces and without even a little warning at all.
It starts here.
Val is zoned out, sitting, staring at nothing as she usually does; as she has been, for the past hour. Somewhere in the back of her head, she registers the ache seeping into her bones along with the cold, her muscles stiff and angry. She doesn’t move. She sits, and she stares, and she ignores the world for a moment, lets her mind go blank and deliberately doesn’t think of anything. Doesn’t think of the way her hands ached with bruises. Doesn’t think of how her split lip had scabbed, weird and pinched and going to heal wrong. Doesn’t think of the look in that girl’s eyes as Val had pounded her father — murderous, drug-running, but still a father — into the ground. She doesn’t think of any of that, and instead she fills her head with nothing and everything, gaze fixed on the horizon where dusk stains the sky with crimson, and sits. Her ears are filled with a constant buzzing, the back of her eyes tattooed with static-y and off-coloured shapes that make no sense. But the ocean is calm, the beach is empty, and only the soft crash of breaking waves in the distance disturbs her vigil.
She doesn’t know how much time has passed, maybe a minute, maybe an hour, but eventually she blinks and night has fallen. The red has leached out of the sky, replaced with violet, and indigo, and a million tiny pinpricks of light. There’s someone standing in front of her, a darker shape in the dark of the evening, and the light of the moon allows her to pick out details like the line of a nose, or the pattern of a coat. None of that matters though, because Val would know that shape by heart, no matter how it changes.
They don’t talk, but Olivier takes a seat next to her, close enough that Val can feel the way her raincoat creases as she moves, can feel the heat of another human being, hear her breathing in and out in time with the waves, slow and steady. Val lets her eyes slip closed. She leans, just that tiny bit it takes until she’s resting her head on Olivier’s shoulder, and basks in the warmth that radiates between them, spreading throughout her body. Her back aches, and her fingers cramp when she moves them, and she’s pretty sure that if she tries to stand up her legs will be numb — but it’s nice.
It’s quiet.
That’s the beginning, but looking back, it’s not until later that things change. Like a ball rolling down a hill, it starts slow and builds momentum, and Val is left chasing after it and wishing she had realised sooner.
It’s a fleeting touch on the back of her neck as she teases Quartz, tiny grin bared for all to see as Val gives the kid a heartfelt noogie (Quartz hisses and spits and struggles in her arms, but Val knows she could easily break free if she wanted to — and isn’t it something, that this wounded, broken, wonderful child has come to trust them even this much? The inevitable bites and scratches will be worn like a badge of honour, smug because, ha! In your face Thatch, Quartz likes her). It lingers both too long and not long enough, and Val leans into the touch, as she always does, but doesn’t give up on her quest to embarrass the kid. Olivier passes by, her hand trailing along the nape of Val’s neck and over her shoulder, and the shiver along her spine has nothing to do with Marco’s tired glare and everything to do with the glance Olivier left with — one alight with hidden mirth and something like affection. Arms slackening around her prize, Quartz breaks free in an instant, hair fluffy and sticking out in every direction, cheeks adorably flushed as she bites out curses Val would be proud of if she weren’t distracted. She tracks Olivier’s progress across the deck and resists the urge to follow after her, resists the gravity that has her facing the door Olivier vanished into, like Mercury orbiting the sun.
But the pull is there, and it never quite disappears.
It’s the way her hair catches the light of late afternoon, one day by the deck. There’s a party in full swing around them, a welcome or a birthday or something, but Val is rooted to the spot, hand half raised in greeting. People laugh and chatter and push by her, there’s music starting up, and someone’s said something that makes Whitebeard roar with laughter — and Val stands there and remembers. She remembers that sunset from months ago, and thinks Olivier’s hair is the same shade of violet. Exactly the same, Val thinks. Lit from behind with the light of the sun, warm and cool meeting and melting together seamlessly, she can almost see it soak up the scarlet sky until it’s dyed a boundless indigo and dusted with stars. It should be nothing, just a passing fancy, but it leaves her struck still.
And then Olivier turns, and sees her, and smiles, and Val’s chest catches fire.
It’s a tiny thing, that smile, tiny and sweet and real.
The fire in her chest has burnt it’s way up to her cheeks by the time Val manages to move, but she doesn’t continue on, she spins on her heel and leaves, manages to make it to a hallway below deck with only minor stumbling, and she swallows and counts that as a win.
Time passes, as it always does, and it becomes normal, feeling a wildfire burning inside her when she’s around Olivier. Sometimes she will smile, or tell a joke, or get that light of mischief in her eyes that means she’s about to prank some unfortunate soul, and the blaze will flutter and spark like a gust of wind fanned through it; Other times, times when they haven’t seen each other in weeks, months, times when events catch up to them, when she says something wrong, or forgets — then it feels like going hungry and losing appetite at the same time, fire sputtering to embers and glowing coal; but it never goes out.
Val learns to adjust to the inferno beneath her skin.
Even with that, it takes more. Val’s on an island, alone for the first time in what feels like forever, but has really only been a couple of weeks. There’s a good lead on a bounty, plenty of money in her wallet, a great bar just down the road, and she even has a place to stay. By all rights, she should be thoroughly enjoying her stay here, but. She’s not.
There’s something trailing at her footsteps, a need to call out, but nobody to call to. A reminder, in lilac baubles and strange seafood. A glimpse in a window, half expecting there to be two reflections instead of the one.
She’s. . . not restless, that’s the wrong word for the emotion curled in the hollow space between ribs, around her shoulders, pressing her down. She’s not restless, but it’s similar. She’s. . .
Lonely.
Val pauses in the street, let’s the bounty she’d been trailing round a corner without her. Loneliness is an emotion she hadn’t allowed herself in years, not even when separated from Johnny and Yosaku, and to feel it now sends a dull thorn into her mind. It’s a crack in her mental blocks, and now that she recognises the one, others come tumbling after: she’d been sad, to leave the ship. She’d been happy, to be wished well on her travels. She was eager to leave the island and return h-
She stops that thought there, turns around and heads for the bar.
When she does return to the ship, a month later than she’d promised last she wrote, it’s with sheepish apologies for the worry and many souvenirs. The gifts are received with mixed reactions, but that’s fine, she hadn’t really been paying attention when she bought them this time. She’d been distracted by feelings, of all things, and it had taken an unfortunate amount of time to wrap her head around the fact that that was okay now, that she was allowed to feel. And what a revelation that had been, face down in the sand with a nest of empty bottles around her, leagues away from the people who caused it. No one has ever accused Val of being the smartest crayon in the shed, but she tries not to cringe as she thinks of it. She really is dense, sometimes.
She’d missed them, the Whitebeards. And most of all, Olivier.
Thoughts of returning had buoyed her borrowed sails, and this time she didn’t let ending up on the wrong ship steer her off course. She wasn’t part of the family, she wasn’t even friends with most of them, but they made her feel welcome in a way precious few had before, and it struck her that she’d never told them how much that meant. She wanted to, now, wanted it with a passion she rarely felt and even rarer acted on. Olivier isn’t there, but she’s probably away on business and Val doesn’t let it bother her. She opens her mouth to say something, her small gathering by the rails comparing presents and ribbing each other in a happy mess of bodies, and then she spots her. Olivier is next to her father, gesturing at something before heading their way, and Val thinks, I should wait for her, and, her coat looks a bit singed, and, Stephan got bigger again.
And then their eyes meet.
It starts like this: a flash of purple, a fleeting touch, a secret smile.
It burns in the back of her throat, and makes her heart beat raw and aching, and steals the breath from her lungs to make room for- for other things.
Val meets Olivier’s eyes across the deck, and it’s like stepping off a ledge, her stomach swooping in ways that probably aren’t healthy.
Something grows in her chest, sinks deep into her veins and hooks into her skin, strips the words from her tongue and shifts everything inside her just a bit to the left, just enough to tilt the world on its axis. Or maybe she’s the one tilting (though it feels more like falling), and regardless she reels from it. Head spinning, the world settles around her in a new and unfamiliar way when she finally finds her feet.
“Oh,” Val says. Breathes the word out, because there’s no room left in her for anything but realisation, and the importance of air and oxygen leave her mind in the wake of it. And then she says it again, because, “Oh.”
She’s in love.
#✖️ Writings#✖️ Valvier [The world between my hands]#( i feel like i should tag this ooc because of olivier )#( anyway let it be known that i don't know what a word is )#( happy valentines mik! )#long post
1 note
·
View note
Text
Of Food Courts and Closets- Chapter 1
Remember when I said I might upload some of my writing :D
So this is a fic prompt by @omegaverse-council that got out of hand. I couldn’t figure out how to link the post so ??? Depending on how this goes I might make it an actual thing? Please provide feedback/critisicism/discussion/questions. This part may be a bit rough cause I just kind of wrote it. If it becomes a thing I’ll be cleaning it up.
The prompt was an Alpha celeberty escaping the paparazzi and finding an Omega with a fussy baby.
There was nothing quite like the crowds and smells of the mall food court. The bustle of each competing sound and scent. The greasy stink of the pizza place and the savory ginger of the Chinese style shop wafted out and about the sweet smelling Omegas who offered samples. The sour-stink of a fuming couple, the nervous buzz of teenagers on a date, the fresh scent of children and all of their loud, youthful energy. While it could be overwhelming there was also a comfort in how familiar the place could feel. "Did you find everything you wanted to get?" The question surprised Owen who quickly realized he'd been sitting around looking like an idiot while his friend had thrown away their trash and gathered his own bags. The colored logos stretched out across the plastic and hinted at the contents inside. He stood quickly, with a thank you and a nod towards the trash, "Yeah, my towels were getting old and I just wanted to get some early presents." Richard nodded along, looking up at his taller friend as they headed out the food court and towards the exit. Owen tried to keep his pace short, and not seem suspicious. His hat and jacket had seemed to do the trick in the crowd, and he hadn't been recognized yet today. But the paparazzi had been more eager than ever since he landed his new role, and even around his house it was becoming more difficult to slip by. They walked in silence for a little bit, ignoring the offers from kiosk vendors and the studiously ignoring the clearance signs hung in the store windows. "I'm glad," Rich stated. When Owen glanced over, a confused quirk to his brow he elaborated, "That you called I mean. And that we got to hang out, it's been too long and it's been good to see you." "I know. I'm glad you were free and my shoot ended early. But I promise I won't forget about you when I'm famous." Owen grinned. They both chuckled and came to a pause outside in the parking lot. The sky overhead was a grey, and the sun struggled to peek through the dense clouds or the late November sky. It wouldn't rain today but the delicate bursts of cold wind warned them not to be outside for too long. "Are you sure you don't need a ride back? It's really no trouble." Richard insisted again. "No, it's only a few blocks, and I want to walk a little bit before I make the drive all the way back home." Rich looked over him carefully, as if considering to trust his judgment and Owen crossed his eyes to make him laugh before the other acceded. "Alright, alright, if you're sure then. Be safe and give me a call again sometime, I know you'll have a lot to do soon." With a lazy sweep of his arm, Owen started to walk back and called out, "See ya Rich!" before tugging his gloves on against the nipping wind. ___________ She felt sleep dragging down on her and curcled her back tighther against the wind. The heavy clouds seemed to be weighing down her eyelids and she struggled to keep them open. The woman glanced at her chest where an infant was tucking into a sash she'd tied under her jacket. His brown hair peeked out from the tiny baby hat and she tugged it back down over his head before continuing on her way. ____________ The city around him was vibrant despite the dull weather, street vendors were still out, hoping for lunch stranglers, and pigeons cooed about the trash for a soggy fry. Frazzled Omegas showed their in-laws the city, toting a couple of children as well. A Beta man walked briskly, chattering on his phone and clutching his briefcase. A group of older men passed out church fliers and a tired looking teenager loped across the street to the park. Today had been a simple day of friends and little goals that had slowly started to become rarer as he became more popular and Owen feared they might come to an end soon. He did love acting, and his fans were great, but he missed being not busy. Ignoring these thoughts he looked forward to turning up the heat in his car and going through a drive-thru to grab some coffee. It came as a shock suddenly when he felt his elbow tugged on and the tall man was turned around to catch a face full a strong cherry scent that overwhelmed him until he took another step back. "I knew it! You're Owen Childers right?" The Omega was unusually tall and he couldn't stop smiling as he talked, "I'm a big fan I'm so excited for the new movie. Could I get an autograph?" The boy was already patting himself down and before long he'd acquired a sharpie and with a furitive glance upwards, took his hat off and handed both over. "If you could just sign that toe Kev that'd be awesome." He ran his hands through his blue haired and watched Owens hands carefully. At the boy's first exclamation a few people around them had glanced and whispered among each other, and now a few had gathered on the sidewalk to look him over. Already as Owen signed the boy's hat, another person was approaching, receipt and pen in hand. "This is so cool!" The blue haired boy gushed, "I have so many questions, were you and Maggie Blacke really a thing?" He took his hat back and admired the autograph on the bill. A line had begun to form and Owen was saved from asking as he greeted the next fan. He stood there, signing and taking photos for about 20 minutes, pleased at some moments, but becoming more impatient as time dragged on and questions went from genuine and kind to inappropriate and nosy and the group surrounding him on the sidewalk didn't seem to be getting smaller. The cold was beginning to freeze his ears and he could feel it creeping through his collar to his neck. The crowd had gotten too big, and Owen felt pressed and claustrophobic, he did his best to keep his scent under control but more people were chattering and asking questions and shoving roughly against each other with annoyed growls. They were unmoved by his obvious distress. And why wouldn't they be? He was a calm, friendly [non-car] with sleepy eyes and still a rookie in the industry. "Please give me some space." Owen requested, putting his hands out for room but was ignored. He was too far from the studio still to simply run and escape, though that was quickly looking like his only option. Owen had figured the weather and being in another city would make him less recognizable. He'd explained such a thing to his manager Geona, who'd tsked and waved him off but hadn't pressed the issue. But his dark hair and tall frame had started to grace magazine covers, and his shoulders were just a little too narrow to not be recognizable. As he was closed in on Owen found himself wishing he'd taken his manager's advice or even Richard's offer of a ride back to his car. With a quick breath, he ducked and broke through the crowd and rushed down the street. _________ The cold marble stone against her cheek was the first thing she felt as she came out of her doze. A child was running and shouting outside and it carried in through the small window near the ceiling. Tucked into her jacket, and infant started to whimper. And with a sigh, the woman shifted the baby to wipe its nose and rock it back to sleep. ________ Jogging was a relaxing activity for Owen. A time that could stretch from ten minutes to an hour where he could consider and focus on one thing besides his breathing. Whether the sounds that surrounded him were the day slowly beginning with chirps and the slap of his feet on pavement or the steady pulse of a treadmill and chatter of the other people working out. Running from the paparazzi was quite different. There was no steady rhythm to fall into and his shopping bags bounced unhelpfully against his left leg as he ducked and zipped between the people. Behind him, the sound of his pursuers was fading and without looking back he pushed himself a little harder. He quickly came upon Wilbourne Square, during the summer a bustle of activity from tourists shopping at expensive shops and office workers or dentists going to lunch to local families that bustled to the park a few more blocks down the way. The last of the tourist were straggled about Welbourne Square now, and the lunch crowd was gone, but Owen still had to be careful to make sure he didn't run anyone over as he rushed through to the other side. Breathing deeply, he slowed and glanced about, looking for a place to lose his followers and circle back to his car. The seat warmer and coffee seemed a long way off and his sniffled in the cold. Peeking down an alley he was disappointed to find there wasn't a dumpster he could duck behind. The quick sound of running feet came to his ears and he glanced around again to find a storage closet down the alley. It might be locked but he had to try at least. Owen rushed inside the closet, too quickly to actually be relieved that it had opened, and huddled down behind the door, his ear against the wood to make sure the danger had passed and his breath held. But he couldn't pay attention to the sounds outside for very long before a growling in the closet with him caught his attention.
#original abo#omegaverse#original omegaverse writing#fic prompt#a/b/o#abo#abo dynamics#my writing#of food courts and closests#omegaverse writing
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sauade ~ Prologue (Time Travel AU)
Saudade: def.: a somewhat melancholic feeling of incompleteness; longing for something that might never return
genre: Angst
pairing: Stray Kids!Chan x Reader
words: 1,1k
description: You realize you regret most of your life decisions, so when you get a chance to change them you don’t say no
part: prologue
A/N: My first scenario on my new tumblr blog!:) You can send me requests for stray kids!!
And suddenly, after decades, your mind brought you back to this moment that happened what felt like a hundred summers ago. You could feel the ocean breeze blowing through your hair. Even the scent of that place had found its way back to your memories. Your imagination painted a picture of dry grass, a lonely beach and pine trees before your eyes. In your ears you could hear the waves hitting the shore with the occasional noise of crickets. There was also another sound, someone was humming a melody, a melody so familiar to you, yet you hadn’t heard it in ages. It’s him.
Overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of nostalgia you stood on the side walk in front of your work place for a few seconds, although it felt like hours had passed. You were not the type of person who would lose their mind and have day dreams about the past. Especially about something that is so insignificant to your life in the present. It took you a few moments to realize that a tear was rolling down your cheek. A very unusual thing for you since you hadn’t cried in ages. You shook your head and walked with a fast pace towards your car, dying to get out of this uncomfortable situation before anyone could see you. As you sat down behind the steering wheel the urge of crying overcame you and you just couldn’t fight against it anymore and let all your tears out.
You knew, later when you were at home, you would cringe at yourself. You just couldn’t stand it when you were weak, that’s why you decided to never cry again. But in this moment you didn’t care. In this very moment you didn’t want to fit in with your strict ideas of how you should be or how you should behave. Honestly, you didn’t even know what triggered your brain to go back to those memories. Maybe it was the sunlight that had hit your face the moment you had exited the building, or it was the longing feeling for a beautiful summer day. You hadn’t had time for yourself recently and it probably just showed in your mental health. At least that’s what you told yourself to calm down after a while.
You were unhappy. Your life hadn’t turned out the way you had expected it to turn out, although you never really had any dreams nor an idea for your life. You were a bitter person who struggled to watch their friends smile because you knew that deep down you were still searching for a reason to smile. When you were younger you thought this reason would be a successful career, so you put all your efforts into your work. Later, when you realized that wasn’t it, you dated around, because surely the love of your life would be able to make you happy. However, none of them made you happy.
So, you let yourself think about him, perhaps hoping that he would become a reason for you to smile for a split second.
You were nineteen years old when you met him. A super cute, but at the same time super hot 21-year old boy, who loved music, his friends and family, certainly did not sleep enough, and sometimes just thought too much. He would smile at you when he recognized you in the streets. He would tell you corny jokes and pretend they never happened when his friends started rolling their eyes next to him. You always assured him that you loved them though, which you really did since you appreciated him trying to cheer you up. Sometimes you would go to a beach together. It wasn’t really a pretty beach to be honest. The path that let to it was overgrown with dry and scratchy grass, the sand was dirty, the entry to the water was filled with rocks and stones that would make you scream in pain if you stepped accidentally on them and in the middle of the beach was some kind of campfire place which was accompanied by old and rusty chairs. However, it had its perks, since your were always alone there.
It was almost the end of summer, you had to go back to the city soon, when Chan asked you to meet up at that beach. You knew it, Chan knew it - it was gonna be your last day together. He took your hand and stroked it softly.
„You know, I don’t want you to go.“
He looked up to you and gave you a sad smile. It almost made you cry. He had always been so sweet and caring to you, however, nothing ever happened. In that moment you regretted it and you could feel in the tone of his voice that he regretted it as well.
You took a deep breath and replied, „I know, but I have to.“
Chan sighed and gave you another sad smile.
„I like you, I really do, to be honest, I think I‘ve fallen in love with you. I‘m an idiot for telling you know, I‘m sorry, y/n.“
It was sad, but your heart fluttered in this moment.
„Can I kiss you before you go?“
You nodded and he cupped your face in his hand while pulling you closer to him.
It was enough for you. You didn’t want to think about it again. You were lying in your bed and sobbing, because you missed him, you regretted everything, not trying to go back to that place sooner. He had always put in a lot of effort to try to stay in contact with you. Occasional facetime calls, a daily text, he had sometimes even sent hand-written letters. But you were too caught up in uni work to respond or show that you care. No more letters arrived at your place, the facetime calls got rarer and rarer and the daily text, turned into weekly and then into monthly until they stopped completely. When you finally had time again you were to afraid to contact him. What if he had another girlfriend? What if he was disappointed in you? What if he would break your heart? So, you never got back to him. Honestly, you forgot him. You hadn’t thought about him until today.
What if you had responded? Would you two be together now? Would you be happy now? He probably is married and has a beautiful little family and lives in a house by the ocean now. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s just like you? Don’t get your hopes up girl.
You didn’t listen to yourself and got up and walked to your Computer. While the bright moon was watching you, you logged into facebook and typed his name in the search bar.
Christopher Bang
Do you remember me? I miss you.
next part
#bangchan#chan#chris#scenarios#kpop#stray kids#stray kids scenarios#stray kids scenario#stray kids imagines#stray kids one shots#stray kids chan#chan scenarios#chan imagines#skz imagines#skz#skz chan#kpop angst#skz angst#skz writers
0 notes
Text
The Rose & Crown: Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)
Rating: M Chapters: 15/24
Summary: Clara awakens after her near-death experience to find the Doctor by her side, yet something about him has changed. The Doctor is suffering from the morality of his decision to save Clara and his unborn daughter from their fate.
Read the full story on another platform: Archive of Our Own Fan Fiction WattPad
The scent of freshly brewed tea caught her attention as she began to awaken from her current state of rest with an exhausted groan. Her entire body ached, her chest felt heavy and sore, her lungs struggled to fill with each new breath. There was an unrelenting thirst inside of her as if she had gone without water for weeks. Her eyes strained to focus on her new surroundings, looking upon the unfamiliar room with mild confusion. Aside from the bed in which she laid, a Victorian-style armoire, and a writing desk in the corner, the room was mostly barren save a few books lining a small shelf attached to the wall. The sound of a fireplace crackling nearby caused her to glance in its direction, her weary gaze meeting the face of her best friend sitting quietly at her bedside. His cheek was rested comfortably in the palm of his hand as if he were deep in thought, yet his attention remained focused on his newly awakened companion. Though his presence by her side brought a sense of calmness, she couldn’t help but notice the expression on his face appearing rather forlorn and melancholy as he silently looked to her.
In her fragile state, she carefully manoeuvred herself with great difficulty to a sitting position and rested herself against the headboard of the bed. Having settled, her mind stressed to recall the last thing she had done before waking up in the strange little room. Her head started to fill with so many questions. Where am I? How did I get here? Why can’t I remember? The last thing her mind was able to recover was fleeing hand in hand down the dark and narrow corridor while the Doctor led the way towards safety. A dull pain in her shoulder caused her to reach towards it, her fingers trailing along the surface of the patch still clinging to her skin. As the memory of their most recent escapade finally surfaced, she found herself unable to look him in the face. The sense of shame she felt towards her actions was just as painful in thought as it was physically. She felt his furrowed eyes upon her, yet she could not find the words to express that would reward her any redemption for what she’d done to him. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke.
“It’s good to see you finally awake,” he acknowledged her, clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned into his chair. “I was beginning to think that at any moment, a slew of dwarves would pass by to offer their condolences.”
“Very funny,” she replied faintly, sensing the newly estranged tone in his voice. “How long have you been holding that one in?”
“Oh, I’d say about three days. Give or take an hour or two,” he answered as if he hadn’t been counting every second that passed as she slept.
“Yep, that feels about right,” she managed to say with a painful moan, shifting her aching body to a better sitting position on the bed. Avoiding his deepened brow, she drew her attention to her swollen middle still prominently presented beneath the cover of linens draped over her. Tenderly placing her hands alongside her abdomen, she felt around for any sign of life still living within her. After several concerning moments from the lack of movement had passed, she forced herself to glance in his direction. “The baby. Is she-?”
“She is unharmed,” he answered dispassionately, watching intently as her relieved expression began to soothe her troubled thoughts. “For the moment, she seems to be resting quite comfortably. She’s remarkably resilient, given the circumstances. So very strong-willed and eager to survive. And, of course, stubborn just like her mother.”
“So long as she doesn’t have your eyebrows, I think we can afford a little more persistence in our lives,” she retorted, returning her attention to the swell beneath the covers. As terrified as she was of what their daughter would become, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly thankful their child still thrived despite the dangers she put all three of them through. Though she couldn’t explain exactly what she and the Doctor were to each other anymore, nor knew what the future held for them, she still felt an aspect of security with him by her side. The fear she had been carrying over the course of the last several weeks due to Quynn’s determination to find them had subsided for the moment. Glancing towards him, she noticed his eyes continued to observe her in her discomforted state with an intimidatingly hollow expression, his position in the chair unchanged. “Have you been sitting there the entire time?”
“Yes, well,” he began, attempting to keep his facetious nature to a minimum. “I thought I should be here in case you woke up and suddenly had the urge to crash the TARDIS into a nearby planet, or an orbiting asteroid for good measure. Now that you’ve taken charge over everything, there’s no telling what sort of new ideas you have forming inside that head of yours.” Though his words seemed cruel, the harshness in his tone of voice only masked how he truly felt inside. A part of him was still so very angry with her. She had betrayed him. She had betrayed his trust and their friendship by threatening to take away everything he loved most. But that would never stop him from loving her. He cared for her so deeply that betraying him would never have made a difference.
His concern for her and their well-being was the main reason he spent every waking moment by her side while she recovered from her injuries. He wanted to be there when the time came for her to finally regain consciousness so his familiar face would be the first thing she’d see. In the meantime, he managed to find other ways to pass the time while she slept. When he wasn’t worriedly pacing about the room deep in thought, he’d read to her aloud so she could hear his voice. After growing weary of that, he’d lay on the bed beside her and openly debate with himself in the hope she would awaken if only to tell him to shut up. When she never did, eventually even that became boring. And when he became consumed by the torment of loneliness, he would attempt to connect with the baby so at least she would feel comforted by his presence. Pressing a gentle hand against his companion’s middle, he’d speak softly to their child about the ways of the universe, becoming more amazed each time he felt his daughter push against her mother in reaction to his words. Although it was an experience he hadn’t much practise with, as all of his previous children had been loom-born, he found the sensation of movement in his palm quite fascinating. Having notoriously kept his distance from Clara throughout most of her pregnancy, it was almost surreal for him to feel the life flourishing inside of her. The rare moments of physical contact between them helped to remind him that a real person was growing within her. Though he knew Clara was perfectly safe where she was without him constantly there to care for her, there was nowhere he would rather be than by her side.
Clara leaned against the headboard and sighed. Though his words were painful, she knew she had caused a significant amount of damage to their relationship and the expectations shared between them. It was apparent he was more than angry with her. She could feel his despondence towards her seething from his position in the chair. His entire demeanour had changed. It would have been so much easier to be dead than face the regret she carried in her heart for having hurt him. After everything they had been through together, he was owed more than what she had done to him. “I was so sure I was doing the right thing,” she admitted as soft tears ran down her cheek. “How do you do it, Doctor? How do you know which risks you can take and which you can’t?”
“I don’t always,” he confessed. “The difference between you and me is that I’m just an idiot in a box with a screwdriver, just passing through, helping out, learning. There’s nothing special about me. I am nothing. Except, I’m less breakable than you. The choices I must make aren’t always easy. Sometimes all we have are bad choices but we still have to choose.” He sighed and finally took his leave of the chair. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he made his way towards the fireplace, becoming mesmerized by the flames while trying to find the words to say that would make her understand. “For as many stars that are born every day, just as many others will die. The universe is constantly changing. But you, Clara. There is only one of you in this universe. You are rarer to me than all the planets and stars in all the solar systems combined. Every time you and I get mixed up in something dangerous like this, I keep thinking, what if something were to happen to you? Every risk I have ever taken with you by my side, the single most important thing I must ask myself is, ‘Will Clara be safe? Will she be harmed?’ And if faced with the unfortunate decision of having to choose between saving an innocent life or the life of my friend and mother of my child, the answer will always be you.”
Though she appreciated his genuine care for her, she would never be able to live with herself knowing that an innocent person died for her. “I’d never ask you to choose my life over anyone else,” she replied.
“You shouldn’t have to ask.” He glanced towards her, his expression revealing the sincerity behind his words as he returned to her side and sat on the bed. As much as he wanted to embrace her, he couldn’t help but think of the pain he felt by witnessing her death. How close he came to making a decision he’d never be able to reverse. He felt weighed down by the concept of immorality, questioning whether or not he had done the right thing. The struggle to keep himself from thinking about the real cost of what he had done was a continuous battle between equally opposing ideals.
As for Clara, though she felt comforted by his closeness, she found herself somewhat conflicted over his constant desire to protect her. A part of her wondered if she would ever again be entrusted to make the right decision whenever the situation presented itself. She hoped whatever choice she was forced to make would have been for the benefit of them both. Between their momentary silence, her eyes began to survey the dimmed room around them, recalling she had never seen this unusual space before. “By the way, where are we? What is this place?” she changed the subject.
“My bedroom. At least I think this is my bedroom.”
“Seriously?” she responded with a bit of surprise, taking one last look around as if expecting something new to be discovered about him. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have one. In all the time I’ve spent searching for my own room, I’ve never come across this one before.”
“No one has. Even I can’t remember the last time I was in here.”
“Now I know I’m not the only one the TARDIS likes to hide things from.” She looked to him and braved a smile despite the pain coursing through her chest. As the room became quiet once more, she could sense his distracted gaze allowing his troubled thoughts to consume him. She delicately placed her hand in his in an attempt to return him to her. It wasn’t often they had a moment alone together just simply enjoying each other’s company. After spending so much time running and escaping near death, it was a rather nice change.
“Well,” he stated coldly, removing his hand from hers to rise from the bed. “You should get some rest. When you’re feeling up to it, I’ll be in the control room. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Then he simply exited the room leaving her alone in her silence.
********************
Making her way through the quiet halls and tight spaces of the labyrinth made of metal corridors, she finally found her way to the heart of the TARDIS. Even in her discomforted state, the ship never seemed to lose her sense of humour when it came to rearranging herself. As she entered the large room, she noticed the Doctor standing at the console, his back turned towards her. He was preoccupied with whatever task he decided needed his attention while she kept her distance from him. She cleared her throat to alert him of her presence in the room, but he did not turn to greet her. Taking a hesitant step towards him, she tried again to gain his acknowledgement. “You wanted to see me?” After a moment he finally responded with, “Yes.” He kept his back to her as he continued to tinker with a new gadget. “I trust you slept well. How are you feeling?”
“Well, for a girl who died and came back to life, I’d say I’m doing pretty well, don’t you think?” she stated almost brassily as if it were to be expected that she would always be standing there before him no matter what dangers they encountered together. As if her optimism in the situation was worth being recognized by him.
Her words halted him from his work. Setting the gadget down, he braced himself against the console and sighed. “Oh, Clara Oswald. What have I made of you?” His regrets of having stripped her of all she used to be back when she was so pure and innocent began to plague his mind. The more she learned from him through their travels the more like him she had become. It was both a proud yet terrifying feeling all at the same time. He had made a lasting impression on her, that much was certain. But to what extent? Would she one day wake up to realize she didn’t know who she was any longer, or simply never wake up at all? He regretted his negligence of having not paid more attention to the woman she was becoming. He relied so heavily on her cleverness and intuition to solve her predicaments that he forgot how human she was. He had never travelled with anyone like her before. No one had even come close to how similar their minds were. The pair of them were unstoppable. Whoever brought them together knew exactly what they were doing. And that frightened him.
“What I did was of my own choice. Please, don’t blame yourself for my mistakes,” she implored. The uncertainty she felt towards their current relationship caused the guilt inside of her to surface. Though she made many mistakes before, she knew she had crossed a line that should never have been crossed. She wondered how great her carelessness and disregard of the situation had ruined everything between them. If this time there would be no going back. That somehow their friendship would never be the same again.
“I almost lost you, Clara.” He finally turned around to face her, the pain and anger in his eyes connecting to hers.
“I know.” She tried to swallow her shame knowing he did not deserve her tears. “I can only imagine how scared and alone you must have felt after everything I put you through. I never meant to hurt you. If I could take it back, I would. I had no idea the amount of damage I would cause us.”
“No you wouldn’t, would you.” His temper began to rise as he glared at her. “If I had known how reckless you’ve become, I would have left you in your flat. Wasting away, moping over your dead boyfriend and feeling sorry for yourself.”
His words pierced through to her heart. His anger caused him to sound unloving and unkind towards her. Though she was prepared to receive whatever punishment he felt she deserved for her actions, the fact that he would so easily soil Danny’s memory with his cruelness was too much for her. “Why did you bring me then?”
“Why?” he nearly laughed. He asked himself how could he possibly make her understand what she meant to him if she couldn’t see the man standing right in front of her? “Because I’ve seen inside your mind, the terrible thoughts residing within you when the hour was at its darkest. Because I hoped there was still a chance I could bring the fire back into your heart before I lost you forever. Because I thought I could save you. But I was a fool to believe I could have done anything to stop you from harming yourself. I should have left you behind. At least you would have been safe. I could have just as easily handled this all on my own without you putting yourself in danger.” He took a moment to compose himself before his anger caused him to say something he’d never be able to take back. Once calm, his underlying heartbreak took hold of him. “You weren’t just risking your life, but the life you carry inside of you. A life that is very precious to me. As are you.”
She hung her head, feeling every bit of how cold the room had suddenly become since she first entered it. “I know. And I’m so sorry, Doctor. Truly I am.” She felt sick over how disappointed she was in herself by letting him down. If she had any hope of redeeming herself in his eyes, she would have to gain back his trust. Starting with the truth. Even if that truth was more painful to him than it was to expose her inner darkness. “I wanted it to end.” She felt her eyes connecting to his with deepened certainty. “Have you any idea how it feels to have something so evil and corrupt growing inside of you, feeding off of you as you nurture it into existence? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Every time I feel her movements inside of me I am haunted by the thought of being responsible for every life that has suffered, every person who has died because of her. I can’t help but see their blood on my hands. When I think about all the pain she has caused, I don’t see any part of us in her at all. How can you expect me to love something so cruel? She’s a monster.” She returned her gaze to the floor, her shameful tears falling through the grated metal she stood upon.
Approaching her, he sighed. Though she was right about him never experiencing a life growing inside of him, he was empathetic to how it must feel for her. He thought about the inner demons festering inside him. The constant struggle to keep himself from becoming just as evil was a necessary challenge he couldn’t afford to lose. But where Clara saw only corruption and malice in their daughter, he saw much of himself in her. Somewhere buried deep within her, he could see her conflict threatening everything she was raised to be. And where there was conflict, there was also hope. Peering towards his companion’s hanging head, he gently lifted her gaze and glanced sympathetically into her tearful eyes. “She doesn’t have to be.”
Clara was truly amazed by his ability to view even the most terrible of situations in a positive light when she could not. With as much as he had suffered throughout his long life, it was simply extraordinary he remained determined not to allow his many misfortunes to break him. She wanted so badly to believe him. She would give anything to share the love and compassion he displayed for their unborn baby. The way he marvelled at her growing form, protecting her from all that would cause her harm. Clara realized she needed him more than ever to show her how to love their daughter in return.
“There’s something I’d like to show you,” he requested, taking her hand in his.
She curiously raised her brow and allowed him to lead her around the console to the other side. In front of her was not what she would have expected as she gazed upon the recognizable shape of a newly constructed bassinet. She nearly gasped at its surprising beauty. It was everything she could have imagined one to be. Its entirety had been draped in ivory cloth. A mobile of stars and planets hung above it. She quickly turned to him. “Did you make this?”
“You know, it may come as a surprise to you, but there’s much more to me than just an idiot with a time machine. I do have other talents.”
“The TARDIS made it, didn’t she?” She casually rolled her eyes as a smile formed on her face.
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “There may have been a slight disagreement over the lack of round things, but yes.” He watched her approach its side and place her hands upon the rim, rocking it gently. Her smile continued to beam with tender appreciation. His hearts became full again as he observed her reaction to his gift, imagining how it would feel to tend to her while they looked upon their child resting inside of it. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, Doctor,” she answered, turning around to face him. “But why? We both know she won’t be ours for much longer.”
“Because I still have hope left inside of me. As long as I have hope, I will never give up. No matter what may happen, I want her to know love and kindness. That is my gift to her.”
His gesture warmed her from within. If she understood anything about him, she knew how much his willingness to fight for what was right had become one of the many reasons she found herself unable to resist her feelings for him. She remembered what he told her after changing into this body, making it clear to her that nothing would ever happen between them. Though over time, she realized he was only protecting himself from his weakness for her, she had not known how painful it would be to deny herself the ability to love him back. His recent confession had given him the courage to reveal the man he was beneath all his many layers of security. He had stripped away his armour and allowed her to see everything he had to offer. A commitment to her she would never be able to forget. Slowly approaching him, she tucked her hair behind her ear and thought about the answer to the question that had been captivating her mind since the moment he revealed his true feelings for her. “Is it true what you said back there in the armoury, about loving me?”
“Every word,” he whispered nervously as she came towards him, watching her every move.
She felt flushed with exhilaration as she strode closer. Her heart pounded in her chest. The lust and devotion she carried for him had broken free from the chains that bound them. “As often as you’ve denied it, there’s a part of me that has always known. Just as there has always been a part of me that feels the same way. No matter the face you wear, you have always had my heart. And you always will.” Observing his surprised reaction, she continued her steps towards him. “I may only have one go at life, but I would rather spend each day of my brief existence showing you all the ways I’m in love with you than live a thousand lives without you in it,” she admitted, unable to help the release she felt over finally confessing what had been eating her up inside. He remained speechless at her words, averting his eyes from hers as he struggled to process the information. “So, daft old man,” she spoke with a newly confident provocativeness about her. “What does that make us? A couple? Star-crossed lovers?”
As she drew closer, he felt the pace of his hearts begin to quicken. In his timidness, he found himself stepping back from her the nearer she came. “Uh, well,” he nervously cleared his throat. “I hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead.” He continued to back away from her. His apprehension of the situation caused his body to tremble, trying desperately to distract himself with humour. “I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself an expert. But when it comes to non-linear relationships, I’d say I’m two for two. That’s got to count for something.” He exhaled a gasp as his backside collided with the console. There was nowhere else for him to go. His hands gripped the edge of the machinery. The closer she came the more he could sense the pheromones in the air drawing her towards him. The unpredictability of the situation unfolding was enough to make him believe he was just as likely to be slapped by her as she was to wrap her arms around him. Either way, his nervousness caused a malfunction in his thoughts. His words inadvertently sputtered passed his lips as she finally reached him. “Maybe it would be best if we proceed by taking very small steps. Or we could start over entirely-”
His thoughts were discontinued as she placed her hands on either side of his face and embraced him with a passionate kiss. His hands raised from his sides as if touching her would have burned his skin. He was both startled and intensely aroused by her sudden affection. He wondered if he had somehow been pulled into his memory of their night on Prima Nova, that none of this was even real. It had been far too long since he last felt the embrace of the woman he loved. He wasn’t sure he had what it took to please her. A part of him feared he had nothing of value left to offer her inside of his furrowed old body. After what felt like a lifetime, she pulled herself from him and gazed into his eyes. In his shock over her actions, he wasn’t sure how to respond nor proceed. “Well, that was… unexpected.”
She smiled warmly as the feeling of ecstasy coursed through her veins. She spent so long drowning in darkness, she almost forgot what happiness felt like. Studying his reaction carefully, she traced her fingers down his chest and felt him shudder beneath her touch. “Was it pleasurable?”
He found her sudden seductive advances irresistible. Whatever insanity had taken hold of his mind, he wasn’t so sure he wanted it to end. “Well, perhaps once more couldn’t hurt just to be sure,” he replied as charming as he knew how to be. Deactivating all of his internal safeguards, he took her into his arms and returned his lips to hers. His hand secured itself upon her waist as the other gently grasped her neck and pulled her closer. He took in every bit of her intoxicating scent as if it were his final breath. He was so very careful with her as if she were made of glass. Each touch of her skin under his delicate fingers drove his senses into madness. He could feel her pulse rising beneath his thumb. Her breathing deepened the more she became consumed by his tender kiss. She tasted more divine than he could have ever imagined her to be. He felt every movement of her body against his, becoming one with each other as the passion between them intensified with each new embrace. A new sense of euphoria came over him, finding himself overwhelmed by his desire for her as his buried emotions forced their way out. The hand he placed on her waist found its way to her middle, caressing her swollen form in his palm as the evidence of their lust for each other pressed into him. After a moment, he felt a harsh thrust to his stomach from within her and grunted from the unexpected assault.
She laughed and leaned away to see his face. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, she can kick me all she wants. I probably deserve it,” he grinned, brushing his fingers over her cheek. He couldn’t describe in words how complete he felt in her arms. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, he felt adrift from reality every time they connected to his. He had waited so very long for this moment, often imagining how it would feel to have her in all the ways he only dreamt about once she was finally his. He wondered if this was where their relationship had been destined for all along or if it was just another effect of the Persuaders’ hold on them. Either way, there were far worse things they could have been forced to do.
“I never thanked you for saving me,” she professed, taking the moment to reveal her appreciation for all that he had ever done for her.
“Oh, Clara Oswald,” he smiled, holding her cheek in his hand. “It is you that has saved me, in more ways than you can even imagine.”
#12th doctor#doctor who#doctor who fanfiction#twelfth doctor#the doctor#dr who#dr who fan fiction#dr who fanfiction#twelve/clara#clara oswald#whouffaldi
0 notes