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ronintales · 8 months ago

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So When I Die. | Gojo Satoru

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 | following gojo satoru’s death, his ex wife is in charge of taking care of his funeral service and everything else that comes with it.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 4,676 words

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | character death, possible spoilers, funeral, angst, mentions of not eating, and not proofread ;p

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | I did NAWT want this to be my first work on here but due to certain circumstances…. AHEM his DEATH!!!! I felt it was necessary because laik… grief LOL. I wrote this a while back tho. Enjoy.

Your ex-husband is dead, and in his line of work, yes, you know that he has a higher risk of dying than the average person, but still, death never comes expected, does it? Even if he always says—oh wait… used to, you suppose, say that he was crazy strong and no one could ever take him down. Well, he was wrong in the end like a bunch of other things. Like how well he took care of you, how he’d give you six kids, how—you won’t ramble, noting he’s dead now and there’s no point, but also because it’s quite rude of you to talk down on someone who is dead and can’t defend themselves. Whatever.

You just… don’t expect it. Yes, you understood he was hard headed and insanely cocky, but in a way… you always believed that he would always come home alive and, even if he did get hurt, he would be okay eventually as he heals. You don’t forget it, he’s only human, you know because of the many mistakes he’s made, but still… he’s… he’s gone?

You hesitated when you heard that. Gojo Satoru, the so-called love of your life from two years ago, is dead? Impossible, you think. Gojo Satoru found death embarrassing, with all the things he said. He said that he would be okay. He was always okay. What are you supposed to say to that?

When you get the call, you wonder why you, of all the people in his life, were the one they called to inform about his status. Why did you have to go to his place and clean out all his things? Take all his belongings with you? At first, your instinct was to say “throw it all away,” because what does Gojo Satoru mean to you now? You’re not his wife! He neglected you for years and filled your days and nights with sorrows. He broke your heart. But still, he didn’t mean nothing to you at the same time.

Those precious years of being his acquaintance in middle school. When you had shorter hair and he didn’t know much about you other than you were in his class and he had bought you cute white socks for your class gift exchange on Christmas that year. The long years that Gojo Satoru pined for you after you both attended the same high school. The hard and dark times he went through losing Suguru and shutting you out, though he loved you for so long. When you turned twenty, and Satoru had gotten better, to the point where he felt he was ready to move on and continue with his pursuit for you. When you turned twenty-three, and got married to him on a spur. When you moved in and shared a bed, until the marriage got cold and most nights you spent alone.

You couldn’t say for the past fourteen years, Gojo Satoru was nothing at all to you. The news was shocking, and knowing he was dead… did you have to be careful about how you felt about him, or how you thought of him? Well, now that he is dead, should you be so ruthless and hostile toward the man who broke your heart? You don’t know, so naturally, and it really just slips out, you agree to take care of the process of his passing.

For the most part, you’re calm. You don’t actually know how to feel, and you don’t know how to be. You’re not his wife, you have no obligations to take care of him, or anything that he cared about. Yet, you’re here. In his lonely apartment that doesn’t even smell like him. He probably never even spent much time in this place, even so, he still had a lot of belongings. Pictures of you in frames surprisingly. He did take them all when you got divorced and he moved out of the house, you just didn’t expect that he’d put them up on display. He probably didn’t get many visitors to question him about the lady in his pictures. You were sure that would get annoying.

Anyway, you don’t know if you’re supposed to cry or even feel sad. You don’t know if it’s strange to feel that way or not. You can’t quite make out how you feel, being surrounded by Gojo Satoru’s personality and things. You don’t think too much about the things inside the apartment because you don’t want to be too reminded of what you used to be. What you felt about the man once upon a time. If there was still love in your heart for him.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t a slob, but he wasn’t clean either by any means. Given he probably didn’t stay here much, it made sense that you didn’t need to clean a whole lot of the apartment. You get there and you take it all in. Satoru’s little apartment, because he didn’t want to pay for such a luxurious place he wouldn’t even stay in. Maybe that kind of place made him feel more alone too. Thoughts you should not be thinking start to trickle into your brain, but you stop yourself. You shouldn’t feel bad for leaving, nor should you want to go back. You made a decision to leave and you should honor it. It was the right thing to do for yourself (hopefully).

Do you even want his things? No, not really. But you have a keep, donate, and a throw away bin anyway. Most of it keeps going to the keep bin and donation box. Somehow the feeling of someone else getting Gojo Satoru’s things is unsettling to you, but it’s even worse to think that all these things will just go to a landfill where things that were once valued are forgotten and it’s all going to be considered “trash.” Maybe that’s because you know why every item is there and the story behind that certain mug or decor piece. You don’t know it, but you’re trying your best not to care.

You sigh, the thought that this is all so strange, bothering and pestering you like an annoying fly. You tell yourself you know that already, so stop thinking about it. Maybe you’re in denial that Gojo Satoru is actually gone. You can feel him. He’s still there, you know it. That or you’re just surrounded by his belongings and that’s why his presence is here.

In your hand, you hold a big black garbage bag as you make your way to his bedroom to clear out his closet. This is a room of his that you haven’t been to, strange right? You wondered if another woman spent time here. Jealous much? You’re supposed to be clearing out your ex-husband’s apartment, not pondering about what he was up to after you two had split. The man is dead for one, what are you going to do about it? Confront his dead body? You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, so that thought is one you shake off and ignore too.

You sigh because you’re tired from cleaning all day and clearing his things out and you’re probably only a quarter’s way done with the place. It’s not even that big, it’s just been uncomfortably hard for you to bring yourself here with your mixed and strange feelings about this whole situation. Isn’t there anyone else who cares about Gojo Satoru? How come you’re stepping up to the plate when this is how you feel—confused and unsure? What are you even going to do for the funeral? You took the task up because Gojo Satoru would probably turn in his grave knowing the higher ups organized his funeral. So while it is strange for you to do all of this, you’ve rationalized the lot of this situation that you put yourself in. Once upon a time, he loved you right? So surely he would prefer you over—you’re so silly, thinking all these things when Gojo Satoru is your dead ex-husband.

You plop on the bed with a small groan as you turn over. This is a bit inappropriate, to be laying on your ex husband’s unmade bed. It’s left in the state that it was the last time he woke up. That’s a little precious you think, freely, not even denying it. Are you ruining this precious thing here? Well, in all honesty, you’re kind of cherishing it, because this is a small piece of Satoru that is really still here in the present times. He always liked soft things and this blanket is soft. The sheets still smell like your ex-husband. The light musk of his skin and his soap is there. The thought of this bed being his is comfortable enough. Like you miss his warmth and touch, you curl up on the mattress, hugging yourself to the scent of him surrounding, and you can almost imagine that he’s holding you right now, like he used to. His detergent is faintly there too, well actually, it’s the same as yours. He asked when you two had split and he was settling into his own place all the household items you used. You supposed that it was all he knew.

You offered to go shop for household things with him and it was probably the last time you two had exchanged any kind of affection. You let him put his hand on your thigh as he drove you two to the supermarket. He let you link your arm with his, sides flush together like you two didn’t just get divorced. It was a silent message of “I miss you,” because it was and—quite frankly, still is—hard to get over someone you loved for so long. Even if he left the marriage long before you did, emotionally and physically. This was something you wanted while you married, for Satoru to present, and in your arms. For him to show you that he cared and loved you. You were even a little upset that was the only time he was doing all of that for you, but you chose not to ruin the moment for the both of you.

Funny how all these memories and things between the two of you are flooding in constantly. It makes you feel kind of sick. Nauseous and unable to breathe. You open your eyes in realization of what you’re doing right now. You sit up immediately, flustered and embarrassed as if Satoru would open the door right now and have that annoying smug grin on his face with his arms crossed, just to say as he leans on the door frame, “I knew you missed me.” Following with your name because he liked your name the best. He always said your name was pretty and he wouldn’t give you a pet name because nothing will ever be as great as calling you by your name. A nice little reminder that Satoru loved your name makes you smile a bit. Weird how all of these just keep piling up. One thought triggers another and it almost makes you itch and feel bad for the way things ended between the two of you. You almost have regrets about—

Whatever, you have a deadline to clean this place up you remind yourself. You spread your palms out on the sheets once more, feeling every thread that Satoru once laid his body on. You should take these for your bed, you think. They’re not so bad, just a plain white sheet, but it reminds you of Satoru’s hair and it would be waste.You lift yourself from the bed and open his closet, not even noticing how you keep having to make excuses for yourself to keep some of his things.

Already feeling overwhelmed because you keep holding back, opening the closet makes you feel like you’re cracking. You let out a suppressed sound. You can’t even register what it sounds like. A squeak or something? But looking at all his clothes almost makes everything so real for you. All his uniform? All his coats and sweaters? Ah, the one from high school. And then you can see all the ones you bought him. Damn, does that really test your strength.

Lined up neatly and nicely put away, it’s almost a shame to you to give these away. Your hand shakes as you hesitantly reach for one of his favorite button ups. Your skin meets the soft fabric and you only lightly touch it because you don’t want to wrinkle it. You remember when you used to iron Satoru’s clothes early in the morning before he woke up. Even until the end of your marriage, you still ironed them.

You look up, reaching for his work uniform. This is what he wore most often, you know that. So you let yourself crumble. Carefully taking off the hanger and sitting on his bed as you hold the shirt close to you. You bring it to your nose, just to smell it. You wish it smelled like Satoru more, but even so, it makes you break down.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you take another sniff. The thought that Satoru really isn’t here anymore makes your heartbreak. It comes crashing down on you. You really miss him, and you regret that you didn’t spend as much time as you would have liked to with him. You wish you could have had the courage to tell him how much you still cared and loved him. Yes, it might not have been the same kind of love you had for him before, but you did still love him.

You let out a little sob. In frustration and despair, tears flow out as you hold his clothes close to you. The walls of your bruised heart collapses as you hold his clothes so tight as if he was still in them. Well, you really do wish he was. You’re desperate to feel him in your arms physically. Just a moment with him so you could say your last sentiments. Just a moment to see him again. Just a moment to love him.

You’re helpless as your tears flow endlessly onto his shirt. You feel silly, but you just can’t stop. You really miss Satoru, and you have been for so many months now. You stroke the shirt as you would his body, wallowing in the grief you’re supposed to feel, even if the dead man is your ex-husband. You spent so many years loving him, how could you just not feel anything to hear news of his death? How could you not feel any regret or remorse for how messy you left things with him? There’s so many things you want to say to him, and it kills you to know you will never get to say any of it to him.

You wonder if Satoru was still around, would he wrap his arms around you and tell you not to cry? Would he kiss your temple like he always did when you were down? You wish he would just do all of it. You wish you two could have tried harder. Your love for him never burned out, you know that much. It’s the reason why you’re here, alone in his room crying as you hold his clothes dearly to you. And even if you hate to say it, even if you don’t want to admit it, Satoru loved you until the very end too.

“I’m still in love with you y’know…”

“Shut up,” You mutter as you slide the eggs off the pan for the hungry man at the table.

It was the dead hours of the night when he returned from a mission, knocking on your door, telling you that he was hungry and needed a place to crash.You slammed the door on him of course, but he wedged his foot in the gap of the door (no, it didn’t hurt, he’s got magical powers that prevent him from actually getting hurt like damn maniac) and used his strength against you to push his upper body through the door to beg you to let him stay. It was a mistake on your part, but it actually wasn’t all that terrible that night. You were just bitter.

“My bad,” Satoru said dramatically as he took a bite. “Just thought you missed me. That’s the reason you let me in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not in the mood for any of his games. His smug grin made everything even worse, because he was right. “Gojo Satoru, wipe that grin off your face.”

“Must have hit a nerve,” He teased like it was still appropriate to do so.

You actually don’t even remember what you said then after that, but you just know… Gojo Satoru has you all figured out yet… he never said anything about it to you. And that was just him. He knew well enough not to break your heart one more time, but he was selfish enough to constantly flirt with you any time he could. If he passed by, or was coming home late from a mission and knocking on your door to remind you that he existed. Not anymore.

After cleaning his apartment, it’s all empty now. Which is a little strange. You’ve never even been to his place until after he died, and yet… it makes your stomach turn and feel upset after realizing that this place is no longer where your ex-lover resides. You understand that he’s no longer occupying it. There’s no point in keeping it for him. But maybe because you don’t think it through while you’re still in the grieving process. You don’t think about Gojo Satoru being dead because you don’t want to. It makes your heart squeeze and your breath stop. You can’t face the fact that he no longer exists and you can no longer see him anymore. You just can’t, so you wonder: where will his home be? Who's going to take care of him? Where is he going to go to shelter himself from the rain or snow? Where is he going to sleep? Where can he feel safe and secure?

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. You really need to get some proper rest. You feel yourself withering in the bitter feelings you still have toward Satoru, but also the dangerous sorrow that’s sinking your whole body down. You can’t believe that you really miss Gojo Satoru after all this time hating him and wishing you two had never met when he was here and alive, waiting for you to just cave into what your heart wanted. Truth is though, you never would. You were too strong for that.

Finally, you pack up the final things, leaving absolutely nothing behind. Satoru isn’t here anymore, and it looks exactly like that. This little corner of the world isn’t his anymore, and you’d like to say that it never was because he didn’t spend much of his time in this place. It’s just sad to see it all gone, stripped to the bare white box it actually is without the fun of your late ex-husband. You shut the door, leaving this place behind and bringing this part of Satoru with you, maybe the only part of Satoru that is still worldly and able for you to have in your grasp. You leave the key to his apartment on the landlord’s desk and leave with the rest of Satoru’s things in your arms, all thrown in the cardboard box labeled “Satoru” in your handwriting with a permanent marker. Silly of you to not even realize it, Gojo Satoru’s home is not a place, it’s you.

The end of it was the funeral process. Which was much more work than cleaning his apartment. You wish somebody was worried about your well-being, but that somebody, the most likely candidate, was dead. Satoru would have told you to chill out a bit and ask you to wind down with him, but this is his funeral, he can’t really do that now, can he? But you don’t want to seem like you’re so reliant on him. You’ve done plenty of things without him, and this will be no exception. He just… sort of made the process easier and bearable. You’re on your 10th phone call with the carpenters of the coffin when you really wish you didn’t take on the task of carrying out Satoru’s dying wishes. He didn’t even have many, because he was so sure he wasn’t going to die so soon.

Through it all, you hold yourself together quite elegantly. Even through the eulogy. No one would even guess the mental strain you put yourself through to make this all happen. All the floral arrangements are beautiful, Satoru’s corpse is dressed nicely—though you grace him with a closed casket funeral because you were sure that he did not want anyone to see him so vulnerably lifeless and you simply could not handle the sight of his stale and unresponsive body. But everyone could indeed tell, Gojo Satoru was loved. They could understand your love for the man. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t love him. But you just deny it.

His guest list was quite large. Some people you didn't even know, and you were sure he did not want that. But the higher ups had their own agenda too, and you had to make compromises though you stood your ground quite well for the sake of your late ex-husband's well being in the afterlife. You wonder, would Satoru love you for eternity for loving and caring for him unconditionally and so thoroughly? When you eventually join him, will he thank you for so meticulously planning and giving him a proper send off? You hope so. You hope that he will continue to love you in the next lifetime, and in that lifetime, you two will be happily together. Not miserably apart like you are now.

Maybe the only time anyone can see you break is when the casket is lowered and this is the last time that you’ll ever see Satoru’s face again, except you don’t. His casket is closed and covered with all the flowers you bought to send him off beautifully. There’s a complex look on your face, and no one could quite read it, but it was clear that there was a storm going on inside of you, stirring and rumbling. Your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes glossy with a down turn of your lips. You’re just keeping yourself together for Satoru. You need to.

The only time you get to break down about it is when you get home from the long day. Crumbling down your door, as you miserably sob. How could the world be so possibly cruel that you had to bury the last man you loved for the past ten years? It never gave you time to move on. You weren’t ready to let go just yet and be content with the distance. Sure, you asked for it when he was still tangible, but now he was untouchable, not existing, and it felt so painful. You curl up in a ball, on the bed you used to share with him. The bed you two used to gossip on and the bed where you simply just held him to sleep on your good days. The bed that you laid alone for most nights wishing he’d come to hold you and not be too tired for you. All the bad and good memories come to make you think of one thing; you wish Satoru was here right now.

You lay there, contemplating if you just want to stay there for the whole week or get up and cook yourself something. You haven’t been eating with how hectic it’s been to take care of Satoru’s send off. You sigh, closing your eyes. Sleep sounds like the best thing to you at the moment. You were drained and exhausted from preserving the life of Gojo Satoru as well as commemorating it. You needed that rest.

When you drift into sleep, you kind of hope that Satoru is there for you, waiting in a field of beautiful flowers like he came to visit you in a dream. Even if it’s just your imagination. You’d like to think that he cared enough that he left you alone to deal with all of the things he left behind. He doesn’t though, because you don’t dream. You just black out and you wonder if you’ll ever dream again. But maybe you’re just being dramatic because you miss your ex-husband so much. You blink the tears out from your eyes, wiping them before getting up and pulling yourself together. You can be sad, but not miserable. You were never the type to just crumble, however, even this shook you down to the very ground and yes, it is hard to get back up. But everything with Satoru was hard, and this was no different. You should have been used to this.

Eventually, you do get yourself together. Sad, but you’re functioning. You go back to work and you continue with your daily life. Satoru’s never really been a part of your daily routine after the 3rd year of being married to him. It was no different not seeing him at all, but it was just the fact that he truly wasn't there anymore. If you were to call his cell, it would just ring on your dresser in your room and go to voicemail. Sometimes, you wait for the voicemail just to hear his voice, but most times you stay away from his contact. You’re recovering, just slowly.

People at work send their condolences, just like they did when they found out you divorced Gojo Satoru. They give you a pitiful look and tell you to be strong, but when they think you’re not listening they bash Satoru for passing and still putting the responsibility of carrying his will out on his ex wife—you. You don’t defend him nor does what they say settle well with you. They’re right, of course. Gojo Satoru has always been selfish, up until his last breath, but you just can’t seem to feel validated when you’re the one who buried Gojo Satoru. He was once your whole world, how could you just completely numb yourself to the pain of losing your connection with him, absolutely and completely?

Apparently, you’re the only person on his will too. You inherit everything of his one day, and it’s kind of overwhelming. All of his money is transferred to your bank account, all his belongings, everything is yours. You don’t even know what to do with most of it. You don’t even want to look and use anything of his. So you store most of his things in a box and label it “Satoru,” along with the other things that you took from his apartment, and you make an account to store all his money in, for what? You don’t know, just something.

When you're older, you’ll come to realize that you made Satoru a loved person until the very end, and that you were perhaps the only person that he still had love for, even if you weren’t his wife anymore. This is why Satoru loved you so much, and yes, he got very lucky with you, you will give yourself that. But you also won’t feel so bitter about having to be the person to handle his departure because you made sure to do just the way he wanted it, by you. for now, you’ll miss him lots and bring him flowers whenever the time comes. You won’t call him your ex-husband, but your late-husband. You keep some of his clothes to wear like you used to. You still sleep on your side of the bed, leaving the space Satoru used to fill empty for him. Life goes on the way it used to.

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arthursfuckinghat · 9 months ago

Note

so what is your opinion on mary then? you said previously that you didn't like her but you're happy to defend her?

Sure, Mary isn't my favourite person, but I don't hate her - honestly I don't <3

I'm always going to defend characters who are victims to mischaracterisation, especially the women. It's a frequent double standard, people fail to be as understanding of female characters compared to male characters.

Mary and Arthur both suffered to difficult home lives and dysfunctional families, just to different extents.

Mary hated that Arthur was an outlaw, she understandably didn't like that he kills people and steals, but she knew how good of a person Arthur could be. Arthur hated Mary's family and how they treated her, they were very judgemental and abusive, especially when Mary was with Arthur. He knew how much she cared about her family regardless of how they treated her, Arthur knew how good of a woman she was.

What pains me is how Mary failed to understand how living as an outlaw wasn't a choice for Arthur. He was raised in an environment that showed how harsh the world could be if he wasn't tough enough or willing to kill for his safety, Mary was raised in a similarly harsh environment that exposed her to how being a woman meant being treated as a lesser person in the society they lived in.

Given how Mary and Arthur initially parted ways, her needing Arthur's help in chapter two proved difficult for both of them - same in chapter four but it ended on a better note if you chose to.

Mary's main takeaway from meeting Arthur was seeing how he didn't, or couldn't change. Even though we don't see as much of her life compared to Arthur, it didn't seem like she changed either.

It always came across to me that they both wanted eachother to change (i.e Mary wanting Arthur leaving the outlaw life and Arthur wanting Mary to be more understanding of his circumstances) but because they both had family ties, they just couldn't.

Mary couldn't be understanding of Arthur's life because he still continued to live that way, proving that he couldn't change. Arthur couldn't leave his outlaw ways behind because he had the gang to provide for, proving that Mary wouldn't be understanding despite them both knowing that they couldn't abandon family.

To which we come full circle, they split initially because they weren't compatible and that still remained to be the case.

Mary was fully prepared to drop everything to run away with Arthur, but she expected him to do the same. Even after his explanation about the gang and needing money, she knows she's heard it all before and decided to just leave it. They both wanted to run away so badly and I can imagine that even if they did, their lives would catch up with them eventually.

Nothing gets forgotten.

Arthur knows that, he just ran out of time, and Mary didn't know at the time how precious those moments with Arthur really were.

#john would know too but that's in the future #I hope I got my thoughts across well enough #but I really don't hate mary I just hate how much change she expected from arthur without putting in any changes herself </3 #which is normal it happens in real life relationships too #its great writing!#mary is not an evil manipulator btw #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mick squeaks #mick rants #arthur morgan #mary linton #mary gillis #red dead redemption 2 spoilers #red dead redemption community #let me know what you guys think <3 #asks

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thebadgerclan · 2 years ago

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The Only Thing He Has Left

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: You are the only thing he has left...

dragotsennaya devushka--precious girl

A/N: I have a pretty dark idea for a part 2, which I’m gonna write too bc I can’t be stopped 😂

She stood across from him, the War Room table between them. Where was she, really? That was what Aleksander wondered every time he saw her through the tether, where was his Summoner? Alina appeared to him in her kefta from the Winter Fete, but he knew that particular garment was long long lost. How did he appear to her? Was he how she last saw him, or did she see his scars?

“I meant what I told you, all those months ago,” Aleksander said. “I promised that you and I would change the world.” “That is never going to happen,” Alina countered. “I’ll destroy the only thing you have left.” Her words were purposeful, her glare icy, and Aleksander immediately knew what she meant. His Army was fractured, his nation was now embroiled in a Civil War, there was little that Aleksander still held dear. Except…

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his hands tingling as panic filled him. “Wouldn’t I? You have no idea what I will or won't do.” Aleksander stepped around the table, causing Alina to stumble backwards a bit. “Mark my words, Miss Starkov, if you even think about harming my wife, I will make you suffer as you have never suffered before.” Alina, to her credit, did not blanch, did not show the fear she no doubt felt, but drew herself up straighter.

“I’d like to see you try.” Rage filled him, and Aleksander summoned the Cut, slicing the tether-version of Alina in two. The map of Ravka on the far wall took the brunt of his anger, ironically directly over the ink symbolizing the Fold, and Aleksander let his anger carry him through the corridors to you. “Inessa!” he called, summoning the head of his oprichniki. “Yes, moi soverennyi?”

“Y/N is to be guarded at all times from this point out,” your husband ordered. “I want at least 7 soldiers on her detail around the clock, our most skilled and deadliest. No one gets within 20 feet of her without my say so, am I clear?” Inessa nodded, keeping pace with Aleksander as he strode down the hall. “Da, moi sovernnyi. Is there anyone in particular you’d like on her detail?”

“Pasha and Liza, otherwise, use your judgment.” “Yes, sir.” Inessa bowed and turned to leave, preparing to make her new assignments. Aleksander found you at your desk in your shared rooms, and as soon as he stepped through the door, he sent four of his nichevo’ya to stand watch. “Aleksander, what’s going on?” you asked, rising from your seat. “What happened?”

“Alina has threatened to…” he choked back tears, and you knew then that whatever had happened was serious. “She threatened to kill you.” “W-what?” You hadn’t seen the Sun Summoner since the Winter Fete, but you’d heard how powerful she’d become, and you knew how deep her hatred for your husband ran. Alina would do whatever was necessary to take him down, and you knew that if you got in her way, you’d be just another obstacle in her way.

Fear had your legs trembling, and you shakily lowered yourself back to your seat. Aleksander took your hands and followed you down, kneeling at your side. “Y/N, look at me, darling. I will not let her hurt you. If she even gets near you, she will die. And it will be a slow, painful death.” “Sasha?” “Yes, dragotsennaya devushka?” “I’m scared.” Your husband gently tugged on your hands, and you fell into his lap, burying your face in his chest, his arms wrapping snugly around you.

“I know, Y/N,” he said. “I am too. But I will always protect you, until I am dust on the wind, I will defend you with my life.” You said nothing, snuggling closer to your husband, letting the scent of his cologne calm you. “I love you, Y/N,” Aleksander said, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. “My sweet darling, I love you so much. I’ll always keep you safe.” “I love you too, Aleksander,” you said. The Sun Summoner could make whatever threats she liked; if she decided to move, Aleksander would be ready.

#aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone reader insert

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viridianevergarden · 9 months ago

Text

So it seems that one of the main gripes that antis have about elriel is the way Azriel worded his big question to Rhys. That the way he said it screams entitlement to Elain? I’m going to break this down a little.

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another."

I really don’t think anything is wrong here.

Consider how Azriel is for a moment. He is of a more sophisticated character and he talks that way normally. The sentence is structured poetically, yes? Azriel is of a poetic sort, as we have seen on many occasions.

Azriel is referring entirely to the numerical imbalance that is present between the 3 to 3 ratio because that’s what it is. A numerical imbalance. Thats why Elain is referred to as “the third”. Weren’t Nesta and Feyre referred to as the “two”?

But it’s only wrong that he referred to Elain as the Third? Okay.

He wasn’t specifically referring to the sisters individually. He was referring to them alongside his brothers as a group. Of course she is the Third, because that is what she is. You’d think an English class would teach that.

This doesn’t mean that he sees her as an object.

Its quite the opposite that he sees her as such, given the fact that this man -across 4 books- has risked life and limb for her, spent time with her, gave her his dagger for her own safety that no one else has ever touched, actively sought her out on many occasions, and defended her against Nesta and *Lucien? Come on now. Let’s be real.

*Voicing that she doesn’t even want him in the BC is a defense in her stead.

No one does all that to slip under someone’s dress or get into their pants. Across 2 years mind.

The “given to another” line really isn’t serious just like the aforementioned.

She practically was given to another. She was thrown at Lucien, as per Lucien’s pov, since he’s oh so important. The cauldron shackled her to him as he is to her. It’s merely an observation. No entitlement.

The way Azriel spoke about Lucien regarding the blood duel, fighting him and beating him, etc. People think that Azriel is screaming entitlement by merely stating that he’d beat him? Oh lord. After Rhys and the narration confirmed that it was true? Spending precious page space to make that known?

Not entitlement. Merely stating the obvious, an observation just like the rest. A truth that SJM was trying to convey.

And don’t start with the “He’S a HiGhLoRd’S sOn, He’D bEaT AzRiEl.” Respectfully, silence. Highlord power is passed on by the death of the current highlord. Highlord esc dominance ≠ highlord power. SJM spent page space to make the fact that Az would win known, get over it.

Then they have the matter of “well why didn’t he fight Rhys back and confess his love for Elain then?”

There’s three answers I can give:

This is a BC, he won’t do that until it’s in a book that he actually stars in as a main character, which obviously is the next installment.

Azriel, as a person, feels he should not love her. That he does not deserve her. That he taints her very being. And that she is too good for him and Lucien. So that statement would be completely out of character for him to do so here. This man hates himself so much that he feels he doesn’t have the right or reason to fight for his love for Elain. So he won’t.

Rhysand himself.

The explanation on Rhysand:

Rhys shut him down as soon as he walked in

Taunted and antagonized him

Threw wild assumptions at him

Instigated

Threatened him

And then immediately proceeded to shut him out

He effectively gave no room for Azriel to open up. He didn’t even ask Azriel what was happening or what he felt. It was an immediate attack as soon as he walked into the office.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Being shut down instantly

“What of Mor?”

Antagonized and taunted

“you think you deserve to be her mate?”

Wild assumption

“So you’ll what? Seduce her away from him?”

Instigated + assumption

“Snarl all you want. But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.”

A threat

“Get out.”

And shutting him out

After throwing knives of assumptions at Azriel, trying to bait him with Mor, he threatened him and then kicked him out.

Rhysand is at fault for not creating a safe space for his brother to explain. Azriel merely gave him curt answers in response because that’s all he allowed him to do.

It’s only salt in the wound that we know that Rhys knows of Azriel’s self worth/esteem issues and still treated him this way. But given the time this BC took place, I’m cutting Rhys some slack.

Again, keep in mind that Azriel won’t fight for his love because he feels he has no right or reason to. Not right now.

Could his question about the sisters and the cauldron have been worded better? Sure. I think it was worded well enough though because it explicitly states the disparity that he sees in a logical fashion.

Azriel isn’t entitled, he doesn’t feel entitled.

The irony of it is that some people think he is all the while the man feels as though he doesn’t even deserve to be in any close proximity to Elain. To be around her and to see her light.

People fail to consider the emotional and mental state of Elriel, completely ignoring their words that made it so obvious of what they’re thinking and feeling and wanting all so they can determine what they want them to do instead.

Very ironic indeed.

#The irony that surrounds Elriel and their haters is insane #Literally everything they think and feel in the books is interpreted the exact opposite of what they are saying #every damn time #elriel #acotar #pro elriel #pro azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel

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fallinginvictus · 6 months ago

Note

do you have any wips at all for the time loop au? 🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday Andrew & Aaron Time Loop AU

I haven't had time to write lately so I only have a tiny little bit of the first part of chapter 3 and I'm not actually sure that's how it's going to stay when I actually post the whole chapter but I'll post anyways.

part one

part two

tw: character death, suicide, mention of drug abuse, Tilda, suicidal thoughts

“You're a parasite,” his mother had told him once when he was five, her head resting on the couch, her black eyes staring at the ceiling, her clouded mind lost in the high. “You suck everything out of me and then still expect me to give you more of my love.”

Aaron stood there for a second, his puffy little hands holding tightly onto the drawing he had been trying to show her, the mother he had drawn staring lovingly at him, the mother in real life taking a puff of her cigarette, her eyes never leaving the ceiling, never looking at her son.

“I just wanted to give you the gift that I made you,” he tried to defend himself with a pout on his lips, hoping his mother would want to look at it, look at him. Hoping she would smile and thank him for his thoughtfulness, for his kindness. Hoping she would acknowledge his existence.

“I just wanted,” his mother repeated mockingly, grey smoke slithering out of her lips. “That's all you do, Aaron. You want and you want and you want and you never once think about how much you take from people. As long as you get what you want you are willing to suck me dry.”

“I-I wasn't asking to take anything,” he said softly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a gift to make you happy.”

At those words his mother's gaze finally turned towards Aaron, her black eyes looking straight through him.

“To make me happy?” she scoffed before extending her long, pale fingers towards him. “Show me then.”

Aaron hesitated for a second, his hold on his precious drawing getting tighter, the paper wrinkling in his hands.

“Come on now,” his mother tilted her head, a grin painted on her thin lips, her coral-red lipstick a little smudged. “You wanted to show me my gift, so show me my gift.”

Aaron stepped forward, a spark of hope lighting inside of his chest, the drumming of his own heart echoing in his ears, a little smile forming on his lips as he carefully handed the drawing to his mum. He had worked on it for hours that morning while she was busy getting high, he had picked his best colours and tried his hardest to stay inside the lines. It was a drawing of his mum and Aaron holding hands, big and happy smiles drawn on their faces, colourful butterflies were dancing all around them and a big yellow sun was shining on the top-right corner of the page.

“This is me and you,” he said as he shily pointed towards the two stick figures on the paper and then he placed a kiss on her cheek, his soft lips meeting the hardness of her cheekbone, his warm hands gently holding onto her cold shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“You made this just for me,” she said, arching a perfectly trimmed brow.

“For my mummy,” he nodded while smiling at her. “A gift to make you happy.”

“Oh, to make me happy you say?” she chuckled. Her tone made Aaron take two steps back and he stumbled a little when his naked feet got tangled in the black carpet. His mother's eyes were cold, the black of her pupils drowning the light brown of her eyes, none of the softness that he sometimes saw in them was visible.

“Yes I-”

“So you didn't give it to me so that I could thank you and tell you how good you are?”

Aaron didn't reply. He hadn't made her the drawing to get compliments but a part of him had still hoped for them, had hoped to hear nice words and receive warm smiles. Had hoped for warmth and love, for attention.

“See Aaron?” she said, her eyes burning holes into his skin. “You pretend to be such a lovely boy who only wants to please others but you can't fool me, I'm your mother. I know you like nobody else does. I put up with it because I love you, but no one else other than me will ever be able to put up with your selfish behaviour, with your endless needs, with your wanting and taking. I can see right through you.”

☆☆

As he lays on his unmade bed, the darkness of his room engulfing his body and his mind, Aaron finally feels light and free, the weight of the sky no longer resting on his shoulders, the cloud of darkness that had for so long engulfed his lungs finally dissipating.

He stays there for a while, staring at the darkness, searching for a crack in his heart, an ounce of doubt in his blood, regret in his mind. He searches thoroughly and critically, every thought gets analysed and pulled apart, every emotion gets dissected and categorised, and only when he's sure that nothing at all has been overlooked he finally gets out of bed, ready to face the final day of his life.

He takes longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot streams of water untangle his muscles, warm his bones. He uses all of his shampoo and conditioner, until there is not one drop left inside the bottles. He lets the water wash over him until it starts to turn cold, until there is no hot water left at all. When he finally steps out of the shower, condensation has filled the air and all of the glass surfaces and mirrors are fogged over. Aaron prefers it that way, he doesn't want to look at his face, doesn't want the reminder of what he's leaving behind. Of who he's leaving behind.

When he looks at his phone it's thirty-two minutes past seven in the morning and Aaron's heart stops beating for a few seconds: Andrew had called him five times.

A few seconds later it rings again, the phone vibrating in his hand as the ringtone fills the air, covering the sound of his now racing heart.

“What? Is something wrong?” Aaron asks as soon as he picks up the phone, worry crawling under his skin and spreading throughout his body, rooting him to the ground. Andrew would never call him of his own free will, he would never contact him unless something had gone terribly wrong.

“Are you still clean?” is what Andrew says from the other side of the line, his voice sounding strange, strained.

“What?” Aaron's blood turns into ice, freezing his veins. His thoughts drift towards the hospital's supply room, towards what he knows will take place that afternoon. For a second, for a naive and stupid second, Aaron feels touched and warmth tries to melt his frozen veins: maybe Andrew still cares for him, he thinks, maybe he still wants for Aaron to be safe.

“Just answer. Are you still clean?”

“Yes, I am. Almost 10 years.”

“Do you feel like using again?” The question feels like a trick, a trap.

“No,” he says and smiles a little: he doesn't feel like using again but it doesn't mean he won't.

“Good. Don't,” Andrew says before hanging up the phone.

Once Andrew's voice is gone and only silence can be heard in his empty house, Aaron feels hollow again. He wants to call his brother back, to hear him talk about his day, his week, his life; he wants to tell him about his annoying neighbour and his stupid little dog that barks all day and night and won't let Aaron rest; he wants to go to a café and eat three different types of cakes and discuss with him which one is better; he wants Andrew to trust him and confide in him; he wants to confess his pain and tell Andrew that there is a tiredness in him that won't ever leave him, that drags him down. He wants Andrew to burst through his door and save him. He wants and wants and wants and he hates his mother for being right: he's a parasite that will never be satisfied. Aaron won't suck Andrew and Nicky dry like he did with his mother.

☆☆

When he was thirteen, Aaron discovered that he had a brother, a twin, and something that he thought had long been lost sparked in chest again after years of laying dormant between his ribs: hope.

The whole night he paced around his bedroom, up and down and down and up, his whole body buzzing with that long forgotten feeling, thoughts getting tangled in his brain as he tried to organise them, to make sense of them.

He had a twin brother.

He stood in front of the broken and dirty floor-length mirror at the side of his room and stared at himself for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes: in front of him stood his reflection, dark circles under his eyes, hollowed-out cheeks and sharp cheekbones, rosey lips and messy blond hair. Soon enough there wouldn't just be a mindless reflection standing in front of him, but a real-life human with feelings and thoughts, a brother that looked just like him, a twin that had once been part of him, with whom he had shared the first nine months of his life.

He walked towards his desk and ripped a page from his chemistry notebook. He stared at it for a while, thinking about what he should write. He knew he was an unlovable child, he knew his personality was unlikeable and his mere presence exhausting; he wasn't friendly and he wasn't funny, he was neither sweet nor cute and he had never once been good at making friends, but he was desperate, the need to make a good first impression was burnings in his veins.

He picked up a black-ink pen. He had stolen it from one of his classmates, it was new and expensive, the gel ink rich and deep.

Five different times he began to write his letter and five different times he ripped out the page, his hands shaking, his breaths getting erratic. Aaron had never been a writer, had never liked reading, had never cared about literature, often falling asleep during Mr. Jackson lessons and now he could do nothing but curse at himself for such oversight: he didn't want his brother to think of him as an illiterate idiot who couldn't string two sentences together.

Aaron had never felt more dumb than he did on that Thursday evening as he tried his best to present himself as someone that Andrew could love, someone that was worthy of love.

☆☆

“You look happy today Doctor Minyard,” is the first thing he hears when he walks in front of the nurses station. “Did something good happen?”

Aaron smiles at Nurse Mary, “Just a good day,” he shrugs. Maybe it is a lie or maybe it isn't, Aaron isn't sure anymore.

The day passes slowly and then all at once, a strange feeling buzzing under his skin, electricity licking up his veins. He wonders if it's anticipation or dread, joy or sadness. He wonders if maybe it's a mixture of every emotion that he has ever felt throughout his life. It had been so long since he had felt so much and so strongly; it had been so long since he had felt something other than emptiness and loneliness for a prolonged period of time. He can't decide whether he enjoys the feeling or if he despises it.

He feels guilty as he walks towards the supply room: all around him are those afflicted by unimaginable sicknesses and pains and every day and every night they fight as hard they can to keep their lives: they hold on tightly onto a thin rope that is on the brink of snapping, their knuckles white, their hands bloody, their muscles aching from the strain. And here Aaron is, forfeiting his life as if it means nothing.

The keypad beeps four times, short and loud, and then a third time as the door opens. Aaron takes a deep breath as he steps inside and closes the door behind himself, the dim light inside the small room casting shadows on his face, the stale air making him feel as if he's going to suffocate at any moment. There's a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and a slight shake overtakes his hands as he tightly grips the glass vial. He stops for a second as the syringe sinks into the grey rubber stopper, his laboured breaths the only sound inside the quiet room.

There is a second after Aaron sinks the syringe in his body where flashes of Nicky's warm smile and Andrew's concerned face dance behind his eyelids, a moment where he could change his mind, put the syringe away and walk out of that room alive. But the faces disappear as quickly as they had appeared, smothered by the knowledge that he would only suck them dry, that his wants and needs would only ever hurt them. No matter how hard he tries to keep his wants sealed inside of his chest, beneath his ribs, Aaron knows that they would always find a way to escape. He's a parasite, his existence would only ever bring pain to those around him.

He pushes the morphine in his veins.

That morning he had told Andrew that he didn't feel like using again and while it had been true it hadn't been the full truth. Aaron had long since learnt that a drug addict could never stop being a drug addict. He could get clean and he could stay clean, but the addiction would never fully leave him, a part of him would always crave the drugs, the high, like a broken bone that had never healed quite right and would ache when it rained and when it snowed.

When the morphine finally makes its home in his veins, Aaron welcomes her like an old friend. He lets himself feel the euphoria as it rushes through his body and down his veins, as it reaches his every cell. His body goes limp and he slumps against the wall, the syringe slipping from his fingers. Aaron had forgotten what happiness felt like but as he lays on the snow-white hospital tiles, he thinks he has finally found it again. Maybe drugs, he ponders, had been his only real friends.

His brain goes numb after a while, a dense fog making its way inside of his mind, clouding his thoughts, blurring his vision. His body feels heavy and he lets it fall to the ground, the sound of his head forcefully hitting the ground echoing inside of the silent room. Aaron doesn't even notice. Nothing hurts anymore, the constant and unbearable ache that is his loneliness now hidden inside of the dense fog that is clouding his brain.

Why couldn't you make me just a little lovable, Aaron asks God as he falls into darkness. Why do I always have to be alone?

#aaron minyard #aftg #aftg fanfic #andrew minyard #twinyards #all for the game fanfic #fanfiction #tilda minyard #twinyards time loop au

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vilavi-2 · 1 year ago

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Day 2: LoA Damian x Hero Raven

Damiraeweek 2023 @damirae-week

I'm working on a continuation of my Nanda Parbat story from Chap 23 of Feather Collection. I've still got a lot to get through, but here's a sneak peek! (sorry it's a lil rough)

It’s the middle of Raven’s second winter in Nanda Parbat, just as fiercely cold and cruel as the first. With the Himalayas locked in an icy grip, most stewards and soldiers have been reassigned to warmer, more productive posts. Only a token force of loyal elites remains at the compound to keep the elemental damage at bay and protect it from anyone foolish enough to brave the snowed-in passes, icy climbs, and whiteout stormy skies. And should all those defenses fail, it would only bring them face-to-face with Ra’s and Qalb al Ghul, ready to defend their seat of power.

It’s the best winter of his life, Damian decides, pale green eyes locked implacably on hers. Raven narrows her own back at him before dropping them to the fan of playing cards in her hands. She bites her lower lip thoughtfully, and he can feel the slight tap of her foot next to his thigh. She has so many tells, it’s hard to pick his favorite. Still, he doesn’t let his gaze wander to appreciate the bare legs on either side of him, or the flash of Raven’s chest and collar through the loosened pankou knots of her blouse. He instead sits cross legged in front of her with deliberate stillness until she plucks two cards from her hand and lays them face down on the mattress.

“Two,” she says with casual confidence. Damian deals them to her obligingly, smirking at the victorious glint in her eyes when she studies her new hand. It’s not that Raven is a bad liar, or easy to read. It’s that it never even occurs to her to hide from him anymore. As it should be, beloved. Damian looks at his own cards, and exchanges three of them, face devoid of expression as he returns to scrutinizing her.

“Well?”

“I’m in,” Raven replies in that same confident tone. “Robe.”

His lips tick up slightly and Raven betrays a slight hesitation, instantly looking back at her cards as if to make sure she saw them right.

“Call. Shirt.” He motions to her to show her hand and she bites her lip again before slowly turning them around. A flush of diamonds. Damian gives an approving nod. “That’s good,” he tells her. But judging from her light frown and the accusation in her violaceous eyes, she knows she’s beat. He shows her his hand, finally allowing himself a victorious smirk. Full House. “But not good enough.”

Raven’s glaring — pouting, really — but she still undoes the knots down her front and lets him push the garment off her shoulders. Only four rounds in and she’s down to her bra and underwear. Damian hasn’t even gotten his robe off yet.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" she grumbles, hugging her chest and rubbing her arms. A hearth and several well-fed braziers keep the worst of the cold out, but her skin is still breaking out in gooseflesh, disrobed as she is. Raven’s practically sitting in his lap already, so it’s easy to pull her the rest of the way, settling her against his chest and curling both arms hard around her. She burrows into him, as she always does.

“I have no idea why you agreed,” Damian answers, smiling to himself. “You have no aptitude for games, ya amar.” She grumbles an incoherent, indignant sound. He drops a kiss on her bare shoulder.

Nanda Parbat is on winter rations. Rice and millet, salted meat, pickled vegetables. None of her precious teas or anything resembling a delicacy has been able to get through in months. There’s a few cases of amber wine held in reserve to help prevent anyone up here from getting too bored or stir crazy. Not anyone’s idea of a good time.

Except that Raven's here, with him, and unlike last winter when they were still bound in secrecy Damian doesn't have to worry about a future where she might not be. Her crown hangs on one of their bedposts, glinting in affirmation of that fact.

Definitely the best winter of my life, he thinks.

#damirae #demonbirds #damian wayne #raven dc #damirae week 2023 #raven x damian #yes I kinda ripped off that scene from In Time

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ladymarycrawley · 2 years ago

Text

Winning memories - John Stones

Request: I’m just wondering u could do one w iris and aidan being older? like teens? + can you do a request based off todays trophy ceremony with John Stones and family please

Warning: none, just a lil something that came straight off my mind after this weekend’s events and I thought it would be nice putting these two requests together ✨

Tag list: @masonxomount @stonesyy @johnstonesfc, @prideofpd

(gif credits to @johnnstones )

Another season, another trophy for the supersonic team that is Manchester City. The third Premier League in a row arrived quite unexpectedly as Arsenal had been in the lead for almost the entire period but when the final victory sealed the verdict everything turned out to be marvellously amazing.

To say you were proud of your man didn’t give the exact idea of how he made your heart burst with joy and love. He and the little family you were creating were your everything to say the least, the reason behind your every smile and every sacrifice, big or small, life required.

The sparkle in his eyes and the cheerful smile on his face made all the sleepless, lonely nights you spent alone in your big bed without him tenderly snoring by your side worth it. Honestly it was hard not having him by your side whenever you needed him to help you with the everyday tasks such as doing the groceries or calming down your baby when she started crying inconsolably but if there was one thing you had learnt while growing up was to appreciate life day by day, without questioning future events that much; what will be will be.

So you tried to put aside all your worries to live the present moment to the fullest, standing there together with other players’ loved ones staring lovingly at John posing with his teammates as all of them wanted to take pictures with the trophy as they should, in order to have those celebratory moments impressed in everyone’s memory forever, not just in some camera roll.

The City defender turned his head to look for you as he wished nothing more than sharing that precious moment with the people he cared for most in life. He did all of that not only because playing football was a passion of his but also because he wanted to see that proud look in your eyes and that big smile on your daughter’s lips.

When his eyes met your figure amid the crowd he raised his hand, gesturing for you to join him.

After all that time together it still felt weird thinking about your life companion as some famous footballer so you still blushed and got rather shy in this kind of public situation.

“Dada!!” Your baby Iris left your hand to go and run towards her dad, whom she was so in love with, more than you if possible.

“Iris!” The pitch was really packed and you always feared your daughter might have found herself in some unpleasant situation you obviously wanted to avoid. But John was there, ducked with his arms out ready to take her and that motion reminded you you had nothing to fear as long as he was there to keep you safe.

You sighed as he took your baby girl in his arms, getting back up and holding her with his right arm only.

“Here’s my princess” John beamed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she was waving towards uncle Ruben.

Being a spectator of their interactions was among your favourite activities: she couldn’t live without her hero, her prince charming and he couldn’t think of his life without his little, blue eyed princess.

You stood right next to him, your head laid on his shoulder.

“Don’t panic, I got her” He whispered against your forehead, referring to moments earlier where you got worried over your daughter letting go of your hand. “You don’t have to panic, you know I got her”

Panicking was definitely something you better had to avoid while being pregnant with your second child. That little secret made those moments even sweeter, as your belly was still flat and nobody had to know about that sweet news of yours yet.

John kissed your skin right where he whispered his reassuring words, bringing a genuine smile to your lips. You kissed his cheek in return while murmuring all your love for him, complimenting him for the big result he just achieved.

His fellow defender Rúben joined your company to say hello to your baby and to you. He was such a good guy and Iris loved playing with him, not to mention how that made John jealous sometimes.

The three of you stood there watching Iris playing with Kevin’s and Kyle’s children and you didn’t have the slightest intention to let go of John’s hand that was resting on your hip, using his arm as a support for your slightly aching back.

“You both look so cute in your jerseys, in my jersey to be fair”

He kissed your cheek “You look so damn hot in my jersey” He moaned in your ear, doing that on purpose just to tease you.doing it on purpose just to tease you.

“John”

"I can't even praise my most precious trophy, aka my wife?"

His cheesy words made you roll your eyes as he bit on his lower lip, lightly smacking your bum.

"Speaking of your jersey, I have something to give you at home"

He looked at you with a frown before wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"Is it what I'm thinking about?"

"Wh - No, you perv. That's about your daughter"

John was still unaware of the special little present his baby girl made for him and you knew that moment would have been something you would have remembered for a long time…

"Well, at least my daughter didn't draw me with gray skin" He said looking at the drawing she gave him before going to bed, clearly referring to the drawing some children did of him and his other City teammates.

"She put you in your City jersey which is so similar to the original"

"Yeah…and what is this yellow thing here?"

"Erm…the sun? Oh no wait, she said it's a lion. It's for England"

"Ohh I see. She's as clever as her mother, I'm so lucky" He shook his head laughing as you playfully hit his arm.

"She surely is!"

"I'd really like to congrat her on her majestic work of art, what a pity she's sleeping"

"John Stones, if you wake her up I'll kill you"

"Oi okay, got it, don't get so aggressive"

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest, doing the same with your legs throwing them over his thighs.

"Did you turn the paper over?"

"Don't think so…why?"

"Do it"

John looked a bit confused but followed your instructions, seeing the letter you wrote him in cooperation with Iris.

"She can't write yet so I guess this is from you?"

"Not exactly, I just wrote about the endless love she has for her father"

"Mhh yeah sure"

"Read it and shut up" You giggled.

Iris just wanted to write something like "You're the best dad in the world xoxo" but I thought maybe scribbling down some more words would have been nicer.

I'm so proud of you (yeah, what an original thing to say to someone you love) but that's the truth: you make me proud every day, not just with the amazing milestones you're reaching throughout your career as a professional footballer but as a person too, as the man of my dreams who always makes sure we're doing alright.

You know it's hard waking up in the morning when you're not there with me, it's hard having to explain our little sunshine why her dad had to leave for a couple of days or a couple of weeks; it's hard comforting her when she screams your name looking for her favourite playmate that will never get tired of watching her signing the whole Frozen soundtrack on repeat, using words that didn't make it to the English vocabulary just yet.

Another hard thing for me is expressing my own feelings but you should know by now how much I love you, I'd be lost without you (another love sentence you've never heard of, I know). You’re an adorable, hot dork I couldn’t live without.

You make me a better person and I love it even when we argue (forget I said that) because it means you care and I care about you a lot as you're my everything, all the best I could've asked for in this crazy life”

While reading the letter to himself you could see John's eyes getting teary and you smiled when he searched for your hand to squeeze.

“Now enjoy all the celebrations for this amazing result you achieved for the third time in a row because we'll be here by your side celebrating the champion that you are, as we always do

We love you daddy, to the moon and back 💙❤️"

John got so emotional reading the whole letter he was at a loss for words, he needed some time to think about the right words to say.

"Aww are you crying? Or is there something in your eyes?" You joked with the biggest grin ever plastered on your face.

Your hand went to rest on his lower back to soothe him.

"Yeah, there's definitely something in my eyes"

You giggled, placing a peck on his covered shoulder first and on his cheek later.

A while passed from that moment that, as you imagined, you would cherish for years on end.

Iris was now a grown up baby - but still your baby - almost twelve and her brother Aidan - who was the size of a bean back then - was now ten so it felt as if a whole century had passed.

During one of your tidying sessions, you found that drawing Iris did together with your letter and couldn't help but shed a tear.

"Why are you crying?"

You turned in the direction of John's voice, smiling with gratitude. It was also thanks to him if you were living such a good life with your loved ones.

"I just found this letter, you know"

John took it to refresh his memory and smiled through the words.

"I'm gonna show this to Iris tonight and be the embarassing parent she hates me to be"

Your husband loved to be a tease and embarass your children, especially Iris who wasn’t a little girl anymore, but he would always say those were just acts of love.

You giggled, stretching out your arms to motion for him to help you up.

"You know she doesn't like it when we remind her of these things"

"I know, she's exactly like you"

“An adorable, gorgeous young woman?”

“Nope, more like a pain in gthe arse”

You scrunched up your face as he kissed your frown.

"But I love you no matter what" He retorted trying to save himself from your fury.

"Me too, Stonesy, even though you’re an embarrassing parent sometimes and a pain in the arse as well"

He rolled his eyes and smacked your bum.

"But I love you, every day more"

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otterskin · 1 year ago

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Does you actllty like odin because I thought everyone hated him.

...Why would people hate him? I struggle to understand that, even now. I have my theories, which I've spoken off in other places.

I think, and I don't like to say this, because there are certainly takes that aren't, but in general, that opinion is very juvenile. There's a desire to want to 'defend and protect' people from him, which betrays a lack of understanding of the dynamics in the films, and a tendency to side with children over adults, even grown children, and to see older people as symbolic of institutional power, as well as parental power, over them, and therefore a yoke that needs throwing off. There's a childish 'shut up, DAD!' to the criticism. More seriously, the desire to paint him as abusive reminds me of the problem of people confusing conflict for abuse, something that's a major issue in online spaces and real life. Outrage and extremism are rewarded and sought after, so everything is heightened. In that lens, a father who tried to do right by his children but who was in a unique circumstance because of his desire to challenge the status quo and fated enmity of two warrring peoples, a king who can't put the needs of his children over the suffering of his people and risk to his kingdom, now becomes a monster who delights in playing favourites and abusing them for kicks. It's disheartening.

There's precious little sympathy for characters like him, especially in this genre. Superhero fare is pretty black and white, and even characters like Loki rest pretty firmly in the 'good' side of that. But Odin is that rare character who not only doesn't play by that simple dichotomy, he doesn't get to live in a world so neatly divided. It's part of his isolation from the others. So usually, people see the gray and decide he must not be 'good', and if he's not 'good', he must be 'bad'.

The films have little time to explore him or his motivations or how he chooses to navigate his murky situation, and it's all the worse because he's a secretive person who actively disguises his motivations and goals. He's a minor character in screen time, but looms large over the plot and other characters' motivations, so most of what we see of him is what other people tell us he is. Most of which is, of course, untrue. That's the Odin that lives in their heads, and not the actual man, who is the rare character in the MCU you actually have to watch and pay attention to to understand. In universe, no-one bothers to do that - they are content with the version they've created to hate. So the audience thinks that version is also the real one, because it's easier to understand and categorize.

I love Odin, in mythology, and in the MCU. He's a much kinder person in the MCU for sure! But I'm glad that, even in a fairly straightforward world, they gave Odin no clear answers. He remains contradictory and deeply flawed, a thoroughly miserable person but with something compelling him to try and change the destined end of the world. How could I not love someone like that? How could people who say they like Loki not like a character who is so similar?

I get depressed when I encounter Odin haters. I feel like they've completely misunderstood and missed out on a fundamental part of the story, and I worry that if their sentiments infect the actual MCU, it will besmirch the efforts of those who came before and the humane story I fell in love with. Odin was not intended to be a bad parent or a bad person, and I don't think he is. He is intended to be someone that people IN UNIVERSE see as a full villain or as a full hero, but he is neither. He is a person who was faced with difficult choices, and he chose to do some radical things that many others of his kind would never do. He paved the way for a better future and better choices for others by defying the prejudices and traditions of his people, but because he was a trailblazer, he did not have the benefit of learning from others' examples, like Thor and Loki have because of him.

Comparing him to Thanos or other actually abusive parents is repellant. Never once have I seen anyone who claims to hate him actually engage with the character as depicted, nor how they would cut through the Gordian Knot of compromises the character had to contend with. They handwave away the moral questions as 'actually super easy to solve', which is something I abhor in fiction (it's also why I deeply dislike Spider-Man: NWH, which handwaves away the motivations and tragedies of villains from previous series). No, nothing was easy to solve about the choices presented to Odin, and I think the character had both logical and emotional rationale for his choices. He actually made pretty bold and forward-thinking plans, they just all tend to suffer from his fatal flaw - he thinks about them as logical, but they're really motivated by emotion that he keeps at arm's length, which leads to him showing vulnerability and being punished for it.

This is something that goes by so fast in the films, but I loved it because it is such a fundamentally male experience. Odin is someone being crushed under pretty much every expectation of masculinity, from man to warrior to father to husband to king, and whenever he tries to show regret, fallibility or vulnerability, the other characters find it disturbing and swiftly reject him, forcing him back into the performance and the misery that comes with it.

Odin may ponder what is the correct decision, but does not mistake that for what is the most moral decision. He is someone who is both logical and emotional but who hasn't integrated those two halves of himself together very well.

If you hate the character, I'd be happy to talk about it. It is okay to just not like characters! Including gray ones. But for me, I can really think about Odin, and I like that he can't be easily written up for a bland Fandom page that requires everything be spelled out or it 'doesn't count'. He exists in the between spaces of the story, and it is a very sad and lonely tale.

TL;DR : He's a complicated man in a simple story. In the Squid Game of Sugar Cookie, he got the Umbrella. I am sad that such a fundamental character to the foundation of the THOR franchise's quality and themes is so misunderstood and unappreciated by this fandom. I don't think you can love this franchise and not have some care for Odin.

#odin #Q&A #odin appreciation

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alchemyfire · 3 months ago

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I am so bad with titles... but yes, it is my fiction story

Years ago I wrote two short fictions, greatly influenced by watching the film Danton (1983), which was the only French Revolution film available to me at the time. So it is about the events that are included in the film, conceived from the point of view of two participants. I have now translated the first one, which is written from the point of view of Camille Desmoulins, to share with you. Please excuse any factual errors if you encounter them. (The second fic, written from Maximilien's point of view, will follow as soon as I translate it.)

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Can you hear me?! I was the one who started the revolution. I, Camille Desmoulins. Don't you remember? It was on the eve of the conquest of the Bastille, in the garden of the Palais-Royale. So many people and everyone was excited about my speech. I called the citizens to arms and they cheered and called me their leader. It was an exciting day. How could they forget that?

I don't get it, I can't understand. I don't deserve to die like this! I'm not a criminal, I'd never do anything bad. I have always defended only precious freedom. This is what we all wished for when we proclaimed the republic. But what kind of freedom is it if a citizen does not have the right to have his own opinion if it differs from the opinion of the government? Did we fight for the dictatorship that now reigns here? No, we did not. It was only against this despotism of the Committees that my articles were directed.

I tried to wake up Maximilien, my former friend, who unfortunately participates in this despotism, and to free him from the influence of that diabolical Saint-Just with the motionless mask instead of a face. All in vain. He had my last issue of the newspaper confiscated and the printer closed.

And what do you think? After everything he did, he still had the courage to come to me and try to convince me of my mistake!

„Camille, you have to understand. Your attacks on the government will not benefit the Republic, but its enemies. I know your intentions are good, but you are caught up in Danton's intrigue. His friendship with you is not sincere, he is just using you for his own ends. I want to help you, it's not too late.“

I didn't want to listen to him at all, but his speech really put me in a state where I began to doubt Georges and myself. Maximilien has such a special power, or rather his speech, that he can almost always convince you of his truth.

„What do you mean it's not too late? So what should I do?“

A slight smile of relief crossed his face and for a moment calmness returned to his eyes.

„All you have to do is publicly admit your mistake and revoke what you wrote against the government. I will stand by you if anyone wants to accuse you.“

„Do you think I have no conscience? That I will sell my friends for freedom? I don't mind dying, but I won't live as a traitor. Danton didn't write those articles, I wrote them. These are my opinions and I'm not going to revoke them just to save my life. I stand behind them, remember that!“ I replied angrily.

„Camille, listen. Your life is in danger and if you don't understand where the truth is, I won't be able to help you anymore. Consider it some more, please. I'm your friend and I'll do everything I can, but you have to help me a little. Do you understand?“

Yes, I understood him very well. He will kill us all, but he will have a clear conscience. His conscience is always the most important thing for him.

“Maxime, stop treating me like a child! I don't need your help. I don't need any babysitter. It is not your duty, as you probably think, to lead me on the right path. I didn't get lost, you did. You must understand where the likes of Saint-Just have led you. He has no heart and yours is slowly turning to stone as well. You didn't used to be like that, can't you see? You gave up the position of judge so you wouldn't have to send a person to die, it bothered you so much. And now? You are quietly cooperating with the reign of bloody terror. How you've changed.” He was clearly hurt by my words, but he didn't give up.

„No Camille, you are wrong. I haven't changed, times have. We are in a state of war. At such a time there is no room for sympathy with the enemies, unless we want to destroy the republic and ourselves. Know that when the revolution is complete and the enemies defeated, I will be the first to call for the law to be purged of blood.“

„So let's end it! The revolution has already achieved its goal. We won freedom, we built a republic and we are winning the war. So isn't it time to end it all - stop killing people? After all, we can live in peace and enjoy the sweet fruits of our revolution, we can be happy.“

Maximilien suddenly became sad and his voice was quieter now.

„How I'd love to do that, Camille, but it's not all done yet. We can't stop now, we'd lose everything we've gained so far. All around us, traitors and intriguers are waiting for their opportunity to harm us. Only a firm revolutionary government can prevent them from doing so. And the fact that we are winning now is mainly thanks to that government. Your articles undermine people's trust in Committees and destroy the unity of the republic. I know Danton agrees with them and supports you. I understand you trust him. He did a lot for the revolution, that's for sure. People like him. But was he really doing it for the good of the cause or for himself? See how his wealth has grown over the past few years. He cares for the welfare of the revolution like he cares for a cow that gives him milk, as soon as someone offers him more for its meat, he cuts it without mercy.“

I felt the need to defend Danton, but I couldn't think of anything to say.

„Georges is my friend. How can you talk about him like that?“

„We have prooves, Camille. He negotiated with the enemy, accepted money from England and from refugees and, together with other corrupt people, robbed the republic. Apparently realizing that he was exposed, he decided to use his popularity to discredit the government and end the terror. He would thus avoid punishment, he would be able, as you said a moment ago, to enjoy the fruits of the revolution, and at the same time he would have a great merit in the destruction of the republic, for which the enemies would certainly pay well.“

I didn't know what to think and what to do. There was a sudden confusion in my mind. I couldn't believe it, I didn't want to believe it. Also, who would easily admit to being cheated on? I didn't show what was going on inside me and stubbornly insisted on my point.

„I will not listen to you slandering my friends anymore. If that's all you're here for, you've come in vain. So please go away and don't waste your precious time here. I'm sure they are waiting for you in the Committee and I still have a lot of work to do.“

Without a word he turned and left. There was pain and disappointment in his eyes. I felt like I had probably made the biggest mistake of my life, but I just couldn't help it.

They arrested us that night. I began to despair. So does this mean the end? I will never be able to hug my beloved Lucille again. She will be left alone with our son, who won't even know his father. But I only have myself to blame. Why did I believe Danton? What have I done to my family? I was angry with myself and with Georges.

When they brought him in, I wanted to pounce on him and scold him for his behavior. But I looked into his eyes and saw that he was completely devastated. As if it wasn't him at all, the energetic Georges Danton. He obviously didn't expect us to actually be arrested. He relied too much on his reputation and Maximilien's support. Looking at him, I concluded that there was no point in accusing Georges or myself of anything now. We are both in the same situation and we will both meet the same end. Instead of reproaching him, I silently hugged him.

„Camille! Don't look so defeated. They haven't condemned us yet, there will be a trial and there it will be shown who has the real power. The people stand behind us and not even the revolutionary tribunal dares to sacrifice us.“

„How can you be so sure? You know very well that public opinion is easily swayed.“ Lacroix, who was in the same room with the others, did not seem to share Danton's optimism.

„Friends, trust me. As long as I can speak, the people will stand behind me.“

Yes, we have no choice but to trust Danton. Nothing but his voice will save us. Still, someone pointed out, "What if they prevent you from speaking?" Danton, who had already regained his life force and expression of determination to fight, only guessed, "Then God protect us."

But God apparently had something else to do. Although in my case he made one more attempt. Maximilien Robespierre came to see me in prison. He tried to talk to me again. I think he was very worried about getting my blood on his hands. He was ready to clear me in front of everyone, even if his reputation might suffer. He behaved like a martyr who takes upon himself the guilt of sinners and saves them from destruction. After all, he's always done it, apparently he's obsessed with saving the world and doesn't care if anyone wants it.

I didn't want that. I did not want to accept life by grace, after all I have the right to live! So there is no need for anyone to give it to me again. Every person has the right to life, so why not me? I am not guilty of anything, although in politics innocence does not matter.

Whether it was Georges Danton's plot or not, I wrote nothing but the bare truth. It is sad that the republic, where freedom is supposed to reign, is being strengthened by its total suppression. If this is indeed true, then even my death will benefit the republic. And if justice is on our side, we will die defending freedom—what a beautiful end to life. So for me there is no other option…

The trial before the tribunal turned into a farce. Fouquier, you know that dreaded prosecutor, made it clear that the outcome was a foregone conclusion and that the hearing of our case was a mere formality. Danton's eloquence, which as always drew loud cheers from the courtroom crowd, was certainly not to his liking. In utter desperation, they devised another plot. I was really scared when I found out. Not of me, but of my dear Lucille—for she was accused of a conspiracy organized to save us.

At that moment it was clear what would follow. They have made it impossible for us to further participate in the court proceedings, so we will be condemned; and my little Loullou will soon meet the same end as us. And I—I will be the cause of her death! I couldn't stand it. I have lost all hope - to hell with all politics and revolution, to hell with that accursed republic of virtue that costs so many human lives and so much suffering. Anyway, it's just Maximilien's fantasy - pure utopia! Nonsense.

Now I have the last journey ahead of me. Do you believe in miracles? All day I was hoping for something in vain. Something has to happen. God help me... or will you? You're not going to let me die like that, are you? Do something, I've been fighting for you all my life!... No? You won't stick up for me, will you? You are all blinded and manipulated...So I wish that when you are in my place, there will be someone you will not be indifferent to. Goodbye! ... Why am I so afraid?... Loullou, forgive me!

#french revolution #fiction #camille desmoulins #robespierre #georges danton #fan writing #frev #maximilien robespierre

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kestalsblog · 7 months ago

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Normally I post fanfics only on Ao3, but I reeeeally wanted to get to write something Stanman for Mermay, so the below scene is Tumblr-exclusive. I haven't had much time, so this is just a quick one-shot scene featuring AU college Cartman and merman Stan. This is not a full fic I intend to develop as of right now, but just a drabble scene for fun 🧜‍♂️

Enjoy!

Part Two

TW: very slight language and mention of injuries and fear (nothing gruesome). Also this is an angsty scene

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When his friends told him about South Park’s latest attraction—a merman that had been captured in the Pacific and shipped to Colorado—Eric was only mildly interested. Weird, unbelievable shit happened in South Park practically every day, so a merman wasn’t exactly the thrilling spectacle everyone was making it out to be. He certainly wasn’t as entertained by the idea of visiting the dine-and-view restaurant where the merman was supposedly being kept on display as Kyle and Kenny were.

Ordering seafood in an aquarium was a revolting enough idea, but sushi with a merman a few feet away? Jesus Christ. Eric thought those steakhouses where you got to watch bulls run around while you devoured their kind was bad enough. Like, hey guess where you’ll end up if you’re not entertaining enough? That’s right! My dinner plate.

God, at least he was trying to be a better person than he used to be, and now his friends were pulling him right back into sadistic hobbies.

“I can’t believe you two are seriously interested in this,” he complained on the car ride over with Kenny and Kyle.

“Well, you have to admit, it’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime chance,” said Kyle from the passenger’s seat because of course Cartman had been relegated to the back.

“Hell, it’s a Friday night and we’re still in college. We have the rest of our lives to care about lame shit like this,” he whined. “Defend me here, Ken.”

“I gotta know if this is some kind of scam,” Kenny said, obviously more focused on the road than the conversation. “Butters went last week and said it made him feel sick.”

“It’s probably just a dude wearing a plastic tail,” said Eric.

“Or maybe his legs were cut off and it was surgically implanted onto his torso,” said Kyle with a melodramatic shudder that transformed somehow into a laugh. “Only in South Park, right?”

“Amen to that,” Kenny joined in, but Eric’s sour mood didn’t lift. Fridays were precious days, and instead of partying or doing something worthwhile, he’d be spending his evening at someone’s hoity-toity swindle. And even if it was true, and there was a real merman in South Park, what did it matter? He pressed his forehead against the chilled glass of the window and watched the streetlamps pass by his vision.

----------

The first thing Eric noticed in the restaurant was the overpowering aroma of expensive food (thank God Kyle was paying), and the second was how many children were gathered about a massive cylindrical tank in the center of the place. It wasn’t a restaurant he knew despite having lived in South Park his entire life because the establishment had been built for this purpose alone, apparently.

“I don’t see anything but water,” he said while a finely-dressed waiter led them to their table, which was an inconvenient distance from the tank.

“Me neither.” Kenny strained to the tips of his toes. “Should we go check it out closer?”

“Let’s order first,” insisted Kyle, but Eric found it difficult to focus on ordering with that large, ominous tank in his peripheral vision.

It was simply a tube constructed into the center of the restaurant that spanned from the floor to the ceiling, and though it looked massive at first glance, Eric wondered if a human-sized creature could thrive within the space. Maybe mermen were smaller? The water inside was impossibly blue, probably dyed to look more appealing. Small glittering lights were implanted throughout the inside of the tube to create a magical underwater atmosphere, but Cartman thought it felt more eerie and unnatural.

After their orders were placed, Kyle agreed they should go check out the main attraction. “There are definitely a lot of people here,” he observed as they abandoned their table to head toward the tank.

“Shit, there really is someone in there,” gasped Kenny once they were closer.

Eric’s attention went immediately toward the small children pressed against the tank. Several of them were knocking their fists hard into the glass while they chanted, “Hey, look at me! Over here, fishy! Over here!”

Fucking rude. “Where are their parents?” he muttered, but Kyle and Kenny were shoving their way past him.

“Oh my God,” he heard Kyle say through his teeth.

Unafraid to push a child out of the way, Cartman made room for himself and felt his breath halt almost painfully when he saw someone sitting slumped in the furthest corner of the tank. Because of the shape, there was nowhere the person, no, merman, could sit without someone right behind the glass, but he’d done his best to conceal himself into a small ball.

If he was just a person wearing a fake tail, he looked extraordinarily authentic. Even from where he was standing, Eric could distinguish the individual scales on the tail. The scales were all different shades of blue, with a pale, iridescent dominant hue that reminded Cartman of crystals. Under the lights, the tail twinkled like ice in sunlight. And if he looked close enough, he was certain he could see small veins pulsing in and out across the anxiously flickering tailfin.

“It can’t be real, right?” Kenny said with concern next to him, but Eric couldn’t find the voice to answer. His focus was locked on the merman who sat with his arms crossed around his abdomen and his shoulders hunched. He looked as if he was physically trying to become smaller, even though Eric was pretty sure that if he stretched out to his full height with his tail included, he’d be too large for the tight space.

He was too pretty to be real—and not just for the features that were nonhuman, but the ones that made him human as well. Black hair swirled around his ears and cheeks in soft coils like an oil spill haloing his head. Eric couldn’t catch many glimpses of his face aside from the few moments when he jolted after a particularly loud knock on the tank. Only then would he look up with wide, alarmed eyes that were a devastatingly gorgeous shade of blue that Eric had never seen on anyone else.

“This doesn’t seem right, what they’re doing to him,” piped up Kyle, and Eric recognized the heat behind his tone. For once, Eric had to agree with him. The merman was clearly terrified, his pupils shrinking and then expanding again with each flash of a camera against the glass. His chest expanded and contracted with the movement, and Cartman didn’t miss the widening of what appeared to be openings on his skin, surely gills, across his throat.

“Hey, guys, our food is probably coming soon,” Kenny said with dampened spirit. Eric hadn’t even realized how long they’d been standing and staring.

“I’m going to talk to the manager of this place after we eat,” snapped Kyle. “If I hadn’t already paid, I wouldn’t be giving my money to these freaks.”

“You’re the ones who wanted to see this,” Eric reminded them, but they didn’t seem to hear him as they went back to the table in their own storm cloud of negative thoughts.

But Eric couldn’t make himself go back to eat dinner, which was a surprise even to him, considering food was usually his go-to for fighting off the terrible gnawing feeling he was experiencing right now. All he could do was stay in place and watch the beautiful merman thump his tailfin uselessly against the bottom of the tank again and again. The sight reminded of him of some poor traumatized dog who’d been kept in the puppy mill for too long.

“Fishy! Look, look!” the kid next to Eric shouted, smacking so hard on the glass that the merman jerked and actually placed his hands over his ears. His eyes spasmed wide and then squeezed shut in an obvious pain response. The arm movement revealed delicate, blue webbing between fin-like structures on either side of his wrists. Eric was certain he’d never seen a prettier creature in his life.

He glared at the child. “Hey, knock it off. Can’t you see you’re bothering him?” he snapped, not caring if he upset some snot-nosed punk kid.

“You’re no fun,” pouted the kid before sulking off and giving Cartman better access to view the merman. When Eric moved closer, the merman slowly reopened his eyes and gave him a quick, panicked look before shrinking deeper onto the floor again. The sight of him twining his tail around himself with desperate fear sent shards through Eric’s heart, especially when he considered that holding someone like this hostage for money was exactly something he would have done when he was younger.

Now, though, when he looked closer and saw the bright pink lacerations across the merman’s tail, he felt more than sick to his stomach. The wounds were clearly fresh and extended all the way to his tailfin, where some of the fine partitions were shredded completely. Eric must have been initially too hypnotized by the merman’s beauty to notice the injuries, probably a byproduct of his capture.

“Cartman!” Kyle’s voice broke over the chitter chatter surrounding him. “Get back over here, dude. Management sucks and won’t listen to me.”

He knew he had to go back, but walking away from the merman was difficult. When those sea-colored eyes, framed with long, feathery lashes, finally shuddered back to meet his, Eric froze all over again.

The merman’s face was a little too narrow and pallid, he thought, despite the small shimmers of silvery blue smeared across random patches of his skin like makeup. His hair was so dark in contrast to his skin that it truly resembled black water mingling with that abnormal blue dye.

The merman looked so beautiful and sad, and it made Eric even sadder to think he probably wouldn’t feel this sorry for him if he weren’t so beautiful and didn’t look so human. A few hours ago, he hadn’t given two shits, but now that the merman was watching him with terrible resignation while dozens of camera flashes bounced off the tank’s glass, he cared. He cared a lot.

It took every ounce of willpower to turn from the merman’s pale, hopeless face, and go back to Kyle and Kenny then, and even then, he paused to look back. The merman was in the same position, but still looking at him too.

(South Park and its characters obviously do not belong to me. Creators are Trey Parker and Matt Stone. This is intended for fun use only, not monetary.)

#south park #stanman #south park stanman #eric cartman #stan marsh #mermen #mermay #fanfic #south park fanfic #scene #one shot #drabble #mermaid

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guardian-angle22 · 2 months ago

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I am so upset. They could have tied this into Owen being obsessed after 9/11 and that triggering TK, especially since they were talking about the horse being triggered, but they're not connecting them at all. I started watching the show because of the relationship between Owen and TK, but they're not even in any scenes together anymore. It would be nice to see them even knowing each other, let alone being father and son.

I'm sorry you're upset! I know it's rough when a show you really enjoy doesn't delve into the aspects you find most enjoyable or doesn't focus on the the parts that drew you to it in the first place. I've certainly struggled with the things the show has chosen to focus on in the past as well. I think I've just come to a place of acceptance that this show is working with limited time for characters while balancing the emergencies of the week and will just sometimes go in directions that aren't my favorite. and the fandom spaces are where we go to further explore the parts we wished got more emphasis or exploration.

Regarding this specific plot... I just don’t think they made that connection because frankly this episode wasn’t about TK being triggered. It was about Carlos needing to realize how precious his time with TK is and how much he needed to shift his priorities because of it. It was about TK recognizing signs of addiction and obsession within Carlos' behavior and doing his best to address those things in the most supportive and loving way possible. It was about the two of them as a unit working through their problems together. and I feel like they portrayed those things pretty well.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely think the show has made some clear parallels between Carlos and Owen. In fact, I made a whole gifset about it before the episode aired that you can find here! But they also already tied those two things together... in 4.18. Carlos and Owen had a scene together and Owen said the following to him:

"Let me tell you something about obsession. You might think it's sustaining you, that it's giving you purpose. But what it's really doing is just eating alive everything that is good in your life and believe me… eventually there's nothing good left."

Carlos' arc thus far this season has essentially been the same arc he went on in 4.18 but less condensed and with more room to breathe. and while I don't love that Carlos has basically ignored Owen's advice, I do fully understand the writers' choice to not recycle the story in the exact same way and have it involve Owen again.

As far as TK and Owen, it really feels like the arc with Jonah & Enzo coming to town in eps 7-9 are going to bring Owen and TK back into the same orbit and is going to result in some great scenes between the two of them. I personally cannot wait to see the full circle of their relationship from season one when TK told Owen that he became a firefighter because he wanted his father back (and Owen just steamrolled over it to defend himself) to this final season when they finally get to address those things and I think heal from them and come out the other side with a stronger father/son bond because of it. Hopefully you get to enjoy those things too!

#anon answered #911ls ask #negativity discourse all the bad words #also that horse witnessed its owner die the same way owen watched his brother die #the horse is very clearly tied to owen's grief and HIS trauma

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 1 year ago

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Top 5 ships in 2023?

Hi 🤗 Thank you for this ask!

I don't know if you mean real life ships, and I don't really go there. I like watching some bits of fanservice and I adore the friendships of some of those onscreen couples, but I don't ship them.

So for this list I chose some of my favorite pairings these year 😊

The latest one, but already one of the most beloved ones:

Mhok and Day from Last Twilight

They are cute behind the scenes and the fanservice is decent, but more on the friendship scale, which I really like. And those two characters... I am in love with them, indisputable. The way Mhok makes Day smile and the way Mhok looks at Day... my heart can't take them anymore. I love them so much! They give me such a good feeling and I enjoy them so much on my screen.

Next one is a couple I really like behind and infront of the camera:

Yang and Phumjai from Love In Translation

The series was such a gem. And I adore those two behind the camera so much! My TikTok-feed was full of them. They have such a deep and precious friendship and this shows on screen too... They were so comfortable with each other and the way Yang looked at Phumjai with his heart eyes... so cute!!!

My favorite side-couple is next on this list:

AiDi and ChenYi from Kiseki: Dear To Me

I don't like the taiwanese fanservice that much. There is too much skinship for me that feels very much set up and only for the views. But I adored Aidi's and ChenYi's relationship. The hurdles they had to overcome and the fact that AiDi loved ChenYi for years... it all was so heartwrenching and when they finally got together they were the sweetest psycho-husbands ever and I would defend them til the end!

Some might forgot them already, but for me they live rent free in my heart:

Kawi and Pisaeng from Be My Favorite

I love these two! There is not much fanservice, but those two can sing and there are some beautiful videos of those two jamming together! And Kawi was my little puppy from the first time I saw him on screen and Pisaeng is just the best! I love their relationship and their journeys to finally be the best versions of themselves.

I close this list with my favorite show and my favorite pair from 2023:

DongWook and DoHyun from A Breeze Of Love

Typical for korea, there wasn't that much fanservice, but as I said before, I don't care so much about that. I loved their on screen presence and they had fantastic chemistry. They wanted each other and I was so there for them wanting each other! I love the friends-to-enemies-to-lovers-trope. I can't say, what exactly makes me so weak for them, but I could rewatch this series over and over again and still enjoy the shit out of it!

Ask me Top 5 BL Anything from 2023

#asked #bl game #ask game #anything bl 2023 #bl drama #bl series #thank you so much for this ask 💙#josi answers #last twilight #love in translation #kiseki: dear to me #be my favorite #a breeze of love

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berberriescorner · 2 years ago

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No way rios precious daughters aren’t all daddy’s girls(much to y/n’s dismay)

Yes! You love seeing how he is with them. I’m picturing at least three girls. He’s outnumbered and deals with different personalities/age ranges.

Your oldest is almost a preteen and already boy crazy. In fact all three of them have their own little crushes at the moment.

Daddy, how old do I have to be before I can start dating? Your smile grows wide, as Rio’s eyes damn near pop out. He hears you snicker and mugs you. Shrugging your shoulders you join in, “Yes, daddy? How old does our sweet girl have to be,” you question smirking. “You have your whole life to worry about boys, darlin’. Focus on those books.” Your daughter huffs, “so basically never?” Rio chuckles, “I knew you were smart.” She huffs and walks away. You kiss your teeth, “you can’t stop her from growing up, Rio.” He gripes back, “I’m not.” Rolling your eyes, you finish, “hold on too tight, and we’ll be grandparents by the time she’s sixteen.” Rio gets the last word, “she’ll be a single mother then. Baby daddy won’t be here long enough to experience fatherhood. The OG got little baby though. Grandfathers make good father figures, do they not,” he smirks.

The middle child is your wild child. She’s big on loyalty and loves protecting her family/friends. Sound familiar? Little Rio in the making. The last parent/teacher conference ended in disaster. Things started off great. She was getting good grades and very respectful. However, she was having a bit of trouble keeping her hands to herself. “So you’re saying my child runs around hitting people on purpose,” you questioned her teacher. All set to apologize for her behavior. You were surprised when the teacher said, “not exactly.” The two of you looked at her, waiting for an explanation. “She tends to be very protective over her friends. Y/C/N has gotten into several fights. We have a zero tolerance policy. No matter who instigates, both children are disciplined.” Rio chuckled sarcastically, “let me get this straight, teach. My daughter’s getting reprimanded for defending people. Is that what you’re telling me, darlin’?” Your husband proceeded to tell the teacher where she could shove her zero tolerance policy. Trying not to laugh in her face, you practically had to drag Rio out of the classroom. Needless to say baby girl had to switch schools.

Then there is your sweet little baby girl. She’s a hustler like daddy. Knows how to sweet talk her way out of trouble. She’s so damn adorable that she has everyone wrapped around her finger. Including her sisters and especially daddy. The two of you had just gotten into it. All thanks to the little finesse queen herself. It started when she asked to watch YouTube on her iPad. “Momma, can I watched Paw Patrol on my pie-pad,” she asked batting her lashes innocently. She knew the answer, but dared to ask anyway. Momma wasn’t falling for that cute little baby face today. “Absolutely not. Remember the conversation we had last night? I told you no iPad today.” Your daughter tried getting you in your feels with a pout and lip quiver. “But, mommyyy.” You replied, “Don’t mommy me, little girl. You did this to yourself. I told you to turn that iPad off and go to bed last night. What did you do? Waited for me to leave and got right back on it. Then had the nerve to play like you were sleeping, when I came to take it from you.” Knowing you were right, she did what any good finesse Queen would do. She waited for you to busy yourself with cooking. Twenty minutes later, the food was ready. You called the girls to the table. “Where’s your baby sister? She’s ignoring me cause she mad, huh?” Your eldest informed you she was with Rio in his office. Supposedly she went in there to color while he got work done. It was cap and you knew it. Heading to his home office to retrieve them both for dinner. You weren’t shocked when you found little shady boots. There she was chilling in her daddy’s lap watching cartoons on his iPad. “Now you know good and well she’s not suppose to be on that. I don’t care if it’s yours, Christopher. No iPad includes anyone else’s. Just for that, neither one of you get dessert. Matter of fact since y’all besties and all. Sleepover in baby girl’s room. Daddy’s going to be sleeping on your floor! Yay!” You cut your eyes at Rio, turning to head back to the kitchen. You grumbled over your shoulder, “dinner is ready come and eat.”

Then there is you. Although you love being a momma to three beautiful girls. Your heart craves more children. “Rio let’s have one more baby.” He looks at you, trying to hold back a smile. “We got a house full already, mama. You sure you want another one?” You reply, “Yes! I want a little boy. You got your daddy’s girls. I want a momma’s boy.” Chuckling, Rio teases, “you feeling left out, mama? Don’t daddy always make time for you?” You tilt your head to the side, crossing your arms. “Boy, stop! I just want another baby. Nobody feeling left out. Come on let’s try for a boy. Please, daddy,” you beg in a baby voice. “You got a mama’s boy. What about Marcus, darlin’?” Your lips poke out, arms still crossed. “I don’t get to keep Marcus though. I have to share him with his momma,” you giggle. Moving closer to him, you wrap your arms around Rio. Standing on your toes, you leave kisses along the side of his neck. Kissing up to his ear, you whisper, “pretty please, daddy? Think of all the fun we could have trying to conceive.” Rio looks around the house, “everybody’s at a sleepover right?” You nod your head yes. “Bring your fine ass on,” Rio groans, dragging you toward the bedroom.

Sorry if this was a bit long. I kind of just ran with it. Hope you like it! I don’t usually do HC’s 😆.

#berberriescorner #berberries asks #i love my mutuals😍#omg i love thissss #asks open #fic inspo #rio good girls #good girls rio #daddy rio #sweet asks #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!reader #rio x reader #rio good girls fanfiction

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haliteatiger · 2 years ago

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This my "Tav", Silence. I'm still sorta working out her background details, but for now it's safe to say she's had it pretty rough.

Check below the cut for a lot of rambling and pointless, self-indulgent headcanons.

Her name comes from the fact that she didn't speak for the first few years of her life, instead learning to play the violin and communicating through her art. Someone started calling her "Little Silence" and it just sort of stuck. She didn't know her parents, but was adopted by a noble who saw her as a unique "pet" given her unusual appearance - even for a tiefling - and her musical and artistic talents.

Unfortunately, the guy was bad with money, and ended up gambling away a good portion of whatever Silence earned, in the end becoming desperate enough to try and auction off her virginity when she came of age. Silence, obviously, was not going to stand for this, and managed to escape - possibly killing the man who bought her in the process, she wasn't sure and frankly doesn't care.

With only her violin and a precious few belongings in tow, Silence made her way to Baldur's Gate and was eventually found by a gang of performers and thieves (that I have yet to come up with a name for) where she learned ways on how to survive on the streets and defend herself with her art. Now in her late 20s, and poised to set out on her own due to some complications within her social circle, she was taken aboard the Nautiloid.

There are two sides to Silence - one is kind of quiet, observant, and sensitive. She has a way of simply blending into the background if she doesn't want to be observed (she's good at Stealthing, I guess), and the other is her more or less "bard persona", which is outgoing and charismatic. Contrary to her name, Silence can be quite talkative when the mood strikes her. It's usually when she becomes angry, flustered, or anxious where she seems to forget words entirely and has a hard time articulating herself, which has led into some dramatic situations when she lashes out more physically.

Overall, she's easygoing, and tries very hard not to let her emotions get in the way of her making decisions, and so often comes off as more pragmatic than anything. She's also pretty accepting of those around her even if she is, in actuality, slow to trust. I guess you could say she's highly manipulative as a defence mechanism. So it's not that she lies to people, per se, but she can come off as liking someone more than she does if only to deflect harm from herself. She is not a people-pleaser, however, and has very defined boundaries in terms of how far she's willing to concede to someone, especially a stranger. She's excellent at reading people (most of the time), acts more confident than she seems, knows a little about a lot of topics, and is always eager to learn more. She can be impulsive and rude without meaning to, and has something of a sarcastic and dry sense of humor that always seems almost prepared in advance whenever she snaps back at someone. Her charisma and wit often seem to leave others with the mistaken impression that she knows what she's doing in any given situation, and thus has often been beset with expectations she's sure she's more often than not fallen short of. Somehow, people just seem to think she's the most competent one in the room because she talks a good talk. Due to her dual upbringing, she is capable of blending in with high society as well as she does low. Silence will generally act within her own best interests or those of her friends, but it doesn't really take much to persuade her to do the right thing.

A good example would be when she and the gang arrive at the druid hold and is asked to help the tieflings. Initially she denies getting involved until mocked by Astarion for "turning her back on the needy", at which point, just to annoy him, agrees to help. (Although, when pressed she admits she mostly did it because she realized they needed some things in the area anyway and helping them could be beneficial to their cause). She can have kind of an impish sense of humor and while she doesn't like to see others get hurt, probably does take more pleasure in watching her enemies die writhing in agony than she'd care to admit.

Random fun fact: Silence is a feral tiefling, and her tail is supposed to be reminiscent of a heraldic unicorn's or lion's tail. She often carries it with a curl or S shape as she has a somewhat chronic fear of it being stepped on or pulled. She also has cat-like eyes (that I've had to mod in, but really wish Larian would include them naturally in the game because why not??? Same with more variations in tails...)

Other fun fact is that Silence has a Secret Power in which she's capable of using her tadpole to influence those around her when she plays a song infused with a particular strong emotion. Unfortunately, she cannot replicate the song later, at least not in the same way or with the same impact as when she played it. This generally acts like an empathic attack on those who can see and hear her, impressing upon them the emotion she's attempting to convey through song which can manifest in the audience's minds as how she imagines it - so a full orchestra if that's what she's hearing in her head. As one can imagine, the situations in which this is actually useful are few and far between, as it would require the proper conditions and emotional preparation for it to be effective, although I like to imagine she has used it a few times on a smaller scale to calm tensions in the group when camping some nights.

Relationships with the other NPCs:

Lae'zel - Admires her strength, but is suspicious of her motivations mostly because she seems more than capable of finding this creche by herself, but instead wants to drag the rest of them along with her. Either she's hiding an altruistic side to her or something else is going on. Silence tolerates Lae'zel's nasty attitude, but also can't help but find her and her people's culture fascinating. She often tries to overlook the Gith's biting tongue in order to inquire more about it. It's a mystery to Silence what Lae'zel truly thinks of her, but it's probably nothing good (even if she seems to get bonus points every time she shows an interest in her people.) About the only time she gets anything resembling a compliment from her is when she agrees with her about the use of their tadpole or if she does something worth being commended for in battle. Otherwise, Lae'zel doesn't seem to be terribly fond of Silence's violin playing as the high-pitched tones seem to bother her.

Gale - Gale and her get along famously, and, next to Wyll, finds him probably one of the easiest to talk to in the group. They both share a great interest in magic and, at times, a similar sense of humor (which is to say she's about as bad at puns as he is). They're both well-travelled and well-educated, and if she doesn't know or understand something magic-related, she's quick to ask Gale for guidance, and enjoys seeing him in his element. Gale seems fond of her wit, open-mindedness, and appreciation and interest she takes in the world around her and those that live in it. She seems to have a genuine interest and appreciation for everyone in the group and admires her dedication to watching their backs, even if it's obvious she doesn't entirely trust any of them. He likes that she seems to know a surprising amount about wizardry despite not being one herself - at least enough to ask advanced questions about things that he might consider to be outside the interest of most bards, as well as the fact that she isn't easily fazed by things that would turn most people's stomachs or make them balk in disbelief. As could be evidenced by her rather extensive anatomy studies on the bodies of their fallen enemies ("It's free art references!")

Admittedly, Silence was a bit shocked and uncomfortable to learn about Gale's history and his need to consume magic artifacts, but as he seems sincere in his efforts to keep it under control, chooses not to worry about it and does what she can to support him, which he greatly appreciates. There's still that little nagging voice in the back of her mind, however, even if he's friendly enough to get her to forget that at times. She has to remind herself on occasion that she doesn't really know him.

Shadowheart - Shadowheart and her also get along very well, even if they're both somewhat guarded around each other still, and Shadowheart, when not in the right mood, can be very difficult to talk to just in general. But, it's Silence who is first to lower her defenses, and speak to the Shar acolyte candidly. Silence finds the two of them have a lot in common in terms of how they approach most situations - pragmatic but always erring to self-preservation or that of the group's. Shadowheart seems to appreciate Silence's amicability, willingness to compromise, and respects that, even though she is friendly, she isn't naive about it. It also helps that Silence doesn't seem to have a problem with her being a worshipper of Shar and respects her desire for privacy even without being prompted. Silence appreciates how much of a team player Shadowheart really is, with her main interests usually centring around maintaining the group and essentially keeping everyone content enough not to turn on one another.

Astarion - Even though she enjoys picking on him from time to time, it's almost always in a way that he can also appreciate. She finds it more fun when the other person is in on the joke as well. This can and does include flirting, but thus far, she's made it pretty clear that she perceives it as simply something to laugh about (even if he might be absolutely serious about it). Unfortunately, at least initially, she also finds Astarion to be one of the hardest to read among the group, and picking on him isn't something she started doing until she knew where his boundaries lay. Up until then, she approached him delicately, allowing him to lead the conversations and learning what she could along the way, which, fortunately, he seems more than happy to do. As a result, he takes her quite a bit longer to translate than the rest, and doesn't feel entirely comfortable around him for a long time to come, really only engaging with him whenever he wishes to engage with her. As a result, the vampire tends to find Silence the most comfortable and trustworthy one of the group even if she seems careful enough not to let him get too close. He's likely the first to notice how little Silence voluntarily shares about herself, often distracting the others with reassurances, compliments, and asking questions she thinks they would enjoy answering.

Despite this he appreciates that she's easygoing and down-to-earth, while still having a good sense of humor and seems to know when to take something seriously, and, while at times seemingly easily impressed with the world around her (like he's one to talk), also seems to accept it for what it is and adapts accordingly.

In actuality, Astarion has about as much trouble reading her as she does him, as he's found it impossible to tell if she's genuine in her compliments and expressing interest in others around her. She certainly seems to have a gift for getting people to trust her. She's good at taking control of conversations and deflecting away from topics she doesn't want to talk about in the least offensive way possible, and he's made the mistake of reading her sincerity as naivety. She intrigues him as almost every time he thinks he has her figured out, she does or says something unexpected, or contrary to what he would assume about her, and he's not even sure if she's doing it on purpose. It's possibly a matter of them being out of step with one another, being of differing natures, even if he gets on better with her than he has anyone else in recent memory (insofar as we know about his story at least).

About the only things that get on his nerves at times is that she's maybe a little too soft, and a little too cautious and prone to overthinking than is good for her, mostly because it ends up involving dragging them into doing something boring or "unproductive" (not to their overall benefit). Never mind that she's encouraged him to wait in camp or go on without them if he has a problem with their decisions. It also bugs him that, even if she sees the merit in using the tadpoles, she's on board with the others that it isn't safe to do so until they know exactly what it is they're dealing with. Rather by accident, it would seem, Astarion finds himself liking her more than he realizes, especially after his condition comes to light and, lo and behold, she's not only okay with it, she wants to know everything about it and how they can use it to their benefit, even if she doesn't seem to be too terribly keen on being fed off of, as long as he can sate himself with bandits and ne'er-do-wells, she's off the hook insofar as she's concerned... for now, and has basically told him that she's his "emergency supply" if circumstances require it.

Despite all this, Silence is still vigilant, and while she trusts him with certain things, doesn't trust him completely, and knows full well the lengths to which his type is willing to go to cover their attempts at taking advantage of a situation.

#haligren's ocs #haligren's art #haligren's oc silence #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 tav #bg3 tav #haligren's fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 gale #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 fanart

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