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sarucane · 6 months

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Stede Bonnet's Stories (S1)

My favorite theme (right now) in OFMD is storytelling, and how the characters' stories shape the narrative and one another. In OFMD, stories are how people connect to one another. How they figure out their place in the world around them, how they form communities, how they grow and change. Because stories are also how the characters come to understand themselves.

In the first season, Stede is the loudest and most determined storyteller of them all. He's literally paying someone to follow him around and write his story; he's built the entire ship and outfitted it to create a certain story; he's wearing mad, impractical clothes in a harsh climate to express his personality.

On the one hand, this is a dumb thing to do. The crew can't read the library he's provided for them; his clothes (and incompetence) make his first "raid" a disaster; the pirates are plotting mutiny very quickly indeed. And his attempts to "toughen up" wind up nearly burying the crew in a larger, imperial story of race and class.

On the other hand, it's an immensely brave thing to do. Stede doesn't really try to be "like Blackbeard." He doesn't disguise his accent, wear ugly clothes, or make an example of someone on the crew to show his "iron fist." He is trying to do something genuinely different. To be a gentleman and a pirate. To tell a story that hasn't been told before. And to create space for others to tell a story: when Wee John voices criticism, Stede hands over his own fabrics to the crew and encourages them to "express yourselves." Between the bedtime stories and Stede's lie about Nigel (which is revealed very quickly afterwards), the crew decide they'll try telling his "new" story with him.

At first, the weakness in Stede's story seems to be that he's telling it in the wrong place. That his fiction is too far from reality, which is going to crush his story (as so many stories have been crushed throughout history).

And that is a problem, and his misjudgments wind up with him being betrayed by pirates and almost executed by Spanish naval officers. But it's a solvable problem, with help.

From the moment they meet, Ed and Stede are at their best when they tell stories together. When they work together, they figure stuff out about themselves, they connect with one another and with the crew, and they find a way to write the third story in a world that tells them they have only two options (gentleman or pirate). They make ship into a lighthouse; they bring a kraken to life and finally beginning to understand it; Stede uses his ship's mast and Ed's trick to outwit Izzy; a treasure map yields actual 'treasure'; the ship is invaded by the English, but everyone emerges safe and alive.

But it doesn't last. Because the real weakness of Stede's storytelling isn't the context. It's that Stede doesn't believe it himself.

Stede is doing all this to try to be both a boy worthy of respect from his father, and a boy who picks flowers. He's still defining himself by the terms of the world he came from. By running away, not running towards something.

So, when Chauncey confronts him with his own "monstrousness," Stede believes him. It's all his insecurities come to life. And he believes Chauncey when he says Stede's "brought history's greatest pirate to ruin."

If all Stede will ever be is a "little rich boy," then he needs to stop trying to be something else. Because telling that story means hurting others.

Stede's wrong. Telling a story, even when you don't fully believe it, changes you and the people who listened to your story. And when Stede gives up on his storytelling, the causes and effects circle round: Stede told stories. As a result, other people told stories. And even if Stede stops telling stories, or tries to tell different stories, other people won't.

Stede lied when he confessed to Nigel's murder. Said he deserved to die for leaving his wife and family. But he doesn't die there, because Ed tells his own story about grace, and the crew takes Stede's mad stories as their own.

And because of what Stede did, Mary Bonnet was able to tell her own story, fully and on her own terms. And to believe in it completely. Ed and the crew were able to tell their stories, too--which comes near to an actual transformation.

In the end, it doesn't matter that Stede didn't believe his story. He changed anyway. He created space for other people to change, to tell stories that unraveled his own lies, that saved him from himself. And he awkwardly, finally, figured out what story he wanted to tell. His own truest story.

And to escape the truth he's accidentally been trapped in, Stede tells a story that inverts what he did before. At the beginning of the season, Stede was telling a story that no one believed. That only he even really tried to believe. But in the finale, he stages an elaborate fuckery to tell a story that everyone believes--except him, and the people who matter. Truth materializes from the fiction.

Stede's stories set so many people free. And in the end, when he's brave enough to lie his way to the truth, Stede's stories set him free, too.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #legit i could go on about this for agggges #just about every ep has a storytelling moment or 4 #there's all these nuanced ways the stories affect the plot and each other its so complicated and i love it

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iicheeze · 1 year

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3 MONTHS, 3 DAYS, AND 33 MINUTES

3 MONTHS, 3 DAYS, AND 33 MINUTES MASTERLIST

SUMMARY || you've always had feelings for your gray haired senior. To the point that you'd confess to the man in front of the whole Akademiya. Pitying you, he gives you 3 months, 3 days and 33 minutes to make him fall for you. Let the roller coaster of chaos begin!

PAIRINGS || Alhaitham x Gender Neutral Reader, slight Kaveh x reader

TW || cringe, use of slangs, the opposite of funny i guess idk just read it to see 😭

TAGLIST || @star-star-fall-inlove @nachotrash @baelloraa @itonashi @tanspostsblog @kalpie

(bold means I can't tag you)

CHAPTER I — ugly person thinks they're hot and confesses to crush in front of the whole Akademiya

“ I HAVE DECIDED! TODAY'S THE DAY! ”

Your yells echoed through the dorm hall, surprising everyone currently in it. Yet everyone understands what your words meant.

“ TODAY??? ” “ OH MY GOSH, THEY'RE GONNA DO IT. ” “ HOLY SHIT PREPARE YOUR POPCORNS ”

You've always had a FAT, MASSIVE, UNREQUITED love for a certain gray haired man in your college.

Sure, his personality may not be the best, but good lord, is his tits i mean body gorgeous.

But the thing is,

You two haven't even met yet.

You only saw him when you were running for your life to get into a lecture you're clearly late to.

And boy, did you fall.

Both literally and figuratively.

You may look and be labelled as the delusional weirdo in the college for wanting to confess to the man, BUT!

You still believe you have a chance.

Even if it's below 1%, you'll take the chance.

How will you confess to him?

Easy.

“ I LOVE YOU, ALHAITHAM! WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME? ”

You yelled, getting your feeling off your chest as you kneel with one knee, hand inviting the male in front of you.

However, the man in front of you is currently horrified. Not to mention, disgusted.

First of all, WHO ARE YOU??

Second of all, WHY IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING AKADEMIYA.

Third of all, why do you look like your proposing when you two aren't even acquaintances of any sort.

“ OH MY GOD. SOMEONE'S ACTUALLY BRAVE ENOUGH TO CONFESS TO HIM?? ” “ Bro, they're gonna be executed fr fr.... in public too... ” “ oh shit man, they're gonna get barbequed 😭 ” “ honestly, i'd be down bad for him too ” “ BABE??? ”

“ YES, GO CONFESS YOUR HEART OUT SLAY ” Your friend, Yoimiya cheered at the back of the crowd.

Currently, you and Alhaitham are in the middle of a circle-shaped crowd, all facing your way.

Finally taking time to actually breathe, Alhaitham sighed.

This person definitely belongs in a mental asylum.

“ I- I don't even know your name. ” The [taller/shorter] man exclaimed, “ It's [Name]! [Name] [Last Name]!! I fell in love with you ever since I saw you!! ” You stated loudly, as multiple laughs and chuckles were heard from the crowd.

The man scoffed.

“ Look, [Last Name]. I don't even know you, your major, what you do, what you don't do. How am I even supposed to go on a date with you when both you and I clearly have no knowledge about each other? ”

“ WE COULD GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER!! ” You stated, with a brave tone. In reality, you were breaking down on the inside. Good god, is he actually giving you a chance?? Out of all 1682628272 universe??

You were so pathetic it actually made him pity you. Your attempt was pathetic, your way of confessing was pathetic, good lord, even the way you dress is pathetic. You look even more homeless than a homeless person!

Alhaitham has encountered many types of people. Greedy ones, selfish ones, spoiled ones, ugly ones, pretty ones, kind ones.

Yet he has NEVER, EVER.

Seen a being so pathetic like you.

But he can't help but find this situation a little amusing.

“ Hmph, fine then. How about we make a deal? ” The man asked, tempting the person currently still kneeling on one knee.

“ I will give you the amount of exactly 3 MONTHS, 3 DAYS, AND 33 MINUTES to get you to make me fall for you. If you don't manage to do that, we will never see each other anymore for the rest of this timeline. ”

Was this just an intimidation tactic or is he actually asking for a deal?

“ And what if I manage to make you fall for me before the time limit is up? ” Sparkles seemed to appear around you, hope once again seemed to win the bloody fight of despair.

“ .. We'll see about that. Just to let you know, I'm not an easy man. ” His face grew closer to yours, your nose almost touching his. “ Well, I'm not one to easily give up as well. ” You replied, a smirk plastered on your face.

“ Yeah, we'll see. ” The control of his voice was so immaculate, you can't help but feel shivers down your bones. And upon saying that, he left. Seeming to disappear in the crowd.

Good lord, that was so hot.

You were originally going to stand up from your bone breaking position you've been holding for so long. But....

You realize you can't move.

“ WAIT, I CAN'T MOVE. MY CRAMPS. HAITHAM, HELP ”

author's note: sorry if this chapter is short 😭 the next following chapters will be way longer than this one as this is supposed to be like a prologue or introduction if yk wat i mean HSJHSJS

If there are any questions you can ask them at the comments!! and if there are any mistakes, please tell me!!

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heartslobbf · 11 months

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thoughts on juri gender + juriori 🎤

so many thoughts. arguably too many. i have cherrypicked the ones i think are most interesting/original for you <3

i guess the thing with juri's gender is that she somehow manages to degender herself in the public eye, unless someone like ruka or shiori comes along and prods at her and makes everyone else realise how queer (in both senses) she is. also whilst i love butch juri truthers with my whole heart and think yall rock, she is a femme to me. bc i am a femme and juri is probably the rgu character i most relate to, which is cringe and lame but you know whatever. if i didnt relate to her i would probably be a butch truther too bc i am a butch lover first human second. i think it is her experiences with gender that most resonate with me, bc of how her gender and lesbianism are just. they are one and the same the venn diagram is a circle and it's just like Yeah. im an aromantic lesbian so whilst i have complicated feelings about Girls and have had a handful of teenage lesbian situationships that fucked me up, i dont Quite relate to juri's angst. that's not a critique of it whatosever, to be clear, because the purpose of art is not relatability, but im talking about how juri is relatable to me as a character so you know. you get it.

i have so much love in my heart for people whose fave is juri i really really do. probably because you are all lesbians and i love lesbians. my fave is anthy but a) you knew that already and b) she is also a lesbian and (imho) an aro-spec one at that. anyway you didnt ask about anthy so i prommy i wont talk about her anymore (lie). i also wont talk anymore about my aromantic readings of rgu (lie).

asking me about juriori is a fun one, because you might want a considered analysis of their relationship within canon, and you will get some of that, but you'll also get my unhinged ramblings about shipping culture. i feel i should disclose that by 'shipping culture' i mean shippy fandom antics and not, like, the presence of romantic relationships in rgu. that's super interesting and i have a lot to say about it, but what isn't super interesting to me is like.. committing a lot of time to intricately imagining the adult lives of rgu characters in monogamous amatonormative domestic relationships with one another, or whatever the hell. not juicy or nuanced or messy or interesting TO ME, an aromantic person who loves conflict, so you know. you (generally, not anon) do you, but it doesnt grip me personally. i DO enjoy fanart of the characters aged up and happy, for two reasons: the fashion, and the way that it's thematically consistent with rgu. it's like a glimpse at their future you know?? it's a glimmer of hope, or whatever.

ANYWAY, my hot juriori take is that i dont know if theyd work out as a romantic relationship, but i also wouldnt categorically say they wouldnt, because the whole point of the rgu ending is like 'fuck knows what'll happen, but you better fucking hope and you better believe in these characters' ability to choose for themselves and escape the trappings of the narrative'. whatever happens happens. this is of course problematic when i, as a writer, have occasionally attempted an rgu fic, bc im always like well fuck idk what juriori would be doing!! that's not for me to decide!! and it's like im literally writing this story it 100% is for me to decide and then i just get annoyed about the 'ethics' of writing rgu fic and get sad about forcing these kids into the narrative over and over and give up. im a normal person btw. i envy people who can write banger rgu fic more than anyone on the earth you guys are wizards to me.

juriori are also kind of funny to me bc all of their conflict stems from the cisheteropatriarchy of it all and how that's shaped their perceptions of themselves, each other and the wider world. like they are just the teenage lesbian situationship girlies and i think that's beautiful. just like me fr. you know for me personally, kiryuu sibling aficionado, it's quite nice to think about juriori and reminisce about my own teenage lesbian situationships as a kind of break from all of the Horrors. they're wonderfully (mostly) disconnected from akio in a way that just makes me skip with joy. that being said, if youve ever seen me talk about azure paler than the sky, you know it's one of my top ten episodes of the show and my favourite duel in the show and also, simply, fucking Agonising. i do think that juri episodes, visually, are some of the strongest in the show.

my other big juriori point that i wanna hit is that shiori is soooooooo noli me tangere for caesars i am coded. if youre unfamiliar with whoso list to hunt i know where is an hynde, what i'm trying to say here is that shiori loves to be hopelessly pursued because it's the only meaningful way she can exert power over others as a 'princess'. but princesses cant exert power over others by definition of being princesses, so she's really a witch. just like the deer in whoso list. but im normal about renaissance poetry, what i really want to say is how compelled i am by shiori's witchification and how oblivious so many people are to it when watching the show even though she's literally ourple. you know, the witch colour. and she's a reddish ourple!!! you know, red. the duplicitous bitch colour!!!!!

ourple is arguably also that colour in rgu, but i feel compelled to point out anthytougaisms at all possible opportunities. the anthy-touga-shiori triad is like. world's most concentrated source of internalised homophobia, machiavellian bull and general malintent towards people who sincerely love you. and i love them. especially shiori because truly why is she like that. like i know why she's like that but it's funny to marvel at how deranged she truly is. no one does it like her fr and i have so much love in my heart for her. i think the only rgu kids i actually actively dislike are ruka (still find him fascinating and compelling tho, he's a brilliant character and there is nuance to him. i also just despise him) and miki which is just a me thing. i am aware that it's funny i dont like miki for being a shit brother when i like touga, but you have to understand that my liking touga is complicated and he's only, like, my fourth favourite character when nanami is my second <3 love and light <3 also idk if ive ever said this anywhere but i genuinely love shiori and touga's relationship in aou, not because i think they're like? good together or whatever?? i think theyre both gay so you know whatever, i just find their interactions compelling and like. mannnn. it says so much about a character. the way that they both are around each other. very very interesting.

my final thing that i must assert as a shiori apologist is that she did nothing wrong <3 like if you didnt know that gay people were real and hated your own guts you too would be a java sparrow hurtling into a glass wall youre unable to see. episode 17 makes me feel like a wild animal. also yes i find juri more relatable and yes i think shiori's the more justified of the two, it's partially bc it's funny and also partially bc juri is mean to shiori!! she is!!!! she closes herself off emotionally and refuses even an ounce of vulnerability, for understandable reasons ofc, but then she gets SO MAD when shiori doesnt understand all her microexpressions and confess undying love to her about it. like be for serious juri. i really do love juriori with my whole heart and i think ive articulated why before in my dyke drama post about them. they just make me happy/agonised because i really do resonate in a way i never have with lesbian characters before. like i think juri's character in particular understands the nuances of being a lesbian in a way that just makes me, a lesbian, :)

#thank you for allowing me to ramble anon i hope this is of interest!!#i didnt wanna just like. talk about juriori in a way that would be rehashing other much better posts about them #so you get a ramble about fan reception and other crap <3 #anon #answered #rgu

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lucky-draws · 2 years

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trueee they really cant escape each other lmao. could you maybe talk a bit more about fate and how it connects to bosselot? just if you want to ofc i love how you explain things :) i think that concept is so interesting to think about in a normal way (is also insane about bosselot)

hello!!!!!! tee hee hee im glad my insane words make some sense 2 you. i can surely attempt 2 talk abt bosselot some more + specifically abt fate. hrm . mission commence.

i guess. i suppose there's an element of fate like in a cruel twist of fate way running through the whole saga of the boss, the sorrow, ocelot, snake etc; like when the boss kills the sorrow, neither of them know the other is involved, she doesn't know it's him until they come face to face etc. and they've no choice but for the sorrow to die. star crossed lovers or whatever the hell.

and then in mgs3 its the fuckin. ocelot doesnt even know who the boss is at the start. much less that she's his mother. and he falls in love/is infatuated with snake whilst being totally unaware that snake is later going to kill his mother. thats not exactly fate ig or is it idk what im saying here but like....u know??? its the cruel irony of it all basically. i suppose there's an element of history repeating itself (which is in the wider series a big element ig. never ending cycles.) one must live and one must die, first with the boss + the sorrow and then with the boss + snake.

i guess also hghgfgfm. have u ever seen that post, its in the bosselot tag i think by captmelbourne and it goes like. 'thinking abt ocelot being born from a snake shaped wound and destiny and shit.' and jhghg listen i think abt that always. idk. ocelot being fated to/born to meet snake or something. idk.

i guess actually rather than any sound analysis here i just like the sort of visuals of it. aesthetically. the scar is just a very tasty element of this all. i like the visuals of the mythological red string of fate where uve each got one end of the red string of soulmateness tied to ur finger and it never snaps etc etc EXCEPT LIKE. with bosselot its in like a bad/tragic/evil/weird way. connected by the red snake of i killed your mom fate. red snake of you were born from a snake wound and. i am a snake (???) therefore um it's ..something? (????) . ALSO. ! connected by the blood-red snake of i was literally born on a battlefield (fated to a life of conflict) and you were shaped into a soldier (fated to a life of conflict) by my mother. ..... u know??

and god like ok. big boss giving himself the boss' snake shaped scar in peace walker...... it's all the mirrors or symmetry or parallels. the repetition. ?

+ on subject of parallels: the way they see themselves reflected in each other in relation to the boss. like big boss starting off as the rookie kid mentored by the boss. and then later he then becomes the mentor to ocelot the rookie kid. oh and ocelot just happens to be the son of the boss. ! and also which i guess maybe links to what i already said before abt the coma + the 9 years bringing them equal ish idk.?

i suppose in a wider non-bosselot way maybe there's some kind of fate or full-circleness about ocelot in mgs4 being killed by solid snake. i.e. he was born from a snake shaped wound + was eventually killed by a snake. hm. ...

i guess there’s probably some other stuff im missing or forgor.,i am a little tired sorry but yeah i hope some of this made sense. and if i think of anything else or think of a better way to articulate it then u can be sure i will be inflicting another post abt it on u lol.

OHHHH before i go omg. another thing on subject of paralells/history repeating. and this isn’t an orginal thought or anything obvs everyone has talked abt this but what the HELL is up with the whole. the boss in the ocean. (+ strangelove pulling her out.) and then falling into a coma. > big boss in the ocean. (and we could choose to believe ocelot pulled him out if we really wanted to.) and then falling into a coma. > solid snake in the ocean (and otacon pulling him out.) LIKE THIS SERIES IS JUST THE SAME THING OVER ANDOVER. ourou fucking boros. !!!!

so yes anyway!!!! thank u for indulging and allowing my bosselot insanity i am glad u are also really normal (insane) about these two. :-)))))) thank u for dropping by!! feel free to ask anything else etc etc ! o7

#lisette mumbles #yeah.............................yeah...........#yeah?#yeah.#bosselot #top secret documents

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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Small Actions (Create Big Ripples) CC!Plat!Ranboo x GN!Reader

I've been thinking lately about this little drabble and it makes me a bit upset? Like.. I'm in this position high key but theres nothing I can do about it...

(R/R/n) stands for Ranboo's real name. Also if you're really tall.... No you're not. Shhhh. For plot purposes

You stayed away from social media as much as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, you used to love watching Youtubers play their games and happily interact with their fans.. But growing up, you never seemed to have enough money to donate when they streamed, or go to events where they were.

You had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped you through life, or shaped your personality.. Or saved you. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it..

You'd probably just get a simple, "Aw. Happy I could help." Before turning back to their game without blinking twice.

So, you just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show your appreciation.. But you never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'

Eventually it hurt too much to keep watching the content creators that raised you, so you just stopped and went on with your life.

It was hard, but at least you didn't have to deal with the fact that you would never be able to thank the people you watched for making your life that much better.

As time went on, while you still heard about the creators, it was just... less. Now people were non stop blabbering about these people from something called the DreamSMP?

Your sister was obsessed with it to say the least, and you always heard her mumbling about strange people like Technoblade? Or Sapnap? And apparently some people had children with inanimate objects?! Like a Samsung Fridge and a salmon?! Yeah you didn't even bother trying to understand what she was rambling about most of the times. It just spun your head in circles.

"Okay, I gotta take my mutt to the vet," Your sister and closest friend, (S/n), tilted her head towards the backseat to her dog as you sat in the passenger seat. "You think you'll be good to do the shopping for two or so hours? I'll call when I'm finished, and plus I know how you can get distracted with looking at some things."

"Yeah, I think I'll be good." You nodded slightly, going over the list in your hand of things to get for your classes, food and just some clothing for the changing seasons.

(S/n) pulled into the parking lot and looked you over briefly, "You forgot your mask didn't you?" She watched as your hands flew up to your face to feel for the fabric, but you didn't find it so you fished through the pockets of your sweater before smiling nervously at the driver. "Uuugggggggghhhh. Of course. Okay, I got a new one from the merch store that you can use, but do not damage it! I spent a whole $30 on it!"

Scoffing as you rolled your eyes, you snagged the half white and half black mask away from her, "You and your merch. Honestly, (S/n), your obsession scares me. But anyway, thanks. I won't get it damaged, I swear." You pulled the mask onto your face after giving her a smile and walked into the store as she drove off.

Sighing slightly, you walked in, sanitized your hands, and set off on your journey to find the things you needed. Surprisingly, today seemed to be a good day as you miraculously pulled the card that didn't have the busted wheel!

Humming a soft tune to yourself, you paced up and down aisles in search of (S/n)'s favourite coffee. Pausing for a moment as you scanned the shelves, you finally spotted it and made a noise of anger as you realized it was on the very top shelf. "Oh, I hate it here..." You mumbled, a phrase you had picked up from your sister who was really big on trends like that.

Grumbling to yourself, you stood on the tips of your toes, jumped up and down, even climbed the shelves a small bit, but it just seemed to brush by your fingertips every time. Apparently it had been long enough to the point where someone had wandered into the aisle as well.

"Hey... Uh.. Nice mask? You need help?" A male voice asked very hesitantly making your head turn towards him. He was t a l l and literally could tower over you if you got close enough. He had fluffy dirty blonde hair possibly? It looked a little damp so you couldn't really tell. Rain had been in the weather report, but guess it couldn't hold off long enough. Oddly enough, he was wearing dark sunglasses and the exact same mask as you?

'Maybe he's a fan of one of (S/n)'s fandoms?' You stepped back with a sheepish smile and a blush. "Oh! Yes please! Uhm.. Also, could you tell me about what these masks represent? This is my sister's... And I kinda want to make sure I'm not looking like I'm part of some gang or something."

The tall boy reached up for the coffee before pausing midway through and looking at you in surprise. "You don't know who... Oh, it's just from a Twitch Streamer.." He murmured rather softly as he got the coffee down for you.

With a cheerful "Thank you!" You placed the container in the cart. "Oh? Yeah that makes sense. My sister loves that kind of stuff. Are they... A good person?"

"I-I'd like to think so." He nodded quickly. "Are you not.. Like, a fan of content creators? Like.. Uh.. Dream or (P/F/C)?" (Past favourite creator)

"Well... I mean I used to really like (p/f/c) when I was younger. But it kind of... Saddened me, you know?"

He looked at you again and tilted his head a bit, "Saddened you? Did they do something bad?"

"No no! It's just... I try to avoid joining fandoms, even if they make me really happy while in them despite the toxicity. I really enjoy the people who create content, and I like watching them have fun... It's just.." Were you really gonna spill some personal stuff to some stranger who showed you the slightest bit of kindness? Not originally. But he kept watching you, patiently waiting for you to continue the sentence. "They'll... Never know.. How much they saved me."

"Oh.. I see. Yeah.. I've had that happen a lot. When, I watch this guy's streams," He pulled at his mask for a moment, "People always donate money and tell him how much they appreciate him for getting them through rocky times.. It's heartwarming to say the least but he does sound genuinely thankful."

"Oh that's sweet.. What does he do? Or what's he like?" You asked with a smile, although he couldn't see it, as you crouched down to get something from the sheleves. "Unless you have places to be of course!"

He looked a little surprised at first, "Ah... I got time. It's just.. Kinda nice being able to talk to people again after quarantine..." He trailed off briefly before taking something off the shelf as well and putting it in his basket, "Uh.. The streamer is a popular minecraft player. He recently hit a record during a stream and everyone lost their minds. He's a little painfully awkward at some points but he enjoys playing the games and interacting with his chat."

"Oh he sounds nice! I would definitely want to friends with someone like him!" You chuckled softly before frowning and glancing away. "Oh.. Popular.. So I'd be another comment in the flood of a chat.. Damn. I got a little excited. Oh! My bad, I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you!" You laughed softly in an attempt to brush off the sad atmosphere you made.

"(R/r/n). But everyone just calls me Ranboo. Nice to meet you too." He sounded as if he was smiling but there was a soft sadness in his tone. "Do you not like popular streamers then?"

"No, it's just... that I had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped me through life, or shaped my personality.. Or saved me.. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it.. I suppose it just left me feeling a bit hopeless and like a broken record of every other fan of theirs. So, I just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show appreciation.. But I never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'.."

Ranboo seemed slightly more upset and he shifted his basket into his other hand, "I don't think it's like that at all.. I believe that streamers and creators truly cherish anyone who even interacts with their videos, and even though they know there's some people in the world who can't say anything or buy their merchandise, the creators still know that they're there. They appreciate everyone who comes along their path, whether they support them by giving them money, criticism or their attention!"

You blinked at how... Passionate your new friend was about this topic before smiling softly. "I guess... It never passed my mind.. Thank you Ranboo.. Hey, you wanna be friends and get to know each other more?"

His expression was unreadable due to the fabric covering his mouth and nose, and the glasses covering his eyes. "Oh! Sure!" He sounded quite happy, so you were guessing that you weren't being too awkward. "Here's my number, as long as you promise to never give it to anyone. Even if someone wants to get to know me, okay?"

You took out your phone and looked at him with a strange expression, but quickly nodded. 'Maybe he is just really strict about his privacy.' Once he gave you the number, you sent a quick text to him to give him your contact in return. "Great! It was wonderful meeting you, I hope we can hang out more often! After.. covid of course."

Eagerly nodding, Ranboo finished writing your contact into his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Oh yeah definitely! I'll see you soon, (Y/n)!"

Parting your separate ways, you looked down at the newly added contact, 🤍Ranboo🖤 (Platonic hearts), with a smile.

Maybe small actions weren't as useless as you thought...

#ranboolive #ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo dreamsmp #ranboo dsmp #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #reader insert #x reader

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nat-20s · 3 years

Note

#10?

prompt 10- recognizing the other's voice in a crowded room

so uhh u didn't specify this being a pairing, and it ended up jonmartin lol

this is like? an au where one of the domains of the lonely (and also maybe stranger) plays off the specific loneliness that comes with parties. u kno the one, where you have fun for about an hour and then realize that you're fundamentally isolated and you need a breather?

anyway

~*~

Upon opening his eyes, he is not where he last remembers being. He is not sure how long his disorientation will last, but considering he's standing up right, at the edge of a crowded ballroom, he suspects it may be the entire time that he's here.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, the TV blaring away on a program he didn't know any of the details of. It hadn't mattered what was playing, as long as it had some of the natural rise and fall of other people speaking. He had been severely mising that lately, those gentle rhythms of conversation, and trying to listen to an audiobook while staring at his bedroom's popcorn ceiling just wasn't cutting it. So, TV dreaming it was.

Oh, that could be what was going on. An elaborate dream, constructed from the sound of a scenario he hadn't paid any attention to. He didn't think he'd fallen asleep watching anything to spark this kind of dreamscape, but that didn't mean much. It'd be oddly lucid, for a dream. And oddly sharp. His dreams, much like his memories, were always somewhat clouded over, and never as colorful as reality. Even his grayest waking days, of which there were many, had colors more distinct than what appeared in his mind's eye.

Simple test: he could never read or write in dreams. The words always swirled and distorted, and he somehow lost all manual dexterity. He needed a book, or a pencil, or both. He began to wander the ballroom, and abruptly realized that this was a masquerade, everyone wearing elaborate costumes with animal shaped masks. Did he fit in? Did he belong? He hoped he wasn't in what he fell asleep in, the worn hoodie and sweatpants barely worth making a grocery run in. The outside world wasn't supposed to see him looking comfortable, but presentable. He liked to think that if he left the apartment appearing at least somewhat put together, maybe people would believe that extended to other areas of his life. That it would be easier to ignore the increasingly dark circles under his eyes, that his nice sweater had been getting gradually looser as the tool of everything literally wore him down.

Small mercy, he wasn't like that now. A glance down showed that he was, like the rest of the guests? Captors? dressed to the nines. He has a suspicion that his own elaborate outfit, dark blues with gold and pearl embroidery, was a part of it. It was not a mercy to blend in here, it was a design element. Standing out would result in being noticed, being noticed meant being seen as an individual, and they can't have that.

It is with that line of thinking that he suddenly becomes aware of the weight of the mask on his face, the restriction of his sight through eyeholes. Looking into a teapot that's been polished to a mirrored shine, he see that he bears the incredibly crafted face of a field mouse. It would almost be plain, if it didn't have matching embroidery to his coat.

Fitting, he thought. It made him look smaller than he was, and he had so often wished to go unnoticed. A fly would've also worked, but he imagines it would be rather hard to make that into a suitably beautiful mask. Either way, he was level with the rest of the crowd. Even believing it to be part of the trick, even knowing that the masquerade was meant to make you false, there was some level of comfort to it. He was not going to be seen here. Instead someone more handsome, more charming, more even with his peers was allowed to take his place, as false as they were. Best of all, that's what all of them would be doing here, the whole appeal of a masquerade in leaving behind the person you loathe most and can never be free from.

Seems lonesome, for a party. So structured around the theater of it all. You can connect with countless people, and you don't get to actually connect with any of them at all.

Oh.

Oh, now this made all made sense. Crave interaction, and get a warped version of it.

He could see the napkins, emblazoned with a name that he didn't recognize, presumably the host, and, in much smaller font, the company name. Every one of them was consistent.

Easy enough to receive the message. This wasn't a dream. This was a punishment.

Hmm. Well, no, punishment might be the wrong term. Punishment implied that it was a consequence, a direct cause and effect of doing something wrong, by someone's definitions of "wrong". No this was. Torture is too strong of a word, and again, has the problem of making this seem willful. Deliberate. And maybe it was, but more likely, whatever this was had just sort of happened. A cruelty that comes with being in the universe they all happen to occupy.

This wasn't a dream. This was a consequence.

He doesn't know how to get out of here. He can't see any doors, and exits. The only approximation of one is some giant frosted glass that seem like they might lead to a balcony. They're only on the other end of the ballroom, but that lengths feels impenetrable, like it spans for miles and miles of harsh terrain.

There's a few options available to him.

One: Try to fall asleep, and see if he can get back to where he started. Lowest effort option, but he's pretty sure he hasn't been this fully awake in months. Maybe years. Something about the environment makes it feel as though electricity sparks throughout his entire body. It's an interesting sensation, certainly, akin to anxiety taken to an extreme degree, yet it's not particularly conducive to sleeping.

Two: Make a break for it. He doesn't know if there's anywhere to make a break for, but he also isn't sure how high up this place is. Maybe the balcony is a viable option for escape. Or maybe he'll find a door that had previously been hidden from him. Hell, maybe he won't fully escape, but he'll find somewhere quieter at the very least. Somewhere that he doesn't leave him so thoroughly dazed. This is probably the best option, even account for the wall of people surrounding him. But.

Option Three: Join the Dance.

Inadvisable. Foolish, really. The best outcome is..what? Is there a best outcome? Worst outcome is he's dancing forever, until his feet wear down to stubs of bone, until he dies, until he cant remember anything but the dance. Never a connection with any dancer, all of them, eventually, a blur of activity and nothing more.

Yet, it's what he's going to do. He's not the most curious person he knows, that honor goes to a man that he's been in love with for years, but can't grasp any of the details of while he's here. That can't be good. What was his name?

Anyway. He's not the most curious, but he's hardly immune to a detrimental sense of interest. He wants to know what the dance is like. He wants to see the intricate costumes of the others stuck here, and see if there's anything behind the masks. He knows it will, inevitably, leave him lonelier. He knows, inevitably, that he does not care. At least this version of loneliness is more interesting than sitting in his flat, wondering whether having thin enough walls to hear the echo of his neighbors' voices would make things better or worse. So, when someone approaches, adorned in a shrew mask, hand outstretched to pull him into the fervor, he accepts.

The dancer is competent. Neither of them steps on the others foot, and he lets himself be led. Even better, the dancer is willing to talk. A man named Tom, his voice cheerful even as he confirms that he doesn't know how he came here either. Tom shrugs when he asks if this bothers him, saying if you're going to end up somewhere mysteriously, gliding across a ballroom with a handsome stranger is hardly the worst place to be.

It takes a second for him to register the fact that Tom's flirting. It makes him laugh, and it feels wrong in his throat. The sound is unfamiliar, almost belonging to someone else, but it's brief enough not to hurt. He'll grieve all the time he's lost later, for now, he says, "How would you know if I'm handsome with this mask? Or are you just making a flattering guess?"

Tom opens his mouth to answer, a grin on his features that suggest something playful and wry is about to come out, but then the song ends. They both know, somehow, that the brief rapport they've gotten to enjoy has come to an end. They swap partners, and as much has he would like a second dance, when Tom gets swept into the throng, he knows he won't be seeing him again.

The next dancer is at a higher skill level at him, which results in nerves encroaching on what limited ability he has. Perhaps the peacock mask should've been a tip off. He doesn't speak to them, more focused on trying to keep up. He doesn't regret that they'll only have one dance, but he is slightly remiss that his own costume doesn't have feathers after watching the way they move.

The dancer after that catches him for a slow dance. Her name is Shelia, and he's never seen such a dazzling smile. He tells her as such, and she tells him that she would tell him the same, but she hasn't actually seen his own, yet. He makes an attempt, and she tells him, "Oh honey, you're waiting for someone here, aren't you?"

When he states his confusion, that nobody comes to mind, or at least, that nobody is going to come, she shakes her head. Apparently, she can always tell when her dance partners have somewhere else to be, and she doesn't resent it, but it does mean she's not going to give him her number for after the night ends. He's amazed she believes this night will end, but it's a sentiment that seems far too rude to voice out loud.

He also knows that he doesn't have somewhere else to be. If he did, he would've never joined in.

The music continues, and so does he. He tries to get names, tries to get connections. He flirts with Mark, and Nadia, and Jamie. Those people are his favorite during the dances, but losing the also feels the most acute. Robert is his least favorite, even more so than the peacock, for how incredibly small the fox makes him feel. Nothing is even said, it's just the entirety of body language screams that Robert doesn't think he belongs here, that he's not worthy of the clothes he's wearing or the hall he's haunting. Ironically, he's right. He doesn't belong here. These clothes, these people, are not his. Only Robert is quite so skilled at making that seem like a bad thing.

About ten dances in, long past the point he should be winded, he realizes two things. One, there's no pain in his feet, no heaviness to his breathing, confirming once again that no aspect of this environment is natural. Two, is that he's actually had a path. Sometime in the spins and leads and follows, he had been making his way towards the center of the floor. He denies the next partner, likely the worst of a faux paus in this environment, but he needs a moment to stop. Taking in the scene, he has yet to find the source of the music, but he has found the host of this party.

There's nothing to physically show that he's the host. His costume isn't particularly ostentatious, at least not compared to the rest of them. He's not surrounded by a horde of people clamoring for his attention. He doesn't glow or sparkle or have a spotlight on him. The only reveal of his status is the fact that the second he looks at the man in the owl mask, fear floods through him.

Now he needs to run. He needs to leave, he needs to get out, he can't let the man in the owl mask see him, let alone approach him. Pushing his way through the crowd is a bad idea, will bring too much attention to himself. However, he's not in a state to think about that sort of thing, panic gripping his actions. As he shoves his way past one person, he swears ten more people tke their place, and he, oh so close to despair, is unable to tell if there's any actual distance being put between him and the owl masked man.

As he's about to start biting, clawing, screaming his way out any way he can, he hears something that makes him stop.

"Let him go, or I will make you let him go."

The statement is cold, filled with vitrol and determination. It should only make him more afraid. But as he turns around, he sees someone he never expected to be here, someone who has come here anyway. In an all black outfit, the man's face is covered with that of a cat's, but he has not a single ounce of doubt as to who it is. And he's facing off against the owl man, the absolute fool. He's facing off against the owl man, and Martin knows that it's on his own account. What the hell? He can't...he doesn't know what's going to happen to him, what exactly the owl man is going to do, but he can't let Jon get hurt. Begging his voice to pierce through the pandemonium of people and noise, he calls out, "JON!"

Jon finds him in an instant, eyes locking. They only have a second before the crowd pushes in, before the owl man reaches out, wing-like cape ready to wrap Jon up and snatch him away. Jon simply calls out, "Balcony!" before he's once again out of sight. Martin wants to go towards him, wants to follow the instinct to try and protect the one he loves, but going forward is impossible.

The tempo and volume of the music has swollen, and he's surrounded by hands reaching out, trying to pull him in. One of those hands, much to his surprise, belongs to Tom. He stares, uncomprehendingly, and Tom shoves his hand out even further in an act of urgency. He has to participate to make progress.

He holds on tight, all the basic skill of their first dance lost. It doesn't matter, as long as Martin participates, he is rewarded. When the next song begins to play, Tom strengthens his grip, and they manage to prevent the switch. In a manner of minutes, or perhaps hours, they make their way to the edge of the crowd. Martin can see those beautiful frosted doors only about 10 meters away, mostly unobstructed, and releases Tom from their dance. "Thank you. I seriously didn't think..just, thank you."

Tom gives him a nod, his expression much more solemn than it had been during their initial meeting. "After our first dance, I remembered my kids. A daughter and son. If they're out there, wherever out there is, I need to get back to them. If you can get yourself out, maybe there's hope for the rest of us, yeah? I think you might be a tipping point."

Martin had no idea if that was true. Sounded a bit too..center of the story for him. The hero, the chosen one, he was never going to fufill those roles. But. But he doesn't know what a denial would serve, and if he can go through those doors, who knows? "Yeah...yeah, maybe. I'll certainly try."

Tom clasps one of Martin's hands between both of his own, and with a quick shake, tells him, "That's all I ask."

In a blink, Tom has once again been swallowed by the fray, and Martin strides to his goal. He catches glimpses of the owl man out of the corner of his eye. Despite the sight making his heart race, the owl man never makes it to him, almost as if the dancers had forcibly blocked his path. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can turn against someone in a matter of moments. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can decide to help someone in the same span of time.

As Martin stands in front of the exit to the balcony, he has to take a breath. This could be a trick. A trap. A cruelty. If it is, he'll deal with it. If not, well.

Well.

The doors are heavy, but he's still able to push them aside. The sight outside is incredible. The stars are dazzling, brilliant, and numerous, resembling themilky way that Martin has only ever seen in pictures.

It's wrong. It's obviously wrong. Martin's never been anywhere remote enough to escape the effects of light pollution, and he's pretty sure a brightly lit manor isn't the exception to that rule. Yet, that's not what's bothering him about it. He can't quite articulate why, but the sky in general should be..different. Worse, maybe. Greener?

Jon is staring up into the night sky with a fascination that confirms Martin's suspicion. After he takes a step towards him, Jon turns towards him, and a smile appears that knocks the breath right out of Martin. When has Jon ever smiled at him like that? It doesn't make sense, feels like another trick of the party, but Martin decides he doesn't care, he'll enjoy it while it lasts. "I have to say, this is definitely one of the nicer looking domains we've wandered through. Always a plus when we end up somewhere without any bloodstains."

That's not... "Huh?"

With an aftertaste of a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, Jon tells him, "Just that, for as much as I despise the loneliness, it does at least have cleanliness going for it."

He knows of the fears, at least, but the way that Jon is talking about them doesn't make sense. He's going to ask about it, try to get some clarification, but then Jon takes off his mask. There's more grey at the temples than he remembers, more eyes than the average person, and he's stunningly beautiful. Martin's always found Jon rather good looking, even when he didn't particularly like Jon himself (god, what a fool he was. Maybe what a fool they both were). Combined with the softness in the line of his mouth, the adoration in his eyes, it leaves Martin breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Feet moving of their own accord, he drifts closer to Jon. Once he's standing in front of him, Jon reaches up, then pauses, as if asking for permission. Half in a daze, Martin nods, then leans down. Ever so gently, Jon lifts Martin's mask off. The pinpoints of contact between his face and Jon's fingers almost burn, and he realizes that despite the electrified sensation under his skin, he's been cold this entire time. Mask fully off, Jon beams at him, and lets out a quiet, "There you are."

It's too much. It's the tipping point for him to go from enamoured back to properly baffled. "Jon, I don't..what are you doing here?"

Jon smile drops, and Martin almost wants to take it back. Almost, because he needs answers, because if this is a dream, if this is a nightmare, it's more wicked than he could've ever expected. Being stuck forever in a dance with only partners whose greatest talents were being alone in a crowd is one thing, but having a..a false Jon, one that regarded him with...that acted like...that felt anything close to the same as Martin was so..exacting. When it got taken away, when the illusion shattered, it would hurt. It's already hurting, anticipation of the wound causing a phantom pain. Jon's brows are furrowed, and at least that is familiar, expected. "I..thought you would want to leave. I came to get you out."

"I do," did he?, "but that still..that's not the why? Why would you come for me?"

"Because I love you? I know I'm not much for the swashbuckling hero role, bit I figured that would make me rather uniquely qualified."

Martin sucks in a breath through his nose and his eyes go wide. Ability to read be damned, this is a dream, and mean one at that. He's going to wake up, and he's going to remember, and he's going to be as alone as he's always been. "Since when? You're not..I think we've just started being friends, and it's not even, fuck, we're not even that close! And even if..if things were in development, which they aren't, you're supposed to be in America right now. Or, no, wait you're in a coma, or maybe..no, that's not-"

Martin's spiralling is abruptly cut off by Jon taking his hands. Looking at his face, he finds Jon staring back, his eyes, his two eyes, are searching him, and Martin realizes he might not be the only one that's lost right now. "Martin...what's the last thing you remember?"

A mostly empty flat, the delightful mix of insomnia and exhaustion, and the TV with the volume turned down low enough to not bother anyone but himself. The context around that scene is a bit fuzzier. "I..was at my place. It was..I dunno, it was boring."

"Anything else. Do you remember Jane Prentiss?"

"Of course I remember Jane Prentiss. Not likely to ever forget the worst two weeks of my life."

"What about Scotland?"

Scotland? "I'm mean, I've never been, but I, uh, am aware of the concept."

Except that wasn't quite true, was it? He had been to Scotland, and Jon had been there, but when? Why? What had they..

Jon's frown deepens. "Martin, do you trust me?"

He did. Despite everything, or maybe because of an everything he couldn't quite access, he really, really did. His response of "Yes" is more of a breath than a word, but Jon understands nonetheless. Jon reaches up, places his hands on the sides of Martin's face, and tells him, "Close your eyes."

Martin does as told, and Jon brings their foreheads together, an approximation of a kiss. There's a buzzing at the base of his skull, not painful, but not particularly pleasant, either. As Jon leans back and he opens his eyes, the sky is wrong, but it is the wrong that he has become increasingly accustomed to.

He remembers.

Jon hasn't fully released him yet, asking still ever so gently, "Back with me?"

Martin nods, and Jon drops his hands. Immediately, Martin grabs one of them with his own, because while it may be the apocalypse, at least he can do that as freely as he likes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good, " he looks down, and sighs, "Eugh. Do miss the clean clothes though."

Jon gives a hint of a smile, and as he begins to move forward. "Now you understand my point about the lonely having a tidiness to it."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll take grime over memory loss any day."

"Next domain is a corruption one, so we'll see how much that holds true."

"Of course it is."

They walk in silence for a few moments until Martin gives Jon's hand a quick squeeze. "Hey Jon?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for getting me out."

Jon replies, "Of course," as an easy statement of fact, and Martin believes it. He has to add, "And I love you too."

The responding smile he gets from Jon makes him think he might be one of the few people in existence to feel lucky after the end of the world.

#replies #fluff prompts #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jon sims #anon

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karmelek-writes · 3 years

Text

comfort zone I part 3

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 4,5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, smut, adult themes

A/N: Hey guys! This is part three of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking the series! Also, sorry for the delay. The next part will come out on Friday, as usual. Let me know what you think of this part! (sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language plus this part wasn't proofreaded)

Love, W 🖤

When you entered Tom's bedroom you immediately felt your tensed body softening as the smell of Tom intoxicated your senses. There wasn't another place on this earth you felt more comfortable in than his room. It wasn't big but the cream-painted walls and huge mirror in the middle made it seem vaster. There wasn't much furniture, just all the necessities, but you had to admit that Tom had been keeping his room clean and fresh. It was typical, yet lego Death Star set and spiderman figures arranged neatly on a bedside table screamed Tom. You kept teasing him about this but in reality, you found it endearing. The souvenirs he brought home from the places he had visited were dusting on the shelf, reminding him of good old days having fun on set and hanging out with the cast after work. What always got your attention was his cartoon figure leaning on the wall next to his bed. He got it for his birthday after landing the role of spiderman as a joke from Harrison, his brothers, and you. Even when Tom was younger everyone knew he was born to act. His family and friends would tease him about it calling him a movie star which always made him fuss around. When he finally made it to Hollywood, you all knew what you had to do. You told him that you all had a surprise purposely hyping it up. Judging by his reaction you expected him to throw it out but he kept it. At times Tom was a nerd but it made you like him even more because despite becoming a literal movie star, he never stopped being this little cute boy who still slept in spiderman pj's he was gifted on his 19th birthday.

The cartoon figure was what you were looking at when Tom cleared his throat and locked the door. The action made you turn around to glance at him with confusion written all over your face. His focused gaze and sudden shift of behaviour confirmed your suspicion that it was going to be a serious conversation.

"So… Are we going to talk about what happened?" Tom's nervous voice rang in your ears making your heart rate speed up. You knew that was the moment you had to confront him about your feelings. “Because for the last couple of days I’ve been thinking about everything. I would hate to leave like that.”

“I know,” you sighed mentally preparing yourself to recite the speech you’ve created in your mind in advance. “Look, ever since I met you I feel like my life has gotten better. I never thought I would have such an amazing person in my life,” in the corner of your eye you saw Tom smiling excitedly at your compliment. His honey-brown eyes were sparkling and you had to stop yourself from hugging him and running your hand through his messy curls. “What happened between us was sudden and I’ve said it already, I don’t regret it. Actually, I’m quite happy with how things turned out,” you chucked at the end hoping it would relieve the stress and hesitation in your voice. Your words were all that brunette needed to confirm that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. In the room illuminated by the moonlight, Tom’s silhouette moved closer to you. Having approached you, he touched your exposed arm and traced his fingers up so gently as if he was scared he would break you if he pushed harder. His hand on your body caused shivers to appear and a slight flush crept into your cheeks. You hated and loved the contact silently hoping he would give you more. It seemed like your thoughts were heard as Tom slowly but confidently started to walk you backwards until you fell on his unmade bed. He leaned as close as he could, placing both arms on the sides of your head making it impossible for you to escape.

"I don't want to leave you here," he fussed, highly aware that the next few weeks were going to be hell without you lulling him to sleep, inquisitively going on and on about your day. Resisting the urge to pout you tried to overcome the feeling of sadness slowly accumulating in your chest.

"And I don't want you to leave," a deep sigh escaped your lips, pushing back the thought of him flying away the following day. "But we are here now, so what are you going to do about it?" you extended your arm to grasp Tom's messy curls, daring him to cross the boundary unconsciously set up the moment you've become friends to dive in the pleasure. Tom didn't give you a verbal answer, but knowing that actions speak louder than words, he lowered himself to place a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. The cracked lips caused a wave of shivers to run down your spine, your stomach dropping as you felt sudden wetness between your legs. Mixed with the wet marks left by Tom's tongue, the sensation made your eyes shut, spots emerging in front of them. All your senses were keen, escalating the intensity of the experience.

Tom was determined to work you up as he unhurriedly worshiped your body. A deep moan followed by a throaty “fuck” were the sounds at which you opened your eyes. Your longing stare met Tom’s one and you could swear right then, right there you had never seen a more mesmerising sight. Brunette’s once soft strands now had stuck to his forehead glistening from the sweat. His usually pale cheeks were now painted deep pink - a result of his unholy thoughts combined with the sight of your perfectly shaped body. Eyes dark with desire, hungry to capture every inch of your figure. You noticed beads of sweat dripping on your already wet chest, your shirt clinging to your torso enhancing curves you’d work so hard on at the gym. Lifting yourself on your elbows you signed to Tom to help you strip. You weren’t a self-conscious person, nor were you hesitant to show your figure, but you didn’t like to preen yourself on it. However, you felt the rush of confidence wash over as you caught Tom lustful ogling and wanted to take control of the situation. Shifting from underneath you poked Tom’s chest and pushed him to lay down. Foggy mind and the burn you’d felt on the skin still were dislimning your senses causing you to clumsily collapse at the top of Tom in your attempt to straddle him. Silent ouchs followed by a breathy laugh falling from the boy’s lips made your heart clunch in embarrassment. Much to your surprise, he kissed you as if he wanted to assure you that he didn’t find your awkwardness unnerving. In the few seconds of your make-out session, you recomposed yourself and broke the kiss wanting more as the throbbing between your legs became unbearable.

In the heat of a moment, you took off your bra leaving your breasts exposed for Tom to admire. You didn’t miss how his pupils dilated and his mouth went dry just by gaping at you. This fueled up your nerve leaving no place for doubt and hesitation in your mind. Shamelessly, you rocked your hips against his own at a slow pace. Grunts and scratchy moans could be heard, falling from Tom’s lips like prayers begging for your pleasure. With his eyes shut and fists clenched, he couldn’t look more beautiful, more vulnerable, falling into pieces for you. Finding pleasure in the position and the power you hold over him, you let yourself get lost in the bliss of his hard cock sliding through your folds, the tip teasing your sensitive clit in a steady motion. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Tom lifted himself until he was on an eye level with your chest, his mouth immediately clinging to your breasts, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple. Slowing down your pace, you cupped Tom's face and connected your lips in an aggressive kiss, teeth brushing and tongues intertwined. Fighting for dominance, Tom flipped you so that he was on top. Groaning, you brought him impossibly close leaving no space between your sweaty and hot bodies. Tom's little whimpers were more often now that he was thrusting into your hips, trying to bring himself closer to the limit. Knowing you couldn't last much longer you moved your hand to slip it into your undergarment only for Tom to stop you to do it himself. He licked his fingertips and shoved it into your panties, rubbing your clit in circles.

“That’s okay, cum for me baby,” Tom muttered, trying hard to catch his breath. Completely lost in the moment, you obeyed his command and let go of the tight knot that formed in your stomach. The sensation of Tom’s body pressing against you and his fingers playing with the heart of your femininity caused you to almost black out, starts appearing in front of your eyes. Letting out a pornographic moan, you tried to arch your back gripping the sheets so hard your skin turned white. You couldn’t tell for how long you were wiggling under your best friend’s body but it felt like hours until you were able to get back to reality.

Coming down from your high you took notice of a wet stain on Tom’s trousers. You opened your mouth to say something but he cut you off offering you some fresh clothes and a glass of water. Not thinking much, you accepted his little acts of care and walked past him to change in the bathroom.

Having closed the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to calm your racing heart. While you were getting dressed Tom was silently freaking out. He could’t believe that you went this far. It still felt like a dream to him. At that moment he hated his lifestyle, he hated his profession that required him to fly away the following morning, splitting you up in the worst time. Maybe he could convince you to go with him? No, it was crazy. You had your life here, it wouldn’t be fair to take it away.

Tom’s running thoughts were cut off by the click of the door followed by your silhouette emerging from the room with a small smile. Tom returned the gesture and nodded at the bed, silently asking if you wanted to lay down with him. Getting back on the soft mattres, you let out a sigh contemplating if you should bring up your feelings. Truthfully speaking, you didn’t know how to act and it seemed like so did Tom. He sat down at the foot of the bed, facing away from you. He was scratching the nape of his neck - a habit that always betrayed his nervosity. He then suddenly stopped and it seemed like he came to terms with himself as he turned around to look at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes and imperceptibly bleeding lip. He had to bite it to prevent it from trembling but the pressure was hard enough to rip the fragile skin of an organ. You couldn’t read anything from the look on his face and it scared you. Not thinking much you embraced him from behind placing your forehead against the side of his face. You wanted him to feel you, to detect that you were there for him.

“I-I don’t want to l-leave,” a broken stutter left his lips, repeating the words he had used before.

“I know, but people expect you to go,” you whispered to him, slowly rocking you two from side to side to the sound of the clock tickling and driving cars coming from outside the window.

“Tell me something that will make me stay,” his words echoed in the quiet room, so desperate and calling for help. Not thinking much you blurred out the first thing that came to your mind.

“I think I’m falling in love with you and that scares me but I don’t want you to go either,” before you got a chance to register your confession, Tom wrenched himself away from you to see if you were serious. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for jokes so when he identified your stoned expression he knew you meant every single word. Suddenly, a way of regret and pity washed over him, not being sure how to tell you the truth without breaking your heart.

“I… That’s… Um…” he tried to initiate the conversation but his mind was so fogged from regret and miscomprehension.

“You don’t feel the same?” you more of stated with so much heartbreak in your voice it took everything in Tom not to lie and tell you he’s always loved you to fix his mistakes. He stopped himself from it because you deserved something better than that. On the spur of the moment, he cupped your face hoping it would help him get to you easier.

“I love you, I really do but…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. It would kill him to watch your face fall with disappointment and sorrow, let down by the only guy who promised to cherish you forever.

“You don’t have to say anything more. I understand,” pushing Tom away from you, you got up making your way to the door wishing to get away from him as soon as possible. You were hurt beyond your expectations. All of the little moments you shared, the kiss, tonight, it meant nothing. You were livid at yourself, you didn’t know for what more - being so stupid to believe that he could ever love you or that he would ever want you for something more than just an easy fuck. Fueled by the sudden anger you turned to Tom with disgust painted all over your face. “Was I just a girl you wanted to try for a day and dump? Was I just good fun for you? Did you have fun playing with me?”

“God, no! I didn’t mean it to happen! I just did and I’m sorry, okay? Just please sit down and let me explain,” you were extremely angry but you needed answers so you stayed in your place, waiting for Tom to continue. “I tried so hard to love you. It just never felt right like there was something missing and I-I don’t k-know what it is but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I do love you, can’t you see that?” you didn’t reply for a few seconds and Tom started to get nervous. “Please, say something.”

“Can you try again?” you asked in a small voice. You kept your arms around yourself feeling uncomfortable out of the blue, your black socks suddenly becoming amusing sight to look at.

“Can I try what again?” confusion was evident in Tom’s tone. He knew he was losing you and he needed to do everything to keep you by his side.

“Try to love me.” silence filled the room as you asked the unfortunate question hoping for the answer you already knew you couldn’t get. But it was worth trying, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can,” the words were hard for Tom to get out, a lump forming in his throat.

“Okay,” was all you muttered and at that moment Tom realised he fucked up. “I should go already, it’s late and you have to catch an early plane so…” you trailed hoping that he will get a hint.

“Please, wait!” he ran up to you as you were to exit his bedroom to wrap his arms around you in one last hug before he would leave. “I will keep calling every day, I don’t care if you don’t pick up or block my number. I will always try to get to you. You’re my oxygen, I need you,” if you were in a different situation Tom’s deep sobs would make your heart ache and feel sorry for him, rushing to lighten up his mood but now you didn’t have any of those thoughts. You just felt numb at his praying, a strange feeling settling in your stomach feeling his touch.

“Please, don’t become a stranger,” Was Tom selfish? Yes, but desperate situations require desperate attempts.

Freeing yourself from the brunette's tight embrace, you looked him in the eye for the last time and left the room wishing him good luck at his new job. He didn’t try and call for you, nor did he run after you. He stared at you silently tiptoeing downstairs avoiding contact with other people. You needed to talk about everything like adults but he knew you needed time and he was willing to give you that. He just wished he wasn’t leaving.

================================================

“Okay so… do you think we have all the stuff we need?” Harrison looked at you, having put your bag in the backseat.

“Yeah, granted that you didn’t forget to bring your big ego” you tried to joke and lift the mood but you knew it didn’t work when Harrison made a face at you. Since your not-so-nice exchange with Tom, you haven’t been in a pleasant mood. You knew that what he did wasn’t cool, but that didn’t stop you from missing him. You took off your phone, glancing at it for the twentieth time in the past thirty minutes only to see that you haven’t gotten any notifications. He said he would call. You felt stupid waiting for the guy who clearly didn’t want you and didn’t even bother to talk things out with you. You must have stared at your phone for a little too long because you heard Harrison clear his throat and saw him giving you a knowing look. You only rolled your eyes and put your phone back in your pocket.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know?” the blonde tried to take up a conversation with you. He knew something was up between you and Tom. He knew when you would stop smiling at him when he cracked jokes or when you stopped mentioning Tom in your conversations, or when he noticed Tom tensing at every mention of your name. He tried to get any pieces of information from his best friend but the brunette would always say that you were busy and that it wasn’t his business. Maybe it wasn’t Harrison’s place to be noisy but he had to admit that your careless aura was making him worry. Even when you were upset you acted more lively than now. He was aware that the matter was serious, he just didn’t know how to make it better… and he wanted to make it better for you.

During the last few weeks, your relationship progressed. Since Tom was constantly working, he didn’t have much time to call or text. And even if he did it seemed as if he wanted to spend it with other people. You couldn’t make out what went wrong in your relationship but you knew it was serious when Tom stopped making any effort. You’ve never seen him acting so indifferent towards you and it scared you. However, the lack of interaction between you two brought you closer to Harrison. You almost forgot how significant part of your life he was. Despite your sour mood, you enjoyed the time spent with him. He always made you laugh and feel needed. Your banter didn’t stop but it has changed into something softer and domestic. You found out that you didn’t mind it at all. Harrison still would do little things to drive you insane like casually tracing his fingers along your neck while putting a loose strain of your hair behind your ear or lowering his hand a bit too much than necessary while hugging you but it didn’t seem so unfamiliar and strange anymore. Talking to him almost daily, you learned to be more comfortable around him. To the point where you would hold his hand sometimes and stay over at his apartment after a long session of studying. That, however, didn’t mean that you couldn’t be playful. You knew that Harrison was as invested in your little game as you were. The rules may have changed a bit but it was still on. You had no idea what it meant for your friendship but it was too intoxicating to stop. Now that Tom was not there you could let yourself fully focus on it. You loved the feeling of uncertainty and on the other hand, you wanted to see how far you could push Harrison’s buttons. You were curious how much of it he could handle and if he would snap at some point. You couldn’t help yourself but subtly torture him with your slight touches during movie nights or walking around without a bra. You liked how worked up he always got. He would try to keep it together and act classy in front of you but eventually, you would catch him checking you out. In a way, it all felt wrong but all his attention was on you and you couldn’t help but feel good having this power over him.

When you got in the car you put on some music and looked outside the window. You didn’t want to talk to Harrison about your issues, especially not your issues with Tom so you tried to ignore his questions. Harrison, on the other hand, couldn’t find a way to make you open up to him. You two talked but he also wanted to support you when you weren’t feeling like you could handle things yourself. He remembered how Tom would complain about you being too secretive, even though you’ve known each other for years. That’s how he knew he would have to work hard for you to warm up to him. But that was the effort he wanted to put in. In the blonde’s eyes, you were the most intriguing person he has ever met. You two first came across in the cafe he worked at. You used to go there for some tea every day after classes during your first year. He’s been watching you for some time before trying to talk to you. One day his colleague dared him to get your number after he caught Harrison drooling over you during his break. So he gathered the courage and shot his shot. You two talked until the end of his break. He tried to get your number but you gave him your Instagram account instead. Soon you started to text each other and became really good friends. He would ask for your number a few more times but you always rejected him telling him to work for it. Harrison laughed to himself and shook his head. Even at the beginning of your friendship, you bossed him around.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, a bit confused by his sudden outburst.

“I just remembered how you used to reject me when we first met.” he turned to give you a small smile and started the engine.

“Oh yeah… You were desperate,” you smirked at him, knowing it would cause a good reaction and you weren’t wrong. Harrison gasped, abruptly turning to face you with fake hurt painted on his face.

“I wasn’t desperate! I just saw a pretty girl and wanted to take her out on a date but you were playing hard to get so you lost your chance,” he said it so casually you thought you didn’t hear him right.

“You evidently hadn’t worked hard enough,” you shrugged as if you didn’t care but in reality, your heart rate has sped up. You hoped that Harrison couldn’t hear your shallow breath. You never knew he wanted to take you out on a date and you didn’t know how you felt about it. The thought of him liking you more than just a friend brought butterflies in your stomach to life, making your whole body shiver. Maybe he wanted to take you on a date before. That doesn’t mean he’s still into you.

“So what should I do to get you to agree to go on a date with me?” the knot in your stomach tightened as his voice dropped down an octave. Was it possible he was still interested after all this time?

“I thought I lost my chance,” trying to keep it cool you exhaled softly hoping that the blonde didn’t notice how you squirmed lightly in your seat.

“Well… It depends,” he moved a little bit closer to you catching eye contact.

“On what?” you whispered gently trying not to raise your voice in fear that you would interrupt the moment.

Harrison’s voice matched yours as he whispered “How hard you can work after,” Noticing your disgusted look, he started to laugh deeply.

“Oh God, your jokes are so poor,” you shook your head at him, not finding his joke amusing.

“Oh come on, I know you’ve been dreaming about it,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Maybe, just maybe you have thought of it once or twice but you’d rather die than admit it to him. "Besides my jokes aren't half as bad as yours"

“Whatever, Osterfield,” you tried to turn around and fasten your seat belt not in the mood to argue but he stopped your actions again.

“Hey look... I want you to have fun today, okay?” his voice softened as he took your hand in his and started to caress your palm. “I know we joke a lot and stuff.. But I really want to give you something to remember, a memory you would always smile at when thinking of it… or when thinking of me,” he chuckled as if he thought he was never on your mind. Oh, how wrong was he. “Just forget about everything and enjoy the moment. Can you do that for me?” you thought you would melt under his gaze. He was looking at you so lovingly with a dazzling smile that couldn’t make you disagree with him. You felt like his ocean blue eyes were piercing your soul, taking your breath away. After a moment you realised that you could look into them for hours memorising the way his pupils dilated when he was looking at you.

“A-alright, I will.” you stuttered but still smiled at him and held eye contact. You didn’t know it was possible but his grin got even bigger causing you to do the same.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he smiled at you for the last time and turned around to start driving. Harrison said he planned something special for you. You didn’t know what the evening was about to bring but you knew you were screwed.

Taglist: @osterfieldshollandgirl, @tom-holland-is-spiderman-archive, @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @peachyafshawn

#tom holland story #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild x reader

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

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this is what it takes [quinn fabray]

Quinn Fabray x fem reader

Request: Quinn Fabray x reader, that takes place with Valentine’s kissing booth that Finn does (Reader is very outgoing and has a high status on the pyramid) and him and the r are competing for Quinn’s love and attention with a happy ending for Quinn and the r

*not my gif*

Out of all the shapes in the world: a circle, square, a freakin’ straight line! It was a triangle. You had to have been in a love triangle. With the quarterback and the head cheerleader.

With all the high school stereotypes, it seems as if quarterback and head cheerleader would have to be together. But you were also on the top of the social pyramid, you were the captain of the girl’s volleyball team.

Which had a better record than the football team...just saying.

You were walking down the hallway with your letterman jacket when you saw Finn at a kissing booth he had set up.

“Mr. Hotshot you’re literally gonna spread mono around the school.” you say leaning against the wooden board that created a barrier between the two of you, “All because Quinn Fabray doesn’t want to kiss you.”

“Ms. Wannabe last time I checked you couldn’t get her to kiss you either.” he says with his shit-eating smirk.

I chuckled loudly, “Woah guys! Hotshot here won one championship game in all three years of being the star quarterback and now he thinks he’s all that!” you exclaim sarcastically, “Try winning all three state championship games and a national champion AND the captain.” I say copying his own shit-eating smirk.

He looked at a loss of words before Quinn passed by. The two of you watched her as she walked by. You smiled to yourself softly. There was so many things that made you fall for the blonde.

How she carried herself. How she was so beautiful. How beautiful her voice was not only when singing, but talking. How intelligent she was.

God she’s beautiful.

But all Finn saw was beauty and social status, but she was so much more.

“Well, good luck lover boy.” you say patting his back, going to run off to catch up with Quinn.

As you ran towards her you were met with a bunch of people’s waves and high fives. You may have been on top of the social status, but you always tried to be nice to everyone. That’s how you became popular.

You touched her shoulder gently and she smiled at you softly, “Hey Fabray.” you say.

“Y/L/N, hello.” she says trying to fight back a smile.

“How are you doing today?” you ask politely as you swerve through the crowds of teenagers.

“Pretty good,” she says simply.

“That’s awesome!” You notice her shivering a little bit, “Are you cold?”

“A little. I underestimated how cool it was today.” she says rubbing her arm with her hand.

You immediately shrug off your letterman and place it over her shoulders, “Here take this! I have a hoodie in my locker that I can go grab.”

A smile appeared on her soft features, “Thank you.”

You nod smiling back at her as the two of you continued to walk, “You know Valentine’s day is coming up and I wanted to know if you would like to go on a date with me?” you ask confridently or as confidently as you can.

She stops to turn and look at you, a serious look in her eye. And you could tell that she was fighting back and forth in her head, “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Just think about it okay?” you add on so she doesn’t feel pressured.

“Okay.” Quinn nods with a small smile.

No one has ever done that before. No one has ever relieved pressure on her and let her know that it was okay.

Finn? Never.

Sam? Never.

Puck? Oh don’t even get her started on that.

You give her a small kiss on the cheek before parting ways. Happy with how you left her and feeling confident in your stance on how she feels about you.

Glee club started and you took a seat next to Mike, waiting for everyone else including Mr. Shue to come in. You watched as Quinn and Finn walked in side by side.

Even though you couldn’t hear their conversation you could tell that Finn was trying to make a move of his own. They sit in front of you and you pretend you’re not listening, when in reality you really are.

“So ice rink for Valentine’s Day?” he asks still having his shit-eating smirk on his face.

“I don’t know Finn. Y/N already asked about Valentine’s Day.” she says and you smile to yourself knowing she’s still thinking about you.

He scoffs, “Really? You’re thinking about spending Valentine’s Day with Wannabe? C’mon Quinn, you and I have something special. Come with me.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt at persuasiveness, “I need time.” she says simply as Mr. Shue comes into the room.

“Then kiss me at my kissing booth! If you feel the fireworks you drop Y/N and go out with me.” he keeps pushing, but she’s not listening.

The entire glee club you were preoccupied in your mind. Trying to figure out ways to get Quinn to be yours.

She deserves better than what all the guys’ she’s ever dated have given her. Sam was the closest thing she got to something healthy and stable. You want to give her that.

And you had just the idea.

The next glee club you went up in front of the class for your assignment about love. Naturally, you decided to dedicate this song for Quinn.

While Finn is peer-pressuring her into getting him to kiss her. You decided to sing her a song to let her know that she can take all the time she needs.

“So I’d like to dedicate this to Quinn. You know, it’s no secret to everyone that I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I could remember. But this one’s for you.” you say, throwing your guitar over your shoulder, “But before I’d like to give you these.”

You hand her a bouquet of her favorite flowers and she smiles softly. Finn who was sitting behind her just scoffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Baby, tell me when you’re ready, I’m waiting. Baby, any time you’re ready, I’m waiting. Even ten years from now, if you haven’t found somebody I promise I’ll be around. Tell me when you’re ready I’m waiting, I’m waiting.” you sing the last verse and she’s smiling widely.

The rest of the glee club claps and a bunch of whoop’s fill the room.

“Yeah you win her heart Y/L/N!” Santana yells and you laugh softly.

She smiles at you softly getting up from her seat to give you a hug, “Meet me at Finn’s kissing booth after glee club.” she whispers in your ear and you nod.

Once glee club ends, me, Finn, and Quinn headed towards his kissing booth.

“Are you ready to kiss me Quinn?” Finn asks with a smirk.

She hands him a dollar and you start to question everything.

Why did she bring him here? Why did she make you watch? Why did she give him a dollar? Is she gonna kiss him in front of you? What?

He takes the dollar and puckers up his lips and it makes you feel a little gross. Like you can’t believe Rachel Berry wants to kiss those lips.

But to your surprise she cups your cheeks and pulls your face towards her. It took you a few seconds, but you finally start to kiss back. It’s so sweet and so soft. It was everything you ever imagined it would be.

You placed your hands gently on her waist, tasting her vanilla chapstick off her lips.

She finally pulls away and the two of you turn towards Finn. He was just staring in shock at how played he got.

“Valentine’s Day?” Quinn asks.

“Valentine’s Day.” you say nodding.

#quinn fabray #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray imagines #quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray x fem

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

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COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: ERICAAA!!! FRICKIN FINALLY!! Less important note, but when writing about Y/n, El and Max, I wrote "the three friends" and autocorrect literally changed "friends" to "fruits". Yelmax confirmed 💀

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder's Office," Robin reports, unfurling what looked to be a familiar layout on the break room table. "Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints."

"Not bad," Dustin smirks from her left.

"So this is us," she points to a familiar-looking room before gesturing across the map. "Scoops, and this is where we wanna get."

"Yeah, I don't really see a way in," Steve mumbles from his seat at the table.

"There's not. If,"

She rips away a layer of the blueprint, revealing a vastly complicated map of air ducts, pipelines, and detailing that made up Starcourt.

"you're talking exclusively about doors."

Dustin looks at her with excitement growing in his eyes. "Air ducts!"

"Exactly," she smirks, making her way to the whiteboard to retrieve the magic marker. "Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room and these air ducts lead all the way" she circles the secret room in question, drawing one, interrupted line right back to, "here."

Dustin and Steve finally tear their eyes away from the map and follow Robin's mischievous eye. All the way to the air duct tucked away in the far corner of the Scoops Ahoy break room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

To their surprise, a screwdriver had been harder to find than a ladder but soon enough Steve had managed to reach the air vent and unscrew it from the wall. But as he stood here now, peering down into the vent he quickly realized they were now facing yet another obstacle.

"Flath'ligh'?" Steve asked, finally removing the screwdriver from his mouth and shaping it for the small torchlight Dustin had waiting. "Thank you,"

The flashlight turns on with a tiny click and a soft yellow light bounces down the narrow metal tunnel, enunciation the frown on Steve's face.

"Yeah, I don't know man, I don't know if you can fit in here, it's like... super tight."

"I'll fit," Dustin smirks. "Trust me. No collarbones, remember?"

"Uh, excuse me?" Robin asks.

Steve jumps down from the ladder, turning to Robin as Dustin begins the climb and gives her a nod.

"Oh, he's uh, he's got so disease," he frowns thoughtfully, racking his brain as he tries to recall the word. "It's chrydo... um... something, yeah I don't know. He's missing bones and stuff, he can bend like Gumbo."

"You mean... Gumby?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo," he snorts.

"Just shut up and push me!" Comes Dustin's muffled voice from the vents.

By now he had wormed himself halfway in, his bottom half sticking out of the wall and still propped up on the latter while they had been talking.

"Okay," Steve huffed, motioning knowingly to the kid's feet and turned away from Robin.

She watched with a tired, lazily bemused expression as Steve grabbed a less than sturdy hold of the kid's feet and attempted to push.

"Not my feet, dumbass, push my ass!"

"Uh, what?"

"TOUCH MY BUTT! I DON'T CARE!" Came Dustin's impatient scream from the walls.

With a heavy grimace, Steve hesitantly began pushing against Dustin's rear end and his muffled anger grew louder.

"I'm pushing!" Steve argued.

"PUSH HARDER!" Dustin shrieks as he attempts to inch further into the metal vents. "You're playing with my legs!"

"I'm not playing, I have terrible footing!"

"Come on!"

Steve finally makes it to the top of the latter, Dustin's legs bunched together over his shoulders and locked under his arm as their voice continued to shout over one another.

"I'm gonna just shove you, ready?"

"Just shove me?"

"One, two..."

"Shit!"

"That work?"

"One more time,"

Robin rolls her eyes, finally turning away when she hears the sudden rapid chimes of the customer bell out front and all too familiar patron.

"Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck!"

Through the partition window, Robin meets eyes with none other than Erica Sinclair who flashes her an exaggerated salute and rings the bell knowingly.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Laughter and joyful screams filled the chlorine-soaked air, the smell of the pool lingering with sunblock was strong enough it wafted all the way to the parking lot where the majority of the Party now stood at the Hawkins pool. It looked quite different than it had the day before when Y/n, Max, and El had last been, but the tension weighing down the atmosphere seemed just as heavy and ever-present.

The storm had of course long since lifted, and the sun was now beating down heavily on their backs as they took shelter behind a Rust Red AMC Hornet, all eyes across the lot on the occupant in the lifeguard chair.

Billy.

He was squished underneath the bright red beach umbrella, hidden underneath a baseball cap, thick shades, a long-sleeved sweater, and a white beach towel draped over his legs where they poked out into the sun. He was completely covered.

"I don't know," Max begins, peering through the group's binoculars. "He looks pretty normal to me,"

"Normal?" Lucas scoffs. "How many times have you seen him with a shirt on?"

Y/n smiles weakly from where she stands in between him and Will. Max lowers the binoculars, conceding a wince.

"I mean, it's a little weird,"

"More than a little," Mike nods. "He was in a tub with ice. The Mind Flayer likes it cold. Plus everything El saw—"

"But he's lounging at the pool," Max argues, doubtfully. "Which is like, the least Mind Flayer thing ever,"

"Not necessarily," Will says, pulling everyone's attention. "The Mind Flayer likes to hide. He only used me when he needed me. It's like... like you're dormant. And then, when he needs you,"

All eyes return to Billy.

"...you're activated."

Y/n gulps, shifting on her feet from where she had previously stood rooted to the spot. Ever since that dreaded Halloween night the previous year, nothing seemed to have been the same. The Mind Flayer had set his sights on Will, and in turn, her. Slowly but surely, he had infected all of their lives as he had the town of Hawkins; spreading his rot and poison, and his hate. She could still feel it sometimes; the pain of Will's nails raking into her face and leaving behind the faded scar that had already long since disappeared.

Her eyes dart back through the fence at the suspicious-looking lifeguard and her insides twisted further into a sickening knot. The thought of the Mind Flayer's possible return was enough to drain the color from her face and leave a chill in the humid, sticky summer air. Her mind was running rapid with fear but the sound of Max's voice was enough to return her to earth.

"Okay, so we just..." she shrugs, looking back over towards her brother. "wait until he gets activated."

"No," Mike says with the shake of his head. "What if he hurts someone?"

"Or kills someone?" Will counters, and the Wheeler boy nods.

"We can't take that chance. We need to find out if he's the host,"

"Well, how do we do that?" Lucas asks.

The Party falls silent. The weight of the air growing heavier and heavier as it dawns on them. And one by one, each pair of eyes trickle over to the only present Henderson sibling in the Party. Her head is hung, propped-up against the hood and when she senses the eyes on her she straightens, breathing a sigh. But Will was already shaking his head.

"What? No, no way," he says to Mike and the others, Y/n already turning to him. "No, Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea,"

"I don't like it either," Y/n fretted. "but it's our best chance. The Mind Flayer hates me, and I can push his limits. It's the fastest way."

"And if, by some random chance, Billy isn't the host?" Will countered gently. "He'd find out about you,"

Y/n didn't have a reply for that. Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be relieved or angered he had cornered her. She just stood there, frowning at the concrete sidewalk biting her lip thoughtfully. She tried to think of a way to use her abilities subtly, but all her experience with heat came from seismic blasts or concentrated bursts from her hands. If she attempted that on Billy, he would surely know it.

"There's gotta be another way," Mike cuts in. "I mean, a safe way that doesn't risk you getting hurt or discovered."

Y/n and Will - even El - shoot him a funny look and he shifts under the sudden attention, guiltily.

"What about the sauna?" Lucas says, lighting up.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it's perfect!" He grins, stepping out from around the car and motioning for Will and Mike. "Come on,"

Seemingly catching onto Lucas's idea, Mike wastes no time in following. And Will hesitantly steps away, sending Y/n and his friends an apologetic shrug.

"Where are you going?" El called after them, exasperated.

"Sorry! Boys only!" Mike throws over his shoulder.

Max scowls after them. "Seriously?!"

"Just trust us!" Lucas cries.

"We'll be back," Will shrugs again. "... I guess."

The three friends sigh, throwing less than impressed looks at the retreating boys. Privately, Y/n wondered if Mike stood any chance of harm just from her glaring at him in this moment. She hadn't shared these feelings with anyone, but since reuniting with Will something had been troubled Ling him and he wouldn't say what. She could spot it right away, the shift in demeanor but she knew it was something different from the return of the Mind Flayer somehow. And she believed it had something to do with Mike.

He was acting differently around him. He had been for some time now, as she had with Max and even El but this was different. Something had happened, and because Will was, well, Will, he was clearly trying to put aside for the sake of everyone's safety. Y/n couldn't really blame him there, but she wished he would open up to her. Tell her what was wrong.

And she wished more than anything she could fix whatever Mike had clearly broken.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"All we gotta do is wait until the pool closes and everyone leaves," Lucas begins, guiding his friends through the first layer of the men's locker rooms. "And then get him from here..."

He steps forward, quickly ripping open the secondary door. The three boys scurry inside, and Lucas's friends quickly seem to catch on to his plan and a small smile grows on Will's face.

"And get him into here," Lucas eagerly rips open the sauna door, expecting to see nothing but steam but his luck had run out.

Five sweaty adult men in towels sat packed in the sauna like sardines, scowls on their faces for the three party members who interrupted their steam. "Hey! Shut the door!"

-"Come on, kid!"

-"Shut it!"

Lucas finally broke from his stupor and slammed the door shut, shuddering.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth,"

Will nodded with a grimace, but shook it off when his eyes landed on the wall beside the door.

"The controls!"

Mike's still bulging, haunted eyes finally broke away from their zoning out and jumped to the wall where Will was pointing. His face lit up.

"We can control from the outside, it's perfect!"

"Do you think it'll get hot enough?" Will asks, feeling more and more relieved by the second. "Like, "Y/n" hot?"

His friends immediately stopped, looking to him with a deadpan expression. Will scoffed at them. "You know what I mean" he snarked, not in the mood though he was trying to ignore the hint of a blush creeping up on his skin.

"Nevermind that," Lucas says. "Look right, here, 220 degrees. That's definitely enough."

"Okay, so we just need to figure out how to get him into here," Will nods towards the sauna door.

"Precisely."

"Then we lock him in," Mike says.

Lucas nods. "-heat him up,"

And Will manages another somewhat relieved smile. "-and no matter what happens, we'll know for sure."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Erica descends from the latter, the flashlight in her hands flicking off with a loud click as she strides up to the break room table where her recruits stood waiting. The group had taken a calculated risk I confiding in the young girl, but she was smart and demanded the information and why they needed to know if she could fit into the air duct in the back room. So here they stood, waiting with anxious breath for her verdict.

"Yeah, I don't know," she says, propping herself up on the edge of the table rather unimpressed.

"You don't know if you can fit?" Dustin asks.

"Oh, I can fit. I just don't know if I want to,"

"Are you claustrophobic?" Robin tries.

Amused, Erica gives the young woman a pitiful laugh. "I don't have phobias."

"Okay, well," Steve begins with a shrug. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is I still haven't heard what's in this for Erica,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Steve slides another banana boat ice cream float across the table, joining the already plentiful dairy banquet laid out for the Sinclair girl. She merely gave it a single, disinterested glance and slid it back.

"More fudge please,"

Nobody said anything. And Steve just stared back at the table with tired, glazed-over eyes before Erica sent him a dismissive wave.

"Go on,"

He gave a sigh, and left the booth with the Banana boat in hand, and retreated to the counter. Robin took that as her cue and pulled out the marked-up blueprints she had at her side.

"Alright, you see this?" She points from the circle marked Scoops Ahoy and trail connecting over the flipped map. "This is the route you're gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight then you knock out the grate. Jump down. Open the door."

"Then you find out what's in those boxes?" She asks.

"Exactly,"

"And you say this guard is armed?"

"Yes," Dustin quickly nods. "But he won't be there,"

"And booby traps?"

"Booby traps?" Robin echoed.

"Lazers, spikes in the wall,"

Robin couldn't help but give a small laugh, but Erica was all too serious. She turned to the two with a serious look.

"You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child endangerment."

"We'll be in radio contact with you the whole time-"

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" Erica stops her. "Child. Endangerment."

Robin sighs, ignoring the knot wanting to twist in her stomach. She knew she was right, and Robin supposed she just didn't want to admit to herself what they were asking not only of themselves but the young girl.

"Erica?" Dustin began. "Hi, uh... We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm. Don't you love your country?"

"You can't spell America without Erica," she shrugs, taking a long and loud sip from her complimentary Scoops Shake.

Dustin just blinks at her response and concedes with a nod. "Uh... yeah. Oddly, that's uh... weirdly true, so... so! Don't do this for us! Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America, Erica."

Erica, who had been slurping her drink through her straw throughout his entire speech, finally finished it off and shivered, sending him a smirk. "Ooh! I just got the chills."

Dustin smiled proudly.

"Oh, yeah," she quickly corrects, her smile falling. "From this float. Not your speech."

His smile falls right off his face.

"You know what I love most about this country?" Erica began. "Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?"

Both Robin and Dustin mumble a 'yeah'.

"It means this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And this seems to me that my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So-"

Robin and Dustin share a worried look.

"-you want my help? This U.S.S. Butterscotch better be the first of many. And I'm talking free ice cream for life,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Lifting Up Auvionna "Auvi" Smith:

Muslim Aid - Save Palestine Emergency:

Help Latino Community on Lake Street:

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Text

the many faces of tom riddle, part 1

-no hate (this is merely my humble opinion) but i strongly dislike tom hughes as tom riddle, and here’s why-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

Just personally, this fancast induces a lot of cognitive dissonance for me, but this is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and articulate properly why it always throws me for a loop.

Now, does he fit the visual/aesthetic archetype?

Yes. I understand completely why people like this fancast. We know that he is studious, intellectual, and (at the time people generally fancast him for) involved in the criminal underground, and he more-or-less fits the physical description.

And, to be clear, it’s not that I don’t think Tom Hughes could play Tom Riddle, it’s that I don’t think the character he plays in the fancasts is a close enough approximation of Tom Riddle.

For me, herein lies the issue.

Tom Riddle’s character is all about the emotions bubbling under the surface. He’s a disaster waiting to happen -- he’s angry, he’s lonely, he wants revenge, he feels empty and hopeless and desperate, he’s irrational...

Not sure what movie/show the Tom Hughes clips come from, but the character he plays isn’t that at all. the character he plays is very self-possessed, poised, self-aware. Reflective. Remorseful (there are clips of him crying when/after he shoots someone). Introspective.

That, to me, is not Tom Riddle at all.

Yes, he does deal with moral conflict, but it’s never at the forefront of his mind. It’s not something he’s constantly grappling with. He doesn’t really... brood in this Hamlet-esque way.

Tom doesn’t think. Sure, he plans, he ruminates, he rationalizes a posteriori. But he’s very unaware of himself (in fact, it’s one of his fatal flaws). It’s not that he doesn’t have emotions; just that his internal state is a mystery most of the time.

He doesn’t connect with his own emotions; he is completely estranged from them. Tom cannot tell you whether he is happy or sad (not just because of his pride). He keeps his emotions and moral compass (which are highly uncomfortable things), in a locked little box, swallows the key, and disregards them. And yet, this character connects so deeply with his emotions that even the audience can see exactly what he’s going through.

(There’s an openness -- an ease of vulnerability -- that Tom Riddle doesn’t have)

The thing about Tom, is that he hates himself just as much as he hates everyone around him. Creating Horcruxes to save himself from death is not an act of self-love, or even narcissism to the extreme; instead, forcibly ripping your own soul seven times is the most literally and metaphorically self-destructive thing a person could possibly do.

"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction —"

If we go all the way back to Book 1, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, you’ll remember that the eponymous material (first described in the Epic of Gilgamesh) is capable of producing the Elixir of Life, a magical substance that makes its drinker immortal, as long as you have a steady supply. Not only that, but according to the beliefs of historical alchemists (such as Nicholas Flamel), it was capable of curing any disease. In the alchemical tradition, it symbolized perfection, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss.

If all Tom Riddle was concerned about was prolonging his life, this is the obvious (and better) option.

Here’s the alchemical symbol of the Philosopher’s Stone. Looks kind of like the Deathly Hallows symbol, right? It represents the interplay of the (at the time, believed) four elements of matter -- a sort of periodic table, if you will.

The mature Philosopher’s Stone was believed to be a red stone (for making gold), and the immature one a white stone (for making silver). Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, anyone??

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry. "Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?"

And Dumbledore responds:

"But there are several reasons why, I think, a Sorcerer's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort.”

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain the immortality. Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable...”

And while, yes, he did try to steal it rather than make it, I am sure that in the time it took Tom to make all of his Horcruxes, he could have learned enough alchemy to produce it for himself (or wheedled the information out of Nicholas Flamel). While Dumbledore hypothesizes that it’s because Tom hates feeling dependent, this must be irony, because he spends the first book as a literal parasite, the next three as a virtually helpless creature, and the remainder still reliant on his Horcruxes.

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

But, like me, Dumbledore is making guesses at Tom Riddle’s internal state, and in this case, I think, he’s made an oversight. Horcruxes make him equally as dependent as the Philosopher’s Stone would have. It’s been established in canon that you cannot make yourself immortal without help; either you rely on the continued existence of your Horcruxes or your supply of the Elixir.

And while the Elixir represents the positive aspects of eternal life, like renewal, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of the universe (see above the ouroboros of Cleopatra the Alchemist, one of the four women who knew how to make the philosopher's stone), a Horcrux is antithetical to life. It represents disorder, and once the creator of Horcruxes dies, they are unable to move on from Limbo -- shut out of the cycle. Harry describes Tom’s mangled soul as looking like a flayed and mutilated baby -- permanently immature and stagnant.

This theme of destruction is furthered by the Golden Trio’s discussion on how to reverse the process:

Ron: "Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?"

Hermione: "Yes, but it would be excruciatingly painful."

Harry: "Why? How do you do it?"

Hermione: "Remorse. You've got to really feel what you've done. There’s a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

With this in mind, we can surmise that Tom is either (a) impatient, which we know he is not (b) there was some deeper reason for favouring Horcruxes -- so, yes, I believe that either metaphorically or literally, this was self-harming behaviour.

He takes on the name of Lord Voldemort because he hates himself, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He hates the Muggle part of himself so much that he’s willing to tear apart his entire being.

"Voldemort, is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

If that isn’t renouncement of himself, I don’t know what is. He was clearly not born Voldemort.

While of course, this does NOT excuse ANY of his actions, I find it vastly implausible that the likes of Malfoy, Mulciber, Carrow, etc... would have been welcoming in any way, shape or form to an assumed ‘Mudblood’ in scruffy secondhand robes from a London orphanage, and as such, indoctrinated him into his fanatic belief in blood-purity via antagonizing him.

(Imagine Hermione, but poor and without parents, in the 1930s/40s. She would not have been treated well in Slytherin, either.)

Children are more vicious than you think. And while Tom probably gave as good as he got at Wool’s Orphanage (and was possibly an active aggressor himself), Hogwarts wouldn’t have been a level playing-field. (I’ll talk a bit about this and the significance of the Gaunt Ring in Part 2).

In other terms, I think Tom was bullied for having dubious origins. That’s often the swiftest way to radicalize someone, and would have left Tom with a crippling sense of self-hatred that I don’t think he would have even picked up from the orphanage.

(And it’s possibly this early experience with relational aggression that results in his constant need to be on the offensive/defensive, distrust of others, and fear of vulnerability. To me, this is an archetypal response of someone who was a past victim of bullying.)

Why else would an extremely powerful half-blood subscribe so strongly to those beliefs? (Rather than discriminating via amount of raw power or something -- because what Tom is immensely proud of when Dumbledore meets him is his ability, not his parentage). But I digress.

Now, Tom Riddle is never, ever quietly menacing like this. The mask is either completely on or completely off. We never see this character angry. Tom Riddle, when the mask slips off, is fury incarnate. Anger is the one emotion he doesn’t find weak; the one emotion he’s completely and utterly honest with.

Besides, that brings me to my next point. Tom’s not quite so austere. In fact, he’s quite witty, and often quite pleased with himself.

Just look at the difference in their body language. Tom has much more fluidity (he’s circling Harry, the head-tilt, the eyebrows move and he smiles a bit) than the other character, who has so much tension. Yes, they’re both menacing, but in completely different ways. Tom is comfortable with his actions, no matter how shitty they are. This other guy doesn’t like doing what he’s doing, but he’s going to do it, anyway.

Contrasted with the above, Tom’s unawareness of himself is such that we end up with a character who has a bizarre mix of extreme self-hatred and high self-esteem -- he always believes he is in the right -- in this case, doing Salazar Slytherin’s noble work -- while going to extreme, self-destructive lengths, such as tearing himself in half at the mere age of sixteen.

So, sorry... I kind of get the appeal, but... I don’t like the fancast.

(More unpopular opinions coming at 5:30 PM EDT tomorrow!)

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #tom hughes #unpopular opinion #i am so getting cancelled #look i spent actual time trying to get those two gifs on the same line but it just wasn't happening #they line up if you make your window narrower #tw: mention of self-harm

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imhaitusncarnate · 3 years

Text

I have very mixed feelings on that aot ending

Ok so the politics of Attack on Titan have been discussed by a lot of people, some of whom have a very surface- level understanding of the story. I would like to start by giving my disclaimer that Attack on Tiatan ABSOLUTELY isn’t fascist, its anti racism, anti bigotry and anti discrimination themes are extremely apparent in it’s examination of the Eldians inside Marley, and fascist views held by characters such as Gabi are explicitly condemned in the text and made clear to be misguided and false.

I would now like to draw everyone’s attention to the openings of seasons 1 and 2.

Images like these combined with lyrics like these:

You pigs who sneer at our will to step over corpses and march onwards Enjoy the peace of livestock false prosperity "freedom" of the dying wolves that hunger

We dedicate and sacrifice our hearts

And also the use of german lyrics:

Sie sind das Essen und Wir sind die Jaeger! (they are the food and we are the hunters)

O, mein Freund! Jetzt hier ist ein Sieg. Dies ist der erste Glorie. O, mein Freund! Feiern wir diesen Sieg, für den nächsten Kampf!

(O, my friend! Now, here is a victory. This is the first glory. O, my friend! Let us celebrate this victory for the next battle!)

This is the stuff that lead me to believe that this is a deliberate use of fascist imagery. If the show just wanted to go for a militaristic vibe for the aesthetic of it, references this explicit to fascist propaganda and the use of German lyrics was not necessary. Also, lines like this:

And plenty of evidence that things were not what they seemed it the world of aot and that the overly simplistic view of good vs evil (humans vs the titans) was incorrect led me to believe that Attack on Titan was a deliberate deconstruction. That it was putting the audience into the mindset of the fascists to pull the rug from under their feet later. And I was right. Sort of.

As the story progresses, the world becomes a more and more complex political landscape and we are led to believe that this black and white mentality is wrong. We are also informed that the people who can transform into titans, the Eldians, are an opressed minority, explicitly paralleled to the Jews during nazi Germany, from their living in internment camps, to them being called devils, to their armbands, to a large number of them (our heroes) being confined in an island with walls circling them, which is revealed by Isayama to be Madagascar. The island that the nazis originally meant to confine the Jewish population in before arriving at the conclusion that that would be too costly, and that genocide was preferable.

This is the first of the story’s mixed metaphors. While the show’s heart is in the right place, being sympathetic to the Eldians and showing their plight under marleyan opression and persecution, there is one problem. The reason for the opression of the Eldians is because the world is afraid of their power, as they are a race with the ability to transform into titans. There is, therefore, a tangible, justification for their internment. The Jews were not in any conceivable way a danger to anyone, they were simply scapegoated for the complex socioeconomic problems of Germany in the time period. Also, if we take a look at those openings again, we observe that the Eldians (our main characters) who wish to free themselves from their shackles are framed as fascists. So... what is that saying?

The idea, as I see it, is that the story is condemning fanaticism in general, as a biproduct of a militaristic black and white worldview. The monstrous titans that our (framed as fascist) heroes fight against are revealed to be human, just like them.

The same is the case for the Eldian “devils” that the Marleyans fight against. Gabi, the character who is most fanatically against Eldians (despite being an Eldian herself) is comfronted with the humanity of the people she hates once she gets to know them.

Again, Isayama’s heart is on the right place here, trying to condemn bigotry, however the explicit referencing of history is the imagery is kind of misplaced, for the reasons I previously mentioned. Now let’s have a look at Eren Yeager.

Eren starts the story as a kind of messed up kid. He kills the human traffickers who kidnapped Mikasa while screaming:

I mean, in this case he is certainly justified, but his rage and anger are definitely not normal for a child his age.

This is Eren. He can’t stand injustice when he sees it. And injustice is what happens to him when the titans attack. His already fiery attitude and mindset is what leads him to this declaration of revenge:

That side of Eren is visible throughout the story and it’s foreshadowing for what he will later become

Eren, however, is a natural product of his environment. Ravaged by socioconomic inequality, with the rich living in the centre of the walls and the poor living in the outskirts, constantly under the threat of the titans and unable to obtain any kind of freedom, Eren’s philosophy of the need to be strong to overcome one’s enemies makes sense. The mantra “the strong prey on the weak”, that he ends up teaching Mikasa (another allusion to fascist ideology) is a biproduct of the world he lives in. He does not know of the political intricasies outside the walls. All he knows is he must kill the titans.

Eren’s titan is described as the “manifestation of humanity’s rage. It is huge and monstrous, and could be seen as a metaphor for vengeful hatred in general. Keep that in mind, it’s relevant for the ending.

This manufactured and false black and white worldview shapes him as a character, and it’s what eventually, after the arrival at the much desired ocean, leads him to this:

“Will we finally be free?”

In the continuation of the story, Eren falls toward the dark side more and more, to the point of committing atrocities and war crimes that are explicitly framed as being similar to what he suffered as a child (see his actions in Liberio). He even acknowledges that, telling Reiner, the person who committed said war crimes against him, that he essentially has no hard feelings and understands that the two of them are similar, doing what “needs to be done”. The character of Gabi, who, after what happens in Liberio, becomes obsessed with revenge against the Eldian “devils” is meant to be a foil for Eren, and his obsession with killing the titans after what happened to him.

Extremely interesting is the way in which certain ideas and images are flipped in the later seasons. Namely, in season 4, we see a character who idolizes Mikasa and supports Eren’s plans in a scene where she spouts the same mantra of “the strong prey on the weak” and says that Mikasa saving her is what showed her that only with strength she can defeat her enemies. Mikasa tells her to shut up, and she proceeds to do the salute, that has been so glamorized by the show’s openings thus far. Now, it is done by a person from a military faction with a fanatic worldview. The direction doesn’t glamorize it at all. It is a nuanced, almost masterful deconstruction.

Levi, who has always looked for reasons for why his comrades had t die, justifying their heroism and convincing himself that their deaths were not pointless, ends up here:

At this point, I was in love with Attack on Titan. From here, it only figures that Eren ends up attempting a genocide of the people outside the walls. He has essentally become what he hated the most, and he’s a natural result of the world that created him. Despite his noble intentions, he has turned into a monster. Mikasa, the prerson who loved him the most, completes her character arc by killing him, thus rejecting her blind devotion to him and being free, while at the same time continuing to love the person he once was. It’s a sad and tragic ending, painting Eren as a tragic character and making a pretty strong political point, despite having a few mixed metaphors.

And then, chapter 139 came out...

And Eren apparently pulled a Lelouch. This is a “I purposfully turned myself into a monster to save the world and make my friends into heroes for killing me” kind of thing. It is important to state that the manga makes it clear that Eren would have trampled the world even if they didn’t stop him, because of his urge to be free. However, that urge, that fighting spirit, end up being a good thing. The death of our heroes in battle apparently wasn’t pointless after all. They say goodbye with a salute

The Yeagerists, who were previously framed as fanatics, end up in charge of the government

It is important to state that the real event, the catalyst of the ending, is that killing Eren, who has turned himself literally into the manifestation of humanity’s rage (which has now, through the intricacies of the story, taken the political meaning of hatred and intergenerational trauma), eliminates the power of the titans. The titans are no more. This, in of itself, is good, and in keeping with the spirit of the political commentary thus far. However, the war, is still not over, and Eren’s mantra ends up being correct

So the only way for the war to end is one of the races to be wiped out?

Also, despite Eren’s genocide being wrong, it is, in the end, justified, as a necessary evil by the story. An Ozymandias kind of moment in which the ends justify the means, but Eren himself has to die, because his crime was too great for him not to suffer punishment. Essentially, this chapter undoes all of the insightful commentary the story had made so far, by proving the ideology of its main character right. Story- wise this isn’t a bad ending, but if we take into account the political references the series has made, and its desire to explicitly tie itself with such imagery makes the ending leave a really bad taste in my mouth. What it essentally says, is that, yes, bigotry and racism are bad, yes, blind hatred is bad, but the general idea of might makes right and the impossibility of reconciliation are true. Armin, who has, throughuout the story, been Eren’s opposite, in terms of looking for peaceful solutions to conflict is rendered meaningless in the end, because him alongside with the other characters were all playing into Eren’s plans. The hearts of our main characters as recruits were in the right place, their fighting spirit admirable, and the overall worldview we are presented with in the beginning of the story remains more or less unchallenged.

So where does that leave this imagery?

The conclusion is that one must think very carefully before including allegory in their work. I am not accusing Isayama for fascism, and I appreciate the efforts at deconstructing it throughout the story. However, in the end he did an oops I accidentally justified the mentality I was trying to condemn. I still like Attack on Titan, I believe it has artistic value and is overall a pretty good anime, I even agree with its politics to an extent. However, it is very important to critically examine the things we like, and see where they may have gone south. And this ending is that for me.

#attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #snk spoilers #snk meta #aot meta #politics #anime

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theleafsheep · 3 years

Text

You’ll Grow Into Them

Recently Silverr’s horns had started to bother him as they had begun to obstruct most of his vision. He was used to having the horns as he was born with them but they had grown a huge amount in the past few weeks. The large horns combined with his scruffy hair had combined to make Silverr one of the most accident-prone people in HBG. He had been perfectly fine before he just hadn’t had enough time to get adjusted to the new size of his horns.

HBG had just reached a new world in hopes of settling there as a permanent home so they all had a place to be when they weren’t off exploring new worlds and defeating the enderdragon. The new horns and the new environment did not help Silverr’s new situation. He had to almost solely rely on all his sense besides sight.

He knew his adjustment to the new world would be easier if he just told the other members about his newly founded vision problem but he couldn’t. The irrational part of his brain kept telling him that they’d think he was weak, that he needed to be watched over and worst of all they would pity him and that’s exactly what he didn’t want. He was his own independent person and no one could take that from him.

And then he ran into a tree because of course he did. Everyone else was getting wood perfectly fine and here he was running into a tree.

“Nice going Silverr!” Mustard jokingly said towards him.

“Oh fuck off,” he responded.

He regathered himself and started punching the tree he had just run into as to make a boat and sail to the other island where most of the members were going to be settling. Once he got enough wood he made said boat and sailed off in the direction he believed the island to be. In all honesty, he was guessing at where the island was but he thankfully got it right. Once he got out of the boat he heard someone yell at him.

“Hey Silverr,” he heard Feinberg call out towards him. “It’s getting dark out, you might want to get in the cave with the rest of us.”

“Oh okay, sure,” everyone knew Silverr wasn’t one for small talk but even then he felt bad when he only responded in short sentences.

He should have noticed the changing in the light but he wasn’t paying close enough attention. He should have figured out where Feinberg was based on where his voice was coming from. He should have been able to find where the cave Fein mentioned was. He should have, he should have, he should have.

Instead, he fumbled around trying to find the cave where some of the HBG members were laughing at his fumbling and failed attempt trying to find the cave.

Suddenly he felt someone grab his hand and drag him off, “It’s over here silly,” oh it was Marcus.

Marcus dragged him over to an opening he figured from his limited sight was the cave along with the sudden dampness surrounding him.

“We don’t have enough beds so we just have to wait out the night,” Reignex proclaimed.

“For speedrunners, you’d think we could get beds in time for a night cycle but apparently not,” Feinberg commented.

“We want this world to last, for it to be our permanent home and that can’t happen if we treat it like a speedrun world,” Silverr responded.

Silverr felt around until he found a rock to sit on and took it as his place in the cave. Almost everyone was gathered in a vague circle shape happily chatting to each other and joking around. Eventually, the voices became like white noise and Silverr fell asleep.

Waking up because your head started to fall from the wall it rested on was a very disorienting way to wake up Silverr decided. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and could tell that everyone in the cave the previous night had already left.

“I swear this slow pace world will be the death of me,” he muttered to himself while leaving to find a place to settle down. “If not for these stupid horns I could be off killing the enderdragon but no biology hates me. I will just have to get used to them before I can go off on my own.”

He spent the rest of the night mining into the cliffside to create himself a home, occasionally having conversations with the members who were passing by. He could feel their eyes linger on him and he knew why. He knew he was acting strange and he knew they were pitying him. He could take anything but not their pity.

If he spent all his time alone then there was no way they could pity him or think of him as weak, at least that’s what his brain told him. So he isolated himself from others, interacting as little as possible, but doing the same thing over and over again didn’t help him adjust to his horns. And of course, him isolating himself just made the members even more confused and concerned about him.

Many days went by before Illumina’s shadow appeared outside Silverr’s new home. His silhouette loomed over the cliffside hole as it included his horns and dragon wings

“You do know everyone is concerned about you right? You literally stopped responding to everyone who tried messaging you, we barely knew that you were still in this world,” Illumina confronted him.

Silverr couldn’t meet Illumina’s eyes, instead looking at the floor. Even if he wanted to explain, he couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he sputtered out random sounds that could not make up a coherent sentence.

Illumina looked him up and down then something seemed to click in his eyes. Illumina grabbed Silverr and brought him further into his house.

“What happened to your horns?” Illumina asked with concern laced in his voice.

Silverr looked at him puzzled then dragged his hand across his horns where he felt multiple cracks and one horn had the tip broken off.

“Huh, I guess I didn’t notice,” Silverr responded. He really hadn’t noticed but it made sense because he kept running into the stone walls of his home while digging it out and even now as he hadn’t gotten used to the layout.

Silverr could feel Illumina’s eyes back on him and linger but he kept looking down. Even though he didn’t have much of his vision, he just couldn’t make eye contact.

“How do you even see with your horns and your fringe?” it was a rhetorical question.

“I don’t, at least not very well,” Silverr stated matter of factly.

Illumina let out a deep sighed and ran his hands through his hair, “sh- shouldn’t I bandage you up or something?”

“I thought someone with horns would understand that bandages are useless.”

“W-well you have ram horns and I have dragon horns they aren’t exactly the same thing so I thought maybe—,” Illumina rambled. “You do know the other members would be willing to help you with the vision thing, right?”

Silverr mumbled a response, “I just don’t want them to think I’m weak.”

“Trust me they won’t think that, they’re just very concerned because you cut contact with everyone for like too many days,” Illumina tried to comfort him.

“I just need to get used to them and I’ll be fine. I’m always fine alone,” clear distress could be heard in Silverr’s voice.

“You’ll grow into your horns but maybe having people to help you while you get used to them will help. Come on, let’s go meet up with the others,” Illumina left, leaving Silverr to begrudgingly follow him.

Maybe he’ll be fine in time.

#silverruns #silverr #mcsr #no beta we die like hbg smp #my writing hasn't evolved since i was 12 #leafsheep.write

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cyndalyssa · 3 years

Text

Oh, Look, Another Darkwing Drabble

This one’s a snippet of a bigger story in my head, based on the idea of Bushroot going massive mindless monstrosity.

I dunno if I’ll ever write the rest of the story down, my life tends to get a little busy and I already have a lot of ideas I want to make in my free time, but I at least wanted to exercise the writing muscles.

All was quiet at the Museum of Failed Experiments. The dark of night gave the appearance of rest to each polished display, even those that were still lit. Though dignified it looked, the place was home to quite a bit of failure, hence the name. Each wing, covering branches of science and engineering, was a hall of shame, showing off embarrassments, tragedies, and unfinished projects to the citizens of St. Canard.

It was at this scene that the night guards present had unfortunate encounters. A flower that sprayed sleeping gas, a stun gun, a joy buzzer that ended in instant knockout, being washed into a closet by water from the drinking fountain, and just getting hit by a mallet were their fates, and they were swiftly locked up by the intruders.

The Fearsome Five then had the place to themselves.

As they met up in the lobby, Megavolt couldn’t help but look up, in awe of the enormity of it. “Wowza, they really went all out on this place!” He glanced back at the corridor from whence he came and smiled. “They’ve got gizmos and gadgets aplenty!”

Quackerjack bounced to his side. “And whozits and whatzits galore!”

“They got thingamabobs?”

“Psht, at least twenty!”

Megavolt laughed. “I can’t believe they gave up on some of these! I oughta grab ‘em and show everyone how it’s done!”

Quackerjack grinned. “Oh, I feel you, Sparky! In fact, I’m getting quite a bit of inspiration myself from doodads like the fruit-flavored fireworks! Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo, can you just imagine a literal explosion of fruity goodness?”

Megavolt narrowed his eyes, his plug hat sparking and an irritated growl in his voice. “How many times have I told you not to call me Sparky?”

“Not like you can remember.”

Cutting between them, the Liquidator piped in, “Fruit-flavored fireworks? The phenomenon of the century, guaranteed to sweeten up your 4th of July celebrations! Comes in apple, cherry, grape, and blue raspberry.”

Bushroot scratched his head. “I’m just wondering how the inventor expected that to work. What kind of chemistry was involved?”

Negaduck rolled his eyes. “Blegh, of course you dweebs get hopped up on exploding fruit snacks. Now remember, children, we’re not here for the fireworks, we’re here for the portal gun that’s supposed to be displayed here… and I expect you to be looking for it!”

The other four silently stared at him for a moment, glanced at each other, and then back to him. Then, Megavolt asked, “Well, what does it look like?”

“It’s red and vaguely gun-shaped, with a spinny thing at the end,” Negaduck answered in baby-talk. Then he snapped, “I’m sure you could figure it out from the display name! Now, get to searching!”

Negaduck stormed upstairs. Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed to the technology wing--partially running from Negaduck, partially rushing to see what kind of doodads they could see. Perhaps even take some and modify them for later mischief.

Liquidator was about to flow down another hall when he noticed Bushroot at the directory. The plant duck glanced the direction of the hall that Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed down, and then up the stairs that Negaduck had descended. Then, almost sneakily, he went in the opposite direction and toward the natural science and chemistry wing.

Curious, Liquidator decided to follow him, and had caught up in a second. “One in ten customers would say that this portal gun is not in this wing, Bushroot.”

Bushroot flinched at the sudden voice, but quickly regained his composure. “Well, uh… when studying the map earlier, I recall that the storage room was somewhere in this direction. It could be in there.”

Liquidator raised a watery eyebrow. “You want an excuse to look around, huh?”

Bushroot glanced away. “Well… it couldn’t hurt. I mean, I’m curious and I don’t know when I’ll be able to have another opportunity for a museum visit.” He looked back to see Liquidator still staring like a disappointed parent. “But I do think storage is in this wing, honest!”

“Hm. Well, if it’s in this direction, why not treat yourself to this once-in-a-lifetime super private tour? Just don’t get too distracted, and it’ll be between you and me.”

“O-oh, that’s no problem. I’m a pretty fast reader.”

The two mutants wandered around the natural science and chemistry wing, looking for a door or hall or basement staircase that led to that storage room. However, Liquidator was doing most of the looking, sweeping around the rooms quickly, while Bushroot, though still looking at the walls in hopes of spotting the passage they were looking for, was circling displays in fascination. There were models and pictures of odd creatures or monstrosities, as well as deformed skeletons of unfortunate souls. He read about attempts to clone prehistoric plants and even animals, a tale of a man who accidentally fused himself with a fly, and the horror of radioactive moss. On occasion, he’d stumble on a display involving water, and invite Likki to take a look.

Every so often, Liquidator would look to see what Bushroot was doing. There were moments that Bushroot seemed to be genuinely looking for that storage room--such as now, when walking along the wall of glass cases full of more experiments, he paused at a gap in the wall, looking at a door, but saw that it was an emergency exit and then moved on. Otherwise, the plant duck was more invested in the science that surrounded him, which Likki had a little trouble relating to. While some of the stuff involving water was interesting, he otherwise didn’t care for the biological stuff that Bushroot was so entranced by.

Meanwhile, so far, the only doors they had found were emergency exits, but nothing leading to any storage or basement at some point. Liquidator was almost of the mind that Bushroot duped him, but Bushy wasn’t like that.

At some point, when Liquidator finally found a hallway that looked promising, Bushroot suddenly cried, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Alarmed, Likki splashed his way to where Bushroot stood, at a display in the corner about biological chemical disasters. The plant duck was looking quite offended, glaring at one particular shelf where a green substance, surrounded by plant models and photos of a strange machine, sat. Likki took a closer look at the label, which read:

Chloroplast Infusion Solution, Dr. Reginald Bushroot, Ph.D

Skimming over the description of the substance, what it was supposed to do, and how it backfired, Likki just glanced over to Bushroot, who held his head in his leafy hands.

“How humiliating! I can’t believe I made it into the Hall of Shame!”

Likki patted him on the back. “Aw, Bushy, do not fret! After all, you’ve gotten an upgrade! Who needs a normal sad sap scientist when you can have a super plant that can grow a forest with just a thought?”

A sharp glare arose from Bushroot’s palms. “I just wanted to alleviate world hunger… and, uh, maybe get a little respect…”

“Respect, huh?” Likki shook his head. “I’m sure with your power, you can easily command it.”

“There is a difference between respect and fear.”

“Hm. Well, as Bud Flud, I was just a salesman trying to keep my business afloat; but as the Liquidator, I became master of all liquids, one with the water, and a force to be reckoned with!” A sphere of water detached from Likki’s hand and revolved around it. “I know my power, and I revel in it.”

He grabbed the sphere, reabsorbing it. “As for you… well, you’ve got potential, but you lack nerve. Someday, I’d like to see you cut loose, show them what Bushroot is really capable of.”

Bushroot glanced at him, pondering on whether he should remind Liquidator of Negaduck and their shared fear of him, but decided against it. He crossed his arms. “Fine, whatever you say.”

He went back to glaring at the display of his fateful project. “If those two ignoramuses had just minded their own business and not made me look bad in front of the dean, then I would’ve still had the funding to test on the lab rats instead of myself. You know, catch the kinks and find a way to iron them out. But… here I am now.”

“I’d say that career change was for the better.”

“But I liked being a scientist… sure, I hated my coworkers--except one--but I love science.”

Likki shrugged. “Life sucks and we just gotta roll with the punches.” He turned around and marched toward that one hallway. “Now, come on, there’s a storage room calling our names, and who knows when the purple menace will pop in.”

Bushroot sighed, taking one last look at his experiment’s exhibit. “All right, I’ll stop wasting ti--”

He stopped when he caught a name on the display right next to his. Eyes boggling, he grabbed the bottle from that shelf and shouted, “Goodness grapevines! He has one here too?”

Likki stopped and turned around. “Inquiring minds must know… who’s he?”

Bushroot gestured to the name on the display, which, when Likki took a closer look, read ‘Dr. Arthur Bones’. “He was my rival back in college, and he was one of the meanest, most condescending jerks that I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t know what I ever did to him, but sometimes it felt like it was his life’s mission just to convince me that everything I do is stupid and dangerous. Hmph, at least my buddy Andrew had my back.”

Liquidator rubbed his chin. “You just have a way of attracting bullies, don’t you? At the very least, you can take some joy that Dr. Bones is also in the Hall of Shame!”

“Yeah, I guess I could.” Bushroot looked at the label on the bottle, brow furrowed in confusion. “Although I do wonder what he was doing making fertilizer. Last I remember, he was into genetics--especially studies on mutations and defects.”

“For more information, check the description--it’s right there.”

Bushroot turned to the description and read aloud, “‘In 1990, a miracle growth formula invented by Dr. Bones took several western states by storm. With a natural sweet scent and potent power, it improved the lives of gardeners everywhere by making plants healthier, stronger, and sturdier against disease and pests, and helping them to grow faster than normal’.” He scratched his chin and nodded. “Well, now I’m tempted to bring it home with me and see what my plants think.”

Liquidator chuckled. “Oh, I bet they’d love it! The amazing miracle fertilizer, guaranteed to create a happy and hearty garden!”

“Ee-hee, it does sound great.” Bushroot’s smile fell into a frown as he turned back to the description. “But this is a Museum of Failed Experiments, so there is a catch here... ‘While at first it seemed to be a blessing, it soon proved to be dangerous for people, as proven with the Mallard High School Football Team during the fall of 1990. Reports of--’”

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

The sudden voice from nowhere made them jump. Bushroot even ended up tossing the bottle of fertilizer into the air. He didn’t even hear the second part of the introduction, too distracted by gravity smashing the bottle onto his head. The glass shattered, and fertilizer splashed everywhere on him and the floor, leaving him a dripping mess. His roots started lapping up the puddle that remained.

“I am… Darkwing Duck!”

#darkwing duck #fearsome five #bushroot #liquidator #megavolt #quackerjack #negaduck #drabble #lyssa writes #wishing i had more time and motivation to write

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meimi-haneoka · 3 years

Note

While we see a comparison with SyaoSaku and Akiho/Kaito (They might need a ship name soon), there is also this interesting contrast. Even though SyaoSaku still needs to work on communication, they do have that great level of trust when they do interact. With Akiho/Kaito, we see them having casual conversation with little issue. But when things get serious or concerning, there is some level of dismissiveness and gaslighting from Kaito, much to Momo and all of our detriments.

Thank you very much for posing this question anon, as I think I haven’t said everything I wanted to say in my analysis post, and I will use this space to ramble a little bit more about “that side” of the parallelism in this last chapter...

(long rambling under the cut)

First thing first, they do already have a ship name! :D The japanese fandom has named them “YunaAki”. Why they chose “Yuna” over “Kaito” is not clear, it seems it sounded better. After all, we don’t know which is the given name and which is the last name. As it’s a fake name, it probably doesn’t matter.

Yes, I totally agree with you. I think, probably the whole meaning of the chapter was to show how different can be the outcome for two similar situations, if you keep your heart shut and don’t trust the person you’re supposed to care for.

As you said, Syaoran and Sakura still have some minor communication issues going on, but they’re working on them and they are solving the situation, this chapter was another proof of that. It’s incredible to think that most of the resistance actually comes from Sakura, but...

Syaoran has accepted and decided to be frank with Sakura, to the point of being even too blunt, sometimes. Sakura, instead, keeps sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, but Syaoran is slowly pulling her out of that behavioral pattern.

What do we have on the other side, the YunaAki side?

We have, first of all, two battered souls who are trying to cope with their past, each in their own way.

One is doing her best to leave her past behind, with a positive attitude, and doesn’t let the occasional moments of discomfort to halt her progress. She might trip and fall because certain scars are simply too deep to heal in such a short time, but we see Akiho being stronger and stronger, everyday.

One...is basically just doing what Sakura does, sweeps everything under the carpet, the problem is that he doesn’t do that only with the negative emotions, he does that with everything. Even the emotions that are supposed to give him joy and happiness. He’s completely, impossibly shut in himself, and doesn’t let anyone in, not even the creature who is supposed to be his ally in his “quest”.

It’s very important to keep in consideration Akiho’s and Kaito’s pasts, when analyzing their behavior, because their pasts still have great influence on their mindsets. Akiho struggles to let go the “I’m good for nothing” mentality that her clan has engraved so deeply into her heart, while Kaito thinks he’s still that brooding, dull, aloof kid who used to walk down the hallways of the Association all alone, watched from a distance by all the other magicians.

In this chapter, those behavioral patterns came out completely in the sunlight.

But while Akiho took her own patterns and decided “I don’t want to be this way, I’ve already changed so much because of you and I want to help you in return”, activating a sort of “positive response”, Kaito saw her getting closer and insisted in barricading himself behind that thin wall that he’s built around his heart.

It’s not by chance that I wanted to make the parallel with the SyaoSaku situation more obvious with the use of the “knocking on the door” metaphor, since that’s really what I felt when I’ve read the chapter.

We have a boy and a girl in love with someone and seeing that loved one in pain. Both kids try to be of help because they can’t stand to see them bearing all the burden alone.

And that’s when trust comes into the picture.

I am saying trust, and not love, because I do think Kaito loves Akiho (and here I have to specify again that we don’t know what kind of love is, but at the very least he has affection for her).

While Sakura trusts Syaoran to the point of not losing faith in him even when he revealed to be the one who took the Sakura Cards, or even despite all the dreams with MCF Syaoran she’s having, Kaito doesn’t trust Akiho. He cannot trust her. He’s too afraid of what would entail to let Akiho closer than the safe distance they have right now.

There are many reasons for this.

One, the most obvious: he’s about to die. He is going to die and that, in his mind, is a certainty, because he needs to save her before it’s too late, and even if the time rewindings won’t kill him, probably the last taboo magic will.

There’s absolutely no point, in his head, to get closer to her.

Two, actually accepting her offer for help would mean that at some point he would have to explain why he’s so worn out, and all that’s behind it. With that, he would inflict on her a pain even greater than the one he’s living on his skin. He has carefully avoided to let her know *any* thing about the terrible spell that is at work on her, in order to give her a life as normal as possible, and he wouldn’t nullify that for anything in the world.

Three, he’s terribly afraid of human connections. To the point of turning himself blind to the beating and stirring of his heart. He’s still convinced that he doesn’t have a heart, just like when he was in the Association.

But Momo was clear: no matter how strong you are, or what kind of life you live, no one can ever stay the same, if they’re given the trigger to change. And Kaito has already had that, when he decided on that fateful day, “I’ll go”.

He just has to stop refusing to admit it.

It was painful to see him going in circles, in hope to avoid where Momo was getting at in chapter 51, and the saddest thing of it all is that it seems this is an automatic behavior, he seemed genuinely confused when Momo said “You missed something”. “Missed”, past tense.

Akiho is terribly scary to him, when she runs on her assertiveness and starts making questions. This was obviously not the first time and he knows that she’s damn observant when she wants. Everytime Kaito changed expression, everytime something was wrong with him, she always caught on.

Dammit, she loves him, what else is she supposed to do? She can’t turn a blind eye on him.

But this is all too scary for him, because she demands a connection he’s afraid of. Letting someone inside of you means to see your comfortable, perfect, reassuring bubble getting turned upside down, because in a relationship of any kind, you are two, not one. Each with their own expectations, behaviors, personalities. While he has already changed his lifestyle to adapt to one that would be healthy for Akiho, he isn’t definitely ready (or so he thinks) to change his heart. And that’s why, when Akiho mentions that she has changed parts of her thanks to him, he is definitely triggered and literally runs away, interrupting her attempt to tell him “I’m here for you. Let me in. Tell me what’s wrong”.

He doesn’t want to hear that she changed thanks to him, because that would force him to realize that he’s changed too, thanks to her. And what’s more scary than aknowledging that you’re not the same person anymore, that you already have a seat ready in your heart with her name on it?

His feelings are most apparent in the “stupidest” things, like going all the way to cook character bento only for her (that's definitely, definitely, not a butler’s duty), or let nonchalantly slip “because it’s you” without even realizing what that implies (and making Akiho blush furiously) (talking only manga side here, the anime had one huge display of what he feels and we all know which scene it is).

You can well understand why Momo feels so frustrated with him, when the situation is in plain sight and yet he turns a blind eye on it.

So gaslighting and dismissive, we were saying. That’s his defensive reaction because he actually feels like the one attacked, in that moment.

And when he realizes that lies don’t work, he just panics, and instead of elaborating a better lie, he totally cuts her short and runs away. He could’ve said “Thanks Akiho-san, but I’m fine, really”. But no.

That explains quite well why he was shaking, after that. I know CLAMP have skillfully thrown that symptom among his conditions worsening, as soon as he left Akiho’s room, so everyone thinks he was shaking because he’s in terrible shape, and maybe it’s partly true, but I don’t think he would’ve been surprised, if the trembling was caused by his health. He knows he’s dying. He doesn’t wonder why he has heart attacks, he knows what causes them.

Instead, with this, he’s so confused that he even slightly laughs, like he can’t believe what he’s actually feeling.

This is gonna be a rough journey, for Kaito (and for us), because the more he goes on and the more his time narrows down, the more he seems on the brink of insanity. He needs someone interrupting this slippery slope by force, someone who understands where he is coming from, and understands his biggest problem of turning away his eyes from his heart.

Y’all know who I am talking about, right? :D

#cardcaptor sakura #Card Captor Sakura #ccsakura #yunaaki #reply #yuna d. kaito #akiho shinomoto #clear card spoilers #ccs spoilers #chapter 52 #Anonymous

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the parents - Steve x Reader

pairing - Steve x Reader

request - Hi! If possible could you write a something where the reader meets Steve parents for the first time (after being cancelled on so many times) and they’re not the greatest which results in the reader standing up for Steve!

word count - 1.7k

warnings - swearin’

a/n: this was CATHARTIC I hope you enjoy <3

===

Steve’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight that you’re worried he’s going to break his knuckles.

“Hey,” you say calmly, resting your hand on his thigh. “It’s just a dinner.”

“It’s not just a dinner.” He rakes his hand through his hair and clenches his jaw. “It’s a dinner with my… my shitty dad.”

You lean back in your seat with a sigh. Steve had cancelled, and cancelled, and cancelled on his parents. They finally tricked him into coming by with you, and he was not happy. Actually, he was really pissed off.

“Please unclench your jaw. You’re going to break it and you’re too pretty for that.”

He relaxes slightly, a faint smile on his lips. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I think you’re pretty.”

He takes a hand off the steering wheel and laces his fingers through yours, squeezing tightly. “I apologize in advance for whatever they have to say. And whatever they do.”

You roll your eyes at him. “It can’t be that bad.”

===

Turns out, it can be that bad.

Steve’s dad is a literal Bond villain. He smokes a cigar around the house and never takes it out. He has a painful handshake and pointed eyes. He just looks angry, even when he is happy. You’re very nervous around him, but you understand where Steve gets his looks.

His mother is beautiful and meek, compared to her husband. She is very doting on Steve, but has some passive aggressive comments. She hugs you, and she smells like perfume that costs too much for what it is. Steve has her brown eyes.

The atmosphere is tense and hangs over the room like smoke, suffocating and thick. You clear your throat and ask questions in an attempt to stop his father from glaring and his mother from wringing her hands, decorated with diamonds and jewels.

“What was Steve like when he was a kid?” you ask, smiling. You bump into him beside you. “Probably a menace.”

“You can say that again,” his father says, his cigar still hanging from his lips. Steve stiffens beside you and you attempt to quell his anger by rubbing your thumb over his, but it doesn’t do much.

“Awe, Steve wasn’t that bad,” his mom says. Her eyes shine. “He was a little troublemaker, but he was a cutetroublemaker.”

“Mom,” Steve hisses, and you laugh genuinely.

“He liked to get in trouble with the girls, that’s for sure,” his father mumbles. “And how many times have you gotten your ass kicked?”

Steve’s mom slaps his father’s arm, glaring, and you tense up, too, in shock. Your brows furrow and you open and close your mouth. You want to say something, but you can’t. You know it’s probably not a great idea to confront your boyfriend’s father. You can practically hear Steve’s teeth cracking as his jaw clenches again. Your heart aches – there’s nothing you can do to make him feel better except get him out of that house as soon as possible.

“Dinner ready?” you ask, looking directly at his mother, who nods eagerly and jumps up. You follow her to a dining table, decorated with porcelain that must have been imported. She goes to the kitchen to get the food, which leaves you, Steve, and his dad sitting at the table in an awkward silence. You bump your feet into Steve’s repeatedly as a way of silently telling him that you’re here and he’s okay. His mom comes out a second later with a pan, then some pots, and then a pitcher of water infused with fruit.

You feel like you’re at a five-star hotel, if it were run by a Bond villain and a mouse.

Perhaps the worst part of the visit is how everyone sits in complete silence while they eat; or, more accurately, push their food around. You cannot believe this is their actual chemistry with each other; and although Steve is moved out now, you feel horrible that he had to live like this for twenty years. Every night he had to sit at a huge table that could easily sit 8 but is set for 4, watching his father smoke a cigar and read the paper, as his mother desperately tried to get his approval and attention. The thought of it spikes irritation in you, only fueled by the sickly smell of the cigar smoke.

“Like your cigars, huh?” you ask his father, eyes narrowed.

“Imported from Cuba,” he says, as if it’s something to be proud of.

“So, do you smoke while you eat, or?”

Steve chokes on his water beside you and kicks your leg, silently begging you to shut up. You glance at him and smirk – you think it’s kind of funny. His father glares again and slowly sets it on a nearby ashtray, the sizzling of it going out the only sound in the room, aside from forks pushing meat on the china.

“Thanks,” you say sweetly, a shoulder cocking up and back down.

“I like this one,” his father says, pointing a finger at you and smiling. “Does she push you around too, Steve?”

“Sometimes,” you answer for him, forcing a smile.

Steve knows this will simply not be ending well for anyone, and he wants to scream and run out of the room, leaving a Steve-shaped hole in the wall in his wake. He’s nauseous and anxious, bouncing his knee up and down erratically. It makes the table shake, but his folks don’t seem to notice. They’re used to it.

“Steve needs someone to push him around,” his father continues. “He needs someone to give him some motivation.”

You bite your cheek, contemplating if you want to respond or bite back.

You bite back.

“That’s not true. I think Steve needs someone who doesn’t hound him at all hours of the day.”

Steve wants to die.

Steve’s mom wants to die.

“Anybody want dessert?” she asks weakly.

“Well, hounding him all day every day didn’t do much,” his father replies.

“Yeah? I wonder why.”

Steve kicks you under the table again, hissing your name under his breath. He pointedly avoids eye contact with his father.

“Steve must be different around you,” his father says, smiling bitterly. “When he lived here, we couldn’t get him to do anything. It was like he wasn’t capable. Ain’t that right, honey?”

His mother shields her face.

“Steve’s more than capable.” It comes out without thought, and you want so desperately to swallow the anger that rises and sits at the base of your throat, but it comes out in a rush. “Steve’s smart, and caring, and a hard worker.”

His father laughs and your fists clench.

“Maybe Steve didn’t thrive around you because it’s hard to have an asshole as a dad.”

“Y/N,” he hisses, clutching your forearm.

“You know, they always say it’s like father like son. So how many times did you get your ass beat, Mr. Harrington?”

“Too many to count,” Steve’s mom responds, and you stifle a laugh.

“Enough,” Steve and his father say simultaneously, and while his mother slinks back, you sit straight, chin up.

“Don’t like being hounded much yourself, huh?” you ask, and his father’s pupils flare, but he stays quiet.

“Think we better get going,” Steve says, standing up, but you pull him back down.

“I thought your mom said something about dessert. It would be rude to leave now, wouldn’t it?”

Steve is conflicted. On one hand, he hates that you’re talking back to his dad, because he knows more than anyone how it ends. On the other hand, it’s really amazing to have someone see his worth and verbalize it to his biggest critic’s face.

So he decides to sit back down, relaxing at your touch as your fingers swirl circles on his wrist.

“I’ve got a pie in the kitchen –“ his mother starts.

“Let me help you with that!” you say quickly, folding your napkin and sitting it on the table. Steve excuses himself to the bathroom – no way in hell is he going to sit at the table alone with his dad – and you follow his mother to the kitchen while his father follows with his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you start as soon as you get to the kitchen. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable –“

“My husband needs to be told off,” she says, hushed. “And Steve needs someone to tell him he’s worth it.” She grabs your hand and squeezes it, and you swear her eyes are welling with tears. “You’re perfect.”

Over pie, you talk to his mother about Steve, making a point to tell his parents about all the good things he does and everything he is good at. You tell him about how protective he is, how he defended a child from a teenage bully – leaving out the part where he almost got beat to death for it – how kind, caring, thoughtful, courageous he is. Steve blushes the entire time, but he radiates with happiness. For the first time, he feels loved for all he is.

You leave by giving his mother a hug and shaking his father’s hand again, your grip matching his, and while it hurts, it feels good. You smile at him and he frowns. You enjoy his confusion at your behavior. You also enjoy how he hasn’t said a word since you spoke up.

Steve pulls you into a long, tight hug once the front door shuts. It’s so tight that you can hardly breathe. He leans down and kisses you deeply, pulled close to him. Resting his forehead on yours, he whispers, “Thank you.”

“Wasn’t so bad,” you say cheekily. “And I even have something to celebrate with.”

Steve’s brows furrow and you smile before reaching into your jacket and pulling out a box of his father’s beloved Cuban cigars. Steve’s eyes widen and then he laughs – hearty, fully, happily.

“Let’s go home and trash them,” he suggests.

You stand on your tip toes and kiss him again. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

===

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #my fics #I could NEVER I would simply just leave if my bfs dad was being a dick #reader... u go girl

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