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pages-of-us · 1 month ago

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Daddy's Sick

The Zane household was unusually quiet. No laughter echoing through the halls, no loud bickering over whose turn it was to control the TV, and definitely no enthusiastic chatter about the day’s events. Ralph, the anchor of the family, was confined to the master bedroom with a fever so high that even his usual dry humor had evaporated.

Andrew hovered by the bedroom door, his face lined with worry. He'd taken to sanitizing every surface within arm’s reach while balancing cups of tea and bowls of soup for Ralph, who lay bundled in blankets, his usually strong and steady presence reduced to a pale figure with a persistent cough.

The kids had been told—very clearly—not to go near him.

“No exceptions,” Andrew had said, pointing a firm finger at Yazmin, whose immediate suggestion had been to bring Ralph a pony-shaped balloon. “He needs rest, and we don’t need three sick kids running around.”

“Not even to say hi?” Yazmin had asked, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“Not even to say hi.”

“But Daddy always tucks us in!” Ellias protested.

“Not right now,” Andrew said, ruffling his hair. “For now, Daddy needs to get better. Let’s all do our part to help him from a safe distance.”

The kids had nodded solemnly, but “safe distance” was a concept that didn’t quite stick.

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Ellias, Yazmin, and Elliot huddled in the kitchen after breakfast the next day, whispering like a trio of spies plotting their next mission.

“Daddy always drinks tea in the morning,” Ellias said, standing on a stool to reach the cupboard. “We should make him some.”

“Tea’s boring,” Yazmin declared, crossing her arms. “Let’s make him hot chocolate instead. It’s way better!”

“Hot chocolate doesn’t cure anything,” Elliot said matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses. “We should stick to tea. Dadda adds honey to it, so it’s kind of sweet.”

“Fine,” Yazmin huffed. “But I’m in charge of the honey.”

The three of them got to work, which involved spilling tea leaves all over the counter, nearly breaking the kettle lid, and an argument over how much honey was “too much honey.” Yazmin, true to form, dumped in so much that the tea looked more like amber syrup by the time they were done.

When Andrew entered the kitchen, drawn by the suspicious smell of burnt something-or-other, he found Yazmin carefully balancing the mug on a tray while Ellias carried a second plate with toast piled high with butter and jam.

“What are you three doing?” Andrew asked, hands on his hips.

“Operation: Help Daddy,” Yazmin said proudly.

Andrew sighed, taking the tray from her before she could spill the sticky concoction all over the carpet. “It’s sweet of you, but I’ll take this to him. Remember what I said—safe distance.”

The three kids groaned in unison as Andrew disappeared into the bedroom.

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Not ones to be discouraged, the kids moved on to their next plan: cheering Ralph up.

“Daddy loves music,” Yazmin declared, dragging her keyboard from the twins’ room.

“Are you going to play him a song?” Ellias asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yep!”

“Do you even know how to play?” Elliot asked skeptically.

“Sort of,” Yazmin said with a shrug.

“Sort of” turned out to mean pounding random keys until the sound resembled a robot falling down the stairs.

“Stop, stop!” Ellias hissed, covering his ears. “That’s going to make him worse!”

Yazmin scowled. “Well, you come up with something better.”

“I think Daddy would like a drawing,” Elliot offered, pulling out paper and colored pencils. “He always puts our pictures on the fridge.”

That idea got everyone’s approval. Soon, the living room was littered with art supplies, and the kids got to work creating masterpieces for Ralph. Yazmin drew a unicorn, naturally, while Ellias sketched a cricket match. Elliot opted for a detailed landscape of the park they all loved visiting.

Once the drawings were finished, they taped them to the outside of Ralph’s door, knocking softly to let Andrew know they were there.

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By day three, Ralph’s absence at family meals and movie nights was starting to wear on the kids. Ellias missed his reassuring presence, Yazmin missed his jokes, and Elliot missed having someone to discuss books with.

“We haven’t even seen him!” Yazmin complained as they sat on the couch. “How do we know he’s okay?”

“Dadda said he’s fine,” Ellias reminded her.

“But what if he’s lonely?” Yazmin’s eyes widened. “What if he needs us and we’re just sitting here doing nothing?”

Elliot frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe we could talk to him—through the door.”

Yazmin’s face lit up. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

The three of them tiptoed upstairs and sat outside the bedroom door, whispering things they thought Ralph might want to hear.

“We miss you, Daddy!” Yazmin called softly.

“Hope you’re feeling better,” Ellias added.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Elliot said. “We’re being good. Mostly.”

Inside the room, Ralph chuckled weakly. Andrew, perched beside him with a fresh cup of tea, smiled. “They’re trying so hard.”

“They’re good kids,” Ralph rasped, his voice hoarse but fond. “Even if they don’t listen.”

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On the fifth day, the kids decided their small efforts weren’t enough. They needed something big.

“We should throw him a welcome-back party,” Yazmin declared.

“With balloons and cake!” Ellias said.

“And a banner,” Elliot added. “Daddy loves banners.”

The three of them spent the entire afternoon preparing. They decorated the living room with balloons, streamers, and a massive banner that read, We Love You, Daddy! Yazmin even convinced Andrew to let her bake cookies under his watchful eye, which resulted in a slightly misshapen but delicious batch.

When Ralph finally emerged from his quarantine, looking tired but much better, the kids jumped up and shouted, “Surprise!”

Ralph, still leaning on Andrew for support, laughed until he coughed. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your welcome-back party!” Yazmin announced, beaming.

Ralph smiled, his heart swelling. “You three are the best medicine I could’ve asked for.”

Andrew pulled the kids into a group hug, careful not to crush Ralph. “You’re lucky to have such a thoughtful crew,” he said.

“And we’re lucky to have you,” Ralph replied, his voice soft but full of love.

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brummiereader · 1 year ago

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Oh my god Shark!!! This was incredible 😱❤️! Thank you for sharing this amazing two part story with us! As a fan of myths and folklore this incredible masterpiece has captivated me from the very beginning. All I want to do now is pack a backpack and for us to go into the woods looking for the creatures in the myths we love so much. Can we start with fairies first though? I don't want to bump into Wendigo Heaven and Arthur and become their dinner 😳!

Now I could be wrong, buy I recognise the scene from that gif. Is it from " The Witch"? ( Black Philip's voice was so hot in that movie...see I'm messed up, I belong here. " Do you want to live deliciously" please satan stop, I'm swooning 😈😂) .

You have no idea how much I enjoyed the first scene, shark that was incredible. Like seriously 👌. "..a physical and emotional dependence most people deemed unhealthy and vaguely unsettling" why do I get this though? I've been so invested in their relationship that I feel I know them perfectly, and this unhealthy dependency they have for eachother both in HYE and this story seems normal to me. It's them, it's Arthur and Heaven. It's how they love. I loved that you brought Nina back for the second part of this story because nothing goes unnoticed by her. She's so observant in Reb's series, something you mirrored perfectly in this delicious tale. The way you described Heavens change In appearance was so frightening because we as the reader know what she craves and needs, and as she's sitting around the table you just know shes weighing up who would be the tastiest meal 😳. With his attention caught by the friction on his thigh, the gangster quickly glanced at you, concerned, and gently pressed his large and warm hand on yours in silent support. We love our supportive Arthur ❤️. Even if he knows he has to calm his wife before one of his family members becomes her dinner 😂. No but it all seriousness, I'm still in awe at his complete devotion and understanding of his wife when most men would have ran for the hills.

That was me at the dinner table when Heaven said "Can't you make her shut the fuck up?" 😱!! But to be be fair to Heaven, screaming babies even want to make you pull your hair out or run over and soothe them, I reckon she might be the first in her Wendigo state. This was such a tense scene you created but what made it even tenser and had me wide eyed was when Heaven dropped this So either you make her shut the fuck up..." You growled, the raging storm coming, "Or I'll bash her fucking head against the table!"....holy shit. I mean at this point I reckon Arthur thought he was going to self combust with the things his wife was saying. I'm about to skip forward briefly but I think it plays into this whole scene and the following one with Nina and Arthur. Heaven and Arthur are so consumed with one another that them going back to their home back to just them without anyone around, back to their bubble where it's just the two of them trapped in this new life they now have to live feels dare I say it....romantic. But in a dark twisted way. They would be hidden from family and friends were they don't have to put up this strained facade, where Arthur doesn't need to defend or contain the beast within his wife.

😩 there's literally nothing left of Arthur. That man would do anything for her, their dependency on eachother is haunting. To what lengths would he go for her...I think I know the answer 😳. The confrontation with Nina is exactly how I thought it would go, he defended Heaven within seconds. Nobody understands his wife like Arthur does. You know he'll try to cure her with a bullet between her eyes. And that's why he took her back home, and after finishing this story I'm not sure if either of them would be able to return, the woods would be their only home and now, their hunting ground 😬.

The next and final scene was so intense in every single way. I just knew Arthur would eventually do what he did, it's them against the world or nothing. I'm starting to think that their love goes beyond soulmates and they're essentially the same person the same soul that's been split in two and they're always desperately trying to be one again, they literally can't live without eachother. The last part gave me chills, I sat in front of my phone in awe at this incredible description of the antler formed shadows behind him 👌.

Hear what?” You murmured, fingers loosening their grip in his hair.“The woods’ whispers.” perfect way to end this story ❤️! And like you said in your notes, it's open to the reader. I personally think the whispers are whispers calling them home, into the woods where they belong. And god help anyone that enters Heaven and Arthurs domain.

I can't express how much I adored this Shark. You are an incredible writer hun. You have mastered the supernatural tones needed for your stories. I'm always left sitting there speechless after reading your work as my mind trys to catch up with what I just read. Amazing hun ❤️😘!! P.S, sorry for the long comment, I couldn't help it 😩.

The Woods Whisper || 2/2

Summary: After a terrific nightmare, your and Arthur’s life change for good. You start to suffer from a mysterious and excruciating hunger, which always seems to lead you to the forest.

Words: 3.5k

TW: Extreme violence, angst, cannibalism, graphic depiction of mutilation, graphic depiction of murder, gore, ehh dubcon

Notes: written for @peakyswritings's 2k celebration and Halloween. Nina belongs to her. + important notes at the end and no proofreading because we read like warrior here.

Reader is Heaven from the series Heaven in Your Eyes.

When the heavy doors of Arrow House opened, revealing your dainty frame bathed in the pale moonlight that reflected on both your silvery mane and the whiteness of your fabulous outfit, all the guests' eyes opened wide in surprise. If there is one thing they did not expect it was you participating in the dinner Tommy's new wife, Nina, had organized. While not particularly comfortable with hosting an event, the young Italian lass had wished to consolidate the family ties, missing the warmth of her own since she moved to Birmingham.

The shock of your presence did not come from resentment but rather surprise since you carefully did your best to avoid any social contact for the last couple of weeks. Getting used to Arthur coming alone to family meetings or celebrations had been utterly odd considering how symbiotic your relationship was, to the extent of becoming a physical and emotional dependence most people deemed unhealthy and vaguely unsettling. Yet, they never dared to inquire much about the matter.

The reason behind their discretion wasn't a lack of curiosity, but rather how the lanky gangster waved off the questions by replying with vague and stern explanations about some unnamed sickness that kept you in bed. Moreover, his dissuasive growls and murderous glare had been enough to keep tongues shut. But among the family and acquaintances, one soul couldn't be fooled by empty excuses and it bore the name of Nina Ferrante Shelby. The cunning dark-haired girl reckoned that the two lovebirds had been trying hard to hide an ugly truth she couldn't pinpoint yet, but her sharp eyes noticed a few details everyone else had missed.

It had started with Arthur, whom she saw compulsively readjusting his shirt's collar in an attempt to make sure that most of his flesh was well-covered, protected from indiscreet eyes. Where Tommy believed he was hiding some hickeys, Nina's honey glance caught sight of the swollen and reddish edges of a deep wound carefully hidden under the fabric of his shirt the moment Arthur had turned his head to look at Finn and rebuff him in a condescending older brother way. When his steel blue eyes met Nina's, he understood that she had seen the scar and quickly readjusted his collar, clearing his throat in embarrassment before bringing her attention to another topic but it was already too late. He had just confirmed her suspicions by doing so. The second alarming detail she caught was when she came to your house following Arthur's announcement that you were sick. She noticed how your eyes had changed since your last encounter, shivering at the way their aquamarine color had mysteriously turned one shade paler. Not only did they become almost white, but their black pupils were covered by a milky veil that rendered them as blank and glassy as a decaying corpse's. As much as Nina liked you, connecting with the wild and untamable nature you both shared, her blood would instantly run cold in her veins each time her gaze met yours: the loving and knowing looks you would often give her had turned into a dizzying void: all she could find in your eyes was emptiness.

But what had startled her the most hadn't been Arthur's odd behavior nor the disturbing abyss of your clouded eyes, but rather the frozen and disturbing something that radiated off you. In truth, you had always been surrounded by an ethereal, cold, and otherworldly threatening aura. A part of it was certainly due to your unusual appearance and your frozen beauty though. Yet, as you passed by her tonight, Nina knew it was different. You might have looked the same, dressed in a seductive and revealing dress adorned with expensive gold jewels, but apart from your familiar appearance the Sicilian nymph couldn't recognize you anymore. Worst than not recognizing the only friend she had made in England, Nina couldn't understand why her whole being reacted with unexplainable spikes of panic each time her skin grazed yours. It was as if her unconscious could foresee the monster that was lurking behind your seraphic complexions even before her eyes could.

As the dinner dragged on, Nina grasped the visible discomfort that had been growing on your face. The more minutes passed, the more you looked as if you were about to snap.

"Are you okay?" The Italian beauty mouthed, but the only reply she got was sheer silence. Overwhelmed by your bottomless hunger, you were trying your best not to let the delicious scents of human flesh get the best of you. Staring at the void, you nervously rubbed Arthur's thigh under the table and completely ignored Nina, far too busy trying not to think about her exquisite tan skin. Would she taste as sweet as the honey of her eyes? With his attention caught by the friction on his thigh, the gangster quickly glanced at you, concerned, and gently pressed his large and warm hand on yours in silent support. He knew you were starting to lose your patience.

"Can't you make her shut the fuck up?" Your siren-like voice, colder than Everest's snow, echoed in the room with such a caustic tone that Ada opened her eyes wide, an expression of pure shock on her doll-like face when you cut her off that bluntly. So bluntly even Nina, who was aware of the colder nature you hid from the rest of the world, couldn't help but almost choke on her wine.

"The hell is wrong with you, Heaven? She's a baby and sometimes babies cry! What a surprise!" Ada was quick to reply, instinctively hugging her newborn daughter closer as she cradled her. Elizabeth had been uncontrollably sobbing from the moment her big brown eyes had met your dead gaze. They said babies are more sensitive to silent threat, you know. Agnese once told Nina. Her cries, piercing and nerve-racking, had worsened the insufferable famine that howled inside of you. Not hiding your annoyance anymore, you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension of your stiff body but it didn't work, "I'm serious Heaven. You should consider getting used to it if you want to give children to Arthur one day." Ada lectured with one raised brow, making Elizabeth hop on her thighs to try to hush her. It didn't work. You dug your sharp nails into Arthur's thigh in reply, feeling your self-control break down at the child's exciting sobs and Ada's mouth-watering perfume. Arthur let out a low-key growl and squeezed your cold hand tighter.

"She's been screaming into my damn ear for God knows how long, Ada. Don't you think I've been patient enough? Isn't it enough for you to calm her down?" Your voice was hushed, barely above your normal tone, and yet its anger resonated loudly. Each word was carefully pronounced with a tense stillness between them, cold, sharp, and cutting like a razor slicing through the air, "So either you make her shut the fuck up..." You growled, the raging storm coming, "Or I'll bash her fucking head against the table!" You suddenly commanded, standing up so violently that your chair fell behind you in a noisy thud.

" Arthur!" Ada screamed, astounded and furious at your insolence.

"Arthur! Can't you control your wife?! Oh Arthur! Can't you put a damn leash around her neck?!" You cut her off, hitting the dining table with your delicate palms. All the plates and glasses clinked. Silence fell upon the room, the family now looking at you in a combination of fright and surprise. Even Tommy, who never missed an opportunity to fight with you, found himself petrified by your rage. It was even more surprising considering how you weren't the one to lose your temper easily, rather leaving this behavior to your husband. In other circumstances, Nina would have giggled for when she talked one could often hear revolution, but it didn't make her laugh. Quite the contrary. She stood up at the same time Arthur did, and gently put her warm hands on Ada's shoulders while the lanky gangster wrapped your waist protectively and pulled you closer.

"Please Ada, don't take it personally," Nina started, "Heaven's been struggling to sleep for weeks, that's just the fatigue talking. Right Arthur?"

"Right." The oldest Shelby brother mumbled, "C'm'here angel, you're going to rest a bit in one of the guest's bedrooms ay." And without further ado nor apologies, Arthur hurried on and led you out of the dining room, quickly climbing the stairs of Arrow house to lock both of you in another wing of the mansion. "Okay you calm down now. Told ye it was a bad idea." He urged, his calloused hand cupping your face to keep you focused.

"But Nina worked her arse off for this party. I had to come." You grunted through gritted teeth, all of them sharp and pointy except for the upper and lower central incisors, "I feel like I'm becoming crazy." Pushing Arthur away, you started to pace in the bedroom while pulling your hair back. The gangster's eyes followed your every move, heart racing in his chest as he witnessed you becoming more and more feral and mentally unstable. He knew he had to do something before you slipped into another murderous craze, as you did the night you came back covered with fresh blood.

When Arthur exited the room he was as white as a ghost. Wobbling on his long legs, the gangster made a few steps before he had to lean against the wall so as not to fall on the wooden floor of the corridor. He had lost so much blood that he was pale and sweaty, a confused look etched on his face. With his breathing shallow and ragged, Arthur knew he was about to faint at any minute. After a quick but rough fuck, he had cradled your dainty body in his arms while your teeth broke his skin and muscle — He didn't let it show, but he had almost passed out twice. Bringing one trembling hand to his forehead, the gangster let out a shaky sigh as he relished the cold sensation of his rings against his burning skin.

"Take." A ghostly female voice resounded in the hallway, making him turn around in one vivid movement that instantly made him regret doing so. He grunted, the drowsy feeling worsening, but as black dots appeared in front of his eyes, he could still recognize the charming silhouette of Nina who was handling him some chocolate squares. Her magnificent amber eyes curiously gawked at him, then at the red stain on his disheveled shirt he didn't even button up properly, "It would be a shame for you to die the night I hold my first party here. And Tommy wouldn't be happy about that."

"Fookin' hilarious, eh." Arthur grunted but still took the chocolate, quickly putting two squares in his mouth. Not that it would be the first time Nina would see him collapse on the floor, usually drunk as fuck, but it just wasn't the same. Fortunately for him, sugar did its miracle and he soon retrieved color.

"Eat everything, stùpitu. It will do you good. My whole lineage would probably pray for you if they ever see how slim you are." Nina stated quietly, but asparkle glowed in her cunning eyes. Her brother-in-law raised a brow but obeyed, eating the rest of the chocolate before quickly slicking his hair back to tame the wild locks that had fallen in front of his face. "Now you gotta tell me what's wrong with Heaven."

"For fuck's sake," Arthur growled and rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by Nina's insistence, "Told ye, she's sick." And that was all he said, already turning his heels to leave but Nina managed to grab him by the wrist before he even moved, her small hand firmly tightening its grip around him.

“Enough with the bullshit, Arthur. I heard uncle Charlie and Curly talked days ago. They said you came at night with three half-eaten corpses, asking them to help you hide them!” She retorted more bluntly than what the gangster expected. Astonished by the girl's temper he shot her a murderous look from over his shoulder. It didn’t seem to impress her — not in the slightest. Danger wasn't Arthur Shelby to her, it had been Stefanor Spinetta and a forced wedding. Now that she was far away from those two threats, nothing seemed to sincerely scare her anymore, "Look at you! Do you think I'm stupid or blind?" Her fingers clenched around his wrist even more, clinging to his warm freckled skin, “She’s not herself and you know it! Look at what she did to you! What happened to her?”

“Piss off, Nina! That's none of your fookin' business ay.” He snarled, teeth bared like a rabid animal about to bite. If she hadn’t been family, he would have probably gone for her throat but, instead, he just snatched his wrist from her with one violent movement that almost made her trip on her own feet.

“Vaffanculo!” Nina not being afraid of him was one thing, but her throwing herself in his arms to tear his shirt apart and expose his chest was another. He had tried to push her but she had been too quick. Arthur stood there motionless in the dim-lit corridor, mouth agape, and steel blue eyes wide open as Nina stepped back, one of her hands covering her mouth as she saw them. The dozen red and swollen bite marks on her brother-in-law's neck, shoulders, and torso. A whispered prayer escaped from her charming lips as her honey-pools eyes surveyed the wounds, some of them indicating that his flesh had been ripped off. It was a miracle Arthur didn't already die from pain, blood loss, or infection.

"Nina, love." He started, his voice soft and quiet as if he was cautiously trying to approach a wild animal, "You shouldn't tell anyone alright?" Arthur made one step towards her but she backed off in reflex, terrified, "Not even Tommy alright? You know he'll try to cure her with a bullet between her eyes."

Arthur and you left Arrow House in a hurry, right after Nina had lent him one of Tommy's shirts. She didn't know why she helped, but she did, probably feeling guilty of discovering something she shouldn't have.

It has been three days since the disastrous party, and since then you refused to leave your house, afraid of losing control again. Three days during which you remained curled up on the sofa, your blank eyes staring at the hearth. Arthur had been outside since the early morning doing God knew what, so all you did was keep watching the fire and trying to ignore the whispers. Its dancing flames, casting their orange glow on your face, didn't even manage to warm up your dying body. Absent from your own mind, you didn't even hear Arthur coming, nor leaning against the door with his arms crossed, observing you with undescribable worries shining in his loving eyes. His throat tightened with frustration at how powerless he was starting to feel, not able to do anything except watch you slowly disappear until all remained was an empty carcass only animated by hunger and bloodthirst. Somehow, he hoped what he did in the forest would soon bring you some comfort.

"Angel," he called, walking towards you and putting one gentle hand on your shoulder. He had barely touched your skin when he backed off, your iciness biting him as if he had just dipped his hand in liquid nitrogen. You looked at him, offering him a tired smile -- a smile that was only expressed by your lips curling, for your cloudy eyes looked desperately devoid of life.

"Oh, your skin's warm. It feels good."

"Come on, we'll take a hot shower." He said, pressing a kiss on your head and helping you stand up.

"Hm." You didn't protest, in fact, you let him handle you as easily as a lifeless doll until you were both in the bathroom, Arthur's skilled hands running down your shoulders and making your nightgown fall at your feet. All you did was shiver with cold, goosebumps adorning your marble skin at the frost that had settled in your bones. "I'm cold, Art..."

"I know, love." His gravelly voice slightly trembled as his fingers roamed over your protruding ribs. With thick eyebrows knitted together, Arthur let out a long sigh, "You really need to eat." He said, the palm of his free hand caressing one of the pointy bones of your hips. Still, he found you as stunning and mesmerizing as he always did.

"No, I don't want to kill another family." You retorted, pursing your juicy and glossy lips together like a sulking teen. Not that you felt any kind of emotional empathy towards your victims, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either if omitting the gargantuan pleasure of finally feeling satiated for a while. The most annoying part had been eating their daughter, no matter how tasty, fresh, and juicy her flesh had been. With that being said, you turned your head to the other side to deny him a kiss. Arthur grunted and pushed you a bit more impatiently into the shower, frustrated by your bratty behavior, which didn't disappear despite all the changes you've been through lately.

"And I don't want to see ye starving yourself," He scolded, joining you.

“It’s freezing!” You hissed, not even noticing the suffocating steam that accumulated in the shower nor how reddened your husband's skin was at the places where the burning water rained down. The feeling of it on his freshest wounds made him grit his teeth but the pain didn’t keep him from staying in the shower with you.

“It’s burning hot, love,” Arthur replied, his gravelly voice softened, filled with undeniable concern at your inability to properly feel the temperature. Noticing that you were quite literally shivering despite the hot water pouring on the two of you, the gangster’s slim arms wrapped your waist and pulled you closer to interlock your bodies. Each of your curves and shapes perfectly melted into each other, like the pieces of the same jigsaw. Only when you crashed against him you let out a sigh of relief, your shivers suddenly disappearing, and Arthur’s natural warmth spreading under your skin, crawling to your icy heart.

You hugged him back softly. Then tighter. More, I need more of him. Then so hard that your nails broke the skin of his back, scratching him until his crimson blood stained your growing claws. A hoarse whimper escaped from his trembling lips, halfway between pleasure and pain. Lately, your relationship has been filled with pain. So much pain. So much blood. You hurt him with teeth and claws, and you ate his very flesh, but to Arthur and his mind, which was sinking as deep as yours, it felt like true love.

"You don't want to kill ay," He mumbled between two kisses, "Fine, I'll do it for ye hmm?"

"No, it's not your role to do th—" He didn't let you finish your sentence, moaning as you scratched his back again, leaving long and red cuts on his flesh.

"Listen, little one," He grunted, one hand pressing against the wet wall of the shower to keep his thrusts steady, the other grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him right in the eyes, "I'll do anything for ye. Any-fucking-thing."

"Ow!" You winced when Arthur hit a painful spot inside of you but suffering quickly blended with pleasure.

"I'll let you eat me own flesh y'know." He growled again before stroking the fragile skin of your throat with his hungry tongue, the caress of his mustache sending shivers down your spine, "But you don't want that ay? And ye don't want to kill either but love, the truth is ye need to eat fookin' human flesh hm. Fuck—" He slammed his hips more fiercely, your love-making looking more like savage breeding than anything else lately. One might even wonder if pleasure was really the goal behind it, or if you were trying to see who could hurt the other the most, "So I'll —slam— fookin' —slam— hunt fresh meat —slam— for you. For us."

"Arthur! St— Stop." His sudden roughness startled you, making you momentarily snap from your emptiness. Surprised and overwhelmed, you tried to gently push him away in order to make him stop, or at least, to make him slow down his merciless pace but he didn't.

"Don't." He hissed in your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your cheek and his scorching breath fanning over your skin. The faint and familiar whiskey scent would have usually lulled you if your sharp senses hadn’t grasped the metallic smell of blood. "I said don't.” He repeated on a firmer tome, letting go of your chin. His free hand was now firmly grabbing one of your butt cheeks to keep you from pulling your hips away from him.

You screamed at the sharp, searing pain that jolted through your body like lightning, sending a wave of raw sensation crashing against your neck. The violence with which Arthur had bitten your flesh was a shock, the intensity so sudden and overwhelming that for a moment, you felt lost in a world where pain was the only constant. His lips curled as blood gushed from the bite, tainting your immaculate marbled skin with red trickles. Eyes rolling back into his head as pleasure washed over him, Arthur hummed. "No..." You whined, panic coursing through your veins as you slowly understood the reason behind his absence earlier and the erratic behavior he was displaying. "What the fuck did you do?!" You yelled at him, struggling in his arms and whimpering at the same time, assaulted by his relentless thrusts and trapped between his body and the shower wall.

Nevertheless, you managed to slip one trembling hand on the back of his head while he relished the sweet taste of your ambrosia blood and the tightness of your sensitive walls around him. Gathering your remaining strength, you pulled him by his wet hair to free your neck from his bleeding and starving mouth. He hissed like a wildcat it reply. "Why?! Why did you do that, you bloody idiot?!" Your agonizing and furious screams seemed to work some sense back in his head though. He finally slowed down, now barely moving. In fact, he just rolled his hips sensually against yours, which resulted in a wave of pleasure that eased your pain and made you feel comfortably full.

" 'Cause I love you.” He stated, “Remember what we said when we decided to get married?" His crimson lips curled in a twisted smile, beads of blood clinging to his mustache. "If you suffer, I'll suffer. If you die I'll die," He repeated, like a proud schoolboy who had learned his lesson by heart. A gloomy and obsessive one. "And if you starve, I'll starve..." A glimmer of madness sparkled in his eyes. As the moonlight enlightened his face through the window, its deathly glow casting antlers-shaped shadows behind him, the darkness of his pupils faded from his eyes, losing their usual depth and color for an empty fog. “And if you hear them, I’ll do it to.”

“Hear what?” You murmured, fingers loosening their grip in his hair.

“The woods’ whispers.”

notes: You’ve reached the end of this story, congratulations! Admittedly it didn’t come out as I wanted first but it would have been far too long and I didn’t feel like writing a whole new series. Also it was supposed to be more graphic. When referring to the Algonquian myth of the Wendigo there are two ways to turn into one: either by dreaming of it like Heaven, who was plagued by its spirit since she was young, or by eating human flesh. This explain why his transformation is faster than Heaven’s. Upon discovering what she suffered from, Arthur decided to eat human flesh and turn into one not only to share her pain, but also to remain by Heaven’s side forever. He knew that her new condition meant she would live quite eternally and didn’t want to leave her alone. The ending is open: it’s up to you to what the woods are whispering to them and also what happens to both of them after this. Thank you for reading this disturbing Halloween AU!

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996

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space-dragon-ace · 3 years ago

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Draw me

Pairing: Albedo x Reader Word count: 891 Description: Art block is horrible. Good thing you have the right cure for it Additional info: Inspired by a post by manic-nova Tagging @clouds-rambles; @deadlyboyy; @irethepotato; @manic-nova

„Everything alright, hun?“, you asked, even though you could see that no, everything was not okay. Albedo's head was laying on the table, hands in his hair and art supplies thrown all over the surface, some of the papers even laid on the floor. The signs were more than clear, your husband suffered from an art block. Which was very unfortunate, there was a deadline he had to meet and many illustrations to make. „You have eyes, you can see“, he grumbled from his position, causing you to sigh. Sitting down next to him, you rubbed a hand over his back in comfort. „That bad?“ He only nodded, moving so he could use your lap as a pillow, burying his face at your thighs. „Every time I get an idea, I end up scratching it. I lose focus halfway through“, he explained his problem, „I need something to focus.“

„So...drawing things you don't see is not bringing you places right now?“, you carefully asked, receiving a nod. A smile spread on your face, and you pulled Albedo up. Your hands cupped his face before you kissed him on the nose and on the lips for a moment. „Draw me, hun.“ Albedo blinked, this proposal seemed to have thrown him off-guard. Yet the idea was not bad, it checked all the boxes he needed right now. He could see you, didn't need to use his imagination and he could ogle you all he wanted.

„That is a wonderful idea, my love“, he said, his smile matching yours. Before you could chuckle and make a remark, he kissed you. „Go dress into something comfortable~ I'll prepare a comfy nest of blankets and pillows for you~“ You giggled, kissing his nose again before leaving. It took a bit to find an outfit that satisfied both the want to be comfortable and also the desire to not look like a formless blob. Didn't want to make it too easy for you beloved, after all. If it was, he would be done too soon and his art block would not be cured, leaving him with less time and still no inspiration. Which was against why you did this in the first place. As you came back into the living room, you saw your husband piling up and arranging various pillows and blankets on the couch, trying to set a scene and also make it look like the perfect background for the painting. You chuckled, announcing your presence. Albedo spun around, a smile on his face, evidence on how much he wanted to draw you. It was cute, really. „Looks great, my dear“, you said, kissing his cheek before settling among the pillows. He smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting down on it, canvas on the stand and pencils ready as if his life depended on them. Archons above, you loved this man.

„Well then, Mister Artist~“, you chuckled, quoting from a play you recently saw, „Draw me like one of your fountaine girls~“ Albedo snorted, remembering how much you talked about that play, especially that line. Seemed like you finally found a good way to use it, even with fitting context. You giggled while you watched him, and the sound was infecting. He needed to control his own laughter, or his hands would shake too much to make a usable sketch. „Stop giggling“, he demanded, though his voice was soft and almost a giggle itself, „You're distracting me.“ The comment made you giggle even more. „What can I say? I'm having fun, and I can admire my husband doing something he loves.“ Albedo blushed a bit, a tiny smile on his lips. „And I can stare at my beloved all I want~ And create a masterpiece for our living room~“ Now it was your turn to blush, the thought of Albedo wanting to keep the picture not even having crossed your mind. Then again, Albedo kept everything related to you. Even the pebble you swore looked like a heart, when nobody else saw it. That little thing never left his pocket and he had gone crazy when he thought he lost it once. People could say what they wanted about him, but Albedo was a lovesick fool when it came to you.

Not that you minded it at all. Moments like this were the ones you lived for. The quiet peace, when you both were filled with content and love. Eyes meeting each other, soft smiles shared. Times when you could both laugh about yourselves, not having to put on a facade for anyone else. Just the two of you, wrapped up in your love for each other. Just the purest of love, sometimes silly, sometimes tender. Just for the two of you, and no one else. You felt the warmth of the moment bubble in your chest, before filling your entire body. „I love you“, you whispered, and heard how the pencil stopped on the canvas. Albedo stood up, walking over and kneeling down to you. Gently, he placed a kiss on your lips, smiling. „I love you too, [Y/N]“, he whispered back. You returned his smile, before he went back to his work. This was another moment engraved in your memory forever. And judging by how the smile didn't leave Albedo's face, it would be the same to him.

#albedo x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gn reader

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ali-kitkat · 3 years ago

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Strangeness and Charm

MGI 2021 One-Year Anniversary Gift Exchange

hello, im back for a little post for @khneltea you are the recipient for enemies to lovers and by gods i hope you like this! romantic, or well its implied, daminette enemies to lovers! also tagging @issaxcharlie as per requested in the server!

fic is under the cut!

Marinette understood that the bat team was sent to Paris to help her; now that it was just herself against Papillon, but she really wanted to kick Robin’s teeth in. She couldn’t stand him. He was a self-centered, entitled, little shit. How dare he come into her city and tell her how to do her job?

The akuma attacks had been sporadic since she had revoked Chat Noir’s miraculous and the only attack that had occurred since Robin and the rest of the bats had arrived was Mister Pigeon. However, if she was being honest with herself that hardly counted as an attack in her or anyone’s books anymore.

It took all of her self control to not throttle him on the rooftop, after she had cast the miraculous cure, when he said “If this is what qualifies as an attack for you, I would hate to see how you would fare against even one of Gotham’s villains.” She was livid, he had based his opinions on akuma attacks by one attack and one attack only.

He had only been in Paris for a week and this is how he treated her, because of one little flare up by their resident akuma magnet? He had no idea what even counted as an attack in Paris nowadays.

Mister Pigeon? Definitely not.

Siren? Absolutely.

Due to him being close to her in age, she had constantly paired up with him during her nightly patrols and she hated it. She wondered if this was his team's way of trying to get him to socialize or work on his people skills. If so, they were doing an absolutely shit job of it.

At this point she really had debated whether or not being on Batman’s shit list would be worth dangling Robin from the Eiffel Tower by his ankles. She could do it. She knows she could, she had done it before in fact, to Chat before she took his miraculous away from him. In the end, she decided that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble it would cause her; but if she did accidentally hit him with her yo-yo while patrolling with him that night, no one would be the wiser.

She elected to ignore the muttered curses and detoured from her usual route in an attempt to get away from the miserable bastard. Of course, Robin then scolded her for running away and being an inferior hero. At that point she decided to put even more distance between them, only to prevent herself from injuring a potential ally. If he could even be called that with his constant berating and demeanor.

It was then that she heard a scream, an akuma. Kwami, she hoped it wasn’t Sandboy again, especially since his usual appearances were during the night.

She cast a quick glance at Robin and decided to leave him be. She took off in the direction of the scream, he was preoccupied by something on his gauntlet, if the blue light it was emitting was an indicator. Besides she had been fighting akumas for years now, the last thing she needed was Robin’s attitude and chiding rather than his help.

He didn’t need to see her nightmares either if it was in fact Sandboy who was akumatized as well. Sure, she wasn’t exactly the same thirteen year old girl she was when she first started battling akumas but Robin certainly didn’t need any more ammunition to use against her.

He didn’t need to see that her nightmares were of herself, whispering in her ear, telling her to give up. That she was a failure, that she should just let Papillon have the miraculous. It would all be over, it wasn’t like she would remember that she was Ladybug anyways. Whatever wish he would make would erase the current timeline out of existence. She hated seeing it.

When she touched down on the street, the first thing she noticed was that it was empty. There was no sign of any akuma, no destruction or frozen bodies. There wasn’t anything, it was too empty, as if the people had just up and disappeared. It was incredibly unnerving.

Casting another look around, she saw something dart into the shadows of an alleyway. She jumped to a neighboring rooftop and looked down. There it was, the akuma. They didn’t look like anything special, no obnoxious colours or outrageous outfits. Just someone in a simple, sleek suit in muted colours, their hair tied back in a dark braid and a drooping butterfly mask that looked like ruined eyeliner.

They looked up and made eye contact. She flung herself back on the rooftop. The akuma’s eyes looked empty, there was no emotion or life in them. It was disconcerting.

She looked back down into the alleyway to try to get another read on the akuma. They were gone. She rose to her feet and looked around again, just in case she missed something.

“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here,” a low, gravelly voice called out. It sounded as if they had gargled glass. Marinette quickly turned around to see the akuma at the other end of the rooftop. “A little ladybug all alone. Let us see what kind of memories you hold, heroine.”

Then suddenly the akuma was in front of her, arm outstretched and their hand was pressed against her forehead. She watched as her memories played out in real time before her and the akuma. She watched as her memories played side by side, all at once. It was headache inducing.

Marinette saw the first friend she made in almost a decade. She saw Lila threaten her and her friendships. She saw the day she had met Tikki, and the day she had received guardianship of the miracle box from Fu. She watched as flashes of her homelife flashed by, the few happy memories of her parents before the bakery’s popularity increased, before they began to neglect her. Before Lila’s honeyed words ruined what little she had left of them.

She watched as memories of previous akuma attacks played out. Of how Chat Noir acted away from the crowds and cameras, how treated her like an object to be won rather than a person. She watched as she had scrubbed herself raw in the shower after he had touched her, as she scrubbed her teeth after he forced a kiss on her.

She watched as the attacks ended and her reunions with her friends had turned into screaming fits. The shouts of how she was flakey and that if she was just going to hang out with them only to ditch them halfway through their time together that they were no longer going to be friends anymore, that they were better off without her. She watched as Lila smiled from across the room, where she comforted her former friend. As Lila’s promises came to fruition.

She watched as her nightmares flashed by just as quick of her looking in the mirror, looking at the scars that the miraculous cure hadn’t healed. As her reflection had started to speak. That she should give up, let Papillon have the miraculous. That she wasn’t worth it, that she was all alone. As the whispered words of her former friends had joined in. She watched as images of Chat had appeared telling her that she was his and no one else’s.

She watched as she was left to pick up the pieces of her life.

Suddenly she was wrenched back and someone was holding her against their person. She could see one of the bat-themed vigilantes fighting against the akuma, it looked to be Red Hood with the way the streetlight was glinting off his helmet. She could hear herself breathing heavily and could feel the tears streaming down her face as she was swung away from the akuma.

When the person holding her landed on a different rooftop, she wrenched herself out of their arms. She hit the rooftop with a thud and scrambled as far away from them as she could possibly get; then she buried her face in her knees. She covered her ears with her hands, hoping to block out the unrelenting images of her memories and nightmares. She didn’t want to see or hear anything. She certainly didn’t want to see anyone’s pitying looks or hear their scorn. She just wanted to forget, this akuma was most definitely Papillon’s newest masterpiece.

She flinched when a hand settled on her shoulder and tried to inch away from it, without removing her hands from her ears. Unfortunately, the hand remained, grounding her ever so slightly. Finally she gave in and looked up. Robin was watching her, but rather than disdain or pity, his face was pinched with concern. She huffed out a laugh, it was weak and made Robin flinch. She shrugged his hand off and stood; she held her head high and wiped her tears away. Ignoring his questioning looks, she tossed her yo-yo out.

“Ladybug,” he said softly.

“Don’t. Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t care,” she croaked. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, she just wanted to be done with this night and its horrors.

“Ladybug,” he repeated. “Regardless of whatever you might think or feel, you are not alone. There are plenty of other heroes who know exactly how you feel, who have been exactly where you are.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Of course Robin of all people had seen her memories, her nightmares and her fears. She turned and glared at him, though she imagined it wasn’t all that effective. What with her tear streaked face and red eyes.

“I know how you feel,” Robin sighed and she deflated. “That your best is not enough, that you, yourself are not good enough. I have been in your shoes. I have felt alone.”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” she sniped bitterly, closing in on herself.

“I apologize,” Robin stated.

“What?”

“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I realize that I may have come off as too brusque and in doing so have diminished your accomplishments.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just playing at being a hero. My villain just found out my identity and so did all of you and your team.”

“That being, it was not, nor is it, your fault,” he replied. “I made assumptions of which I am at fault for, and of which caused the predicament of which you have found yourself in. You cannot quit or give up because of several imbeciles, because if you do, you let them win. You do not strike me as a sore loser, Ladybug.”

Marinette let out a laugh and watched as Robin’s expression shifted. He no longer looked concerned, but was now smiling wryly at her. She returned the smile. “Thank you Robin.”

“You are welcome,” he said. “Now I believe you have an akuma to take care of? Would you care for some assistance?”

“I would,” she replied.

“I look forward to working with you more,” he said, “Marinette.”

Marinette nodded, feeling her face flush at the way Robin said her name. “I do too Robin. I do too.”

#maribat #daminette #mgi 1 year anniversary #ali-kitkat's writing #ali-kitkat writes #i live

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regina-del-cielo · 4 years ago

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I was thinking about Copley’s Murder Conspirancy Board (mostly to deal with the absolute rage that the scene with Andy Copley and Booker gives me because ‘UGH THESE MEN ARE SO S T U P I D’), and... I may have a Theory about it - which mostly delves into how much Booker and Copley were in actual contact with each other before the events of the movie.

TL;DR: the Murder Conspirancy Board was built with a contribution of Booker’s information, and Copley was Very Confused on the workings of the Guard’s immortality

(the Essay(TM) is under the cut)

This excellent post expounds on how these two Grieving Dumbasses Definitely Did Not Think Their Plan Through, but still what little they did plan was not done in two days. And I would like to think that Booker would have required more than One (1) Persuasive Speech to get him to potentially get his family outed and put in danger for the (tiny) chance of getting a cure for their immortality.

So they’d been in contact for a while, possibly for almost the whole ‘break year’. Copley has lost his wife two years before the movie, so when he and Booker met again he’s one year into mourning. If Andy needed a break from their jobs, I can’t imagine in what mental state Booker must have been.

Copley probably started looking into the Guard because man, that Surabaya mission was a masterpiece, and how come these guys aren’t mercenary superstars? But they’re like ghosts, and the IDs don’t really match their supposed ages... and dealing with his wife’s death made him go into a Nerd Spiral. And then he finds Booker.

So this is how I think it went: they meet again. They talk. Copley is a grieving widower, Booker goes ‘man don’t I relate’. Booker is probably drunk a lot of the time (maybe so is Copley, misery loves company and all that). They enter a positive feedback loop of sharing grief over lost loved ones. Copley probably spills that he knows something, that they’ve done great things and they have a gift obviously. Booker probably answers along the lines of ‘fuck the gift, it sucks. Didn’t save my children when they needed it’. Copley goes ‘well, medicine is much better today. What if you could do it now?’ And the rest is history.

A) Booker ‘helped’ with the Murder Conspirancy Board

We know for a fact that the Conspirancy Board contains information about the Guard ‘from the last 150 years’ which is, approximately, the time photography’s been around. And it makes sense - photos are pretty easily accessible, and Copley knows their faces. He probably scanned them from one of those fake IDs and then used a facial recognition software to find them in historical photographic archives. But we know (and by the end of the movie so does he) that the last 150 years is a nothing in their lifespan. And while going backwards Copley may have found Booker’s original birth and/or marriage records, nothing of the sort would exist for Joe, Nicky and Andy.

Despite how much we joke about the Guard’s faces being Everywhere in museums and art galleries around the world, we can assume that they wouldn’t leave so many traces of them behind. The two known art pieces representing Andy in an obviously recognizable manner, her portrait with Achilles and the Rodin, are in the cave in Val d’Argent. I don’t believe Nicky and Joe wouldn’t have similar storage places, especially for Joe’s own art. Without photographic evidence and before newspapers, trying to pinpoint the three of them across history would be harder than finding a specific needle in a haystack of needles... unless someone tells you where to look.

When Andy enters Copley’s living room, he calls her ‘Andromache the Scythian, the eternal warrior’. But how could Copley have known that Andy’s “real” name was Andromache? It’s not on her IDs, and it’s not the top choice for a full name that has Andy as a nickname. It’s a literary name, of course it would appear through history in poems or plays or novels. And how could he have associated Nicky and Joe precisely to the Crusades with what he knows of them from the last 150 years alone? For all he knew, they could have been as old as the Punic Wars, or as young as the Battle of Lepanto. Assuming he’d actually caught on on them being together together.

Well, I think Booker told him. Maybe just a thing here or there, while Commiserating on How It Sucks being an Immortal, like ‘Andy’s been around for so long she doesn’t even remember her true age, that’s exhausting’ or ‘Joe and Nicky are ridiculous for two people whose first meeting consisted of killing each other during the fucking Crusades’. And Copley fell into another Nerd Spiral that brought him to understand that holy shit these people are much older than I thought what the fuck.

B) Copley is Very Confused on How Immortality Actually Works

Copley talks to Andy by calling her ‘eternal warrior’ and talking of her immortality as if it was some kind of gift that can somehow be transferred from one body to another (debatable, but... ok). But he’s also flabbergasted by her not healing from Booker’s shot, and later with Nile he says ‘but then why would the immortality leave?’, which is... well, it makes it sound like he thinks the immortals are some sort of Chosen Ones.

Which means that Copley knows nothing about Lykon. He had no idea that at some point the Guard will stop healing.

But why would he not know, since I just conjectured that Booker told him enough about immortality for him to pinpoint the origins of the eldest members of the Guard? Why would Booker not have told him such a central detail of their “power”? (Booker obviously knows about Lykon. We see Andy telling Nile, and you can bet that ‘is this thing permanent?’ is probably the third question Booker ever asked when he met the others. He can’t not know)

I think it’s because despite having bonded over their grief, they are approaching this ‘discovering what the fuck is up with immortality’ from two extremely different sides.

Copley wants to know if there is some biological aspect to their immortality that may be ‘transferred’ or ‘activated’ in any random human being. He’s gotten into his head that their regenerative powers can end all diseases. Which. I could probably write another entire separate post on how this is far-fetched at best. Point being, Copley never thought his endeavour as taking the immortality from the Guard to give it to someone else. He thinks Andy and the others are going to live forever and ever.

Booker knows their immortality is not forever and ever, theoretically. He knows that at some point, in the future, he’s going to stop healing and die. But he Wants to Talk to the Manager about it, damn it. He wants his death to be a certainty he can quantify, not something that may happen in another five thousand years based on the data he’s got at his disposal. He wants to have the choice to end it tomorrow or in fifty years - if discovering what causes his immortality saves other people, well that’s an undeniable bonus, but it’s not the focus of his motivation.

Just like Booker and Copley didn’t cover all the potential ways in which Their Plan Could Go Wrong (and honestly, has Booker not learned yet just how fast they revive on average? He tells Nile that ‘big wounds take longer’, and still he revived from the grenade in three/four minutes!), I think they also didn’t Delve into their motivations for seeking that knowledge. Booker probably thought that Copley knowing of their immortality being relative was irrelevant, because of course the doctors will find something (the thing that makes them stop healing), and then he’ll die anyway, so who cares?

And Copley... Copley was probably Convinced that the Guard was a group of superheroes that just needed to be suggested a new investment plan for using their powers, because saving individuals during wars and natural disasters is very noble and good, but come on, it’s inefficient as hell, they can do much better!

(It absolutely sends me that Copley saw the kind of accomplishments reached by the people that the Guard saved, or by their direct descendants, and STILL it didn’t occur to him that there was a pretty decent chance that sometime in the future they would save someone that would find the cure for ALS and/or other shitty diseases! HE’S LITERALLY HINDERING THEM!!!)

#the old guard #my ponderings #james copley #sebastien le livre #my favourite Depressed French Boi #James 'Dumb of Ass' Copley #Copley is an Absolute Imbecile and I will Die on this Hill #I hope this rant makes sense I changed the order of the paragraphs a hundred times I'm sorry #just to be clear Booker didn't Completely Spill the Beans about the family to Copley otherwise the man would know about Quynh too #Copley most likely scraped at any small detail he could glean from their conversations and add it to the Nerd Spiral #Copley is a Nerd that also somehow forgot how to extrapolate results from given data #for the Guard's sake I hope his skills were hindered by his grief and he goes back to Full Operativeness once he gets some Therapy #THEY NEED SO MUCH THERAPY OMG

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opalescient · 4 years ago

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haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #fic rec #beautiful #writing #ao3 fanfic #daisuga #kuroken #bokuaka #tsukkiyama #kagehina #third gym #iwaoi #fic #reference #hq

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ratingtheframe · 4 years ago

Text

10 Films to watch this Valentine’s Day if you’re single as hell.

If anyone or anything is making you feel worthless on the Capitalist Holiday that is Valentine’s Day because you’re single AF, then don’t fret because it means one of two things;

You’re happy enough with yourself to not need anyone else.

You’re allergic to people.

Though mine is both the former and the latter, I can still get down to a good romance movie now and again. Now I’m not talking about those horrendous rom coms that Netflix seems to be churning out every damn minute, but those emotionally invested, earthy and well written dramas that has you ugly crying into your bathrobe for 17 minutes straight (me at the end of Her.). Here is a compiled list of some of the best romance films I’ve seen over the years and how each one doesn’t showcase an abundance of clichés and brands them as “acts of love”.

A Star is Born (2018 or 1953, take your pick)

I’ve found that both the 1953 version of A Star is Born with Judy Garland and the 2018 newer version to be a perfect and well rounded love story. What makes this love story so fierce is the vulnerabilities and downfall of its characters, which even though there are many sad moments, it perpetuates and strengthens the acts of love shown in the film. Both versions are similar in that they follow a woman who’s rise to fame as a performer becomes overshadowed by her jealous partner, who is also a notable celebrity. In the 2018 version starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, Gaga’s character Ally is helped by a country singer, Jackson Maine to become a successful singer and icon amongst the music industry. As she rises, Jackson falls and the character dynamics and intensity between them is a fitting love story. I was thoroughly bawling at the end and I guarantee you will too as Lady Gaga’s rendition of Love Again was the true scene stealer of the film.

Call me by your name (2017)

I have an incredible bias towards this film and it has nothing to do with the film’s context or characters or even Timothée Chalamet The reason why I feel so connected to this film and proclaim it as my favourite film of all time is because of when I watched the film. It’s almost like seeing a film about a political event right after it's happened; you have this rush and connection towards something that’s actually affected you in the real world. I had the same feeling with Call me by your name after going through a rough and confusing patch whilst trying to get over someone I thought I truly loved. Turns out I didn’t (thank god) and yet Call me your name was almost like a shoulder to cry on. It’s a film that’s taught me to love and love hard but most importantly, not beat yourself up or try to distinguish the pain felt by true love. If you haven’t been fortunate to catch this beauty of a film, it follows two men, Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer) and their brief relationship in the summer of 1983 in Northern Italy. 17 year old Elio lives with his parents and his father (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a scholar who invites students from outside the country for the summer in hope of passing on his wisdom to them. This is when Oliver arrives, a handsome twenty something American who becomes the infatuation of Elio.

I’ll never forget the first time I heard the monologue that Elio’s father gave his son at the end, explaining to Elio why he shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the pain he felt after loving Oliver:

“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste”

That, ladies and gentlemen and all in between, is what love is.

Her. (2013)

Once again, another film about love that had a profound effect on me because of when I watched it. Her. follows the story of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and his search for a story using an A.I to help him write. However, after getting to know this A.I named Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) and hearing the way she adapts and shows emotions, he soon falls in love with it. Some may deem this as rather sad (which it is) but I think it speaks to bigger constructs like internet dating and letting go of people you loved thus diminishing the fantasy and world you created for the two of you. This part of the film got to me a stark way as I felt the pain of letting go of not only a person, but a fantasy, just like Theodore had to do in letting his past partners go. Her. is truly beautiful, with some great production design, cinematography and acting.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

The absolute queen of love stories would be Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a film about the romance between two women in the late 18th Century. Definitely not a narrative you see every day or one that’s been painted in such a way (pun intended). Marianne (Noémie Merlant) is commissioned to paint the beautiful and stubborn H��loïse (Adèle Haenel) and the portrait is to be gifted to a suitor of Héloïse’s from Milan. But instead of getting the painting done and sending it off, Marianne and Héloïse unexpectedly fall for one another at a subtle and well timed pace that had me gawping at the screen the entire way through. Slow, sensual and moving is Portrait of a Lady on Fire and I would definitely say is one of the best LGBTQ plus films ever made to date.

Broke Back Mountain (2005)

Ang Lee scooped up a BAFTA, Golden Globe and Oscar for his direction on his adapted screenplay of Brokeback Mountain. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) form a romantic bond after shepherding alone together on the side of a mountain. Once their time herding sheep comes to a close and they return back to their respective lives, it's clear that their bond is stronger than they had anticipated. They live in constant fear of their relationship becoming apparent to those around them, which leaves one of them taking matters into their own hands. A controversial yet extremely successful film of its time, Brokeback Mountain does a fabulous job of showcasing the consequences and despair of love using two of Hollywood’s finest actors.

Carol (2013)

It’s difficult to fully appreciate LGBTQ plus films set in the past as they mostly focus on the persecution of homosexuals as opposed to the love they wish to express. However, this was pretty accurate of the time and it's only very recently that we have begun to accept one another’s sexualities and genders fully so much that we play these stories out on screen without the persecution part. Carol is a film directed by Todd Haynes and stars Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett. I found them to be an extremely intense pairing whilst they unravelled as their characters on screen. Therese (Rooney Mara) works in the toy department of a department store when one day she lays eyes upon Carol Aird, a beautiful and elegant married woman who becomes the infatuation of Therese. Therese throws all caution to the wind in order to be closer to Carol and because of this and the 1950s society they live in, their relationship is doomed from the beginning. I was in complete awe of the way Carol had been shot and created into this sensual and rich drama set in the 1950s. From the costumes, to the lighting to the acting, everything about Carol held weight to it showcasing the devotion of a truly talented director.

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind (2004)

Usually I’d pass on a Charlie Kaufman film, seeing as they make no sense, however I felt that it was time I delved into this cult classic starring Kate Winslet, Jim Carrey, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo and Elijah Wood. It’s a really well made film with a clear and distinct message to it that’s represented in some phenomenal filmmaking techniques. The plot line of this film follows a man trying to erase a past lover and his memories of her get wiped away physically before your eyes on screen. It made me wish that I could do the same with people I’ve liked in the past, but the contradictory of this would be the trauma of eventually ending up with someone you had already met in another life. I haven’t experienced a break up nor felt the pain of one, though I could judge that this film tells that experience really well.

Moonlight (2016)

Moonlight is one of few films that I would genuinely worship if it were a religion. It's also one of the films that I outwardly shame people for not having seen, as it is truly a masterpiece and film lover’s film. Deep, emotionally connected, colourful, harsh, moving and eye opening, this film takes you on an emotional rollercoaster through the eyes of Chiron and the three stages of his life that have carved out his essence as a human being. Not only that, but he falls in love with another boy at his school, and when he does, he’s hurt rather badly. Literally. Moonlight is the definition of profundity and was awarded the top prize of Best Picture at the 2017 Academy Awards.

Loving (2016)

When I think of a truthful and honest testament of love, the film Loving comes to mind which is a fitting title for such a delicate yet strong story. The film is based on a true story of an interracial couple, Richard and Mildred (Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga) being banned from Virginia in the 1950s for choosing to be together. If that ain’t a true sacrifice of love, then I don’t know what is. Choosing someone you love over your own home is an unfathomable thing and certainly shows the strength that this couple had in facing the judgements of others whilst remaining emotionally truthful to themselves.

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Shape of Water is a strange yet enlightening love story between Eliza, a deaf woman (Sally Hawkins) and a creature being tested on in a laboratory. Awards season went mental for this back in 2018, winning four of the THIRTEEN Oscars it was nominated for. I would categorize it as quite the niche film and wouldn’t usually think that such a film could be garnered with Oscar success. However everyone who worked on this film really pulled out the stops in creating an entire new world and perspective that has many layers to it, as well as an abundance of conflict and dynamics for audiences to lull over. The relationship between Eliza and the feared swamp monster that’s being cruelly tested in the laboratories where she works, is heartfelt and honest, which is strange seeing as Eliza’s virtually in love with a monster. The casting in this was outlandish yet it really worked as all actors in this melded well into the story as their prospective characters. It also has one of the most touching endings to a film I’ve ever seen.

And there you have it, ten Romance films for you to enjoy this Valentine’s Day. Watch them all at once, or maybe just watch one. Whether you watch it alone or with someone, it doesn’t really matter!

Lots of love

Ang x

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful Stranger || Minghao

artist!minghao x f!reader

w.c: 4.5k

warnings: angst, fluff, its a little suggestive, self doubts

notes: In celebration of my baby’s birthday I did a thing and I’m not sorry. Happy Birthday Hao!!!

Enjoy and let me know your thoughts.xx

masterlist

Xu Minghao is a beautiful mystery that was often left unsolved.

He prefers it this way.

Minghao realizes this after his first heartbreak. Then again after his second heartbreak. After his third, he decides to give up. If love wasn’t in the cards for him then why should he bend over backwards to reach it?

When he reached his twenties and everything spiraled out of control way too fast for his liking. He painted like his life depended on it because realistically in his universe it did. He got around using people for his pleasure and then left them out in the cold just like it had been done to him. Minghao didn’t have time for love, nor did he want it. He reserved his love for his canvases, paintbrushes, and different colors of monochromatic paints.

Then he met you.

His monochromatic colors were replaced by the sweet strawberry pink of your lipstick. His paint brushes swirled around his canvases to the melody of your laughter. Before he knew it a piece of you had infiltrated all of his paintings. Whether it was the exact shade of blue from the shirt you wore that day or the sparkling gaze behind your eyes that resembled his night sky.

He had fallen for you, for the girl that visited the university gallery every Wednesday morning to sit in front of his atrocious paintings that were unfortunately displayed as part of his final project before graduation.

At first, he never said anything, just watched you from afar wondering what thoughts were running through your head as you admired. Did you think his paint stroke pattern was lacking? Did you think he should’ve chosen other colors? Did you think his choice in reds was too dramatic?

Whatever you were thinking, it drove him insane not knowing.

He would pace for minutes before entering the gallery every Wednesday morning. Sometimes he hoped you wouldn’t be there so he could judge his own paintings in silence. His wishes never came true, as none of them ever did but it didn’t hurt to try.

“Are you stalking me?” You asked one Monday morning. After your fourth visit, you had noticed him silently walking around the gallery, sneaking glances at you from the peripherals of your eyes. At first you had assumed he was an art enthusiast like you, and admired the artwork that was displayed. Then you caught him waiting for you outside of the gallery one morning, only entering a few minutes after you had. It could’ve been just a coincidence that morning, but when it started happening more often it scared you.

So you changed your visiting dates. Opting for every Monday instead of Wednesday an hour later than your usual time. It had gone smoothly for a week until he caught on and that’s where you were now.

“Hello,” You waved your hand in front of his face, his features paralyzed in shock only until he caught sight of your hand. “Are you stalking me?

Minghao shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “N-No, I-I um...these are my paintings.” He shrugs and signals with his head around the four paintings that haunted him day and night.

“So, you’re telling me you’re the The8?” You ask in disbelief as Minghao cringes. There were days when he regrets choosing that as his pseudonym. After all, he was eight when he created it after coming home from his first art lesson. But letting go of it would be letting go of that little boy whose dreams were bigger than his body and he couldn’t disappoint him especially not now.

“Just Minghao is fine.” He nods and takes his hands out of his pockets before drying them against his jeans. “Do you actually like my paintings?”

You scoff before rolling your eyes, “No I just like sitting here.” Minghao’s face falls causing you to let out a shy laugh before shoving his shoulder away playfully, “I’m playing with you I love them actually.”

“Why?”

“That’s a stupid question the The8.” Minghao rolls his eyes before breaking out into a smile as he waits for you to continue. “They’re not peaceful, in fact, I sometimes find them overwhelming to look at but they bring me peace.” Minghao’s cheeks have never felt hotter than before, his heart is palpitating at an uneven time. No one has ever described his painting the way you have and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

“That’s a stupid reason.”

Minghao is now painting nonstop

“When are you going to paint me like one of your French girls?” You ask, chin on his naked chest as you draw patterns against the ridges of his stomach. You have no artistic talent but you love creating invisible masterpieces against his skin. He’s the only one that can see them and he loves it.

“I don’t have any French girls.” He rolls his eyes before sitting up against your headboard and grabbing his discarded boxers and putting them on. “And that’s not the quote.”

“Alright Titanic enthusiast, let me live out my fantasy.” You joke and Minghao laughs as he lays back down bringing you along with him. You pout, “When are you going to paint me?”

“Who says I haven’t already?” He smirks down at you and captures your lips with his in a slow sensual kiss. You sigh against his lips and pull him close, “I think you’re lying.”

“Impossible lying is a sin and I am a child of God.”

“And here you are consummating outside of marriage, God is disappointed in you Hao.” You peck his lips one last time before sitting up. You stand up taking your sheets along with you. Minghao stays laying down on your bed like it was his very own. He watches you closely, taking in the way your skin glows against the light of the rising sun. The way your hips dip when they meet your thighs and he can’t wait to go home again to his canvas, monochromatic paints, and paintbrushes.

If he knew that meeting you would cure his unfortunate art disease he would’ve tried a little harder to find you.

Six months ago his mornings consisted of him rushing out of bed, getting dressed as fast as possible so he makes it to the university art gallery before you. Now his mornings consist of him rushing out of bed, getting dressed as fast as possible to bring you breakfast before you leave for your morning class.

Most days though, you end up pinning him against your front door before he could mutter a ‘good morning’ to you. He doesn’t complain though, he loves the way your body melts against his. Like you were made for him, and fuck he loves it so much he wants to die.

If he were to believe in soulmates he would think you were his.

Minghao’s parents find out.

When he went away for university Minghao lied and told his parents he was studying business communications. He wasn’t sure if they had believed him or if he didn’t care but he had spent four years studying art without their knowledge. He was living in a peaceful fantasy not sure when he’d have to wake up and tell his parents the truth. That their trust fund had gone to a degree where nothing was guaranteed.

He guesses that time is now.

Minghao and you have officially been dating for two months. And he decides to take you home for Christmas.

At first you had declined, told him that he should spend Christmas with his parents and that you were fine staying on campus alone until New Years. Your parents had gone on a couples retreat. It was needed they weren’t doing so hot for years now so you didn’t mind. Minghao on the other hand wouldn’t take no for an answer and that’s how you ended up with him hand in hand on the front door step of his childhood home.

“I should’ve stayed Hao, what if they don’t like me?” You practically yell at a low volume. Minghao rolls his eyes and brings your palm up to his lips. He leaves behind a reassuring kiss before ringing the doorbell again.

“It’s impossible to dislike you. By the end of the night they’ll probably like you a lot more than me.” He reassures bumping his shoulder against yours lightly. You stumble a little and Minghao pulls your hand to keep you from falling. His arm comes to your waist and he’s about to kiss you when the front door falls open. The two of you caught, the guilt rushing towards your faces as his parents stare back at the two of you with wide smiles.

“Don’t stand out there for too long, you'll catch a cold.” His mother's soft voice sounds and wraps around the warm porch light. They open the door further, Minghao’s grip on your hand gets tighter as he pulls you into his home. The warmth wraps around you like a protective blanket and you find yourself never wanting to leave.

For the remainder of the night until dinner Minghao doesn’t leave your side. His hand is on you at all times whether it’s on your arm, or appropriately placed against your back. His mother shows you around the small but big enough for their tiny family house, while his father finishes dinner in the kitchen. When the three of you reach Minghao’s childhood room you feel the tears brimming in your eyes.

His walls were covered with paintings he had made while growing up and seeing them displayed makes you feel proud. You see the improvement and growth in every single one as they’re sequenced by years. Your favorite one is the one he painted when he was thirteen. He notices you lingering on that one for longer than usual as his mother’s voice echoes off his navy blue walls. He never understood what it was about his art that made you forget the world around you, and you never once could explain why to him without changing the subject right away. He just hopes that one day he can get it out of you to understand your admiration.

“You like it?” Minghao whispers in your ear and it makes you jump. He chuckles as his arms find their way around your waist, the panic rushes through you at the speed of light.

“Minghao your mo-“

“Dad called her down to help, it’s just us right now.” He kisses your cheek and stays there before trailing soft kisses down your neck. He kisses it lightly, the goosebumps appearing against your arms. “This was a mistake I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

You go frigid against his chest, as he continues to kiss down your neck until it reaches your sweet spot. “W-Why?” You move your head to the side, giving him more room. He smirks, sucking the spot he’s memorized like it were his color theory notes.

“I’m immorally thinking of every single way I can have you falling apart while my parents are downstairs.”

“Dinner is ready!”

You should’ve kept your mouth shut, that was a problem you always had and it never resulted in anything good.

Somewhere in the midst of dinner you had briefly mentioned your love for Minghao’s artwork and how proud you were that his paintings were being displayed at the University gallery. But you hadn’t known that Minghao had lied and never told his parents what exactly he was studying.

“We’ve been paying for a useless degree?” His father forcefully drops the fork against his plate, a loud clang sounds through the small dining room.

“It’s not useless, it's what I love.” Minghao fights back and stands up, “This is why I didn’t tell you, I knew you wouldn’t approve.” He pushes in his chair, hitting the table making you and his mother jump.

“Of course we wouldn’t, you’re never going to get anywhere in life with an art degree. I didn’t raise you to be a lowlife artist.”

“You barely raised me at all.” Minghao tugs at his roots, he sends you a glare and leaves the room. The tension evident in the room and you don’t know if you should stay seated or follow him. When you hear the front door shut and you go with the latter.

“I-I’m sorry, dinner was amazing.” You stood up and pushed your chair in carefully. You knew you should’ve stayed home, but that was before when you feared his parents weren’t going to like you. Now you should’ve stayed home because your big mouth was always causing trouble.

You made your way around Minghao’s house as fast as you could and walked out forgetting about your coat and purse.

The bone chilling cold gives you whiplash as soon as you walk out. Your eyes land on Minghao, his foot tapping impatiently against the snow covered ground. He’s looking at head into the dead of the night while a cigarette burns in between his fingers. You knew he smoked but he had reassured you it wasn’t a problem and he only did it to relieve himself of all the unnecessary stress. He had stopped though, when you had become his stress reliever instead, but now you were the cause of his stress.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t know.” You hugged yourself in a poor attempt to keep yourself warm. Minghao scoffed and brought the white stick up to his lips. His eyes closing in pleasure as he takes a long drag. “If I had known I wouldn’t have sai-“

“Sometimes I wish you would just stay out of my business.” He huffed. He flicks his finished cigratte onto the ground and crushes it beneath his boot. “You had no business in telling them.” He sends you a glare and shakes his head in disappointment. You feel the tears start to well in the corner of your eyes and you dig your nails into your arms to keep yourself from letting them go.

“I didn’t know. What was I supposed to do?” You throw your hands up in the air. You were frustrated with the situation and upset with yourself. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go, but you always managed to ruin every good thing that came into your life. And this was no different.

“I don’t know, not say anything.”

“I just wanted to show them that I don’t care what you do because I’ll support you no matter what.” You sigh, a shiver goes through your spine as he stands up. You take a step back, the look in his eyes giving the bitter winter cold a run for its money.

“I don’t want it.”

Minghao misses you.

Since Christmas he hasn’t been able to paint anything. His mind keeps going back to the look of hurt on your face as soon as the words left his mouth. The tears that fell when you walked down the steps of his porch, shivering, out into the freezing cold. He didn’t run after you because he was afraid you finally saw him for who he was. Someone that was undeserving of your heart of gold. But he stayed and smoked two more cigarettes before walking into his childhood home.

Minghao hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks and tries to fill the void with his cigarettes, to let the poison smoke consume his entire body. Every time he finishes a pack in one sitting he feels even more disgust towards himself.

He wonders if he should call you and apologize for that night. His mind constantly tells him no while his heart continues to yearn for you. He misses your delicate touch burning his skin, he misses getting lost in your soft eyes. He misses your voice and how it sounds like a warm melody even when you’re upset. He misses you like crazy that he feels like he’s losing his life.

The blank canvas before him laughs at him, his constant frustration with himself grows as the night envelops his makeshift studio in his tiny apartment. He needs to paint. He needs one more painting before graduation, one more and he'll be out of the educational art cuffs. One more and he’ll be free to do whatever he wants. But he just can’t because all he sees is you, your hurt, the greyscale of his cigarette smoke and the bright light of his phone as his thumb hoovers over your contact name.

He almost lets himself cave in too. If it wasn’t for the soft knocks on his front door he would’ve finally called. He feels the blood go up to his ears as he realizes the time. No one in their right mind would show up at his front door at two in the morning. Unless it was you.

He lets his feet carry him towards his door. Minghao knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but had always been a hopeful kid no matter how many times his hope had been knocked down. He takes a deep breath, his long fingers wrapping around the door handle and he rips it open like a two day old band aid. Your tired eyes meet his miserable ones for the first time in three weeks and he feels like he can breathe again.

“I-I...um...come in.” He steps aside scratching the back of his neck. His hair was getting long again. He usually would’ve cut it by now, but you had once told him you loved how boyish it made him look. So he keeps it.

“I’m here to pick up my stuff.” You walk past him. Your oversized hoodie swallows you whole and he can’t help but want to feel your warmth against him. He stays put in his side of the room taking in your appearance, your hair was a different color, a lighter shade than the one he had last seen you in. He loves it. “Minghao my stuff please, I’m tired and want to go home.”

Minghao panics and he closes the space between the two of you, his arms find their way around you and pulls you close. “Don’t leave please, I’m a coward who’s scared and I lo-I-I’m just sorry for everything I know you deserve better than someone who’s never going to amount to anything but please for tonight don’t leave me alone. You can forget about me in the morning if you want, just not tonight please.” He begs into your neck.

Minghao has never once cried for another person, not during his first three heartbreaks, not when his dog died. But the thought of losing you forever shatters him and he finally allows himself to weep.

After the initial shock of having him close to you again after missing him for what seemed like years. You hug him back. His sobs take over the dead silence of the night as you hold him, smoothing out the wrinkles of his paint stained t-shirt. You missed him more than air and although you were still upset with him. The two of you still had many things to talk about, all you wanted to do was hold him the same way he’s held you during moments of pure vulnerability.

“I’ll stay.”

Minghao is in love and he doesn’t know how to tell you.

His paintings don’t hang in the university art gallery anymore. They’re locked away in the storage closet in his apartment. All of them collecting dust, except for two.

When the two of you graduated. The art gallery took down his paintings to display the incoming freshman’s artwork. You had gone with him for moral support as the two of you watched his most hated--your favorite paintings come down. It was a bittersweet moment for the two of you but you could tell it had affected him more than he led on.

“When I get my first paycheck I’ll buy one off you.” You whispered to him as he walked you back to your dorm room. Minghao stops dead in his tracks, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he grips his two largest canvases in his hands.

“Why would you do that?” He shakes his head before closing the distance between the two of you.

“Because I love your paintings idiot.” You roll your eyes and hold the small canvases you were holding against your chest. “And I love you.”

Minghao’s world stops. It freezes and goes blank. He swallows slowly to make sure he’s heard you right, and when he notices your shaking hands gripping his precious canvases he’s positive he has.

“No you don’t.” He blurts out before he can think and he sees the hurt flash across your perfect features signaling that he has fucked up. He doesn’t know how to handle your confession. Everyone he has ever loved laughs in his face and tells him he was an idiot for thinking they would ever feel anything for him. He almost waits for you to retreat your statement but when you don’t he feels his heart against his throat.

“Fuck, fine sorry I said anything.” You scoff and turn around, walking as fast as you could to create all the distance between the two of you. You knew you should’ve never confessed, you knew he would never feel the same way as you did. You were chaos, too much to handle, at times to clingy and not even that good of a fuck to keep a man. But there had been a little pocket of hope in you reserved for Minghao and sometimes he stared at you for longer than a person should stare at another. So you took your shot. Knowing you could have possibly read all the lingering touches and stares and blatantly obvious signs wrong. That you would end up in another heartbreak but you had really thought your subconscious had been wrong.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, girl.

Wait, wait, stop walking.” Minghao yells looking around frantically and setting his paintings against an isolated light post. He uses all the energy he has left in him and runs after you. His shoes forcefully stomping against the cracked pavement. Minghao’s mind is running at miles an hour and the only thing he can do is laugh because of how badly he wants to kiss you. Tell you you’ve been the sole owner of his heart ever since the first time he spotted you silently admiring his terrible paintings all those months ago and paint.

Is this really the life of an artist?

He’s an idiot, the biggest one on this planet but for the first time in his life, he’s determined to not let the best thing that has ever happened to him slip away.

You have no choice but to stop at the streetlight and Minghao catches up. His breathing is ragged, his fake glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose, and his hands are shaking from the adrenaline surging through his veins.

He places his hands against your shoulders making you jump, “Minghao forget I said anything it was a mis--.” His mouth is on yours before you could finish your sentence. His hands travel down your back and he pulls you closer, crushing his paintings in between your bodies.

“I love you too,”

Minghao is nervous.

The day he’s been looking forward to and dreading for the past three years has finally arrived. His nerves course through his body like shocks of electricity and he feels like throwing up. When he met you all those years ago, the only person who encouraged his unachieveable dream, in the stupid university gallery, he never once thought he would end up here.

“Baby, are you ready?” You peak your head into the green room, the dark shade of red adjourning your lips catches him off guard. His hands itching to grab the sketchbook and pack of pastels he kept in his bag for moments of random inspiration. He refrains when he remembers he has people waiting for him. People who have gone out of their way to come to see him, his paintings and the opening of his highly anticipated art gallery.

You walk in and close the door behind you. You stand in Minghao’s path and he stops pacing.“I can tell Jun to stall for a few more minutes. He has the crowd wrapped around his finger with his terrible jokes, I mean some of them aren’t that bad but still they aren’t good.” You put your hand against his cheek, your thumb soothing away the worry lines around his perfect mouth.

“How many people are out there?” He whispers and puts his forehead against yours. He thought his nerves were bad on his wedding day, but he’s sure this takes the cherry. He won’t tell you, even though he has a hunch that you already know.

“Last time Mingyu and your father updated me we had reached a few hundred.”

“A few hundred.” Minghao’s eyes grow wider than the moon, his nerves get worse. “I can’t go out there. What if they don’t like me?”

“Look at me Hao.” You place two fingers underneath his chin and raise it. His pupils are wide with uncertainty and you do everything in your power to keep yourself from laughing. Nothing was cuter than Minghao when he was nervous. “You always sell yourself short, these people fell in love with your paintings and I have no doubt in my mind that they’ll love you. I mean honey look at where we ended up.” You offer him a smile before leaning in to place a soft kiss against his plump lips.

“Yeah but that’s different. I was a nobody back then, no one had a preconceived notion of me then. I’m afraid these people might expect a broken artist with a smoking habit and that’s not me. At least not anymore.”

“Who cares what they might think of you, this isn’t about them. This is about you and your dream, don’t let the opinions of strangers ruin this for you.” You nod your head rubbing your thumb over his lips to get rid of the residue left behind by your liptstick. “If it makes you feel better I’m here and so are your parents and your friends. We’ll always support you baby.”

Minghao takes a deep breath and nods shyly. “Can you just hold me for a while. I want to be yours only for these last few minutes of freedom.”

“Minghao you’re making it sound like you’re selling your soul.” You giggle and fix the loose strands of hair that had fallen against his forehead.

“I’ll stay.”

Xu Minghao is a beautiful mystery that was often left unsolved.

Until you walked into his life and took your time to solve it.

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skarsgard-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Rules of Engagement

Description: In the adult section of a video store in Shreveport, Louisiana, Eric and Pam are baffled by the merchandise.

Note: Mild spoilers for Eric and Pam’s backstory. HUGE thanks to @stevesharrlngtons for helping me brainstorm. And to @grandpa-sweaters. Also, if you want to be tagged in my historical Eric and Pam stories and drabbles, do let me know. I am compiling a list.

Warnings: 18+, lots of sexual implications

Shreveport, 1986

The fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead as Eric and Pam paused at the bottom of the stairs to survey their new business. Rows of VHS tapes lined the walls just as they did in the room upstairs, except these ones seemed... off-brand. Pam's eyes, rimmed with thick black liner, landed on a case depicting a topless redhead who seemed to gasp as Freddy Krueger's bladed hand reached for her tits.

"Wet Dream on Elm Street," she read aloud.

Eric's footfalls echoed on the concrete floor while he circled the room. The pink light from the neon sign reading CLASSY CO-EDS threw strange shadows on his face.

"This is..." he began, but he couldn't find a word in any language glum enough to finish the sentence.

"Depressing?" Pam offered.

"Mm."

Sandwiched in the gap between Ghost Thrusters and The Sperminator was a display of cheap plastic sex toys of all shapes and sizes. Each one seemed stranger than the next.

Eric arched a skeptical brow. "What is all of this?" he asked. Whenever the vagaries of the modern world eluded him, he relied on his younger companion to explain.

She pressed her frosted lips together into an expression of disgust. “Cheap sex toys for lonely housewives and men who have never seen a real pair of tits,” she said, flicking a pair of rubber breasts that were attached to a dismembered torso with a hole in the bottom of it where a man could pleasure himself.

It was Eric’s turn to look repulsed. What kind of a man needed a contraption like that? He was pondering the question when Pam switched on a vibrator and glanced at him over her padded shoulders. “We had these in my time,” she said in a dry voice. “Doctors used them to cure women of hysteria.” A small smile played at her lips. “I had hysteria a lot.”

Eric tsked in mock disapproval, but he grinned a little as though secretly proud of his progeny’s deviousness. He picked up a red riding crop with a little silicone heart at the end of it and furrowed his brows. “What’s this supposed to be?” he asked, slapping the tip of it against his open palm. “A fly swatter?”

Pam took the crop from his hand and examined it herself. It made a satisfying whoosh as she swung it experimentally, smacking Eric’s arm just below where his black sleeve cut off to reveal his bicep. He didn’t even blink.

“That feels like nothing,” he said. “Hit me as hard as you can.”

The cold smile on Pam’s lips turned deadly. She drew her hand back and whipped him with the riding crop with all her might. There was a loud cracking sound, and the flimsy handle bent in half upon impact. Eric glanced down at his bicep, which bore no marks. “It’s like getting kissed by a mosquito,” he observed.

“What a shame,” Pam said, her flat tone masking her sincerity. “I liked having it in my hand.”

“I could tell.”

Above a glass case full of plastic dildos hung a movie poster for Little Shop of Whores. Pam was searching for the key to the cabinet on the keyring the Magister had thrown at her yesterday. She heard the ratcheting of handcuffs behind her and glanced back to see Eric tear a fuzzy pink pair in half like tissue paper. “You’re ruining the merchandise,” she remarked. The madam within her was always concerned with profit.

“It’s all so flimsy,” Eric said, tossing the ruined handcuffs aside. He glanced around the room, frowning at the low-quality of the items on display. “I know a blacksmith who can make real shackles.”

“I don’t think our human clientele would be interested in the real thing.” Pam’s heels clicked on the floor as she stooped to pick up after him. “They like the illusion of danger.”

Eric sighed. “How boring.”

Pam found the key to the cabinet and took out one of the plastic dildos, turning it over in her hands. Her maker looked at her as if she was handling dog excrement. “Do you remember that craftsman on Crete who made those exquisite hand-carved phalluses?” she asked wistfully.

“Hmm,” Eric hummed in approval. “We could sell those.”

“Somehow I doubt there’s anyone in Shreveport, Louisiana who would pay the asking price for one of his masterpieces.”

“I would not have expected anyone to pay good money for this—” Eric paused to hold up an inflatable doll with a suspicious looking hole in her mouth. “—yet here we are.”

Pam’s long eyelashes fluttered as she blinked several times in stunned silence. “Well...” she said, gathering herself. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

Eric discarded the doll and ran his fingers through his hair. He was amused, but tension pulled at the corner of his mouth, and Pam was suddenly acutely aware of the events that had brought them to this swampy hellhole. She knew he blamed himself both for their circumstances and the loss of his lover. She needed to keep him distracted.

“Can you guess what this is?” she asked, tossing a strap-on harness at him. He caught it instinctively and furrowed his brows as he studied it.

“I have a theory,” he offered with a chuckle. “I can see you’ve used one before, with your girlfriends.”

Pam’s lips curled into a smirk. “And with men,” she said. She took a step closer to him and raised her chin to look him in the eye. Eric lifted both brows in surprise, but the tension in his face melted away with his astonishment.

“Pamela, you surprise me,” he said. He sounded almost proud of her.

“Maybe we could try it sometime,” she added as calmly as if she were asking him to test out a new restaurant.

Eric scoffed. “What, with you wearing this?”

“You certainly don’t need it,” she said evenly.

Several expressions passed over his face before it settled into a mixture of confusion and arrogance. She folded her arms and considered him, puzzled by his reaction. In all the time they had been together, there had been many nights when he’d gone off with a man rather than a woman. Why did he balk now? A few tense moments passed before the realization hit her.

“You’ve never experienced the wonder of the male prostate, have you?” she asked, her voice devoid of judgement. Eric said nothing in reply, but the expression on his face told her that she was right. “Does it go against your Viking code,” Pam continued, “to be on the receiving end?"

"It was not..." Eric paused, searching for the right word. "...seemly."

"Since when do you care if something is 'seemly' or not?" Pam asked. It was the kind of question that could sound insolent, but her tone was mild and her eyes shined with encouragement, as if to say, come on, live a little.

Eric considered her words silently, his blue eyes calculating. "And this is something you would enjoy?"

"Oh, yes," Pam said with a deadly smile, her fangs suddenly appearing. "I would enjoy it very, very much. Almost as much as you."

A long pause stretched between them. Eric passed the harness back to her and cleared his throat. "Anything to make you happy."

@stevesharrlngtons @scxrsgxrd @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @hausofobsession @dreamtherapy @grandpa-sweaters @castiellawolfkissed

#eric northman #pam de beaufort #historical eric #historical pam #true blood #my writing

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project-rosewood-476 · 3 years ago

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House of Gold

Okay, so this is strictly fluff. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written for this AU and probably will be the most fluff you all will get for this.

This fic is based on the song House of Gold by Twentyone Pilots. I wanted to explore and explain the relationship between Tabby and her stepdad before everything went to shit. And I feel as though that song suits them.

"Kitty" is a nickname that she had for her stepdad when she was younger because her real dad and stepdad were both named Michael so to avoid confusion but she slowly dropped the nickname when she got older.

Summary: Tabby is six at the time and she is left home alone even though she's not supposed to be due to her mother's A+ parenting choices. When she's bored out of her mind she goes looking around for shit that she's not supposed to. But what happens when she takes a trip down memory lane and remembers all the good times she had before she was left all alone. Will it fill her with despair? or renew her sense of hope?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

The lonely six-year-old paced around her small apartment relentlessly. Being left home alone yet again, she was pretty bored. She was looking for something to do. She was tired of TV, books, and she wasn’t hungry, so that she couldn’t eat her boredom away. Not that there was much to eat in the house anyways. She couldn’t go outside alone because she didn’t know where anything was, and the outside world scared her. Usually, the person she would consider her dad would be here by now. He would have taken her to the park, play pretend, play fight, or colored with her. It’s boring playing by yourself. But since he wasn’t here for reasons unbeknownst to her for a year now, she was left with her own devices.

What do you do as a child who’s left home alone and bored out of your mind? You snoop around. Tabby went through the drawers in the kitchen. Maybe she could concoct something to eat if she looked hard enough or find something new to play with. She found nothing interesting. Nothing but silverware, junk mail, and odds and ends of a miscellaneous drawer that didn’t hold her attention for very long.

She walked down the narrow hallway, altogether skipping over her room since she knew everything that she had in her room. She went straight into her mom’s room. She took in her surroundings. She saw a couple of unfinished jigsaw puzzles on the floor. Sometimes her mother and her would try to finish them when her mom had the time. She saw the miniature wolf sculptures and figurines that her mother adores on her dresser. She went through her drawers to see if she found anything interesting or to remind her mom to do laundry if she saw that she didn’t have clothes in there. The good news is that her mom didn’t need to do laundry. The bad news was that she found nothing to hold her interest. She took one of her mom’s green work shirts and just inhaled her scent. It calmed her down and took her mind off of her boredom. She missed her mom a lot. Tabby decided to stay buried in her mom’s scent for a few minutes later before moving on.

Tabby decided to raid her mom’s closet at least help her organize that godawful mess in there. Her mother’s closet was on the same length as most middle school and high school lockers. She began to separate the piles of clothes from clean to dirty based on smell until she came across an old blue folder. Finally, something to cure her boredom. Tabby opened it up to have a look and couldn’t believe what she saw.

“So this is where he’s been hiding the stuff that I make for him while he’s been here,” she realized in thought as a couple of pictures, a few short stories, and a couple of fathers days cards that were still all in pristine condition. Even a couple of years later.

That brought a smile to her face and brought back memories.

A little girl four years of age was sitting on the floor, focusing intently on a drawing that she was making on the coffee table. An older man in his late 20’s plopped down onto the couch lazily as he looked over to what the girl was drawing.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked as he peered over.

“Remember the house by the candy shop that we always pass on our way to the park?” she asked, still not looking up from her drawing.

“The one that’s always on sale on hill street?”

“If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked, still not getting the picture

“Well, someday when I’m all grown up, I’m going to buy that house, and I’m taking you with me. It will be our house!” she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? What about your mother? Aren’t you going to bring her along too?” he asked, struggling to find the words to speak.

Tabby grew quiet and looked down.

“We all know with the lifestyle mommy is living, she won’t live very long. You’ll last longer,” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, a little disturbed at the child’s eeriness. But she wasn’t far off from the truth either. He was aware of the type of life and choices that her mother led and made. Some of them left him scratching his head, and a lot of the time, they made his blood boil. What kind of a mother would do that to her kid. Tabby was a lot more perceptive than what she’s given credit for. He knew that.

“Besides,” said Tabby bringing him out from his angry thoughts,” You’re my best friend. It would be weird to plan my future and not have you in it. It’s only natural that you would be a part of it.”

“You think that I’ll be around that long?” he asked, amused playing along with the girl’s plan.

“You’d said that you would be around forever, right?”

“Of course, kiddo I-I gave you my word,” he was taken aback by the fact that she took his promise so seriously.

“Okay then,” she went back to drawing.

“How do you think that you’ll pay for the house, huh?”

“I’ll get a job when I’m old enough to work, duh,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’d have to be 15 to work legally.”

She stopped to look at him in horror.

“But that’s so old.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at her concept of old age. It was so fascinating to listen to what the four-year-old thought of the world around her. Sometimes she had solid points and saw the world for what it is at its base. Simplistic and so full of good and hope. Other times her ideas were so bizarre that they showed just how innocent she was.

Tabby looked at him, confused. Had she said something funny?

“Oh, I’d hate to break it to ya, kid, but if you think 15 is old, then it would take even longer to save up money to buy the place.”

She looked at him even more confused.

“How hard can it be?”

He let out another hearty laugh.

“Oh, kiddo, you have no idea.”

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

Tabby took out one of her short stories that she wrote starring him as the hero and god that she saw him as. She worshipped him. She was rereading her work, a masterpiece at the time; now, she cringed at how godawful it was. However, she remembered beaming with pride when she handed him her finished product that she worked on for a month. It was the first story she ever wrote.

“Kitty, look! Look at what I made for you!” Tabby ran to him as soon as he walked out the door.

“What is it?” he asked as he kneeled to be on her level.

“I made you a story,” she said shyly as she handed it to him.

He was a little shocked at the gift. This was the first thing she’s ever given him. It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time.

“Will you read it?” she inquired excitedly.

“Sure, after I take my nap. Then I’m all yours, and we can talk about your story.”

“Awww,” she sounded dejected.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put it right beside me so that way it will be the first thing I’ll do when I wake up. Fair enough?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t happy with the compromise, but she took what she could get. She went back to play with her stuffed animals to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

However, he did not nap that day like he said he would. He spent his allotted two hours reading her story and just taking it in. She showed a lot of talent and promise with writing. Even with her limited vocabulary, she put so much passion and emotion behind what she was saying and trying to express that it was easy to get what she was saying. What moved him to the point of a few stray tears streaming down his face was how evident she thought so highly of him. She viewed him as a hero and thought he was a good person that he was better. It was so moving when he didn’t even think of himself like that. Knowing that someone out there in the living room loved him enough to see past that and had so much to give left him speechless.

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside-down.

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after, happily

Tabby was grinning from ear to ear, sitting on the floor, looking through her old drawings and stories she wrote for him that he still kept in pristine condition. She had a few stray tears from happiness leaking out, but she didn’t care. This was the closest she felt to him in a long while. She took out another picture. It was of her and her dad running through trees on some sort of adventure. There’s a story behind that one.

Tabby was drawing furiously at the kitchen table while her dad made her some spaghetti to eat for dinner. Her dad peered over her shoulder.

“I see that you’re overflowing with creative juices again. What are you drawing this time?”

“You and me we’re going on an adventure, but I can’t decide what the rest of the picture should be,” she said, frustrated.

“What about trees?” he suggested

“Like the woods?” she asked

“Yeah, like we’re going on a hike and camping. That’s an adventure, and we’ll come back when we’re done,” he said as he turned away to finish making dinner.

“Oh, I don’t want to come back,” said Tabby quickly as she went back to drawing.

He almost dropped the hot pot of boiling spaghetti at her statement.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” he asked slowly.

Tabby stayed quiet for a few minutes before slowly turning to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to stay with mommy?” she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“I- Uh- W-what makes you say that? Don’t you love mommy?” he didn’t know how to answer that.

She shook her head furiously, sending her long strands of black hair all over the place while moving her little hands in a ‘no’ motion “, No no, no, that’s not it at all! I do love mommy, I do! It’s just- she never listens to me. I tell her that I don’t like it when she brings home strangers, and she still does it anyway. I tell her that I don’t like it when she sleeps all day, but she does it anyway. If you love someone, then you would listen to them. It’s like I’m not here! I am unwanted and unloved, and I don’t belong!” she looked down as her bottom lip quivered like she was going to cry.

Oh boy, he didn’t know what to say or do. He bit off more than what he could chew. He was aware of her mother’s questionable life choices, but he never knew just how badly they affected Tabby. He gathered that they made her sad and lonely and neglected, but he never knew how deep her hurt ran. His burning hatred and anger at her mother quickly turned into heartbreak for the child in front of him.

He went back to plating her spaghetti and set it down in front of the sulking child. He petted her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He continued to do so until he noticed that she was feeling a little better to turn around and eat. Satisfied, he went back to plating his meal.

“You know for what it’s worth; I can promise you that the bad things are only temporary even if they don’t feel like it at times. If anyone can get out of this town when you’re old enough to, I have absolute faith that it would be you.”

“You think so?” she asked excitedly and hopefully.

He ruffled her hair.

“I know so.”

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

Tabby grew bored and put the pictures and clothes neatly back as best as she could and got up to explore the other rooms in the apartment. She went to the bathroom and opened up the cabinets to see what was in there. Her mother often told her not to look through the bathroom cabinets, but she wasn’t here to say no. Tabby concluded that if it were that bad, she would be given a sign that would tell her no. She found nothing of interest. Just chemicals that she knew better to play with and in the upper cabinet various cold medicines, band-aids, anti-bacterial ointment, nail clippers, the thermometer, her mother’s happy pills as she called them, and bandages. Tabby felt a twang of nostalgia that hurt her stomach when she looked at the bandages, and she knew why.

Tabby was sitting on the couch waiting for her dad to come back and babysit her. Where was he? Her mom said that he would be here in two hours. It’s been more than that. She jumped when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Tabby turned around quickly only to be greeted with the horrific sight of her dad staggering in, out of breath, bruised and bloodied.

“Oh my god, what happened?” asked Tabby, horrified as she ran towards him, tripping over her own feet.

“It’s nothing, honey. I just got into a fight; that’s all” He made his way to the kitchen and sat down in the chair as he grimaced.

“Well, we have to get you cleaned up,” she fretted, struggling to figure out what to do.

“Good Idea. Do you know what to do?” he asked

Tabby slowly shook her head no.

He sighed “, That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. First, get a cloth and wet it with warm soapy water. That will help clean off the blood and kill the bacteria.

“Got it,” she said as she ran into the bathroom to grab a dishcloth from the pile, put on some warm water and used hand soap, and rubbed it into the cloth to make it soapy. She came out waiting for further instructions.

“Good now, gently pat clean up all of the blood as best as you can, okay?” he sounded tired.

Tabby went slow and tried to be a gentle as she could with a few reminders. Laser focusing on the task at hand. His hands revealed minor cuts and shallow gashes.

“Is that good enough?”

“Yes, now go get the ointment. It should be in the upper cabinet in a blue and white packet in the bathroom.”

“On it,” she ran back to the back to the bathroom as fast as she could and grabbed her stepping stool that she uses to reach the sink to brush her teeth. She stood on her tiptoes on the chair to get the cabinet to open it. She looked for anything with blue and white packaging until she found the tiny ointment packets he was talking about. She grabbed a few and ran back out into the kitchen.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now open the packets and gently smear the ointment on just for extra precaution for infection.”

Tabby struggled to open it with her tiny hands, so she had help opening it. She spread the ointment all over his hands as gently as she could.

“Now what?”

“Now, I need you to go into the junk drawer and get two safety pins.”

“Okay,” she knew where the drawer was in the kitchen. She rummaged through to find what she thought were safety pins since she had no idea what they looked like. She pulled out a paper clip and showed it to him for confirmation.

“No, that’s a paper clip. Try again.”

She rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out a thumbtack.

“No, that’s a thumbtack try again,” he sounded exasperated.

Tabby whimpered and held her head down like a scolded puppy. She didn’t like how he sounded displeased with her. She rummaged deeper in the drawer and finally pulled out a safety pin,

“There we go!” he encouraged.

She pulled out another one and set them both on the table.

“Now go get those bandages in the upper cabinet. They are long and white.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom once more to grab the bandages and ran back out.

“Good, now wrap them around my hands,” he walked her through the process of doing that, and he put on the safety pins to hold the bandages in place himself.

Tabby grabbed his hands and kissed both of them. He jerked back in surprise and was a little taken aback by her actions. She looked just as confused as he was.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just kissing your boo-boos to make them feel better. That’s what mommy does with me. I thought it would work for you.”

He hugged her tightly and tried to choke back his tears at how sincere and pure she was. It was only then, when she calmed down enough that she realized that he stunk. Specifically of cheap whiskey and liquor. Tabby tried to push away and scrunched up her nose.

“You stink,” she complained bluntly.

He burst out laughing. “I suppose I do. I’ll tell you what, let me take a shower, and we’ll have a movie night, and I’ll let you stay up an hour past your bedtime.”

“Okay!” Tabby said excitedly with a giggle.

“As long as you don’t tell your mom.”

“My lips are sealed” she made a zipper mouth motion.

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

Tabby closed the bathroom cabinets and went back out to the living room. Right back to where she started. She stared out the window at the busy street down below. It became part of her daily routine to stare out the window and see if her dad was coming back. She didn’t know. It could be any day now. She hasn’t lost hope yet. She continued to stare, being lost in her thoughts.

“And the pirate kingdom of Aiwratha is saved from the mutant octopus by the rebel pirates!” she held her stick that she used as a sword up in the air in victory.

Tabby and her dad were currently at Maplehood park on the wooden play pirate ship in the middle of the playground section of the park. With Tabby as captain of the rebel pirate team and her dad as her first mate. Since no one else wanted to play with Tabby, they have played this multiple times with different storylines. Secretly they both never tired from it.

“We did it! We did it! We did it! We are the heroes!” he cheered as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we be? We are a team forever and always! Together nothing will get in our way! There’s nothing we can’t do!” she squirmed to be put down.

He took a minute to look at her eyes that were too big for her face. But they were so full of hope, adventure, optimism and had that bright lightning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world. He chuckled a little as he put her down and let her run free.

Maybe he didn’t do a bad job with her after all.

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Tabby sighed and rested her head on her thin arms on the window sill gloomily. She perked up when she saw somebody that looked like her dad. Only to sink back down when she realized that it was a false alarm. Here she was all alone. So much for his promise of sticking around forever. So much for a future with him in it. That dream is dead.

She slowly sat up with a confused realization.

What was she thinking?

Sure he wasn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be here until later, right? She recently discovered that dreams do die, but maybe just maybe, dreams can come back to life. Perhaps he will come back, and those dreams can soar again. Yes, that’s right! This train of thought filled her with renewed hope, and she was bouncing in her seat in eagerness. Sure she and her mother aren’t in a good place right now, but that would be her responsibility to bring them both out of this dark place. She believed that she was strong enough to do so. All she knew was that she had to fight to survive for herself and her mother alive long enough so when he does come back, they will be a family again, and her dad would be proud to see just how far she’s come. She’ll be a hero once again.

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

She didn’t have an exact plan to go about this, but she decided it would be best to start small with stuff she could do. First, she could clean up the apartment as best as she could. After all, she can’t have him come back to a dirty apartment. She was leaving the heavy-duty cleaning to her mom, such as chemical cleaning, laundry, and dishes since she didn’t know how to do any of that. However, she could pick up a little and sweep. She knows how to pick up after herself and has seen her mom sweep multiple times, so she has an idea of what she’s doing. She was too small for the real broom, so she would just use her pink kid one. She got to work right away.

She will do everything in her power to help him come home to her.

All for him.

#every rose has its thorn #erhit au #fanfic #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #tabbyanderson #tabby #house of gold #twenty øne piløts #send me requests #please flood my inbox #please and thank you

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silverryu25 · 4 years ago

Text

Hey, Santa Baby~ ;)

This was written for a raffle organized by @catsitta on tumblr (here is a link to the post if anyone wants to join! ends on Dec 30th). Since they said anything goes for the raffle I decided to do a smol fic (kinda? is 1k words considered a fic or a drabble? >.>) for some of their art UwU

And since tis’ the season we gotta go with a nice festive skele, right? So I picked this masterpiece! >:D

Under the cut cause of suggestive themes! ... what can I say, it’s Lust :P

A friend helped me pick who to pair Lust with! Hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Rust (bara UF!Sans / UL!Sans) Tw: suggestive dancing, swearing

And I apologize but I’m stealing the title cause it’s too perfect UwU

AO3 link

Before starting I apologize for any OOC from Lust, but I never wrote him and there isn’t a lot to read with him so I might get him wrong >.>

A Giftmas party. He was stuck in a fucking Giftmas party.

Red let out an annoyed sigh, downing another spiked mustard shot. If he was stuck here, he’d at least get properly hammered. It would make time pass faster and let him relax enough not to start a fight.

And boy did he wanna start a fight.

There were too many versions of him that were getting on his nerves. He wasn’t a patient monster, not since forever, and if he snapped it wouldn’t end well. Especially since he seemed to be the biggest Sans here, most of his counterparts barely chest height, with rare exceptions. He didn’t really get how that worked since they were basically the same person, but he didn’t care.

He wouldn’t even be here if he had a choice. Boss insisted so now he was stuck here. For a while. He couldn’t leave without taking Boss with him and who knows when he’d want to go back to their shity universe. He was planning something with alliances or some crap like that. Red didn’t really remember and didn’t care. He knew he should, but he just didn’t have it in him to care anymore.

It didn’t really matter.

Why would he care? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to fight for. Boss was stronger than him at this point, he could take care of himself. No one needed Red. He was more trouble than use, especially with his short temper and violent tendencies. And even if he wanted, he couldn’t find anyone who would care for him, not with those useless, scarred, ugly bones of his.

Being surrounded by undamaged, smaller and softer versions of himself wasn’t helping his mood. He could feel every scar that littered his bones itching. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of them, they proved he could survive a lot of crap. But seeing what he could have been-

Before his skull could spiral down that thole anymore, the lights suddenly turned off. Normally, he would have panicked, but he was way too sloshed to really care what happened. He did tense up, preparing for an attack in case it came, but otherwise didn’t move. Luckily for him, instead of an attack there was a flare of stage lights and loud music started playing. It sounded familiar, but his buzzed brain wasn’t processing things right so he wasn’t sure.

The stage was drowned in red and green lights, occasionally a purple and pink one playfully mixing in. It was hypnotizing, drawing his eyelights to the centre of the stage. After a few moments, the curtains lifted showing a row of monsters lined up on the stage.

Red didn’t even glance at them, his attention instantly landing in the centre. There, looking absolutely sinful, was a version of himself. But he was so unlike Red, he couldn’t believe they came from the same basic source.

The monster was gorgeous. His ecto body summoned, soft and supple. A soft purple, shining beautifully in the hypnotic lights. He was wearing a hot dumb Santa outfit that barely covered anything. Hell, it showed off his cures and made them look even more attractive. And boy did he have curves. His female ecto body was very well endowed, curves in all the right places. Red felt his fists squeeze thinking how soft that ecto would feel in his rough phalanges.

Red didn’t have a chance to explore that thought cause the monsters on the stage started dancing to the song. They were pretty good, earning cheers from the crowd, but Red had eyelights only for one monster. He didn’t even know his name, but he couldn’t look away. He was too buzzed to fight it so he just gave in. He leaned back on the bar behind him and looked at the show, tracking every move, dip, hip shake and turn.

The monster was a talented dancer, as if he was doing it for a long time. Red could tell he was having fun, every movement showing his joyful intent at the attention and cheers. The music changed every so often, seamlessly flowing, the dance going faster, then slower, then speeding up again to follow.

Somewhere in the middle Red could swear he caught the monster’s eyelights. It almost looked like they sparkled as they met his. He was ready to dismiss it but suddenly the way the purple skeleton danced became... more intense? Practically lustful?

Red wasn’t sure if he was seeing right, his brain didn’t work properly, so he might have been imagining things. But right at the end, as some obnoxious holiday song was playing, the dancers paused for a few moments, standing in a pose with one arm up on their heads and one leg lifted, the other arm straight down, shaking in rhythm with the song. All the dancers were smiling at the crowd, as far as Red could tell from the corner of his vision.

Only the purple skeleton monster turned his head pointedly in Red’s direction and, with a wide and inviting smile, mouthed the song line “hey, santa baby~” and... winked.

Red could feel his cheeks warm at that. He was blushing? Fucking hell no. No way. He wasn’t. Why would he blush at something as stupid as a wink? And it probably wasn’t even for him. It must have been for some monster standing between him and the stage. What the hell was wrong with him.

Thankfully, the song stopped and the dancers bowed than left the stage. With a sigh of relief, Red turned back to the bar, finally free from that hypnotizing monster light show. He ordered a few more shots, still feeling too sober do deal with... everything.

The drinks were taking forever, making his mood sour even more. Just before he was about to growl after the barkeep there was a soft touch on his elbow. With a scowl and a “wha’ da fuck do ya want?” ready on his teeth he turned towards the offender. And froze.

There was the purple skeleton monster, still wearing that adorable ridiculous outfit. Red stared, feeling his mouth turning dry. He couldn’t think straight enough to say anything, but he didn’t have to. The smaller skeleton, mercifully, took the lead.

“hey big bone, i’m lust.” He gave his name, followed by a smile and that same sinful wink. Red could feel that blush returning full fore.

Suddenly, he didn’t mind being stuck at this fucking Giftmas party.

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warsofasoiaf · 4 years ago

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I'd love to hear your thoughts about Cyberpunk 2077 when you are ready/have finished the game. Maybe besides the game itself you have an opinion about the crunch, bugs and general feeling of disappointment in a good portion of the fans

Sure thing. It’s going to be a long write-up and there are going to be spoilers, so you better believe that this is going to have a cut. Reader beware. For context, I have beat the game, and I played it on PC and only on PC.

I’ve been a fan of the cyberpunk genre for a long time. Transhuman and techno-utopian sci-fi always struck me the wrong way; that it was too optimistic and ignored a less savory element of human nature that simply would not go away with the advent of new technologies. While I only briefly dipped my toes in the water of the Cyberpunk tabletop game (I was always a bigger fan of Shadowrun), I did enjoy the genre and was eager to see a AAA cyberpunk game. I also really liked CD Projekt Red with what they did with RPG’s like the Witcher 3. Particularly when it came to the smaller sidequests, they really found a way to bring a lot of noir elements and hard-hitting character moments to the game, and I believed that it could translate very well into a cyberpunk game. After all, noir was a similar response to detective fiction to what the cyberpunk genre was to earlier elements of sci-fi. So I was quite optimistic when it came out. What we got was...well, it didn’t quite meet up with expectations.

There are some good things about the game. Assuming you have a beefy rig, PC cyberpunk looks pretty good. Not only does it look good, but it looks like the dismal 1980′s inspired future that had defined the genre, with its neon lights, omnipresent advertising to the point of satire (amphetamines are available from vending machines in a variety of flavors and commercials are completely ridiculous). The fixers are great examples of different cyberpunk archetypes like Regina Jones being a media or the Padre being an underclass civic leader looking to protect his community with a bit of a violent streak. Plenty of the characters had great personality, the nomads and Panam were enjoyable, Judy had a great questline that detailed optimism and bitter disappointment (and the character looks cool and is a bit of a cinnamon roll), River’s quest was a perfectly serviceable cop questline with enough horror elements, they were all fine. Keanu wasn’t a great voice actor, but he did serviceably and was apparently just wonderful with the staff, so I’m willing to cut him a pass. The level design can encourage a variety of different play styles, with attribute points opening up certain pathways. Given that it’s an open-world sandbox game, the goal should be to immerse yourself in the world, and touch on elements of cyberpunk as you go through the various quests, and you do see some of that. You see the gross exploitations of dolls in the sex trade when you go to Clouds, the bizarre elements of self-expression that new technologies can offer such as the twins in Kabuki, Pacifica is an abandoned recreation ground for the rich with the nice image of rotting Ferris wheels and abandoned malls, and you can see the divide between the have’s and have-not’s on full display both in the opening (compare and contrast the Street Kid with the Corpo beginnings) or take a look at the Peralez’s penthouse apartment versus Judy’s cramped digs. Honestly, one of my favorite things in the game were just the consumables to highlight the different food and drink available to the people of Night City. The heavy population means that foods like fried ants or locust pepperoni are common, amphetamines are available in a variety of flavors, and there are no less than 20 burrito vending machines on every street (the future is not all bad it seems). I like little worldbuilding moments like this in video games because it does give a sense of completion and immersion within the world. I honestly felt bad for Johnny Silverhand, because by the end of the game I had to be a bloated man-ball of Holobites Peach Pie and Cirrus Cola.

The game even took a few things that had aged poorly in the cyberpunk genre and improved them. The Mox is a gang specifically meant to stop the Disposable Sex Worker trope, it’s small and part of the reason it survives is that it’s small, but it offers a chance of improvement over the exploitation that the Tyger Claws offer. The cyberpyscho quest is probably the best one of this. Earlier Cyberpunk had cyberpsychosis as a serious concern directly correlated with how many implants you got. The Solo archetype even spoke about how you risk losing your humanity with your implants as you became stronger, better, faster. Even later iterations had depersonalization/derealization disorders as people who could see in the dark lost connection to those who couldn’t. A quick thought in our present though, changes this. My eyesight and hearing is just fine, but I don’t lose connection or common empathy with individuals who are blind or deaf. I have two arms and two legs and I have not lost empathy for amputees. Why then, would I lose empathy and connection with someone with average human eyesight after I get my eyes replaced and now I have the ability to see in the dark or have telescopic sight? The cyberpsycho quest actually took this concept to task; cyberpsychos around the city are seen as horrifying threats that need the high-threat response of MaxTac to deal with, but Regina is looking to see if she can cure cyberpsychosis. Mechanically, the cyberpsychos are boss-fights with elements of puzzle gameplay (how to handle the different skillsets that they have) and a bonus reward for non-lethal damage which rewards certain playstyle archetypes or prepwork for those who ensure that they have a non-lethal option. The information you find around each cyberpyscho showcase different problems in the target’s life, no real common thread or inciting incident that you can trace the onset of cyberpsychosis toward and identify a culprit. After you complete the quest, you learn the twist: there is no such thing as cyberpsychosis. Each of the targets were actually just experiencing different stressors within their lives, such as PTSD, losing their job, drug abuse, etc. and the breakdown is made much worse because these individuals have the ability to toss dumpsters like they were baseballs or pick the wings off a fly with a cybernetically enhanced brain with a .50 cal. Some of these individuals had terrible implant surgery done by bargain-basement ripperdocs and temporarily lost the ability to discern reality from fantasy, something that could easily be seen as a science fiction adaptation of temporary insanity brought on by a poor reaction to medicine. It’s backed up by the game too. V can fill every slot in their cyberware deck but never once experiences cyberpsychosis. Oda has ultra-legs and flaming-hot mantis blades and is in perfect control at every point in the game, even when he’s trying to jab those mantis blade through your sternum. Cyberpyschosis isn’t real, the irresponsible media just ran with it because fear sells. For all the flaws of the game, I respect the game for taking cyberpsychosis in that direction.

But for all those good things, the game couldn’t help but feel shallower than the Witcher 3. The side-gigs were formulaic to the point where they even led with a category. There were few twists and very little that was surprising. Exposition for these quests was limited to a short text dump and a minute voice-over. Night City was big but it was relatively sparse. NCPD never seemed to intervene in any crimes (giving the character the chance to do so) but every so often they were around a taped-off crime scene, giving a sense of inconsistency that hampered the world. While it was a bustling city, it felt empty, most of the people I saw on the street were meaningless, just NPC’s walking around to give a sense of activity. There was little in the way of things to see and experience that was unique or different about these NPC’s. They weren’t crowds I could hide in like Hitman, they didn’t have ambient dialogue that showcased something like the Witcher 3. Much like other open-world games, this sense of shallowness pervaded much of the empty space of the world; it was incredibly *big* but there was little in it. Much of the time I was driving or running through empty space that was completely worthless to me. Normal for city living, but all of that is wasted time going from point A to point B, and unlike the Witcher 3, there were no small in-game beats to help flesh it out or build it. I never had Millie from “Where the Wolf and Cat Play” give me a little picture, I never had people from a liberated village say “hey, look, it’s that guy Geralt, thanks for killing those harpies.” These were things that made the Witcher 3′s world really come alive. I didn’t have that, and I was left

Of course, we also have to handle the elephant in the room, and that was CDPR’s conduct both during production and after release. Crunch has become an increasingly common part of video game development and it’s not healthy to developers. CDPR had been called out on it once before, but it seemed there was little change in how that happens. I’m not quite sure if there’s anything we can do, and I’m sympathetic to the need to hit target deadlines to actually deliver a finished product, but there’s got to be a better way, whether that’s a change to the incentive structure, or something, because it’s hurting folks. I like games like Witcher 3 and Red Dead Redemption 2, but I understand that there was a real human cost to these masterpieces, and I wonder if there’s something we can do about that.

Similarly, what happened after launch was beyond terrible. The last-gen console version were simply not ready for release and shouldn’t have been released to the public. CDPR openly covered up this, by only previewing the PC version, they hid the fact that the game wasn’t ready, and they avoided delaying the last-gen console version because they were looking to capitalize on holiday sales. I’m sympathetic for the need to generate sales, but the flip of this is that you have to deliver the product you advertise, and for last-gen consoles, they didn’t do so. Bugs are one thing, these games are massive undertakings of interacting systems and bugs are inevitable; some of my favorite games were buggy at release, notably Fallout: New Vegas, Witcher 3, and so on. But this went past bugs and into malpractice and deception, and that’s something that’s less forgivable. I personally had few bugs that were out-and-out game breaking but things not loading, quests bugging out, floating bags and other physics wonkiness, all of that hurt the immersion. I’d be more willing to forgive the game without the deception; I can laugh at bugs but not at ignoring quality control to get holiday sales instead of delivering a quality product. Consumers are angry at CDPR and have every reason to be, and I’m one of them. I can express my disappointment and I will do so, we need developers to stop these practices and the only way we can do that is through our wallets and words. I’m not going to tell anyone not to buy CDPR games, that’s entirely your decision because I’m a radical individualist. But I am going to say that they’ve burned a lot of their good karma with me; credibility is a hard beast to gain back. Much like other big name developers, CDPR has hurt their standing in my eyes. Whether that means I need to resort to going to indie games for a little bit or something else, I don’t know, but it’s rough. I liked CDPR and wanted to believe it’d be different, but it seems to not be the case.

Overall, I think it’s another AAA open-world game only made better by my love of the genre, and that stings. I enjoyed some aspects of it, and I hope that through Free DLC, patching, and other good deeds, the game can redeem itself and stimulate new love of the genre. But CDPR needs to do a lot more than that to win back my affection. If anyone has anything specifically that they want to know about the game, such as talk about the main story, individual characters, or so on, just ask.

Thanks for the question, Khef.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#video game reviews #cyberpunk 2077

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thdorkmagnet · 3 years ago

Text

Light of the Sun and Stars Chapter 46: A Mewman and a Monster (Preview)

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: Slime has asked his crush Princess Penelope Spiderbite out on a date and needing support, both emotionally and literally, calls upon Star and Marco for help. The two graciously lend a hand in helping create the most romantic date possible but, as usual, things rarely go the way they want it too.

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Index

The dimension was completely lifeless. Once a sprawling community had dwelled there, setting up residence in its green pastures and lush landscapes, living a simple and basic life amongst the natural resources all around them. But that peaceful lifestyle had changed when technology was first introduced to the humble society. At first it had been small changes, as it always started, machines and many mechanisms made to help make life easier. Need to plow the fields? Build a machine that could do it half the time you could.

Soon people were using machines for every part of their everyday life and with the invention of robotic helpers… everything changed. Their once grassy hills were torn up to make factories, their land broken and scarred for the sake of 'progress'. Soon their dimension more closely resembled a machine than a once thriving, living place. And the numbers of robots steadily grew, until they outnumbered all living beings 10 to 1.

Sunlight was blocked by heavy smog while frequent and heavy storms began to tear apart what was left of the landscape. The dimension became virtually unlivable and the people were filled with dismay.

That was until a mysterious benefactor appeared one day, offering to buy up the remaining usable land for unknown reasons. The people happily accepted the offer, using the money to relocate to a new dimension (hopefully with better luck than the last), leaving the new owner of the dimension to do with it however they wished. Soon they began construction on a single building, employing the many robots that still inhabited the place to the effort. It took a long time, even with beings that didn’t have the need to eat nor sleep at the head of construction, but eventually it was finished, a single living place in the dimension of dead architecture.

The place was a sight to behold: a clean, cut courtyard leading up to a grand, multi-story building. The architecture was ancient, borrowed from famous castles and cathedrals throughout the multiverse, a sharp contrast to the sleek, modern buildings the dimension had been so known for.

But for as magnificent as it seemed, there was something sinister as well, something dark lurking just behind the smoothly cut stones or grand balconies. A large metal fence had been built around the building, electrified at all times to deter anyone from entering or exiting through anything but the gate. A large tower stood above the building itself, pulsing with some dark magic that had been lost to time long ago. The building's architecture was full of sharp edges and spikes that could seriously harm anyone who was not weary of their surroundings. And though the grand double doors were made of the finest wood in any dimension, they opened onto halls of endless turns and deadends, a labyrinth built to keep everyone trapped inside forever.

But the creator of this school did not care how others viewed it, because this place was serving a grand purpose, educating and enforcing positive change on the future monarchs of the multiverse. St. Olga’s Reform School for Wayward Princesses was a school like no other, standing superior to any other education system that dared to compete with it, for it was focused solely on punishment and strict results. Every young princess that was sent there, no matter how rebellious or resistant they were, would eventually be broken. It didn’t matter if it took days, weeks, or years, St. O’s and its founder and principal, Heinous , had a perfect record that had never once been broken.

That was until a certain four-armed princess blew the whistle on the academy's “less than reputable” penalties and the school was shut down by the dimensional knights. The great Miss Heinous was forced on the run, leaving every part of her life, her career, her home, her minions, her legacy, to rot. She spent years on the run, just barely managing to stay one step ahead of the dimensional knights and any other form of military power a noble might hire to capture or kill her. But through it all, Heinous only had one thought that kept her going day in and day out. Revenge. Or rather, her legacy finally fulfilled. She often confused the two but it didn’t matter. The path was the same. The path to ultimate victory and control. The path of perfection.

And that path had led back to where it all began.

Nostalgia and old memories came flooding back to the once-proud principal as she stood in front of her old, decaying school. She could still picture it back in the prime of its life, see it as clear as if it were standing in the memory itself rather than the broken dream that stared back at her. Reality was far from the picture perfect days of old. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

Her once proud school was now in desperate need of repairs, walls caved in over the course of time, entire sections of the school now gone. The courtyard was now filled with untamed weeds and overgrown plant life. The tower that had once stood as a beacon of power for her school had been the first thing taken down by those pesky knights and it lay in shambles around the area, an ever present reminder of the injustice Heinous had suffered. The fence was bent and disfigured, was now full of giant, gaping holes in its structure making it completely useless, now it couldn’t even keep out the gust of wind that blew through the empty courtyard. The school had become nothing but an empty shell that had once housed life within it. Heinous couldn’t help but scoff at the irony, her greatest masterpiece was now no different to the rest of this forgotten waste of a dimension.

She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. No, she couldn’t start dwelling on all that now. She had come here for more than just reliving her past failures. Today was about seizing her future. A small cough behind her caused Heinous to roll her eyes. She had almost forgotten her hired hand had come with her, just in case some dimensional knights were lurking there and needed to be disposed of. It was clear that Rasticore, unlike her, was less than content with her dimension. She could practically feel Rasticore’s discomfort as he shifted from one foot to the other, over and over again. It was obvious he wanted to get this over with, something at least they could agree on, Heinous was ready to achieve the next step of her decade-long scheme.

“So are we going inside or not?” Rasticore finally asked and Heinous turned back to him with a narrowed glare.

“Why? Don’t tell me you are frightened of my school?” she accused him, point blank.

Rasticore tensed, before gritting his fangs, clearly holding back the retort. Instead he replied, “No, just all this smog is aggravating my condition.” He then made a point to cough into his claw.

Heinous highly doubted that was the reason for his rush. Not when it was more likely her minion was playing up his sickness to hide his discomfort from her. After all, he was recovering remarkably well from the poison, ready to resume his work in just a few short weeks, so a little foul air shouldn’t be upsetting him as much as he was pretending it was.

Still, she didn’t see any reason to delay things any further so Heinous just turned to her minion and said, “Very well, follow me.”

Entering into her old home was like walking into a portrait in time, everything left exactly as she remembered it. The knights must have left things the same for evidence reasons but Heinous ws surprised her school was still mostly intact. A few rooms had been caved in or hallways blocked and everything certainly needed a good dusting but from the view outside she had been expecting much worse. Paper and pencils lay on the dusty desks, ready to use, as if some child had just set them down and then vanished from this dimension. The banners holding old phrases and mottos Heinous would often repeat in classes were decaying but still hung up even after all these years. The only thing missing was her beloved robotic staff.

Shortly after her escape she had gotten word that all robots operating under her name had been discontinued and dismantled to “prevent further harm” as they had put it. Ha, as if her precious staff could be so cruel, every punishment was fully justified and all for the greater good. If only the royals of the multiverse had seen it that way. “Cruel and unnecessary” they had called it. Hypocrites! They were always happy with the results, even quick to praise her or offer her large sums of money as thanks, but the moment they knew how their beloved child came to be cured of their faults suddenly she was the villain, torturing their bratty children by making them perfect.

Well if they were too stupid and cowardly to see her perfect vision all the way through, then it was up to her to fix this miserable, chaotic world.

Heinous entered into her old office, staring at it with wistful eyes as memories came flooding back to her all over again. Every detail of the small space was exactly as she had remembered it, not a single stone out of place, even after all these years. She ran her hands across her desk, her fingers brushing the loose pieces of paper she had been reading through when the alarm had sounded. Old student files and report cards now yellowed with age and beyond salvaging Heinous could have read them with ease, every single letter saved to her subconscious.

Rasticore stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching as his temporary boss reminisced her old life. It was shocking in all honesty, the lizard assassin hadn’t even known Heinous had a smile that wasn’t sinister but she seemed… almost genuine now. That was until she came across a certain file and the peaceful look switched to a frown, the spell she was under was broken. She picked up the piece of paper, ripping it to shreds in a matter of seconds. Rasticore jumped but didn’t say a word as his boss fell deeper and deeper into a blind rage, picking up several other files and ripping them apart as well. Soon the room was coated in paper shreds and the desk was empty. Rasticore risked a look at what remained of the original file, surprised to see it was a young curly haired princess with four arms. He couldn't imagine what she had done to invoke such fire from the level-headed woman.

Once the temper tantrum was over, Heinous straightened her clothes and smoothed down her hair, making herself look presentable again before turning to her minion. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?” she said as if nothing had even happened. She reached her hand into one of the many pockets that lined her oversized dress and pulled out a small key covered in intricate carvings. Without a word she shoved the desk to the side, Rasticore taken aback by the sudden show of strength. He certainly hadn’t expected it from such a petite woman.

Heinous bent down and inserted the key into a small slot in the ground and turned it with a click. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet collapsed and a long spiral staircase stretching into the darkness beneath was revealed. Heinous returned the key to her pocket before looking at Rasticore expectantly, much to his confusion. He had been caught off guard thanks to the multiple, unexpected turns this trip had taken and couldn’t for the life of him figure out what she was wanting. Her sharp eyes dug into his skin before she impatiently snapped, “Well? You are the one with the light.”

Rasticore could slap himself for being so stupid and he quickly pulled the lantern out from behind his cloak, already brightly lit by phoenix embers. Without a word he started down the stairs, practically feeling Heinous roll her eyes behind his back and he had to clench his claw so tightly a few trickles of blood formed on his leathery skin. For not the first time, Rasticore seriously debated on just how bad a reputation he would get for killing his employer in cold blood. The lizard assassin cursed himself for his integrity as a killer for hire, every other job had been so easy but this one was really testing just how far he was willing to go for his reputation. He probably would have quit entirely if he weren’t for those stupid brats that eluded him mulitple times. Every attempt he made to take that worthless Princess Star resulted in complete and utter failure and the humiliation ate away at him almost as much as his anger. So if having to endure Heinous a little longer meant seeing the looks on those brats' faces when they finally got what was coming to them… well Rasticore wouldn’t miss that for the world.

Rasticore smiled, imagining the faces of Butterfly and her friends when they realized they had lost and that brought a new fire back to his soul, descending the staircase with a new vigor. The lizard got a good look at his surroundings, his night vision easily spotting what it was they were down there for: robots. Dozens of them, old and rusted over to the point Rasticore questioned if they would even activate. He looked back at his boss, who was eying the robots with a glimmer of dark ambition, not at all concerned about their obvious defectiveness.

“Thought all your robots were dismantled,” Rasticore questioned suspiciously.

Heinous shook her head. “That’s just what you would think,” the woman replied in a condescending tone. “And I knew those idiot knights would believe the same thing, hence why I had these hidden away in case I was ever found out. Imagine it, they all believed they had beaten me and yet my true power was right under their nose all along.”

“Well that explains their poor condition,” Rasticore mumbled to himself, low enough he knew Heinous couldn’t hear him.

The two reached the bottom of the staircase and Heinous began inspecting her machines closely, running her gloved fingers along their metal casings and grimacing at the layer of dirt left behind. “The truth is those robots from my time as principal were simple worker drones, but these, my dear Rasticore, are my army.”

“So you had these things hidden away this whole time and you never thought to use them before now?” Rasticore asked in a deadpan, trying to hold back his rising anger. If she had an army this whole time, why bother hiring him for her dirty work? How much time had he wasted fulfilling her goals when she could have just as easily sent a robot to do it.

“Of course I did,” Heinous replied with quite a bit of malice. “They were my plan from the beginning. I just had to wait for the right time to use them.”

“And only after I’ve been poisoned for your little mission do you suddenly decide it’s the ‘right time’,” the lizard Monster grunted, doing air-quotes for emphasis.

“Hold your tongue!” Heinous snapped, her voice echoing around the dark chamber. The two stared each other down, neither breaking eye contact for even a second. “You cannot possibly comprehend the amount of time and planning I put into this,” she continued, spitting every word violently at her minion. “I spent years concocting the perfect scheme to take back everything I lost, to regain control and create a perfect world order. And yet you dare to believe I would overlook something so carelessly. No. Everything has been planned out.” The woman turned her back to the assassin, stating smugly, “In a scheme like this, timing is everything, my dear Rasticore.”

She approached the nearest robot, wiping the dust off its metal surface, pulling out the same key from before and examining it closely. “And the time has finally come for the next phase of my master plan,” she whispered decisively. With that she rammed the key into the center of the robot’s chest, causing its eyes to blink open and light up red. Heinous took a step back as the machine slowly rose to its feet, creaking and groaning loudly, its rusted body protesting greatly. Branches that had formed around its hollow shell snapped and broke as it pushed itself upward with great strength. Finally, the machine was up, standing tall and at attention, its red eyes blinking as it waited for new orders, somehow menacing despite its deteriorating body.

Rasticore took a step towards the robot body, still eyeing it skeptically but didn’t see a point in arguing, if his boss wanted to gamble all their plans on some old, dumb robot then she could deal with the consequences. It wasn’t his problem if her plan failed, so long as he got paid. “So what, we send this hunk of junk after the Butterfly brat and finally be done with her.” He had to admit the idea of a robot taking her down instead of him left a sour taste in his mouth.

Heinous admired her machine with a satisfactory smile, her hands delicately running along its frame. “Patience, Rasticore, patience. Star Butterfly will receive her punishment in due time. But for now she is too highly guarded to risk an attack on her. We must tread carefully from here on out, no more half-witted schemes, we must deal with her delicately or all of this will be in vain.”

Rasticore grit his teeth at the small insult but kept his calm, extended time with Heinous had really helped him with his temper, the one good thing he could say about being stuck with the snooty, high-and-mighty ex-principal herself. “So who are we targeting?” Rasticore asked impatiently. “I thought the whole point of this field trip was so you could get your hands on Butterfly. You yourself said you needed a Mewman for-”

“And I what I said still holds true,” Heinous interrupted, turning to her minion with a very evil expression. “Which is why we will be targeting another old student of mine, one who is much less guarded and much more obtainable.” A dark look passed over Heinous’ face as she thought of one of her oldest and most successful students, just speaking her name again filled her with a satisfaction and pride Heinous had almost forgotten about. “Princess Penelope Spiderbite.”

#star vs #star vs AU #Light of the Sun and Stars #Preview #Starco #Spiderslime

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callmemythicalminx · 4 years ago

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The Last Of Us 2: We Need To Talk About It

*Spoilers ~ ye have been warned!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve held this off for as long as I could, but I’ve given up resisting- we need to talk about The Last of Us 2. It’s an incredible masterpiece, there’s no doubt about it. The graphics are beautiful and incredibly realistic, and the gameplay has made bounding leaps in progress since the first game, offering a more exciting and intense experience for the player. The actors have of course done incredible jobs and the sound design is amazing. Altogether, a pretty amazing game… Except for one thing- the story.

The first game was widely loved for many reasons, but most prominently, and I’m sure many will agree with me on this, the story and the characters are what made it stand out and still hold up to this day. Joel and Ellie are amazing characters, incredibly complicated and realistic. The former was a man we as players grew to love, after seeing the horrible pain he had to go through and the hardships he faced. We saw him do unspeakable things, hurting and killing many, all in the name of survival. But still, we cared for him, because we saw him grow to love too, risking all to keep his new daughter safe. Ellie was a young kid, forced to grow up too soon in a world that didn’t really care about her. Faced with the fact that she was the possible saviour of humanity, she had the weight of a brighter future on her shoulders. In each other, these two characters found someone to care about again. Joel saw the daughter he lost and couldn’t protect. Ellie saw a father who wouldn’t leave and would help keep her safe.

After seeing the bittersweet ending of the first game, we waited for 7 long years to see Ellie and Joel return to our screens once more. Trailers promised new adventures with the pair, as well as the much-anticipated impact of Joel’s actions after taking Ellie from the Fireflies and stopping the creation of a possible cure. Even when leaks about the story were released, the majority of fans held strong to the belief that Naughty Dog would lead us well and would give us a great sequel to finish off an incredible generation of progress, leading us into a new age of video game storytelling.

Oh, how wrong we were…

Make no mistake here- I know Joel isn’t a hero. What he did at the end of the first game was incredibly selfish. I’ve always seen him as an anti-hero because of his sometimes cruel and violent actions and that can’t be forgotten. Undeniably though, he is still such a beloved character, who we can’t help but connect too because he’s human and vastly complicated. He was also living in a world where people are doing much worse things to survive. Darker, more evil actions that weren’t close to anything Joel ever did. Can he really be blamed for some of his actions, when seeing what other surivors had done? When I first played The Last of Us, I couldn’t help but sympathise with him, especially as I saw him slowly become more caring again after meeting Ellie. He’s incredibly interesting too in terms of characterisation because he’s neither good nor evil- he’s just human, trying to survive in a nightmare world.

Obviously, playing as Joel made a world of difference as to how we perceived him and whether or not he was a hero or villain. If we’d been playing as a completely different character, perhaps a Firefly, we would have most definitely seen him in a different light. This is where Abby comes in. I’ll give Naughty Dog credit here, it is a really interesting concept to introduce a playable character who’s seen the other side of our famous duo’s actions. It’s a great way to make us think even more about the consequences and the effect we have on our environment. As the daughter of the lead surgeon meant to operate on Ellie, Abby has seen the negative effects of Joel’s actions first hand. This opens up a widely explorable concept for the player to experience, offering a new complicated character who has seen her own pain and hardships just like Joel and Ellie did. She’s sure to be liked… Right?

Unfortunately, no.

In the span of two weeks, Abby has become one of the most hated gaming characters of all time. The reason why- bad storytelling.

I understand what the game was trying to do, I really do. I see what the story was trying to tell and portray, but the writing and pacing ruined this before the game had barely even started. I know I can speak for most when I say that I was expecting Joel to die, either it be naturally or inflicted by someone (or something) else. Naughty Dog know how to tug players’ heartstrings, as we saw at the start of the first game when Sarah was killed. It was bound to happen, though I didn’t really want it to. Joel deserves a worthy death, one befitting of his character which would complete his arc and bring a conclusion to his story. What we got instead was single-handedly one of the worst character deaths ever presented in a video game.

Joel dies at the hands of Abby, less than 2 hours into the game after we’ve seen him for only 10 minutes or so. He and his brother Tommy willingly walk into a very suspicious situation, in the most stupidly uncharacteristic way, revealing their names and where they’re from. They say this to a group of 10-20 strangers, in a building where they can easily be ambushed and restrained. Abby is at the helm of this group, driven to Jackson for one thing- the need to avenge her father who Joel killed. After hearing who they are, the group is obviously more alert and ready to strike. Joel then says, and I quote ‘Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or something’… Bear in mind here, that our Joel from the first game knew he was a wanted man and that he couldn’t trust anyone. Hell, he didn’t even trust Ellie for a good while before he started to care for her. But here he willingly gives his name and acts shocked when it’s recognised? This is not the Joel we know, who’s incredibly smart and can see a trap a mile off.

In one of the most sickening occurrences I’ve ever seen in a video game, Abby then shoots Joel in the knee with a goddamn shotgun. Tommy, of course, jumps into action to help his brother but is quickly restrained and knocked out. While listening to Joel’s horrific groans of pain as he lays wounded on the floor, Abby then has the audacity to ask him to ‘Guess’ who she is? Other than the fact that this is incredibly cringy, there’s no way in hell Joel would have the faintest clue who she is. He doesn’t run a family check on everyone he kills, does he? She could be the daughter of a random soldier he killed or some other nobody.

Ever a badass till the end, still having no clue who she is, Joel tells Abby to get on with whatever she has planned. She gets someone to tourniquet his leg while she collects her weapon to end his life- a golf club of all things. After calling him a ‘stupid old man’, something that both upset and pissed me off too much, Abby then begins to start beating Joel to death. You play as Ellie now, as she tries to find him. She enters this group’s hideout to see her father hunched on the ground, curling in on himself, spasming because of numerous brutal hits he’s received to his head. His face is bloody and bruised, his eyes barely open as a pool of blood spreads around him. We feel the horrendous pain Ellie does as she’s quickly restrained and forced to watch Joel meet his death. She begs, rambling for him to get up and leave, but there’s nothing she can do. Ellie’s horrified cries are ignored as she begs for mercy and with a sickening crunch, Joel receives one final brutal blow to the head.

And he’s gone. Like that.

If this was written true to the character we know and love, Joel would have never entered that building and given his name that easily. Neither would’ve Tommy. These are two seasoned veterans of a zombie outbreak, who have seen the horrid measures people will go to when provoked or desperate. Is the game really trying to tell me that they’d trust a bunch of suspicious-looking kids, walking willingly into a crowded area with no weapons, standing apart instead of together? Joel didn’t trust anyone in the first game, why would this change?

Regardless of the fact that he’s in Jackson now, which is ‘friendly to travellers’, and that he’s grown ‘softer’, he’s still not gonna be trustworthy of strangers. By and by, Joel is still a wanted man and he knows this, he took away the world’s chance at a cure for Pete’s sake. Secondly, this is plain and simple a terrible death for Joel. Not because of how he died (because this is a zombie apocalypse, after all, it’s going to be brutal even if it’s awful to see) but the fact that this happens the way it did and the placement of it. There’s no closure to his character arc or to the rift between himself and Ellie that’s, at this moment, unknown to the reader. He didn’t die saving Ellie, which as cliche as it sounds, would have juxtaposed beautifully with Sarah’s death at the start of the first game. Imagine how satisfying it would have been to see that Joel would be willing to die for Ellie after he’s been focused only on surviving and himself. Imagine if he’d died in Ellie’s arms just like Sarah did in his…

The timing is also really bad considering we’ve barely seen any of him in the two hours we’ve played. When we see Joel die, it doesn’t feel as impactful as it could’ve been. We haven’t seen any new or old encounters with him and Ellie, except for the small seconds at the start as he retells the end of the first game. We haven’t had a chance to fully reconnect with him. His odd actions further distance us away from him because he’s not acting like he usually would. Therefore we’re left with a horrifying death that feels hollow, strange and disconected.

Abby does not help make this scene any better, which is a shame, because I think if different choices were made to push this death further in the game, we could have had a chance to care for her or at the very least begin to like her. Instead, we have no clue as to who she is or what her motivations are before this. All we know is she’s looking for someone. To then see this new character kill someone so beloved, in the most brutal way… Players are gonna hate her immediately! I hated her immediately! And like I said, her dialogue in this scene is atrociously bad, especially when she insults Joel. That really felt like you were adding salt to the wound there Naughty Dog.

Imagine if you will, what a better death or a change in chronological order of Joel’s death could have done to help the story. If we’d got to know Abby more, playing as her for longer than two hours, she might not have been as hated. The player could have begun to like her and sympathise with her, slowly realising who she is and at the same time, seeing the damage Joel has caused in his selfish decisions. She could have still killed Joel, but towards the end of the game, so that the player would have felt more conflicted about her doing it after seeing her past, seeing the pain that she went through. The game could have reminded us that Joel is still an anti-hero. Imagine that? If the game had made us admit to ourselves that, though it’s painful to watch, his death might have just needed to happen to make up for the loss of everyone he killed? It could still have fit the environment they’re in too, with a brutal and harsh death that could’ve come out of nowhere, but still felt justified in the story. Tess in the first game had a brilliant death, befitting of her badass character, yet still shocking and realistic to the world she lived in. Instead of becoming a zombie, she instead let herself be shot after bravely standing outnumbered against the enemy while Joel and Ellie escaped. It was a great death and Joel had every right to one of his own.

Maybe he didn’t even need to die for his actions at all though? Let’s not forget that he’s not the only one who has done bad and unspeakable things in this broken world the characters live in. He’s not irredemable, he’s a complicated human being who has had to adapt to the world around him. Think about some of the groups we came across in the first game- is Joel really worse than them? Yes, he took away the world’s chance at a new begining, but did it even deserve to start again after seeing how horrid people had become? Imagine if your loved one was sacrificing themself for a world that didn’t deserve it? Imagine if the cure might not even work or be possible to create, would you really just let them die? Joel’s only human, he acted with his heart instead of his mind. I have no doubt that Abby would probably do the same, or Ellie, or any other character who had those same choices ahead of them. Joel’s actions were selfish, yes, but he shouldn’t have to die for it. I wouldn’t want to lose someone I cared deeply about, just for a possible cure that would save an unworthy world.This is why we aren’t finding fault with the fact that Joel died, it’s HOW and WHY it happened that’s got us so pissed off.

What makes his death and the story even worse is the ending of the game. All the pain and trauma Ellie goes through killing all of Abby’s friends to find her becomes worthless. Why- she lets her go free. After fighting her twice and losing her fingers during one of those fights, Ellie suddenly has an epiphany and realises that revenge isn’t the answer. She lets Abby go. Once again, I understand what Naughty Dog were trying to do here and once again it could have worked.

‘Revenge is bad’. It’s been in many games and this message has worked beautifully in most too, like in Red Dead Redemption 2 for example. It worked beautifully in the game because it’s something that Arthur makes reference to a lot, reiterating the fact that ‘revenge is a fool’s game’. We see that pan out when John gets revenge at the end of the game and pays the price for it. The reason it fails in The Last of Us 2 is that this message comes from nowhere. Ellie has killed hundreds of people leading up to her final fight with Abby and she’s lost even more in the process too, including friends, her family and now her ability to play the guitar which was the final big thing linking her back to Joel. She’s brutally murdered many, torturing others so badly that she turned into a shell of herself afterwards. She suffers from PTSD because of Abby’s actions, seeing the death of Joel repeatedly, leaving her physically and emotionally weak. It doesn’t make any sense that after all this traumatising violence and pain, she suddenly gives up on the notion of revenge when she’s just about to kill the murderer of her father. The most disappointing thing is this message could have still worked if done correctly. If she could have realised revenge is pointless sooner, this wouldn’t feel as out of place as it does. Why does this one person, the murderer out of all people, change Ellie’s mind, after killing so many? Sure, you could say she has a family now and she was reminded of them, but then why would they have such an impact at the point of Abby’s near death, when Dina begging Ellie to stay didn’t work in the first place? It’s. Bad. Writing.

Abby and Ellie have both hurt each other equally, killing family, close friends and their fathers. Instead of killing each other, the story could have led them to realise together that Ellie is still the key to saving humanity, and with Abby’s link to the fireflies, they could somehow still create a cure.

Imagine. That. How fulfilling that would have been? Instead of the horrid, pointless ending we got instead.

Joel’s death could have brought the two together, connecting the Fireflies once again with the cure to right the wrongs he did. He could have realised that Abby was looking for him and willingly sacrifice himself to make up for what he did, completing his arc like I mentioned while also dying a fitting, badass death. He could have left a note for Ellie to read, explaining his actions, to say sorry and to show that he knows this is the only way to fix what he did. At the end of the game, Ellie could have looked out on a recovering world, singing her own rendition of Joel’s song, this time full of new beginnings in the face of great sacrifice.

That’s how you finish a story and a character’s arc. I’m no world-class writer, but I could imagine many different ways this same story and message could have panned out but with better writing, pacing and time, telling a tale of angst and sadness, while opening up a new chapter of hope and healing. The real end of the game leaves you feeling hollow and depressed, unfulfilled in the journey you’ve just experienced. Games are at their basic principle means of enjoyment, we play them to escape our lives and to have fun. They can be dark, harrowing and painful but still an absolute pleasure to play. What doesn’t help in defence of the game’s story is that the game director Neil Druckman said himself ‘For us, with The Last of Us specifically (Uncharted is a little different in our creative approaches), we don’t use the word ‘fun’. That feels… wrong to hear. If video games are not enjoyable, then what is the point in playing them?

I think it really says something in particular when the most enjoyable part of the game is a flashback between Joel and Ellie where there’s no real action. It’s just them, exploring a museum for her birthday, talking and joking and it’s the best part of the game hands down. It doesn’t include any of the new brilliant gameplay and while stunning, doesn’t really have much visual impact either. What makes it so special is just seeing the characters we love interact and have fun like it’s a scene cut straight from the first game. After 7 years, us fans were yearning to see more of Joel and Ellie’s cute relationship, so to only have that and a few other small scenes is so… unsatisfying. If we had more of their adventures before Joel’s death, I know that many people would have been much more accepting of it. It would have definitely been more impactful, having given us the chance to reconnect with them both again. Going back to Ellie on her revenge path after that museum scene was so depressing. It’s such a shame that further interaction between them was just forgotten about and thrown aside. They were such a big factor in the first game’s success, so to see them barely together felt too strange. Though we play as Ellie for the most part, it began to feel less and less like Last of Us and more like some new zombie game. Playing as Abby so suddenly too and for so long just further implemented that weird feeling. It’s a real shame because I really can’t stand her at all now. But she could have been a great character if the story was much different.

I can’t help but feel that the story feels patronising and degrading to its audience in some ways. Some of the choices and plot lines feel very disrespectful to the characters and fans, simply because of what it expects of you after forcing you through unwanted pain and misery. Let’s not forget also that we were lied to in the trailers. Showing numerous clips of Joel as his oldest self to reel us in, then change them to be flashbacks? Flashbacks which happen to be the only good pieces of storytelling in the whole game. It’s just wrong. And quite frankly it’s disgusting. Video games are expensive nowadays. We already knew many fans were gonna buy it anyway because we’re loyal to what we love. But to intentionally make that push, using lies, to secure sales for an expensive game from a huge fan base… it’s disrespectful.

As a whole, I can see what Naughty Dog were trying to do. They were trying to create something different, do what they wanted instead of what the fans wanted. That’s not a bad thing at all, it’s ballsy and creative to do something like that with a well-loved franchise. Rockstar took that same leap when they created Red Dead Redemption 2, forcing you to play as Arthur instead of the beloved John. It worked for them because they wrote the story well enough so that you’d have time to explore this new character and grow to love him, especially when faced with his actions and his mortality. Arthur dies brutality but fans still love the game because it was a fitting and wonderful way to finish his character arc.

This idea fails with The Last of Us 2 because the player isn’t properly engaged with the story before shit hits the fan and their favourite character is dead. I have no doubt that if it was written differently, if we’d been able to see more of Joel before his death and had more than two hours played with Abby that this story could have actually worked. The message that ‘revenge is bad’ could have worked. Ellie and Abby both have the same arc, experiencing something traumatic, being consumed by revenge, then ultimately realising it’s worthless to kill. We could have followed the same arc with a much better version of the story we actually got.

Instead, it feels like the game is intentionally pissing us off, continuously ruining that idea, first by making us watch as Joel is brutally and stupidly killed so soon, then secondly, by then forcing us to play and connect with Abby for 50% of the game when that seed of hate for her has already been planted. This is another one of the moments in the game where I feel like we’re being patronised. Is it really fair to paint us in such a bad light for not wanting to play and grow to like Abby, when we saw her as a stranger brutally kill our favourite character? Is it really that bad for us to hate her after she has caused so much pain when we’ve only known her for two hours? It’s such a shame because she could have actually become a new well-loved character.

I’d just like to say that while I think the story is bad, no one who was involved in the making of this game should be attacked for it. Video games, especially in this age, are such hard things to make because so much goes into them and I don’t want to discredit anyone’s work. Regardless of my or anyone else’s opinions on the game or its story, the team at Naughty Dog have still poured hours of time and effort into making it. They shouldn’t be receiving attacks or hate, we can still discuss the game and our opinions while being respectful. The actors shouldn’t be receiving hate either, they acted brilliantly with what they were given. Ashley Johnson and Laura Bailey especially should be credited for their work. And Troy Baker, though he was only in it for a short while, deserves an award just for that final ending scene between Ellie and Joel- it made me cry buckets. He made this character come alive beautifully and he deserves all the praise for it. And so do the rest of the cast, who did exceptionally good jobs.

In my eyes (though it sounds bad) The Last of Us 2 doesn’t exist as a game. In my own perfect world, it’s actually just badly written fanfiction posted to Tumblr or Wattpad. As goes in my made up ending, Joel and Ellie move to Jackson and restart their lives after the end of the first game. Eventually, he tells her about what happened and there’s a rift between them for some time, which is, of course, to be expected- it was a momentously selfish thing for him to do. Over time though, Ellie learns to forgive him and the rest is history. Because there’s no real canon ending, anything can happen. So… Did they eventually create a cure? Who knows. Did they stay in Jackson, happily living out their lives? Maybe. Did Joel die a badass and sacrificial death protecting Ellie? Possibly. Or did Joel die eventually in old age, surrounded by his family, holding his daughter’s hand as he passed away?

I hope so…

He may have been a complicated anti-hero. He may have even been a villain. Regardless, he still deserved a respectful death and in my perfect makebelieve ending…

He got it.

🌟🌟/5

Photo Credit ~ some from @ inora_miller on Instagram

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