#sorry if a certain joke is too much but i know the target audience of this post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

existslikepristin · 3 years

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Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

#loona smut #kpop smut #choerry #male reader insert

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cherienymphe · 4 years

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None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

tags: @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @readermia @nickyl316h

#Dark Fic #Dark fics #dark!chris evans #chris evans x reader #dark chris evans #dark chris evans x reader

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

Text

And the aftermath of the first battle. Featuring more OFA talk!

[No. 34 - Victory or Defeat]

The cover art for this chapter is actually pretty gorgeous. Like, wow, that HAIR. It looks so damn soft I can’t even.

Getting into the chapter itself, we get just shy of a page of flashback to Shinsou’s middle school. Several students are talking about how cool Shinsou’s quirk is, how they’ve never heard of a quirk like it, how jealous they are. One student comments on how he could make all kinds of trouble with it, while another adds on that it’d be without getting his hands dirty. She then asks Shinsou not to go around controlling them.

Past Shinsou just laughs it off and notes how everyone says that, with his internal narrative thinking about how he’d also expect bad things from someone with his ability. That person would probably turn into a criminal - a villain, even. So he’s used to everyone implying that about him. That’s just how the world works.

Back in the present, we see Shinsou gritting his teeth, while Izuku is standing over him, a bit bloody and beaten, but still victorious. Present Mic again confirms Izuku is going to the second round. Up in the stands, Kaminari nudges Katsuki’s shoulder with his own, noting how Izuku had also gotten him with that shoulder toss. Katsuki looks a bit put out, I guess? Or just distracted. He calls Kaminari dunce face, which gets a fantastic face out of Kaminari.

Artwork.

There’s a bit here about Izuku using a baiting tactic that I’m not sure whether is from Katsuki or Aizawa, since Aizawa’s thought process continues in the next panel. In either case, I am certain it’s Aizawa noting how Izuku was concentrating his quirk in just his finger, like the strength test and the throw in battle training. Izuku’s been learning from those experiences - or rather, said experiences have forced him to adapt.

As Shinsou and Izuku bow (or at least Izuku does), Present Mic comments on how the event is off to an uneventful start, before encouraging the crowds to put their hands together for their fierce competitors. As the crowds do so, Izuku is thinking about Shinsou’s words, being ‘naturally blessed’ and ‘getting to follow his dreams.’ Eventually, Izuku asks why Shinsou wants to be a hero. Shinsou turns away to start leaving the platform while replying that ‘we don’t get to choose the things we naturally admire.’

Izuku vibes deeply with this, thinking about how those feelings are just like how Izuku was before he got One For All. But as he is now, what does he say to that?

Shinsou gets his own surprise, however, when his classmates start shouting their praises from the stands above the entryway. One says how awesome Shinsou had been out there, another on how he’d had them on the edge of their seats, a third on Shinsou being the shining star of the general studies guys, and a fourth on how he’d done just as well as the guy who’d gotten third in the obstacle course (Katsuki). Shinsou looks like he has no idea how to process this. And if that’s not enough, the heroes in the crowds are also talking about him and his quirk with no small amount of admiration.

...oh man, wait, do I spy Miss Joke there with the crowds?

Why, yes it is! I don’t know if her character was fully planned or background developed at this point, but I suppose Hori must have elevated hr to more than a one-off appearance at some point. Perhaps liked her relatively simple design?

But yeah, we shift back to Shinsou and the other gen ed students as the latter point it out, and repeat how awesome he is. Shinsou says nothing for a moment, hesitating at the entrance, before speaking to Izuku. UA will consider transfers to the hero course depending on the results here. Remember that. Maybe he failed here, but he’s not giving up. He’ll show UA he’s got what it takes to make the hero course, and he’ll become a greater hero than all of the other students.

Izuku accepts this driven challenge, only to get caught in Shinsou’s quirk again. Izuku’s confused, because the match is already over. Shinsou comments on how people who respond to him tend to stiffen up like that, and how it’d be easy to mess everything up for Izuku just now. But instead he just demands a promise as he lets Izuku loose from his quirk - don’t lose in a sorry way out there. Izuku agrees again, only to again be temporarily caught in Shinsou’s quirk.

Also, it's a teeny thing here, but I know there's been people (not necessarily in here, but in general) who've questioned how shinsou's quirk works, and from here in the sports festival, what I can at least determine is this:

-his quirk can affect multiple people at once

-people don't remember what they were doing under the quirk's effect (barring Izuku for Reasons)

-his quirk takes effect when he chooses after someone responds verbally to him (sign language or writing don't work)

-it can be a statement or question someone responds to!

-general non-word noises, or non-directed sounds (ie izuku's growls of exertion) don't work as targets for shinsou's quirk

Anywho, with that, we transfer over to Recovery Girl’s temporary office, where Izuku is getting himself healed up while Toshinori hovers nearby nervously. Izuku admits that he couldn’t smile at all, and Toshinori considers that and figures this must have been a tough battle for him, given what Shinsou was saying. Izuku replies that that doesn’t make it okay for him to lose; when you’re aiming for the top, that’s just how it is, right?

Recovery Girl is not impressed with the ‘life lessons’ Toshinori is passing on to Izuku, spinning around to wallop Toshinori on his non-injury side. Toshinori tries to reply that it’s all necessary, only to be interrupted by said wallop and yelp in pain. While Toshinori is nursing his poor abused ribs, Izuku brings up the vision he had.

He saw eight or nine shadows - not sure on that - when his mind was lulled from the brainwashing, the vision appeared and snapped him out of it. In that instant, he was just barely able to move his fingertip. One of them had Toshinori’s hairstyle… so could it have been the souls of the people who have inherited One For All?

Now, a few things I have to say to this:

First off, holy SHIT did Izuku already pretty much hit the nail on the head for what’s happening here. We obviously don’t really get more about this for, what, a hundred and fifty or so chapters? I dunno when the JTA is in the manga exactly, so I’m probably off, but even before then, there’s only a few hints here and there about the whole ‘ghost’ thing happening - and yet, Izuku already is kinda sus of what’s happening after just one vision.

Secondly, while it’s way more likely that it’s Izuku being scared and confused that has him questioning the number of shadows he saw there, I also really love how it’s a perfect set-up for something Fishy if Hori so wants, while also allowing an out if he doesn’t want. It’s like, does the number mean something, or is it just a scared schoolkid struggling to remember details he only glimpsed for a moment?

In any case, we move on to Toshinori’s response to this strange vision. Mostly in that he finds it kinda scary. Izuku is confused, because he was sure Toshinori would know. Toshinori admits that he did see them once when he was young, and that it’s a clear sign Izuku is getting used to One For All.

At Izuku’s visible confusion, Toshinori continues - the shadows are traces of the quirk’s past bearers. But whatever they are, they can’t directly interfere or influence Izuku. Nor can Izuku affect them. In other words, that vision wasn’t what undid the brainwashing. Rather, it was Izuku’s protagonist powers strong will that allowed him to see those faces - and as far as Shinsou’s brainwashing, Izuku overcame it! Just for an instant! He managed to move that fingertip all on his own.

Izuku isn’t convinced, but Toshinori chastises him, telling him not to dwell on it, and shouldn’t he be worrying about his next opponent instead? Izuku agrees, and thanks both him and Recovery Girl before heading out. Only once Izuku is gone does Recovery Girl note that Toshinori’s shadow had been there too. Toshinori replies how that’s not a bad thing.

My take on this whole scene?

But yeah, it definitely is interesting how early Hori outright told us what was happening with One For All, only for it to be dismissed by Toshinori and a good chunk of the audience. I mean, I don’t know if Hori was planning everything with the vestiges and the other quirks at this point, but he sure laid the groundwork here, and I kind of love it.

Anywho, moving on from that, we shift over to Shouto making his way towards the arena for his own fight, only to run into the last person he wants to see - Endeavor. Shouto tells Endeavor to get out of his way, but Endeavor ignores him, instead calling Shouto a disgrace to him. He harps on about how Shouto could have crushed the obstacle course and the cavalry battle if he’d used his left side. Shouto says nothing as he marches himself past his father.

Endeavor tells Shouto to grow up, and stop rebelling like some petulant child. His duty is to surpass All Might. He’s different from his siblings - Endeavor’s greatest creation! Shouto asks if that’s all Endeavor has to say, then states how he’ll win this with his mom’s power alone. He’ll never use Endeavor’s power in battle. Endeavor states how that might be good enough while he’s a schoolkid, but he’ll reach his limit soon enough.

Shouto is… not in a good headspace. As we’ll see momentarily.

Izuku joins Ochako and Tenya in the stands while Present Mic starts to announce the participants of the next match. Sero Hanta, the cream of the crop, and yet somehow still as plain as they come! Versus Todoroki Shouto, the best of the best, strongest of the strong!

The match starts as Sero finishes stretching himself out, stating how he doesn’t really feel much like winning. His arms then snap forward, the tape rushing out to wrap around Shouto. Sero tugs back, yoinking Shouto into position to be swung out of the arena. Present Mic hypes up the surprise attack maneuver, and how it’s probably the best strategy for him, overall complementing how Sero’s giving it his all. Shouto, still somewhat mad-eyed, apologizes, and then-

...yikes. How Sero (or any audience members in the way) didn’t die here is a show of Shouto’s astounding control here, even if it doesn’t seem like it. The entire stadium is dead silent as Sero calls the move a bit overkill. Midnight, half-frozen as well, tentatively asks Sero if he can move. Sero asks if she’s kidding, before the frostbite starts getting to him and he starts biting back pained hisses. Midnight announces Sero’s loss, and the crowds are… pretty sympathetic, calling out good tries to him.

Shouto steps forward to start defrosting Sero, apologizing for overdoing it, stating that he’d just been annoyed. Up in the stands, Izuku watches on, with his future narration noting that, lost amid the cheers that arose from the audience, he saw Shouto defrost his own frozen self with his left hand. And to Izuku… something about Shouto seemed really sad.

Shouto is announced to be moving on to the second round, and the chapter closes.

Holy shit. This chapter is actually really something, and not just because of One For All. But still, it really is fascinating to see what groundwork laid early on in the series ended up being used way down the line by Hori as he got more comfortable with the direction he wanted his story to go in.

Anywho, see you next time for the last chapter of volume four! Which means the next bonus material post is upcoming. And I can just say there’s some interesting stuff in that as well…

#chapter 34 #sports festival arc #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #shinsou hitoshi #recovery girl #yagi toshinori #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #Sero Hanta #izuku: so i think our quirk is haunted #toshinori: nah you're just the main character #izuku: bet #(150 chapters later)#izuku: quirk's haunted bitch!#toshinori: :|

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suspiciouslypinkrosegarden · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Unknown (Saeran Choi) X Female Reader CRACK FIC

Description: You are a humble teenage bookworm, obsessed with the performer Lady Gaga and her catchy music. Or perhaps, it’s not her you’re obsessed with, but her back up dancer, Saeran. When your bestie Sasha offers you the chance to watch a performance front row, a chance encounter happens. Can you successfully woo this ̶s̶e̶x̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ handsome dancer? Or will your attempt to dress up lead to nothing at all.

This is in NO way shape or form to be taken seriously. It is supposed to be a funny parody of many Wattpad stories we may have read way back when. It is not targeting any one author and is entirely based on stereotypes and jokes made about old experiences.

Little warning: Some of the jokes made could be said to be 18+, but nothing is too over the top. The reader is described to be blond with blue eyes, etc., just following Wattpad stereotypes. All descriptions of the reader are for comedic purposes as well as the “authors notes”. The elixir is brought up at the end.

This fic contains and is based on a sketch done by my friend 🤎Melkinpump🤎, who you can find on tumblr here: https://melkinpump.tumblr.com/

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https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ song from chapter 2!!!

CHAPTER ONE-

I woke up to see my beautiful turquoise bedroom shining in the sun. It was finally time, today I was going to a Lady Gaga concert. My gaze drifted to the Lady Gaga poster on my wall. But here’s the plot twist. I wasn’t in love with her, but him. The man in the back of the poster, Saeran, one of her favorite back up dancers. He was in all of her shows, and today I just had to seduce him best I could, which would be hard because I was such a nerd. I stared lovingly at his face behind hers, tongue sticking out with a blue color to it from the koolaid he had in his hand. It was pretty rock and roll epic. I sighed. Time to get dressed.

I followed the advice of my friend Sasha, and wore one of her tight black leather dresses. I’m not used to tight clothes, but she’s a seduction master with 10 boyfriends right now, so I’m listening. It hugged my 1 inch waist so tight I couldn’t breathe, and the cleavage showed almost my whole natural DD rack, but I guess it looks hot. This felt weird, so not like me who usually wears big sweaters and big jeans. Of course, I still need to wear my glasses or I can’t see shit. I took down my long, straight platinum blond hair out of my pony tail and brushed it. Lastly, I brushed my teeth incase we do make out.

Sasha arrived in her Jaguar car. She’s super rich unlike me. She yelled at me,

“Why aren’t you wearing makeup? Come here let’s fix you up!”

She put on a lot of my makeup for me, thick black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. I put back on my glasses when she was finished, and she smacked my hand.

“No! Guys don’t like girls who wear glasses, show off those pretty blue eyes!”

I sighed as now I’d be blind for the concert. But it’s ok, it’s all to win his heart. The devil with the white hair and man whore outfit he always wore. It was Lady Gaga’s thing to make him dress like that, I didn’t mind because he’s incredibly sexy in it.

I tried not to let my mind wander too much as Sasha drove us to the concert. I could not be nervous, and I definitely couldn’t allow him to see that I was actually just a little nerd girl. Tonight, I’m a sex kitten just for him. Sasha made sure of that.

END CHAPTER 1

HEY guys I hope you enjoyed chapter one :) chapter two is just down below and maybe you’ll finally get to kiss Saeran idk it’s not like I’m the author ;))

CHAPTER 2-

The concert began. And there he was, dancing so close to me as we had front row seats which Sasha’s rich dad paid for. I’m so lucky to have a rich bestie.

He rocked his hips to the beat, that pink leotard type outfit barely covering much. I could see his beautiful pecs through the heart in the center, shiny from his glistening sweat. Unless Lady Gaga told him to shine up with something, I wouldn’t put it past her.

@melkinpump

After a few minutes, my heart stopped beating. He noticed me! His aqua orbs met mine in the crowd, gazing into my soul with such a fiery passion as he danced, white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. My friend nudged me, smiling. I couldn’t believe it. I smiled at him, and started singing the words to the song playing to pretend I was unphased.

And then, it happened. He kneeled down next to me, chains from his outfit clinking a little, leaning in with his hand cupping his ear to hear my voice. He then spoke, the tone surprising me as his voice was rather airy.

“I can’t hear you!”

I sang louder.

“You can be louder than that!”

He smirked at me teasingly. My heart was leaping sky high as I got even louder for him. I’d do anything for him.

Just then, he passed me his hand, offering to take me up on stage with him. I hesitantly took it, feeling its heat in mine as he pulled me up on stage next to him. It felt unreal!

“YOU GO GIRL WOOOOH!”, Sasha screamed.

Lady Gaga stopped then cued the next song as Saeran passed me a mic. The music started playing and I could feel my heart in my throat. I couldn’t let him know this confidence was all a fake to win him as I’m usually just a bookworm. I sang best I could, the song was a classic, “Poker Face” by Lady Gaga (link at the top). To my surprise, Saeran also took a mic. It was just the two of us singing, and the audience was in awe because it sounded so good. I didn’t even know I could sing because I never have before, but now I understand I have a hidden talent, and I feel more confident.

As the song wrapped up, he smiled at me and handed me a VIP backstage pass! I thanked him profusely as I got down from the stage, eliciting a wink. I can’t believe I’m going to get to see him backstage!

CHAPTER 3-

Hey guys :/ adult content warning !

Skip ahead to the end of the awesome concert and me and Sasha were heading backstage with my shiny, black VIP pass. It had a mint eye symbol on it which looked bitchin. The guard stopped Sasha from entering,

“Sorry, only that one is allowed by Mr. Saeran.”

Mr. Saeran? Now that’s hot. But I’m also sad because I want to take Sasha too because without her, I wouldn’t even be at this concert! Sasha winked at me,

“It’s ok girl, go live your dream. My dad’s rich so one of my boyfriends is Justin Beiber so I don’t need this anyways.”

“Thanks bestie.” I smiled at her, preparing myself to go meet Saeran and Lady Gaga alone.

I took in a deep breath, my exposed chest nice and puffed out to attract his attention because I know guys like boobs. Sasha told me that, I don’t know much about guys because I’m a nerd. But hopefully now I’d be his nerd.

The security guard led me to the back of the hall, opening the big door, revealing Saeran and Lady Gaga, standing and talking. I was in shock! They were both so hot in person! I am so lucky!

Their heads turned in my direction, Saeran hungrily licking his lips upon seeing me. I couldn’t get any redder!

Just then, Lady Gaga handed me some blue koolaid and told me to take a seat with a sweet smile. I smiled back and sat like she said. Lady Gaga spoke,

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you! You really grabbed my dancer’s attention here as well as mine and the crowds, and I instructed him to pick one lucky girl to meet with today. And here you are! With a singing voice like that, I want to know if you want to join us on tour!”

With that, I’m certain I stopped breathing. To work alongside Saeran AND Lady Gaga?! Incredible! I didn’t mind leaving my old life behind to be sexy and cool always like I was tonight, because at home I was nothing but a 16 year old boring book worm. I’d be happy to never see high school again, but I’d miss Sasha.

“Yes!” I squeaked happily.

“Good girl~” Saeran cooed. I wasn’t expecting him to call me that, and I blushed red to my ears.

“First, let’s finish that drink with a toast to you joining us!” Lady Gaga cheered.

“Ok! Cheers to our new pet here!”, Saeran said raising a glass too.

It’s weird that he called me pet, personally I think a little ominous. But it’s ok, he can call me as he likes.

As I tasted the koolaid, it was super bitter and burned my throat. Saeran and Lady Gaga smiled at me, and I smiled back, forcing myself to chug it as they watched eagerly. I then felt super dizzy and sick…what was this koolaid? As the room started spinning, I reached a hand to my head and winced. Saeran sat next to me and guided me to lean on him. Even though I felt odd, leaning on him still made my heart race.

He stroked my hair, whispering “good girl” once more. This was getting freaky. Did they drug me?

Before I could open my mouth to speak, Lady Gaga took off her crazy wig. I saw long blond curls fall down as she removed her wig cap. Within another second, she popped out colored contacts, revealing orbs as green as emeralds. That wasn’t Lady Gaga at all! It was a fraud! I gasped, but Saeran held me closer, telling me to remain quiet.

“Just as you’re thinking child, this isn’t a Lady Gaga concert at all, but a recruitment for our cult! I killed Lady Gaga long ago, and took her place. Saeran here is in charge of choosing one lucky person each show to join us, and with your voice you’ll make a great performer alongside us here at the Mint Eye!”

I was so angry and confused. What did she mean she killed Lady Gaga? And a cult? No way…

Saeran spoke to me again, “don’t worry little blondy, I chose you because you’ll be a great assistant for me with that voice. We have a lot of work to do, and lucky for you, since I can tell you like me, you get to work alongside me~”. He cackled and then crushed my phone with his bare hands.

I was horrified. I spoke softly, still feeling weird.

“Saeran…I thought you were a good person…I know you are…I love you…”

He seemed moved in those minty eyes, but wouldn’t tell it. His eyes were a tad watery as he scooped me up into his arms and cradled me close to his chest. My head rested on the open heart in his costume.

“I know, and that’s exactly why I chose you. I’ve been watching you for a long time, y/n. You look different without your glasses. But don’t worry, we have contacts for on stage.”

And with that he carried me to his room, and I prepared for my new life as a cultist.

END!!!!

A/N: Hey everyone thanks for reading <3 I wonder what Saeran and y/n are going to do in his room next 😳😜😎🍋!!?!! If I get 3 comments, I’ll write the next part :3 which will be rated 18+ though!!! I think you know why ;)))) !!! Pray for me 🙏 because I just broke my pelvis and I’m so sorry that 18+ part will be a little late because of it but I’ll write it in the hospital! Safe wishes 💋! Thanks for all the support!!!!

Fin! *takes a bow*

#saeran choi #unknown saeran #ray mystic messenger #saeran x mc #saeran x reader #unknown mystic messenger

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kitkats-mikrokosmos · 4 years

Text

you who led me through that maze, you are my light - chapter 1: such stuff as dreams are made

crossposted on ao3

genre: fluff, slowish burn, romance pairing: ot7 x reader summary: ❝ this rain, too, is coming to an end i won’t let go of your hand anymore i wish that you would love me ❞

(or the one in which bighit holds a raffle for army to spend 4 months with bts in a remote lakehouse, and you win)

word count: 1390 warnings: cursing

see author notes at the end

Words could not begin to describe the cocktail of emotions that shot straight through your veins as you stared down at your phone.

"Dear (L/N) (F/N), Congratulations! You've won the raffle! Please contact us by January 31st, 2021 to claim your prize. We look forward to hearing from you. -BigHit Entertainment"

This had to be a joke, right? There was no way that this was real. Spam or a cruel joke from your family or maybe this was a dream.

You reached over and pinched your forearm. Hard.

The only thing that resulted was an explosion of stinging pain across your nerves and involuntary tears springing to your eyes.

So this wasn't a dream. But that still left spam or a joke.

It was totally in character for either of your brothers to pull something like this. But you didn't know if they knew how to spoof an email address, and, as you peered at the screen, you realized that address looked very official.

Quickly, you opened an incognito browser and did a Google search for BigHit's email address (addresses?). There was no guarantee of credibility, but still, it was better than operating under the assumption of goodwill. That was the sort of thing that got you hacked and all of your data sold on the dark web, and that was something you'd rather avoid. Once you'd found emails that looked like they might be correct, you opened the email again to compare them. The result had your heart hammering in your chest and your pulse fluttering in your throat like hummingbird wings.

They were almost identical.

This was probably the real deal.

You leaned back in your chair, a bark of disbelieving laughter leaving your lips.

Well shit.

You had some plans to make, you guess.

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

"Dear (L/N) (F/N), We discussed what you mentioned in your last email, and, in the effort of making you more comfortable, we thought that we might send the boys out one at a time to join you in the as-of-yet undisclosed location. You would have a week to get to know each other individually before another member would join you both. Is this sufficient? -BigHit Entertainment"

"Dear BigHit Entertainment, That sounds great! Thank you so much for being so understanding. I really appreciate it. -(F/N) (L/N)"

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

"Your plane will leave tomorrow at 6:00 AM. Sorry, but that ended up being the most convenient time."

"It's fine, I understand," you said, smiling even though you wanted to cry at the thought of waking up at 4 in the morning so that you could make the plane ride. You'd have to make an emergency order from Target for a couple of those Starbucks frappucinos. You absently scrawled a reminder to yourself down onto a sticky note that you stuck to your corkboard, phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear.

Oh, how you missed the days when you could just drive to the store down the road and pick up whatever junk food you happened to be craving at the moment.

Still, life goes on.

"All precautions will be taken, of course. Still, when you arrive in Seoul, you'll be required to quarantine for two weeks. I know you've already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check one more time: you are okay with this, correct?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

You'd expected it, in fact. They couldn't have known for certain that the ARMY that won the raffle would be from Korea, and there were all sorts of travel restrictions, worsened by winter - that they could fly you in at all was nothing short of a miracle. Quarantine seemed obvious.

You'd rather not spend time holed up in some hotel or someplace for fourteen days, waiting to see if you'll start displaying symptoms, but you'd also rather not get other people sick by accident - especially not the boys. The only way those two things could coincide was if the pandemic was over, and, unfortunately, things weren't there yet. You were still praying for a vaccine, but in the meantime.

"All right, I believe that's everything. We look forward to meeting you, (L/N)-ssi."

"I look forward to meeting you, too. Thank you. I really appreciate this opportunity."

It sounded like the person on the other end was smiling when they replied, "Of course. Have a good day."

"You, too."

"Bye."

You hung up and turned in your chair. Your suitcases were packed and waiting by the front door, and butterflies swooped in your stomach. In less than 24 hours, you'd be hopping on a plane to Korea, and in a little more than 2 weeks, you'd be meeting BTS.

Already, you were nervous. You couldn't imagine how much of a wreck you'd become as the day approached. Still, that was something for future-you to deal with. Present-you had enough on your plate.

First order of business: ordering coffee.

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

You blinked blearily up at the airport.

Where to now? you wondered as you stepped through the automatic doors. Multiple signs blinked at you to please wear a mask, and you adjusted yours a little, fixing it on the bridge of your nose. You glanced around. There weren't any obvious directions or anything.

"Uh, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

You turned.

A woman in a pressed blue uniform and a matching mask stood there. She stopped the mandatory six feet away, and, judging from the crinkles of her eyes, she was smiling at you.

"That's me," you said, reshouldering your carry-on bag.

"Excellent!" she chirped, in true customer service fashion.

You felt bad for her, having to be this upbeat at ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe she could recommend you her coffee brand. Or maybe she was just fueled by spite like you'd been when you worked at the coffee shop downtown. Opening was always a fucking nightmare.

"Please follow me." She gestured onwards, then began walking.

You trailed behind.

"I'll take you to security," she continued as she walked, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "You'll be flying on a private plane today. Whoever's flying you out must really want to be sure you're safe." She paused. "And have a lot of money." She gave a tottering laugh.

You probably would've found the joke funnier if you were actually awake, but alas. You'd had two of your three coffees already, but there was only so much caffeine could do when it was up against the existential nightmare of an early morning.

Luckily, she didn't seem particularly daunted by her less-than-enthusiastic audience. Instead, she kept chattering on - about what, you weren't sure; you were having an incredibly hard time focusing your foggy brain to focus on anything for longer than 0.2 seconds.

You were flying to Korea. Jesus Christ. The reality was finally sinking in - as much as it could, given your current state. What country had you saved in a past life to be this lucky?

You likewise went through security in a daze, still reeling. You were only slightly more coherent when you were boarding the plane.

The flight attendant gave you a sympathetic smile and advised that you try to get some sleep - it was going to be a long flight.

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

14 hours later, give or take, the plane had touched down in Seoul. You disembarked and were immediately swept away, rushed through customs before being deposited into the care of BigHit employees. One notable employee being Kim Hyun-Woo, whom had been the one you communicated with primarily as this whole thing was being set up.

He greeted you with a wide grin. "It's so great to finally be able to meet you in person, (L/N)-ssi."

You tried to return his smile as best you could. "You as well." You yawned. "Sorry, that was a really long flight."

"I understand." He nodded and gestured to the car. "If you'll climb inside, we'll take you to the hotel you'll be staying at for the duration of your quarantine."

You did so, and you were soon on your way.

You watched Seoul's cityscape slide by, the brilliant lights offset by the dark of the night, and you wondered why it was that you felt like your life was about to change. Forever.

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

Short first chapter I know, but the next chapter will be longer - and juicier. You’ll be joined by the first member next chapter, so be sure to vote to decide who that’ll be.

#bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #interactive fanfiction

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firesign23 · 5 years

Text

Hot in Herre

So, I made a joke about how it’s insane how we’ve never had someone use Hot in Herre in a modern AU given Jaime’s... intense sauveness.

And then people egged it on ( @kiraziwrites @agirlnamedkeith and @pretty--thief can all bear some responsibility) and I was just migraine-hungover enough to listen. What was meant to be a silly little thing that involved an homage ot Canadian content laws and Brienne knowing The Thong Song ended up being... worse. So much worse. But god I’m laughing at myself, so...

Just under a thousand words of nonsense below the cut. I’m so sorry.

The worst part of hitting his mid-30s is that Jaime seems to have multiple weddings a month to attend, none of them enjoyable. He’s got some hope for tonight’s, if only because it’s Addam and the suitably terrifying northern woman he’s marrying means that Brienne has made the trek south to attend as well, but the first half of the reception is the elegant but family-friendly affair that Jaime can smell his father’s influence all over. He’d warned his cousin that dangers of holding an event at Casterly Rock, but Addam had been going on about warriors and knights and whatever-the-fuck it was his new wife was so into on that front. (Dacey? Darcy? He’s only met her a handful of times, his attempts at befriending the woman soundly rebuffed with mutters about Lannisters; pointed comments that Addam’s mother had been a Lannister too had done nothing to endear him to her. He was frankly surprised he’d still managed to be best man.)

But then the kids and older generation had retired--aside from Olenna Tyrell, who would probably outlast every other guest--and… well, it was remarkable how quickly Casterly’s Grand Ballroom had morphed into a nightclub circa fifteen years ago. The lights, the music, the frankly horrific grinding that passes as dancing. The really terrible alcohol. All of which is weirdly delightful, except there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in that time and it’s frankly pathetic to admit that he’s been pining after the same woman since his first year of university, especially when their work keeps them on opposite ends of the continent for years at a time.

Even more especially when she’s never shown a damn glimmer of interest in him in all those years.

But he’s been drinking and she’s been beside him all night and they’ve affectionately bickered their way through updates in their lives--she’s still single and he cannot fathom why, especially living in the north when the men seem to have a healthy appreciation for women who could crush them, but he’s just selfish enough that he can’t lament the fact--and, well…

Hot in… so hot in here... so hot in...

“Brienne!” he shouts as he turns to her, his voice a little louder than he intends, but that’s what enthusiasm does to him. “Come dance with me!”

She looks horrified, and so he pulls out the secret trump card he’s held on to for years.

“You danced with Renly.”

Alright, so it wasn’t meant to sound quite so petulant, but it works. Not the way he intends it to work, true, but she crosses her arms and scowls.

“I don’t know the song.”

In the background, Nelly’s broken into lyrics about bodacious asses, and Jaime just cannot believe that anyone, not even proper and quiet Brienne Tarth, could have escaped that particular song. It was everywhere. For years. If they were making a soundtrack of the era and left it off, its target audience would riot.

“Bullshit.”

She shrugs, not blinking as she meets his eyes.

“Tarthian Content Laws,” she says. “Stations had to play at least 40% Tarth content. We had one radio station, which prided itself on doubling the government standards, and an hour long music show once a week on the local channel that was hosted by Gal the Shoe. You’d be shocked how little I know.”

“But it was… You went to KLU!”

“If I wasn’t in class or on the rink, I spent 90% of my free time in the library or the gym.”

Which… fair. Both her grades and her body would attest to that. He does a weird little shimmy-thing that he wouldn’t admit to under any other circumstance, and extends a hand.

“It’s easy. Just follow my lead.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You don’t dance? Or you don’t dance with me?”

She flinches, and however quickly she masks it, he thinks he might have hurt her. Not his intention. He drops his hand, and turns back to watch the dancing. Addam and Dacey/Darcy are dead centre and have clearly replaced the bedding ceremony of old with being two seconds away from fucking on the dance floor. More than he ever wanted to see of his cousin or his terrifying warrior-wife.

“So what music did you have?” he asks, not daring to look at Brienne. It’s fine. He can talk and lick his wounds without being too much of an asshole. Mostly.

“Quarterchange. Mai Lejardin. Selyse Dion.” Jaime grimaces, and Brienne laughs. “There were better options, but they never managed to get quite so popular off the island.”

“So if one of them came on…”

“I’m not dancing, Jaime. Drop it.”

The song is almost over, and with the fearless idiocy that’s defined his life, he leans up so his mouth is at her ear.

“No dancing then,” he concedes. “But it really is hot in here. If you want to...”

Whatever the fuck he’s expecting out of this stunt, it’s not the way she turns on him.

“I don’t do drunken hookups, Lannister.”

She hasn’t called him Lannister since that first year. It had been annoying at the time, but now it’s just another thing that makes him want her.

“Neither do I,” he says, tilting his chin a little in challenge. Misinterpret that, Tarth, he hopes it says. He underestimates her willingness to be obtuse.

“Then why--”

He kisses her silent, suddenly certain it’s the only thing that she will understand. And it’s so much better than he’d imagined, awkward and strong and then she’s taking the lead and his hand is in her hair and--

She pulls away. Cocks her head, as if to listen to the new song that’s just begun. Groans.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says. “I’m pretty sure that’s The Thong Song. Not even content laws could save us from that one.”

#jesus fuck I don't even want to tag this nonsense #but I suspect there will come a day I want to find this again #my fanfic #hot in herre #also I did not edit this #WHICH PHYSICALLY PAINS ME #but if I tried to edit it I'd realise why it was a bad idea #and send it to the folder of shame with the kink fic and the first time fic #ANYWAY please someone take the comedic potential of this and do it justice

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simmonsofshield · 4 years

Text

Broken, Mended Chapter 4

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After breaking off an engagement, Y/N may have possibly hit rock bottom. But she doesn’t have time to think about it because she gets deployed to Iraq. Leaving their daughter with her friend, Sam Wilson, she’s gone for a year. She doesn’t like talking about her ex-fiance and is unsure if she’ll ever be able to love again. What happens a certain Captain is his literal doppelganger?

Words: 1300+

Warnings: Lots of swears in this one, sorry. Feelings of anger, betrayal. Drama. But also feels.

A/N: Normalize 👏 Platonic 👏 M/F 👏 Love 👏 (in case you can’t tell by this point, Y/N and Sam are very close. If you’re a Grey’s fan, I picture it very much like Mer and Alex. Two people who could never picture themselves in a relationship but would die for each other.) (omg i’m booboo the fool. another great example would be nat and clint?) This is for @ussgallifreyfics 550 follower writing challenge! Takes place during Civil War.

tag list is open

Y/N doesn’t know how long she’s out, but when she wakes up she can tell she’s in a completely different place. She’s not laying on the ground, but whatever she’s on is not comfortable in the least. As she stirs awake, she can also tell she no longer has her wings on, nor any of her pistols. Freaking out, she sits up quickly, groaning as her head still hurts. Still disoriented, she doesn’t see the person jog past her, but she hears them. “Your girl’s awake too, Sam.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Not my girl, Cap.”

When she hears his voice, she lets out a deep exhale and slowly leans herself against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Now a little more with her bearings, she can tell she’s simply laying on a piece of plywood over a couple wooden pallets. She doesn’t open her eyes but can tell Sam’s next to her now. She sarcastically smiles, eyes still closed, “Were you just going to keep this from me Sam? Didn’t think I was going to find out?”

He sighs, “Not this way at least. I’d rather it be in DC. What are you doing here anyways? I thought you were only supposed to be in Vienna.”

Y/N finally opens her eyes and looks at him, “You’re not deflecting away from this Sam. You never told me why you retired and now you're basically back in action and you weren’t going to tell me? How long Sam?”

He looks down in defeat, “Two years.”

“What?! T-two years? Sam, what the hell? So you were already doing stuff while I was gone? What the hell did you do with Ro?”

He smiles as best he can and waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, she was fine. Pepper’s great.”

“Pepper? As in Stark? You just casually left my child with not only a CEO of a company, who I’m sure is busy in her own right, but a stranger without consulting me first? Oh my god.” She puts her head in her hands and just sits like that for while. When a hand touches her arm, she so badly wants to pull it away but can’t for some reason. She blames the whole being knocked out thing and just exhaustion - physical and mental - at this point.

“Y/N?”

Finally bringing her head up, she looks up to see she now has an audience. James and Steve, who she has pieced together is also Captain America by Sam calling him ‘Cap.’ Her vision is cloudy - she hadn’t even realized she was crying. Wiping the tears away and clearing up her vision, she’s pretty sure she almost has a heart attack. She backs herself into the wall as much as she can, which isn’t very much since she was already sitting up against it. In front of her is Ransom. That’s why he was so familiar back in the holding location. Her breath quickens and she looks over at Sam, confusion and a sliver of fear in his eyes.

“Y/N?”

“Holy shit.” She stands up and goes to the end of her ‘bed,’ where her wings and weapons are located. She throws on the wings and fumbles with the guns as she runs out of the warehouse. She can hear all three of them following her, but she doesn’t stop, until she gets to the end of the wharf. She collapses, dropping her guns, and just sits there on her hands and knees, crying. When she hears only a single set of footsteps walk towards her, she knows it’s Sam.

He crouches down, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Y/N are you okay? What was that?”

“What was that?” she basically yells back, anger still seething. She brings her voice down before continuing, “Sam, didn’t you realize that Steve, Captain America, fuck...looks almost exactly like Ransom? What the hell?”

He looks over at Steve and back down at his friend, “Well now that you mention it...”

“Sam, this is no time to make jokes. I’m pretty sure what I’m experiencing here is a panic attack, or something, I don’t know. Fuck!” She hits her fist on the concrete. “What is happening? This is a sick, twisted game of fate the universe is playing that I didn’t ask for.”

She resituates herself so she’s sitting on her butt beside Sam. Taking a few breaths to calm down, she continues, “I guess now is as good a time as ever.” she wipes her face, trying to give herself a little bit of dignity back. “I trust you but I have to say this for my own sanity. You can not tell this to anyone. Especially your bff Cap over there.” she points over to Steve.

Sam nods, “Of course.”

“Okay,” she takes one last breath before starting, “the reason I broke off the engagement was because Ransom killed Harlan, his grandfather.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. And he tried to peg it on Marta, Harlan’s nurse. It was a whole thing. So I left him and fled Boston for you.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

All she does is nod in response, unable to speak at the moment. The exhaustion is really hitting her now.

“Riley died.”

She turns to him, “What?” He’s not looking at her, just straight out at the water.

“Why I retired. I went on a mission with Riley in Afghanistan. RPGs were flying everywhere, but we infiltrated the target’s hideout. He got hit by one and I couldn’t save him. There was nothing I could do.”

She scoots a little closer and puts her arm around him, “I’m sorry. I remember you two were close.” He nods and also puts an arm around her. She leans her head on his shoulder and they sit like that for a couple minutes, in comfortable silence.

Someone clears their throat. “Sam.” They both look over to see the other two men closer to them now. She makes a split second of eye contact with Steve before immediately looking away and over at James. He seems to be James at the moment, not the Winter Soldier. He can’t seem to look at her, probably out of regret of what he’s done in just the past couple hours.

“You good?” Sam looks at Y/N as he begins to get up.

“Yeah.”

He stands up completely and puts his hand out to help her up. She takes it and stands as well, a little wobbly at first but she steadies herself and watches as Steve takes him aside and chats. Probably about James and what to do with him now that they’re basically running from the law.

Y/N takes the moment to bring her hand to her ear, hoping the com still works despite her being tossed like a ragdoll. “Carter, Fury. Anyone on coms?”

A female voice responds, “Yeah. What happened? We lost track of you.”

“Long story. I got thrown into a wall. Probably compromised the tracker somehow. I’m surprised the earpiece even works. Where are you?”

“Still where we were holding Barnes. Trying to find him.”

“Okay. I’ll make my way back to you and try to help.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Finally putting the guns in her holsters, Y/N extends her wings and readies herself to take off. Before she can, a hand on her arm stops her. “You sure you’re good enough to fly? You seem pretty wiped and a lot just happened.”

The wings retract and she turns to Sam, “Yeah, but I’m meeting back up with Sharon. Can’t exactly get there in a timely manner on foot.”

He turns to Steve who shrugs and nods. He faces her again, “We can take you.”

She raises an eyebrow, “How? You’re just going to, what, casually steal a car?”

“Actually yeah.”

“You’re unbelievable. You do know you’re all already wanted for helping a literal assassin?” she shakes her head, not waiting for a response, “but I guess I don’t have another choice. Just get me close and you guys can go on your merry way evading the law.”

All Sam does is laugh.

tags:

@cake-writes @supraveng @vxidnik @kallafrench @itsallyscorner @polarcrystall @eliza5616

#gallifreys500 #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america x reader #sam wilson x reader #avengers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #captain america #marvel fanfiction #marvel ff #MCU fanfiction #mcu ff #marvel #MCU

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moltenhair · 4 years

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Hi! I’m the same person who wrote the earlier comment about manipulation in the audience. Thank you for responding! I’m sorry if the way a phrased it was wrong. I’ll give you a better example of what I was trying to say. For example: Cassandra. The way she’s written doesn’t leave room for much sympathy, but they want/expect us to feel sympathy for her anyways. I know they always intended to her to be Gothel’s daughter, but they could have written it a completely different way.

Hello! No need to apologize. ^^

yeah that’s kinda the show’s biggest issue.

They fell into the same behaviors as other shows when it comes to all shows when they want an outcome to be a certain way, they try and make the audience believe in it. They want the audience to root for the ending they want to write. And in some cases, like Cassandra’s redemption for example, what they write is sometimes mishandled or things aren’t fleshed out or... any number of things go wrong. So instead of it feeling natural and the audience naturally being on board it feels forced and like the show is TELLING you what to feel instead of creating organic emotion.

Now that’s not to say there weren’t some folks genuinely pleased and genuinely emotionally invested in the arc they wrote and wanted people to like. But based overall on audience reaction, the general consensus is that the finale/Cassandra’s villain to redemption arc wasn’t the best written aspect of the show. It had the weakest writing in terms of character motivation, character actions and pay off. It was written to get to that ENDING and everything that happened between the betrayal and Cass and Rapunzel making up was very weak.

To see more examples of this sort of thing happening I direct my followers to watch... 99% of the redemptions in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. (and its spinoffs) MLP: FiM perfected the “Rushed and sudden redemption”. Having villains decide to believe in friendship and go from enemy to new friend in literally seconds. Or having someone become good because they were stripped of their power. Not too unlike how Cassandra’s redemption was handled.. But MLP did it on such a large scale and so many times that it became an expectation. Even a joke within the universe of the show at points. But even still the expected each one to earn some kind of emotional response from the characters and audience. As if this sudden light-switch-morality-change was EARNED.

And them becoming self aware of their rushed redemption stories didn’t stop fans from watching and tiredly going “... Really? We’re doing this AGAIN?” and “We’re going to forgive her, aren’t we?”.

But in that show’s defense it was originally targeted at much smaller kids and the idea of friendship being the ultimate magic was kind of the point. So it relying on it as the plot’s crutch is to kind of be expected. In RTA? They didn’t really need to rely on magical sudden friendship magic to save the day. They had plenty of things to work with that they could have gone with but just kinda... didn't go with any of them. Instead they went with “sudden last minute change of heart” and as the redemption arc. Which doesn’t work in a more mature show with more mature themes. Which TTS/RTA has even if it is still meant for kids.

#long post #Anonymous

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pynkhues · 5 years

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Since you're a writer, I'm hoping you can shed some light on this. IMO the writers were chasing viewers in S2 and trying not to get canceled. Personally, I hate when writers toy with their audience, it means they don't have a clear picture of their characters and narrative. How do you feel about writers making it up as they go?

Ah, this post got really long, anon! Since you asked me as a writer, I’m answering as one (I hope you don’t mind! I also hope this doesnt come out as too Creative Writing 101 for people either. This is just lessons I’ve learned and use in my own practice, so I’m applying them here.)

(Also I have drawn horrible diagrams on my very pink notebook paper - I am so sorry, haha)

So first thing’s first - no. I don’t think the writers were chasing viewers (at least not beyond the way any writer is wanting an audience), and I don’t think they were making it up as they go really, but I can understand why you would think that way!

It won’t be a surprise to anyone that I love this show a lot, but coming from it as both a writer and editor - this show does have narrative problems, and the biggest ones, particularly in s2, are in execution, escalation and pacing.

I think heading into the season they had certain character arcs they wanted to follow which married well with the story they wanted to tell. In particular, I actually think the writers have a very strong handle on the girls (I will say that I’ve had a few asks telling me Beth’s characterisation is all over the place, which I’m curious about, just because I personally find her very consistent, and when I’ve asked for clarification, I’ve never gotten any reply, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

I mean, look at their s2 arcs on paper, right?

Ruby tries to negotiate Stan’s lowered opinion of her after the reveal of what she’s done, then has to negotiate him telling her to turn Beth and Annie in. She manages the situation painfully but pulls them through and they’re close again as Ruby navigates the increasingly lower depths of their crime life. When Stan acts to save Beth for Ruby and is arrested, it only escalates – the case on him driving Ruby to extremes to try and save him, including robbing a Quick Cash and using counterfeit money to bribe a lawyer. On top of that, she’s being targeted by an FBI agent who’s after her best friend who she gives up and then saves and then who tries to sacrifice herself for them. Ruby finishes the season the most morally compromised she’s ever been.

Annie gets back together with her ex only to find out that he’s gotten his not-quite-separated-wife pregnant. She splits up with him, but is heartbroken and it’s only amplified by the fact that they’ve been given a job by their Crime Boss to murder a man who tried to rape her but who’s grandmother she has a relationship with. Her sister can’t kill him, and Annie doesn’t get the chance as MP beats her to it. Upon disposing of the body though she endures a whole lot of pain as a result of both her ex’s new family and knowing she’s robbed a woman of her own. Annie goes on a guilt tour – tells her son, helps Marion, helps Nancy only to eventually find an absolver of her guilt in Noah, who builds her up and tells her she’s more than what life has given her. She lets herself have it for a while, before realising he’s FBI and there to trap her, and Annie tries to use him only to realise she can’t, and she finishes the season in a lot more hurt than she started it.

Beth struggles with guilt after getting Dean shot, gets the job to kill Boomer from Rio, can’t do it, gets support and encouragement from him (in various states of animosity), but in the end doesn’t have to find out if she can do it because MP does it instead. She’s rewarded by Rio in a way she probably never has been by anyone, her husband further subjugates her, so she has sex with Rio, starts to entertain a future with him, but he undermines her, so she seizes control from him. They work together. Dean forces her to break up with him due to jealousy, she struggles, goes back, but Rio’s stung, so unhelpful, and they play a little cat and mouse before he bails then kidnaps her and she shoots him.

With the exception of that very last sentence, I think all of those are narratively really strong pathways to have explored. Like I said above though, the issue is in execution, escalation and pacing.

But to talk about those things, I think I probably need to talk about story.

SO!

Stories have a shape.

Kurt Vonnegut talks extensively about this, and while he’ll talk about a few different types of story shapes, they really all boil down to this bad boy here:

Look at this guy.

What a beautiful thing.

He’s a story.

It doesn’t matter if you’re reading Dr Seuss or Charles Dickens, when you read a story – when you strip away its words and its characters and its settings – this is what it looks like.

Or, well.

Not quite.

Really, it’s this guy:

But we’ll talk about him in a sec.

Right now, let’s talk about that first little inch:

The Beginning

The fact that stories have a beginning is not a surprise to anyone. Stories need them. In some ways, they’re the most important part of your story. After all, the job of the beginning is to set up the world your protagonist is about to leave behind. That is essential in grounding a reader / viewer – orienting them to the world that they’re in, and getting them invested in the story you’re about to tell, if not the protagonist.

Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Game of Thrones are all excellent example of this (and frequently used in teaching) because in each of these cases it’s literal. Frodo leaves Bag End, Harry leave Privet Drive, Luke leaves Tatooine, the Starks leave Winterfell. There is a literal departure from the world before the crux of the story, and that departure is what signifies the start of the ‘hero journey’ aka the main part of your narrative.

Of course, it’s not always literal – in fact, it’s usually not. Usually that world is symbolic – it’s the single, uncertain world before the Bingley’s buy the house next door in Pride and Prejudice or the dry domestic sphere of Breaking Bad before Walt decides to make meth. It’s a marked shift, whether that’s internal or external.

In Good Girls, it’s internal.

The beginning is actually pretty perfect. The world it sets up that we’re about to (try to) depart is one of struggle and invisibility.

Beth’s in a loveless marriage promptly discovering that her husband is not only cheating but about to leave them destitute, Ruby’s getting ignored by the healthcare system and can’t afford to pay for her daughter’s wellbeing, and Annie is in a dead end job about to lose custody of her child.

Writing-wise – as a beginning, I honestly think 1.01 is close to perfect.

It sets up who these characters are, their personal conflicts, and the story world they share together, and the worlds they have on their own i.e. Ruby at the hospital and the diner, Annie at Fine and Frugal, Beth with Dean and Boland Motors.

Then:

BOOM

Inciting Incident.

The inciting incident is also often called The Point of No Return.

When I’m teaching, I personally like to call it the “You’re a wizard!” moment.

It’s when something happens that means everything set up in the beginning will be changed forever. It’s Romeo meeting Juliet, it’s Katniss volunteering for Prim, it’s Frodo deciding to take the ring to Mordor, it’s Jaimie pushing a child out a window, it’s Beth – deciding to take her little sister’s joke seriously and rob a grocery store.

(Again, I like to use Harry Potter because it’s literal – there is no return for Harry after hearing Hagrid tell him he’s a wizard. Everything is changed forever).

Inciting incidents are probably the most singularly important narrative moment, because they’re what everything else tumbles out of. Pretty much everything that happens in the story should be a direct or indirect result of the inciting incident. The inciting incident is ultimately the key of the story and what should unlock the overall arc.

When it comes to a series – whether that be a TV series, movie series or book series, each individual instalment (see: season of a show) should have its own inciting incident which – preferably – builds off the one established in the first instalment.

The Hunger Games does this really well. Katniss and Peeta being brought back into the games in Catching Fire is both an imitation inciting incident which allows the author to explore the story world further in an exciting way, and also an inciting incident that’s directly borne out of the first book / film – aka Katniss pissed enough people off during the first games that they’re going to try and kill her for real this time, which in turn gives us the opportunity to explore Katniss’ trauma, the ramifications of her actions in the first book on the broader story world, and to generate a new, compelling chapter based off of both.

Good Girls has a terrific inciting incident in s1 – which is Beth realising she’s about to lose everything.

That is our narrative point of no return.

And it works on a lot of levels – it establishes Beth as the driving engine of the story, fuelled by the chorus motivations of Annie and Ruby, rounding off both their collective and individual stakes, it sets us up for a strong narrative spine and solid characterisations.

Good Girls actually also has a terrific inciting incident in s2, which operates strongly on its own while also building firmly off the character arcs of s1.

The s2 inciting incident is Rio showing up on that park bench with Marcus, a gun and an order.

The story pivots here – giving Rio a lot of narrative thrust (get your minds out of the gutter kids), and making him a sort of secondary story engine. The core engine is still Beth, but her life is different now. She’s been traumatised and she’s exhausted, but Rio revealing his son to the girls (and tying their motivations up together in a neat little package) while forcing her to act, re-establishes her as the person who’s decisions are going to be the driving force of the narrative.

Ruby and Annie are, of course, story engines in their own right too, but they fall into line behind Beth usually, and their narrative push is actually usually away from the story throughline, but we’ll talk about that in a sec.

Rising Tension / The Middle

Okay, this is where things get a little tricky.

Do you remember this guy?

When we talk about stories, rising tension / the middle is the big guy. It’s the bulk of your narrative. It’s Where Things Happen. It’s where all the ugly stuff set up in your beginning and exploded by your inciting incident just - - grows a life of it’s own.

Or - -

Well.

Maybe not.

Forget about this guy.

Rising tension is this:

Rising tension is a series of ‘mini climaxes’ on the way to the main climax that raises the stakes, lets you know characters better, and pushes your characters onwards to the main climax.

Each of these little climaxes should be followed by a ‘narrative rest’. (that’s the dip after each spike)

Which - - I don’t know, might sound weird? I know when I started writing I was like ?? but it’s true! The closer you get to a big narrative climax, the more important rests are! Rests are – I personally think – one of the most important components of storytelling, because they re-ground an audience, remind them of what’s at stake, before thrusting everyone back into danger.

Again, Harry Potter is a gift in this sense because this is all really clearly paced out. Think about the first instalment – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s / Sorcerer’s Stone.

Harry and Ron save Hermione and Ron from the troll!!!

Then they become friends and enjoy school and quidditch.

Harry loses control of his broom during a quidditch game!!!!

He’s okay and then it’s Christmas and Harry gets the invisibility cloak and feels connected to his parents for perhaps the first time in his life.

Harry, Hermione and Ron go through the trapdoor to get the philosopher’s stone!!!

And - - okay, you get the point.

Each mini climax ups the stakes, but we feel those stakes upped because of the time we spend with characters during the ‘narrative rest’. For instance, while Harry and Ron saving Hermione from the troll might have sparked an interest in her, it’s the narrative rest scenes between that and her setting Snape on fire during the quidditch game that makes us invest in her as a character.

This is where things get a bit hairy with Good Girls. Good Girls does a tremendous job of giving us both great climaxes and wonderful moments of narrative rest. The issue, for me at least, is that it’s not always the best at balancing them. When I talk about escalation and pacing, this is a big part of what I mean.

Remember how I said this was the shape of a story?

Well, I think Good Girls s2 looked more like this:

We had a lot of solid movement in the first half of the season that sort of flattened out into a lower stakes, more meandering middle (which gave us 2.08 through 2.12). Which - -

Look.

The story changed gear, and it didn’t work.

Think of it this way:

2.01 – mostly character-based fallout from s1 + inciting incident of Rio handing them the gun

2.02 – almost entirely rising tension culminating with the girls bribing Boomer and Beth lying to Rio

2.03 – which thrusts us straight back into rising tension with the girls trying to kill Boomer and ‘succeeding’ via Mary Pat

2.04 – which gives us a very satisfying narrative rest as we explore Rio and Beth’s relationship outside of an overall narrative thrust – he gives her a key, she shies away from him, only to fall entirely back into him culminating in sex which itself brings about a new climax (no pun intended!) in the scene with Beth, Rio and Dean at the dealership. It’s also a strong character episode in closing certain plot threads – ending Annie and Greg’s relationship + ending Ruby lying to Stan about what they’re doing – while establishing major new threads – i.e. really colliding Turner and Mary Pat.

2.05 – and after the rest, we’re back to almost entirely satisfying rising tension! Building off of the threat of finding Boomer’s body and the new tensions that Rio and Beth’s intimacy brings.

2.06 – a mix episode! Very much building to the strong climax of Beth seizing power, but also an episode that plays around with character, has a lot of strong ‘rest’ moments i.e. the girls sorting pills and talking which gives us a lot of information as to state of minds, etc.

2.07 – again, very strong mixed episode which is focused on one single, extreme climax – Jane being missing, but building a very character-centric episode around it. Also introduces Noah though? Which is a mistake. He should have been introduced - I think, in 2.05, but that feels like a whole other post.

2.08 – narratively speaking the same as 2.07 in the sense of a single climax (the girls failing to get the money back / the Beth-Ruby confrontation), but has the added bonus of flashbacks.

2.09 – we have a slight narrative thrust with the robbery of the Quick Cash but it proves very quickly to be low stakes. This is an alllll emotional stakes episode, which means narrative tension is slowing.

2.10 – again, a character-focused, narrative rest episode devoted to Beth struggling with getting square. A few small climaxes – Annie and Ruby in Canada and Turner at the dealership being the big ones, but both quickly prove toothless. The heft / strength of the episode again is in character moments, not narrative thrust. Again - slowing it down.

2.11 – oh, what do we have here? Another character-focused, narrative rest episode? I love this episode – it’s one of my favourites of the show, but it’s intensely character focused. Very much centred in waving away the smoke around both Noah and Rio for Annie and Beth respectively. No dramatic climaxes. Slowing the story down even further.

2.12 – another narrative rest episode. A lot of slow exposition of Mary Pat and Jeff, which is good to know, but I’d argue placed badly in the season. This season’s already been slowing down despite the narrative timeline tightening, but this episode only further pushes on the brakes for Dean’s new job, Beth and Dean’s divorce, Beth and Rio’s break up. Two very small climaxes - the lawyer telling Ruby he knows about the money and the Boomer reveal but - in the context of the season - actually pretty low stakes. Again. Slowing down the narrative.

2.13 – A BIG CLIMAX EPISODE WHAT IS GOING ON???

What I’m saying in this is that the pacing in the back half of the season was, to me at least, fundamentally off. They hadn’t steered a strong enough narrative spine to take us through the season, and got heavily invested in character moments and not-entirely-thought-out-fallout in the back half of the season – it didn’t understand it’s own narrative thrust well enough to get us through. It also established a certain pacing with us in the first half of the season and shifted gears halfway through.

You can’t have your first three or six episodes be high-stakes-high-action, and then make the back end of your season same-stakes-low-action and top it all off with an explosive, poorly built-up finale in the way that they did.

There wasn’t enough thrust to push us through to the scene in Rio’s loft – neither narratively or in a character sense, and as a result, those last few episodes fall apart. Even beyond that though, the season escalated quickly then - - didn’t really know what to do with those escalations? It plateaued, which is indicative of bad pacing across the season.

I actually do think it’d be a relatively easy fix? I’d bring the Noah arc forwards and actually fiddle with the Beth and Rio break ups - get one even closer the tinale and make it more painful. Make it a climax in itself.

But anyway, haha:

The Resolution

All stories have a resolution too of course.

The resolution can be 30 seconds or 30 minutes – it’s a time to tie up loose ends and to reassure your audience that the journey they’ve been on is worthwhile.

(After all – you’ll notice the story diagram is not symmetrical – we never finish where we began).

I’m not going to talk too much about resolutions because at the end of the day – resolutions should fall fairly naturally out of your beginning, your inciting incident, your rising tension. It should tumble out like the double wedding at the end of Pride and Prejudice, but I will say that the s2 resolution was...err, not good. In no small part because it didn’t fall out of what we’d been told all season. They’d established a certain throughline and then taken it back, and that was nagl to be honest.

On the plus side though - it wasn’t a finale, so I have my fingers crossed they can fix it!

But yes, back to your ask, anon.

No, I don’t think that the writers were pandering. I think they went in with a sketched outline and that they probably got lost in the back end of the season and weren’t quite sure how to drum up the final act, which meant that final act didn’t work.

Ah, this post got so long! I hope it wasn’t boring or too self-indulgent or silly, and that you got something out of it! I am, of course, always happy to answer writing questions, and I hope you liked reading my story ramblings ;-)

#writing posts #gg season 2 #welcome to my ama

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spectralreplica · 5 years

Note

So I loved your response on who would be most likely to witch out in the PMMM/DR v3 au, but id love to ask, what did they all wish for? (Bonus: Also did those wishes backfire?)

So, these are my thoughts for right now, but if I actually planned more of the “story” for this AU, some of them might change. For some of them I kind of cheated and came up with the power first, but in my defense it’s hard to come up with wishes without having planned more of the plot, since Kyubey tries so hard to get people to make spur of the moment wishes during times of stress.

Kokichi: I see him as totally paranoid (rightfully so) over how Kyubey’s trying to trick him but still obsessing for weeks over the perfect phrasing for a wish just in case, and then suddenly a witch traps him and DICE in a Labyrinth and he ends up contracting with a totally spontaneous wish. Something like “saving my friends” or “being strong enough to protect my family.” For maximum irony, he’d end up with powers that get stronger when fighting with/to protect others but keep trying to fight alone anyway due to not trusting other magicals and not wanting to put DICE in danger. He’d also tell people he wished for other things like, “to rule the world from the shadows,” or “an infinite supply of scarfs.” As for backfiring, he does save everyone that one time, but they’re in more danger since other magicals end up targeting them when Kokichi poaches from their territories, plus they’re in the line of fire if/when he witches out.

Kaito: Like in the game, Kaito is terminally ill and wishes for something along the lines of “being healthy enough to achieve his dreams,” but he totally lies and says he wished for something like “being strong enough to help others.” He gets the power to temporarily boost other people’s powers and/or make their bodies regenerate from wounds. He kind of avoids using the healing part at first because it’s a little suspicious with his alleged wish and then pretends it’s a thing he’s been practicing. It doesn’t really go bad for him, and I don’t think he’d regret making the wish, even when he finds out about the Soul Gems controlling your body thing. Maybe when he realizes there are no witches in space? But even then I think he’d be in denial…

Shuichi: Shuichi ends up involved in a really serious case and just can’t find the piece that ties it all together even though everyone is counting on him. At the height of his anxiety, Kyubey approaches him, and he wishes to find the truth. He basically gets super intuition/lie detection with a (mental) visual interface sort of like the DR trials (truth bullets plus the mini games). This creates drama with certain other magicals who are hiding something (cough, Kokichi and Kaito) and makes him doubt his skills since he’s relying on magic to cheat.

Maki: Still an orphan, still approached by a cult, but then approached by Kyubey. She wishes that the cult would never bother anyone at the orphanage again, and they all end up arrested, dead, or mysteriously vanished. She basically gets the power to make things/people “go away” to a pocket dimension only she can access, and this makes other people sort of forget those things/people exist while they’re inside. She sees her wish as a necessary sacrifice, like her becoming an assassin in canon, so she is Not Happy when Kyubey approaches some of the other orphans.

Kaede: Honestly not sure???? She doesn’t really have anything in her backstory that would be a catalyst for Kyubey to approach her, so I see it as more of a random chance, situation-based thing, like Madoka healing the cat. Maybe she was trapped in a Labyrinth and wished for the power to fight survive, or to save a friend? Just know it’s not related to her piano playing. That’s all practice, and she likes it that way.

(Joke answer: Kaede gets super mad at someone from a distance and wishes she could slap them across the face for being an idiot. She gets the power to telekinetically smack anything around from across the room.)

Himiko: Intrigued by the idea of real magic but not intrigued by the idea of having to fight witches. Ends up wishing for her mentor to be more popular. Not as mind-controlly as Kyoko’s wish; basically, people just find him really cool and talented and can’t look away from his shows, but they don’t like, form a cult? Sort of derails her own career as a magician (both because the audience likes her mentor more and because she has to sneak off and fight witches) and doesn’t really fix the problems in their relationship, but he doesn’t leave and never return. Anyway, she gets the power to make herself and anyone she touches more or less noticeable/popular. Really good for stealth or drawing aggro. Also for convincing people to do her favors.

Tenko: She recently moved to the city after living in a temple since she was a child, and is finding it hard to adjust. One night, when she’s out acting as a “hero of justice” like her Master taught her and preventing a suicide, she ends up trapped in a Labyrinth and saved by Himiko. She ends up really, really attached and sort of accompanies her on hunts for a while until something goes wrong, and she ends up wishing to protect Himiko. She ends up with sort of a sense when Himiko needs help and is really good at putting up shields/barriers.

Miu: Still in a bad car crash leading to a coma, butthe surgery doesn’t go as well. Kyubey approaches her in the hospital right after she’s been told she’s facing permanent brain damage. She almost wishes to put her brain back to normal but then decides, why stop there? She wishes to be a genius with a super-brain that can solve any problem, and ends up with super inspiration, mostly aimed at turning any materials around her into an invention that will help her. She can use magic to substitute for missing materials and speed up the development time, but this uses a lot of magic at once, and the finished product won’t work for anyone else. Freaks out when she learns her body is now essentially hardware, but then she realizes the possibilities for improving things… Then everyone else freaks out.

Gonta: Still a feral child who got lost in the woodsand was sort of raised by wolves (not reptites, sorry), but this affects his ability to learn language and social skills much, much more severely than in canon. Wishes for the ability to understand others, which makes him fluent in all languages and sort of an empath. Also, because he sees animals as sort of on the same level as humans, this extends to animal languages in addition to human ones. Being able to speak and mimic “good manners” improves others’ opinions of him and his intelligence, but being able to feel how his birth family really feels about him is so upsetting that he eventually ends up running away and staying with Miu and Kiibo.

Kiibo: Lives with Miu. Does not remember his wish, but he has powers, so he has to have made one? Probably human. I’m still sort of torn over his backstory, but I’m kind of leaning towards a Hijiri kind of situation, where he was created by someone else’s wish. Or magic (cough, Miu.)

Ryoma: Wishes to get revenge on the mafia that killed his family and girlfriend. Basically gets enhanced strength and a sort of sense of where all of the members are. I sort of went over how his wish ends up in the other post…

Korekiyo: Wished to cure his sister’s illness and got healing powers. Currently traveling the world to observe other magicals. Like the other cult members, offers to use his powers for a price (usually Grief Seeds or information).

Angie: Starts out living on an isolated island andacting as a priestess/oracle, but begins to doubt her own abilities/connection to her god because natural disasters are getting worse and more people are leaving. She sort of interprets Kyubey as a messenger from her god and wishes to know what’s really going on/get a better sense of her destiny. She gets the power to predict the future as long as she is personally involved. She has to actively focus on a question (What happens if I do this?) or a goal (I want to achieve this) and she’ll see the most probable path. This really elevates her sense of self-importance, and makes it much easier to make others see things her way. It doesn’t prevent a tsunami from destroying her home and making everyone leave, at which point she meets Tsumugi and Kirumi.

Tsumugi: Her life isn’t bad, but she doesn’t like herself that much and feels empty and unfulfilled until she comes across the existence of actual magical girls (well, one in particular). Like an anime come to life! Tsumugi wishes for the ability to become someone else (yes, I know this was Rena’s wish too…) and gets the power to transform into other people. If they’re a magical, she can also copy a limited, weaker version of their powers.

Rantaro: Wishes to find all of his sisters and gets the ability to track people. He has an inherent sense where each of his sisters is and their general emotional state, but he can also apply this power to other people if he focuses. It works from anywhere in the world and can be based on a photograph, but it works best when the person is close by (from a country away he knows they’re alive and northwest from him, from a building away he knows they’re sitting in a chair in the back corner of the back bedroom and feeling excited but a little nervous) and he’s met them in person. He quickly discovers that tracking a sister down once doesn’t mean she’ll stay “found” and go home. Some of them also want to travel, others have bad senses of direction and always get lost again, some find his new knowledge of where they are and how they feel super creepy and avoid him, and at least one became a magical girl already… He probably finds out about the witch thing first…….

Kirumi: Part of a family that’s been serving animportant, rich family (maybe Rantaro’s? for maximum irony?) for generations. She’s been trained to dedicate her whole life to serving others and has no real prospects outside of eventually becoming head maid and training her own children to replace her. Meets Angie and Tsumugi and is immediately drawn in by Angie’s message. Wishes for the ability to instantly transport herself and others and gets the ability to teleport to any location she’s seen (photos count). It gets harder the more people she takes along, the longer the distance, and the less detail she knows about her destination. She tells everyone—and herself—that she lives to serve and wished for a convenient power to better serve the group’s needs, but she secretly wanted to escape really badly for her own sake too.

#Ask #Anon #Long Post #DRV3/PMMM AU #Anonymous

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oliverpdaniel · 4 years

Text

Let’s talk about casual homophobia.

I wanted to share a transcript of a TikTok video by a minor celebrity (I won't do them the honour of identifying them, but suffice it to say that this individual thrives mostly on controversy and poor publicity), to demonstrate what day-to-day homophobic language looks like. Many of these questions have been asked to me, or tell of real things that I've experienced, due to a generally callous view of queer folks. The quoted parts are the actual video, the unquoted responses mine.

Note in advance that some of these questions are clearly oriented towards gay men, but I am responding from the perspective of a bisexual man. Anyway...

"Okay, these are my questions for the gays – sorry, I was on Straight TikTok for a minute; what?"

Or, as you might like to call it, TikTok. For those unfamiliar, "Gay TikTok" is a small subset of the TikTok community that makes videos primarily revolving around in-jokes and shared experiences of the queer community. Thus, "Straight TikTok" is only extant in contrast, a joking reference to certain, overwhelmingly heteronormative parts of the TikTok community. While I'm not a big fan of the idea of 'ownership' or deciding who's allowed to say what, this (obnoxiously straight, in every sense of the word 'obnoxious') celebrity is trying somewhat unceremoniously to insert themselves into a narrative not their own here. Not off to a great start.

(1) "Would you care if your partner was bisexual?"

Whelp, this is one I can't really answer, can I? But, this still does lean into the old "gold-star" ideology of homosexuality, which makes it off-putting from the jump. For those unfamiliar, a "gold star" gay/lesbian is one who has never had sex with the opposite gender. This is a completely silly distinction, that fails to take into account personal circumstances, as well as – y'know – the fluid nature of human sexuality. TL;DR, even if you're exclusively into one gender, you shouldn't care about your partner's sexual orientation (other than, y'know, making sure it includes your gender) because, leaving aside the absolutely rad underworld of polyamory, they're only going to be into you while they're with you.

(2) "Have you ever been with someone of the opposite gender?"

Ah, more gold-starring! A great way to start. "You're trans? What's your deadname?"

(3) "Do you take offence when a girl calls you her Gay Best Friend?"

The Gay Best Friend is an expendable, non-threatening fount of femininity in masculine form, someone to go clothes-shopping with and who will give you sassy advice on boys. God forbid, however, that the Gay Best Friend try to be vulnerable with you about the difficulties of LGBTQIA+ life; they're only there for sashaying and making out with at parties, right? The Gay Best Friend is an incredibly harmful notion to men on both sides of the sexuality spectrum. Gay (and ESPECIALLY bi/pan/poly) men already know to fear the label, because of the dismissive treatment and expectation of performative homosexuality that comes along with it. Straight men should fight against it, too, because it's a symptom of the present hegemony of heterosexual relationships, which revolves around sexual transactionalism and a healthy dose of gender-role-fuelled intimidation[1]. (If you've never heard any of those words, you're probably the target audience here.)

(4) "Be honest – how many times has a straight person tried to hook you up with a gay person based solely on the fact that they're gay and no other compatibility requirements?" (with a devilish smile, into full blown "oh guuuuuurl" laughter)

This is a real thing that happens to people, myself included, all too frequently. It tells us that when you look at me, you don't think "Oliver", you think "Gay", and next time you meet another gay guy, that's the word ringing through your head. It's not funny. It's hurtful. If you're going to recommend a partner to me, make sure you actually have faith in a connection forming. As someone who ended up in an abusive relationship as a result of overzealous matchmaking, it's not something to be taken lightly; relationships, especially gay relationships and all the societal friction they inevitably entail, are not here for your endearment.

(5) "Are you down to hook up with someone who's 'just curious'?"

MORE gold-starring! God, could you imagine the uproar if a lesbian approached a straight person and said that they "missed dick" and/or wanted to experiment!? Oh, wait, that's already common in straight porn to the point of cliché. Gag; and not the good kind of gag.

(6) "Do you proudly wear the rainbow flag, or are you kinda against it because it kinda segregates?"

...what? When I first found this video, it was being duetted (TikTok's side-by-side video response) by a queer person, and at this point they took the opportunity to say, "I don't like you." I echo the sentiment.

(7) "Are you a 'yaaaaaas kweeeeen' gay or are you, like, 'fuck that shit what the fuck?'"

WE ARE NOT HERE TO PERFORM QUEERNESS FOR YOU. Leaving aside the sociolinguistic aspects of queer language and its intersection with (read: theft from) African-American Vernacular English, if people want to act flamboyantly gay, THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. If people want to act "normal" (read: heteronormatively!!!), that's NONE OF YOUR GOD DAMN BUSINESS. Queer people are fucking people, they act differently in different scenarios, and it's not for you to fetishize or to find "too much sometimes". When you accept a queer person into your life, you're accepting every facet of them into your life, for them to live and love unapologetically – not just the parts you find entertaining.

(8) "This might be a dealbreaker for me: do you like musical theatre?"

Yes. But even if I didn't – if I liked drinking beer and watching Nascar (sorry dad), but wish I had a boyfriend to do that with, guess what? That's my own fucking business. And, again, if your idea of a "dealbreaker" when engaging with a gay person is whether or not they like musical theatre – probably one of the most tired stereotypes about gay folks – and not, I dunno, if they're fun to be around and respect your boundaries and opinions, then maybe you're not looking for a gay friend for the right reason.

(9) "Be honest – do you still go through the Chick-Fil-A drivethrough and get that spicy chicken sandwich or those nuggies?" (big, face-scrunching smile.)

This is the one that REALLY got me. This displays just how tone-deaf this person is and how deeply they've objectified the concept of homosexuality for themselves. Chick-Fil-A is a massively homophobic organization from the top down, and they donate millions to organizations that want to bring into question my very right to exist, morally and legally.

As a straight person not affected by these issues, it's easy to say "well, I know I /shouldn't/ go to Chick-Fil-A because of the 'gay stuff', but oh IT'S SOOOOOO GOOOOOOOOD!". It's easy to momentarily forget one's morality because hey, it's not like you're directly hurting anyone, right? But, as a queer person who has to walk by the brand-new Chick-Fil-A at Yonge and Bloor every day on my walk to class, seeing the lines wrapping around the block lets me take direct measure of who, and how many, are willing to forget about me for just long enough to enjoy a fucking chicken sandwich. Go literally anywhere else. Eating at Chick-Fil-A is a choice, and it's a choice that informs me that you care less about my right to live than your own personal enjoyment.

(10) "Do you get upset when they have straight actors portray gay characters?"

This is a whole other debate, so I'm not going to get into the actual subject matter of this question. But hey – maybe, in an industry literally overrun with queer people, maybe we can stop converting a significant and pernicious problem in entertainment into a cutesy debate topic? Something really tells me that this person isn't going to start whipping out the intersectional feminist literature to explain their argument here. In all likelihood, it'll sound more along the lines of "but Eddie Redmayne looked so GOOD in that dress!"

(11) "And what's the GAYEST thing about you?'

Nope. Shut up and choke. I hate you.

Never tell me for a second that homophobia is "over" in Canada/the West/wherever. Never tell me that it's a distant issue, remaining only in far-off religious backwaters. This is what it can look like. Fetishization; dismissal; turning struggles for human dignity into pseudo-intellectual debates.

I'm not here to be your Gay Best Friend.

I'm not here to date your new gay acquaintance.

I'm not here to repeatedly explain to you my need to have rights.

I'm here for the same reasons you are.

I want to live and love, not to be treated like a toy.

Footnotes

[1] Okay, I'm obviously not saying that all straight relationships are built around sexual transactionalism and intimidation, nor am I saying that non-comphet relationships are not. But, in my experience as a reformed Gay Best Friend who has had to provide counsel to cishet friends over some INFURIATINGLY stupid relationship/courting issues, I would argue that a full ninety percent of them could be resolved if the experiencer simply viewed their partner/interlocutor/'tyng' as another human being, rather than being from the mysterious species that is The Opposite Gender.

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

I went off on a rant to a friend about things like Gamble Era, and miscellaneous idolized past authors, and you know what, fuck it. I'm going to say it out loud. And listen, listen this is NOT going to be my normal "Whatever you like :)" post like, this is literally an accumulation of horse shit I've seen talked about in any and all lanes for years that have been driving me fucking bananas for years. Don't just read this going HAHA I HATE GAMBLE TOO and then be shocked when I slap at inexplicably favorited authors in this fandom beyond that.

------

God how can anyone genuinely like Gamble, like, literally, legitimately and 1000%, not even about her killing Cas or whatever, what kind of pure trash TV do these people intake in mass that they think Gamble was good at her job I can not emphasize enough how cripplingly disappointing the shift from S4-5 to 6-7 was I know art is in the eye of the beholder or whatever but JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST.

Fuck constructivist theory there's a point when things are just clearly trash Benefits S7 had: Just da bros uhhhh *flips through pages* Anything else? Are dick jokes art?

Her era was overrun by plot holes you could fly boeing jets through -- and I don’t mean shit like when fandom goddamn made up in their own damn head about an angelreaper retcon even though the reaper in the same episode they said was a retcon said the deadass opposite of what everybody fucking wound themselves up about, just deadass yawning voids -- it had unstable mechanics on previously established species shit, the villain plot was one giant monster of the week that tried desperately to go back to how they handled shit like Azazel as a threat but miserably failed, the monster had the dumbest weakness possible, the characters themselves were unstable in their characterizations and not even in that general "I don't like what the show is doing with them" but episode to episode Sam flipping from ripping Dean with laughter over gay jokes to woke-sounding sentiments

The cinematic style was gone and just vacant, it was neither the overexposed horror desaturated film nor the vivid fantasy of Carver, it just sat there like an unpolished lump

While later seasons also lost the classic rock vibe for budget reasons, that too disappeared in her era so we had no film energy, no story energy, no character energy, no villain energy, no structure energy, and we didn't even have the fucking cool tunez but we had dicks allergic to windex

It even lacked the elements that gave Kripke era value

Dusty americana died, all we had left was teenage girl fuckin emo sad boi drama And even that was miserably piss poor

I have never seen such a visionless fucking disaster successfully air an entire season on my fucking TV

I will never, EVER be able to outline what a fucking disappointment it was to go from S4-5 level show maturation into this negative embarrassment by season 7.

S6 Kripke was still around to some extent and that's the only reason I can deduce, S7 minded, there was any substance to it, even if her writing and editing crew at the time were a goddamn tire fire. And then people turn around and yell feminism if you criticise the giant fucking blazing slag heap that was her era and blame anyone and everyone but her and here you FUCKING go and she does half the shit all over again in the Magicians

(The friend replied: "The season only works in reverse, which is a crime on serialised TV (and just bad screenwriting)." )

That's just it though, it's like S7 we were suddenly back to fucking episodical TV like S1-2 because enough fuckbats yelled about Good Old Days. Only instead of ʷĤε𝕣є'𝓼 đα𝒹 or 𝐓Ħⓔ DεᗰＯᶰ 卄𝓐ｓ Ƥl𝓐𝓝Ş ℱⓞｒ Ⓜ𝔢 it was ħ𝔞ⓗａ 𝓓ＩＣ𝐤ᔕ 🍆

I mean fucking sure this show started targeting late teenage women but Kripke had started maturing it forward and then Gamble fucking rolls along and it's like she's writing for 13 year old boys suddenly

Well I say that's what she seemed to be writing for but at the time the marketing was gross objectification going LOOK PRETTY BOYS WITH GUNS and that was it, that was the substance of what they gave a shit about and apparently the kind of demographic they thought constituted the sum of the SPN audience which, go get fucked guys, seriously. No fucking wonder the ratings got gouged in half over the course of a year. And fandom yells BUT FRIDAY DEATH SLOT but go sit and spin, S6 was friday deathslot too but before Kripke disappeared as the last thread holding SOME kind of cohesive value in the piece together in S6, that went to shitfuckhell in a handbag at light speed. People migrated to SPN Fridays S6 just fine. They LEFT season 7 and then people plug their ears if they don’t like that. And Carver had to fight all S8 to get it back, /but succeeded, and then-some./

oh and lemme head off fandom dumbfuck argument #72 about “well Dabb’s ratings are lower than Gamble’s were so he sucks and ruined it worse” go take your fucking ass and google “national primetime ratings decline” and enjoy exploring the last fucking 70 years of TV history. Pointing out a show crashes within a year because of massive failure is not the same as people being intentionally fucking daft sods to the TV universe’s decline over the last decade so like, don’t. Don’t be that person. Because you’re still embarrassingly wrong.

(The friend replied: "That's why I don't get why people care about what the vocal minority have to say. They *already* got what they wanted. It crashed and burned. Nobody in their right mind in corporate world is gonna be like, let's try that again, let's throw more money into that burning pit That's just not happening. Gay angels or no, it just ain't." )

I mean that should have been obvious when 1. Carver brought back Cas and pretty much immediately promoted him to Regular 2. Misha then got promoted to lead credits in S12, no matter what circles of intentional, willful ignorance fandom argues about what the credits mean for petty piss fights

"LOL & MEANS HE'S LESS IMPORTANT" Shut the fuck up and sit down you basement dwelling shitlord, go watch the A-Team, tell me how Mr T is the least important character

Also unpopular fuckin opinion Robbie Thompson and Ben Edlund are not That Great. Compared to what they were SURROUNDED with they were exceptional but Berens and Yockey could run circles around them both. They just happened to give fandom shit they liked during dark times so it made them fun. Robbie Thompson and Ben Edlund are basically the baseline value of our current writing team on random names. Give me Robbie Thompson and give me Davy Perez and I see no fucking difference. People compare Edlund to Yockey because of certain shit he pulled off but like, no? If there WAS a comparison it’d be like, Meredith, and even then I can’t see any way Edlund is substantially better than Meredith but could list the other in reverse?

But if we're talking about being able to write pieces with more than 1 or 2 layers of impact I'm sorry, it's rose colored glasses that makes people idolize them

Like if people seriously objectively fucking sat and reviewed the methodology and substance of their past idol authors to the demonstratable level of the current crew where I am DEAD ASS HAVING DISCOURSE WITH THE EXEC PRODUCER ABOUT BAUDRILLARDIAN CONCEPTS AND DELILLO in the middle of a hypercomplex postmodern two-directional commentary piece on some scaffolding of sociopolitical representation commentary that SAILS past the level the ‘activists’ in this fandom think about, literally, what people like is Gay Shit They Got lobbed at them or shiny visuals. And you know what, whatever, sure, like what you like IDGAF but don't sit here like Thompson was some fucking Shakespeare. No, your fucking "meta" you -- you, in any lane, anyone, any ship, anywhere, ever -- wrote by COMPLETELY randomly associating whatever storyline you could staple on to try to pretend the text was doing what you want at the time -- is not the same as author intent and actual weight and merit to the cohesive structure of what they build.

YES YES I KNOW, Death of the Author, someone just popped that up in their head, like the ten thousand posts I've made over the last 209349 years addressing how people abusive the fuck out of the term and that's fine, interpret shit however you wanna make it do jumping jacks but don't sit here entering the time you attached Little Bo Peep as some sort of intrinsic value to Dean trying to find Sam in 1492 and act like that's some deep critical shit the authors thoughtfully laced into the piece, these are not the same fucking conversation.

Big hollow voids of statements doesn’t make a better author, it makes you bust your ass harder to actually give any sort of consequential meaning to the piece, and that has nothing to do with the quality of the author or text themselves, that has to do with your interpretation in a piece devoid of genuine thematic subtext so people desperately try to bobby pin some bullshit together. Which also is probably why this fandom can’t tell the difference between coding, interpretation, subtext, and text for their fucking life anymore.

Protip the entire goddamn writing room is pouring that gay shit in your cup that's been triple brewed above Robbie or Edlund’s pots and people are still complaining it isn't enough

Another point that drives me up a wall, "LAZARUS RISING IS THE BEST EPISODE EVER" okay like lmaooooo what the fuck are you smoking Was it impressive as fuck at the time yes it was. But again, fucking perspective. I literally went back and watched it like a month ago and I realized it was a fucking void of content compared to our modern writing, it just had one of the most impressive entrances, it DID have good directing (YES MANNERS WAS GOOD, NO DISRESPECT), and it introduced a character everybody loved. Dean was still a halfass caricature

You wanna know why everybody made that shit gay right away Because there was no fucking substance around it it was a wallpaper of a cool looking episode that was otherwise blank space to run around in on dialogue they should have thought to construct better if they didn't want it to be gay

And sure since then the author room has picked up the big gay ball and started actually turning it into some shit which, great, but this is yet again a matter of structure and intent versus throwing rotten pasta at the wall and seeing if the mold makes it stick. I don't care if you have a vegan recipe that converts the fucking mold on the pasta into a healthy sauce base that isn't what it was thrown at the wall like, and no amount of complimenting the original chef's moldy pasta means it was some tasty shit before you added 10,000 ingredients they never fucking thought about or at least a second chef came along and figure out what to do with the pile of goo.

Fandom would stop being this miserable fucking putrid stinkhole if people would collectively apply some goddamn perspective to the content they argue about before even bothering to engage with uwustiel/cest dot tumblr dot com in irrelevant argument #9238428934 they use to fence off whether they should enjoy the content or try to explore it for its value or not because there is NO. MORE. PERSPECTIVE.

YOU KNOW WHAT? IT’S FINE TO EVEN ADMIT YOU LIKED THINKY-FREE TV, THAT’S FINE, THAT’S YOUR RIGHT.

But don’t SIT here acting like a lot of these former train wrecks were “better authors” or somehow objectively “better content.” No like, you like not thinking about shit that much and staring at pretty boys or whatever, good on you, but you literally like, objectively, some of the shit I’ve seen go down is like genuinely trying to compare a toddler’s fridge art to a Vasarely and hold them both up in front of people who do art for a living. They ain’t gonna shit on the kid’s fridge art, but they’re gonna go “awwwww she’s gonna grow up to be a great artist!” before breaking down on Vasarely’s vector illusion shit, sorry, that’s just how it be. I’m sure the kid had some sort of vision to drawing the triangle over the square that kinda looks like a house but the hypercomplex thought processes simply aren’t there.

Just people STUCK in weird idolization of shit that is so far past irrelevant to the current piece in play and fighting to win arguments while trying to convince themselves they're right and secretly dreading how titanically failboat wrong they are ignoring the sound of the glacier having ripped through their hulls SEASONS ago. The ice water has already leaked onto the fucking DECK and people are still arguing about completely ridiculous shit or fancying things that were 1/10th of the value of the current content they're claiming isn't good or enough or valid compared to the shallow specters that birthed them out of old aeons.

Dead-ASS Kripke picked shit because it “sounded cool.” I’m sorry if there weren’t some model guys fandom wanted to hump everybody would be making fun of the fedora-tipping mindset that probably is where the fucking trenchcoat came from and may have debated giving Cas -- sorry, “CASS” because “COOL” -- katanas. But sure. Way, way deeper and more intricate than the Jungian intertextual post modern piece that’s so tightly knit it’s making fandom unwittingly comment on themselves.

I thought people grew out of that shit when they were like 16 unless they were incels

(My spidey senses detected someone unironically preparing to inform me about stealing borrowing the imagery from Constantine on reflex, because you know, that’s some peak intertext right there.)

Dead ASS that writing logic is that motherfucker that wanders into your freeform RP server with Spawn knockoff miasma chainsaw arms under his leather trenchcoat shooting twin Deagles with a vague story of wanting to face his demon overlord father that’s written like a looney tunes villain, in the middle of you cowriting with your lit-savvy friends trying to make a fun fantasy adaptation rendering fascism and corporate america and then he gets upset when nobody wants him to shit lightning -- /fight me/.

SERIOUSLY FOLKS. WANNA ENJOY THE SHOW AGAIN? GET SOME PERSPECTIVE. LET GO OF FETISHIZING WEIRD WARPED MEMORIES AND LINES OF ARGUMENT INSIDE YOUR OWN HEADS ISTG IT'LL HELP.

The day I find an argument that makes season 7 legit good TV rather than, at very best, “fun junk TV I had a cool ride on”, that does NOT involve evoking arguments distinctly born out of petty shipping culture arguments and/or (generally the same) attaching their own shit with a stapler to MAKE it have some sort of meaning at the time it was airing (rather than later showrunners making it add up to something), I’ll eat my fucking arm.

𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴. Carver era had already gone through dramatic changes that deepend the scope of the show and even then, 15.09 Bobo’s The Trap held more ACTUAL commentary on this fandom than Thompson’s Fanfiction episode did as a supposed fandom-commentary episode much LESS 15.04 as an actual meta framed episode. Fanfiction was like 4 years behind and completely fucking unplugged, whereas the base of the show itself is more integrated now in these dynamics than any attempt at meta episodes back then were.

old days it took one goddamn episode of dreaming for people to 1. start talking about Freud and 2. pretend the whole everything after that was some Freudian masterpiece even when, if it were, it would have been an entire avalanche of dropped balls. But two seasons of direct citations and literal manifest avatar-bodies of Jungian psychology elements and it’s hard to pull more than a peep out of the fandom about it because they’re too busy yelling about tulpas or sirens from before most of the people around here hit puberty.

𝓕 𝓤 𝓒 𝓚

furthermore why does anyone that idolize season 7 for what they think fits their bill think season 15 is gonna end how they want when they’ve been taking the piss out of season 7 over and over and over and over again IN THE TEXT as being dumb as SHIT

𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕋𝔼𝕏𝕋

WHY SET YOURSELF UP FOR DISAPPOINTMENT

TO WIN TEMPORARY ARGUMENTS? THAT YOU’RE ACTUALLY LOSING FROM START TO FINISH?

actually you know what

rolling back to the whole “empty/subtextless stuff making people bust their ass” seems to be what you miss. Saying, “I miss empty, shallow, shitty writing” doesn’t really sound as good though so we change “what I like” into “this is talentless trash” it postures better, but it seems to be the people who have objectively fucking refused core tenets the show has evolved over the last 7 years, most explicitly the last 3-4, and absolutely refused to soak them in the form they deliver in. And they’re mad. Because it isn’t hollow. They can’t run around in fucking blank space and plug absolute horse shit into the voids and then posture like they’re supreme in this noncommital wasteland. Because everything’s built out and structured in and loud as fuck and people are debating the actual installed and even dogmatically cited work of philosophers driving the ideology of the show now and they can’t get away from it, and/or actually have to pay attention to the whole show and think about it all as a picture instead of the parts they want, so it’s “bad.”

I just sensed like 50 readers shoving their foot into that shoe. Good.

Jesus christ I’m pretty sure that’s what it is in hindsight after yelling all of this. These characters can’t be used as sock puppets anymore that people can win bullshit arguments unless they literally delete the entire principle of the modern show -- and this goes for MULTIPLE lanes really, each in their own way -- so now it’s “bad.” And that’s just not how this works.

#supernatural #spn #rant #vent #mildew

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enchanted-prose · 4 years

Text

#19 Gamble

“cat why are you posting everything right now?”

because i have this finished and it’s not fair to my pals if i only have the whole thing published on one platform

Word count: 5,007

Characters: Jaron, Roden, King Oberson (original character), Ayvar (original character), Feall Cormeach (original character), Renlyn Karise (original character)

Notes: Feall’s man bun. that’s all

Enjoy!

It was almost sad, seeing the great hall devoid of the grandeur of Blackberry Night. Sadder still knowing that Renlyn Karise hadn’t been able to see the fruits of her labor. Jaron had no intention of shedding any tears. Today, Feall was declared recovered.

There were questions demanding answers, and Jaron was determined to get as many of them as he could.

He’d taken a morning climb down the castle wall to test his leg, and managed to avoid slipping. Mott wasn’t impressed and immediately escorted him back inside.

At least Jaron managed to get the climb in, if Mott had known sooner, Jaron was certain he would’ve been locked in his own office. He would’ve been forced to tend to the stack of papers on his desk he’d been avoiding since the Faola attacked him.

The Faola would’ve been a fool to stick around Drylliad. According to Roden, the Faola’s sleeves were split on both sides, marking him as a thief with no loyalties.

Making him an easy target for everyone bigger than him.

Even if the sleeves were stitched, the slits would still be recognizable.

Jaron asked Roden multiple times if he’d seen the Faola darting around town, almost trying to find a reason to free Renlyn. The Faola was responsible for the attack, carried the name Mireldis Thay, and lusted for revenge with enough fury to commit treason. Renlyn, though passionate, carried a quiet fury. If the Faola made an appearance on the streets, Jaron would either have to let Renlyn go, or recognize that there were more people determined to slaughter Feall.

Everytime it seemed like the situation was clearing, Jaron found a flaw.

Tapping his fingers together, Jaron slipped past the columned corridor leading down to the great hall.

Think, think, think.

Imogen would’ve told him to make a list, but he had no paper. He’d have to remember his list until he returned to his office.

Feall didn’t recognize the Faola during that very first attack by a personal name, but by other aliases, and even then the Faola had been used as a name for the entire group rather than the individual. The attack only resulted in stolen goods, but no deaths. It took a note to Oberson requesting Feall be handed over to the Faola to bring the circle to Mireldis Thay. There was a second attack on Feall, and that was when Jaron took responsibility for finding the culprit. Jaron and Imogen realized that Jolly likely knew more than he let on, the third attack happened, and Renlyn was confined to her apartments.

It would be a busy day.

He needed to know if Roden had seen the Faola snatching loaves of bread to throw to the woman with no eyes in lower Drylliad.

He’d then know what to do with Ayvar.

And then he’d confront Feall.

Every word Feall said was honest, but that was the catch.

Each word he said didn’t equal everything that actually happened.

Jaron snatched a steaming iced bun from a passing plate, and shoved it into his mouth. The bun burned his tongue, but he continued chewing anyways. The sweetness justified the bun’s abuse.

Saints, he should’ve grabbed one for Roden.

There was a second captain’s quarters hidden near the back of Jaron’s throne. Roden rarely used it, and Jaron didn’t blame him. It was dusty and sneaky, meant to hide a bodyguard while the king sat upon the throne. However, Jaron still knocked on the door, just in case Roden was hiding inside.

No sign of any type of movement, not even from the few mice that managed to escape Imogen’s cat’s deadly claws.

He wiped his icing stained fingers on the leg of his trousers, and marched off to the kitchens.

No sign of Roden there either. Odd, considering that the kitchens were among Roden’s favorite places. He was the kitchen staff’s favorite and always managed to get his hands on a meal when he visited.

It was a cozy place. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling and a dome shaped oven crackled in the corner. Jaron glanced around, making sure nobody was looking at him, and snagged a vanilla bean from where it hung. A part of him wanted to know if it tasted as good as it smelled.

Previous experiences with biting into other drying herbs reminded him that it wasn’t worth it to bite into the bean.

He pocketed the dried vanilla, and spun on his heels to exit. The kitchen door slammed shut. Jaron glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “I beat you to all of the iced buns, didn’t save a single one.”

“I got lemon tarts this morning, so I’m not too disappointed,” Roden snipped. He tugged at the sleeves of his dark shirt. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at my office, I woke up early and-“

“You don’t need to excuse yourself, I’m not mad. Although I will be mad if I don’t get the answer I want.”

“I’ll do my best to answer.”

His palms grew sweaty. It was wrong to hope for a specific answer, but Jaron couldn’t stop himself from wishing. He wanted to be right. He wanted to know that Renlyn wasn’t responsible for the various attacks. The more he wondered, the more his hopes grew.

“Have you seen our Faola friend around?” Jaron asked. He stepped out of the kitchens, knowing Roden would follow. “Any sign?”

Was it wrong how much his heart sped up?

Was it wrong that he wanted so badly to be wrong for the first time in ages?

Renlyn had been a friend to him and the others in her own way. Her biting words kept them dancing on their toes, and searching for ways to match her prowess.

It was hard to believe that somebody could smile and get excited about a hand carved wardrobe while plotting to behead another friend in her quiet moments.

“I’m sorry, Jaron,” Roden shook his head. “I haven’t seen any movement from the Faola, especially not after that night. I’ve seen the others, if that helps. They’re rallying behind a new face.”

“Masked or unmasked?” said Jaron, forcing himself to laugh.

He had no excuse to release Renlyn from her new prison.

“Unmasked, calls himself Ulspierre. He’s Ayvar’s brother. Very unsettling.”

Though now he had good reason to release a scarlet haired thief.

Jaron clasped his hands behind his back and paused. He’d walked a little too quickly, leaving Roden behind. “Thank you, I suppose, for telling me. It wasn’t what I wanted but I can’t control the truth.”

“What does it mean for Renlyn?” Roden asked.

“She’ll remain in her chambers until we can get a genuine confirmation of her identity, and I’ll decide her fate from there.”

“There’s something not quite right about Renlyn, and I’m not sure why.”

Jaron pushed the door open to Ayvar’s tower room, bracing himself for the hundreds of spiraling steps before him. “Jolly was completely clear and completely misleading all at once.”

“Exactly,” Roden nodded. “I’ve been around Jolly for ages these past few weeks, and he’s really quite blunt when he wants to be. He’s never brought up Mireldis Thay around me.”

“Did you ever ask?”

“Well, no, I try to keep work and my friends separate.”

“But I’m your friend and I work with you,” Jaron paused on the stairs, heaving in a breath. “By the Saints, why did we have to put Ayvar in the tower?”

“Because she’s a woman and it’s not respectful to her to leave her in the dungeon with watery eyed criminals.”

“Have you been reading Amarinda’s romance novels again?”

“That was a one time thing, and the answer’s no.”

Ayvar’s tower room was hardly better than her cell in the dungeons. She had a cot, blanket, and clean water. Additionally, she was completely alone, save for the guard posted outside of her room.

“Good morning, I hope you didn’t try to use your hair as an escape rope,” Jaron said. “Hello? Ayvar?”

“Captain Harlowe?” The guard gripped his halberd like it was the only thing holding him together.

“I can answer questions too.”

“Your Majesty?”

The room was completely empty, and the sight of Ayvar’s folded blanket made Jaron’s rabbit heart begin to race. Did she die in the night?

Silenced to keep whatever song she sang under wraps?

“Where’s Ayvar?” Roden demanded. “There was a prisoner here, soldier, and you were under strict orders to never let her out of your sight!” “Sir, I, uh,” the guard bowed to Roden, realized his mistake, and then bowed to Jaron. “The prisoner was requested for an audience, King Oberson himself came to escort her to a private location.”

“Do you know where he’d be?” Jaron asked.

“No, sir, I’m sorry. Sir. But I know where the prisoner was taken; you’ll find her in Lord Feall’s chambers, supervised by two other guards. We made a promise not to let her out of the castle without your approval, sir.”

Roden groaned, “You were told not to let her out of the cell, actually.”

“It’s not like he could’ve said no to a king,” said Jaron. He suddenly had another reason to add to another list. “We needed to talk to Feall anyway.”

“But the stairs, Jaron, the stairs.”

“You need to work off those lemon tarts anyways, I knock two things out of my schedule and you don’t get soft in the middle. It’s a win-win situation!”

Although Jaron secretly dreaded the long descent down.

If he forced a joke or two, he wouldn’t have to explain his frustrations. Explain how much he hated the idea of locking Renlyn in the dungeon because she didn’t have an alibi for the night he’d been attacked.

Silence meant he could think.

He could paw through his list.

Feall didn’t know the Faola’s individual identity during the first attack. Jolly arrived in Drylliad for the festival. Oberson grew afraid because rumors spiraled about Mireldis Thay. A letter demanding Feall reached Oberson, confirming that Mireldis Thay was searching for Feall, or at least someone wearing her name was. The second attack on Feall. Regar’s arrival. Row’s pleas. The third attack. Renlyn’s arrest.

Regar’s arrival.

Jaron hobbled down the stairs as fast as he could, his leg beginning to scream. “I can’t go this fast!”

Roden thundered past, taking the steps by pairs rather than one at a time. “Sure you can, Jaron! Just admit that I’m faster than you!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Chicken!”

Feall’s chamber was on the opposite end of the castle, tucked several floors beneath Jaron’s office. Somebody was having a conversation behind Feall’s closed door.

“I went up and down the tower stairs looking for you Ayvar, so Feall, I’m sorry for not knocking,” Jaron said, pushing his way into the chamber. “Though ask my permission the next time you want to move a prisoner of the crown.”

The chamber was plain, a standard guest room. White painted walls, canopy bed, simple desk, fireplace. Although this room couldn’t be plain with Ayvar’s brilliant hair falling over her shoulders. She wore manacles, and was flanked by two guards.

“Good morning, your Majesty,” Ayvar bowed. The chains on her wrists clinked together. “I’m sorry finding me was such a chore, but it seems that I don’t have that much control over what I get to do these days.”

“A price you have to pay for breaking the law,” Jaron countered. “It’s almost better that you’re here with Feall, I have important matters to discuss with you both.”

Feall was standing, the bandages around his torso visible through his linen shirt. His curling hair was tied in a bun at the apex of his head. He didn’t look like a liar.

“I sent a page to request your presence,” Feall bowed. “But you were nowhere to be found and I needed to speak with Ayvar.”

“You should’ve waited for my permission.”

“The matter was urgent.”

“Explain the matter, then,” Roden growled. “You answer to Carthya’s king while you’re on Carthyan lands.”

The crisp morning became stale in an instant. Feall took a step back, while Roden casually set his hand on his sword. The hammering in Jaron’s ears was too loud. His heart raced and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Too many things could go wrong, too many things. Feall could attack him. He could kick at his bad leg and escape. Jaron had no idea what would happen if he received another blow to the leg. What he would-

He’d be alright. Roden was in the room with him.

And besides, Jaron trusted Feall.

They were at least acquaintances. Possibly even friends.

“I wanted to apologize,” Feall winced as he stood a little straighter. “Ayvar tried to save me all those weeks ago, she’s been imprisoned for an unjust cause, and I felt like it rested on my shoulders.”

Jaron crossed his arms, “Ayvar, is this true?”

“I don’t see why I’d need to lie,” she said. “Lord Feall is telling the truth.”

“Your patched friend tried to kill him again.”

“And apparently he kicked you, your Majesty. Please understand, the Faola was built based on a legend, and unfortunately our cause was used for an ulterior motive. We never wanted to harm the king.”

“I find it so interesting that you’ll still beg your cause,” Jaron tilted his head. “Stealing is still a crime no matter what you do with what was stolen.”

He’d never admit that deep in his heart, he would’ve taken the same path. Stealing from the nobles sitting before their flickering fires to give to the match girl freezing in the streets. But as the king, he couldn’t say something like that.

So he kept it to himself.

Ayvar entwined her fingers together. “Is there anything you want to ask of me?”

“Not exactly,” Jaron said. “My answers have been found, no matter how disappointing. Will you return to banditry when you’re eventually freed?”

“Do you already have plans to arrest me?”

“I don’t but Captain Harlowe might. He’ll get awfully bored now that things are beginning to die down.”

“Then you’ll have to forgive me for not answering.”

“Take her back to a holding cell, she’ll know her fate by this afternoon,” said Jaron.

The guards beside Ayvar nodded. She bowed her head once again, muttering her gratitude as she was escorted out of the room.

With her out of the way, it would be much easier for Jaron to be himself. He couldn’t allow himself to look like a fool in front of one of his subjects. There was no telling what would come out of his confrontation with Feall; he could appear very foolish if things didn’t go the way Jaron wanted them to.

“Sit down, Feall, we have a lot to talk about and I don’t want to strain you with your wound,” Jaron gestured to the simple chair beside Feall’s desk.

“If you think I need to take a seat, then you should too,” Feall said. “You were injured too, your Majesty.”

Jaron frowned, “I can stand if I like.”

Feall grimaced as he sat down, and he looked to Jaron. “I will do my best to say what you want me to say.”

“But I don’t want to hear what you want to tell me, I need to know the full truth.”

“Yes, yes you do. Where would you like me to start? Can I ask you a question first?”

“I suppose you can, unless you’re asking me to leave, in which I won’t.”

“Your Majesty, is it true that you located Mireldis Thay?” Feall’s face was devoid of any emotion. “Is she here in the castle?”

“The gossip made its way here too. I currently have our suspected Mireldis Thay kept in a safe cell. However, it seems that you have more history with her than I thought. There’s something more than a good old fashioned ‘I want to kill you for your title’ happening with her, isn’t there?”

To Jaron’s surprise, Feall nodded. “You never asked, so I never spoke of it.”

“Why not?”

“There are things I don’t feel comfortable thinking of, let alone discussing it.”

“Then I hope you can forgive me,” Jaron frowned. “Your comfort put my wife in harm’s way, and it’s not something I’ll ever forget.”

Imogen. The most valued person in his life.

He’d slaved away in order to survive, but surviving isn’t living.

Imogen inspired him to live.

He didn’t want to think of a world where he didn’t have her hand to hold onto. A world where he didn’t hear her lectures each time he climbed out of their bedroom window instead of taking the stairs.

That world was cold and desolate, but a fantasy.

Imogen had almost suffered the consequences of a battle she’d never even heard of.

“Is the queen hurt?” Asked Feall, almost managing to leap to his feet. He didn’t make it very far before he pressed his hand against the bandage around his torso.

Jaron scowled. His face was made of stone lines. “Imogen is fine. But you have to be completely honest with me Feall.”

Every story had a beginning, middle, and an end. They were long and they were short. Jaron smirked; he’d canceled almost every one of his meetings later that afternoon. He would hear every detail Feall gave if it meant Jaron stayed there the whole night.

However, he wasn’t sure if Roden had the same drive.

“How do you know Mireldis Thay?” Jaron crossed his arms. “You’re here as a guest in my home, not a prisoner. You’re my friend, you have no reason to lie to me.”

Feall looked down at his hands, his shoulders going soft.

It was unsettling, watching a knight of Feall’s stature shy away from telling a story.

He finally heaved in a breath, and began his tale. “As you know, there are five lesser kings in Bymar who answer to King Norman. King Graer Thay led Idunn Craich, and took me under his wing after my father fell in a skirmish with Gelynians. I became his ward; an example to his children. Mireldis and I knew each other long before-”

“You knew Mireldis Thay as a child and you never told us!” Roden snapped. “Do you-?”

“Hush, this isn’t even the good part of the story,” said Jaron.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Feall cleared his throat. “I became the, ah, man of the household when Graer returned to the mainland to train with King Norman’s household. I was- I was sixteen at the time.”

There had been many times when Jaron had gone to the crypt where his family was buried. He hid there among stone coffins, almost praying a spectre would appear just so he could say goodbye.

He hadn’t begged for an unholy apparition in years.

The look on Feall’s face faltered. His stern squint widened.

Almost like he’d seen a spectre. Almost like he was seeing the ghost of a person he never said farewell to.

“Take your time,” Jaron murmured.

“Queen Ingrid Thay took care of most matters, I handled the rest. Mireldis grew jealous, claiming I’d taken both her mother and her father from her,” said Feall. He rubbed his forehead. “She sulked, so I ignored her. I grew capable of managing funds and trade under Ingrid’s- under Ingrid’s guidance. I gained favor, Mireldis did not.

“Two years later, Graer hadn’t returned, and the Avenian war broke out. Queen Danika called for every man who could fight, I was of age, and I answered her call. It was the last time I saw Mireldis as a princess. I was fighting in Gelyn when Ingrid wrote to me, explaining that Graer had been conspiring with Avenian generals to betray King Norman, and that the sixteen other noble houses extracted punishment. Graer and all those who followed him deserted the next day.

“I returned to Bymar, but not immediately to Idunn Craich. King Norman and Queen Danika invited me to spend a season with them, and I did. I returned to Idunn Craich to help Ingrid, and once I saw fit, I returned to the mainland. There was a series of bandit attacks near the Gelynian border that following summer, attacking both Gelynians and Bymarians.

“My orders were to find out if the attacks were correlated, and then to stop the perpetrator if they were. It took months of tracking to eventually recognize a pattern; the attacks occurred near mountain passes, and the survivors often told wild stories about trolls attacking them with scythes.”

Jaron didn’t hide his snort, “Were they trolls with scythes?”

“Luckily, no. They were Gelynian miners and sheep herders who were trying to gather fortune,” Feall explained. “Eventually, we were able to map out the attacks and find the epicenter, which led us to a tiny cottage in between both Gelyn and Bymar. I saw a girl inside. She would’ve been Mireldis’s age, but when we returned to arrest the bandits, they were nowhere in sight. The girl left with them. We found her body settled in with the victims from another attack. I assumed she was Mireldis. She’d always had hair that lingered past her knees, and the corpse I saw had the same.

“I continued serving the king in protecting the Bymarian-Gelynian border, until I was called north. A new bandit appeared, stealing from caravans but never with more than ten others. Called himself the Black Knight, though now it seems that he is in fact a she. The Black Knight vanished, eventually turning to terrorize south Bymar by leaving Various men and women tied to trees. It was much harder to track her there, as the pattern often extended into Gelyn. Earned herself the name of Shrike. She vanished before I could take her in, which turned out to be because she was anticipating my arrival in Drylliad protecting King Oberson.”

The memories were coming back. Jaron remembered the exchange between Feall and the Faola. Between Feall and Mireldis Thay. He’d heard Feall throw out both of those names; nobody knew that Mireldis Thay was wearing a mask.

“And you figured out that the Black Knight, Shrike, and the Faola were Mireldis Thay when she sent that letter to Feall, demanding that he hand you over to her,” Roden frowned.

Jaron could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. He was working his brain too hard.

“Exactly,” Feall rubbed at his forehead again. “It really came together when I almost died. Twice.”

“Congratulations, escaping death multiple times is a requirement for being a person I speak to for more than a few weeks,” said Jaron.

Feall’s story was wide, it dragged in several other people. Honest people, like Queen Danika and King Norman. Jaron knew they gave truth and expected truth from those they brought into their court.

He’d have to think about Feall’s words.

It frustrated him knowing that Feall knew Mireldis as a child, and yet, this factor was never discussed.

Was this how Imogen’s cat felt when it saw a mouse run across a kitchen floor after they’d hunted tirelessly for it?

Jaron tapped his toes, stacking the information. Think, think, think. There was a detail staring him in the face, but he wasn’t sure just what it was. Something big and important. Arguably important, that is. If it was so vital, Jaron wouldn’t have forgotten it.

“Did you have a good relationship with Mireldis?” Jaron asked, fighting the urge to pace.

“I- well, yes. We were playmates at one point, but things have obviously changed since then,” said Feall. He twirled the strings of his shirt around his fingers. “Your Majesty, would it be, ah, nevermind. Sorry, sir.”

“Spit it out, Feall. No point in not asking for something, you don’t know what I’ll say.”

“Would allowing me to visit Mireldis be out of the question? I want to see her, I want to- I want-”

“To apologize?”

“To ask her why she hates me so.”

Everyone always wanted answers. They always wanted to know why people did things that they did, especially if those things involved people getting hurt.

It wasn’t enough to just accept that maybe some people chose differently.

Jaron knew Feall was hoping to find an answer. He wanted to know that there was a sliver of goodness in Mireldis Thay. He wanted to know that something caused her years of banditry and assault. It could excuse her actions. Jaron recognized the naiveté in Feall’s plea, he wanted to fix Mireldis.

But not everybody had an underlying just reason for what they did. Bevin Conner claimed to be a patriot and then murdered Jaron’s family. Devlin, the former pirate king, led a life of piracy in the name of ambition.

It was all too likely that Mireldis Thay hated Feall and tried to kill him because she could.

“What makes you think Mireldis would want to see you?” Jaron asked, crossing his arms.

Feall cracked a bitter smile, “I don’t think she ever would want to see me, but I want to see her. I’ll forego any danger in the name of justice.”

“Then allow Roden and I to accompany you, in case Mireldis decides on a whim to snap your neck.”

“If she can snap my neck, I think we should be concerned about what she’d do to you.”

“I can hold my own, Feall,” said Jaron. “What happened when I was with you was just a lucky blow.”

Or was it?

The Faola had kicked at his leg rather than running him through with a sword. Jaron was lucky to have walked away with his life.

The kick to his leg was a demonstration of power. Mireldis Thay could’ve killed him, but she didn’t.

Just like her proximity to Imogen could’ve given her a window to kill the most important woman in Carthya, but she never used the opportunity.

Extending a hand, Jaron nodded. They’d go to see Mireldis Thay. Feall could confirm her identity, confirm that Renlyn Karise was just a false name. She’d finally display a show of emotion rather than keeping her same deadpan expression, and Jaron would gloat for a moment before deciding her fate.

He had no intention of following through with the treason charge. Renlyn would be valuable in the future.

It was a stupid move to execute a future ally.

“Jaron, something’s been on my mind,” Roden said. He’d fallen behind by a few steps. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the attacks on Feall.”

“Ah, thinking can be quite dangerous for you,” Jaron countered. “Every time you think of something, I think of something, and suddenly everything’s on fire.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Are you planning on setting the forest on fire?”

“No! I’m thinking about-,” Roden burst. His face colored as his voice echoed around the corridor. “I was there, after Feall’s second attack. I drove them away and took Feall back to-“

Jaron motioned for the guards outside Renlyn’s door to come closer. “Do you want Feall to thank you?” He asked, and then turned his attention to the two guards. “Has she done anything foolish? Is she still in there? Any cursing or vase-throwing?”

One of the guards shook his head, “No, sir. The lady within hasn’t made a sound, she’s received her first meal already. Didn’t say a word.”

“We thought she was dead for a few minutes,” confessed the second guard. “It’s not natural, being able to sit so quietly for that long.”

“Ah, that’ll change,” Jaron said. “We’ve come to visit her. Brought her an old friend.”

“Jaron, please, it’s really important,” Roden tried, he held his hand up to keep the guards from butting in.

“Ignore that hand, we’re talking. Have-“

“Feall wasn’t the only victim on the night of the second attack! He-!”

“I know, Roden, I heard the entire ordeal and then read the-!”

“Mott, Tobias, and-!”

“Stop interrupting me!”

“Not until you listen!”

Picking fights with Roden was too easy, but Jaron hated it when Roden did the fight picking. Those fights were usually heated and ended with fists flying, and Jaron had no intention of getting a fist to the face and-

“Oh Saints,” Jaron pressed both of his hands into his hair. “Oh no, no, no no. Feall, don’t open that-!”

Unfortunately for Jaron’s dignity, Feall opened the door to Renlyn Karise’s room.

The important detail he’d forgotten came rushing back, triggered by Roden’s attempts to point it out. It ruined everything.

Renlyn Karise had been the fourth victim during the Faola’s second attack on Feall. She’d handled the situation all too well, bounding back to tending to Imogen the very next day. It made it easy to forget that she’d been kneeling on the ground with Tobias and Mott while Feall fought for his life.

“Do you get what I was trying to say?” Roden snapped. “Renlyn is the reason Feall didn’t lose his head that night!”

“Don’t remind me,” Jaron rubbed his temples. He’d never hear the end of this one.

“Is- is this a joke?” Feall called from Renlyn’s room.

Jaron didn’t have the patience to stay to hear Renlyn’s stifled snicker.

He didn’t like it when he was wrong, and he’d been wrong in one of the worst ways.

He’d arrested a woman without full thought, and let Mireldis Thay escape.

“Get Ayvar, Roden, we’re going to fix this,” Jaron growled. “The longer we wait, the farther she’s run away.”

“And what will we do about Renlyn?” Roden asked.

“Nothing, I don’t want to deal with her just yet. We have a bandit to catch. Renlyn can sit in her gloating glory until we’ve got the right Mireldis Thay sitting in the dungeon.”

“This would be our third suspected Mireldis Thay, maybe we should give this fight up.”

“I’m so glad you can count that high! I don’t care if we catch a thousand false Thays, I will not accept this defeat!”

#the ascendance series #the streets of drylliad #feall cormeach has the best hair in the series #prince jaron #roden #ocs #fic friday

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