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chrissdollie · 8 months ago

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♡.˚ ୨୧ ｡˚ ♡.˚ boyfriend best friend - bsf!chris x reader

a/n: @sydneysturniolooo, sorry for getting this out so late :c and a special thank you to @imtalkinnonsense and @thebottledwatersupplier for beta reading :)

summary: your best friend chris doesn't understand boundaries, but neither do you. sometimes he feels more like a boyfriend than your actual bf.

warnings/notes: cursing, established relationship with an oc (steve), bsf!chris, ur kinda oblivious, lowercase intended, mentions of sex wc: 1.3k

this party bites. you stand next to your boyfriend in the kitchen, holding an almost empty red cup. his arm is wrapped around your shoulders as he converses with some friends. you boredly swish your drink around in the cup awkwardly. the music playing isn't your taste and you'd much rather be at home with your boyfriend, steve, in your bed where you're comfortable.

your empty hand fidgets with the bottom of your pink skirt, waiting for the trite conversation to wrap up. your disinterested stare picks up from the floor when you hear your name being called by the one voice you can have true fun with. your eyes brighten almost immediately, a toothy smile forming on your face. a dopey grin plastered on his, he waves his hand as he makes his way over to where you stood.

steve's discussion comes to halt when he scoffs at the boy's appearance. chris doesn't even spare him a glance. instead, he gives you a kiss on the cheek as greeting, swatting away steve's arm from where it was resting. you kiss back, your lipgloss leaving a small sticky stain on his left cheek. "hey chris! uh, you remember steve." you smile and turn to your boyfriend who simply nods in greeting. chris' smile falters a little, just a little. he chuckles, "yeah, hey big guy."

his eyes turn back to you, then down to your cup. he grabs it from you, holding it out to steve. "her drink's almost done. go get her a refill, man." steve lets out a small exasperated sigh, taking the cup and muttering, "i'll be right back." chris gives a fake smile as he watches him leave with his buddies. "take as long as you need." he exclaims, winking.

you lean against the kitchen counter. "sooo, i thought you weren't coming..?"

he coughs, scratching the back of his head, the bottom of his black tank lifting up with his arm. "err- well, matt told me you were going. and we haven't hung out in like a week so yknow.." you nod along. he chuckles, shaking his head before continuing. "you looked like you were fucking dead anyhow. thought i'd be your knight in shining armor." he jokes, casually ruffling your hair.

you groan, "ugh, yes, thank you. steve's friends aren't exactly my type of people, i guess." you laugh dryly. he nods along, looking at you up and down. "well, princess, you look fabulous, as always." he compliments your simple look with a soft boyish smile. you sweetly return his smile and reply, "thank you" in a shy tone.

"yknow," chris leans against the counter so he's right next to you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours. your head turns, watching him as he looks down at his dirty sneakers. "it's been like what- a week since you and i hung out? what're you doin' after the party?" he lifts his head to look into your shameful eyes.

"'m goin' on a date with steve.. 'm sorry."

chris chuckles in response with his eyes widening curiously. ”a date?? oh sweet, are you guys finally going somewhere besides Denny’s?” he smirks. you purse your lips, seeing steve walking towards you guys. you turn back to chris' waiting eyes. you shrug, mildly embarrassed. "we're just going for ice cream." pfft, as if it's any better than denny's.

he lets out a clearly not surprised "oh" as soon as your boyfriend stops right infront of you. he holds out the red cup to you. "here, babe." you take it and thank him before looking into the cup unsuspectingly. you clear your throat. "oh um.. this isn't punch?" you look up with a confused frown, in search of an explanation.

he nods slowly. "yeah.. i just thought maybe you'd like to try-"

chris' laugh cuts him off. steve turns with a raised eyebrow. before he can even ask what's so funny, chris holds up his hand. "try? she doesn't drink, moron." he snatches the cup out of your hand, not breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. you swallow hard. "it's okay.. really it is, but yeah, i don't think i wanna.."

steve rolls his eyes. chris scoffs, pouring the drink out into the sink next to him. your boyfriend simply folds his arms, unfazed. "fine, whatever." he grabs your chin. "they're setting up the kegs in the back. come watch me, kay?" he kisses your lips gently, not even giving you time to respond. he smiles and walks to the backyard.

"that shit is so immature." your best friend giggles, his small silver hoops swinging from his ears as he laughs. you let out a small sigh. he hums, "hey." he gets off the counter, bringing his hands up to cup your face. you giggle against his veiny hands. "how are you, peach? you good?" he asks in a serious voice, not playing around about your well-being. you blink slowly, your eyelashes prettily fluttering. "'m good." you whisper.

he raises both eyebrows. "this baboo- uh, is he making you happy? and no horseshit."

"yeah." you blandly respond with squished lips from the pressure. he drops one of his hands to his side. you lean into the one left on your face, your eyes shutting tiredly. he stares at you for a few seconds like you're an angel sent from heaven just for him. he's fighting the urge to kiss your glossy pout because he then remembers steve's waiting for you.

"ya guy's waitin', ma." he reminds you, tapping your cheek. you open your eyes and nod quickly. you grab your hand and begin walking to the backyard, pushing past the people with a quiet "excuse us" as you drag chris through the house.

minutes later, you're sitting on the grass criss crossed next to chris. your boyfriend stands in front of one of the kegs as he gets hyped up by his group of friends. someone yells out, "remember the rules, boys," and explains the rules quickly. "alright, 3... 2... 1!"

you don't really pay attention to who's winning as you rest your head sleepily against chris' shoulder. his arm wraps around you, his fingers playing with your gorgeous hair. you blink slowly, trying to stay awake. but it's hard since you're so comfortable in chris' embrace. you wanted to mention something that's been on your mind before drifting off.

"yesterday he told me to have sex with him." you mumble loud enough so only chris could hear. he can't help but let out a chuckle. he readjusts himself to look down at you. "so.. was he good?" he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, though he knows you wouldn't. not his precious angel.

you roll your eyes with a grin. "i told him i wasn't ready. then he got all upset. i dunno why, i've told him multiple times that i'm not ready. he's just so impatient." you whine at the end. you look ahead as people cheer and smack steve's opponent on the back. clearly your boyfriend lost, anyone could see by the annoyed look on his face. you scrunch up your nose at the sweat and beer dripping from his mouth down to his chest.

chris hums, still twirling a piece of your hair with his long fingers. "he just has to deal with it. tell him to watch porn or somethin'."

you laugh, but it stops when steve glares your way. or more so, chris' way. you cough and sit up, brushing some grass of your skirt. chris turns his head towards him and rolls his eyes. "dunno why he gets so pressed all the time. you and i've been friends for years so what the fuck is his deal?"

you hum quietly, shrugging carelessly. chris sucks in a breath for a moment, hesitating on asking you a question. he sees steve walk back inside with his group, probably going to get even more shitfaced. but thats not his problem. a few seconds of silence pass before chris decides to speak up. "well, if you like.. weren't totally comfortable doing it with him, you could with me?"

your eyebrows raise as your eyes widen. he raises his hands up in defense, "nonono, not like in a weird way." he chuckles dryly. "it'd just be so you're prepared, yknow? and anyhow, he doesn't know you're a virgin soo.."

he does raise a good point, you must admit. you twirl a piece of your hair in your manicured fingers, biting your lip softly. he is an experienced guy, you know from all the stories he told you at your sleepovers. but what if you don't wanna have sex with chris just for steve's benefit? you innocently lick your lips before looking into your best friend's stunning blue eyes.

tags!! <3 @leah-loves-lilies @imtalkinnonsense @stargirlsturniololover @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #𐔌　♡ 　˚₊ chris sturniolo　₊˚ ⊹

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lucky-clover-gazette · 3 months ago

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 12

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

It was as if some protective membrane had been torn away and everything that he had not let himself feel was exposed behind the rupture.

this is a beautifully written sentence

He had nothing left to hold it back, only this raw, terrible feeling, of being denied family.

it’s interesting how he takes this as being denied family. it’s less of a literal denial, and more of him reckoning with the reality he’s been avoiding for the entire series: his father and kastor were/are incredibly flawed people, and in kastor’s case actively committed/attempted familicide. it’s less the denial of family itself and more the denial of the family he thought he had, and the ideal of family being loyal and dependable. that same disillusionment must have happened to laurent when auguste died and the regent started mistreating him.

In his life, he had known only one parent. His father had been to him a set of ideals, a man he looked up to, and strove to please, a standard against whom he measured himself. Since his father’s death, he had not allowed himself to think or feel anything but determination that he would return, that he would see his home again, and restore himself to the throne.

okay i think i kinda hinted at some mild criticism of king’s rising in my last set of annotations, and a some people agreed in that it seems like she had an editor and was writing to be traditionally published. i think i see that here. i don’t think captive prince or prince’s gambit pacat would have spelled this out here, as clearly as she does. it’s well-written, but also something we could easily understand between the lines. it almost feels less effective this way, although that’s partially because i’m so used to a certain style and approach from the author.

Now he felt as if he stood in front of his father, felt his father’s hand in his hair, as he never would again. He had wanted his father to be proud of him; and had failed him, in the end.

yeah, i’m sorry, but this feels really out of place. both in terms of the writing and the fact that it’s included at all. feels like some editor was like “you need to spell it out for the casual readers who are just interested in the porn if you want the scene to be effective.” the turns of phrase are a little trite and the entire thing just seems so… obvious? maybe i’m being too harsh, but i am curious what others think.

Laurent said, ‘No. I’m not here to—’ He said, ‘I’m just here.’

this is a lovely line. laurent knows damen thinks his presence is a call to action, but wants him to know he’s safe and can just exist. a little bit of a reversal between them.

Laurent, he realised, had guarded his solitude for him. And his people, fearing the fierce, strange foreign prince, had done as Laurent ordered, and stayed out. He was stupidly, profoundly grateful for that.

again with the reversal—similar to what happened after aimeric/nicaise

Before he could, he felt Laurent’s fingers on the back of his neck, a shock of touch that caught him in a tumult of confusion as it drew him forward, simply. It was, from Laurent, slightly awkward; sweet; rare; stiff with obvious inexperience. If he had been offered this as an adult, he couldn’t remember it.

<3 i still think we’re getting a lot spelled out for us, but it’s so lovely here that i don’t mind.

‘Now you are taking advantage of my kind-hearted instincts,’ Laurent said, a murmur into his ear.

He let his lips form a half-smile. ‘You aren’t going to offer me one of your gaudy Veretian handkerchiefs?’ ‘You could use the clothing you’re wearing. It’s about the same size.’ ‘Your poor Veretian sensibilities. All those wrists and ankles.’ ‘And arms and thighs and every other part.’ ‘My father’s dead.’

YEP THIS IS GREAT. love how it takes this swift u-turn away from their usual banter. we know these characters and how they usually speak, so this is effective on its own

The words had a finality to them.

... so we don’t need this! we GET that finality from the way they heavily contrast with the light banter and stop it abruptly with "my father's dead."

His father was buried in Akielos beneath the columned halls of the silent, where the pain and confusion of his last days would never trouble him again.

this might be giving us a little hint of damen almost wanting to be dead himself? in the sense that it would be peaceful, to not have to deal with this bullshit. he hasn't grown up having these kinds of feelings acknowledged so he's unprepared to cope with them now.

‘You thought he was a warmonger. An aggressive, war-hungry king, who invaded your country on the flimsiest of pretexts, hungry for land and the glory of Akielos.’ ‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘We don’t have to do this now.’

laurent doesn’t disagree. the “no” is for “i’m not letting you do this yourself emotionally.” and laurent would know all about torturing himself with harsh realities about dead people during intimate and vulnerable moments, so that’s really saying something

‘A barbarian,’ said Damen, ‘with barbaric ambitions, fit only to rule by the sword. You hated him.’ ‘I hated you,’ said Laurent. ‘I hated you so badly I thought I’d choke on it. If my uncle hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed you. And then you saved my life, and every time I needed you, you were there, and I hated you for that, too.’ ‘I killed your brother.’

this feels a little bit like a summary, but i’ll allow it since they’re having an honest conversation while knowing each other fully for like the first time. do you think this is the chapter that was edited/pitched to publishers first? i don’t know exactly how publishing works, but it does feel just kind of weird

‘What are you doing here?’ Damen said.

i like how we get some insecurity from damen here. we don’t see it often, like this. he is surprised that laurent wants him, even while he is being vulnerable. i’d say it’s a toxic masculinity thing, but in the context of this world it’s more of a toxic royalty thing

Laurent said, ‘I know what it’s like to lose family.’

(as an answer to “what are you doing here?”) i get what this is trying to say, i think. laurent is looking past his anger at damen for auguste and offering him empathy, even though damen caused the tragedy that allows laurent to be empathetic in this case. it still feels… slightly off, though. maybe it’s even the fact that damen asked in the first place. maybe it’s the fact that laurent answered verbally. so much between them has been unspoken thus far, and i don’t see why that needs to change, even though they’re in a more supportive relationship. that can be implicit, too. and that unspoken understanding makes it even more intimate and distinctly Them.

‘Is there no way forward for us?’ said Damen. It just came out. Beside him, he could feel Laurent holding himself very still. ‘You mean, will I come back to your bed for the little time we have left?’ ‘I mean that we hold the centre. We hold everything from Acquitart to Sicyon. Can we not call it a kingdom and rule it together? Am I such a poorer prospect than a Patran princess, or a daughter of the Empire?’

he mentions unification so casually, which is both rewarding to the reader who has been screaming it for chapters but also kind of… annoying? i don’t know, so much of this feels in service of the imminent sex scene. kind of rushed or dumbed down. so much tension has been meticulously built, and they’ve had sex under far less resolved conditions. here it’s almost like there’s a checklist of Things Damen and Laurent Have to Agree On/Share About Themselves Emotionally Before They Can Satisfyingly Fuck For The First Time As Themselves. but like, these bitches are messy. always have been, always will be. and they’ve always BEEN themselves. to just try to quickly resolve and drop the mess feels inconsistent, and makes the execution of the sex less unique and ironically more shallow, maybe

When he made himself look at Laurent, Laurent’s eyes on him were very dark, his voice quiet. ‘How can you trust me, after what your own brother did to you?’ ‘Because he was false,’ said Damen, ‘and you are true. I have never known a truer man.’ He said, into the stillness, ‘I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly.’

contrast to what he’s learned about his family—kastor and his father, because the negative things he said about his father as if laurent believes them are also things damen has come to believe.

it’s a sweet line. and kind of insane, given everything laurent has done. but i think it works, because we know damen has been like this about laurent from the start. and we also know its difficult for laurent to believe or accept that anyone would want to trust him with their heart. i wish we could have had this interaction be spoken, but with FAR less of the previous conversation here. start the scene with laurent entering, have them comfort each other physically but unable to speak. or speak around the subject, instead of hitting the nail on the head. then give them this extremely direct moment, and it would be a lot more effective.

listen i’m not saying i’m better or smarter or anything, it is ultimately a matter of taste and i’ve been taking a break from the books. but i have done a VERY CLOSE READING of this series so far, so i feel at least somewhat capable of analyzing it in this way. if that makes sense.

Laurent turned his head, denying Damen his face.

this doesn’t feel like a pacat line. the construction of it does, but i feel like she’d say something far less direct and far more poetic than “denying his face”

Damen could see his breathing. After a moment he said in a low voice, ‘When you make love to me like that, I can’t think.’ ‘Don’t think,’ said Damen. Damen saw the flickering change, the tension, as the words provoked an internal battle. Damen said, ‘Don’t think.’ ‘Don’t,’ said Laurent, ‘toy with me. I—have not the means to—defend against this.’ ‘I don’t toy with you.’ ‘I—’ ‘Don’t think,’ said Damen. ‘Kiss me,’ said Laurent. And then flushed, a rich colour. Don’t think, Damen had said, but Laurent couldn’t do that. Even to sit there after what he had said, he was fighting a battle in his head. The words hung awkwardly, a blurt, but Laurent didn’t take them back, he just waited, his body singing with tension. Instead of leaning in, Damen took Laurent’s hand, brought it towards himself, and kissed his palm, once.

yeah.

He had learned in the course of their one night together to tell when Laurent was taken unawares—taken aback. It wasn’t easy to anticipate, the gaps in Laurent’s experience not mapping to anything that he understood. He felt it now, Laurent’s eyes very dark, uncertain of what he should do. ‘I meant—’ ‘Don’t let you think?’ Laurent didn’t answer.

this is. such an interesting way to bring in previous themes of consent and submission. bc this is by all means consensual, but laurent is almost asking damen to just take what he wants, because his anxiety is so bad that he doesn’t really WANT to be asked what he wants or made to initiate. it's submission willingly given because laurent trusts damen, both in terms of seeing and understanding his weakness here and in taking care of his pleasure. laurent asking outright to not have to be strong in this situation, and trusting damen to treat him well while his guard is down. trusting him with his heart, just as damen has sworn to trust laurent with his.

Laurent’s wariness was not, at this moment, the high walls of the defended citadel. It was that of a man with a portion of his guard down, who was desperately unused to it.

After a moment: ‘At Ravenel, I—it had been a long time since I had—with anyone. I was nervous.’ ‘I know,’ said Damen. ‘There has,’ said Laurent. He stopped. ‘There has only been one other person.’ Softly, ‘I’m a little more experienced than that.’ ‘Yes, that is immediately apparent.’ ‘Is it?’ A little pleased. ‘Yes.’

THIS is lamen dialogue. so much unsaid, and it’s perfect, because we know what it’s all implying.

‘Laurent, I’d never hurt you.’ He heard Laurent’s strange, disbelieving breath, and he realised what he had said. ‘I know,’ said Damen, ‘that I did hurt you.’ Laurent’s motionlessness was careful, even his breathing was careful. He didn’t turn back to look at Damen. ‘I hurt you, Laurent.’ ‘That’s enough, stop,’ said Laurent. ‘It wasn’t right. You were just a boy. You didn’t deserve what happened to you.’ ‘I said that’s enough.’ ‘Is it so hard to hear?’

big moment for damen, realizing he did something to hurt laurent and admitting it. this has been building for a while with his guilt about his father and slavery and everything else akielos stands for. damen has always lied to himself, a lot. he almost treats this scene like a confession.

on the laurent side of things: this is damen admitting he was wrong, but still wanting to be better. i think that confuses laurent, to think that anyone would ever want to treat him well when they’re strong enough to hurt him. also, this is just generally intense for laurent, but he's still here despite his discomfort because he cares about damen.

this entire scene really is just an insane amount of honesty and vulnerability from them both. it's quick to overwhelm laurent, while damen seems to be getting kind of addicted to it and wanting more. which he gets, in more ways than one.

He thought of Auguste, thought how no boy deserved to lose his brother.

interesting line for a guy who ends up almost being murdered by his stepbrother and gets saved by his divorce husband, whose brother he killed, killing his stepbrother

He didn’t understand the forces that moved in Laurent, but some instinct pushed him to say it. ‘My first time, there was a lot of rolling around. I was eager and had no idea what to do. It’s not like Vere, we don’t watch people doing it in public.’ He said, ‘I still get too caught up near the end. I know I forget myself.’

awww :) he’s trying to make him feel less awkward. this is such a setting-transcendent moment. anyone would say something like this, whether in this weird horny semi historical fictional society or any other romance setting. "you're new to this, but so was i. and i still have my flaws."

A silence. It went on too long. He didn’t disturb it, watching the tense line of Laurent’s body.

love the patience here

‘When you kissed me,’ said Laurent, pushing the words out, ‘I liked it. When you took me in your mouth, it was the first time that I had . . . done that.’ He said, ‘I liked it when you—’

he’s so brave for saying this. i’m not being sarcastic. go laurent

Laurent’s reaction to kissing had always been complex: tense; vulnerable; hot. The tension was the greatest part of it, as though this single act was too much for him, too extreme. And yet, he had asked for it. Kiss me.

as always, the way laurent is not a normal romantic interest but still deeply loved and respected narratively makes me feel so happy. gives me hope etc

Don’t think, he’d said, because it was easier than saying, Take me for who I am. He couldn’t bear that suddenly. He wanted it without pretences, without excuses, his fingers curling hard into Laurent’s hair.

love this evolution. damen desperately wants laurent to be here and thinking, and knowing him, and still letting himself want this. again, with the almost addiction to honesty between them. he's getting swept up in it.

‘It’s me,’ said Damen. ‘It’s me, here with you. Say my name.’ ‘Damianos.’ He felt the sundering in Laurent at that, the name an admission, a statement of truth that came out of him, Laurent open to him with nothing to hide behind. He could hear it in Laurent’s voice. Prince-killer.

He wanted it, felt a surge of purely selfish desire as he thought of it, that Laurent knew it was him. That Laurent wanted this with him.

we know. this could have been left out.

It was subsumed, as it had to be, into the act of kissing. His body felt heavy, one form of penetration substituted for another, the tremors in Laurent not that of a single barrier crumbling, but shudders as though one after another were being brought down, each place unexplored, each place deeper than the last. Prince-killer.

so is this kind of meant to conjure the image of damen taking auguste down, right? breaking down defenses, penetration, etc. prince killer as in murderer, but he’s also killing laurent as in like. “lady-killer ;)”

He felt acutely aware that he was half on his back, naked, with Laurent fully clothed, astride, still wearing his polished boots and the high-necked, tightly laced collar of his jacket. It was a sudden, vulnerable fantasy that Laurent might simply get up and wander off, strolling the rooms, or sit in the chair opposite to sip wine with his legs crossed, while Damen was left exposed on the bed.

yeah damen, you WOULD be into that

Laurent didn’t do that. Laurent lifted his hands to his own neck. His eyes on Damen’s, slowly, he took up one of the tight-laced ties at his throat, and drew on it.

the EYE CONTACT!!!

In the dim light, Auguste was between them, sharp as a knife. The scar on his shoulder was the last thing Auguste had done before Damen had killed him. The kiss was like a wound, as if to do it Laurent was impaling himself on that knife. There was an edge of desperation to it, Laurent kissing like he needed it, his fingers clutching, his body unsteady.

it really feels like this should be cut at “wound.” maybe continue with a much more brief “laurent impaled himself.” we can MAKE the connection that it’s like he’s stabbing himself on this figurative thing, but doing it anyway because he wants it. it doesn’t need to be written out, it’s already on the page between the lines! it is SO bizarre to me that pacat's style has changed in this way in seemingly just this one chapter. maybe it's because i stepped away for a while, but honestly i can't see how i couldn't NOT have a sort of sixth sense for recognizing these weird moments given the amount of detail i've put into my analysis and reading. again, your thoughts are definitely appreciated.

He kissed back knowing it hurt him, hurt them both. There was a desperation in both of them, an aching need that could not be filled, and he could feel it in Laurent, the same unconscious striving.

another example of “we don’t need the second the sentence because the first already says it!!” i seriously suspect that this scene was written way more raw at first but an editor was like “you have to make it a lot more clear they both want it/they’re chill with each other over and over again so it’s not too vague”

another alternate explanation could be the chapter's overarching theme of abundant honestly, like almost an overwhelming amount of it, but i still don't think that explains the change in like, craft. there's a difference between characters changing their behavior through development or to make a thematic point, and the narrative itself shifting in how it tells the story. and while damen is kind of going from the extreme of lying to himself about everything to craving this truth, it's still strange to read, and feels like a very intense departure from their previous scenes together.

In a burst of explicit fantasy, he wished Laurent were a pet, or a slave, wished him a body that was not going to require extensive, coaxing preparation before it could be penetrated.

“you like it simple” flashbacks

i think both laurent and damen have moments of wanting this, but ultimately care far more for the more complicated and real parts of their relationship and selves. that was a lot of my chapter 7 analysis re-write. part of what i love about this pairing is that it's really not that much about the sex for them, which is highly ironic given gestures vaguely to the story and world. true intimacy between them has been in their conversations, their little sidequests together and the way they've connected intellectually and emotionally despite literally every odd being against that happening. it's in the way they are equals, and choose to devote themselves mutually, whether it's through despising or adoring each other. anyone can fuck; and especially in this series, almost everyone does. whatever damen and laurent do is wayyy more insane and complicated and interesting and real than that.

He wanted to be inside. He wanted to feel Laurent’s surrender shudder and give way, become total. He wanted no denying that Laurent had let him in, who he had let in. It’s me. His body primed, as though only in one act could this be driven home.

(heads up, i talk pretty explicitly about sexual assault and rape in the following paragraphs)

see, i don’t get how THAT is the ultimate sign of laurent "letting damen in." because anyone could fuck anyone if they’re powerful enough, right? that’s the whole tragedy of laurent, he sees himself as weak because this has been done to him before without his consent. i guess the surrender is in admitting he wants it, which does make sense with how everything has been set up. laurent has been assaulted and harassed and objectified by countless people, but damen is the only one he’s even given enthusiastic consent, so yeah i guess it is the ultimate sign of uhhhh accomplishment, for damen? for lack of a better word. but that still just feels OFF to me. the emotions and the logic of it.

i understand that there is a raw sort of honesty to sex; a body's natural response, fairly disconnected from morality or reason. damen has experienced that for laurent from the very start, and it's gotten him into trouble before. but despite that, he isn't a character who experiences shame about having those feelings, like, ever. the man had sex slaves, after all. he is horny despite the horrors, that's his thing.

i guess where i struggle is in, myself, thinking that the kind of primal sexual honesty here is real or meaningful in the same way the aforementioned emotional and intellectual intimacy are. like, there's something here that just bothers me. maybe it's the way damen is so swept up in the "honesty" of laurent letting himself be fucked, as a totally good and amazing and real thing. i get how damen might feel that way, but it's like, did the regent not also feel those same kinds of feelings, and act on them? if laurent had any kind of bodily response to his own assault, was that bodily honesty his emotional or intellectual truth? is it any different from the bodily honesty damen is appreciating here? this line of thinking is a common way that people convince others that they wanted or deserved their assault. i know damen is like deeply unqualified to understand that, and i know that laurent does want it and damen cares for him deeply, but i guess i almost feel protective of laurent in this moment, with the way damen is thinking during this scene.

all of the terrible people in this series who do so many things without consent, to degrade and disempower others or simply because they think they're entitled to it, are acting on the same primal urges as damen in this scene. what makes damen different from them, the entire reason laurent trusts damen enough to LET him do this, is the fact that damen respects laurent beyond those primal urges, and sees him as a person and not an object. raw sexual desire, by contrast, is just... simple.

i get a little lost here as a reader because, like laurent, i need to intellectualize everything always. i do not like it simple, often to my own detriment, admittedly. it’s hard for me to amend the idea of this like unmitigated desire for sexual honesty/vulnerability with damen genuinely respecting laurent, even though i know he does and that’s literally the entire point, that the two things can coexist and this is romantic and powerful because somehow they do. i can suspend my disbelief while reading this in fiction, but it’s harder to rationalize or understand based on my own experiences, and my knowledge of the real world. trusting another person with vulnerability is horrifying and the series knows it, but is trying to offer a strong rebuttal in the way damen and laurent love each other.

maybe it's just that in this scene, i'm not totally sold. or something.

‘Do it, I told you, I don’t care—’

there is a little part of me that’s like “uh is this what a person who really wants to be doing this would say??” but also i know damn well that i'm projecting so go off king i guess????

maybe i would have been more satisfied by this scene if damen did not fuck laurent here and now. i don't know. this analysis is poor, unobjective, confused and hypocritical. but i'm not struggling with it in a fun or enriching way, like with chapter 7, it just makes me feel kinda bad. so i'm pushing through.

He was inside Laurent. It felt raw and unprotected. He had never felt more like himself: Laurent had let him inside, knowing who he was.

yes. WE KNOW.

Damen’s grip, still oiled, was wrapped around the hottest, most honest part of Laurent.

“most honest part” yeah that pretty much sums up what makes me weird about this scene. the way damen DELIGHTS in the primal honesty of it all, beneath laurent’s carefully constructed defenses. i guess just, its been so nice reading damen being so respectful of laurent’s hesitations and boundaries, and therefore falling for his personality and intellect and genuinely growing to understand and respect him without the promise of submission or sex, so the framing of this being damen finally getting what he REALLY wanted from laurent the whole time is… kind of rough to read. like oh, this is REALLY intimacy. this is the height of it. but it's not. like, at all.

damen is not me, and i get that. but in previous times where damen has done shit i've felt weird about, i've never felt like the narrative has been poking at me to approve of it or feel positive catharsis. but this entire scene is so heavily written to be this great moment of celebration and positive catharsis, for protagonist and reader alike. but what are we even celebrating here? we're celebrating the honesty between damen and laurent about their identities, and the fact that they support each other anyway. given how much baggage they both have about sex, i almost feel like it would be a more effective scene if they DIDN'T fuck. like, laurent just hugging damen was beautiful. that kind of simple comfort, not inherently sexual, was unusual to damen. and therefore impactful. but noooo, the sex is supposed to be the pinnacle, and we made the way for it with some weirdly written overly explanatory dialogue shoved at the start of the scene. to be fair, damen does literally say, 'I still get too caught up near the end. I know I forget myself.’ which is kind of what I've just described happening.

i just don't think i am where the book wants me to be, with how i react to that. it's an odd feeling. i feel like everyone is going to read this and be like "wow she has issues, she's insane, you're supposed to like that he forgets himself and is consumed by his desires." but oh well. i usually don't enjoy the romance genre for a reason.

this series really does challenge my own ability to let simple desire coexist with the proven need to be highly intentional and thoughtful in caring about/interacting with others. it’s hard for me to believe those two things can be in harmony—that you can be honest and vulnerable, and not either be hurting someone, getting hurt by someone, enabling someone else’s self-harm, or hurting yourself.

i suppose some of the catharsis of this scene is that laurent and damen are doing this together, KNOWING they have hurt each other. that they will always have that between them, yet also knowing and trusting that they can and will treat each other well.

it’s just hard for me to see that as anything other than fantasy. it's not honest, it's not real, in the way i've come to understand those concepts both in my personal ethos and the ethos of the series. so this entire scene built around honesty as a theme just kind of falls flat. it’s tragic, really, that damen is so happy about this apparent truth between them when he is unaware of the very blatant and relevant reality of laurent’s history with sexual assault. it’s a powerful scene, but not for the reasons damen thinks it’s powerful. maybe pacat meant for that to be the case, maybe she didn’t, maybe editing made it weird. who knows.

but it is, as i’ve said in previous chapter analysis posts, a nice fantasy. i'm glad if it hits for other readers, and i respect that cs pacat put it here for a reason. maybe someday i'll re-read it and react differently.

#capri #sam reads capri #captive prince #kings rising #this one is rough #there's a reason it took so long #sorry :/

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kandlewick · 1 year ago

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i'll dry the villain's tears pt.2

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

all entries are meant to be read as platonic. all are meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game.

It was a very strange feeling, being immortal. Within the blink of your eyes, decades had past and you still didn't know why you were brought to this desert world and why you were granted a second chance at life. Your memory is broken and fading, yesterdays felt like years and years felt like yesterdays. Very few things mattered enough anymore for you to remember. All you can piece together is the distant, far off memory of waking up from what felt like a long nap and falling into the arms of a man clothed in rags.

He's dead now. Has been for a long time.

But now, you serve his family - his descendants. The shackles that once bound you were broken off centuries ago but... Something was telling you to stay, to wait. You were needed here. You didn't know how long you would have to wait but nothing could pull you from your course. Nothing.

It wasn't until the birth of Kalim Al-Asim that you remembered. Everything came rushing back, flooding your mind's eyes with visions of blot and tears as the palace erupted into cheers and praises, everyone around you eager to celebrate the good news. The birth of this child would surely be a blessing to everyone around him.

Except..

for Jamil Viper.

You had to find him.

For the first few months, you practically tore up the palace, ignoring the cries and complaints of the servants and guests in your pursuits, claiming you mad behind their hidden mouths and jeering tongues.

"Why are they searching so hard for a servant boy?"

"Our blessed and loved Kalim Al-Asim has been born! Why wouldn't they want to shower him in their blessings?"

"Surely this dijinn has gone mad with age!"

You ignored the servants and their trite giggling over meaningless chores. Your cause was greater then their own.

It wasn't until several months later that you found him. In the arms of his mother and father, you found the child that would curse the name of his brother in near everything but blood and nearly wept in pity. You clutched your fist, ignoring the whispers and the gawking of the palace servants and guards as you knelt down and pressed your lips to the child's palm, smiling as the innocent child giggled at you. It knew nothing of the future it would've been granted if they didn't have a friend like you.

"Don't worry, child, your life will be a happy one."

"Watch where you're swinging that thing! You nearly smacked the intern's head clean off!!"

Was that why you were seeing stars?

You stumbled for a second, nearly dragging a boom mic down with you as your legs tried to catch your near dead weight. The man carrying the wooden beam didn't even apologize as he carried on with what he was doing. In fact, nobody really seemed to care after they knew you weren't knocked out cold on the floor, knowing they just dodged a lengthy worker's comp.

"Yeah... thanks guys. Really feeling the teamwork," you grumbled, blinking past the tears. Where were you anyways?

Wait, that was strange. Why couldn't you remember anything? You remembered important details like what car you owned, where you lived, how to drive a car, but your past, your name, everything was gone like a balloon just popped between your ears.

"Ugh, maybe I do need to get myself that worker's compensation," You grumbled, rubbing your palm against your forehead, "Everything's coming out all topsy-turvy..."

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a loud smack against your back, nearly sending you reeling back into the boom mic's loving arms. "Hey, intern! The star needs something to wake him up, go get a drink from the cafe downstairs. You know what he likes, right?"

You spluttered as the burly man, obviously your boss, shoved a credit card into your hand and walked off back on set, not even giving you the chance to open your mouth to respond. You bit back a scowl, choosing instead to pocket the card and noiselessly stomp out of the recording studio, silently cursing your luck.

It continued all the to the cafe where you realized, hey, you really don't remember what ''the star'' liked in caffeinated beverages. The barista, equally as tired as you, watched in workplace related misery as you fumbled for ideas.

"Uh... hey," You tried reading their name tag, "Mim? What's the most popular drink you got here? I'll have one of those?"

"One java-chipped cappuccino coming right up~"

You pulled out one of the chairs at a table and sat yourself down while you waited and tried to piece together what exactly had happened to you. You were an intern, you could recall, barely scraping by in the big city with dreams of being film crew. You had graduated college with high grades, nothing to sniff at, but you had chosen to intern at this particular business for some reason. You pinched your brows but the more you thought about it, the more annoyed you got. The sound of your name being called was just the wake up call you needed.

The barista handed your drink before centering their gaze to your chest. You followed their gaze and found their eyes linked with the nametag laced around your neck as you ran the credit card to pay.

"Wow," they tapped their nail against the counter, "You're working with the Vil Schoenheit? That must be pretty crazy."

You let out a loud squawk in shock as memories came flooding back, accidentally sending the coffee half way across the counter and on to the floor, the foam and drink dripping all over the freshly wiped down tile. Your arm remained high in the air as you both looked at the mess you had made.

"I'll... um... can you hand me some napkins?"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reader #isekai #vil shoenheit #jamil viper #reader insert #twisted wonderland

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onemorecupofcoffee · 8 months ago

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"The Need For Topical Music", written by Phil Ochs

Before the days of television and mass media, the folksinger was often a traveling newspaper spreading tales through music.

It is somewhat ironic that in this age of forced conformity and fear of controversy the folksinger may be assuming the same role. The newspapers have unfortunately told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the cold war truth so help them, advertisers. If a reporter breaks the "code of the West” that used to be confined to Hoot Gibson movies, he’ll find himself out on the street with a story to tell and all the rivers of mass communication damned up.

The folksingers of today must face up to a great challenge in their music. Folk music is an idiom that deals with realities and not just realities of the past as some would assert. More than ever there is an urgent need for Americans to look deeply into themselves and their actions and musical poetry is perhaps the most effective mirror available.

I have run into some singers who say, “Sure, I agree with most topical songs, but they're just too strong to do in public. Besides, I don't want to label myself or alienate some of my audience into thinking I'm unpatriotic.”

Yet this same person will get on the stage and dedicate a song to Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger as if in tribute to an ideal they are afraid to reach for. Those who would compromise or avoid the truth inherent in folk music are misleading themselves and their audiences. In a world so full of lies and corruption, can we allow our own national music to go the way of Madison Avenue?

There are definite grounds for criticism of topical music, however. Much of the music has been too bitter and too negative for many audiences to appreciate, but lately there has been a strong improvement in both quantity and quality, and the commercial success of songs like “If I Had a Hammer” have made many of the profit seekers forget their prejudices.

One good song with a message can bring a point more deeply to more people than a thousand rallies. A case in point is Pete Seeger's classic “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” which brought a message of peace to millions, including many of the younger generation who do not consider themselves involved in politics.

Folk music often arises out of vital movements and struggles. When the union movement was a growing, stirring and honest force in America, it produced a wealth of material to add to the nation's musical heritage. Today, there regrettably seem to be only two causes that will arouse an appreciable amount of people from their apathetic acceptance of the world; the Negro struggle for civil rights and the peace movement. To hear a thousand people singing "We Shall Overcome" without the benefit of Hollywood's bouncing ball is to hear a power and beauty in music that has no limits in its effect.

It never ceases to amaze me how the American people allow the hit parade to hit them over the head with a parade of song after meaningless song about love. If the powers that be absolutely insist that love should control the market, at least they should be more realistic and give divorce songs an equal chance.

Topical music is often a method of keeping alive a name or event that is worth remembering. For example many people have been vividly reminded of the depression days through Woody Guthrie’s dust bowl ballads. Sometimes the songs will differ in interpretation from the textbooks as with “Pretty Boy Floyd”.

Every newspaper headline is a potential song, and it is the role of an effective songwriter to pick out the material that has the interest, significance and sometimes humor adaptable to music.

A good writer must be able to picture the structure of a song and as hundreds of minute ideas race through his head, he must reject the superfluous and trite phrases for the cogent powerful terms. Then after the first draft is completed, the writer must be his severest critic, constantly searching for a better way to express every line in his song.

I think there is a coming revolution (pardon my French) in folk music as it becomes more and more popular in the U. S., and as the search for new songs becomes more intense. The news today is the natural resource that folk music must exploit in order to have the most vigorous folk process possible.

(Broadside #22, March 1963)

#phil ochs #topical music #protest music #folk music #transcribed by meee

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dangermousie · 4 months ago

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I love the scene where XY orders old letters from the King of Haoling burned after he declares her not her child...

And that is why Jing is the sole choice for her to ever find peace and happiness. Because due to his personality, he can so consistently show her the gentlest way, the way that holds on to the good despite the bad. XL refuses to do anything but march to his death and she and CX bond over how much their trauma hurt them. Both of those men could carry out any revenge against anyone she may wish but that is not what she needs. Jing is the sole one who can show her how to have a happy path forward despite the suffering - he's consistently been doing it since the moment they met, without meaning to (remember the scene where he was barely conscious and clearly in a ton of pain and still held his hand to shield her from that candle and that is what caught her attention - someone who was able to keep his kindness despite the suffering) but now he is explicitly doing it.

If a person with a different background would say it, it would sound trite and patronizing but the reason it works is because of what he himself has been through - he has been through horrifying physical and mental trauma and his body will always be a memorial to it. And it was inflicted by his loved ones. And yet we've seen him hold on to his gentleness and his kindness and remembering the best among the worst - this is a man who did not want any revenge against his brother who tortured him for years in the most horrifying ways and who still remembered the love they once had in childhood. He has lived what he says - the reason she can believe there is another path, a hope that he offers is because he's gotten through to it so maybe she can too.

(It is yet another gender role reversal btw)

#cdrama #yang zi #deng wei #lost you forever 2 #lost you forever

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levshany · 2 years ago

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I just remembered these drawings and decided to post them along with some thoughts (under the cut) about Belos that I have accumulated over the week

Spoilers for TOH (just in case)

I want to draw more good Belos, but I want to draw him in a way that looks "natural". And in the case of Mr. Kill-All-The-Witches, it is very, very difficult to do this, because this character is built so neatly and clearly that you take away just one detail in him - and the whole mechanism will crumble.

I have seen people draw the good Belos, while retaining all of his "attributes", such as the imperial cloak and the curse of the palismans. But the joke is that GOOD Belos simply could not get all these things: he would not start eating palisman souls, and he would not seize power, intimidating people with wild magic. He would be a completely different character.

OK OK. It can be assumed that in our time Belos realized his sins and embarked on the path of goodness, I'm sure such AUs already exist. But again, this is bullshit. Even if we and give Belos a redemption arch, it would be so huge and painful that Belya (it's the nickname I gave him) simply could not cope with it and would die of shame and grief. So rehab is not an option either.

And after much thought, I came to what I think is the simplest and most efficient option: to create a swap AU in which I will change the roles of the following characters:

Ida <–> Belos/Philip King <–> Kikimora Hooty <–> Collector Lilith <–> Caleb

Or: King <–> Collector Hooty <–> Kikimora

Everything else in the AU will remain the same.

Trite? Yes. Lazy? Maybe. But seriously. I need this AU only in order to draw more nice 'n chill grandpa Belos, who just hangs out with a bunch of kids somewhere on the outskirts of the world. Isn't that cool tho?

I have no idea when my hands will reach to make concepts. Maybe as early as next month.

#TOH #The Owl House #toh emperor belos #emperor belos #toh belos #belos #my art

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inquisimail · 1 day ago

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dai love interests' letters to the inquisitor in veilguard, if anyone was curious to see them. transcriptions in alt text & under cut

Amatus,

I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear.

I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you.

I will find you soon.

Yours, Dorian

---

My love,

You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side.

Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations.

Yours always, Thom

---

My love,

We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe.

The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can.

The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray.

Yours, Cassandra

---

Hey, Kadan,

Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!)

I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian.

Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to be just what I want to be.

And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you.

So come back safe.

Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

---

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.)

Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.")

North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker.

Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know.

We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow.

So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls!

We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.)

Still thinking of you sideways.

Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.)

The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out.

Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me.

I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why.

Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.)

You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on.

(The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.)

New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

---

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences too chewed to read.

I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible.

I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you're all right. You are— I've— There's— I wish that I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life.

The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my—I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this—

Whatever you need of me, I am yours.

Cullen

---

My Dearest Lady, / My Dearest Lord,

I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all.

The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together.

There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here.

When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes.

Always yours, Josephine

Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #dragon age veilguard spoilers #datvmining #<- new tag for these

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mediacircuspod · 1 year ago

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AJ Crowley vs Forgiveness

I need to talk about Crowley for a minute so buckle up or move on.

"It’s not so bad once you get used to it” from Season 1 Episode 1 and an early chapter of the book is something of a throwaway joke. But being damned isn't much of a joke to Crowley, even if he makes jokes to cover it up.

The first thing to understand is that damnation doesn’t end after Crowley either saunters vaguely downwards or is dropped into a burning pile of sulfur(conflicting accounts from the demon himself). Being damned is a continuous state of being AND something that could very well happen to him again.

He was too ambitious for heaven—too curious. Something that he now knows is distinctly not a heavenly virtue. It’s just that those traits are also not virtues in hell either. And on top of that—he’s good.

Which in his particular role, is an extremely dangerous thing to be. So he isn’t good, and he isn’t nice and he doesn’t feel trite things like empathy or love. Except that he knows intrinsically that all of that is utter bullshit. And if anyone who isn’t Aziraphale realizes this, he doesn’t really know what falling from hell would be like, but he doesn't want to be the first.

Another thing to remember is that Crowley doesn’t understand why he was cast out. He understands that it was the questions, that it was his ambition to try and suggest improvements, but he can’t understand why. And the shame of that being yet another question is not lost on him.

The resentment there that has festered for millennia is understandable and expected and HES RIGHT TO FEEL IT. And it’s the reason why he has such a negative reaction to the concept of “forgiveness” but has a relatively amicable relationship with apologies. And I know this is going to sound crazy after nearly 400 words, but this is the actual concept I want to dissect.

Because Aziraphale’s “I forgive you”s of the past have never gotten a good response, but they’ve also never gotten a “don’t bother”. Aziraphale uses that phrase specifically against Crowley when he needs to put distance between them. When he knows that Crowley is right. And Crowley knows that Aziraphale uses that phrase for exactly that purpose because they have being playing their parts for thousands of years. And he’s always been willing to wait in the past. The dance begins with Crowley challenging Aziraphale with something tempting.

The Great plan is dumb. What if we just left together? You’re being dumb. (I need to link that one Tumblr post that inspired this, just look at this.) Here.

And finally, desperately, This is what you’re giving up. Because Crowley doesn’t actually think it will work. He may hope it does. But he has played his part for long enough to know exactly what Aziraphale’s next line will be. And it still devastates him. And well, it’s his decision to be done waiting for Aziraphale to catch up. Being “too fast” has been his insecurity for too long, and he’s done slowing down just so Aziraphale can try and forgive him. He still doesn’t know why what he is, is wrong.

(He isn’t)(I mean he certainly makes some unhealthy choices, and he isn’t exactly completely in the right, but he’s NOT wrong.)(Running away together ISNT the right move, but it is the more romantic one so take that as you will.)

The part that makes my brain buzz is that this aversion to forgiveness does not apply to apologies. Specifically it does not apply to the phrase “I was wrong” or "you were right" or the little dance.

This. Is. Interesting.

He doesn’t have a problem with apologizing, and he doesn’t have a problem accepting apologies from Aziraphale if that wonderful scene is to be taken at face value. The fact that the 1941 apology dance wasn’t shown is actually a crime, and you can’t convince me otherwise. And I think this is specifically because he’s not actually averse to forgiveness on the whole. It’s the idea that he needs forgiveness for simply being who he is that actually bothers him. And well. I guess he was tired of Aziraphale pretending that the concept had merit, too.

For four years he's had the freedom to be exactly who he is without the fear of damnation even if he still has the baggage that went along with the first time it happened to him. And even though Aziraphale doesn't realize it, he's asking Crowley to do something impossible for him. He's asking Crowley to admit that he needs forgiveness, and come back to heaven.

Aziraphale assumes that Crowley would not only want that, but that being with Aziraphale would make it even better. But what the angel has actually done, is give Crowley's deepest insecurity wings. And given him a reason to step away from their millennia long dance.

Because Crowley has finally, finally, finally, found something that he can't give up for Aziraphale. It's extremely poetic that that thing happens to be himself.

And okay now I’m done. I’m gonna go scream into a void.

#good omens meta #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #go 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #Aziraphale #crowley #crowley and aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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saintsenara · 8 months ago

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What do you think of the trio's post-canon careers? Because recently, something that has really captured my imagination has been the idea of healer Ron.

The profession, of course, most often crops up in Dramione fic where Hermione has taken up at St. Mungo's (laughable-- this is a girl who needed Harry to unstopper the dittany because her hands were shaking so bad, and frankly, I shudder to think of her bedside manner) but it is predictably absent when veering off the canon course with Ron. This is such a shame because his willow wand is outright good for healing magic (and it is a fairly uncommon combination that he has! The only other person with a willow and unicorn wand, fascinatingly enough, is Lily Potter.)

Ron is also the only person who's canonically interested in healing as a profession (he's immersed in the leaflet for it at breakfast.) He remembers the spattergroit incident from OOTP and then uses it as a cover story in DH. In Half-blood Prince, he takes the exact same classes Harry does, which means he has the grades required to go into auror training, yes, but they are coincidentally the same requirements a student needs to meet in order to apply to be a healer. (On that note: Ron and Harry were clearly high academic achievers and the fanon assertion otherwise needs to be beat back with hammers.)

But the reason why I think healer ron would've been a cracker of a route to go down is just how refreshing it would've been. The Girl of the team, the gang, the trio, being the Healer and Caretaker is such a TRITE trope at this point. DADA Professor Harry is a classic, but this is my case for Healer Ron deserving to be up there. Send his ass back to Hogwarts again if you have to (Hermione will definitely be pleased). Have him intern with Madam Pomfrey for a year and then grumble behind Neville while he takes notes on medicinal herbs. Healer Weasley, who's a big hit in the paediatrics ward because he makes the kids laugh. Who flirts with the oldies and plays chess with the curmudgeons. Who just cares, more than anything, and will bring you a cup of tea no matter the hour, no questions asked. I really do think he's got the disposition for it. What do you reckon?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i am immediately compelled by the concept of ron-versus-wizarding-medicine. because, certainly, i never see him as someone who stays in the auror office long-term - i think it makes sense for him immediately post-war, especially when he will undoubtedly just want to keep busy and hunt down baddies as a reaction to fred's death, but i think he only stays in the role after this initial burst of vengeance until he feels comfortable leaving harry in a high-risk situation on his own.

because, of course, ron's vibe with everything he touches in canon is influenced by the fact that he's someone predisposed to being caring [right down, as you say, to his wand]. the bit in prisoner of azkaban when he offers to make a cup of tea while hagrid's in hysterics about buckbeak's death sentence is something i find genuinely lovely, for example, and i do think - as you note - that there's something really striking about ron occupying that caring role within the trio which a fanon deviation to trite gender dynamics in which men are stupid and women are nurturing undermines in a supremely tedious way.

i'm not sure, though, that i would back ron in any specialism of healing that could be classed as emergency medicine - he has the vibe of, and i mean this with great affection, the sort of surgeon who habitually leaves sponges behind in patients - but i would back him in specialisms which need to be a bit more holistic or slower in pace. his chess skills - and his good intuition - suggest to me that he'd be a pretty effective diagnostician, and i obviously think he'd have a great bedside manner.

healer ron, then, is going to be at his best, absolutely, in something like paediatrics, which means that i'm going to take your suggestion about him interning with madam pomfrey and run with it to say that ron as hogwarts matron [or whatever the non-gendered version of that term would be] is his ideal career.

think about it! the work's varied and sometimes complicated, but it's not too high-pressure because really serious cases will be sent to st mungo's. the work will frequently relate to things that ron is interested in, like quidditch. and the work will frequently require ron's key talent - being sound - to shine. this is a man who would do an excellent job, i think, of handling mishaps caused by teenagers trying to hex their own acne off, or offering tea and sympathy to the homesick or the recently dumped. i think he'd do a great sex-ed presentation, would manage to charm honeydukes into giving the school its medicinal chocolate at a huge discount, and would be considered a huge legend by the student body for always being willing to certify to the teachers that someone who used a puking pastille to get out of class was actually sick.

as for the other two, i much prefer hermione as a barrister than as a civil-servant - not just because of her temperament but because i think the change she wants to bring to wizarding society is going to be won primarily by her slapping on a wig and gown and being condescending to witnesses.

as for harry, i like to stick to him as an auror. while i have some exceptions, i'm actually really not fond at all of professor potter as a trope - and, even more controversially, i really don't like the concept of professor riddle - largely because teaching is far too sedate for someone who runs on adrenaline as much as harry does.

and - i must be honest - i think the idea of harry as a teacher [or a healer or a quidditch player] often hangs on people feeling uncomfortable with the idea of him as, to all intents and purposes, a police officer. but i quite like taking that in the opposite direction, and playing with harry's canonically black-and-white morality and capacity for self-righteousness to have him - while not a corrupt or sadistic auror - a complacent one. i like the idea of him as someone who thinks that he always applies the law justly and so the law is therefore just, and so on - and the fact that this would allow him to overlook his own childhood lawbreaking is part of that...

#asks answered #asenora meta #golden trio #ron weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #ron would be beloved by all nurses and that tells you all you need to know

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homerforsure · 11 months ago

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Can I request #21 "It's alright, I'm here." for the there was only one bed/sharing a bed prompts? ☺️❤️

Only three months late! But I was feeling inspired by @andavs stunning 6 days of Buddie art (this one in particular) and I finally made some writing happen. <3

ETA: Now on AO3 because I did think of a title after all

The Second Hand Unwinds

The body holds on tight to pain. It’s a trite little phrase that Eddie’s snorted at more than once after hearing it from Frank, from well-meaning “I’ve been where you are” guys at group meetings, and from more than one physical therapist. But the fact that it makes for pretty, marketable word art, doesn’t keep it from being true.

Eddie remembers it whenever an old memory works its way out of the darkness like shrapnel coming to the surface and every time pain flares hot and fresh through scarred-over wounds. His body marks the passing of the seasons, notches carved into his bones as the years pass, and Eddie’s muscles brace themselves hard against the most devastating anniversaries of his life. Usually well before his brain has a chance to notice the date on the calendar.

Every time it happens–every time–he forgets what it feels like. He wakes up one morning and it takes him longer to get out of bed. He rubs his eyes and feels better after a shower and doesn’t think anything more of it. And then he wakes up tired the next day. And the next. Eddie wakes up in a gloom and he remembers tossing and turning so restlessly that he’s not actually sure he even fell asleep.

From there it’s a quick slide into running late, losing patience, making largely inconsequential but stupid mistakes at work. He takes one night off from cooking, then two. Christopher doesn’t go without vegetables or protein or crustless sandwiches or any of the other important parts of the preteen food pyramid but he notices the change. Mentions the change to Buck because it doesn’t occur to him to keep secrets like that (not that Eddie would really want him to) and then Eddie finds himself under the compassionate scrutiny of Buck’s gaze with no idea how to explain himself.

So he attempts a simple batch of lemon chicken to prove he’s alright. Then, when Christopher and Buck crack each other up making exaggerated sour faces at each other over the mostly inedible plates that they dutifully try to eat anyway, Eddie doesn’t laugh. He does the dishes himself and he doesn’t turn around when Buck wraps his arms around his waist from behind and rests a chin on his shoulder in a lemon-scented apology.

His body aches. It aches even when work has been easy and he’s angry and he’s fine but also not and he can’t figure out what’s wrong.

“I’m going to bed,” he says, earlier than usual. “Can you check his homework?”

“Yeah, of course,” Buck answers, getting up from the couch even though Eddie deliberately made his announcement from the far end of the living room. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just tired.” Eddie waits and accepts the hand on his forehead as Buck checks to see how warm he is, almost looking more worried when he doesn’t find any trace of fever.

Keeping his hand on Eddie’s cheek, he asks, “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

“Mmm.”

“You’d tell me right? If there was something wrong?”

There’s nothing Eddie can do but nod. He wishes there was something, wishes he knew how to explain it to Buck–to himself for fuck’s sake. He wishes he knew why he’s pulling himself away from Buck’s touch when he wants to melt into it until his body makes sense again.

Buck studies his face, searching for the answers that Eddie can’t give him and then he sighs, gently brushing his hair back before leaning in to kiss him just as gently. “I won’t be up late,” he says. “If you need anything…”

“I will,” Eddie promises.

Fresh spring heat has finally started warming the city and the bedroom is stifling when Eddie closes the door behind him. He cracks both bedroom windows just wide enough to let a breeze in, almost wincing as the smell of jasmine comes in with it, strong enough to make him want to sneeze like a dog does, with his full body and a shake of his head. He leaves the windows anyway, trading one discomfort for another and slides into bed, staring at the whirring blades of the fan until they morph into the shape of their longer, sharper helicopter cousins and stop Eddie’s heart in his chest.

He’s not even in the helicopter. He’s somewhere else. It’s dark and the wind is howling, splattering rain pinging off every surface like flying gravel. Eddie can see through it perfectly. None of the rain streaking down his face impacts his view of the scene at all. He sees Shannon, dressed in sunshine yellow, take a step toward him. Toward the flooded street that’s rushing with whitewater and debris. He screams. But all that comes out of his mouth is blood. When he tries to run, to stop her, to dive in, to rescue her, his legs give out beneath him and he collapses.

A wave crests over the curb and washes Shannon, blood on her clothes and blood on her face, into the river. She vanishes with a choked gasp, reaching for him, and Eddie reaches back, stretching out his hand as far as it will go. There’s blood on his fingers and pooling beneath him and he reaches and reaches, trying to pull himself up, trying to save her, to save both of them, but his body flops uselessly in the rain.

It hurts. And then it doesn’t. And Eddie knows.

He’s going to die.

He’s going to die and he never told Buck- He’s going to die and he hasn’t had enough time with Christopher. He won’t get to explain this to him. He won’t get to see him grow up. He won’t get to see Buck grow old. He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s-

Gasping, Eddie wakes up. It’s still dark; the fan is still spinning. As he struggles to sit up, he can’t get any breath into his lungs. The air is too thick with jasmine, that cloying scent that invades LA every spring, and he puts a hand to his throat like he can claw a fresh opening into his lungs.

So many of Eddie’s worst memories have come in the spring. With this smell in the air. With this light shimmering through the windows. And his body remembers.

“Eddie? Eddie, hey. Eddie, are you okay?” Buck asks, his voice cutting through the fog as one of his strong hands presses between Eddie’s shoulder blades and the other hovers over his thigh. He’s gotten to his knees somehow while Eddie’s been doing all he can just to sit upright and his body is warm and close. That scent of Buck that gets more powerful after he’s been sleeping a while pricks at Eddie’s nose and his windpipe relaxes all at once, finally letting in a mouthful of air.

“That’s it. Just breathe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”

Eddie can hear how hard Buck is working to keep the fear out of his voice for him and he falls in love just a little bit more in that moment. Turning into Buck’s chest, Eddie lets himself fall into his arms, shoving his freezing hands up the back of Buck’s t-shirt and trying to burrow his way inside. Buck only wobbles for a second as he takes Eddie’s weight and then he cradles him close, one hand sliding up into Eddie’s hair and the other wrapping tight around his body.

“It’s okay. It’s alright; I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Christopher is right down the hall. Everybody is okay.”

Effortlessly, Buck soothes the wounds he knows are most likely to be hurting badly enough to wake Eddie in the middle of the night and the gravel sound of his sleep-rough words almost brings tears to his eyes.

His body remembers this too. It knows safety and comfort and strength enough for all of his heaviness. Eddie breathes in Buck–herbal body wash and the tang of sweat, the familiarity of his skin–and, gradually, the terror of his nightmare melts into exhaustion.

“What do you need?” Buck murmurs, stroking through the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck. “Some water? Or we could watch tv for a while?”

Buck can feel Eddie shake his head against his collarbone, but the words aren’t as far away as they sometimes are on nights like this so Eddie reaches for them. “No. Just this. Just stay with me.”

Keep holding me is what he means, but he already feels delicate enough to shred and that additional vulnerability is just a step too far. Buck understands anyway.

“Want to lay back down?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

It takes a minute–Buck’s knees protest the change as he shifts his weight off of them and the blankets are half tangled and half on the floor from the thrashing both of them have done–but eventually they fold themselves together. On their sides, facing each other, Eddie twines his fingers together with Buck’s and gets a squeeze in return, one that promises that this is something he’ll never wake up and find gone.

The chill eases from his bones and the screaming eases from his memories and Eddie tiptoes cautiously back to the edge of sleep. He’s wavering there, resisting the fall, and he feels the mattress shift and feels it creak as Buck shifts beside him.

His fingers brush Eddie’s cheek again, curling around to tilt his head forward, just the smallest bit, and then Buck presses a kiss to the top of his head. He breathes in deep, like he’s reminding himself of something too, and then there’s another kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers. “We’re okay.”

And all of Eddie believes.

#buddie #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #sharing a bed #depression #trauma #nightmares #death mention #should I post this to AO3?#I'd have to title it #I hate titling #allison writes

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