#the theme wasn’t mine I’m just bad at phrasing things in a way that makes sense
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some actually well put together propaganda for @lemon-demon-oc-tournament featuring a slideshow that took an embarrassing amount of time to make
#the theme wasn’t mine I’m just bad at phrasing things in a way that makes sense#oc: cecil nelson#kaleidoskull project
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Here within these walls (Part two)
Lord Dimitrescu and reader.
A/n: Thank you for all the support shown on the first part. I’m going to continue this series over the course of a few chapters, so I hope you all enjoy the storyline I’ve crafted. And I know the first part revolves around the sons, but not to worry, we have plenty of chapters to spend time with the Lord.
Warnings: These are bad people doing bad things, there’s bound to be a little violence. Distressing themes.
Words: 4136.
'This one is mine.'
That sentence repeated itself inside your head. It swirled inside your mind like a hurricane, not letting you divert your attention elsewhere, even as you were being pushed along. With one sentence someone staked their claim on you, stripping you of the little freedom you had, and causing all others to obey. It was devastating how little say you had in the matter.
All three of the brothers escorted you to your new room. They guided you up the stairs and through twisting hallways until eventually you reached your destination. Apparently they interpreted the phrase 'any one will do' into 'as far away from the exit as humanly possible' since they had selected a room hidden away at the very edge of the residence. Given the distance from the main entrance, it would be nearly impossible to navigate yourself back unaccompanied.
The room itself was something to gawk at. And gawk you did. Even though you had already become accustomed to the rich aesthetic of the castle, somehow every room was a new slap in the face. Perhaps it was the constant reminder that you would never afford anything half as grand, or the stark difference between the castle and the village. People were living in broken houses while an oversized castle hosted four... Well, five, including yourself.
It held the same elegance as the previous rooms, providing an old fashioned four poster bed with curtains featuring intricate designs dressing the pillars, polished wooden floors underneath plush white carpets, and even included a balcony with a view sealed behind locked glass doors. You could sell your entire existence and still not have enough to amount half the cost of this room. Truly these people had nothing better to do than flaunt their own wealth to satisfy the humongous ego they bore.
Two of them trailed behind as you entered the room while the one leftover lead you to the edge of the bed. It was the younger one with traces of red in his hair. Daniel, you think his name was. It was hard to keep track. Besides the hair colour and the necklaces they wore, appearance wise, they weren't that different. He sat down on the bed and ushered you to do the same, even going as far as patting the space beside him, thinking it would be more inviting. It wasn't. But you humoured him anyway.
You sat down, instantly feeling yourself sink into the plush covers. It provided you with just enough comfort to ease up. Cassandros laid back on the bed, staring up to the ceiling. "When can we hunt them again, I'm bored." He twiddled his sickle in his hand, turning the bloody weapon like it was some sort of toy. "Wouldn't you like that? Didn't you enjoy being my prey?"
You ignored him, eyes stayed fixed ahead of you. It was impossible to know where to look. Was it customary to make eye contact with your captors as they were patching you up? They would have to forgive you for not reading up on the proper etiquette of being whisked away against your will and being forced to participate in a game of deadly hide and seek. But just because you weren't looking at them, didn't mean that weren't looking at you. Perhaps it was better not to make eye contact as three separate pairs of eyes dug their way under your skin.
"It saddens me that we can't play with our new pet," Belmont said. Choosing to stand rather than sit, he walked around the room. "You heard father, no one touches them." Daniel stopped. "Except to fix that wound." Belmont sighed. "You can continue."
It was incredibly awkward having two of them watch while one was tending to you. Instead of going off and doing their own thing they favoured watching you squirm under their brothers hold. Daniel kept a loose hand on your arm as he dosed the rag with clear liquid. You had no idea what it was. You felt yourself retract from his hold, which did not go unnoticed. Daniel tightened his grip, pulling you towards him. "Love, you need to stay still so I can heal you. Don't you trust me?" Avoiding the obvious answer of 'no', you held your tongue and leaned into him.
You prematurely winced, expecting the substance to sting harshly. It wasn't too far fetched to think the medicine they used would also inflict pain. But as the cloth came into contact with your skin, you felt at ease. An unsettling calm sensation seeped through your body. It caused you to relax, letting your shoulders slope as all tension drained out. Daniel laughed, mumbling something under his breath as he continued to apply pressure on your wound, you could feel his stare never leaving the puncture.
"There we go, darling, all patched up. See, it wasn't so bad." You looked back at your shoulder. Sure enough the wound had healed. But it didn't just heal, it had completely vanished. All traces of torn flesh and spilt blood were removed from your body entirely. You couldn't believe it. That was insane. Your disbelief rendered you curious, going as far as pulling at the skin to make sure it was attached properly.
You had to admit, whatever that substance was, it was really handy. Even though it had patched you up, you still felt the need to be careful. It worked on smaller wounds, sure. But you highly doubted it would work on something severe like a disembodied hand. That would just be ridiculous. Since the sons had carried out their fathers orders, they had no need to stay. Belmont declared that the deed was done and guided his brothers out. Cassandros followed first, making a one-off comment about if there was another scar they would need to stay to patch it up, and then Daniel trailing behind them, blowing you a kiss before finally closing the door.
Now you were alone. And it stayed that way for next few days. The door stayed permanently closed and no one spoke a single word to you. When you came to this village you were expecting a quiet retreat away from your life. Not to be held up in a castle with four monsters. If this experience had been advertised on the holiday brochures, then you would have thought twice before setting up this little escapade. But no. You just had to fall in love with the frosted scenery, the quaint little village, and the mysterious lore surrounding it. The phrase curiosity killed the cat never applied itself so perfectly until now.
I mean, it could be worse. You could be dead by now. Either due to the storm or by one of your gracious hosts. If not for the Lord and his orders, there would be nothing stopping the brothers from devouring you on sight. But then again, that itself brought up more questions. He must have a reason to spare your life. There was no way in hell a creature of such high calibre would reframe from feasting just because they felt like it. There was no soul inside to be swayed. Or maybe that was the case. For all you knew, you had caught the attention of the Lord and had peeked his intertest. An unremarkable specimen attracting the unforeseen affection of a beast, using the excuse of you being the last to survive to keep you around.
You shook those thoughts from your head. Please, that was just silly. There was no need to fill your head with deluded fantasies. You needed to think realistically. A small scoff slipped past your lips. That's laughable. Trying to think realistically in a situation embedded with mythical creatures and people who can turn themselves into bugs. It really did sound like a fantasy.
There was one thing about this experience that puzzled you endlessly: The letters. It wasn't that bad, at first. It was a surprise to suddenly hear knocking then see something being slipped under your door, a shadow disappearing with it. It peeked your curiosity. So you went over, finding a posh envelope on the floor. Daniel, the one who you had presumed was the most harmless, had been writing you love letters. The sort young lovers would privately exchange under secret glances and hidden meetings. Even though this self proclaimed love was one-sided, it did not stop him writing as if he knew you intricately. He addressed you as a courter would, complementing your appearance and asking about your day. Then he would list all the little things he knew about you. You assumed most of them were guesses, but they were strangely accurate. It could be considered romantic, if you had not seen him committing murder the day prior.
You didn't think much about it, didn't think you needed to. So you just slotted the letter in an empty draw and continued trying to ignore everything. But it didn't stop with just one. They started to get more frequent. Almost every hour you received a new letter, each more concerning than the last. They went into detail about how lovely you were, how cute you looked cowering in fear, and how euphoric it would be to watch you bleed out. Your stomach churned just from holding the damned thing.
They just kept getting more graphic, and in the end, you stopped reading them altogether. Instead letting the collection of letters pile up at your doorstep. Daniel didn't seem to notice as his letters bumped against each other, that or he didn't care, still continuing to write them despite your lack of interest.
The night came sooner than you thought. The little light the village possessed drained from the outside and was replaced by the warm glow of candle light. You eyed the clock in the corner of the room, watching the second hand as it ticked upward. Mentally counting down before the final moments.
The clock chimed. Your eyes moved towards the door. Any second now, another letter would be slid under and added to the pile. But as the clock continued to chime, and as your patience ran thin, there was no indication of a letter being delivered. There was a few minuets of silence, followed by a sigh. You had become so accustomed to this routine, having it be thrown off was a few steps short of disappointing. You waited a few more minuets, wondering what could have happened. Perhaps he was running late? Or maybe ran out of creative ways to express his twisted love? You hoped he hadn't gotten into trouble for his efforts.
No. No, absolutely not. You shook your head ferociously. You were not going to start developing an emotional attachment to these creatures. The last thing you wanted was to do was see this things as somewhat human.
Three brisk knocks were heard. Your ears perked up, bringing your attention to the door. Still nothing was slid underneath, yet you could see a shadow standing before your door. They just stood there waiting. Another round was heard. It was quickly drawn to your attention that this person was waiting for you. Getting up off the bed you made your way over to the door. Your hand reached for the handle, but quickly retracted itself as instead the door opened for you. Tired of waiting, Belmont greeted you. Before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he answered. "Father sent for me, I'm escorting you to dinner."
"Dinner?" You ask. This seemed out of character for them. Two days of silence and then a sudden invitation to dinner? Were they been nice to you only to confuse your further? It was hard to tell what they viewed you as. It swayed between a guest and a meal so frequently, you couldn't even distinguish the difference anymore. Belmont leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head to the side. "Ah, they finally speak. I was starting to think all you knew was screaming and whimpering." You narrowed your eyes at him. Sure, you hadn't said much since you got here, but that didn't mean you didn't know how. His snarky comment made you reconsider. "I think I might just stay here actually."
"Aren't you hungry?"
"No." You lied. The prospect of eating had completely slipped your mind. You had been held up in a room for almost two days, of course you were hungry. But due to the stress and panic you felt, you had been neglecting your basic needs. Eating seemed like a trivial thing in comparison with what you dealt with. As if on cue, and to punish you for lying, your stomach growled. Internally you tensed. The vampire before you grinned, giving you a knowing smile. "Come on, can't have fathers latest meal going stale on us."
"Hang on a moment, meal?" You question. After all that kerfuffle of healing your shoulder and being assigned a room, they were still planning to eat you. What a waste of time. That's what this was. They were luring you out of your room with the promise of food just to trap you. Well, you saw right through this plan, and in no way were you going to be a part of it. You placed your hand back on the handle, wanting nothing more than to shut it in his face. "Sorry, I'm not interested."
Belmont placed his hand on the door, stopping it before you could attempt to close it. He took a step forward, walking into the room, causing you to move back. "Don't worry, we're not eating you..." He leant down towards you, mere inches away for your face, he whispered. "... At least, not tonight." You pushed him away, causing him to cackle. Without waiting for him you exited the room, deciding to find the dining hall for yourself. Against your better judgement, you chose to trust his words. You were just about able to escape once, right? If anything happened, all you needed to do was run. Besides, maybe now you'll finally get an answer out of him as why you're still alive.
Soon enough, you found yourself turned around, not knowing where you had previously came from. All the hallways in this castle looked alike, and you swore you had passed the same white vase at least three times. It felt like you were going around in circles. At this rate, you would never find your way out. "Need someone to guide you?" Belmont appeared out of nowhere, scaring the living daylights out of you. You could hear him laughing at you as you steadied your heartbeat. After he had had his fun, Belmont extended his arm out to you, offering to walk you there. Begrudgingly you agreed, but refused to take his arm.
The two of you didn't exchange any more words as you were lead towards the dining room. You smelt the food before you saw it. Alluring aromas that travelled the hallway of the castle, causing your mouth to water at the sheer thought of eating. You stepped into the dining hall and was instantly bombarded with a massive feast laid before you. Food coated the table, seemingly far too much for anyone to eat. A generous selection of fruits and vegetables were spread out in gold dishes, there were tall glasses at every seat, and two polished candelabras decorated the scene. The centre piece of the feast was a large slab of meat carved up into pieces. It sat in the middle of the table atop a silver tray, drawing your attention towards it. You couldn't make out what it was. The mystery meat taunted you, urging you to take a guess.
Daniel perked up as soon as you entered the room, having been slouching in his seat beforehand. He seemed to have been waiting for you. You swiftly averted eye contact, remembering the collection of letters pilled in your room. Knowing him, he probably wanted to hear your opinion on them. You had a choice few words, but they didn't fall under the category of constructive criticism, so you kept them to yourself. Cassandros wasn't much better off, having been gnawing away at a piece of meat, not having the patience to wait a second longer. Dimitrescu sent him several sharp glances, which he ignored.
The Lord sat at the head of the table, swirling a wine glass of crimson liquid in his hand. His gaze had been targeted on you ever since you stepped foot into the room. It was like a vultures stare, feeling equally dangerous as it was violating. Even as you stood before him, it was impossible to tell what his intention was. "Welcome," He took a sip of his drink, not letting his stare waver. "I was beginning to think you weren't joining us."
You nodded your head, unsure of how to answer. When it was just one of them, you could handle that. But having all four of them gathered again made you feel so powerless.
"Please, have a seat." He gestured at the empty chair at the end of the table. Food had already been served on the plate and the glass was already filled. Belmont came up from behind, pulling out your chair for you. Not knowing what else to do, you took his offer, having him slide it back under. Dimitresu thanked Belmont, causing him to smile proudly. The other brothers rolled their eyes. This was a sight they were accustomed to, and grew even more bored every time they saw it.
"I trust my sons picked out a good room for you, considering you never left." In unison the sons turned in your direction. They eagerly awaited your response, wanting to know if they pleased their father. Dimitrescu held up his hand, signifying he was not done talking. You tensed. Never left? You didn't have the freedom to leave. It wasn't like you hadn't thought about it. Christ, thinking about escaping was the one thing keeping your sanity in check.
"Poor thing, cooped in your room. Must have been so frightening." He took a moments rest to eat from his plate. "The door was unlocked. You could have left at any time." You almost dropped your fork. All this time, the door was unlocked. And you didn't even try to escape once. Something in the back of your mind always told you it was hopeless to even try. He focused his attention back to you, a small smirk growing on his features. "Were you scared something was going to happen if you stepped out?"
You didn't answer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. Instead looking to your plate and the contents it held. Fork in hand you picked up the slice of meat, hesitating before taking a bite. It was extraordinary. You had never tasted anything like it. A succulent flavour that melted in your mouth. You almost felt guilty eating it. Provided with food and a room to stay in, it was already too much then you could ever give. There was certain to be a price to all this, there always was. Yet the Lord was tight lipped when it came to the type of payment.
Trying to play down your euphoria of finally eating something, you bit your tongue and quietly continued with your meal. If you closed your eyes, you could image yourself at a five-star restaurant without the unwanted company. And for a moment, you almost believed it were true. But there were more pressing matters that plagued your mind. All this pretend play as if nothing had happened. As if you were their guest or an old family friend. There was one thing you needed to know.
"Why did you spare me?"
"Has your curiosity reached it's limit, little one?"
You nodded.
"If you must know, it's your blood." That was... surprisingly simple. You would have thought he would have laughed at you for asking such a question. Yet he willingly gave you his answer. "The village hosts many people, suitable to sustain me and my sons, but there is one problem. The Four Lords have planted their hands into the lives of the villagers, interfering with their natural form. I myself am partly to blame for this. Father Mirus gave me these powers, and I intend to use them. As such, I've grown accustomed to their taste. They don't satisfy me as they used to. But you... You're not from the village, are you?" He took another sip from his glass, it seemed to relax him. "Pure, unsoiled, human blood. Much more refined then anything here. I could barley contain myself when I tasted it... That's why I've decided to keep you here, as my personal guest..."
The Lord continued on, going into detail of how you would be taken care of here, as long as you obeyed his rules. You would be given food, clothing, a place to rest, and anything you could ever need. In return for his kindness, you were expected to let him feed whenever he wanted. Allowing him to take what he assumed was his. Even though what he was describing wasn't necessarily bad, there was no easing the sinking feeling in your chest. Everything had been planned out for you, leaving no room for protest. The way he spoke with such conviction almost made you believe you agreed to it. But there was something you couldn't shake.
He wasn't describing a guest, he was describing a pet.
"...One of my servants is awfully gifted in tailoring, I could have them fashion you a new outfit, if it pleases you."
You shook your head. You didn't want to be in his debt more than you already were. He talked about his servants as if they were in the room, yet ever since you entered you hadn't seen anyone remotely normal. You had seen neither head nor hair of any other person in this castle, only being faced with the Lord and his sons. It was hard to believe the servants even existed. Apparently they had prepared this entire meal, yet were not here to serve it. Was that some sort of condition to working here? Never be seen? It seemed absurd. "Where are your servants?" You asked. He had already answered one of your questions, maybe you could ask another.
Dimitrescu stopped eating. He sat his cutlery down and leaned back in his chair. From his pocket he retrieved a cigar and placed it between his lips. Belmont was the first to react, already toasting the foot of the cigar. Apparently he always kept a lighter on him just for occasions like these.
The Lord inhaled slowly, then let the steady stream of smoke escape, taking his time indulging in the bitter taste, purposefully making you wait for his answer. His eyes flickered down before the slab of meat, a new idea crafting inside his head. There were many things about this castle you didn't know, and many more you didn't want to know. Asking such an obvious question deserved an obvious answer. "Maybe you should ask them yourself, their right in front of you."
There was a pause. For a moment your world stopped, and you didn't know why. The air grew thin as you took a breath. Even the candles stopped flickering as you processed exactly what he said.
Your silverware clattered against the table. Your stomach churned. In a matter of seconds the rich taste of meat was replaced with sickening bile. You gagged. Bringing your hands to your mouth to try and suppress what attempted to crawl back up your throat. Your eyes watered. Your breathing hitched. You stood up quickly, chair clattering on the floor behind you. You didn't look at them, not caring if they held smiles on their faces or concern. This couldn't be real. Surely these creatures weren't so horrendous that they would intentionally feed you something so heinous. That was completely obscene. Just as you thought there was going to be some understanding between you, they turn the situation on it's head for some sick joke.
You could hear them start to get up from their chairs, but you couldn't face them, not after what they pulled. Instead you turned on your heels and began running again. Just as one game was over, another one was about to begin. This was your life now. A never ending dance with four demons for survival. You didn't know where you were going. You ran upstairs, down the hallway, turned left, turned right, and locked yourself in the farthest room you could find. But what you hadn't realised was exactly whose room you ran into.
#lord dimitrescu#lord dimitrescu x reader#residet evil 8#resident evil 8 fic#lady dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu x reader#I finished this sooner than expected...#I just kept writing and didn't stop#needed to take my mind off things#anyway I hope you enjoy!
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Deep End - Six
Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader
Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.
Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 4.6K
A/n: Okie dokie! I’ve got an epilogue planned but I like this. The epilogue will explain shit better but I've known that this would be the end since pretty much the beginning LMAO
Deep End Masterlist
THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!
~*~
When Steve hears you stop struggling, stop fighting and stop crying, he’s nervous.
It’s been a while since he locked you up there, and he really should check on you soon, if only to make sure the baby’s okay after that stunt you pulled.
He pushes the door to the bedroom open, eyeing your figure carefully.
You look like you’re asleep. If he wasn't so attuned to your body, your heart and your breathing, he wouldn’t have noticed something’s wrong.
Your heart is beating rapidly, far faster than normal. And it’s weaker than usual.
Your breathing is shallow and strained, and your face is lacking its usual healthy glow.
He rushes to your side, tearing the rope from your wrists and touching your face carefully.
Your skin is hot to the touch, and he feels fear settle in his gut.
He doesn’t know what to do, how to help. He’s never really had to help you like this, the doctor’s always been nearby.
He grabs his phone, calling the doctor and pacing nervously.
“Sh-she’s burning up and her breathing is shallow.”
Steve's stomach drops as he listens to the doctor’s instructions, answers his questions and comes to the realization of why you’re like this.
He rolls you onto your left side, tears welling up in his eyes at how unresponsive you are.
The doctor hangs up after telling the super soldier that he’ll be there soon.
His heart is in his throat as he tries to undo the damage of his punishment, putting the evidence back in the box and kicking the rope under the bed.
You’re still unresponsive, heart weak, but your breath sounds a little less strained.
Monster. That’s what you called him. What Natasha called him and what Bucky’s asset called him.
Maybe you’re right.
But he wants you. He needs you. Giving you up would be giving up a piece of his soul and he’s not ready to do that yet.
~*~
The doctor informs him that both you and the baby are okay, but being on your back for so long was compressing a major vein supplying your baby with oxygenated blood. If he’d gotten there any later it might’ve been too late.
With strict instructions to keep you on your left side and make sure you stay hydrated, the doctor takes his leave.
He stays by your side, holding your hand tightly in both of his as he really comes to terms with the fact that it was entirely his fault. He almost killed you and your baby to prove a stupid point. To discourage you from doing the very same thing.
His heart is heavy in his chest as he listens to your heartbeat get stronger, to the baby’s heartbeat continue fluttering like a hummingbird’s.
Those two sounds bring him peace, if only temporarily.
Shattering his peace is the sound of the front door opening, followed by tiny little footsteps clomping up the stairs.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
Sarah.
Steve shoves himself to his feet and quickly leaves the room just as his daughter tries to enter.
“Sarah, mommy’s sleeping.” She frowns up at him and shakes her little blonde head.
“I need to talk to mommy!”
She walks around his legs only for him to scoop her up in his arms.
“She’s sleeping right now, honey.”
Sarah shakes her head angrily, beating her tiny fists against his shoulders.
“Let me go! I want mommy! Mommy!! Put me down!” She starts shrieking. Full-on screaming bloody murder right in his ear, and he loses his grip on the wriggling child.
She slides out of his arms and runs into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed and shaking your shoulder.
“Mommy?” She’s got little tears on her face, and they don’t cease when you don’t wake up.
“Why won’t mommy wake up?!” She looks up at Steve with terror written on her face and it shatters his heart in his chest.
“Sarah, mommy’s sick, okay? I had the doctor come over and he said that she needs to rest and when she wakes up we’re gonna need to make sure she’s got plenty of water, okay?”
Sarah’s big blue eyes are filled with tears and she shakes her head.
“I want mommy!”
She clings to your torso, crying against your shoulder in fear.
“Sarah, honey, mommy’s gonna be okay. You just gotta give her some space, okay? How about I set up a movie for you?” Sarah sniffles and slowly pulls away from you, looking at her father and shaking her head again.
“I want mommy! I hate you!”
Steve then realizes just how crucial you are. How important you are, not only to him but to his daughter as well.
Losing you would hurt so many people.
“Honey, you gotta give mommy and I some space, okay?”
He picks up the five-year-old, despite her quite literally kicking and screaming, and sets her down outside the bedroom.
He shuts the door quickly and locks it even faster.
Sarah stands outside, wailing her head off and pounding on the door with her tiny little fists.
She cries for you, over and over again, and it breaks Steve’s heart.
He’s brought back to what you said about him. About how this isn’t love.
He sits down at your side again, trying desperately to drown out the sound of his daughter crying outside as his thoughts overwhelm him.
He hasn’t been the nicest to you, that he’ll openly admit, and he makes mistakes probably more often than he doesn’t. But he loves you. He needs you.
Tears well up in his eyes and he lets out a shuddering breath.
He’ll make this right. He has to. Sarah deserves a mother, so does your unborn baby. And -though he may not deserve you- he needs you. The monster will be hard to fight, but losing you will be harder.
The damage he’s done might be irreversible, but he’s gonna do what he can to make things right, to give you a better life.
You don’t wake up for a few hours, but when you do you’re confused.
Your back aches and you feel a little dizzy as you remember what happened, how you got here.
Steve watches as you regain consciousness, confusion pulling your brows together before you slowly open your eyes.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles soothingly.
You look up at him then drop your gaze to your belly, bringing your free hand down to rub it gently.
“Am I... are we okay?” He nods gently, tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I was... I don’t know, trying to teach you a lesson. And all that did was hurt you. Hurt the baby. I wanted to show you that trying to hurt yourself and hurt the baby wouldn’t fly, but I ended up doing far more damage.”
You swallow hard and struggle to push yourself into a seated position, wincing at the throb in your head.
“The doctor said that you shouldn’t move too much, and try to stay on your left side when you sleep. I-I didn't know that sleeping on your back was bad.”
You take a deep breath and look up at him, waiting for the anger to take hold in his eyes but it never does.
“I’m sorry for hurting you. For scaring you and not trusting you. I... I lost you for so many years and now I have you back and... I don’t wanna lose you again. But everything I do to try and keep you close, make you mine... all it does is push you further away and I’m sorry.”
His apology takes you by surprise, and you eye him skeptically.
How are you supposed to know if he’s telling the truth?
He drags one of his hands down his face and for a moment you can truly see just how old Steve Rogers is.
The exhaustion of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders finally shows in the lines near his eyes, the bags beneath them. But what really displays his age is his eyes. They’re so full of trauma and pain and weariness.
For the first time since waking up from the ice, Steve Rogers looks his age.
“I-I’m sorry, too,” you whisper, surprising him.
“I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking. I just... I wanted to punish you for what happened to Natasha. What you did. I wanted you to hurt but I just ended up hurting myself in the process.” You look down at your hands, trying to figure out how you want to phrase what you have to say.
“People argue, Steve. But what you do... it’s beyond that. We’re not... there are so many things wrong with what’s happening between us, what’s happened already, but I can’t leave. Sarah’s too attached and all I want for my little girl is to have a happy life. To have the happiness that was torn from me.”
Guilt settles on his chest, but he lets you continue speaking.
“I want my daughter to have a good life. I don’t want her to be afraid of-of people. The way I am. She loves you, and I know... I think you love her. You haven’t hurt her yet, and I hope it stays that way because at the rate we’re going, I'm not sure how much longer I’ll be able to do this.”
The pure fatigue on your face is more than enough explanation, but the idea of losing you is too much for him to bear.
“No, don’t say that. I’m gonna get better, okay? We-we were happy once. And we can do it again. I’ll be gentle and patient. I just... I need you, (Y/n). I need you a lot and the fact that you have such a tight hold over my every thought makes me angry. But I’m not gonna take it out on you anymore, okay?”
You let out a deep breath and eye him carefully.
“You’ve said that before.”
He thinks back to the time you spent in that cabin in the woods, where you turned his friends against him.
He has said that before, and look at where he is now.
“This time it’ll be different.”
You don’t have the energy to fight him. So if he’s gonna try, fine.
“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping she’s still safely out with Morgan.
Steve’s face falls again and he stands up and opens the door to your bedroom.
Sarah sits crumpled in a ball, her cheeks covered in tears.
“Mommy!” She all but screams the word, launching to her feet.
Steve tries to take her hand but she yanks it away from him, shooting him a glare then running to the bed and climbing up beside you.
Your heart breaks when you see how sad she looks, and you hug her to your chest.
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.” She sniffles and climbs onto your lap, climbing to you like her life depends on it.
You wonder what happened while you were unconscious, what Steve did to upset her so much, and your mind immediately goes to the worst.
You look at the man, your thoughts written plainly across your face, but he quickly shakes his head.
“No. I just told her she couldn’t come in. Not ‘till you woke up. She uh... she stayed right outside the door.”
You soothe your daughter, rocking her as much as you can manage with the pain rolling down your spine.
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You hold her close to you, trying to calm her down while Steve looks on helplessly.
Although his daughter loves him, loves being here with him, nothing can compare to the bond that the two of you have.
The monster in him hates it. Hates that he’s not as close to his own daughter, blames you for it. But he pushes that part of himself down.
He made a promise. And this time he’s not gonna break it.
~
"Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He asks for the thousandth time.
You only shrug, fixing your hair in the mirror as the doorbell rings.
“It’s a little too late now, Steve. Besides, I don’t really care. Sarah’s gonna have fun and that’s all that matters.”
Your daughter took a few days to warm up to Steve again, but now that she has he’s not gonna risk anything changing that.
He takes one last look at you, at how pretty you look in your blue sundress, then leans forward and kisses your cheek.
“I love you, (Y/n). I can send them away.”
You take a deep breath and shake your head.
“Sarah’s excited. Besides, I wanna know what we’re having.”
You plaster on a forced smile and it breaks his heart, but he turns and heads downstairs to greet the guests.
Ever since you got hurt, he’s been nicer. Far gentler than he's ever been with you, and you’re not complaining.
Steve has the potential to be a good person, that much is obvious, but he chooses not to.
He hasn’t hurt you again, or even yelled at you. No, he’s been patient and understanding and it’s such a sharp contrast from who he was before.
You can hear him greeting the guests warmly, chatting on and on about this and that and whatever else.
Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you leave the faux safety of the bedroom and head down the stairs, smiling at your guests.
People that you’ve never seen before are in your house. Well, that’s not true. You’ve seen them on TV.
The Avengers are in your living room and kitchen, talking softly amongst themselves.
In the presence of these superheroes, you feel small. Weak. And you can’t fight the urge to find Steve as anxiety crawls up your spine.
He’s in the kitchen, talking animatedly with Tony Stark and Sam Wilson. Iron Man and Falcon.
He looks so at ease, his face split open with a laidback grin.
Sam’s eyes find yours and he says something to Steve, making the blond turn to you with a soft smile.
He waves you over and you obey, one hand resting delicately on your bump.
“Sam, Tony, this is my (Y/n). (Y/n), Sam and Tony.” You nod politely at them, sliding your clammy hand into Steve's nervously.
You haven’t been around this many people in a very long time.
“It’s nice to finally meet the woman who’s got Captain America so hooked! All he does is talk about you,” Sam says, a grin on his face.
You smile at him, looking up at Steve.
He nods encouragingly, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles to try and ease your anxiety.
“It’s nice to meet you, too. I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you. About both of you.” Tony smiles looking down as someone tugs on his pant leg.
“Can I have a sleepover at Sarah’s house?!” Morgan asks excitedly, her little face full of glee.
“You’re gonna need to go ask your mother. You know she makes all the decisions.”
Tony’s gaze lifts to yours when his daughter runs to find her mom.
“Is it alright if she sleeps over tonight?”
Steve nods then looks at you.
“You alright with that?”
You’re not sure if it’s a real choice or a test, but you don’t want to find out.
“Of course. She’s always welcome here.”
Tony nods with a smile, then resumes whatever conversation they were having before you showed up.
You tune out what they’re saying, carefully rubbing over your stomach and poking at your baby whenever they decide to kick you.
“(Y/n)? Did you wanna help me set the food up outside?” Pepper’s voice breaks you from your trance, her hand coming to rest softly on your shoulder.
You look up at Steve, silently asking for permission, but he just leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips and lets go of your hand.
You follow Pepper, setting up the table in the backyard silently for a while before she clears her throat.
“How are you feeling, (Y/n)? Sarah told us you were sick.”
You swallow hard and give her a tight smile.
“I’m feeling better. Tired all the time but this little devil is to blame for that.” You poke your belly only to be met with another kick.
Pepper nods, smiling at you.
“Are you excited?”
That question throws you for a loop.
Are you? Are you excited to have another baby?
You’re excited for Sarah to have a sibling. Excited to get to hold your baby and love your baby. But the reason why you’re having the baby in the first place? The father of your baby? No.
“Yeah, I am. A little nervous, too.”
She sits down by your garden, patting the seat next to her.
“You look tired, (Y/n). More tired than a mother should be. You’re wearing yourself thin.” You keep your lips sealed, not wanting to say anything that might make Steve mad.
She sighs and sets a gentle hand on your knee.
“I don’t know what your... relationship is with Steve, but I know you’re unhappy. He’s a good guy, deep down. But you need to take care of yourself, okay? Don’t work yourself to the breaking point because it’ll be even harder to build yourself back up. Especially with a brand new baby.”
You let out a shuddering breath and nod.
“It’s just hard. I’m trying but... it’s hard.”
As you talk softly with Pepper, Steve observes the two of you.
You look so sad, so defeated. He hates that he made you look like that.
“She’s unhappy, Steve.”
He turns to the voice, eyebrows raising.
“Wanda. I didn’t know if you’d make it.” He pulls her into a hug. “I heard about what happened in Westview... Wanda, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
She sighs, pulling away with a sad smile.
“No. But I will be.” Her eyes travel back over to you for a moment, feeling the pain and the sorrow in your soul.
“Do you think she’ll ever be happy here? With me?” Wanda sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes, feeling your thoughts, your energy.
“It’s hard to tell. Right now she’s so... numb. Nothing but sadness and... hopelessness. Her spirit is crushed, Steve.” She reopens her eyes and turns to the blond.
“You can’t keep her here like this. It’s only a matter of time before she gets fed up and tries to do something drastic. Again.”
Steve knows. He fucking knows that. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do to lift your spirits.
He's given you more freedom, let you make more decisions for yourself. He’s been gentler with you, hasn't forced himself on you.
Not forcing himself on you isn’t something to gloat about, but given the history between the two of you, it’s something fairly major.
He just wants to keep you in his life. He needs to keep you in his life.
He turns to the young woman beside him, a thought bubbling into his mind.
“Could you... do something to make her happy? Make her enjoy her life here? Make her love me again?”
Wanda’s mouth curves down as she looks at you, watches you play with your daughter and Morgan.
“Steve, it’s not right.”
The blond lets out a pained breath, shaking his head desperately.
“I just want happiness, Wanda. Don’t I deserve it? Haven’t I suffered enough to deserve a happy ending?”
Wanda’s eyes glow red with sorrow as she’s reminded of her own happy ending that she had to give up.
She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, dropping her gaze for a moment before looking over at his desperate blue eyes.
“We don’t always get what we deserve. It’s hard and it hurts, but we can't control everything. And at some point, we need to let go. No matter how hard it is or how much it hurts. We can’t hurt other people because of what we think we deserve.”
They both look back over to you, your own eyes already on the pair, but dropping as soon as you see them turn to you.
“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do that.”
Tears stab at his eyes and he huffs out a breath through his nose, turning on his heel and walking away from the party, from his friends.
His abrupt departure catches the attention of a few people, yourself included. Before you can get up and see what’s going on, Bucky’s on his feet and heading into the house.
The woman Steve was talking to makes her way over to you, smiling gently.
“Hi (Y/n). I’m Wanda.” You smile at her, eyes darting towards where Steve disappeared from then back to her.
Bucky re-emerges only a few moments later, shaking his head at Natasha when she gives him a quizzical look.
You turn to Wanda with a strained smile.
“Could you just watch Sarah for a minute? And make sure she has something to eat? The foods ready.” She nods, watching with sad eyes as you walk back into the house to see what’s wrong with Steve.
“Steve?” You call softly, looking around for him only to find him sitting on the couch in the living room, his face in his hands.
“Why can’t I have what I want?” His question catches you off guard and you move to stand in front of him.
He shakes his head sadly, pulling his hands off of his face to grab yours, holding them tightly.
His lips brush over your knuckles gently, before he presses the back of your hands against his forehead, dropping his gaze to the floor.
“This isn’t right.”
Your heart races in your chest, stomach tying in knots as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.
“What are you talking about? Is everything okay? Did... did I do something wrong?” Maybe you shouldn’t have talked to Pepper earlier. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and smiled.
“I can’t keep you here.”
One sentence. Five words. Sixteen letters.
That’s all it takes to have your heart stuttering.
“What... what do you mean you can’t keep me here?” You try your hardest not to let your hopes get too high. Maybe he’s going to kill you. Maybe that’s what it is. It’s certainly something more up his alley than... the alternative.
He slowly raises his head, teary red eyes staring up into yours.
“You know what I mean.”
You shake your head, needing to hear him say it himself.
“What are you saying, Steve?”
He lets out a heavy sigh and closes his eyes, the words hurting him but he needs to say them.
“You're free to go. You and Sarah.”
The breath gets knocked from your lungs, eyes wide as tears start to blossom. This is a trap. A test. It has to be. There’s no way...
“You’re letting us go?” You ask softly.
He sighs again, nodding as tears find their way down his cheeks.
“Yeah... I guess I am.”
You’re silent, staring at him and waiting for him to tell you it’s a joke, to punish you. But he doesn’t. No, instead he lets go of one of your hands and stands up, his chest almost brushing yours.
“You said I don’t love you... but I do. I love you. Or maybe I love the idea of you, I don’t know. But either way... I hate how sad you are. How sad and afraid I make you. You're free to go wherever you want.”
You’re practically hyperventilating.
After all this time, you never truly thought he’d ever let you go. That he’d have even a shred of decency left inside him.
He cups your hands together and carefully places something inside them, then turns and walks to the front door, grabbing his keys and leaving the house.
You stand silently, staring at the object in your hands until standing becomes too hard and you think you may throw up.
Then you sit down, silent tears trekking down your cheeks.
“(Y/n)?” You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, but Natasha’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.
“(Y/n), are you okay? Where’s Steve?”
You stare up at her then look back down at the tiny, life-changing object in your hands.
“He let us go,” you whisper, your glossy eyes raising to hers again.
She looks half as shocked as you feel.
“What?”
You sniffle then wipe the tears off of your cheeks.
“He’s letting us go,” you repeat, pushing yourself to your feet and holding your bump.
“Really?” You nod, eyes finding the backyard through the kitchen window.
Sarah and Morgan are playing outside with Sam and Wanda.
“What are you gonna do?”
Your heart is so full of confusion, full of pain and hurt.
“I’m gonna go cut the cake, then have a talk with Sarah.” She nods, a small smile on her face.
She heads back outside and you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before you go out and face Steve’s friends.
You toy with the dainty thing he dropped in your hands before nodding to yourself.
This is what’s right. It’s the right choice for both of you.
You entertain his guests for a few more hours, not wanting to clue them into anything in case they disagree with your decision, with Steve’s.
Only after the presents are given and the cake is almost completely devoured do they finally start to leave.
Wanda helps you tidy up the backyard, writing her phone number down with a soft smile and a whispered ‘if you ever need a friend’.
Everyone bids you goodbye until only Bucky and Nat are left, the metal-armed soldier staring intently at your left hand before a smile spreads across his face.
He surprises you, pulling you into a gentle hug and nodding his head.
“Congratulations, (Y/n).” You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but for some reason, you don’t think it has anything to do with the baby shower.
They leave too, and then you’re virtually alone, Sarah and Morgan asleep upstairs.
After cleaning up every last inch of the house, you head upstairs to go to sleep.
Steve isn’t home until after midnight, long after he lets his tears run dry and his heart stop shattering. It just aches now. Hurts.
He let you go. He really did it.
Deep down he knew this would be the outcome. Either this or your death, but he never wanted to accept it. Refused to admit it to himself.
But seeing Wanda... after all that she’s been through... and she’s still standing strong.
He takes his shoes off and drops his keys on the kitchen counter, freezing in his tracks when he sees the covered plate of cake with his name written on it.
The batter is blue.
A boy.
He’s gonna have a son.
A son that he’ll never get to meet. He’s given you freedom, and he doubts you’ll let him be a part of your child’s life after all that he’s put you through.
He slowly makes his way upstairs, his heart hurting when he sees no sign of your things in the pristine house.
When he pushes open the bedroom door he freezes in his tracks.
There you are, sleeping in his bed. No bags are packed, nothing is out of place, and the dainty diamond ring sits on your finger.
You’ve made your choice, he realizes, his heart jumping for joy in his chest.
He sheds his clothes then climbs into bed with you, wrapping you up in his arms and sighing heavily.
Maybe Wanda was wrong.
Maybe he’ll get his happy ending after all.
#dark!steve#dark!steve x reader#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve x you#steve x reader dark fic#stucky x reader dark fic#Steve rogers x reader dark fic#Steve Rogers x reader#dark!Steve Rogers x reader#Steve X reader dark fic#dark fic#dark au#Steve X reader dark au
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Takari Week 2021, Day 1 - Sibling Shenanigans.
Things have gotten too bad, Taichi and Yamato need an intervention. And if they pay close attention, they might learn something important.
Nah, who we kidding.
Written as part of @takariweek
In some ways, Yamato was Taichi’s closest friend. They had gone through hell and back together, forming an unbreakable bond.
That said, they had different tastes in music, TV, and basically anything. Taichi preferred to watch sports and anime, Yamato preferred dramas and cooking shows. Taichi flourished in the company of others, Yamato demurred in the presence of anyone he wasn’t familiar with.
But one pastime they could both agree on was a good old fashion round of Smash. Whenever it was just the two of them, they generally sat down, fired up the N64, and just let their preferred characters bash one out.
As they were doing until a few seconds ago when an unsightly banner obscured their view of the television. “intervention” was proudly displayed, with one ‘i’ dotted with the crest of courage and the other with the crest of friendship. The phrase was repeated in Japanese, just underneath, in case the translation caused them to miss the point.
Either end of the banner was affixed to a small wooden tripod, being gently lowered to the ground by a devious sibling.
“What’s going on?” Yamato grumbled, still mashing buttons on the control in hopes of gaining an edge. “And when did you even have time to make that?”
Hikari ignored the protestation “We’re here because we’re your family and we care about you. We hoped that time would heal this wound, but time is no longer on our side. You two will be going to college soon, and we need to break through to you before too late.”
“What are you talking about?” Taichi asked. “We were in the middle of something.”
“Smash can wait, we can’t keep putting this off.” She took a deep breath. “This may be hard to hear, but please understand, it needs to be said: You are atrocious when talking to girls.”
“What?”
“Look Taichi, you’ve already near exhausted all your high school options, if something doesn’t change, you’re going to end up alone and unloved, filling your apartment with pets for some form of companionship.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” he asked. She solemnly shook her head ‘No’ in response.
“Can I go?” Yamato cut in. “I have a girlfriend, if you remember. We’ve been dating for years now.”
“Yes, and she still calls me to rant about it after every date.” Takeru cut. “I can only clean up your messes for so long Yamato, you have to learn how to do it yourself. Or better yet, don’t make messes in the first place.”
“Ouch.” Taichi said, casting a sideways glance at his co-captive.
“You aren’t any better Taichi,” Hikari shot, “You had seven people and eight Digimon wingmaning you on a simple phone call, and you still managed to mess it up.”
This time it was Yamato who glanced at Taichi.
“Now.” Takeru said “The first thing you need to learn is observation. If you pay attention to someone and signal that you notice when something changes. This shows you care enough about the other person to actually look at them and remember what they looked like yesterday.”
He cleared his throat, “For example, if say, your girlfriend decides to style her hair differently, you should maybe compliment the style change, instead of being oblivious. Wouldn’t you say, Yamato?”
“It was one time.” Yamato grumbled.
“Perhaps a practical demonstration would be better.” Hikari said. “Oh, Takeru, Honey, sorry I’m late, the train was delayed.”
“Don’t worry about it Babe, I’m just glad you’re here. Hey is that a new ring?”
“Why yes, thank you for noticing,” she said, bringing her hands up and giving the ring a twirl. “my BFF got it for me as an end-of-middle school present.”
“Ahh, I could tell it was someone close to you, that’s your birthstone on top right?”
“Yep.”
Takeru turned back towards his unwillingly captive audience. “See how I not only noticed the ring, remarked upon it, but also showed I remember her birth date.”
Taichi looked across at Yamato, “Do you know any of the birthstones?” A shrug was the only answer.
“You may think observation is only for what you can see, but it’s deeper than that. Any piece of information falls under observation, and if you like a girl, you will do your best to remember anything you learn about her.” Hikari said.
“Observation is really important, right Hikari?” Takeru asked.
“Very, but knowing everything can’t help if you don’t know how to use it. Which brings us to lesson two.”
“Is this whole thing just a ploy for your sister to practice being a teacher?” Yamato muttered.
“Tact!” Hikari and Takeru declared in unison.
“Tact is pretty tricky. You mostly define it by what not to do. Like not being a dumbass.” Takeru said.
“True, tact can be hard to see when done well. It’s basically about avoiding the obvious traps. For example, when calling a girl whose Maine coon died recently, you should maybe try and avoid mentions about that dead cat, unless she needs to vent. Isn’t that right, Taichi?”
“That was one time.” He protested.
“Right, right, a demonstration?” Takeru asked, pulling a magazine out from behind his back, and pretending to flip through the pages.
“Oh Honey, there you are.” Hikari said looking him up and down. She paused for a few seconds, then pulled lightly on his arm. “Say, I hear there’s a Harry Potter-themed escape room running these days, how about we go there on our next date.”
Takeru put the magazine down “Oh, what’s that? Thanks Babe.” he asked.
Hikari turned back towards the couch. “Notice how I observed the story about his favorite basketball star being caught in a scandal, and deflected toward other interests, instead of stepping on that land mine.”
“How would we even think to notice that?” Yamato grumbled.
“With observation of course.” Takeru replied. “Notice everything, even the things that aren’t being conveyed directly.”
“Being perfect might work for you Takeru, but some of us are human.” Taichi said.
“Oh, I’m hardly the only guy with a girlfriend. You just have to put some effort in.” Takeru said, “Which is as good a segue as any to topic three: Compliments.”
“I know how to give a compliment.” Taichi said.
“Do you?” Hikari asked. “So if you were at the beach with say Sora, or Mimi, or Meiko, you would be able to properly compliment their swimsuits?”
“One time!” Yamato and Taichi yelled together.
“And yet three failures. Pretty poor performance when you think about it.” Takeru said.
“Compliments can be tricky; they require you to combine the previous two skills. You need to observe someone so the compliment makes sense, but you also need tact. Something that’s a compliment to one person may be a touchy subject to another.” Hikari explained.
“Especially when it comes to appearance and body parts,” Takeru said, “and you don’t want to get too accustomed to your compliments either, keep them fresh and exciting.”
“It’s amazing isn’t it Taichi?” Yamato asked.
“So many words and I don’t think they said anything.” He agreed.
“Perhaps the demonstration then.” Takeru said, turning to his partner. “Hikari, I saw you reading to some of the elementary students today, boy am I lucky to have such a kind girlfriend.”
“Don’t mention it. I enjoy it, and I like to think they did too. Say, can you open this jar for me? It should be easy for a strong man like you.” Hikari said.
Takeru mimed grabbing and opening a jar. “Anything for you Babe, say, is that a new shirt, you look positively radiant today.”
Hikari raised her hand to cover her giggle, “I’m so glad I have such a funny boyfriend. You know this is the school uniform, I’ve been wearing it for almost three years now.”
“Huh, you’re right. I guess I never noticed, every time I look at you I can’t help but be overwhelmed by those pools of milky hazel, whenever I see them, my troubles float away and I feel like I have the strength of a thousand men. I could spend hours just staring into those wells of pure emotion.”
“I, uh, uhh, I like your eyes too?”
Takeru let out a large laugh and the pair turned back to the couch to find it no longer occupied.
“That’s no good. They’ll never learn like this.” Takeru admonished
Hikari raised her hands again, twirling the promise ring on her finger. “Do you think they noticed?” she asked.
“Them? No way.” Takeru replied, “but that’s what makes it fun. See how long it takes before they catch on.”
“What if someone else tells them we’re dating first?”
Takeru shrugged, “Just say we already told them, they just weren’t paying enough attention.”
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I never meant to target you and I'm sorry you felt that way. You properly tag everything and adhere to the "don't like, don't read" rule. I don't follow you nor you follow, because we simply don't vibe together and that's okay.
But there are posts that are on the more "innocent" side that do represent fat people as a joke and it's like they don't even realize it because it's something so well ingrained in our fatphobic society.
For example, all the characters are having fun except the fat one or referring to someone as "twice his size" (like... If they want to say he's huge, they should just say it, not imply that there's a "right size" for someone to be).
I don't think authors should censor themselves, just acknowledge the role they play in how fat characters are perceived by the community they write for.
-🍓
First of all, since you obviously haven’t blocked me, you could have come to me via direct message. This is not a topic that needs to be brought out into the public eye even more than it already is. I have worked with anons before, I would have been the last person to reveal who you are. You could have made a trash account to message me in dm’s, but since you didn’t, I will reply to you here.
I want to make one thing clear. This will be my last response on the topic. If you do not like me as a member of the community please use the block button and filter me out, because I will stay. I have many friends here, and know that many people enjoy my content. Just because a small handful of people don’t appreciate dark themes in fiction, the contents of which they can easily protect themselves from, won’t make me falter.
Now, I want to debunk this ask because your ‘apology’ actually made me very upset.
I know you don’t mean it when you say you are sorry because you’re backpedaling on what you’ve told your friends and it really rubs me the wrong way. You could have owned up to your mistakes and apologized sincerely like others had but you continue to play victim and excuse your behaviour with tales of your own trauma, projecting your own insecurities onto my blog and thus hating me.
I know for a fact that you despise my blog, especially my writing, because you do not like how “obviously skinny people write about weight gain.”
Honey.
I couldn’t be any further from skinny.
I don’t mind sharing my actual weight, which has actually gotten worse due to COVID. I weigh 490lbs. I am morbidly obese. I have always been morbidly obese. For you to come and be “nitpicky” about a genre you don’t even enjoy? Why are you even reading my fics then?
The way I write about obese people, their struggles with literally everything… that comes from real life experience. I write this to share embarrassing and exhausting daily life tasks I personally struggle with.
A skinny person would never write some of the stuff I do, because they simply don’t know. They don’t know how scary it is to hear the line “we are going to a restaurant.” They don’t know how scary it is to go into that new restaurant, scan the chairs and think “Shit, am I gonna fit? Is the chair gonna creak? Is there enough space for the next table? What if I won’t fit?” A thin person doesn’t have to think this way.
And, let me tell you something else. Yes, I agree. The world is fatphobic.
In one of my recent posts I talked about movies and shows where they make fun of fat people because I hate it. Because it is REAL LIFE. And I am all for the body positivity movement and I do believe that all bodies are beautiful, because they are.
You do not know me personally.
And that leads to my next point. If you personally have issues with the phrase “twice my size”, then that is on you. And guess what? I cannot count how often I’ve heard lines like that my whole life.
“Oh wow two people would fit in one of your pant legs.”
“Wow, you are so fat, I could use your pants as a tent.”
So trust me, I know. I KNOW. But anon, this is the important part for me. Everyone processes trauma differently.
Inked ch3? Or literally any story I have written with a fat character being forced, insulted and talked down to like they’re dumb? That’s what I have been living with my entire life. Most of these stories, some obviously more extreme than how I had experienced them since it’s fiction, have been recordings of trauma I have went through.
My own dad force fed me. Forced me to eat food and gain weight. My first boyfriend was a feeder that manipulated me into gaining more weight and took measurements. Called me pig names and abused me. Hit me, manipulated me into having s** with him and then let all of his fantasies out on me.
I don’t make this shit up. I hate my brain for being so twisted now, that I actually find it hot and arousing. It’s weird. I know, but that’s how it is.
I’ve also never had friends in school. Not even kindergarten. Why? Because my “fat incased body could spread like a virus.” I was being bullied like JK was in Pondus.
I had hot water thrown at me, got glue put on my seats and hair, had my hair ripped out and even got a cigarette burn mark on my arm. Just because I was fat. Just because of how my body was shaped.
I was strangled and locked into a small locker for a night. I was almost killed for running away from my abusive dad from his car and had to listen to things like, “You are going to die when you are 30. No one will ever love you and your body.” That I have trust issues now and am paranoid about everything and everyone.
Those dark stories. I use those dark stories to try to work through my trauma. And yes, it may be absurd to you. It may disgust you, what I write. But sadly, most of it? Most of it really happened to me. To me and other people I’ve talked to as a friend or seen online. Most of what I write will be dark because the human species is made up of terrible creatures.
Fatphobia is an important topic, and I am happy the media has been slowly getting better about it, that people accept us more. But my writing is how I work with my trauma. If I can make fictional characters feel the same things I had to feel, that makes me feel better.
And I’m not hurting anyone with it. So how is it wrong?
I do not support any of this behaviour in real life. I never bullied anyone, I always try to speak up for my friends and tell people if they are being assholes. Because I hate them too and it makes me angry when good people get shit when they do nothing but breathe.
And how @pudgecuddles already said. I don't need you to advocate for body positivity and all that shit when you go out of your way to bully someone that may have experienced the same shit you have. I do not know you or what you went through in your life, but I am sorry. I’m sorry you feel like my stories aren’t okay to write, but this is how I work on my trauma and I need you to respect that.
I’ve said this before. We don’t have to be friends, or even talk to each other.
Just be neutral.
Block me. Filter me out. Pretend I don't exist. But, whatever you do, don’t make posts that call me out while making it obvious you’re talking about me, with the cover that you are advocating against fatphobia. That’s got a name. Cyber-bullying.
Have you hurt me with those posts? Yes you have, but I’ve never wanted bad blood. As you may have noticed, it wasn’t me that made a post. It was my good friend. Because I told her how exhausting it was and she knew about the posts back then.
I have a good idea of who you are.
I remember you.
But I kept my mouth shut. Because this community is my home and the last thing I wanted was for the people who like both of our types of content to feel like they have to choose sides.
In the end, we all rub one out to fat gay boys in a band. No user is better than the rest, and if there are topics you do not enjoy, there is a button for it. No need to drag everyone into it with posts. It’s exhausting and irritating.
Now, I do not accept your apology because you lied to me and I also do not feel like you meant it sincerely knowing what I know now after reading some dm’s. But I also won’t sit here and start shit.
This is my last post about this.
Please block me and enjoy the content you do like.
Nonetheless, I hope you have a nice day and a lovely weekend. Whatever you are experiencing or going through, I hope it gets better. Because even if you hate me personally for creating content you do not support, I’d say that I am a really friendly and nice person.
I do not believe that anyone deserves to be bullied like that and talked down in official posts. It happened before with a friend of mine and you probably remember that I did speak up about it.... But apparently no one learned from it. I really hope this time you do.
Insult me and shit talk me all you want in dm’s, but don’t do it publicly. No one deserves that kind of hate or passive aggressiveness. No one. Since you sound like someone that went through a lot of shit too, you should know better. You should know how it feels to be bullied and what damage it can cause.
I’m already depressed enough and I have bad lows. Let me write my erotica and just enjoy it? That’s all I want? I am a part of this community just like you were. You leaving because you did not like my content, is not my problem. If you cannot block me or ignore it and go so far as to read them and then rant about them negatively, what do you want me to do? I won’t leave the scene just because you don’t like me.
So, you either trash talk me in dm’s from now on so that I do not see it, or you block me. The latter of which would be the more mature thing to do. The more humane thing to do. Because talking behind someone’s back is just as bad.
Again, I don’t know why you felt like it was necessary to send me an ask with lies in it when I got screenshot proof of something else you have said/issues with, so don’t backpedal on me. I know Hun. I know already.
At least stick to what you said and actually apologize or, if you can’t, just block me.
But this ask? This ask just upset me.
Have a nice day.
p.s: The fact that this even needs to be talked about is so absurd and ridiculous to me. The whole thing is a petty party in my eyes that isn't even worth anyone's time? Do people on here really not have any other issues right now or am I in the wrong movie?
#taeslovehandle asks#do not use this post to cause your own drama#this is me answering honestly.#the topic about this ends here.#please respect this <3
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Billy Lenz x Reader | Coffee Shop AU
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“U already know who this is... Coffee shop au but there's a competing coffee shop that sells holiday themed drinks depending on the day of the week (B I L L Y L E N Z I D E M A N D H I M)” - anon
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Billy was pissed.
Stupid Coffee Shop with their stupid snowflakes- and who the hell painted that sorry excuse for a snowman on the front window?! It wasn't even December, and they already had decorations up and Holiday Specials advertised in big, bold lettering
Billy blew a stray strand of hair from his face, glaring out the window at the coffee shop across the street. Two years after they opened there, and he still couldn't believe they'd had the audacity to choose that location - maybe less that thirty feet away from the location of his shop. There he'd been, finally settled after years of therapy, content with the stability of his life, when they showed up.
Them and their hair...their clothes...their stupid face- stupid eyes-
They came and opened their shop, selling coffee a dollar cheaper than him and attracting half of his customers like moths to a flame. When Billy put up a sign advertising cookies, they advertised two-for-one deals. When he offered special holiday sales, they offered free cookies with any purchase on Tuesdays. When he advertised limited time coffee flavors, they advertised seasonal baked goods. Those with fewer tastebuds and lighter wallets began to switch to the other, lesser coffee shop within a couple of months, and Billy was left to suffer the consequences.
Granted, he still got good business, his coffee shop was unique, and obviously quite superior. Not only was he skilled in the art of coffee making, and served everything in ceramic cups unless otherwise specified, his shop was themed.
Each day was a different holiday, with different options for coffee. He had 'plain' options for those who just wanted a caffeine fix, but he had alternating holiday flavors for the more adventurous. And damn it, if someone wanted a Leprechaun Cappuccino on Thursday then too fucking bad! They’d have to show up on Monday like everyone else!
It had started off with just Christmas themed brews all year 'round, but he'd expanded after the first year. He hated having to explain the menu to new customers every single time they showed up, but he did enjoy messing around with different types of latte art. That is, if everyone stopped ordering the iced coffee...
Glancing back at his rival, he snarled.
Billy hated them. He hated their coffee shop, he hated their smile, he hated their dumb laugh-
He'd often see them through the window, putting a sign out front, or sweeping off the front step before they opened. They looked dumber and dumber each time he saw them. Sometimes they had the nerve to wave at him and yell out a greeting like they had no idea they were rivals, and Billy hated it. He wanted to get rid of them. He wanted to dump boiling coffee over their head. He wanted to rip out their intestines and-
Bad Billy! Bad for having bad thoughts again! Stupid, nasty Billy! Stupid-
Billy took in a long, deep breath, just like his therapist taught him to, focusing on the way his lungs filled with air and collapsed when he exhaled. He played with the hem of his sweater, worn from years of doing so, feeling the way the fibers ran across his fingertips. He sighed, wishing for just one day without intrusive thoughts, but knowing he'd never be granted that sort of reprieve. No, it wasn't something he'd ever be cured from...but it was something he was learning to manage better as the years went by.
He glanced around the shop, hoping none of the customers noticed his little episode. Thankfully, they all seemed absorbed in their activities and conversations.
Billy sighed, a bit relieved. He wiped off some glitter that had fallen onto the counter from the tinsel hanging above him, hoping none had gotten into his hair again, when the front door of the shop opened. Glancing up he saw a woman and a young boy walk in and make their way over to the counter. They were regulars, coming every single Tuesday for the Valentine's Day special.
"Welcome to ‘Fa-la-latte’, what can I get'cha?" Billy asked with a smile plastered on his face.
"I'd like a Sweetheart iced coffee," she gestured towards the boy. "And he just wants a strawberry muffin. To go, please."
Billy nodded and spun around to get to work, withholding the eye roll he nearly gave her. If he had one more customer order the iced coffee he was going to take it off the menu.
He didn't notice the bell on the door ring, too focused on his internal dialogue and making a damn good iced coffee (or, as good as iced coffee is going to get). Even if he had to make the same damn thing every Tuesday, he wasn't one to disappoint.
Shoving the lid of the coffee with one hand, he grabbed a muffin in the other, putting it in a bag and setting them both on the counter. The boy, like any child would, grabbed the muffin almost immediately, and Billy rang up the price on the cash register. While the woman pulled out her card, Billy saw the person behind them.
Billy's eye twitched and his pupils narrowed at the sight before him.
It was them.
The absolute nerve this person had was astonishing. They thought it'd be okay to just show up whenever they wanted? In his shop? The shop they were practically stealing money from by simply existing? With their little stupid, ugly smile, and their stupid-
"Thank you!" the woman's loud voice broke Billy out of his thoughts, taking her coffee and exiting the shop with the boy in tow.
Billy's knuckles were white as they walked up to him, a smile on their face. He saw through their facade. He wasn't falling for that sweet demeanor.
"Wow, they weren't kidding when they said you had a lot of options!" they said, eyes wide as they looked at the signs above Billy's head. "It must be exhausting having to have a different menu for each day!"
Billy's jaw began to hurt from clenching, eyes raking over their form as they rattled on about things he didn't care about.
"So, Tuesday is Valentine's Day, huh? What would you recommend for a newcomer?"
Billy blinked, "What?"
"I came to try it out myself! Everybody keeps raving about how good your stuff is, and I wanted firsthand experience!"
Oh. Oh this sneaky- They wanted to taste it so they could copy him! They wanted to steal his ideas and sell it for half price! He was so close to just leaning over the counter and grabbing them by the throat-
But, he couldn't just cause a scene in front of his loyal customers! This coffee shop was supposed to be their quiet space, where everyone could just relax and enjoy themselves. He wasn't about to ruin it for them, and risk losing business.
Gathering himself, Billy gave them a sickly sweet smile, "Well, everyone orders the Sweetheart Iced Coffee."
They shifted on their feet, "Is that what you would order?"
Oh they were good...
"No," Billy leaned on the counter. "I'd order the latte."
They glanced up to the sign, "Just a regular latte?"
"Yup."
Seemingly dumbfounded, they shrugged and said, "Alright. One medium latte, please!"
Sending them one last smile before he turned around, Billy scowled and got to work.
Who'd they fucking think they were? 'oNe MeDiUm LaTtE pLeAsE!' Like he was gonna make them one of his specialty drinks anyway! Still...if they were out for his recipe, they would've been more insistent to order a specialty drink, wouldn't they? He glanced back at them, watching the way they looked around the shop with an awed expression. Their acting skills were top notch, he'd give them that.
Billy shook his head, trying to stop himself from mumbling. A few phrases escaped his lips despite his efforts. He heard them laugh softly, and he nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to scream at them to get out. An image of stabbing them in the eyes with a candy cane abruptly took over his thoughts, and he couldn't help but muse over it with a satisfied hum. He'd watch as their blood warmed the candy in his hands, mixing into a sugary, sticky mess-
NO! Bad Billy! Bad, bad, BAD BILLY! Naughty, NASTY-
Billy closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the way the coffee machine hummed.
"You have her father's love, Demetrius. Let me have Hermia's. Do you marry him?" Billy muttered in a low voice, steaming some milk with an iron grip. "Scornful, Lysander! True, he hath my love-"
"Are you quoting Shakespeare?"
Billy pointedly ignored them, trying not to break the handle on his coffee machine as he turned the steamer off while he murmured to himself, a bit softer than before, "And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I do estate unto Demetrius."
He poured the milk into the coffee, swirling it into a neat, but not overly exotic heart. It was Valentine's Day themed, after all, and he wasn't about to get ridiculed for a sloppy job. Turning to set it down in front of them, he was briefly stunned to find they'd moved to sit over at the bar near him. His fingers twitched as he inhaled sharply, plastering a smile back on his face as he shakily set the cup down in front of them.
Their eyes scanned him for a long moment before falling to the latte in front of them, sending him a small smile and a thanks. Billy gave them a sickening "You're welcome" before turning to clean up, ignoring the pleased hum they gave after their first sip. He was mumbling to himself again while he washed out some used cups when they spoke.
"So, are you in a play?"
Billy paused for a moment, confused, "What?"
"Oh, you were just reciting lines, so I thought maybe you were trying to keep them memorized," they shrugged, and then lifted their cup of coffee. "This is really good, by the way!"
"Were you expecting it to be bad?" he bit out, a bit more harshly than intended.
"No, no! I'm just used to coffee that's not so great," they shrugged.
"If you wanted bad coffee, you should've ordered the Americano," Billy mumbled.
The laugh he earned stunned him, his thoughts pausing for a moment to take in the sight of their smile. Despite his suspicions, the twinkle in their eyes seemed genuine enough... It would be so easy to put that light out...make their eyes as dull as his own can be. Turn the whites into a scarlet-stained-
A cup shattered in Billy's grasp, slicing the silence like a knife through butter. A curse escaped his lips before he thought better of it, echoing throughout the room. Some of the customers looked in his direction. Billy wanted to apologize, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. He lowered his head a bit, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair, and shakily gathered the broken ceramic from the sink. Thankfully, he hadn't cut himself.
You should have, stupid, stupid Billy! You deserve it! Bad Billy! Bad-
"Are you alright?"
Billy turned to them, eyes manic. He relished in the way they tried to hide their discomfort.
"I'm fine," he bit out.
Billy seized the opportunity for a bathroom break, escaping the hellscape that was his coffee shop. Standing in the middle of the small bathroom, he spent the next few minutes trying to even his breathing. In, and out. In, and out. The breathing technique left a lot to be desired, and didn't do much for his racing thoughts...but it was better than nothing. If anything, at least he could tell his therapist he'd put in the effort. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, unsurprised to see a murderous gaze looking back at him.
"If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended," Billy muttered, hands gripping the sink. "That you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. Heh! Dramatic."
Shaking himself off, Billy inhaled and exited the restroom.
They were still there, sipping their coffee and eyeing him as he walked back behind the counter. He sent them a smile, as though nothing had happened less than five minutes before. They blinked at him, confused, but Billy paid them no mind. Instead, he decided to make himself a latte. His hands were still quite shaky, and his heart had yet to really calm itself down. He fumbled with the steamer a bit, but managed to complete the drink with no mishaps.
"So...which holiday is your favorite?"
Billy stared at them as he sipped his latte.
"Mine is Halloween! I'm curious to know what the Death Brew tastes like," they smiled. "Is it bitter?"
Billy's eyes were glued to them as they patiently awaited his answer, and he took his time swallowing his coffee. They wanted to know what his brew tasted like, huh? They were definitely out to steal his recipe.
"It tastes like death," he replied. "Hints the name."
He jumped when they laughed out loud, apparently finding his sarcasm amusing. Billy hated the little butterfly that flew around in his tummy, and promptly squashed it with an eye roll and a huff.
Billy watched as they continued to look around at all the different decorations adorning the coffee shop, seemingly in admiration, but he couldn't be too sure. This person was crafty, and he had to be ready for anything. They were clearly looking for some way to ridicule him, or one-up him, and he would not allow it.
Still...the twinkle in their eyes...and the soft smile that settled on their lips...
"Christmas."
Their sparkling eyes turned back to Billy, "What?"
"My favorite holiday is Christmas," Billy said.
They smiled at him, "I should've known...there's a lot of tinsel hanging around in here."
Billy looked down at his latte, trying to sort through his racing thoughts. He hadn't felt this unsettled in a while, and it was a feeling he hadn't wished to relive.
"Your place is a lot calmer than mine," they said airily. "It's nice..."
Billy's eye twitched. He couldn't tell if that was a compliment, or a well-hidden insult. He just hummed in reply, trying not to appear as frazzled as he felt. However, he was sure the trembling in his hands was giving him away.
"Christmas is on Saturday, right?" they asked.
He nodded and they gave him a sweet smile.
"Well, I might have to come back in a few days, then," they replied, hopping off of the bar stool. "I'll see you around! Thanks for the coffee!"
Baffled, Billy watched them leave with his mouth hanging open. He stared until he saw them disappear behind the door of their own coffee shop.
Everything about that interaction had gone strangely, in his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was because it had been strange or if it was just him who found it odd. They'd seemed genuinely curious about everything, not with ill intentions in mind. However, they'd left so abruptly...almost like they did it on purpose.
They were probably scared of Billy. They probably heard him mumbling nasty things under his breath and ran away- T-they knew Billy is bad! They knew Billy has bad thoughts! Bad, bad thoughts! They- They...
They didn't fucking pay for their coffee.
Billy nearly saw red, glaring at the empty cup that sat on the counter. With shaking hands he grabbed it, doing his best not to toss it across the room in frustration. He froze, however, when he saw a small slip of paper flutter on the table where the cup had been sitting. Curiosity peaked, Billy set the cup in the sink and then picked the paper up between in fingers.
"Feel free to stop by my shop any time for a free coffee! We've got lattes ;)"
Billy didn't enjoy the way his face felt as it flushed, and he really didn't enjoy this new feeling of butterflies in his stomach. And yet, a grin split on his face, and a cackle escaped his lips, earning a few glances. He turned to see them staring at him through their own window. They grinned and waved at him, and he choked.
If they were so insistent on stealing his recipes, he'd just have to return the favor. He wanted to see what all those customers saw in their stupid coffee shop. They probably batted their stupid eyelashes at people, and smiled their stupid smile-
Their stupid, goofy smile... Made their eyes crinkle at the corners... He could think of many different ways they could use that mouth of theirs-
No! Bad, naughty Billy! Having naughty thoughts at work! Bad! Bad! BAD!
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animorphssss.....2!
ok one L abt reading the series on my ereader is that the flipbook illustrations arent there ;_; those were my favvvvv
anyways I love animorphs still
I feel like I'll end up repeating myself a lot during these little liveblogs lmao but mannnn it’s so good. its so hardcore. like I know that that’s the whole Thing but I still get shocked by some of the stuff that happens
like a big theme in the series centers around the morality of killing your enemies - and it’s so all over the place bc in book 6 you have jake boiling a bunch of yeerks alive, which is kinda gnarly if you think abt it, but the alternative would be to leave them there and let them infest people soo...? and that’s basically the point, that there are never any easy choices in war
also I went on the animorphs wiki to look at trivia bc I love doing that and I cant BELIEVE (some of) the books were reissued in 2011 and they changed/removed some of the references to be more ‘modern’ omfg....talk about erasing 90s culture smh
likeeee I was born in 97 so I didn't exactly grow up in the 90s and therefore some of the references go over my head but its so charming and fun to have them there! and it makes sense given that the books are SET in the 90s
I don't remember ever being confused by any of the references as a kid (tho for sure a lot of them went over my head), but then again I read the books in like 2008 sooo
also some of the stuff that they change - like changing ‘recorded w/a vcr’ to ‘recorded w/the TV’ or ‘floppy disc’ to ‘flash drive’ may make more sense to modern audiences, but doesn't make sense in the context of the story still being set in the 90s
tho it is funny that the books use the phrase ‘hook up’ to mean ‘meet up’ a lot bc that is a phrase that definitely has a different meaning nowadays
alsooooo as it turns out I'm p sure I only read a couple of the spinoffs - the hork-bajir chronicles and the ellimist chronicles (which was confusing lmao), bc my library didn’t have the others :( 2007/2008 woes....
but now I get to read the spinoffs woooooooo so I read the first megamorphs and the andalite chronicles
I'm reading them in the chronological order (I think?) which is good bc part of the problem was that I read the ellimist book at a completely weird time and it confused me more lmao
megamorphs 1 basically felt like a regular animorphs book except longer, but the plot didn't feel like it needed all that extra page space tbh? even so it was an entertaining adventure
and rachel having amnesia was great, amnesia is one of my fav tropes lmao. and it was a lot of fun here, though a bit underutilized
another favorite trope of mine is time travel, so I'm gonna have a really fun time here w/that
as for the andalite chronicles, I really enjoyed that one. I thought it was a well done story about the horrors of war (which is a theme animorphs does excellently), kind of similar to the overarching story of the whole series, but fit into one book without feeling rushed
the way the story starts out with elfangor wanting to be a hero, not understanding what that entails, to the end where he IS going to be a hero, and he knows now that this is a burden rather than a reward
the horror elements are also really strong, with the taxxon morph being horrifying of course
and mannnn I loved that we got to see more of the taxxons as a species, and see that not all taxxons submitted to the yeerks - which breaks the previous theme of ‘all the taxxons are evil just because’
this book also establishes that the taxxons gave themselves over to the yeerks due to their constant hunger being unbearable, so it isn’t just that they’re evil for fun
animorphs does such an excellent job showing that each ‘side’ of a war will have good and bad (or at least sympathetic and unsympathetic) people
also loren was awesome, what a cool character. though I didn't realize she was literally like 13 until the very end of the book, holy shit. that's crazy. i thought she was 16 at the youngest....geez. her throwing a rock at visser 3 is even more iconic knowing she's a middle schooler at the time
and chapman was here! I'm assuming this must be the same chapman as the assistant principal controller... I thought it was a little strange to put chapman in that role, bc in this book he was a huge asshole basically the entire time, but in the previous (’future’) book it was revealed that he became a controller willingly only to spare his daughter, which is pretty far from this book where he’s actively trying to sell humanity out to the yeerks...people change I guess? (also he got his memory erased so I guess there's that)
alloran was a really interesting character. horrors of war again - we hear from his old buddy that he used to be a fun, witty guy, but war changed him into somebody who would do horrible things
and him becoming a controller was horrifying, obviously, but I like that alloran wasn't portrayed as some perfect, holy guy in order to make it all the more tragic when he got infested. its already fucked up enough as it is, and making him flawed was a lot more meaningful
and him wanting to flush all the yeerks out into space....oooooof the (later) parallels hurt
plus the fact that elfangor refusing to commit genocide against the helpless yeerks (even though they’re the enemy) directly contributing to alloran becoming a controller.....oof. I love that it shows that even making the morally correct decisions during war can lead to awful things happening, but not in a way that endorses evil actions - the story isn’t saying that elfangor should have killed the yeerks, it’s saying that there are no good choices in war
arbron being trapped as a taxxon was fucked up. but also really intriguing, especially how he found purpose and led a free taxxon uprising. I don't remember if we hear from him/the free taxxons again but I hope so
also the plot twist of tobias being elfangors SON...bruh. I do remember that despite not having read this book so it must come up in the main story later but my memory of that is vauge so I’m excited to see how that plays out. it’s always gonna be hilarious to me that ax is technically tobias’s uncle
and then the ellimist drops in and wacks up the time stream even more. classic. I love the crazy time travel stuff in animorphs
omfg and the bits where elfangor is a human tech guy and talked about his friends bill and steve LMAOOOOO
also the scene where elfangor drives the yellow mustang while blasting '(I cant get no) satisfaction’ by the rolling stones was one of the most iconic things I've ever read
basically I loved all the angles of war fucking people up. from loren’s dad, to alloran, to elfangor himself learning about the true horrors of war...v well done imo
ok back to the main series - so my pick for the most fucked up scene SO FAR (in my own personal opinion) - the scene where they're in the jungle and rachel passes out in bear morph and a bunch of rainforest ants start EATING HER ALIVE and like crawling into her ears and mouth and HGGGGGG that was genuinely so fucking disturbing
its a good thing that the time travel made it so rachel couldn't remember that bc that was fuuuuucked
another contender is a scene we don't actually see - erek having his capacity for violence instated and then slaughtering a ton of human and hork-bajir controllers
like damn, you know its fucked up when its too fucked up for ANIMORPHS to even ‘show.’ this is a series that doesn't pull punches but evidentially that would've been Too Much to actually portray (understandably). also i feel like seeing the aftermath/everyone’s reactions had more of an impact than describing erek killing a bunch of people would have
also I forgot that marco Literally Fucking Dies during that scene and that's why he doesn't get to see the slaughter. wow
and then in the very next book JAKE dies too. jesus
oh it was also so sad and fucked up when marco’s dad told him that he and his wife used to fight sometimes, but then all of a sudden they stopped fighting, and their relationship was basically entirely peaceful and perfect - and this is how marco knows exactly when his mom was made into a controller, bc of course a yeerk wouldn't care enough to get into petty arguments like that....ooooof
Okay and book 15 really got me...that was fucking heavy man. Geeeez. Everything w/Marco and his mom is so fucked uppppp
Like he literally has to deal with so much awful traumatizing shit. The scene where he pretends to be a controller and is face to face w/visser one and THAT HIS MOM but he can’t even do anything, and he just sees the evil in her eyes and thinks about how there’s no way she had been controlled by a yeerk that long before bc he’s never seen her look like that...that was so fucking sad.
Plus Marcos mom now thinking that Marco is a controller...aughh...and then later Marco knows he can’t even think-speak to her bc he’ll just talk about everything he’s wanted to talk about to his mom this whole time... ;_;
And the parts where Marcos humor slips and the utter rage he feels towards the situation comes through...man
Plus everything about him being understandably afraid of sharks after being nearly torn in half by one back during their first dolphin adventure
Augh oh and jake telling Marco that everyone can tell something is up bc Marco isn’t joking around and talking about how insane their plan is like usual, so Marco fakes it sand does all that even tho he’s terrified and conflicted...aughhhh
Ok and the last scene where Marco is thinking about a future where he and his parents can talk plainly about how awful and traumatizing everything is, and then eventually they’ll feel okay enough to joke about it, bc Marcos mom is the one who taught him to look at the funny side of life...Oh The Pain
There were a lot of great fucked up individual lines in this book too. I’m just so sad about these poor middle schoolers jfc
Also I do distinctly remember the scene where they collapse the shark tank at Ocean World or w/e, it was weird af reading it bc I remembered none of the rest of the book but got weird deja vu reading that scene and remembering having read it like 13+ years ago
if it’s not clear by now I have a pretty terrible memory for media which is honestly good bc then I can reread things and it’s like new
Also jake...man...I said it previously but I was kinda eh about jake when I first read these bc he’s kinda the ‘basic’ character, but now I find his story much more interesting
His conflict over being leader is really good. KAA does a fantastic job capturing the pressure he’s under bc he was chosen by his friends to be the leader, so he REALLY can’t back out, and he doesn’t necessarily feel up to it, but feels he has no choice in the matter...
And constantly having to make really difficult decisions that could get his friends killed...geez. It’s so much pressure. And he talks about wanting to go back to being a normal kid when this is all over, and it kinda strikes me as him being in denial - like, there’s no way things can ever be ‘normal’ again, but that’s his way of coping.
Especially with Tom and all that. That conflict is so compelling...jake having to play all these different roles - as leader, as a son/student, as a regular brother to Tom - he’s constantly having to act a certain way and rarely gets to be Himself
It’s actually kinda relatable in a way - that feeling of being In Charge, but in a somewhat abstract and informal way, so you feel like regular old you, but you have to carefully regulate how you act bc the people around you expect a certain standard of behavior from you...
And all the morally grey situations they’re put in are fucked up, but especially for jake who has the final say on what they do, even when knowing it could lead to his friends being killed or made into controllers
Like in the book with the cannibal yeerk guy - there’s basically no good choices there. Jake lets the cannibal live, and (at first) implies that it’s for the best that he’s cannibalizing other yeerks and therefore helping get rid of some yeerks - except that he kills their hosts too
but the alternative would be to directly kill another human being who isn't actively fighting/resisting you, which is a fucked up thing for a middle schooler to have to do
And the conflict between jake and Cassie is really excellent bc jake has to make these awful decisions, and Cassie is the type of person who can’t stand that sort of thing, so it gets left up to jake a lot, but then she’s upset with jake for doing something awful, even while knowing that there were no better options
like, her asking jake to kill the cannibal guy for her was really fucked up, but also entirely understandable for cassie as a character to ask. it was an emotionally charged situation, and cassie is an emotional person. she’s also somebody who like to Act, to do concrete good, and getting rid of an Evil Bad Guy in front of her would be a definite action
But Cassie is a great source of morality to the group - most of them are pretty jaded, but Cassie is able to hope in a way none of the rest are. It creates a really compelling dynamic between jake and Cassie that I kinda dismissed when I was like 10 or w/e
Also the scene where jake as a fly gets crushed and starts dying? Seriously fucked. And then after when he’s nearly breaking down in the airport and Cassie comforts him...that was a really good scene. Cassie is so good
And the continuity is so excellent - I love how in book 17, Cassie (and jake to an extent) doesn’t really weigh in on the moral debate abt the oatmeal bc she’s still shaken up by asking jake to murder a guy for her, and then (presumably) going ahead and lighting his house on fire when jake doesn’t kill him
And augh jake and Marco have such a good and interesting dynamic - the entire group kinda pushes each other into their respective ‘roles’ in the group, but for a few books that’s really true for jake and marco
I don't remember what book it was but at some point marco (I think) mentions that jake understands what marco is dealing with w/his mom being a controller bc of tom, but that they don’t talk about it bc they ‘don't talk about stuff like that’ or something and I'm just like noooo talk to each other :(
but at this point jake feels like he can’t really express doubt and fear and stuff like that bc he’s the Leader and they look to him to be strong (which is ironically very similar to how rachel feels), and marco feels like he can’t be serious bc he’s the funny guy.
Basically I love all the different dynamics in the group. How Cassie and Rachel are such opposites but are best friends and get along well, while Marco and Cassie are more directly opposed - as jake says, Marco is ruthless, and Cassie definitely isn’t. Rachel and Marco are also pretty different which is interesting, bc they have a lot in common, and actually agree on a lot (even if they disagree out loud) but their commonalities combined with their circumstances make them react very differently to the same situations
I also love seeing the differences between characters from each other’s POV - like, p much all the characters think that Rachel is completely fearless, but when the book is from her POV, we get to see that that isn’t true at all - she feels plenty of fear, but she recognizes that her role in the group is to be the fearless one, so she pushes aside her fear to fit into that role (which inadvertently pushes her more and more into that ‘fearless warrior’ box - something that happens to all the characters more and more as the story goes on, like jake as ‘the leader’ and Marco as ‘the jokester’).
Also I loooove the grey morality of literally everything. Like the book where ax discovers an andalite traitor - not a controller, just an andalite who betrayed them to the yeerks. This leads to the deaths of like a hundred other andalites, and that whole scene you really just feel for ax, bc he feels so awful about everyone else dying while he escapes, yet he’s also so grateful to be alive, which he in turn feels bad about...
And ax’s conflict about being torn between his home w/his fellow andalites and his new home on earth w/his friends is great
And oh man I fucking love book 19. Any of the books where it goes more into the yeerks and their side of things are so good, just like the book where jake was made into a controller.
And book 19, where we meet a sympathetic yeerk, comes right after 18, where we meet an andalite traitor - again, I love how we clearly see that no one side is completely good or completely bad
So yeah book 19 fucking slapped. That shit was so compelling. I love how Cassie made a bunch of foolish decisions based on naïve hope, but it worked out!! Things aren’t always bleak and awful!
Except there were plenty bleak and awful parts of this book. It had a great balance of moods tbh, even though a lot of the situations were extremely contrived lmao. I love the stuff that aftran says, which is basically what I was thinking when I started my reread - being a yeerk fucking sucks, you’re literally a blind slug but also completely and fully sentient, on the same level as humans and andalites - and as afran pointed out this book, the yeerks are born as parasites, just as humans are born as predators - why is it okay for the humans to kill countless animals to eat, but not for the yeerks to enslave races to act as hosts? Well, the situation isn’t totally comparable, which Cassie and Marco both point out when aftran makes that comparison - the yeerks are enslaving sentient species, and cows and chickens are not the same as the humans and hork-bajir (though the story understandably doesn’t fall too deeply into the ‘who deserves what right/animal sentience’ rabbit hole).
And I like that aftran points out that the yeerks basically have 2 options currently - stay helpless and blind in a yeerk pool, or enslave a host. It’s interesting to hear that a lot of yeerks don’t like doing this but see it as the only options, as opposed to complete sensory deprivation. It makes me wonder if there are yeerks who are so staunchly against it that they elect to stay as pool-bound slugs forever
Also maybe it’s the shounen anime fan in me but I don’t even care that much that Cassie’s entire plan was completely off the rails and hinged on only the slightest chance of success - with failure being much more likely and completely catastrophic, with the animorphs and their loved ones all being wiped out, vs success being unlikely and also achieving...a moral victory? Peace between two enemy combatants in a huge war? nothing all that concrete...anyways it was a bunch of good-faith horrible decisions on Cassie’s part, but I don’t even care? I love stories where hope and love save the day against all odds, especially when they’re wielded like weapons by a character and make everything end nicely
This is especially true here bc animorphs is generally a series that leans very far away from that type of thing, so when it does happen, it feels like a victory. Plus the David trilogy is next so we kinda need a happy ending while we can
also bc I compared animorphs to hxh last time, I now have to compare it to the other series I've (partially) liveblogged, transformers mtmte.
this is gonna be more abstract and brief but basically. mtmte is all about after the war, and everyone has so much trauma and everything just sucks, so they all go on a space cruise and work on themselves. basically.
but the series does a lot of exploration of how war fucks people up - same as animorphs, tho animorphs spans the beginning of the war (for the main characters at least) until the end, whereas mtmte starts when the war ends.
but the point is. both series do an excellent job showcasing the wide range of reactions people have to being put in unthinkable situations during wartime. all the major characters in mtmte go through arcs where they heal/change from the war, some more subtle than others
basically the animorphs needs to go on a wacky space cruise adventure with a bunch of other fucked up people and figure their shit out, mtmte style
ok this is wicked long already so I’m gonna end it here. also I feel like I should start the next liveblog w/the david triology bc I’m for sure gonna have a lot to say abt that
#i wrote like half of this in my phone notes while on vacation in the wilderness lmao#animorphs#lj reads animorphs
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Mining for Unobtanium 33
Ah, the angst. Oh, here it comes. There’ll probably be some more smut. But for now? ANGST. Angsty angst. Ninety three followers. Slowly creeping towards 100. Never thought I would see the day. Honestly.
WARNING. Angsty as f*ck. 18 and over, Adult themes. Teh Secks.
I found a job in Thailand, and was negotiating a start date for right around the time he went back to filming. I just hadn't figured out how to actually make my exit. I did what came naturally to me in difficult times. I got out the heavy weight paper, and the good pens and started to write. " Look, love, I've got to go. Its for the best, really. No woman worth you will start dating you with me lurking around, peeking out from behind potted palms. And I KNOW you want a family. A traditional one. Like everyone else in your family. You are perfect husband material, and you're going to be the most doting dad that ever there was. I hope you have a daughter. She will wrap you around her finger like taffy. And enough boys for rugby, of course. You know I still want to be a part of your life, I just know that it may not be possible. I promise you will always know where to find me, and if you really need me, I will always have your six. Text me the phrase we agreed upon, and I will drop everything and be right at your side, as fast as I possibly can. Whenever, wherever. That's my word bond to you. While I draw breath, I am yours. But, Hen, you must understand I love you far too much to keep you from your dreams, or worse, to have you wake one day and see those beautiful eyes tinted with regret or resentment. I couldn't bear it. Find a woman who loves you for you. If you retired, and built ships in boats ( and how DO they do that, anyway?) She should love you just as much as if you were fifty feet tall in Times Square. Make sure she's self entertaining. If you get lost on a quest, she needs to be able to find her own things to do, that she loves, and you'd best encourage those things. Share her passions like I know she will want to share yours. Don't fall for that stalker shite, sugar. I know, I'm going to tease you about that till the Fourteenth of forever. That's funny. Never let your PR people pick your dates. Somebody who's rude to staff or servers or underlings NEVER EVER gets a second date. If KAL doesn't like her, run away, FAST. Find a woman who makes you laugh. And who loves sex and intimacy as much as you do, and make sure she understands that those are two separate things. There will come a time when sex will not be as spontaneous, when you've got to work at making time to be a couple, and not mummy and daddy. Never take each other for granted. Appreciation and honest kind words go so far. Harsh words cause the deepest wounds, tear open the oldest scars. Be gentle with each other. If you can, make her part of your team, and you of hers. Support her work enthusiastically. If you're not worlds away, show up for her things, and the kids things. Nothing is as adorable as the performances of small children, and before you know it, they won't want to spend any time with you..Always foster her independence. It gives her room to grow and she will never run out of ways to contribute. If you give her more than three babies in four years, GET THE WOMAN SOME HELP. And for everyone's sake a nice OLD lady, older than I am. There is no win in the mixture of post partum depression, struggling to get your figure back and some chippie in your house falling all over your husband and "stealing your children". And that woman who comes to help? Her NDA better be tighter than a camel's ass in a sandstorm. I'm trying so hard to not forget anything. I know you and I know once you read this you're going to be quite cross with me and I won't hear from you for a while. You'll be licking your wounds, as will I.” I stepped out to smoke, it didn't help. This was going to be ugly crying. I blew my nose, splashed cold water on my face, and soldiered on. I picked up the pen, not even enjoying the feel of a good pen in my hand, unappreciative of its heft and balance, giving no fucks about the way it glided across the page. I might as well be writing in my own blood. “Cross with me. My talent for understatement, I suppose. You'll be furious. And I'm sorry. I know, its insulting and insufficient. But I am sorry. And you know I would use the fragments of my broken heart to mend yours, but I am not wizard enough to make this what it can never be. I meant what I said. If you need me, I will be there. Be honest with her, about what part I play in your well being.... That at some point you may need to surrender your control. That even Daddies need Daddies. And for both your comfort and your honor, I can promise not to annihilate your marriage vows while providing that for you. You CAN do what it is we do with out sex. It just isn’t as fun. I don't think now that you've opened Pandora's box that it will close easily. I believe the things you've found there resonate too deeply for you to just dismiss them. It is why you came looking in the first place, because you knew that those pieces were missing, there were voids to be filled. But remember, you can’t play these reindeer games with everyone. This can’t get out, can’t be public, so be careful. I know your heart, I have the measure of you. I have no concerns that you'll be callous or unnecessarily cruel. You'll find that edge and ride it like some fucking prize stallion in a steeplechase, but you won't ever be abusive and there will always be love and passion behind what you do, its who you are. Thank you my dearest, for allowing me the opportunity to pass on my skills, and my knowledge. The people that taught me would be so pleased to meet you, to see your heart, your passion, your skill. Bless you for letting me tell you my stories. I know now that they will not disappear. You will never know how much of a gift that was for me, and I can never repay you. All my love in this life and the next..... And I signed it. I folded it and put it in the envelope, and started gathering my things. Time was running out. I sent a box or two back to the States, made arrangements for someone to look after my house, and researched flights. I could be in Bangkok in less than three days, and with a negative Covid test, no quarantine. Going back to work would get me out of my own head, and I knew, if I stayed there, in my head; very bad things were in store for me. They had sent my visas, my work documentation, they emailed my offer letter, and had sent an open ended return ticket. Most of what I needed I could obtain when I got there, and the idea of having a custom tailored wardrobe was very appealing. Plus, its a rainforest jungle. Shorts and t shirts, wraps, sandals, not much more than that, really. Maybe a swimsuit or two. With my vacation days I could see all the places on my bucket list and or do medical tourism. Its funny, to be gone for this long and have it not be that big of a deal, in a pandemic. No one was even looking for me. Now I needed to start working on the Long Goodbye. When he came home that evening I had dinner waiting. Kal's dinner too. I wasn't fucking around. Soft lights, candles, that red wine he liked, I wasn't going to miss a trick. I was all put together, everything shaved, lotioned, make up that looked like I hadn't any make up. I mean, I can't do fresh faced anymore. During dinner we talked and I worked so hard not to lose it completely. I smiled and laughed in the appropriate places, held up my end of the conversation. At the conclusion of the meal I started to tidy up and he followed me into the kitchen. Music was playing and I was humming as I did the dishes. I didn't realize he was leaning against the doorway, watching me. He crossed the space in just a few steps, one arm at my waist and spun me around to face him. I squeaked, startled. He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss, took my hand and danced around the kitchen with me ...... Henry singing in my ear "Ooooh, I been missing you And the way you make me feel inside What can I do? I can tell you’ve got your pride now, baby Come to me (oh well, oh well) Let me ease your mind (oh babe) I’ve got the remedy, yes I do Now give me just a little time (Here in my mind, Girl, I wanna shake you down) I wanna rock you down (I can give you all the lovin you need) I’m gonna love you (Come on let me take you down) Oh well or well (We’ll go all the way to heaven)* Gregory Abbott “ Shake You Down” I was pulled up tight against him, one of his legs in between mine as we slow danced, my head on his shoulder, I was practically purring. Back in the day we called that cock dragging. He led magnificently, I didn't think about how clumsy I usually was or where my feet were going, he just guided me around the kitchen singing to me, dancing. I looked up at him, lost in those deep soulful eyes....
" You were three when this song came out" I laughed. " I have several older brothers and the music you love brings back great memories. " As the song ended he dipped me, practically to the floor, and I didn't panic. His strong arms had me I was secure and knew I wouldn't fall. Well, not from being dipped.He ran his tongue up my sternum, between my breasts, up my neck to finally claim my mouth.
@indigosaurus @fishcustardandclintbarton @tinareher @whyyoudothistomecavill @littlefreya @angryschnauzer @dancingwendigo
@michellemybelles-world @geraltsbottomsbottom
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i’m alive.
i really am lmao. just gone through a pretty bad mental state tho. i’m trying to write my way through it, and I figured I would share some! it got 10x worse now that I had to move back home from college bc of corona, so i’m going to probably be sporadically writing.
stay healthy y’all! here’ the result of me playing my fifth time through three houses.
You read a poem once. Back in the day when there was enough time to indulge yourself in such frivolities, you used to read a lot of poems. In the fresh, clean winds that blew through the grassy field below the walls of Garreg Mach, you would situate yourself under the same oak tree. Sometimes it would be in the early mornings when the sky was just beginning to wake in a bask of pink, orange, and blue, but more often you would find yourself reading poems about the mortality and searing reality of war and tragic love affairs with only the light of the sun setting illuminating the print. Each work evocating a pain you should have expected before picking them off the shelf.
Perhaps you were always a stickler for things that hurt you.
You don’t know why this particular poem was reiterating itself in your mind right now. It spoke of ice and fire, of death and desire, and of the world dying all in a mere nine lines.
No, you were lying to yourself. A little more than five years ago, this poem meant nothing to you. It did not wrench your gut like the epics of long-dead heroes and narratives of unrequited love did at the time. The short poem was something you read in a book of one-stanza poems you happened upon in the library before Tomas’s identity even came out. You remember not being able to discern a theme or meaning between the lines. There was no hidden text or interpretation to be done. What was there is what was there.
Now, with blood staining the breeze and fire burning through the land under a black and red flag, you found the lines reciting in your head. The scorching heat of when Edelgard set fire to the center point of Gronder Field as you were in the midst of fighting on the very wood set aflame, the sickening burn of splattered blood on your cheeks of a slain enemy, an enemy you most likely once called friend, and the overwhelming intensity of the endless battles raging through Fodlan.
Goddess, the smoke of the Empire permeated even the air around the monastery.
You exhaled, unable to shake the heavy feeling in your chest. Everyone was shaken from Gronder Field, even Felix, though he would never show or say so. Pointing your blade at the throat of Petra, locking eyes with Claude moments before he released an arrow in your direction (in all fairness, you believe he missed on purpose), they were images cemented in your brain. No prying, no treatment would dilute their intensity, especially as you slept, or tried to. The sun had long set over the mountain, and stars were beginning to peek out into the darkening sky. You huddled more into your cloak to hide from the icy breeze.
Ice.
Where fire burned, ice bit and nipped inside your bones. It left its own white heat in its wake. From the inside out, it crawled and it inched down your nerves, your muscles, your skin. The chill would reside over you for much longer. You looked up at the Goddess tower before you, impermeable in the night. Your heart wrenched. You’d been there on a night not so dissimilar to this one, mind the peace of the time and the ball music muffled by the walls. A happier time where you weren’t forced against old friends 0n the battlefield where you found yourself first connecting with the other houses.
You winced, tears slipping from the squeeze of your eyes. Goddess, you wanted that again. You wanted him again.
But he was ice, a danger as much as the fire was to Fodlan at the moment. Creeping in your core, this was a chill that did not go away in any sauna or in any soup Dedue could stir up in the kitchen, but you did not want to get warm. The heat melts ice, after all, and this ice was so… thin.
You wiped your stray tears. He could not see you cry, not without risking his temper. The boy from years ago, you knew how to do your best with him. He was much more amicable to your advances to help.
With this man now, you toed a thin line.
Fulfilling your promise from five years prior along with the rest of those your professor recruited, you did not expect the boy you fell in love with, the boy whose room you would tip-toe into in the dead of night, the boy you trained with and helped you become the fighter you were now, and the boy who would sacrifice, by his word, everything for you to be the man you saw that day. Least of all did you expect those feelings or some semblance of them, to remain inside his shattered soul, but, along with himself, they festered into something twisted.
Or, perhaps this has been him the entire time, hidden under the persona of royal perfection if Felix’s continued abhorrence spoke to anything. This truth, however, bit back at you. Weren’t you supposed to be the one to see it? Weren’t you supposed to be that endless fountain of unadulterated support? Weren’t you supposed to know him?
This guilt ate away at you. You could have done something. Goddess, anything, yet you missed it, and you stayed away for five years grieving over a man who lives, 0r, at the very least, survives. You had to make up for what you missed, both the time he was left alone here, and everything else under your gaze at the academy,
No matter what it took.
You felt him before you saw him. Despite his seemingly inhuman strength, his footsteps were silent as they traversed across the empty monastery. The wind blowing through the cracks of the wall and ceiling covered up every noise. It almost felt like it was empty, if not for the hands gripping your hips and the heat on your back.
“Dimitri,” you spoke. He was not the vocal boy he once was, the bundle of awkward phrases and misspoken sentences. Dimitri communicated in touch now, feel, because words outside of threats of death and useless soothings to the dead were not part of any love language. His hands, icy despite his body heat, traversed up your side. You did not jump or try to escape when he neared what you already knew he was looking for. Trying to escape anything he does only leads to more misery. “I tried to patch it up myself on the march back. Didn’t want to bother anyone.” You winced as his claw put mild pressure on the poor excuse of a bandage.
His head wrapped around to observe your face, and you prayed you had hidden the evidence of your sorrow well enough. Unfortunately, his remaining eye was still as discerning.
“Do you weep for them?”
“W-what?”
“Those fools. Those who would get in our way, are your tears for them?” Despite your fear, you knew Dimitri would not harm you. At least, not kill you, so you risked turning around, forcing his arms back to his side.
“Dimitri…”
“They would stop me from ridding these ghosts, these demons, and yet you cry for their deaths? They are no longer your peers. Anyone who gets in our way is an enemy, no matter the past, and they hurt you. They hurt you, Y/N. I’ll crush anyone who dares touch what is mine.”
“It’s just a scratch.” From saving your self-destructing ass from getting spliced by a lance. You decided to forego that part. “I should have had Manuela or Mercedes look at it before.”
“No.” Abruptly, he turned his back, the fur of his cape hitting you in the process. His large, hulking form retreated into the chapel. You followed wordlessly. “Sit.” Again, you complied. He pulled from beneath the nearby pew a small box of medical supplies. “No one touches you but me. Strip.”
“It’s cold.”
“Strip.” In the breeze, you lifted your shirt off. His hands were long passed the point of calloused. Under the gloves, his skin was rough as he cleaned the dried blood from your skin and continued to address the wound. The finished product wasn’t nearly as well done as if your priests had done it, but it would do. “No one touches you but me.”
“Okay.” Dimitri stood and made his way to his regular spot. Murmurs started not so long after. At his side, you would stand. Then, by his legs, you would sit. Finally, at his feet, you would lie. The rubble digging into your back and Dimitri’s growls of promised vengeance to the dead lulled you into the same restless sleep as always.
#dimitri x reader#yandere dimitri#yandere dimitri x reader#yandere fire emblem#yandere three houses#honestly tho on brand for post time skip dimitri so#need i even tag yandere#tho for theme i will
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chained // yoongi // 02
↪ PAIRING: Min Yoongi/Reader ↪ SUMMARY: Min Yoongi, a demon, has been ordered to protect you as punishment for his crimes; no matter what…and he’s not happy about it. ↪ WORD COUNT: 5k
↪ WARNINGS: general violence | rough sex | dark themes | more filthy demon sex
a/n: i’m sorry this took forever to get published. believe it or not it actually went through three re-writes, which is why i’ve added a third chapter. if you’re a little confused/surprised by this part don’t worry, all will be revealed :D ALSO, I don’t know if anyone noticed but this story is heavily inspired by the show A Korean Odyessy, which I def recommend! thanks for being so patient and I hope everyone enjoys this part!
ONE | TWO | THREE
The next day when you awoke the first thing you felt was pain.
Not only had Yoongi really pounded you he'd bit your neck also. It seared with pain and you felt stiff as you rolled over. It had felt good at the time but you were suffering now. Your body ached.
You stood, slowly, your muscles screaming at you and started to dress. The words Yoongi spoke about your outfit the night before ringing in your head. The mirror on your nightstand revealed a freshly healed, painstakingly obvious set of teeth prints on your jugular. Already there was some dark purple, almost black bruises forming. You slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and made your way to your living room. Yoongi lay on your sofa, an arm slung across his face covering his eyes. You wondered if he was sleeping.
"Y/N." He slowly sat up, wincing a little. Definitely not sleeping, then.
"You're still here." You said, feeling a little awkward seeing as you literally had sex only a few hours ago.
"Something is wrong." You froze a few feet away from the sofa. He turned to look at you and his eyes were back to that fiery hazel colour you recognised.
"What's going on?"
"You're in pain and it's causing me pain." He held in a groan, face screwing up as he spoke. You noted the tattoo around his neck that was peeking out of the collar of his shirt looked as if it was glowing. Did it do that before? You swore it didn't.
"Didn't that happen before?" You asked uncertainly.
"Yes. But now it's tenfold. I can feel...everything."
You walked over to where he sat, keeping yourself a few feet away. For some reason you didn't want to get too close to him but you weren't sure why, something instinctual flaring up within you. "I'm not sure I understand. You're saying it's suddenly worse?"
"Yes." He looked distressed. Upon closer inspection he looked like he was sweating. "I can practically hear your thoughts y/n. That's definitely fucking new."
"You can hear my thoughts?" You repeated, astonished. It felt almost as if he was playing some ridiculous joke on you.
"I phrased that wrong." He shook his head. "Not literally, it's more like an instinct. It always was but it's so intense I can't even really feel what I'm feeling."
"Is this because we...we, uh, had sex?" You really didn't want to discuss this with him after yesterday, intent on just moving on like it never happened but you hadn't expected to see him like this.
"Don't flatter yourself, human." He scoffed. You instantly felt as if you were a few inches tall, ego thoroughly bruised. "It's because I ingested your blood. Human blood doesn't normally do this to me, I think it's - clashing, with the binding spell."
"Will it pass over time? You won't be like this forever right?" You asked curiously.
"I have no idea. This is new."
You thought for a moment about what to do. Yoongi had helped you out so much you only wanted to return the favour. However you knew nothing about his world, the rules that he was bound to or why you were even involved in the first place. So you took a shot. "Would it help if you left? You don't have to stay with me."
"I tried, y/n." He said. The hurt that you felt about him trying to skip out on you was palpable. "My skin burned more intensely with each step I got away from you. Even just you being in my proximity now has made a difference. It's not hurting so much anymore."
"Oh."
You were dumbfounded. None of this made any sense to you. Unconsciously you fiddle with the sleeves of your hoodie. What was going to happen now? What if this was permanent? You had to go to work at some point, it's not as if Yoongi could accompany you. How would you even begin to explain that?
"How is your neck? I can feel you're hurting. I did some damage huh?" His eyes flashed with something dark, intense and stormy. Instantly flashbacks of his body melding with yours burned in your mind's eye.
"It's sore." You admitted, absent-mindedly touching at it.
"I can help." He suggested.
"How?"
"Come here and take that hoodie off." He commanded. You didn't move at first, weary of what exactly his intentions were. Nearly an entire minute passed (which felt like an eternity when no one is doing anything) before Yoongi huffed and bridged the gap himself, yanking at the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it up and over your head.
You were left in your nightshirt from earlier and you were still braless. To say the least, you felt exposed. "What are you doing?" You asked as he tugged the neckline of your shirt to reveal you neck fully. His palm hovered over your injury but did not make contact. After a few moments a warm sensation surged through you, as if someone was pouring warm water on your neck. The feeling took over your entire insides, all the way to your finger tips and toes.
"That should help." He murmured.
Immediately your hand went to your neck. The skin felt tender but the scab of his teeth indentation was gone. You walked over to the small mirror that hung on the wall to see for yourself. The injury was gone, your flesh tickled pink from whatever magic he had used.
"Woah," You breathed. "Freaky. What else can you do?" You muttered, more so to yourself than anything.
"More than you'd be able to comprehend." He smirked meeting your gaze in the mirror.
"Well, either way - thanks." You told him. You turned around and reached for the clothing you'd just removed suddenly feeling vulnerable once more. Yoongi's hand darted out to your wrist ceasing your movements. Confusion washed over your features as gave him a questioning look. "What - "
"This is awful." He muttered. "I have this ridiculous desire to be close to you now."
"Oh, um..." You trailed off, unsure of where to even begin in response to that.
"My brain is just screaming at me to throw you on the couch and take you again, just like I did last night."
The blush that crept up your cheeks was instantaneous at his words. "Won't that make whatever is happening to you now worse?" You ask uncertainly.
"Honestly the urge to have you is kind of clouding my rationale here. I don't care if it does. I'll risk it." He drew you close to his lean body, pressing himself against you. You were almost in a trance as you went, unable to look away. "You smell like me." He hummed. His face was so close you felt his hot breath against your lips.
"Like you?"
"Like mine."
In a flash his lips are on yours and his hands on your waist. The kiss is hungry, perhaps even hungrier than the night before. He walked you backward until your body collided with the wall behind you, rattling a picture frame that hung there. Yoongi hiked up one of your thighs, wrapping it around his hip, pressing his visible hardness into you. Both of you let out audible groans of need.
"You really want to do this here?" You manage to get out inbetween kisses. "You know humans fuck in a bed right?"
He let out a breathless laugh at your joke. "We can do that later too if you want. Right now, I'm having you here."
Yoongi doesn't even wait to completely undress you, opting to shove your shirt up to your collarbones and your pants down. Your hands slid along the hardness of his chest, down his stomach and to the hem of his shirt, hinting at him to remove it. He doesn't think twice about it, tearing the garment off at lightning speed.
Now that he's bare you can see more of the tattoos around his neck. For a moment it distracts you but you're brought hurtling back to reality when he roughly pushed his cock into you, barely giving you any warning. "Fuck," You involuntarily gasped at the sensation. It was bordering on painful, given how hard he'd fucked you just a few hours ago.
"Shit, I didn't mean to hurt you." He stilled inside you as he gripped your legs that were round his waist.
"It didn't hurt." You lied.
"Y/n, I felt it. Don't bullshit me." He reprimanded. You wiggled a little, having now adjusted to his size. His cock twitched impatiently within you. "Better." He murmured, kissing you.
He began to push in and out of you, going at an uncharacteristically slow pace, watching your face carefully for reaction. His mouth was slack and he had that look in his eyes again; the one where he looked at you as if you were his favourite meal and he hadn't eaten in years.
"Feels good," You whisper, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. "Keep going."
Yoongi pounded into you harder as you requested. You were crushed between his burning hot skin and the wall, but it wasn't a bad feeling. You felt protected. "Shit, you like this." He growled as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. The pleasure you were feeling radiated throughout him as well. "You like it rough huh?"
"I guess." You squeaked, barely able to manage a coherent thought and throwing your head back. It hit the wall with a dull thud. "Fuck - Yoongi." You moaned.
"I can feel how much you're enjoying my dick in you." He chuckled, nosing at your neck. You tensed, concerned he might bite you but as if he could read your mind he said, "Don't worry babe, I'm not going to feed on you. This time."
He pushed harder into you, moving your body higher up the wall. The new angle was glorious and you felt yourself getting very close to coming. The animalistic noises that fell from his mouth only turned you on more, the fact that he was eager to the point of letting go like that for you - for your body - was thrilling.
"I'm gonna cum, Yoongi!" You cried out as you felt yourself squeeze his cock, another intense orgasm courtesy of the demon fucking you. He was relentless, barely in control. You stared at him as he devoured you, noting how his eyes had gone back to that firey shade once more. You don't recall anyone ever having this much desire for you. It was overwhelming.
When he came a few brutal thrusts later he buried his face in your neck, practically growling your name into your skin. It was only when the high started to wear off you became aware of the vice grip he had on your thighs. There would no doubt be bruises there later.
"This feels too good with you." He groaned as he lifted his head up. You expected him to put you down but he surprised you with a gentle kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to what had just transpired. "I don't normally finish that fast." He laughed.
"Sure," You replied sarcastically along with a laugh of your own. "Put me down, I need to shower."
He slowly pulled his cock out of you and set you on the ground, smirking when you stumbled a little. "I can join you if you want."
***
Later that same day (after another two rounds of sex) Yoongi lay awake as you napped peacefully beside him. You were curled on your side with one hand under your head, thin sheet draped over your naked torso. You looked serene. He could feel it in his chest that you were content and as much as it pained him to admit it, that made him pleased.
He wondered what was so special about you. Why were you so unique that the universe had granted you blood that made him crazy? Without even having to test the theory he knew other demon's would want you too. Frankly, he was concerned none of them had ever gotten to you before.
They definitely wouldn't now he was here. He'd make sure of that.
You stirred beside him, unconsciously reaching for him in your sleep. Your hand made contact with his bare chest. He placed his hand atop of yours securing it there, even some amount of skin to skin contact felt good. He had anticipated this new strong connection to weaken over the last few hours but it hadn't. Yoongi was concerned. That was not normal.
As much as he knew he should have never fed on you, the last few hours of pleasure made him realise he would do it all over again if given the chance. He'd never felt that good before. It was intoxicating and he worried he'd never find the willpower to stop. He was supposed to be a protector, not your lover.
Who would have thought that a human would be Min Yoongi's downfall, he ridiculed to himself as he drifted off to sleep. Not him.
***
Eventually you had to leave. You had human responsibilities, Yoongi was more than aware of. Not that it made him any less grumpy at the prospect of the physical pain that would come without you. He had no choice other than to grin and bear it.
For some reason, alcohol helped the pain. Yoongi had found some in your kitchen cupboards. He had known that it worked for humans, so he was pleasantly surprised when it worked for the agony the spell was bringing him. Any relief, however temporary was welcome at this point.
While you were at work his plan was to feed. Having fed on you twice now he didn't want to risk a third time. It was clear to him that it took a lot out of you by the way your energy levels dipped. You seemed lethargic as you readied yourself that morning. Not only would it be unwise to drink from you, it would be downright idiotic.
Unfortunately, he was hungry, which meant venturing out into the world.
His time on Earth thus far he had fed hundreds of times, usually opting for some scumbag human that deserved to die or at least suffer, as if he was some kind of chaotic vigilante. He was very much looking forward to the thrill of a fresh kill as he made his way out onto the streets.
It would be considerably more difficult to attack in the daylight, but he was a seasoned hunter. The ability of super human strength didn't hurt either.
Yoongi staked out one of his 'regular' haunts. A cafe a few miles from your apartment that teetered on the bad side of town. He would people watch for a while until he saw his target. It didn't take long for him to find exactly what he was looking for. It took even less time to drag the unsuspecting victim around the back of some industrial buildings where he could rip their throat out in peace.
He threw the lifeless body of his victim to the ground with little regard when he had finished eating, feeling much more like himself. Spending so much time around you lately had disconnected him slightly from his true sense of self, something he hadn't noticed until now. He dragged the body behind a dumpster. When he had successfully hidden the corpse he turned round to face something he hadn't encountered yet on earth.
Another demon.
"Min Yoongi, as I live and breathe."
He recognised him instantly. The scar's on his face and hands, messy black hair and hooded eyes. Taehyung was rather infamous back in his world. Notoriously reckless, ruthless, with a don't-give-a-fuck-attitude to boot. Yoongi thought he was an annoying little shit who caused more trouble than he was worth.
The first time their paths had crossed was when Taehyung antagonised a group of much older, much more powerful demons, almost getting himself obliterated in the process. Yoongi had reluctantly saved his life. Yoongi had also regretted it ever since.
"Why are you here on earth?" Yoongi practically growled, using the sleeve of his forearm to swipe at the wet blood staining his lips and chin. He spat some excess onto the floor.
"Checking up on you, brother." Taehying grinned lopsidedly, dark hair flopping in his eyes. His arms folded across his chest and all Yoongi could think about was wiping the smug smile off of his face. No doubt the younger demon was loving the fact that Yoongi had been exiled.
"No need, brother." He sneered, mocking the supposedly friendly term.
"Are you sure? How's that human of yours?" Taehyung's head cocked to one side. "Dead yet?"
"If she was, you would have gotten word already." His eyes narrowed. "What do you really want Taehyung?"
"Maybe I've got a message. Or maybe.... I just wanna mess with you." He laughed.
Yoongi rolled his eyes and made to push past him but not without giving him such a rough shoulder barge that Taehyung stumbled. "Fuck off." He muttered as he walked away.
"You're in trouble, Yoongi!" Taehyung called after him. Yoongi stopped dead in his tracks.
"What the fuck does that mean?" He hissed over his shoulder only partially looking at the other man. His fists balled at his sides.
"You think I can't smell that human stench on you? You've been a naughty boy Min Yoongi."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He lied. Did he really smell like humans? Perhaps it had been the months he's spent on Earth, but the way Taehyung was speaking sounded like insinuated something else.
"Intercourse," Taehyung snickered, putting on a posh voice. "Is not allowed with humans. You know that."
Yoongi was well aware of that. However given his banishment he didn't think the rules of the underworld were applicable to him anymore. How can you be punished for breaking the rules of a world you were no longer part of?
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You're supposed to protect that human." Taehyung began. "It's dangerous for you to be in a relationship with her. You don't know what will happen."
"I'm not in a relationship with her."
"Whatever it is you're doing with her is not right. You're not supposed to be so involved." He stressed. "You fed off her."
"What? How - "
"I can sense it, you're not you. The smell, your eyes, everything. I'm telling you this is dangerous. Stop it and do what you're supposed to be doing."
"Or what?" Yoongi huffed with a mocking laugh. "I'll get exiled, again?"
"I don't know...but I do know, this is going to end badly, brother."
Yoongi stalked off without another word, cursing Taehyung under his breath for the rest of the afternoon.
***
When you returned from work you’d expected Yoongi to be there, but to your slight disappointment he was not. He wasn't your pet, it would be beyond absurd to expect him to hang around for you, no matter how bizarre the nature of your relationship was. This was the first time you'd been apart since everything happened. It's entirely possible the last few days could have been some insane dream.
You considered yourself practical, logical and realistic. Yet everything Yoongi had told you, shown you had you completely doubting your entire belief system. Magic wasn't real - yet you'd seen it (or what you considered it to be). Demons weren't real - yet, again, you'd witnessed it with your own eyes.
The majority of your day you had been unable to focus properly, head spinning with all these revelations. Your work had definitely suffered as a result, thankfully the man you were an assistant to was far too busy to notice anything. You'd have to get a grip soon before did.
You went about your usual post work routine, making dinner, talking to friends and unwinding with some Netflix. The later it got into the evening you quickly realised Yoongi probably wasn't going to be making an appearance. Recalling how he mentioned being away from you caused him pain you hoped he was alright.
Unless he'd somehow found a cure, maybe. Then he didn't need to come back. The thought shouldn't make you feel as empty as it did. Even though he repeatedly referred to himself as the bad guy, he felt like some guardian angel to you and you were thankful for that.
The best you could do for now was to distract yourself and hope he'd show up soon.
*** Several days later you screamed out loud when you'd entered your bedroom to find Yoongi there, sitting on your bed, arms behind his head as he sat against the headboard. There'd been no word, no appearance, nothing, from him at all. Total radio silence.
You were used to these sporadic meetings but it still was jarring. "You scared me!" You exclaimed. Much to your chagrin he just laughed.
"I enjoy the element of surprise." He said with a grin. You remained in the doorway with a frown. "Miss me?"
"No." It was only a half truth. What you felt was a mixture of curiosity and a need to feel wanted again.
"Are you sure about that?" He cocked a brow at you with a smirk. "You forget how in tune I am with your feelings now."
You groaned internally. In all honesty that fact had slipped your mind in the absence of his company. You pondered if that meant that you could never lie about your feelings to him again. The thought made you vulnerable. "Is it...bad? Like the last time you were here?"
"Yes." He answered bluntly. "It doesn't hurt as much when I'm away from you though."
"Oh. Good." You're not exactly sure how to respond to that. All of this was new to you.
"I missed you." He says as he shifted to sit at the edge of the bed, eyes on you the entire time.
"That's a lie."
"Well, kind of." He said slyly. "It's the spell. It keeps bringing me back here."
"Maybe you should have stayed away." You shot with a glare. Being reminded that he's literally forced to be around you when you actually enjoy it of your own free will bites a little.
"I didn't want to."
"But you just said - "
"Come here." It's not a question but a command. You found yourself padding over to him, feeling like a scolded child. He pulls you between his legs, arms securing you in place on your waist. His hands push your shirt up where his lips trail over your stomach. "Want you." He mumbled. You tried your best not to react.
You're reminded with how strong he is when he literally picked you up and placed you on your back against the mattress. Yoongi kneeled over you and attempted to remove your shirt completely but you didn't comply. "Don't fight me." He cooed, squeezing your sides. "I can feel you want it too."
"You don't want to be here."
"Y/N, if I didn't want to be here I wouldn't." He kissed you as his hands traced your body. "It would be hard, but I could really stay away. If I wanted to."
The shirt came off along with his own and you were slightly annoyed at yourself for giving in so easily. "You fucked me and then disappeared Yoongi, it doesn't work like that." You managed to get out as you tried not to get too lost in the sensation of his body on yours.
"There's a lot you don't understand." He murmured, sliding your skirt off. "I had a warning. I stayed away to see if it made a difference. It didn't."
You had no idea what the hell that meant but it was quickly forgotten when your panties came off. It was ridiculous how pliant you were for him. You restraint had lasted all of a few minutes.
"I've never done this before," He chuckled as his face settled between your legs. "I've always wanted to. My kind just...don't."
"What are you - ohhh." He cut you off when his mouth connected to your center. You almost wanted to laugh at the fact that he was an absolute beginner. It seemed such a stark contrast to his snarky, cocky personality how could it not be laughable?
Except the more his wet tongue moved between your lower lips the more pleasurable it felt. You weren't sure if you'd actually be able to cum from it but god, did it feel nice. "It's really useful being able to feel what feels good to you." He flashed you a wicked look as he paused momentarily. "Good?"
"Good." You breathed.
He continued, learning as he went. It only got better the longer he licked and sucked and before long your back was arched, a hand tangled in his hair. He grunted when you tugged a little too hard. "Use your fingers Yoongi, please." You whined.
Moments later two fingers pushed their way into your entrance and you let out a loud. He lifted his head up to watch your reaction as he went. "Tastes fucking great." He said, a tongue swiping out to lick his bottom lip. "I don't know what I like more, this or your blood."
You had no time to give him a response, a breathy gasp fell from you when his lips touched you again. You were wrong before, you were going to cum from this. Yoongi's tongue flicked faster in sync with his fingers and you came hard, unable to even voice it to him. When he pulled away, he was grinning smugly, proud.
It was the first time since you began fucking that he'd actually done something that was solely unselfish, for your pleasure only. Maybe it marked a shift in your dynamic, you didn't know. Whatever it was - you liked it.
*** You fucked until you were sore, letting him feed off of you as much as he wanted as he came inside you. It all became a blur at some point. When you finally couldn't take anymore, he backed away easily, a blooddrunk smile playing on his lips.
"Are you staying or leaving?" You asked, as you laid next to him in your bed, both of you twisted in the now ruined sheets. "I'm not going to beg you this time."
"I'm too fucked to do anything right now. I'm staying. Whether you want it or not." He rolled on his side so you were facing. "I'm sorry you're sore."
"It's worth it." You gave him a half smile. "Can I ask you something?"
Yoongi's eyes were already lidded with sleep, blinking slower and slower. Maybe in this relaxed stated he'd be a little more honest with you. "Ok." He mumbled.
"Why me?"
His eyes blinked open. "Why you what?"
"Why were you assigned, or punished - whatever - to me?" You said quickly. "I'm literally nobody. How could any one of your...people, care about me?"
Yoongi let out a long breath. A hand reached for your waist underneath the sheets and tugged you closer. Your legs were touching. "I don't know. That's the truth. All i was told is that you were important for our future."
"What?" You almost laughed, the idea sounded so absurd. "Me? What do I do? Fly in like superman and save you all?"
"Maybe." He smirked. "Really, I don't know. I wondered myself, too. I was really surprised when I saw you."
"Could be my magic blood." You joked. This time there was no humour on his face.
"It might be. So you better be careful, I know what you're like."
"I'm always careful." Yoongi gave you a pointed look, remembering the time you deliberately put yourself in danger. "Okay, I'm mostly careful."
"Sure." He rolled his eyes.
"You never told me what you did to end up here." You felt brave after the first question and dared to risk another.
"All you need to know is I'm a fucking saint compared to how I was back home." He yawned.
Something touched you about the way he referred to whatever kind of underworld he was from as 'home'. Not once did it ever occur to you that that's how he would view it. To you it seemed so far fetched it couldn't possibly exist. To Yoongi it was home. A home he wasn't ever allowed to return to.
"Why?"
"I don't know what you're asking, human." He was falling asleep again.
"Why were you so bad? You seem pretty good to me." You whispered. His breathing got heavier and heavier as you waited for an answer. Before you knew it, Yoongi was fast asleep.
***
Unlike his surprise visit from Taehyung, Yoongi had some warning about Seokjin's arrival. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and a chill ran down his spine. His eyes shot open. Every sense was on high alert. You were fast asleep and he did his best to get away without waking you. He wanted Seokjin nowhere near you.
Yoongi ended up scrambling down the fire escape after hastily throwing on some clothes. However he never made it far. Seokjin appeared in the parking lot as if from thin air. "Get back here." He called lowly. Yoongi knew better than to disobey. He froze.
"What now?" Yoongi grumbled, meeting the older man's eyes.
"You didn't fucking listen to Taehyung!" Seokjin bellowed, voice like thunder. "Now I've been sent here to make sure you hear the message loud and clear."
"And what message is that?" He quipped before he could stop himself. It only served to enrage Seokjin more.
"Keep your dick and mouth off that human. Don't go anywhere near her. You don't have to watch her anymore. You're relieved of your duties."
Yoongi could only stand there dumbfounded and watch as Seokjin waved a hand, the tattooed spells that bound him to you slowly disappeared as if they never existed in the first place. He was beyond confused. "Am I coming back?"
Seokjin let out a mocking laugh. "You were exiled brother. That means forever."
"Why doesn't she need protected anymore?"
"You don't need to know. You've been ordered." Seokjin backhanded Yoongi so hard across the face that he fell down from the force. "Do as you're told."
masterlist
#bts fanfic#bts fanfction#bts angst#bts smut#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#yoongi fanfiction
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January 14, 2021: GoldenEye (Epilogue)
WhoooooooooooooOK. Look, I’m gonna get through this, but I’m gonna have to go in a different order. I’m going from highest score to lowest, because that’s how I’m gonna be able to get through this. And for the record, I’ll be doing some...ranting...at certain points. This is gonna be interesting. Why? Well, let’s start with this little tidbit.
79%. Not my score. That’s the Rotten Tomatoes score for this movie. The average rating on RT is 7.1/10. My score...my score will not be that high. Maybe not terribly low, but...it ain’t gonna be that high. ‘Cause I got some problems. OH BOY...do I got some problems. And this might even be controversial for some, but if you like this movie, I’m so happy for you.
I...I was not that lucky.
Review
Direction and Action
To Martin Campbell: great job. I actually mean this sincerely, great job with the direction of this movie, as well as the cinematography. Good job from you too, Phil Méheux. Some of the shots and framing of this movie are great, and credit absolutely deserves to be given for that. And the action! Look, as stupid as some of the framing is for it (we’ll get there, dear GOD, we’ll get there), the action is all dynamite. From the jump into the dam at the beginning, to the VERY impressively brutal fight scene between Alec and James at the end. Absolutely impressive, and gets a 9/10 from me. Yeah, really. No complaints here.
Wow, a 9? That’s a big deal! I thought you said you hated this movie.
I don’t hate everything in this movie. But some things...some things...we’ll get there.
Cast and Acting
I can’t believe I’m saying this, considering my opinions on a lot of the movie...but Brosnan is a pretty great Bond. I hate the lines he’s forced to deliver, I hate the relationships and lack of emotion in his dialogue (WE WILL GET THERE), but I don’t actually blame Brosnan for that. He does a great job with what he’s given. And that basically goes for everybody else...almost. Famke Janssen. Xenia...she, uh...HOLY SHIT DUDE. She fuckin’ GOES for it. She’s the craziest Bond...Girl...wait. No, wait, she isn’t the Bond Girl. SHE’S THE HENCHMAN. Shit. OK, I’m on board with Xenia and Famke Janssen’s portrayal. Over the top, sure, but I can deal with that. Sean Bean does great, no surprise there, and I even like Izabella Scorupco as Natalya. Alan Cumming...Boris....yeah, no, no pass for Boris, he’s obnoxious as hell. I know you’re a great actor, Alan Cumming. So why in the hell do I NEVER SEE YOU IN ANYTHING GOOD??? Except X2, you rocked as Nightcrawler. And y’know what, Judi Dench’s one scene as M was FANTASTIC. Seriously, more of THAT, please! So, yeah, when I really think about it, high marks here, too. 8/10!
And an 8! For somebody who liked Connery, I’m surprised that Brosnan was OK for you. And yet, you said you didn’t like this movie? Why?
Just keep reading. It’ll aaaaaaaaaaallllllll make sense soon.
Production Design
Not much to say here, except...yeah, it looks great! From Arecibo Observatory to the streets of St. Petersburg, it all looks great. Iconic sets, like that Soviet statuary. Costumes, ESPECIALLY Xenia’s, were also pretty good, although not particularly iconic. Definitely no real problems here. Good job, Peter Lamont! 8/10 for you and your cohorts.
These are pretty high grades, 365.
I know. I am aware. We are not done.
Music and Editing
Before I talk about Tina Turner’s song, I have one thing to say...the triangle guy in the orchestra was having a FIELD DAY. My girlfriend and I watched this together, and she noticed it first. Now I can’t unhear it. Everybody wants to be heard...even the triangle guy. Listen to the theme from the tank sequence, you won’t be able to unhear the triangle guy going CRAZY back there.
OK, the opening sequence might’ve been crazy compared to others, but the song was...pretty good. Absolutely not my favorite Bond song (GOOOOOOOOOLD-FINGAAAAAAH-WHAP-WHAAAAAAAP-WAAAAAAAAAAH), but still good. And the rest of the music for the movie is good...but I won’t be buying the soundtrack, sorry to say. Still, Éric Serra did a good job, I mean that. With all that said, 8/10.
Gee, 365, you sure you don’t like this movieGIVE IT A GODDAMNSECONDOK???
Plot and Writing
...Hey, uh...you OK? Looks like your eyes have gone blank there, 365. You all ri-wait...wait, what are you doing with your thighs? No! NOOOOOOOOO-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHATETHEWRITINGANDPLOTINTHISGODDAMNMOVIE
OK, take a breathtakeabreathtakeabreathtakeaBREATH. The plot and writing of this goddamn movie cripples EVERYTHING ELSE IT HAD GOING FOR IT for me. And for the duration of the film, I’ve been trying to figure it out. What was it? I’m gonna have to break it into pieces here.
Plot first. At the end of the day, the plot isn’t actually bad in and of itself. However...it is the most UNORIGINAL, HACKNEYED, SPY MOVIE, JAMES BOND CLAPTRAP THAT I HAVE EVER SEEN. The entire film just feels scripted, and not in a good way. And I know that, logically, some things are going to stay the same. He’s gonna get the girl, there’s going to be a dastardly villain, there’ll be gadgets, Bond’ll be cool, and there’s the music. Let’s take the music out of it, obviously, and look at the other core elements of a Bond film, shall we?
The Girl: I might’ve liked Natalya, but the characters had NO chemistry. Can’t say that about Brosnan and Izabella, they did fine with what they were given. But the characters weren’t given a single satisfying reason to get together. They needed to either meet earlier, or you needed to give her something in her character to get her to convincingly fall for Natalya. The work needs to be done with her. Because, let’s face it: James Bond is a man-whore. It’s literally a part of his character definition. He doesn’t need an excuse to fall for her, she needs an excuse to fall for him. And we never get a convincing reason for their relationship. Ever.
The Villain: Gaaaaaaah, Alec! Alec was actually an interesting character! His motivations actually did make sense, and play on a VERY tough event in the history of the UK. While it certainly doesn’t justify his actions, it definitely makes him more three-dimensional. Which is why it’s a shame that the film works so hard to flatten him out. They turn him from an intriguing individual, to someone whose ultimate goal is to steal ALL OF THE MONEY IN LONDON!!! MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!! This guy is a Baron Zemo, a THANOS. Doing terrible things for understandable reasons. Should’ve leaned into that more, instead of just turning him into Evil James Bond. One of the biggest failures of this movie, seriously.
Gadgets: WHAT GODDAMN GADGETS??? The acetylene torch at the dam? Barely a gadget, and you know it. The car? NOPE! Agent Wade takes it away! Here’s an ideaUSE THE CAR IN ST. PETERSBURG. Instead of TEARING UP DOWNTOWN ST. PETERSBURG. Real subtle, Bond, real great work AS A SPY, YOU FUCKLEHEAD!!! What about the pen? Oh, the one he uses by ACCIDENT? Yeah, not counting that either. The belt? Nope, not even touched. And lastly, I cannot stress this enough, WHY WOULD YOU TEASE ME WITH THE GODDAMN CAR MISSILES, AND DO NOTHING WITH THEM??? Yeah. Still not over the car thing, I mean that. Enraged. So enraged.
James Bond: Pierce...you did a good job. You did a great job, even. It’s not you. It’s the writing. See, Bond lines used to be cool. But then, Schwarzenegger happened. And Stallone happened. And literally the entirety of the 1980s and early ‘90s happened. And all during that, Bond was still around, and still pumping out movies. All of Connery’s wit and cunning got Flanderized into almost a parody of the original character. And Brosnan...Brosnan does his damndest with those puns. Those awful...AWFUL...puns. If they were here and there, sure, I could’ve taken it. But at times, it felt like EVERY OTHER LINE!!! At a certain point, the film felt less like a Bond film, and more like a parody of a Bond film. EXCEPT, that unlike Austin Powers, IT. WASN’T. FUCKING. FUNNY. But you may have noticed something...that has nothing with the plot. That’s all writing. OK, let’s get into it.
The writers need help; they were clearly locked in a room for too long until they came up with “good puns.” It didn’t work. And the problem stretches far outside of the puns. Lemme give you an example, yeah? At one point, Valentin asks if Bond has “joined the 21st century,” then notes that M is now a woman. That comment makes no sense in two ways. One, that phrase is meant to state that an individual is somehow dated, out of touch with the present, stuck in the past. Yet, working for a woman is most certainly a more modern trait, so that makes no sense. And secondly, THIS IS 1995, IN THE 20TH CENTURY. And that’s a relatively minor nitpick, at the tip of the iceberg of this film. There are plot holes, missed opportunities...long story short (too late), the writing is TERRIBLE. It’s goddamn awful. It’s so awful...that I’m going for 1/10. Yeah. This movie PISSED ME OFF.
There. You get it now? Most of the elements of the movie were fine, but the writing TORE it for me. Which leaves us with…
A 68%.
*wakes up* W---WHAT? You tried to Xenia me, and you still gave it a 70%? What about the whole “My score will not be that high” thing? HUH?
I mean...it wasn’t. The average rating on Rotten Tomatoes was a 71%. Mine’s a 68%.
Because here’s the thing: it’s honestly not a bad movie. It just infuriates me for one reason. By all other metrics, this movie’s totally fine. It’s just the unoriginal plot and cringeworthy writing that tears it down a peg. Just imagine if the writing was good. This movie would be considered one of the best action movies, instead of just once of the best James Bond movies. And even then, if you ranked these movies by Tomatometer, GoldenEye’s only #9. That’s beneath Lazenby, a Moore, two Craigs, and the first four Sean Connerys. In other words, it’s the worst Bond movie I’ve ever seen...and I’ve only seen the first four Connery movies. So, really, this rating makes sense when you think about it.
There it is: a good action film with shitty writing. That’s GoldenEye. And PLEASE disagree with me, I’m one of the outliers with this movie. It is a beloved classic for many, and I respect that. But for me...it’s a 68%. Just my opinion.
But this isn’t fair. I want me a good Bond movie, or at least one that I like. Already seen Goldfinger, so...let’s go for the Bond after Brosnan, shall we?
January 15, 2021: Casino Royale (2005)
#James Bond#GoldenEYe#007#Pierce Brosnan#Martin Campbell#Sean Bean#Alec Trevelyan#Famke Janssen#Xenia Onatopp#Izabella Scorupco#Judi Dench#Alan Cumming#action movie#spy movie#365 movie challenge#365 movies 365 days#365 Days 365 Movies#365 movies a year#movie challenge#a movie a day#bbelcher#action january
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2Ha (up to 120)
Or, Hamliet’s review of the most blatantly ‘problematic’ novel she’s ever read, which has beautiful writing and themes, and an intriguing plot that she apparently wrote a Jin Guangyao AU of without realizing it last year. Whoops.
This is my fifth Chinese web novel, btw, after reading MXTX’s three novels (all of which I think are thematically rich and top-quality writing and character development-wise) and Female General and Eldest Princess (which has great main characters but shoddy writing). To a degree a lot of this might be due to the translation, but 2Ha is absolutely beautifully written in its dialogue, metaphors, and descriptions.
The story revolves around the redemption of an evil emperor--Mo Ran--who commits suicide in the very first chapter, only to wake up as his fifteen year old self with a chance to redo everything... but he actually doesn’t (at first) have all that many regrets or think he needs redemption, so there’s that. Thematically, it seems to mostly be coherent so far, but it’s hard to say with only 120/300 chapters read, and I’ll discuss the ‘mostly’ below.
The main character, Mo Ran, is basically what would happen if you combined Xue Yang with Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian in a blender, but then strained out the decency Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian in particular clung to. If Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian are, archtypally, akin to the Kylo Ren/Loki archetype, then Mo Ran is Darth Vader or Thanos.
What I appreciate about this is that the novel doesn’t make Mo Ran sympathetic because it doesn’t have to: we empathize with him because he is framed honestly. There is not an attempt to manipulate sympathy, but there is an honest portrayal of complexity without whitewashing, and that is a wise choice on behalf of the author. He’s a straight up bad dude who sucks rather than a sympathetic person who clearly wants to be good but through a combination of circumstances and personal terrible choices, is not. Or so it appears at first until Mo Ran eventually realizes/remembers that he did want to be good after all, once... and it’s directly stated as much. Yet those desires have been beaten out of him, and often he’s the one who did the beating on his own soul.
Basically, the novel seems to be asking whether it is possible for even someone that cruel, that evil, to be redeemed. And the answer thus far (up till 120) seems to be that yes, he can be, but in a complex sense.
Of course, there are all manner of... elements that make it a novel I absolutely encourage caution towards before engaging. The translators are great with warnings, and I had to skim some parts. There is violence, but to be honest it’s less violent than TGCF, as someone said to me before I read and which, thus far, is a sentiment I’d agree with. My main issues is its portrayal of sexual assault, which I honestly think it’s unnecessarily graphic and eroticized at parts. That said, the story does frame it fairly responsibly (as something reprehensible, but the eroticization of some brief flashbacks contradicts this and so undermines the overall framing). Rather like Scum Villain, it also seems to be aware of the unhealthy dynamics in the ship (particularly the initial age gap) and so layers it with contradictions (he’s actually lived to 32, so he isn’t fifteen; Chu Wanning is then de-aged too, nothing happens until they’re older anyways). The layering works in multiple ways, because the novel seems to, at its core, be about exploring the very limits of love, redemption, etc., in each and every crevice of possibility.
On a personal level, the chapter where Mo Ran is awaiting judgement to get into hell and the memories of all the people he has tortured and killed start calling out his sins, and then we flashback to Chu Wanning asking Mo Ran not to forgive him, not to forgive others, but simply to forgive himself after Chu Wanning subjected himself to Mo Ran’s worst impulses, and it’s this memory, this phrase, that stops the sentence before its even written, that quiets those voices... I found it deeply meaningful, and that was perhaps my favorite chapter. It encourages empathy and enduring suffering with each other, suggesting that an honest understanding and love saves us. There’s a theological aspect to it that resonated with me as well (and, as a side note, I’m curious to read the entire thing before charting it out, but there seems to be a very clear alchemical influence as well).
However, I earlier mentioned the slight eroticization that seems to make murky the overall framing. There’s also one recent plot twist that seemed to damage the themes. I really, really didn't like how Rong Jiu's story ended even if it's ambiguous. It essentially is, as the author even directly said in her author's notes, just that Rong Jiu wasn't lucky enough to find someone who wouldn't give up on him. After Rong Jiu spent so much time pointing out the disparities in fairness to Mo Ran (why do you get a second chance while I don’t?), to have his story presumably end with "f*ck you got mine" really does not work. At least in MDZS, while Jin Guangyao isn't saved and Wei Wuxian is, Wei Wuxian empathizes and points out that it's because of a rotten society in the end, rather than just "sucks to be you." I really hope this ends up being wrong and she didn't actually continue to leave his fate up in the air as she stated she planned to do in the author's note, because if she did, that's depressingly contradictory to the story’s themes. It’s one thing if Mo Ran will later go back and save Rong Jiu, which is where I hope it’s going; it’s entirely different if this really is the ending for him, and would keep the novel from thematically approaching MXTX’s level.
So yeah. I am eager to see where the novel goes, although the translations are on hiatus (hats off to the translators for their beautiful work!) and I’m wavering on how desperate I am as to whether to try the MTA translations or not...
A theory that very well may be wrong: I suspect the mysterious black-veiled water user is actually Shi Mei, mostly because Shi Mei is likable yet missing serious flaws, unlike every other major character, which makes me suspicious. He also had that very weird line during the Lake Arc when Mo Ran was captured, and water is associated with healing, which Shi Mei is also associated with. Oh, and Water Mystery seems very interested in Mo Ran loving Shi Mei and protecting his life. So if he isn’t Shi Mei, he’s someone connected to him.
For now? 8/10, but with serious warnings for those who might seek to read it.
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The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty: RWBY Vol 6 Ep 8
I WAS RIGHT ABOUT BEING WORRIED. PLZ KELIN BE SAFE.
Overall rating: 5/10
Spoilers Ahead
The Good
One thing that the CRWBY had gotten right since day 1 was the family dynamics and the depiction of abuse in the Schnee household. I don’t say this lightly: I personally know what is to grow up in an abusive household. When I heard Weiss be so hard on herself in Forever Fall during those first episodes, I knew she likely had an abusive parent.
When analyzing a show, especially when one touches on very delicate subjects, it’s a huge sign of disrespect not to dive into them and extract everything you can from the themes. In this case, it gets personal.
Tumblr is an odd place: a site where anonymity and honesty blend together in an odd way. For years, I used this username as a way to put myself out there without endangering myself, but as I grew up and started using the internet to find a job, it was hard to separate this personal little hole I dug for myself and the projects I had in mind for the future. Today, I make choice while doing this review, and that choice is sharing with you part of my childhood, and the reason behind it is to state my bias: I don’t feel empathy for Willow, even before she was introduced I felt she was the worse mother in team RWBY. That, in the short future might change, but here are the reasons why:
Jacques Schnee is an awful person. He’s a terrible businessman, an abusive husband, and an abusive father. He left a mark on all of his family members: his wife turned to drinking, his oldest daughter joined the military to escape him and put herself in harm’s way to protect her younger sister, her second daughter hated herself and didn’t trust anyone around her, and his son mirrored his behavior to protect himself.
However, an abusive household can have more relationships than just “an abuser and his victims”, it can also be “an abuser, an enabler, and their victims”. I don’t mean to say the enabler is not a victim themselves, but their secondary role has an important impact in the life of children.
So here’s my truth: my mother is abusive and my father is an enabler. I don’t know how it happened, but my mother’s violent and hurtful behavior was first downplayed by my father, then it was dismissed, and, in odd times, it was mirrored. A while ago, Lindsay Ellis made a video about Guardians of the Galaxy 2. There’s one quote that always resonated with me:
“The dynamic between Gamora and Nebula might read as familiar for people who grew up in households with abusive or addicted parents, and that is the displacement of anger from the abuser (...) to an older sibling or parent that failed to stop the abuser or the addict. (...) It can be even harder for people to forgive a sibling or a parent who failed to stop abuse than it is to forgive the abuser.” - Lindsay Ellis on Gamora and Nebula’s relationship.
That being said, I don’t, in any way shape or form, believe that Willow is worse than Jacques. However, before you’re quick to defend her or “protect her” remember that she allowed her husband to harm their children as much as he could. At no point did she ever stand up, or seek help; maybe it was because of shame or the need to uphold an image to the outside viewer, but the truth remains: she failed her children.
I’m not saying that Willow was in an easy position, due to her dependency on alcohol and her lack of confidence in herself, we all know that she’s a victim herself, but that will never excuse her behavior in my eyes. When my grandfather became dangerous to my mother and aunt, my grandma packed everything and disappeared with her daughters despite her fear. She made a very risky choice: to move to another province with no job offer and without knowing anyone, but she kept herself and her daughters safe.
My father never put a stop to my mother, and if he ever did, he never was there to make my brother and I feel better or to tell us that we weren’t at fault. I never knew my household was toxic until I started spending more time at my friends’ house (something that my mom wasn't a fan of). It was then that I realized my friends were not scared of their mother’s “wrath” as I was with mine. It was after years of learning this that I realized the reason why I suffer from an anxiety disorder and had suffered from several panic attacks.
Now, I want to draw your attention to a very important scene of this episode, the most important for me: Winter breaks and shouts at her father when under pressure. We’ve never seen her like this. Even her petty quarrel with Qrow didn’t have the same weight to it, and I can tell you why because I’ve lived through it myself:
When you can recognize your abuser’s tactics, and see how they try to gaslight/hurt you or the people you care about after being outside of that toxic environment, you go back to the child you were when you had to live through that. It was like time had never passed. You may get scared or, like me and Winter, you explode.
Winter might have found a surrogate father and a plan outside the Schnee name, but in reality, she’s still at Jacques mercy, more so than Weiss, like I said before. Though it feels great to be right, I cannot describe how miserable seeing the Schnees makes me.
With that finished, I want to move on to what Willow said to Weiss about her and Whitley:
She’s able to recognize that’s better for her children not to be at home, but just like time and time again, she’s an observer, not an active player. She likely saw Weiss leave with the help of Klein, but at no point in time was there for her daughter. So, thanks Willow, for nothing.
Willow is right about Whitley, however it is infuriating that she’s putting his life on his sisters’ shoulders. “You left him here with us.” For fUCKS SAKE. I am doing my best not to go on a rant here, but this whole phrase truly angers me. WHITLEY IS NOT WINTER OR WEISS RESPONSIBILITY, IT NEVER WAS.
I always tried to shield my siblings from my parents’ wrath, but this is not a responsibility you should put in a child. I don’t fucking care if Winter and Weiss are adults, they are victims dealing with their trauma, and though we are all sure Weiss is going to help her brother, that’s not her job. It shouldn’t be her fucking job.
For me, if there was any way for Willow to be somewhat “redeemed” in my eyes, it would be by protecting at least 1 of her fucking children. Say what you want about Raven, she’s an asshole, a manipulator, and a coward, but at least she was there to protect Yang when Neo was about to murder her.
Also, Imma add this here: A kind anon informed me that the vodka that Willow drinks is labeled “Six Swans”, which is a fairy tale written by the Grimm brothers in which a Princess (later Queen) works in silence for years to set her family free from a curse.
If that’s true, then Willow’s cameras will bring Jacques down for treason and the Schnees will be free of him.
So, after all of that, I’m fucking delighted that Winter spoke out during the meeting. People pointed out that Robyn was happy at that, which means that she likely now knows that Ironwood doesn’t trust Jacques, and she will trust on the bees word more than she did last episode.
Don’t think I miss the flirting between Qrow and Clover. It’s so good to see Qrow opening up and refusing alcohol.
The Bad
Fancy dinner everyone! Except no one in the gang is dressed for the occasion. It makes sense for Ironwood, Winter, and Clover to go in uniform, but the kids have no freaking excuse. Everyone was wearing dresses/suits, except for them. Was it too expensive to suit the gang up, CRWBY?
I don’t like the exaggerated movements of the whole JN_R operation. They could’ve gone the classy spy way, but I guess we need cheap laughs.
Unfortunately, after having a steady episode duration, the writers pull a move from their old books and cut a possible whole episode/special into two for cheap cliff hangers. There’s no reason this episode had to be only 15 minutes and end in the middle of the dinner party. It’s just stupid. This episode only has buildup, no middle, and no end.
I’ve taken a lot of points off this episode because of that cheap trick, I can’t believe they went back to it after doing so well previously.
The Dirty
A long as table and barely anyone there, the fuck???!!!!!!
Also where the fuck is KLEIN IF HE’S NOT SAFE I FUCKING QUIT.
--
Overall rating: 5/10
AN: We don’t talk about the Schnees.
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Sola Gratia (9/?)
Masterlist
Rating / Warnings : General audiences, no particular warnings.
Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.
Part 9/? (2000 words)
Author’s notes : I’m trying to get the chapters a more consistent length, I think 2000-2500 is good ! Means I’ll be able to work more consistently, but please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think about it ! Also, sorry for all the build-up, but a girl’s gotta set the decor a bit !
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During the following weeks, the presence of the Count became almost familiar. Every day, he waited for me with a different kind of pastry. I tried to protest at first, but quickly had to make my peace with it. At some point, seeing me wince at my terrible coffee, he forbade me to drink it anymore, and added that to my daily breakfast. I asked him exactly once why he insisted on feeding me, to which he replied that he liked my blood healthy, with a toothy grin. I hit him over the arm, he laughed. Other than that, he was careful not to step over my boundaries, and seemed to find the way to only be there at the appropriate time.
That was not the case for Leah, however, who was delighted to see Vlad was going to be a recurring presence in our lives. The two of them got along far better than I would have wanted. Vlad especially enjoyed playing along with her when she started asking probing questions about the both of us, although I had to admit he was an expert at deviating any question that could have revealed his true nature.
It took me some time to fully realize how much he had actually seen, and lived. He died around the 1470s, which meant he had all the time in the world to see the Sistine Chapel being painted, the construction of the Eiffel Tower, or the damn french Revolution. He could have just been a very polyvalent historian, which is what I told Leah. She interpreted that as a challenge, considering he and I were, as she put it, “introverted nerds who need to see the light of the sun once in a goddamn while”. She started dragging us along in random activities. There was a pottery class, to which I was barely able to make the Leaning Flower Pot Of Pisa, while she somehow made an incredible owl sculpture, and Vlad had made a delicate greek-inspired vase. Seeing him, sleeves rolled up over his elbows, hair tied up in a ponytail, his long fingers working in precise, expert gestures, probably had noting to do with my absolute failure to make anything correct. I decided then that manual activities were a no-go for me in the car ride, where I sulked on the backseat, while Leah and Vlad were still crying-laughing about my sorry excuse for a pot.
After the rousing success of that experience, she wasn't about to stop. We did a haunted castle themed escape game, which Vlad curiously sucked at. That would explain some stuff. Leah then found out that a Renaissance faire was taking place in a small town, about an hour or two outside the city, and decided we definitely had to go. I tried to pretend I had too much work and wouldn't be able to make it, but Vlad and her insisting, I caved, and marked down my calendar with the red pen of defeat.
Being stuck in period costumes with the both of them wasn't the only reason I tried protesting. Laurent really did throw a ton of work on my shoulders, and that wasn't considering the whole Stephan Helder situation. The kid was highly motivated, sure, but he started making me feel uneasy, for some reason. After all my classes, he came to chat, and always found a way to ask questions about Vlad. Strangely phrased questions, or about how he couldn't find publications under his name. Legitimate questions, to be fair, but his insistence was bugging me.
“I'm telling you, that is weird. Those are weird questions”, I told Vlad, sitting on my windowsill. He didn't react. “I am serious, what if he knew ?”
“How would he know ?”, he sighed. “Why would he even want to know ?”
“Well, that's a fair question. Which needs an answer, don't you think ?”
He tilted his head, softly smiling. “I think you are being a bit paranoid.”
“I spend most of my free time hanging out with an immortal murder-machine, I think I deserve the right to be a bit paranoid”, I snapped.
“Fair enough”, he laughed.
Being immortal had to have dulled his sense of danger. Although, I could see how a skinny 20-year-old medieval history student wouldn't spontaneously raise red flags.
“By the way, I am going back to Romania”, he told me.
I felt a small pinch to my heart. “Oh.”
“Only for a few days”, he completed with a smirk. “I have to pick up some things, and oversee the moving company. I do not trust them with half my things.”
I furrowed my brow. “Moving company ?”
“Oh, did I not mention it ?”, he innocently replied. “Before I even arrived, I bought a little something a little ways outside the city. The renovations are done, and you of all people understand I cannot live there without a decent library.”
I took a second to process it. He had a smug look, obviously enjoying my confusion. I had to say I didn't even think about where he spent his nights. I figured he either turned into a bat and hanged somewhere upside down, or simply didn't sleep. Did he even need to rest ? Gods, so many questions I didn't even think to ask. Every day, I felt like I discovered a puddle, only to realize it was part of a lake.
“When I come back, would you come visit ?”, he asked, sounding a bit hesitant.
“Sure. I mean, as long as I don't have to wear heels if you decide to go feral on me.”
He took a dead-serious expression. “I promise you, Eris Cetero, that as long as you live, I will never, ever, make you wear heels again.”
I threw my head back with a groan of agony. Was it so bad that this kind of humor was actually funny to me now ? Was having a six century old bloodthirsty creature imply he might try to murder me again really that hilarious ? Apparently so, as I was unable to contain a giggle. Maybe it was because the look he had was all but threatening. Maybe because every time I was near him, even with all that happened, I felt... Safe. For a few weeks, I had been able to decide staying over at the University library until ungodly hours. I didn't have to thing about what time I had to leave at before it became too risky for a woman with very limited knowledge of martial arts, alone.
I mean, he was arguably more dangerous than any encounter I might have had, but still... I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Then again, he had plenty of occasions to lose it. Last week, for instance, I had no idea what to expect when I left my apartment, dosed with painkillers, as Mother Nature, that ruthless bitch, decided to drop by for her monthly visit. He was simply waiting for me at the usual spot, looking a bit off, but holding a large box of chocolates along with my breakfast. He made himself scarce for the following three days, but I could tell he tried to act natural.
“I should let you get some rest”, Vlad told me, dragging me out of my thoughts.
I nodded, slowly. “When are you leaving ?”
“Some time tomorrow. I will still pick you up, if that is what worries you.”
He smiled, teasing. “Yeah, that's... That's it. I'd miss my personal chauffeur.” I looked away a second. “Now, get off my window, I need to sleep.”
“Of course, my Lady”, he replied, and backed away with an overly low bow. “I bid you good night.”
Once again, with a fluttering sound, the usual bat replaced the tall man. I called out to him, offering my hand as a perch. The tiny black creature gripped a finger. I would have expected a Vampire Bat, to be fair, and almost laughed when I realized it was a common little brown bat, only changing in the darker color.
“Well, don't you look adorable”, I told him.
I could take a more frightening appearance, if you want me to.
“Telepathy, huh ? That's new”, I commented. Nothing surprised me that much anymore, to be honest.
I try not to pry, it's usually considered rude.
“You don't say.”
He stretched out his wings. They were so thin I could see the tiny veins running across the membrane. I had to use all my will not to just scoop him up and pet his tiny head, or scratch his belly. Now, that would have been rude. Probably. Those kind of reflexions were a bit new to me.
I would stay here all night if I could, but I am starting to feel a bit hungry.
“Oh, by all means. I won't keep you.”
I heard a small squeaky sound I interpreted as a laugh, and he left. I closed the window, and the quiet made me rethink the situation. If he was gone, that would leave me some time to look into the Helder situation without him interfering. Now, I just needed the help of my favorite professional stalker. With a little smile, I slipped under my covers, and almost instantly faded into sleep.
~ ~ ~
After Vlad let me off at the University, he only came over to say hi to Leah, and announce his departure. He left right after, with a kiss for her hand, and one for my forehead.
“Do you need some ice ? You look pretty hot”, she snarked at me once he was gone. “A cold shower, perhaps ?”
“Oh, shut up, will you ?”, I groaned, placing the back of my hands onto my cheeks.
She snickered. She was the best friend I could ever hope to have, but man, as soon as someone was involved, she became absolutely unbearable.
“By the way, I need your help with something”, I told her, lowering my voice a little.
“Oooh, sneaky voice, I like it already. Tell me.”
I brought her inside, and we went straight to my office, a small, cluttered room in the old building. I dragged a folding chair next to mine, behind the heavy wooden desk.
“I'm having a weird feeling about a transfer student”, I told her. “I wondered if you could-”
Before I could even finish my sentence, she had already taken out her laptop, her glasses sitting on her nose. She turned on a bunch of apps she left running in the background, and turned to me.
“Name ?”
“Stephan Helder, with 'ph'”, I told her.
I kind of felt bad about it. If it was nothing, I was just prying into his personal life – or having Leah pry, anyway. She began typing away, and in less than three minutes, she had results. Stephan Jonathan Helder, 18, your typical genius type. Skipped a few middle-school classes, finished high-school at 15, with straight-As. Spotless criminal record, less so for the medical one, with a few bad cases of pulmonary infections. Didn't have one in years, though. Seemed like he was from a good family, but then again, no information on them showed up. Huh. I asked Leah to look into them.
“That's crazy”, she said after a good five minutes. “I mean, there's barely anything.”
“You mean he's an orphan, or something ?”
“No, it's just blacked out. I mean, most of the stuff has been scraped, erased.”
She sounded annoyed, but also excited. I knew she loved a challenge.
“Nothing I can't break”, she commented, and went back to it.
After a few more minutes, she finally had a triumphal shout.
“Got 'em”, she told me. “Stephan Jonathan Helder, the father is Thomas Mark Helder, and the mother is Mary... Huh. That's a cool name.”
“What is ?”, I asked, leaning over her shoulder to read.
My blood froze in my veins instantly.
Mary Van Helsing.
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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy
#Sola Gratia#Sola Gratia part 9#fanfiction#fanfic#dracula fanfic#dracula castlevania#dracula bbc#dracula bram stoker#dracula#vlad tepes#romance#enemies to friends to lovers#enemies to lovers#vampire#vampire x human#dracula x human#dracula x reader#dracula x oc#slow burn
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Boy Willows Drops Dreamy Music Video for "Fila" [Q&A]
Boy Willows, aka Landon Fleischman, makes music that offers a deep amalgamation of incandescent alt-pop, jubilant jazz, and psychedelic-tinged folk. Impeccably paired with sensory lyricism and passionate vocals, he delivers a hypnotic and singular resonance.
The LA-via-Maryland artist recently shared his new single "Fila" with Dylan Minnette of Wallows. On "Fila," Boy Willows stretches out to embrace relatable themes of vulnerability and healing both inwardly and outwardly without feeling overbearingly serious. "Fila" serves as a therapy session between two friends as they cope with being alone in different ways. Nestled in a warm and gentle soundscape, the sonic components are woven with nostalgia, charm, and a bit of whimsy. We caught up with Willows for a quick Q&A about the track and the equally nostalgic and whimsical music video directed by Boy Willows, shot by Seannie Bryan (Madeline Kenney, Skullcrusher) and edited by Jordan Pories.
Ones to Watch: This song, although short and sweet, seems to have a lot of complexity to it. It sounds like throughout the single, the main characters are grappling with feelings of loneliness and figuring out how to cope. What is this song about to you, and how did this song come to be?
Boy Willows: I think both verses deal with the thoughts that bubble up when you feel useless, small, or alone, but what I love about the song is there's a twinge of hope. My goal with Fila was to spur myself into believing that I could create my own reality of acceptance and momentum. I had been feeling isolated a while before the pandemic hit - on the perimeter looking in on other people's social circles or relationships or success. My hope was that by acknowledging these truths in a song, I could start to take up my own space, make my own club of acceptance per se.
What was the creative process like for the single? What made you want to go for this very ethereal sound, and were you inspired by anything in particular?
I worked on this super grand, minute-long glitchy harmony thing and pitched it down an octave (oooo). It was so soothing and slow and big, I started producing around it, and I felt like I was in a dream where I could say anything I wanted, no matter how heavy or light.
What are your thoughts on girls that wear Fila?
Haha, in short, they're cool. This song is truly a peek into all the thoughts that were swirling around my brain, making me feel alone - and one of those thoughts was about aging. I wish this wasn't the truth, but I was feeling fear about getting older. I wrote that line about Filas and didn't think much of it or even really understand why I wrote it until a couple nights ago. It's definitely a light-hearted observation about youth culture, but I think I wanted to poke fun at it cuz I felt like I wasn't a part of it for the first time - and that frightened me. It's insane that even that line was born out of the fear of being left out, but I'm pretty sure that's the true true.
I loved not only the sonic atmosphere you created, but also the story of you told through the lyrics. Do you have a favorite verse from this track or one that speaks to you? What is your approach when it comes to songwriting?
I just love how much the endings of each verse stick out - "I just feel like I don't deserve this life." It's a line you could interpret so many different ways, and each way would be true. When I'm working on a song, it starts with the music. I picture where it takes me, how fast I'm moving, if I feel cool or angry or defeated, and if I'm lucky, a phrase will fall out of my mouth that feels true, even if it doesn't make sense at first.
I think the music video does a great job of visualizing the lightheartedness of "Fila." What was the creative process like, and what was it like working with your team on the video?
There's this fucking incredible animated video called Satiemania from 1978 made by this Croatian animator, Zdenko Gašparović. In it, there's a delectable section where it's just different shoes walking in an impossibly groovy way. I wanted that tone of animation mixed with the camaraderie and fuckit-energy of The Pharcyde's "Drop" music video. I brought those ideas to my genius creative friend/ shaman, Jordan Pories, and we got to work, exploring the world of the song, trying to amplify and showcase everything in a dreamy, slow way. Seannie Bryan is a recent friend of mine and a killer DP. She captured the dreamy light perfectly. We rolled up to the spot at 6am. It was 90 degrees, and we knocked it out in an hour and a half, only stopping once because I was going to throw up from spinning.
Dylan Minette's voice perfectly compliments the laid back yet introspective vibe of the song, and it looked like y'all had a lot of fun doing the music video. What was working with him like, and how did he get involved with this single?
He and I go way back. We used to be in rival boy scout gangs. No, I do lighting for Wallows, and we met through that. One day on the tour bus, I was showing him some new tunes, one of which was "Fila." It was 35 seconds, and he said it needed to be longer, so I said, "hop on in." He added his verse, and we were OFF TO THE RACES. He's got a really strong creative compass and just knows what he likes. We finished the song in a couple days - fucking painless, dare I say, very enjoyable bordering on a lot of fun.
Tell me about Desert Mike. I feel like although rattlesnakes do deserve some love and I agree that the war between them and human beings is senseless, I'm not exactly in a rush to give them a pat on the head...Ok, but for real, tell me about this clip at the end. Is it an easter egg for a future single? In your last single, "i love it when you talk," you intercut the clips of you with film footage from the 80s and 90s. Is Desert Mike a Boy Willows creation or a relic from the past?
SHEESH, am I paying you?? because if not, then I SHOULD. The Boy Willows canon is a long, meandering labyrinth of characters that doesn't conform to traditional standards of "time" or "being funny" or "good. Desert Mike exists in all Boy Willows worlds, though, this much I can say. In the ILIWYT video, Desert Mike easily could have made a feature, and now I want to know who you've been talking to...your ability to connect the dots is...suspicious.
Has the pandemic effected you or inspired you as an artist? If so, how?
Really hot take comin at ya, I think the pandemic is not good. Bad even! I lost my job, so financially, I've been very inspired to survive haha. This isn't the sexiest answer, but the truth for me is, I put everything into my music but am also looking for a job - sometimes balancing those two things is really fucking hard. Instead of feeling inspired to write about my difficulties, I just want to solve them. So I'm really looking forward to landing a part-time gig as a call representative for Spirit Airlines, so I can get back to making my music.
Once the world comes to a state of a new normal, what's the first thing you want to do?
I'd love to travel somewhere new with my friends. A friend of mine is living in New Zealand working on an alpaca farm. You bet your ass I'm flying there at the first chance.
Alternate fun idea: Get a table at a restaurant, deep in the back, as far inside as possible. Order one appetizer every 30 minutes and stay there for a minimum of nine hours, just being so loungey and just snacking hard, mozzarella sticks flying every which way, napping in marinara sauce.
When shows and concerts are back, who do you want to see, and who do you want to tour or play with?
When touring comes back, I would LOVE to tour with Jadu Heart, Far Caspian, Sure Sure, to name a few. I just want to crowd surf for a month straight honestly. Give a ton of sweaty hugs. I want to see Toro y Moi, Thumpasaurus, Squirrel Flower.
Who have you been listening to throughout the pandemic? Are there any Ones To Watch?
A lot of Tribe Called Quest for long drives. I'll put "Check The Rhime" on repeat. I just discovered this dude named Shuttle his song "Boy" is fucking groooovy. I'm an OG KT Tunstall stan too - I've been bumping her 2013 album "Invisible Empire" like a mad man. Kevin Morby for the campy vibes, Rufus for the stank, Lomelda for the love, Van Morrison because if I get married, my first dance will be to "Crazy Love," and I like to daydream about that when I drive. Last but most important, The Prince of Egypt soundtrack.
Oh also, I've been listening to a lot of Anna Burch, Far Caspian, Bea1991, a compilation of geese wearing hats, Mei, Shuttle and this new artist you HAVE to listen to - he's a little out there but give him a try, Drake.
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Review 2 of 2
I know it’s been a month since part one of this review (which you can read HERE), but I had to collect my thoughts on this book! Not because I had mixed feelings about it - it’s honestly one of the best books I’ve ever read - but because it made me so emotional. I did write a review on Goodreads, which I’m posting below, and after that I’ve included several passages that moved me as I read. I marked a LOT of them (sorry, library), so I hope I can narrow them down. Having said that, this will get long, so more under the cut!
Tagging: @snowbellewells @reynoldsreads @whimsicallyenchantedrose @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @thislassishooked @branlovestowrite @tiganasummertree and I thought of you @distant-rose for the way Joy fell in love with England just as much as with Jack :)
****I guess you can say there are technically spoilers beyond this point, but since this is all historical information, many may already know these details. ***
Before I get into that though, I want to clarify a few questions I brought up when I was only half way through the book. I wondered about their letter writing and why those letters were destroyed. Turns out CS Lewis burned all of the letters he received because people wrote to him about very personal things, and he didn’t want those being published after his death. So, that makes sense, I guess, though it still doesn’t explain what happened to the letters he wrote to her, unless he burned those too after her death for the same reason. Jack (what his close friends called Lewis) had a civil marriage with Joy first because of immigration issues, and she and the boys lived in a separate house. However, they still spent a lot of time at the Kilns (Lewis’s home) and lived there briefly at different times. Their relationship, according to most sources, wasn’t physical at that time (however, does anyone really know for sure except for the two of them?), and the book depicts it that way. The church refused to marry them because Joy was divorced, and this was a major issue for Jack due to his faith. Only after a sympathetic priest married them in a hospital did they consummate the marriage.
The major source material for this book was an unpublished manuscript called Courage containing forty-five love sonnets Joy Davidman wrote to CS Lewis. David Gresham, Joy’s son, found them in the back of a closet in 2013. Most of the chapters in the book start with lines from these sonnets. And these sonnets are definitely intimate and passionate. I’ll confess, it’s a little weird when you imagine that famous picture of CS Lewis we’ve all seen a million times, bald headed with his pipe. Like reading sexy poems someone wrote to your grandpa. Nevertheless, the love story crafted in this book was breathtaking.
Here’s the review I wrote on Goodreads:
I almost don't know where to start with this book, it was so good! The writing style, the phrasing, the characterization, it was all stellar. I felt like I knew Joy personally reading this. I also loved how the author didn't romanticize Joy or Jack (C.S. Lewis). She wrote them flaws and all, including their physical traits. This isn't Hollywood, air brushing the protagonists so they fit society's definition of "sexy." This book proves you don't need attractive people to tell a passionate, romantic love story. Love is so much deeper than that. I think that can sum up this entire book: love sees past our flaws; love is attracted to our minds and our souls, not just our faces and bodies; and love blooms best when it's rooted in a strong friendship.
This book also tackled the sexism rampant in the 1950s and how that impacted Joy, who broke the mold on what a woman should be. It makes you realize how the social norms of the day influenced Lewis's friends and their opinions of Joy. (Tolkien despised her.) You also feel Joy's oppression under these expectations and understand why Jack's friendship meant so much to her. He viewed her as an intellectual equal, something she was desperate for. I also was heartbroken over the poor medical care she received simply because she was a woman, with the doctors often completely ignoring her to address the men in her life and making light of her symptoms. Today, she might have lived.
I refuse to read other reviews because I have a feeling many Christians won't like this book. Joy is not a sanitized Christian heroine. She would definitely fit in more with the "bad girls" of the Bible like Rahab and the woman at the well than she would with Sarah or Hannah. She was a real person who came to faith late in life. She made mistakes even after her conversion, and some of them will make the reader uncomfortable. There were a lot of gray areas in her life and in her relationship with Jack that aren't easy to grapple with. So if you're looking for a black and white, squeaky clean, shining beacon of virtue you'll be disappointed. But if you're willing to take the journey with Joy, it's a fantastic tale!
Now for some of my favorite passages! (The book is in first person from Joy’s point of view):
“What could I have done differently? I begged the tortured Christ in stained glass.
My parents had warned me - Why can’t you be softer, nicer, and kinder? Prettier? More like Renee? {Renee was a cousin and one of her husband’s many affairs.} Why couldn’t I? Was this my punishment for such self-will?”
“I stayed and felt the enormous noise vibrate through my body. Chills ran through me, and I shivered with the unceasing sounds, which were cleansing me, coursing through my veins, through my mind and my spirit. The tenor and fifth ringing together, not synchronized or in harmony but in perfect sublime sound. My boundaries dissolved; transcendence enveloped me. God was with me, and always had been. He was in the earth and the wind, in the ringing and the silence, in the pain and in the glory of my life.”
“In his office Jack didn’t just read; he went deep inside the work his eyes fell upon, taking apart the sentences and themes. And while I was nearby, he would often call my name.
‘Joy,’ he’d say, ‘what do you think . . . ‘
Off we’d go into a theological or thematic discussion. Sometimes I feared I would wake and be back in the rambling, falling-apart house in Staatsburg, Bill stumbling drunk down the hallway smelling of sex and whiskey, and find my time with Jack had only been a dream. But instead I sat in the armchair of his office at the top of the staircase discussing the meaning hidden in stories.”
“It’s not an apology, Jack. Can’t you see? It’s grace, the kind that hunts us down and doesn’t let us go. It brought us together. The grace that keeps the planets in their orbits and causes lilies to open their faces to the sun.” I dared to meet his eyes with mine. “It’s love.”
“No.” I took another sip of sherry. “I’m confused . . . . About Jack, I don’t know. This time it’s not just about some physical need. For goodness’ sake, the man smokes sixty cigarettes a day and then his pipe in between. He’s seventeen years older than I am. But he still has this great gusto for life - for beer and debate and walking and deep friendship. Christianity most definitely has not turned him into a dud. This isn’t some lust-fueled fantasy. It’s the connection between us. The discourse. The empathy. The similar paths. This isn’t some obsession with getting something, Belle. It’s the feeling of finally coming home. It��s confusing at best.”
“Red heat filled my chest. He turned to place the sword on the mantle, and the structure of his chin, the lines of his smile, caught the firelight. A line of poetry surged forward in my mind: the accidental beauty of his face.”
“He was instantly next to me, his hands on my shoulders to spin me around to face him. ‘Don’t turn from me,’ he said. ‘I cannot bear that. If we can’t indulge in eros, surely we have all the beauty that remains in philia.’ He pulled me close to wrap his arms around me. Twilight turned to night and my head rested on his shoulder and the palm of his hand was on my neck, stroking my skin with gentleness as if consoling a small child after a frightful storm.
But this wasn’t fright he was trying to subdue; this was desire. His mind might twist firm around logic, but his body divulged the truth.
It was he who let me go, and gently touched my cheek before leaving me quaking without another word.”
“Jack was alongside me every day he came to Oxford from Cambridge, and many whispered that he’d moved in. What vivid imaginations they had.
There had been a night I thought we were on a “date” - when he took me to see Bacchae, the great Greek tragedy. In the dark of the theater he had taken my hand. With our fingers wound together and the great tragic ending of the play approaching, I believed in more for us. But, alas, after leaving that darkened theater our natural rhythms returned - philia, banter, beer, and laughter.”
“At your worst?” He shook his head and his spectacles fell from his face, landed on the worn cream blanket covering my diseased body. “You are beautiful to me, Joy. You are all that is beautiful.” He tucked a stray hair back from my face. “All my life I have thought of love in a literary sense, part of a story or a fairy tale. But love is really true; I know that now. Eros - I haven’t loved completely until now. I know that.” His voice held the truth of every word spoken, a man broken by death’s threat.”
“He kissed me again. ‘Everything I’ve written since the day you walked into Eastgate has been tangled with you. How could I have not seen it at all?’”
“Will you go to them?” I took his hand in mine. “They need you, and they love you, Jack. You know that, don’t you?’
‘As I love them.’ He kissed me and left as a father to my sons.
“All the years wasted believing that love meant owning or possessing, and now the greatest love had arrived in my greatest weakness. In my supreme defeat came my grandest victory. God’s paradoxes had no end.”
“I didn’t know if others understood his deep love for me. I’d wondered and then let it go - it didn’t matter what Tollers {Jack’s nickname for Tolkien} or the Inklings or the Sayers believed. Maybe Jack had admitted his love or maybe he hadn’t, but all that mattered was that I grasped the truth. He loved me when I was brash. He loved me in my weakest state. He loved me after I stopped trying so hard to make him love me. He loved me when I was outwardly unworthy. I thought of Aslan and his words in Prince Caspian, ‘You doubt your value. Don’t run from who you are.’”
“His brown eyes seemed fathomless, their depths holding the answers. ‘Although it was your mind I loved at first, it is not what I’ve loved best. The heart of you is the heart of me now, and I want to know it fully.’”
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