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suna-reversed · 4 years

Text

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you.

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life.

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest.

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine.

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest.

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber.

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest.

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection.

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you.

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went.

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person.

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest.

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth,

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind.

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed.

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole.

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart.

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart.

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward.

“At least he kept his promise” You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle.

—-

“At least I kept my promise.”

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus.

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth.

“Nothing!” you reply in unison.

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad.

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy,

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table.

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly.

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.”

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry.

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before.

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.”

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them.

“Is everything okay?’

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you.

“Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi.

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world.

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck.

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps-

it didn’t matter now.

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo tw #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen tw #jjk x you #gojo angst #megumi x reader #megumi smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro

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anon-e-miss · 3 years

Text

Intransigence 10

Jazz left Smokescreen to sit with his originator for the light-cycle and retreated to his office to do some research. Smokescreen remembered the exact date his originator had come home with mechfluid leaking down his neck. There would not be any surveillance footage left but it would be enough reveal at least some things. He kept his optics on Mirage’s cameras, Garboil continued to keep his distance and elude the security forces hunting for him. Some might suggest he had fled to the nearest Con territory but Jazz did not think so and his instincts were generally good. It did not take much poking around to confirm Prowl had been serving at the same station three vorns ago. Numerous article following cases Prowl had investigated were had been well covered at the time, as his more recent ones had been as well. The enforcer had not been anymore enthused about giving interviews.

Through the use of mnemosurgery, an old science but knew as a metaforesics tool, the enforcers were able to catch the face of the killer from the victim’s memory banks. Enforcer Prowl hopes this will be the break they need to catch the Poison Letter Slayer.

The article went on to quote Prowl lambasting the media for giving fanciful monikers to serial killers and encouraging their infamy. Jazz smiled, it struck him as something Prowl would say. There were photos of Prowl printed in articles, never posed. He was always in motion, driving back to the precinct, walking through a crime scene. Where Flatfoot had stopped to pose in front of crowds of reports, Prowl had dodged them with impunity. There was a particular photo that intrigued Jazz. Prowl had been captured for eternity mid shout, digit raised as he lectured an overzealous reporter for sneaking under the crime scene tape to take a photo of the victim. Again, Jazz smiled. But then, he frowned as in the background, a figure, familiar to him, stood out. Chromedome sneered at the cameras... or was he sneering at Prowl?

He clapped his servo over his face. It was so fragging obvious, how had he not made the connection right away? Three vorns ago, he had bonded to Rewind, just before he had resigned to study at the New Institute where earned his designation, Chromedome. Before that, he had been called Tumbler. He had been an enforcer. Jazz did not know the mech well but through Jazz’s friendship with Blaster, he had been around the mech often enough to have heard stories of the toxic partner who had led let to Chromedome resigning. From the way Rewind had tensed upon the telling of these stories, Jazz had gotten the impression that Chromedome’s relationship with this partner had not been platonic, at least not always. Trusting his instincts, Jazz tug deeper into the archives.

“That’s the fragger,” Jazz declared out loud as he saw Tumbler’s designation in print alongside Prowl’s in an article covering a murder trial. It was one of those rare occasions when Flatfoot had forced Prowl to stand beside him during a press conference. On the front page of the Iacon Gazette’s Prima-tur edition, standing the shadows behind Prowl, was Chromedome.

Only Prowl’s glyph would confirm it. Checking the time, Jazz thought it was time to give Smokescreen a break. As he walked to the medbay, he took an update from Mirage. Hound had, true to his designation, caught Garboil’s sent near his abandoned habsuite, near to the far edge of the enforcers’ search grid. Jazz wished them a good hunt as he prepared to launch one of his own. Jazz kept his languid pace as Chromedome walked passed him as Jazz approached the medbay, nodding his helm as Chromedome did the same for him. He was too seasoned an operative to ever let a glitchmouse know that they were his unlucky prey. What had the mnemosurgeon been doing near at the medbay? Jazz frowned as he stepped through the doors. Might Prowl’s most imminent danger be closer to home?

“Hey Ratch?” Jazz called to the CMO.

“What have you done?” The CMO asked tiredly.

“Broken the case,” Jazz declared. “I need ya to do me a solid.”

“What?”

“Put Prowl’s room on level six clearance,” Jazz said.

“That creep spotted near the base?” Ratchet asked.

“No,” Jazz replied. “I got a lead on the mnemosurgeon that scrambled Prowl.”

“Who?” Ratchet demanded. Jazz sighed.

“I can’t tell ya,” he said. “Not ‘til I actually confirm from scrap.”

“The Autobots’ mnemosurgeons are on my staff,” Ratchet growled. “I need to know if one is rogue.”

“As soon as I can tell ya, I will,” Jazz said. “I could be wrong, ya know.”

“But you don’t think you are.”

“No.”

Level six clearance would mean on Ratchet and a select few medbay personal would be allowed in Prowl’s treatment room, apart from Jazz and Smokescreen. His treatment files would be under a tighter encryption. It could well be for nothing, Jazz’s guess could be well off but the in a casual aside, so easy to overlook, buried in the many articles covering Prowl’s career, had been the designation of Prowl’s partner. Tumbler. The stories of Chromedome’s toxic ex partner circled through Jazz’s helm. Prowl had said neither of them had behaved well. What had he meant by that. Three vorns ago, Chromedome had bonded to Rewind. They had been going through the Rites for a full vorn already. What could have happened between Chromedome and Prowl that it would have led the mnemosurgeon performing a hack and slash surgery? An affair?

“Hey Smokey, Prowl,” Jazz greeted the pair as he entered the treatment room. “‘M thinkin’ ya outta stretch yer legs Smokey. Grab some fuel. Maybe catch a joor’s recharge in my office.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said. “I have been trying to tell him the same thing.”

“I’ll keep yer ori company,” Jazz promised Smokescreen. Prowl snorted.

“Okay,” Smokescreen replied. “He’ll be even safer with you than with me.”

“I am perfectly safe, Smokescreen,” Prowl sighed. Obviously this argument had been circling around and around. “I am in the middle of the Autobot base!”

“You can never be sure,” Smokescreen replied. “You never know.”

“I’ll keep’m safe,” Jazz promised. “Catch some zzz’s Smokey. Ya need ‘em.”

“I’ll be back in a joor,” Smokescreen promised.

“Two,” Jazz countered. “Get some fuel, get some rest.”

“Okay,” Smokescreen acquiesced. “Two. Behave, Origin.”

“Recharge, Bitlet,” Prowl replied. Jazz saw his rookie’s cheekplates flush. That was, no doubt, a mechlinghood nickname. Smokescreen made his retreat as he tried to save face.

“Have you made progress with your investigation?” Prowl asked as Jazz settled into the seat Smokescreen had vacated.

“One o’em,” Jazz replied. “Tell me, Prowl, if this designation sounds familiar to ya. Tumbler.”

“You know it does,” Prowl said, flinching enough that he winced with pain from jarring his welds. “Or you would not be asking.”

“Ya was partners,” Jazz said. “He’s talked ‘bout ya, never by designation. It ain’t complimentary.”

“I am not at all surprised,” Prowl replied.

“A lil over three vorns ago, he quit the enforcers o’er a toxic partner,” Jazz said. “He had just been bonded to the creation o’ a friend of mine.”

“He was forced to resign,” Prowl corrected him. “He was caught performing mneomosurgery on a suspect. In order to protect his new mneomosurgery division, Flatfoot covered it up. He would not have been able to if the suspect had remembered. But he did not so Tumbler was permitted to resign rather than face internal affairs.”

“Ya must o’ been relieved to see ‘m go,” Jazz said. “Seein’ the mech that raped ya every shift woulda been a wakin’ memory purge.”

“I do not know that he raped me,” Prowl replied, sinking into the medberth. “I do not remember.”

“I was talkin’ bout the mnemosurgery,” Jazz corrected, sombrely. “But ya ain’t.”

“I know we interfaced,” Prowl said, flatly. “I just do not know if it was only consensual.”

“What do ya remember?” Jazz asked.

“We argued,” Prowl replied. “I was angry. We had interfaced. I remember. I was leaning on my desk and I was angry because his bonding crest fell out of his subspace. He had told me he had called it off.”

“How did he get his needles in ya?” Jazz asked.

“I turned by back to him,” Prowl said. “I may have told him to leave. I may have threatened him. I was angry. I remember being enraged. I remember having my face pinned to my desk as his needles cut into my helm. I can hear, in my memory, I can hear cursing and grunting. I do not know if he spiked me after or during the mnemosurgery. I do not know if fragments of memories are superimposing on others.”

“Ya feel like he did,” Jazz guessed from Prowl’s posture.

“I do not know,” Prowl replied. “My spark was racing the next mega-cycle. It felt like it did when I was trying to kindle with Smokescreen. I had an implant but they are not reliable against merges unless the other spark is also outfitted with an implant. I knew Tumbler did not have one. He did not see any need. We never merged. It was a sore spot for him. He thought, considering I had an implant and a plug I was being fussy. My armour was scuffed... It could have been from struggling. I had a baffle installed just in case.”

#anon-e-miss writes #intransigence #victim blaming #rape #date rape #mind rape #abuse #tf prowl #tf jazz #maccadams #valveplug

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

for the kiss prompts series? 67+jontim (or really Tim+anyone?) 🥺

67 - When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More

i stuck with jontim! takes place pre-canon when jon and tim worked together in research, featuring mutual pining <3

cw for alcohol

“Okay, that was hands down the worst holiday party I’ve ever been to,” Tim says as soon as they’re outside the Institute, tugging on the tie around his neck to loosen it. It’s adorned with little reindeer and it lights up. As Tim had so eagerly demonstrated the moment he’d met up with Sasha and Jon.

Jon doesn’t like parties in general, so he doesn’t think he’s the best judge of what makes a party good or bad. He takes a guess. “Because of the alcohol?”

“More like the lack thereof,” Tim grumbles as they start toward the tube station. “I know it’s a work party, but come on. Not even spiked eggnog? Not even wine? What kind of person has a party without wine?”

“Elias, apparently.”

Tim groans. “Don’t know what I was expecting, really. The man looks like he’s never had fun in his life, ever.” Tim slings an arm around Jon’s shoulder and pulls him into his side as he walks, and Jon tries to pretend like his heart rate doesn’t skyrocket at the contact. He’s just glad it’s dark enough out that Tim can’t see the flush of heat across his cheeks. “So, then. Back to mine?”

Jon’s heart rate has, apparently, not yet reached maximum speed. “What?” he manages to say, his pulse hammering in his ears. He’s just glad that the word comes out mostly normal, if a bit choked.

“The night’s still young,” Tim says, oblivious to Jon’s internal turmoil, “and I’m still in need of a drink or three, especially after all of that. I’ve got a batch of eggnog in the fridge. I’ve also got a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon—that fancy brand you like.”

Tim knows what brand of wine you like, one part of Jon’s mind supplies. The other part says, Of course he knows what you like; you’ve been friends for a year and a half. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Oh,” Jon says. “Yes, I’d love to- er, that- that sounds… nice?”

He barely holds back a wince. Very smooth, Jonathan.

“Great!” Tim says, unbothered. He pulls Jon a little tighter against his side, and when Jon shivers, it’s not just from the chill of the night air.

In the time it takes them to get to Tim’s house, Jon has relaxed a bit, settling into a comfortable rhythm of laughing at Tim’s jokes, offering his own awkward attempts in return, and letting the warmth of Tim’s laughter soak into him like the summer sun. It’s fine, he tells himself as Tim puts a hand on his shoulder, lingering just long enough that Jon can still feel the weight of it when Tim pulls away. It’s the same as always, he tells himself as Tim grabs his hand on their way off the tube, gently guiding him through the late-night crowds and into the bite of the open air. (Tim doesn’t let go until they get to his house, which Jon tries very hard not to have a minor crisis about.) It’s just Tim, he tells himself as Tim places a hand on the small of his back as he reaches around him to grab the glasses from his kitchen cabinet. (Jon almost drops the bottle of wine he’s holding. Which would have been quite embarrassing.)

It’s not even like this is new. This tightness in his chest, the way his breath catches a bit every time Tim smiles at him, the way he sometimes finds himself staring at Tim’s lips and wondering if they’re as soft as they look. And Jon’s not naïve. As much as he despises the word itself, he knows that at some point, he’d developed quite a potent crush. He just tries very, very hard to ignore it.

Because, well. He hasn’t been in a relationship since Georgie, and while their breakup had been unspectacular by most standards, it still ate a hole in his chest filled with a nagging certainty that if they’d remained just friends, he wouldn’t have had to go through the pain of falling slowly out of contact with her. And he doesn’t want that to happen with Tim. So it doesn’t matter how badly Jon wants to hold Tim’s hand and curl up into his side and kiss him. He’ll ignore it like he’s been doing for the past three months, and it’ll be fine.

But it’s getting harder and harder. Especially at moments like this one, with Tim pressed up against Jon’s side on the couch and his voice right next to Jon’s ear as he points out his favorite parts in the movie they’d put on. Jon’s unsure if the heat in his cheeks is from the proximity or from the three glasses of wine he’s consumed, and he’s fairly certain that Tim’s on his fourth glass of eggnog. Tim’s glass is shaped like a little reindeer head, which he thinks Tim had said is a reference to something. He’d been too busy looking at the way Tim’s rolled-up shirt sleeves showed his forearms to process what, exactly, it was a reference to.

“You know,” Tim says, cutting through Jon’s train of thought, “I never really understood the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing.”

Jon’s heart jumps into his throat. “Sorry, what?”

“You know,” Tim says, shifting from his position against Jon’s side so he can set his glass on the table before propping his feet up next to it. His socks have felt reindeer antlers on the sides of them. Jon’s beginning to notice a theme. “One person lays eyes on the other and boom. They’re in love.” He gestures toward the screen, which is currently displaying a quite detailed kissing scene. Jon looks away, face burning. “Do people really do that? Just know that they love someone with- without knowing anything about them? Feels a bit shallow, if you ask me. You’ve got to just go based on- on physical appearance or something.”

At a loss, Jon says, slowly, “Yes, I… I suppose?”

“Right.” Tim nods once, like he’s settled something. “Me, though, I need to know somebody first, you know? Always used to get me in a bit of trouble in uni, falling in love with my best friends and all that. But isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Your partner is your partner, yeah, but they’re also your friend.”

“Right,” Jon says faintly. His heartbeat is hummingbird-fast, and he thinks his hands might be shaking just a bit. “Tim, what—?”

“It just- it doesn’t make any sense!” Tim turns to face Jon then, his cheeks flushed and his hair a bit messy from where he’d tugged some of it free from its bun. “It’s like- like, I love the way you look, yeah, but also- also the way you laugh and the way you take your tea and the types of books you read as a child. You know, the things that make you you. I fall in love with all of the little things, piece by piece, and then I’m just- just in love. Full stop.”

Jon thinks he might actually be dreaming right now. Or dying. One of the two. “Um,” he says, the word choked by the lump in his throat. “Are- are you using the universal ‘you,’ or…?”

Tim is quiet for a moment. His eyes are heavy on Jon’s face, as if searching for something. Then, sounding very much like a man who’s just decided to jump off a cliff and hope that there’s something below to catch him, he says, “You, Jon. And I promise that it’s not the rum talking.”

“Oh,” Jon says quietly. “I… I see.”

He realizes a beat later, when Tim’s face has folded ever so slightly inward and he’s begun to move away, how dismissive that had sounded. Quickly, and a bit panicked, Jon reaches out and wraps a hand firmly around Tim’s upper arm, like if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough Tim will slip away. “No, it’s- I’m, sorry, I just- I didn’t—”

Jon makes a noise of frustration, because of course, now that he needs them, the words won’t come easily. His eyes find Tim’s face—the gentle slope of his nose, the small birthmark by the corner of his eye, the five o’clock shadow across his jaw—before settling on his lips. And before Jon makes the conscious decision to do so, he leans forward and kisses him.

Tim makes a surprised noise against Jon’s mouth, something low and breathy. After a moment, Tim pulls back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” he says, more hesitantly than Jon’s ever heard him before. “Are- are you sure you—?”

Yes, Jon wants to say. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you.

Instead, he leans forward and captures the rest of Tim’s sentence with his lips. After a moment, Tim’s hands go to Jon’s waist, pulling him close, and Jon slips his hands up to the sides of Tim’s face, feeling the heat of Tim’s skin against his as he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

At some point, weeks later, Tim will joke that they have Elias to thank for them finally putting an end to the mutual pining, and Jon will give a full-body shudder and say that he would rather not think of Elias when remembering their first kiss, thank you very much. But for now, Jon holds Tim close and kisses him and lets the light, giddy feeling in his chest overtake him until it feels like he’s weightless and floating, grounded only by the feeling of Tim’s hands on his hips and the way Tim smiles against his lips and whispers, softly and reverently, I love you.

I love you too, Jon says, resting his head against Tim’s shoulder to hide his smile and to try to breathe around the affection blossoming in his chest. I love you, I love you, I love you.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #my writing #my fic #ft. some demiromantic tim!#anyone who guesses what the glasses reference is gets a gold star #on that note: this is my last kiss prompt!!! i've done it lads

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mysoftboybensolo · 3 years

Text

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 13: The Holidays

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.

The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.

It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.

As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”

“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”

“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It��s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”

“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.

“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”

Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”

“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”

Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”

Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”

Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”

Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”

“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”

“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”

He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.

“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”

She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”

Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.

Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.

Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.

Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.

Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.

When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.

Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.

“How long have you done this?”

“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”

Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.

It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”

Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.

The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”

Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”

Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”

“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.

Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.

The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.

It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”

“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.

“Yes. I was quite good.”

“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”

“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.

Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”

“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”

It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.

The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.

Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.

The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.

It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.

“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”

Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.

It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl @cazzyimagines, @scuttle-buttle, @violetmuses @flutterskies @sokoviandelights @rumblelibrary @fictionlandslanddreams @somethingthatsaysbubbles @alindeluce and @barnesxnobles

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #fanfiction

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

Angel Blood

Clary Fray x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2113 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader has been protecting Clary all her life, and hiding a huge secret.

—————————————————————————————————

Clary was almost positive that she was out of her mind.

After everything she’d seen at the club tonight, she had to be going crazy.

Of course she was because there was no other explanation for what was going on. Everything that she had seen, everything that was going on, it wasn’t real.

There was no way any of this was real.

People didn’t just vanish out of thin air ever, and that thing in the club had tentacles in its face, not to mention the fact that she was ninety-nine percent sure that she had killed a guy. It was hardly what she’d expected from her eighteenth birthday when she woke up this morning.

Still, she knew what she saw.

There was no way to explain it, and she was sure that she was going insane, but at least she knew what she had seen.

If there was anything she had, it was that, and thankfully, it was more than enough for you to help her. When she told you what had happened, you believed her completely and totally, which did make her feel a little better.

Though, to be fair, you knew a lot more about this than she did.

This was in her blood.

Clary was a shadowhunter, she was born for this, and while it didn’t make sense now, you were sure that she would adjust. All she needed was time, and a little guidance, which you and the others would be able to give her.

Not that you wanted Jace to be involved at all.

After all, it was his idea to bring her back to the institute, which was a terrible idea from the start. Mundanes couldn’t be here, ever, and there wasn’t supposed to be any exceptions to that, even where Clary was concerned.

She couldn’t just be here.

You told Jace that as soon as he got back, holding her tight to his chest all full of demon venom, but were immediately ignored by the male. He had already made up his mind, and when he did that, there was nothing you could do to stop him.

Logic didn’t have a place in Jace’s mind.

In general, this wasn’t something that you tended to deal in because mundane business wasn’t for you to worry about but for some reason, he had this idea that he had to save her.

He wanted to keep her safe.

You understood that this mattered to him, for whatever reason, but this was a bit much.

Alec made the argument that bringing her here was dangerous for not only her but also everyone else in the building, and this was one of those rare instances where you found yourself inclined to agree with him.

Jace had gone too far and now, he’d managed to rope you all in with him.

It was insane.

You had been watching over her and Jocelyn all your life, but now, Jace had just swooped in to save the day. It was something that there was no going back from and you just had to hope that when Clary woke up, she’d be able to handle it.

“How could you be so reckless?” you huffed, protecting Clary was your job.

You had been her best friend forever and you were someone she was familiar with. If anyone was going to take care of her in Jocelyn’s absence, it should have been you.

It was literally all you were here for, but in typically Jace Wayland fashion, he had found a way to take that out from under you as well.

Now, you were going to have to get past him to do anything, like you always had to, as if the other shadowhunters needed another reason to doubt your abilities.

“I saved her life, shouldn’t you be thanking me?” he grinned, that telling smirk on his face that remained there indefinitely. Normally, you would have just shrugged him off but today you could have knocked off if you felt so inclined.

He could be so frustrating sometimes, so sure of himself that no one else mattered.

It was nearly enough to drive you out of your mind.

In all the years that you had known Clary, you had kept a close relationship with all of the shadowhunters as well. You were one of them, and though this life was a difficult one, hiding it from Clary and all, it was just what you had to do.

You had to protect her, more than anything else, and as difficult as it was, that was all that mattered at the end of the day.

Jocelyn loved you like a child of her own, she trusted you with her secrets and most importantly, she trusted you to protect Clary when she couldn’t. That was the whole reason you were here, the whole reason you had been by her side for so many years.

At this point, you loved her more than anyone and you certainly didn’t want her getting involved with Jace Wayland.

Not because you were jealous, of course, but because you wanted what was best for her.

That was all.

“I’ll thank you when I’m sure she’s safe” you countered, gingerly brushing a lock of her hair from her face, where it had fallen in the entire tussle. She was in a lot of pain, with the venom taking its toll on her, but her body was taking the healing rune well.

She was going to be fine.

However, until she was awake and calmed down, you weren’t going to be able to relax.

For whatever reason, this was the most stressful thing you’d ever gone through. You’d had years to go run through this in your mind, but now that it was happening, you were lost.

This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Jocelyn had been careful, crazy even, so that Clary wouldn’t find out about who and what she was before you were ready to deal with it, but now, you were on your own. She wasn’t here to help you figure this out.

For now, Jocelyn was gone and you just had to do your best to explain this whole thing to her.

“She’s going to be fine, she’s one of us. She’s strong” Jace shrugged, looking down at her from where he was at your side, still doing his best to figure out what it was about her that was so special.

Clearly, she had made an imprint on the both of you and he wasn’t even sure why yet. To be fair though, he didn’t know her like you did.

He never could.

“Yeah, that’s one thing we can agree on” you allowed, gingerly giving him a shrug. You weren’t sure what it was you were going to do when she woke up, or how blending your two worlds into one would work, but before you could worry about it, she shot up in bed.

The action was quick and startled you slightly but you didn’t pay that any mind. Instead, you sat down beside her and did the only thing you knew to do, the thing you were best at.

You tried to calm her down.

Even now, that was all you could think about.

“Good Morning sleepyhead” you tried, doing your best to stay calm, but it was a sad attempt at best. You were clearly shaken, startled over her abrupt awakening, but thankfully, Clary was still a little out of it.

To her, this whole thing must have felt like a dream, so she only smiled at you at first. What had happened today was the last thing on her mind as she looked at you, at least, for a few seconds.

However, as soon as she reached up and grazed the portal shard hanging around her neck, she panicked. The object brought back everything she’d gone through in the past few hours and the recollection she had was distressing to her.

No one in their right mind would handle it well, you knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

While you weren’t surprised by the world you’d grown up in, you weren’t under any illusions as to how jarring it must have been to her. Waking up in this place was more than enough to freak her out, and Jace certainly wasn’t helping either.

“What is going on? Where are we? Where is my mother?” she asked, immediately bringing all the current issues to the forefront.

They were swirling around in her head, looming over her, and not one of them made sense. It was too much and you definitely couldn’t blame her for being overwhelmed.

“We will explain everything Clary, trust me” you hummed, taking her hand in your own in one final attempt at comforting her. You had no idea how this would go, but if nothing else, at least she was at the institute now.

As difficult as Jace could be to deal with, you knew that she would be safe as long as he was looking out for her.

At the very least, you could give him that.

Jace wasn’t exactly thrilled when you asked her for a moment alone with Clary to explain but eventually, he decided that it would just be best to do as you asked. The two of you had an understanding, that it would be much better to just try to find common ground.

Besides, Jace wasn’t exactly the best one to tell her everything, not when there was so much technical history to bring her up to speed on.

She needed you.

“What is going on?” she repeated, not speaking again until you returned to her bedside, having stepped away for a moment to ask Jace for some privacy. She had no idea what was going on yet, and unfortunately, you weren’t sure your explanation would help.

There was just too much happening in your world to sum up in one conversation.

Still, you knew that you had to try.

“I’ll fill you in more as it comes up, but there are some things I need to tell you before then” you started, hoping that the more you filled her in, the easier this would get for her to digest, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Mundanes couldn’t handle the world outside that they were used to, and while Clary wasn’t necessarily mundane, she had been raised that way. Until you figured out what Jocelyn wanted for her, you had to just fly by the seat of your pants through this whole thing.

“We’re Shadowhunters, Clar” you hummed, giving her a soft smile as you often did while looking at her. Even now, as disoriented and lost as she was, she was the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen.

Hopefully as this whole thing came into the light, you would actually see the benefits of bringing her fully into your world.

At least she would understand you completely now.

“We have angel blood, and that makes it our responsibility to protect the human world from demons and other downworlders” you tried, finding it much more difficult to sum up everything that being a shadowhunter intold than you would have thought.

It was really complicated.

Still, Clary didn’t seem completely lost as you assumed she would. She was bewildered of course, but she was silent by the time you’d finished, startling you that much more. For whatever reason, it was more alarming than if she would have freaked out.

It just made you worry that much more that she was losing it.

“I know it’s a lot, but I’m going to be here the whole time to help you figure it out. You’re going to be okay”

The words came out forced but you really meant them. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew that no matter what came your way, the two of you would be able to deal with it.

You always had, and now that the rest of the shadowhunters were involved, it would be even easier.

You could do this.

“Please don’t leave, there’s no way I can manage all this without you” she hummed, after a few seconds of silence as she thought over what you were suggesting. She had lost way too much already and if she had to do this without you, she’d be completely lost.

She couldn’t do this without you.

“Clar, I’m not going anywhere” you promised, this time fully confident in the words leaving your lips. You loved Clary, and whether or not she knew it, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her.

No matter what happened, nothing was going to happen to her.

#clary fray #city of bones #mortal instruments city of bones #mortal instruments #clary fray x reader #clary fray x ps reader #clary fray x plus size reader #clary fray imagine #city of bones x reader #city of bones x ps reader #city of bones x plus size reader #city of bones imagine #mortal instruments x reader #mortal instruments x ps reader #mortal instruments x plus size reader #mortal instruments imagine #femslash

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asleepinawell · 4 years

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hiii not sure if it’s okay to ask a poi question but here it goes - i recall seeing you expressing (at least some level of) discontent with what Harold has done on the show (to root, to shaw and all those hypocritical decisions throughout). would you like to share more about your thoughts on this character? tks

always okay to ask poi questions. since the fandom is pretty small these days i was going to put my answer under a read more line so people could ignore it more easily if it’s a subject that bothers them but apparently you can’t add read more lines in ask answers? thanks tumblr! so if this is a topic that annoys anyone, please, just skip it. also, while some of this is facts or based on facts a lot of stuff is obviously my opinion and therefore not canon and not the only opinion etc etc.

in general, i wasn’t crazy about the way harold treated any of the other characters (with the exception of john who he had a pretty great relationship with). for root, there was the refusal to call her root, which i found very gross and uncomfortable (like, in general you should respect what people ask to be called, but also it was linked to the traumatic death of her childhood friend and he absolutely knew that so fuck that shit). he even said something along the lines of 'john reese is what you prefer to be called' to john right in the first episode? he was okay with using reese's fake name, but not hers because he made her identity into a power game.

he also tended to be..hmm, patronizing is the wrong word (and lbr root was extremely patronizing to everyone) but more that he treated her like ‘rehabilitating’ her was his pet project or something. i mean one thing that always struck me was his ‘what happened to you’ line in bad code and then the subsequent decision to put her in a mental institution instead of, you know, jail, which is where every other perp they ran into tended to go. he saw her as broken and flawed and in need of his help which, to me, came off as hypocritical and belittling.

also, putting someone in a psychiatric institution where they get pumped full of drugs when they don’t need to be? really fucked up! even if you argue root needed therapy/was depressed whatever, that’s not what they were treating her for. they were treating her for ‘delusions’ and ‘hearing voices’ which were...real things. like, the machine was speaking to her. harold knew that. he let her get put on all sorts of medication and put in solitary confinement and oh yes also her doctor was a really fucked up dude, something harold could easily have dug up if he’d bothered. also the whole ‘killing off a woman to advance a man’s character development thing’ is, uh, a bad trope. to put it mildly. i could write a lot more about his shit with root but let’s move on.

in some ways, his attitude towards shaw bothers me most. he consistently treats her like she’s violent and unhinged because she has aspd and despite the large amount of evidence to the contrary. she is, in fact, the most cool and controlled member of the team (not counting carter) and the least likely to go off half-cocked. shaw does play into this, but mostly only with harold and only through her words, not her actions. she knows what he thinks of her. when she’s captured by samaritan, harold gives up on her very quickly in a way he would never have done for john (and probably not for root either at that point). shaw’s reaction to sim!harold in 6741 of ‘did you even look for me’ says a lot about what she thinks he thinks of her. his whole ‘binary moral compass’ line to her is also, uh, heavily projecting. shaw and carter had the strongest moral compasses of the group. by a long shot.

moving on to the machine. so first and foremost, if you’re creating a sentient being, whether that’s having a kid or making a self-aware AI, you don’t create something with the intention of locking it up and ignoring it forever. (and he was creating her for the bush/cheney administration???? who TM pointed out was terrible if he somehow had managed to miss that. root called them something like the worst people imaginable and she wasn’t exaggerating). was it too dangerous to let TM be free from the get go? maybe! but then don’t fucking make an AI you think can destroy the world, buddy. there are a lot of reasons he made TM and none of them make this acceptable to me. once TM had clearly proven to be not a threat and trying to help he continued to ignore her and act like she was dangerous.

harold always needed very badly to feel like he had the moral high ground and not be the person who made a bad decision, which yes, is probably partly due to the trauma from what happened to nathan but that doesn’t make it okay when being paralyzed by being unable to make a decision got people killed. more than once! also, most of his morals got tossed out when they weren’t convenient. wouldn’t kill the senator to save the world because killing is bad! next episode he’s like if anything happens to grace kill all of them. cool story, still murder.

i wanna conclude this rant by talking about harold as a character vs harold as a person. meaning, harold as a fictional character who is used as a narrative device in a story as opposed to harold himself without the context of him being fictional. i don’t mind characters who say and do things i dislike. it’s very important to have characters you dislike as people imo. feels like an understatement. but lambet, for example, is a slimy asshole. the story is aware of this. he gets an ending a slimy asshole deserves. harold has a lot of flaws, and causes a lot of damage, gets his friends killed, and his stubborn refusal to budge on his arbitrary moral high ground lets samaritan take over and almost makes team machine lose. he gets a happy ending. with the woman he lied to (and caused a lot of pain and grief by lying to). root ends up dead, shaw gets tortured and fights her way back for root only to have her die which is kind of handwaved as ‘well she has tm with root’s voice good enough’, and john, after having rediscovered his will to live and have a life in the end of s4 goes right back to his whole dying for someone else thing. only harold gets the happy ending.

the show was actually pretty good at highlighting harold’s flaws and making them interesting, and then it kind of forgot that at the end in terms of story outcome. like, if harold had suffered enough to get a happy ending, then why didn’t anyone else get one? so my annoyance was with the narrative’s failure to satisfactorily conclude the characters’ arcs. (and for the record, i’m not one of the people who think he should have died. i don’t think it would have served a point. also death doesn’t equal redemption to me).

so, yeah, not a fan of him. don’t write him in my fics since my dislike would take time and focus away from writing about the people i do like. would probably be less bitter if they’d ended the show better. i was 300k words fic level of bitter. there was some post i saw going around recently about how if your found family show doesn’t end up with your found family together then you’ve kind of missed the whole point of found family and yeah, that.

#mp #asks #poi meta #don't send me hate messages or comments about this #i will just block you without responding #too tired for fandom discourse #i said at the beginning don't read if it'll bug you #so if you did anyway #that's on you #Anonymous

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polin-erospsyche · 3 years

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The prompt number 16 is quite interesting lol 16. “Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” Choose the ship/character you like :)

Hello! Ok, there are literally zero reasons as to why it took me a year to write this bloody thing except maybe that I had some not fun moments and also this literally never could have been written if I hadn’t waited this long. I don’t know if you’ll read it. You’ve probably forgotten about this in all fairness but if you do read it I hope you like it.

Also taking this opportunity to thank everyone for following me. I’m at 400 followers! This is insane. I’m not sure why you’re all following tbh but to celebrate I forced myself to finish this long overdue fic, hope you like it! Also disclaimer: I love all of the characters from TLH. I am aware of the existing debate around Matthew and Alastair and my writing in here does not represent my point of view. But I I decided to represent Matthew and his view in this way for story telling purpose. Please don’t come at me with gun blazing. If you do wanna talk, we can, but in peace 😊💕

Somewhere Where Our Shadows Meet, It Feels Like Coming Home -

a Fairdale one-shot (is that even their brotp name???)

This was the fifth time James was rereading the passage of the book he had picked up. It was no use. Each time he finished the page he had already forgotten the beginning. His mind was foggy with a multitude of thoughts. Thoughts about Lucie and her strange dalliance with a boy who used to be a ghost, about Grace which inevitably led to unsolicited questions on his own identity, and, as much as he tried not to think about it, thoughts of Matthew and Cordelia. He really did not enjoy these last kinds of thoughts. He couldn’t help but imagine what kind of relationship could have blossomed between the two during their trip to Paris. He knew how Matthew felt, but when it came to Cordelia, he had no single clue. He constantly wondered as to whether she hated or loved him. Daring to hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. Just for that hope to vanish the next second because there was no possible way he did not ruin it. And even if ever decided to ask her, he would have no idea how to approach the topic without sounding like an arrogant bastard.

James let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders, trying to let go of the tension. He was pretty sure that if he ventured to look at himself in the mirror that was hung above the chimney, he would see huge dark circles beneath his eyes. Circles which color could rival the color of London’s night sky. A result of many nights plagued by bad dreams and worry. During some of those sleepless nights, James had gone to Cordelia’s room. The first time it was under the pretext of looking for books. Her room had been full of her personal belongings. A bottle of perfume on her vanity table, an evening dress carefully laid out on the chaise longue, a copy of Majun and Layla on her bedside table. So many little pieces of who Cordelia was scattered in a room she had run away from. She hadn’t been back to Curzon street since that night. Upon arriving in London, she had decided to move back with her mother using the excuse of the soon-to-be new baby’s arrival. James kept going to her home though, eventually admitting to himself that he did so because of the smell of Jasmin that lingered. It was the closest thing he had to a semblance of her presence in the house. It was a soft smell that grounded him. It was also a heady smell that reminded him of the sweetness he had lost.

He shook himself out of thoughts of her. Something he had gotten quite good at to be fair, considering how many times he thought of her in the span of a day. Pushing himself up from the table he was leaning against, he closed the book he was reading, giving up on understanding it, and made his way to the window. Outside the sky was tinged in pastel colors drawing the day to a close. James would slowly make his way back home. He would rehash the day, come up with new plans to wake his sister from her deep sleep, find out that these plans would fail again come morning, and finally decide that he would need to eat a bite because going to bed with an empty stomach was just not advisable. His parents had offered for him to stay at the Institute with them but James had refused. He preferred the calm and silence of Curzon Street. He found that the bittersweet cloak that covered his house was, in some ways, almost reassuring. Maybe he was going insane. Just when he was ready to go bid his goodnight to his family, he heard the doors of the library open wide behind him and slammed shut again.

“Did you know?” Matthew growled. James might have thought that he himself had gone slightly deranged chasing down the smell of Jasmin throughout his home, but at least he did not look half as unhinged as Matthew looked right this instant. Matthew’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, and his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you alright?” James asked, keeping an even tone.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

Matthew took a few strides in James’ direction. His stare holding James’ gaze in place as if daring James to contrary him. “Did you know about Thomas?”

“Um yes,” James nodded, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I do know Thomas.” At that Matthew narrowed his eyes and almost seemed as if he was trying hard not to grind his teeth. Noted. Attempts at humor and alleviating the situation were not going to work. “What about him?” James tried again. His smile replaced by a serious gaze.

“Did you know about Alastair?” Matthew asked, almost spatting out Alastair’s name.

James took a few steps back, reinstating the much-needed personal space for such a conversation. James did know about Alastair, but only because Thomas had looked so miserable and James had pried so insistently that Thomas had had no choice but to give up his well-kept secret. James had understood, sometimes you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. Sometimes you fell in love with something that only you saw in the other person. Love was usually shrouded in mystery this way, best not to question how it worked. Obviously, by the look of things, Matthew did not agree.

“Please sit down,” James pointed to one of the green velvet armchairs. “I’ll pour you a drink.” James said, making his way to the stash of liquor in one of the dark wooden commodes. James had always wondered what kind of people, for what kind of situation kept alcohol in the library of all rooms. It always seemed to him that a secret stash of tea would have been more appropriate. Now he understood what kind of situation required people to put alcohol in every room, even if it was just one abandoned bottle of Parkmore. “Is Whiskey alright?” James turned his head in Matthew’s direction.

“So you knew?” Matthew answered, seemingly in a staring competition with the mustard yellow wallpaper in front of him. “He told you?”

Whiskey it would be for a total lack of all other present choices James thought as he started to pour a glass.

Matthew kept going on his verbal onslaught towards the wallpaper. In all fairness mustard yellow was a color that could potentially enrage everyone. “How can he? It’s Alastair that we are talking about. It’s not as if there wasn’t any other man in London that Thomas couldn’t have a fling for.”

James very much doubted that a fling could start to describe Thomas’s feelings for Alastair. However, seeing how Matthew was nearly spitting out every single one of his words, he thought it safer not to share this piece of information.

“Matthew, please calm down and control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” James handed the glass to Matthew, which he waved away.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

James squinted. “Since when?”

“Since Paris.”

James couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest at the mention of Paris. Paris city of lights, city of lovers. An escape his friend had taken with the only girl James had ever, truly, loved since he was barely old enough to understand the concept. It was a wondrous thing how much pain a single word could hold.

“What a strange place to decide to stop drinking.” James took a sip of the honey-colored liquid, trying to hide his hurt to the best of his ability.

“Cordelia asked me to. That was her condition for coming with me.”

James did not want to go in the general direction of a conversation that involved Cordelia. Especially not if that conversation was with Matthew. He had written a letter. James had understood. He slightly had the urge to strangle his best friend for going with her; for loving her; he did not quite know. But that was it. They hadn’t spoken of Paris nor of Cordelia together and that was for the best. Neutral conversations were for the best, they could avoid the hurt and the blame, and if James let it come to that again who knew what would be next. Yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“Why did you leave?”

Matthew turned to James, his anger receding ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” A beat, a choice to either keep going or retreat before it is too late. A beat, a choice to see where this could go “why did you go to Paris?”

“You owe me an answer first. Did you know about Alastair?”

“Yes.”

“How could you not tell me?”

“You weren’t here Matthew.” James’ voice almost broke, almost. “How was I supposed to tell you anything?”

James had wanted to throw so much more at Matthew’s face. Throw words that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He had been feeling so alone. So utterly lost after Grace’s admission. After Cordelia’s departure. He had needed his best friend. He had wanted to tell him so much, to figure it all out with him. To have Matthew hold him at times when he didn’t know if he could hold it up together and tell him, simply, that he believed in him. But Matthew hadn’t been in London. He had been in Paris. Happy. With Cordelia.

“And you accept it?” Matthew asked, carefully studying James.

“I guess it depends on what we are talking about. In any case,” James turned away from the fireplace to look at his friend. “why are you so against it if it makes Thomas happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because Alastair doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

“Maybe it is more about deserving a second chance rather than deserving of love. Maybe it is about getting a chance to fix your mistakes. Surely no one is worthless of that.”

“Sometimes the mistakes are too big to fix.” Matthew shrugged, breaking eye contact.

“Is that why you ran away?” The question was asked so softly as if asked any louder and James would be terrified to see Matthew run away again. James wasn’t sure he could bear it, no matter how much frustration towards Matthew he still felt.

“I didn’t run.” Matthew shook his head. His gaze far and distant as if in another land, in a shadow realm. “I took a train, there’s a difference. And I left because of Cordelia.”

James had an inkling he hadn’t left because of Cordelia but rather Cordelia had followed in a desperate pursuit to drown both of their sorrows in the glamour of a city like Paris. After all, Paris was so similar to Matthew, it was no wonder he had chosen it. At the surface, both were golden and shining like a polished jewel box. Once that jewel box was open, however, shadows, pain, and sadness would pour out like a damn breaking loose.

“I never thought you’d try to run away from me.” James knelt in front of Matthew, his knees landing on the soft midnight blue carpet. “That one day, I’d become a part of the shadows that you try to outrun.”

Matthew turned around so fast and reached for James’ face. His green eyes were darker than usual. “You’re not my shadows, Jamie Bach. You’re my home. You are the reason why I still believe I’m worth being forgiven for.” He said those words like a damned man dying for a confession, following blindly a faith he held so dear to his heart, hoping that that faith could be his saving grace. James understood that he had become that faith.

“Forgiven for what?” James asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“It’s me, Matthew. What is so bad that you cannot tell me?”

“I can’t tell you because I’m afraid. I need you to stay with me. I need you to believe that I am good, even if it means that you believe in a lie.”

“Matthew …”

“If you keep choosing me and believing in me,” Matthew interrupted. If he couldn’t finish now, he never would. “then maybe I can believe that I am no monster.”

“You are not a monster, you are my parabatai.”

James felt like they were back on that bridge, at night, so close to being let in in Matthew’s secrets. Back then James hadn’t been in control of himself, he hadn’t known what was happening to him. He had lost his chance. It would not happen again. It could not happen again. James was so tired of walking a frayed rope line with Matthew, guessing at hinted truths. Being someone’s constant north took work and time and effort but because it was Matthew, James could do it. He would always do it and he needed Matthew to know that as clearly as they both knew that one day would come when they would both cross the other side together. Because after all, that was what it had always been about. Despite shadows and lies and deceptions and miscommunication, they would always be together. So James continued.

“Do you know what that means? It means that I made a promise to you. I said entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. If aught but death part thee and me. I will not leave. No matter what you’ve done, I will stand by you, because that is the choice that I have made. That I still make. There is not a thing in this world that you could have done that would make me stop loving you, calon fy enaid.”

Matthew looked up at James and teased “Does that mean that you accept my feelings for Cordelia?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I must say, I don’t think I’m her type. It’s a pity, really.” Some strands of Matthew’s hair fell in his eyes as he shook his head. James could see the old Matthew again. The carefree one that balanced out his own shadows so well. The one he would choose and forgive a thousand times over because he too was his home.

“Matthew.”

“All right, all right.” Matthew threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I just … wish you could promise that I would not lose you.”

“I promise.”

“You can’t promise something you don’t know.” Matthew said before he started to talk about his own misbeliefs that had led to a terrible accident. James listened and did not judge and stayed long in the night after Matthew had said everything that had weighted so heavy on his heart for so long. And somewhere, under the warm light of oil lamps and next to a warm fire, the frayed rope between the two started to mend and James could only describe the feeling as one of coming home.

Tag List: @lady-ofroses @clockworknights @the-axewielding-herondale @tess-the-dreamer @coloandreablog

Do let me know if you want to be on the tag list and I’ll happily add you! (I have a tag list now visibly, wild and mind-blown) I will try to post more now that my exams are somewhat done. Who am I kidding? There will always be more stuff to do XD

#tlh fanfic #the last hours fanfiction #the last hours #tlh #coi spoilers #coi #chain of iron #chain of gold #chog #Matthew Fairchild #james herondale #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #cordelia carstairs #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #grace blackthorn #jordelia

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savrenim · 3 years

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i am running thru ur tumblr to find ONE POST to cite for tvtropes, and i agree so hard with the soulmate stuff. what if my soulmate is an awful abuser, i want the choice to NOT be with them without some painful physical consequence or loss of perception if i don't date them just because the universe said we were "meant to be"... plus if it's just a magic thing it "feels" more justified in-universe that soulmates exist and less like an ass pull so you could justify getting 2 characters together

oH gods this is something that I have SO many feelings about that probably is slightly informed by my own orientation and preferences, but. feelings. this got long so it's going under the cut

so there are three and a half major things that I have a problem with in terms of general soulmate tropes that are "there is one person who is your perfect romantic partner" (which to be fair I've seen a number of soulmate AUs do that trope with the addendum "although it only applies to a certain percentage of the population / not everyone has soulmates / everyone has soulmates but not everyone has SUPER PERFECT ROMANTIC soulmates" which at least somewhat avoids the statistic inevitability of abusive soulmates if combined with Fate Can See The Future And So Your Fated Soulmate Just Won't Be) and these complaints aren't even from the "I'm poly where's my poly rep" kind of place which is a whole 'nother bag of worms, but let's go:

1. I aggressively believe that love is a choice. Love is something that is built, not predetermined before you meet someone. There might be initial compatibility aspects going down when you first meet someone, but, like. statistically there are more than seven and a half billion people on this planet. If there is only a single person perfectly meant for you, again, statistically, you are not going to meet them, I've seen the figure thrown that on average a person will meet on the order 10,000 people in their lifetime but let's even go 100,000, you will meet 0.001% of the world's population. Unless you think some sort of divine coincidence or fate is guiding you to a soulmate which throws free will out the window and then I can't help you but, like. discarding the math, I think it is actively harmful to a relationship to believe that it can be sustained on chemistry or predetermined 'but we're perfect for each other' alone. It requires work. You choose who is in your life, you choose who stays in your life, you choose who you want to be important to you based on what they contribute to your life and what you contribute to theirs.

(I am assuming this ask is at least partially in reaction to my soulmate post, which actually the fic in question, a buried and a burning flame, has since gone up. I highly recommend reading Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard first, but besides the setup for arson wizards that alas is never used because the fire mage with a soulmate in question is Responsible, I decided to both tackle 'okay soulmarks trope too let's throw it in', which leads to the not-really-a-spoiler passage that appears fairly early on about actually the full layout (albeit with less detail on the 'yeah for mages it just helps ground their magic, nothing romantic about it' part) of my Soulmate Rules:

Soulmates existed, both in the Empire of Astandalas and across the Wide Seas. They just worked slightly differently in Vangavaye-ve than the rest of the worlds.

The rest of the Empire seemed to view soulmates as a monolith. From what Cliopher had been able to glean, the tradition was grounded in their magic. Magi had soulmates, or rather, magic-workers would each have a soulmate. Cliopher wasn't clear if all magic-workers had a soulmate, or if magic-workers simply could have one, but there was always a mage in soulmate pairs, and it was always a pair. There were no marks, no visible signs involved, as soulmates were something that were sensed with magic. They were permanent, intrinsic, and to be recognized immediately.

To Wide Sea Islanders, soulmates were a choice.

The soul-marks, lana and lani-voa, would appear the first time you touched someone that you had chosen to love, with the full knowledge that you loved them. Cliopher had the marks of his mother and father, his sisters, Basil and Dimiter, Bertie and Ghilly. His skin was covered lovingly with the colors of his love, marks that he had gotten used to concealing with long sleeves in Astandalas when he had gotten tired of the constant staring at his 'primitive tattoos'.

Buru Tovo had been the only one to give him lani-voa, a greater mark of the soul. The pattern, with its thick lines and twisting design in a deep blue, extended over the entirety of his left arm and shoulder. They were the dances of his family pressed onto his skin, and he had traced them over with reverent and feather-light touch for months after he had received them. A lani-voa marked someone who had changed your life for the better in a deep and irrevocable way. It was a great honor to have even one.

And now, with the gold stretching up his right arm, new patterns that he didn't recognize stretching up from a handprint of pure gold that was expanding the longer he held that first contact with Tor—

now he had two.

(Buru Tovo is Cliopher's great uncle, for context. In fact, everyone listed there is either a familial or platonic relationship, with a single relationship that used to be romantic but settled into platonic.))

so. yeah. Love is a choice! The Biggest Of Moods! any soulmate lore that undermines that is a Bad Message, in my opinion.

The emphasis also on platonic soulmates leads into my second point:

2. I have found in my life that platonic relationships that I have are and have always been as important if not moreso than the romantic relationships. the emphasis of a single romantic relationship as the most important relationship that you can be in maybe fits for some people, but as a generalization to absolutely everyone I think is toxic and harmful. and not just for aro people! I'm not aro, but I would be miserable to write off my friends as Less Important And Meaningful to me than my parter, whom I love with all my heart! (I've actually ended up in my life settling into what I call the red/blue/gold system for 'relationships that I treat with the importance that society treats romantic relationships', but that's a personal thing). The standard soulmate trope tends to really solidly deliver the thesis of "there is a single romantic relationship that is the single most important relationship in your life" and I just think that's a very bad thesis.

3. Finally, I think the emphasis on permanent/forever is a harmful one for relationships in general. People change. you drift closer to people or further away from them. you move, they move, your schedules change, your interests change, your life changes. if you are living with a romantic partner you're going to keep seeing each other every day, but that doesn't stop you from changing as a person, which means see Point 1 Love Is A Choice; but even if you choose to remain together, you are probably eventually going to Ship Of Theseus your entire relationship. I think it is an important message that if that happens and it is no longer a relationship that is as deeply positive as it once was in your life, you don't...have to keep it out of loyalty to what it once was.

It's okay for people to drift out of your life that were once the most important person in your life. It doesn't invalidate how important and meaningful that relationship used to be, and it isn't a betrayal to let yourself and them and your relationships change and evolve. The idea that something has to be forever for it to matter I think is the idea about soulmates that I disagree with the most. Probably because that was the hardest lesson for me to learn as a kid and a teenager, and the life lesson that I am proudest for learning.

3.5 your point 'plus if it's just a magic thing it "feels" more justified in-universe that soulmates exist' is exactly on the nose, literally I am unable to write anything without attempting to write down a universal theory of everything for How The World Works. if something soulmate-wise is going down even if it never appears on the page you bet your ass I have either figured out the general cosmology and theology of "are there gods or divine forces who have instituted this policy? if so, why? what purpose does it serve", or in the case of abaabf which already has such interesting magic rules in the original canon of "is there an evolutionary reason for soulmates to exist" which I don't go tracing out full evolutionary biology for a fic necessarily mostly because I would want the full evolutionary biology in canon to make sure mine is compliant enough but that sure as hell does translate to "if soulmates exist and it's not for the reason of Because Godlike Beings Said So, there better be a practical purpose". I find at least long-form soulmate fics (ie things With Plot and a Developed Setting that aren't just "let's do a ficlet with this well-known trope") that Do Not Feel Like They've At Least Thought About Why Soulmates Happen To Exist hurt my soul. which I think slightly intersects with my "I hate it when the rules of the universe/ laws of physics are human-centric" instead of "the base rules which were not designed for humans came first, and how the human world works arose in reaction to them" and. yeah. consistent desire to know at least for myself why things are set up the way that they're set up which gods ifmlam is wild and completely bullshit and pulls from quantum multiverse philosophy I started writing that thing when I was like. eighteen? nineteen? but at least it's there so I can be consistent.

as a caveat for everything above: I don't actually think that fiction, fanfiction in particular, needs to perfectly reflect what A Good Relationship or A Good Message About Relationships should be. it is a very human desire in a chaotic and confusing world to want a simple, absolute, binary thing to hold onto. fiction is a place for escapism or wish fulfillment or even exploring things that you wouldn't actually want in real life, I think that the movement in fandom/fiction that all of the messaging in your story should match the advice you'd give for a real-life setup is a bad and harmful one. mostly my opinions on soulmates and hence desire to do inversions of the soulmate trope in my fic and things like the red/blue/gold system and heavy emphasis on platonic relationships in original work that I'm writing is about a desire to see representation for me and the things I love and find important and my sort of relationships in the stories that are a big part of my life. but I am really glad that in doing so I seem to have struck a chord in other people, who maybe want to see the same thing!

#my life #my writing #abaabf #soulmates #also what post are you looking for/ what is its general topic if you haven't found it #I might remember a few keywords and be able to help you search

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imagination-is-key-in-my-world · 4 years

Text

Trauma

Authors Note: I mixed in parts of the book series for the fun of it. I hope you like it!

Request: Could you possibly write a Jace x Reader fanfiction where the reader has been through some trauma and gets triggered when making out with Jace?

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jace were together for quite sometime before Clary came onto the scene. It had broken Y/N beyond relief when Jace had ended the relationship upon meeting this girl. Her whole world is then turned upside down when Clary destroyed the boat and possibly her entire life.

Warnings: Swearing, some references to incestuous behaviour and physical and mental triggers.

Word Count: 6,092

I was on the boat that day. The day where something suspicious happened with Clary and Jace while they were talking with Valentine. None of us Shadowhunters really know the true extent of what happened to shake up our entire world during that battle. No one other than those who were down in the bunker with Valentine.

It is not like I was meant to be there, on that boat. The morning of the battle, Jace had come to my room at the institute and was practically on his knees begging me not to attend. He knew something bad was going to go down and at that precise moment, I put it all down to the thought that possibly he was trying to protect me from getting caught in the crossfire. But there was something there, something unnerving niggling behind his eyes.

I had seen that look once before. The night that we broke up, when he swore to me that he had no feelings for Clary. Since that day we had remained civil to one another but things were not quite the same between us. I loved the boy but he had forgotten all about me now that he had his sister on the scene. Which is why it was so confusing when he came to my room that night to convince me to stay away from the battle. He pulled out all the stops, he even called me by the nickname he gave me when we were together, ‘Darling.’

Just like the day that I first heard the nickname, I was putty in his hands. He could manipulate me that well with one word. The worst part was, I knew it. I knew I was a pawn and yet I almost fell for it yet again. Almost.

That night I had waited until Jace and Clary had left to go and see Valentine on the ship. The inquisitor was busy talking to Maryse about what to expect tonight, which meant that I had a couple minutes to find Alec and convince him to let me join them. Everyone knew that Alec had a soft spot for me, I was like his baby sister. Isabelle was stricter with me, she always prevented me from going on the hunts mainly because she was terrified that I would either get myself hurt or her. She was not as convinced of my abilities as Alec were.

“Alec, please!” I pleaded as he tugged at the bow that was sliding down my shoulder. “Something is going on with Jace and there is a reason he is trying to keep me away tonight!” Just like me, Alec knew what Jace was really like.

“I can’t just defy the inquisitor and give her another body to protect.” The way that he said body made me shake with a small sense of irritation.

“Hey!” Smacking his shoulder with the back of my hand. “I am not just a body! I can protect myself and you know that.”

It took longer than I had imagined to get Alec on side but all my best efforts and manipulation techniques that I had picked up along the way worked a saint. “You better not make me wish I handcuffed you to the bed.” Alec huffed as he handed me back my weapon of choice with a wide range of arrows to complete the deadly device.

***

“Save those kinky thoughts for Magnus.” Quickly I pushed myself up onto the tips of my toes to place a soft peck on his cheek. Something I had picked up along the way while growing up with Alec. It was the kindest thing I could do after all the manipulation I had done over the years.

I had not realised how bad the battle was going to be until I was there. Dozens of Shadowhunters were slaughtered by the demons that Valentine had summoned using the Mortal Instruments. It was possibly the most haunting thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I had witnessed my friends and family die for one another while Valentine’s demons did not give a rat’s ass. They were truly monsters of Valentine’s own creation.

“Try and find Jace, Y/N!” Alec shouted over the grunts and groans on the top level of the boat. “We need to get out of here before anyone else dies! Be-” Before Alec could finish talking, he was thrown across the deck by one of the larger demons.

“Alec!” I screamed as I could no longer see him. Tears filled my eyes when I did not receive a response from him.

“Y/N do what he said. Go find the others. I will stay with him.” Isabelle was shaking my shoulder trying to get me to move from my frozen state. “Hurry!”

I finally register and begin running for cover. There were bodies everywhere, some that I recognised and some who I had never seen before. However, that did not make me feel any less queasy than I did within that moment looking down on their lifeless bodies.

Across from me, I could see a doorway that must have led downstairs where Alec had just told me to search. Sucking in a long painful breath from the smoke above deck, I ducked my head in and began to calmly run towards the murmurs that I could hear down the other end of the ship.

“Jace, Clary, I am your father, your own flesh and blood. How could you think these dark things of me?” Valentine failed sincerity with every word that he spoke. “You should love me the way that you too love each other.”

There was a dark look in Valentine’s eyes. One of utter disgust and almost a niggle of amusement. “Although, the way that you two love one another is impure, isn’t it my children?” Valentine watched and so did I as his eyes flicked between Jace and Clary.

I should help them. Try and get them out of there alive. But what I was hearing was the one thing I felt that I needed to hear from the day that we found Clary at that club. “Any father’s dream is for his children to be full of love for the other. But I think that you two take the cake for the most devoted brother and sister that I have ever seen.”

“Shut up, Valentine!” Clary screamed as she brandished her weapon from her jeans pocket.

Clearly amused by the whole debacle, Valentine continued to torment his children as I stood by in the shadows. “It is true, isn’t it Jace. You love little Clarissa in a deeply tainted way. What would the Clave think of that?” He taunted further. “You even broke up with that feisty teen from the institute just so that you could sneak around with your sister when all the doors were closed.”

I saw that look in Jace’s eyes. The same look he gave me when I asked if there was something between the pair of them. Defeat. “Stop talking, Valentine.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I quite liked that, Y/N. She was spunky, wait what was the word I used before. Ah yes feisty. Your mother was feisty. A good quality for a successful Shadowhunter to have.” Valentine perched on the edge of a table as he continued to peruse the annoyance and irritation on his children’s faces.

“Admit your true feelings and I will let you go.” Valentine raised his hands as if he were offering a simple transaction and not one that was completely demoralising for everyone who took part. “Lie to me and I will send my demons to tear your sister apart limb from limb.”

“She is your daughter; you would not do that.” Jace screamed at his father grasping fiercely onto his Seraph blade.

Valentine sighed and all I could do was stand there and wait for the admission that I asked for months ago and failed to receive. “You are my son, and she is my daughter. But right now, both of you are in my way so do as I say or you will all die.”

Clary ran across to Jace and pulled him in for a hug. My stomach ached harder. She did the one thing that I feared. She locked her lips on top of his. That was all the confirmation that I needed before my legs gave way and I plummeted to the floor letting out a soft but vocal yelp.

All the eyes in that room darted towards my hiding place. At least my yelp had separated Jace and Clary from their make out session. It all happened so quickly. Within seconds, Valentine had grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into the room with the two incestuous love birds.

Pulling back my hair to force me to stare at the boy I had loved for years clutching the girl he only knew for a matter of months and yet somehow loved her more. “What do we have here?” Valentine mocked as he knew the agonising pain that was now soaring throughout my body. Both physical and mental.

Jace leaned towards me. For a second, I thought that he was fighting to reach me, to save me even, but then he pulled back and stood alongside Clary with what was almost regret in his eyes. Almost. “Now don’t you think that little Y/N would like a front row show of what she had just missed?” Valentine taunted digging his blade into the side of my ribs.

“Don’t hurt her!” Jace spoke through his gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare hurt her.” On the word ‘dare’ Jace’s voice broke, I could hear the pain within his voice. But it was too late. He might care for me, but not like he cared for her.

Clary had out her mother’s stele and she was leaning against the wooden floor. Valentine was too busy marvelling in the chaos that he had caused to give his daughter the slightest bit of attention.

Jace’s eyes found mine and locked onto them. I could barely see him through the tears that were pooling in my eyes. It was over. He loved her, and I was nothing more than a memory to him. She was his present, and what might be his future.

“Open!” Clary screamed which was all I heard before the whole boat began to disintegrate into shards of wood. From what I can remember from that night, I was thrown out of Valentine’s grasp where I hit a rock-hard iron anchor. The pain that I experienced was excruciating, although the mental pain was almost as strong. I have lost him.

There was a loud crash and a boisterous cry from Jace as that giant anchor dislodged itself from the wall and landed on top of me. “Y/N!” His voice was getting quieter while the world began to get darker.

***

That was all I could remember from that day on the boat. Clary had done something to literally break apart the chaos that was forming both up and below board and yet I was the one who ended up in the infirmary for 2 months. I sustained major injuries and a few minor ones that were quickly healed with runes. But for the most of it, I was locked to that bed just like Alec had promised. Completely and utterly bed ridden.

I am not going to lie, I had visitors now and then. Although, for the most part of it, I was desperately alone. I had not seen Jace since that night. Alec showed up every day. He was my one constant that wasn’t just the drugs and horrible food I was receiving. Isabelle would pop by to gossip about how Alec and Magnus were becoming official even though their parents were not thrilled by the idea initially.

All those days cooped up there and I had not seen Jace. The one person I may have been delighted to see 2 months ago, but now I was not too sure that he was.

“Guess what?” Alec quizzed me behind his book that was positioned just below his chin. He had made his very own home from home set up in the corner of the infirmary. “I am not going to continue until you say, ‘Oh my gosh Alec tell me, tell me, tell me!’” He feigned a girly voice as if to impersonate myself. Picking up one of the cushions from the side of the bed, I threw it directly at his face. “Hey! I come here every day to help bring you joy and this is how you repay me? A cushion to the face?”

I laughed. I could always depend on Alec. He truly was my best friend here at the institute. Some days it even feels as though he is my only friend that I have here. “One, I do not talk like that; two, you are a jerk; and three, oh my gosh tell me!” I lived up to the fake voice that Alec had prescribed me.

Holding his hands up in defeat, “Okay I will tell you! Did you know that Clary and Simon broke up?”

“Why would I know that, Alec. You and Isabelle are the only people I see and this is the first that I am hearing this.” You pause and sigh. Simon was supposed to be keeping Clary away from Jace, and now he has basically opened the door for them to be together as they clearly do not care about the brother/sister relationship that they have.

“Alec? I am feeling a little tired. Do you mind if I get some sleep?” This was always the excuse that I used for Alec to leave, which he did even if he did linger slightly longer than he would have done.

“Alright. Love you peanut.” He kissed my forehead and stroked back my hair the way a brother would do for his sister. Everyone knew that if Alec had tried to do this to Isabelle, she would have snapped his wrist for being soppy.

I cried for a couple of hours after Alec had left. No matter how mean it was of me, I wanted Clary to stay away from Jace. Every time that I saw them together after we broke up, it broke me more and more.

***

While I sleep, I cannot prevent my mind from going places that I did not want it to. I could hear Jace’s voice clear as day. There was a sadness to his voice. Almost as if he were fighting back the urge to cry. “I have been such a dick, Y/N. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

In my dream he was holding my hand and squeezing it tightly. It felt so real almost as if Jace was really in the room with me holding onto my hand and speaking directly to me.

I turned my head slowly and let my eyes flutter open. “Jace?” My voice cracked as my body began to wake up.

His head was facing down when I first saw him but as soon as I spoke, he shot up and turned his head away from me. Lifting his hands up to his own face and then quickly replacing them to his hips. “Sorry, um.” He coughed still avoiding any form of eye contact with me. “I thought you were asleep. I will go. Sorry again.”

“Jace?” I whispered.

His head turned to face me and that was when his eyes locked onto mine. Even with his badass and fearless exterior, something flipped inside of that blonde-haired assassin. Those tears that I could hear in his voice that I thought were from my dream, suddenly appeared in his eyes.

I had not seen Jace cry in a long time. It was my kryptonite. Every time that I had seen Jace cry growing up, I always folded and any disagreement we were having would become irrelevant as I hated seeing the boy become so broken.

He stood there; his eyes locked onto mine as his tears ran down his face. “This is my fault. This is all my fault. You were hurt because of me.” His voice cracked in places and it shook over every word. I wanted to hold him and to tell him it was okay, but I always wanted to scream at him and to show him how much he had hurt me.

When I did not move or say anything he reached for my hand and pulled it up to his chest. “I miss you Y/N and I hate seeing you this way. Seeing you hate me.”

“If you missed me, where have you been for the past 2 months?” I cried letting my own tears fall from my eyes. “If you really missed me, you would have come to see me every day like Alec.”

Jace fell to his knees but kept hold of my hand. “I was here every day.” He whispered back. “I couldn’t face you hating me or possibly turning me away so I only came here when you were sleeping. I was here every day and every night while you were in the coma for the first month. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Jace, you hurt me.” I squeaked. “More than that anchor did.”

“I know. I am sorry, really, I am. One day I hope that you can forgive me.” There was something else though. Something he was not telling me; I could feel it.

“Jace, what is going on?” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. It was getting more and more painful with every beat and breathing was becoming more difficult.

“Clary and I. We are not actually related. Valentine lied; he is not my father.” Fear washed over me. Without Simon in the way and now without the brother and sister barrier in the way, Jace was free to be with her. They were probably together now and this was his way to break it to me. My mind started going into overdrive. Thoughts kept entering my head with same speed that my heart belted in my chest.

“Y/N?” Jace screamed as my whole body started to shake. Then similarly to the boat fiasco, everything went black.

***

“What happened!” I could hear all the voices in the room but I could not see anyone.

“I told her that Clary and I aren’t related.” Jace’s voice was shaky, panic was clearly rushing throughout his body.

“You did tell her everything though?” Alec’s voice was booming in my ears as his protective brotherly mode was now engaged.

“I couldn’t quite tell her everything, once I told her the first thing this started to happen.”

“You have to tell her Jace! She fucking loves you, can’t you see that!” Isabelle chimed in. Glad to know that I was not subtle enough to slide past Izzy.

“I know! I am doing my best okay.” Jace barked.

“Magnus can you fix her?” Isabelle asked as she was clearly barking orders again at her brother’s boyfriend.

“I can but I will need some space. Y/N’s body has not fully recovered from the damage that she sustained on the boat. It appears that when an intense heart rate is inflicted her body begins to fail. I can help her with this one and do my best to fix the damage, but I cannot be sure that it will minimise the risks of this happening again. It is going to be a complicated spell, and even then magic may not even be her best option.”

“Magnus please.” Jace pleaded. “Do whatever you need to. I will do anything. I cannot lose her.”

***

I woke up to Alec’s head leaning on my shoulder. At some point after Magnus worked his magic, Alec had worked his way into my bed. Instead of waking up in the infirmary, I woke up in the comfortable and familiar surroundings that were my bedroom. Alec was snoring away on my shoulder but it was comforting to have him here with me.

I wiggled around in my bed to find Jace protectively watching over me from his armchair that he branded his spot in my room. There were dark circles under his eyes. I could tell that he had been awake for a long time which only made me more nervous as to how long I was out for. “Jace? What happened?”

It took Jace only a second to register that I was awake and looking right at him. “Hey, shh.” He said softly as he tried to avoid waking up Alec beside me. “Are you okay?” I nodded but it hurt a little to do so. Everything in my head was buzzing since the moment that I woke up. “I need to tell you something.”

My mind flashed back to the conversation that I was able to pick up once I had passed out. Although, I was sort of hoping that I had imagined it. “Before you got sick, I was about to tell you something.” I did not want to hear it. Jace’s face was serious, he was rubbing his chest as if he had indigestion or was having some sort of irritation from his t-shirt. “I cannot help but blame myself for you getting sick earlier. The thing is, I want you to know that Clary and I are not together.” He let his hand fall from his chest so that he could fiddle with his ring. “I knew it was not the right thing to do. We got into a massive fight when she said she wanted me to move away with her. I could not leave you. When you were in that coma, all I could think about was how much I wanted you to be okay. You were on my mind constantly. After the fight, I told her I did not want to be with her so she decided to move to Idris with Luke.”

I did not know what to say. That was a lot of information to take in all at once. “I want you to know that what you did on the boat, coming when I asked you not to. You put the fear of god into me. When I saw that anchor come down on you, I thought I lost you. I ran over to you but it had already done it’s damage.” He began to tear up as he wiped a stray bit of hair away from my eyes.

“I carried you out of there like a rag doll in my arms. I did not even know if you were alive and I had never experience anything as painful as that in my whole life. Y/N I was a wreck, you were the only thing that I cared about when that boat came apart. I realised then that you are the only thing on this god forsaken earth that I give two shits about and I thought I had lost you.” A tear dropped onto my arm as he no longer fought back the tears.

“What about Clary, I thought you loved her?” I questioned as the tears ran down my face. “What about her, Jace?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t love Clary. At the time I thought I did, but it has always been you. I love you Y/N, you are my person.” My heart melted as these were the words that I wanted to hear from the minute that I laid eyes of Jace Wayland. “If you would let me, I would like to show you that I can be the man you want me to be. If you give me the chance, I can be the type of boyfriend you want me to be.”

Of course, I love Jace. I always have. The tears soaked through the collar of his shirt which did help his cause. “Jace, that has all I have ever wanted. But you broke my heart when you ended things, how can I be sure you won’t do it again?” Throughout the whole conversation and sobbing, Alec nevertheless laid perfectly still while letting his snores reach new volumes.

“I won’t.” Jace’s beautiful eyes searched mine, “I will not do anything to hurt you ever again. I promise. Please Y/N, I need you.” Jace Wayland the mighty Shadowhunter was showing his true feelings and how could I turn him away after that. He laid one hand on my chest and the other on his own, “I love you.”

“I love you too Jace.” Jace picked himself up from kneeling beside my bed and led alongside me in the bed. His arms draped around my body as he pulled me into his chest. I have never felt as safe as I did in that moment.

***

I woke up during the night to find that Alec was no longer beside me. However, Jace was still cuddled up against me with his arm protectively placed over my hips. I turned to face him, my nose now up against his. “Training starts in an hour, Jace.” I whisper to him.

His body began to stir as he registered my words. Instead of opening his eyes and trying to get out of the bed, Jace grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. “No, I want to stay here.” He grumbled, nestling his head into the crook of my neck. “Plus, you will just end up kicking my ass if we go down to the combat room.”

I push him away slightly as I begin to get excited to get back into training. Magnus had told Jace that if I felt well enough, I could start training again today. The only downside was that I prohibited to go out in the field for possibly a long time yet. I am already out of bed and in the bathroom before Jace can even notice that I am no longer beside him.

“Jace come on, I need to get back into this. I have done nothing for a whole two months. I think my legs are starting to seize up from being led down all the time.” Another grumble from the bedroom. I pick up my toothbrush and begin to brush my teeth. I gazed up at the mirror to stare back at my reflection. I had not seen my own face in days, I had dark circles under my eyes regardless of the amount of sleep that I was getting.

However, that was not what caught my eyes the most. It was the mark on my chest that made me stop dead. The toothbrush that I was once holding was now lying in the sink as I leaned in closer to the mirror to examine the scar. On my chest there was a long pink scar residing between my breasts. I knew for a fact that it was not there before the accident.

“Everything okay in there?” Jace called from the bathroom after possibly hearing the toothbrush hit the porcelain. I quickly discard my clothes and jump into the shower before Jace could see me or the scar. I turned on the water and let my mind go crazy. ‘Where was it from? How did I get it? It is so fucking ugly! I can not let Jace see it, what would he think?’ I push the thoughts away as I grab the towel from the side.

Jace appeared in the doorway as I stepped out of the shower with the towel already draped around my body. His moth was left open when his eyes searched my body. I tried my best to keep the mark covered with the towel. My cheeks began to flush and I was suddenly aware that I was naked underneath the towel. “You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N.” He declared as he decreased the gap between us both.

Jace’s hands rested on my hips while his eyes locked onto mine to ensure that his actions were okay. They were. His head began to drop closer to mine and once again that morning, our noses were touching.

My head jerked back when there was a knock on the door. Alec stood in the doorway holding his seraph blade in one hand and his bow over his shoulder. “Are you coming or what Peanut?” He shouted into my room.

I wave to him and tell him that I just need to change and I will be right out. I know he saw what was happening or what was about to happen and I could not be 100% sure, but I think that he had a slight glint of a smile creeping on his lips.

I turn back to Jace to see that he is disappointed. “When we come back can I have that kiss?” He asked me. I could not help but smile in response.

***

Training was my favourite part of the day. The only problem was how competitive everyone got. Jace was the worst. But today it felt as though he was going a little too easy on me and I was unsure as to why.

I pulled him aside after the third spar that we had where he clearly let me win too easily. “Jace what is going on?”

“What do you mean what is going on?” Jace was a terrible liar and he knew that I knew it. “Fine, it is quite embarrassing okay.” I raise an eyebrow as he continues to talk his way out of this one. “I keep thinking back to this morning and I, well it is quite uncomfortable to fight you when I am having to fight something else forming downstairs.”

My eyes gaze down his body and I finally twig at what he was trying to decipher to me without everyone else in the room hearing about his dilemma. “It doesn’t help that you are wearing an extremely short pair of shorts that is making your arse look desirable?”

I laugh a little at seeing him at his weakest during training. “It isn’t funny okay?”

I stop laughing when I saw that Alec had caught us no longer completing our training during our allotted time in the combat room. “Come on Alec will get annoyed if we don’t try and use this time wisely.”

Jace picked up his blade and held it out to you. “Go easy on me, would you?”

***

“Well you didn’t exactly go easy on me, did you?” Jace whined as he pulled his sweaty shirt off and threw it into his hamper. “If I knew any better, I would think that you knew exactly how to manipulate the situation.” He kept his back to me as he through on another clean shirt from his drawer. It was my favourite light blue shirt that he only ever wore around me when we first got together.

“Consider yourself lucky.” I protest as I discard my boots in the corner of his room. “At least I let you win once. That was generous of me.” I scrunch up my nose, the way I know he likes. Apparently, it makes me look all cute and innocent. When we first met, Jace told me that when I smile, I scrunch up my nose. He found it adorable and I caught his attention from an early age.

I felt the light touch of his hands slide around my stomach and laid delicately on top of my skin. His head rested on my shoulder. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispered into my ear. I do not think that I will ever get used to hearing him say those words to me. I turned around in his arms and hooked my own around his neck. Just like that morning, his head started to close the distance between our faces.

The feeling I got when his lips touched mine was almost as if someone had put the whole world on pause. We were the only two people in the entire universe within that moment. Do not get me wrong, Jace and I have kissed before. But this time it felt different. When our lips met I felt as though my heart was finally whole again. My whole body ached to be close to him.

It was not long before the kisses became more heated. I felt Jace’s hands become firmer on my hips as if he were holding me desperately close to him. Did he feel the exact same need that I did? I folded up in his arms and allowed him to direct me over to the bed where he gently laid me down onto the mattress without breaking the kiss once.

Between every other breathless kiss, he broke away to moan the words ‘I love you’ repeatedly as if he were trying to convince himself that this was happening. His hand locked onto the side of my face where he began to caress my cheek and his lips connected and disconnected with my own. While his other hand held onto both of my own above my head.

Jace’s kisses were smooth and tender and they were the one thing that I wanted more than anything in this entire world. His lips started to relocate down my chin and onto my neck. His sweet lips sucked at the skin just below my jaw which made my breath get caught in my throat. My heart was beating rapidly as I could not believe that Jace and I were finally in a place where this was possible.

It was not until his lips reached my chest where I started to panic. My mind flashed back to the discovery that I made that morning before the shower. My head started pounding as my heart rate started to beat faster than I thought was possible.

“Stop!” I cried as I attempted to push Jace off me. I clutched my shirt together and brought my knees up to my chest. My breathing was rapid and the world started to blur again.

Jace rushed over to my side and held onto my arms. “Breathe Y/N. Slowly, come on you can do it, copy me okay?” I watched as he tried to guide me through each breath. “Good, now slowly drop your legs for me. It will make it easier.” I did as he said and continued to mimic the breathing techniques that he was demonstrating to me.

After 5 minutes I managed to get my breathing back down and my heartbeat back to a regular rhythm. Jace was sat down beside me holding onto my right hand. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked calmly.

At first, I thought about lying to him, hiding the truth from him. But I could not do it. “I have a scar.” I manage to squeak. It sounds stupid but it really was hard for me to say. “I have a scar on my chest and I didn’t want you to see it because you might think that I am ugly.”

Jace squeezed onto my hand and pulled me into his chest to comfort me. “Don’t be silly. I think that you are beautiful and nothing is going to change that.” He moved from my side to kneel on the floor between my knees. “Will you show me?”

He raised his hands up to where I was holding my hand over the exposed area. Slowly and gently he guided my hand away from my chest. When he saw the scar, his expression did not change. Almost as if he had seen it before. His thumb stroked over the scarred tissue of skin. Tracing the line from the beginning to the end. “See it is disgusting.” I whimpered at his touch.

He slowly shook his head and placed his hand over the top of it. “No, this is a constant reminder that I can never hurt you ever again. Your heart is now protected.”

I let him hold me tight as I cried. “My heart is yours.” I sobbed into his arms.

“And so is mine.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. I never really knew how true that was until I saw that Jace had the same scar on his chest. When Jace told Magnus that he would do anything, he really did mean it. I owned half of his heart. “I told you Y/N, you are my person.” His lips connected sweetly with my forehead as he held me closer to him.

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ae0nx · 3 years

Text

FRUITS BASKET S3 EPISODE 1 + 2 RECAP!

Yayyy! Season 3! Finally! I’m hoping this season will make me understand/sympathise with Akito and maybe even Shigure a little bit more because... honestly? My opinions on episode 2?... I might get some flack for my opinions on them... 😬

But, first: I’d like to appreciate how on the Funimation app we got a little interview/message from a few of the english dub VAs! Specifically Colleen Clinkenbeard, Jerry Jewell, Eric Vale, Ian Sinclair and Brina Palencia (Akito, Kyo, Yuki, Kureno and Isuzu). And it was nice seeing some of their opinions of the characters they play and how much they’re emotionally invested in the story. (Ian’s such a nerd ‘I wanna see giant mechs later this season’ 😂 - I lowkey stan him lol)

You should definitely check it out if you’re interested in what they would have to say!

ANYWAYS, let’s get into it...

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EPISODE 1

I really love this depiction of the original zodiac and how you can just tell from the tone of the scene how desperately the God of the Zodiac was clinging on to these connections that they had with the participants in the banquet. How much they clung on to and loved the cat... Also, interesting how Tohru’s narrating this scene... almost like she can relate to the desperation of wanting to keep things the same... but we’ll get to that later. But also, Tohru is a God

This new opening is beautiful, I love the way that camera moves around the still illustrations and how the general tone just hammers down that... this season is gonna be some real shit lol (which makes me nervous for the opening for the second half 😳). It’s so warped and the general blue, grey and black tone that follows around every Akito scene we get in the anime has bled into every scene in this opening concerning the rest of the zodiac. Almost... like something is decaying. It’s great, it’s just very sad lol. I love the song tho, issa bop.

One of my favourite things in stories is when we get a bigger villain than the ‘pronounced’ villain of the story. Ren’s introduction through a manicured outstretched hand towards Kureno and Hatori is so weirdly gross in what it insinuates (especially when you apply her connection with Shigure) but again... I wanna know why she’s such an asshole to Akito specifically besides the bad mental health management within the Sohma compound. I have an inkling of what it is through memory of the manga, but like Akito and Shigure... I just wanna understand why.

Also, Ren is gorgeous and I’m sorry for simping.

I mean... she’s kinda got a point? She just didn’t need to be so mean about it lol. It’s pretty clear that the connection the zodiac have to each other is real and something they cannot control. BUT, wouldn’t it be easier if this connection wasn’t perpetuated by outer circles of the family and if Akito herself wasn’t so cruel about it? But, I guess Akito - through her relationship with her mother - kinda doesn’t know how to genuinely show love and affection. (Which brings me into my thoughts of how the manga ends and how I kinda... have a few problems with it which I will get to... when that comes lol)

Lol - weeeeeeeee! (flashes back to Tohru being yeeted into the river). Is this a part of Akito’s god-like powers?!

Again. She’s got a point! They’ve both got a point. But, they’re both the source of the problem. It’s really painful to see two mentally ill people duke it out. This whole institution is just rotten.

- I am super curious about what Akira’s relationship was like with the zodiac and if it was just as dark. I’m gonna assume it slightly already was, as the exclusion and degradation of the cat curse is already dark in itself but maybe the rest of the zodiac were just fine with how things were? I dunno if we actually will get the full backstory of Akira and his zodiac but I’m definitely intrigued

Ok, but if four crying children came up to me after I’d just consummated with my partner to reach out at my stomach chanting ‘we’ve been waiting for you’. That would disturb me and scar me for a while too so... 😂. I know it’s supposed to be ethereal and spiritual but... dude, wtf lol

...I don’t like how much I’m into Ren being such a Villain™ 😅

- Akito being seen as a crying child by the older zodiac members has always been interesting to me because yes, they could see her as that through mainly the age gap, general empathy and the way she sometimes irrationally acts out. But, also the depiction of Gods being seen as children having tantrums has being reflected in many different beliefs and myths (especially Greek Mythology) and I just like the fact that this all powerful, all knowing being would be compared to a child. It gives you a different perspective on power.

- Is the paper note in the CD case that Kureno gave back to Tohru an extra addition or was it always there?...

Mannnn... I really wanted Isuzu to fuck shit up after seeing Tohru so upset but... *le sigh* (outfit’s still on point)

But, I’m so glad we get an equal Ethereal Goddess to save Tohru! HANAJIMA! We love her, we stan her. <3

- ‘Tohru will be in my custody’ 🤣 I personally think Hana’s bluntness was a kindness in her conversation with Yuki because if I found Tohru upset? I’d automatically start firing metaphorical shots at everyone in that house

- Shigure fearing Hana makes me sleep better at night <3

Hana’s just like ‘hmm... sounds like someone I know... 👀’ I’m here for this parallel between Tohru and Kureno in the hopes that Tohru doesn’t ever get in as bad a situation as Kureno. Ahhh... Kureno... (Also, Laura Bailey was killing it in this scene as always)

- Hmmm... there’s something terribly poetic about Kyo saving Tohru’s scarf from oncoming traffic... but also, Kyo can’t help himself aha

KWEEEN! I love this look for Uo, it’s very Kyoko. I already said this in Season 1 but I STILL need to get wool-lined jacket. Outfit Appreciation goes to her - 3.5 stars.

<3<3<3 Friendship is magic!

- Megumi is such a good egg as always! From him going to get Uo to him being so wise with his outlook on love and how it takes time to really flourish. The best!

- This whole episode ends really nicely from Tohru’s return home and Kyo washing and returning Tohru’s scarf and Yuki being happy to see Tohru and Shigure being somewhat decent. It was nice to get a bit of relief after the tornado of emotions

Also, this was a nice screencap! Even Kyo is smiling!!! :))))

EPISODE 2

*takes sip of wine* ...ok.

👀... later lol

This scene really highlighted how Tohru is starting to see Shigure and the whole zodiac curse in a new and darker way. For the first time, it felt like Tohru was a little bit more guarded around Shigure and I hope they delve more into this season. Her description of her feeling around the curse being like a ‘dark well with no bottom in sight’ is pretty spot on. Ugh.

Aw! Is this the last we’re getting of Small!Momiji?! I love them :3 (Momiji’s shorts look a little shorter too, like he’s growing out of them ahaha)

- I haven’t found the Yuki fan club funny since their first scene in the anime but their poor disguises made me chuckle

- Yayyy! Kyo has an obsessive fan club too? ...Yay?? 😅 haha

- ‘I won’t kill them but they can go to hell’ why is Kyo speaking like me?! 😂

The fact that we got a scene of Yuki kinda admirably looking at a group of friends (boys and girls) playfully physically interacting and he unconsciously reaches out to Machi almost like he forgot about the curse? Heart eyes... 🥰

Again. Relatable. 😂 God, Yuki. You really are an airhead. Bless your soul. <3

And that look says it all. Damn. Kyo’s sense of hopelessness is heartbreaking but I still stand by it being understandable considering his circumstances.

Kyo freaking out about Tohru being visually upset was super cute but I couldn’t even appreciate the fluff because the whole scene had such a morbid tone to it, despite it being so visually romantic:

KYO’S FACE!!! 💔 Ahhh, my emotions!!!! Also, that shot from Tohru’s perspective under her bangs is great.

- Poor Mitsuru, I’d ask for extra pay just for dealing with Shigure’s ass.

Hahah - what a great metaphor!

- Now that Shigure’s ‘true form’, so to speak, has been fully exposed all his comments that are supposed to be teasing come off so much more awful. Him insinuating Mitsuru wasn’t ‘upper class’ enough for Ritsu was awful

COLLLDDDD. AS. IIIIIIICE. But seriously, Shigure this whole episode was cold in many different ways but I definitely felt this personally since I’ve been told something like this by a family member before... 😕 Also, it’s just gross how both Shigure and Akito are taking their own personal issues and mistrust of each other out on to other people. The curse and the institution behind the curse complicates a lot of feelings for sure, but there’s a difference between wrong and right and I get the general feeling that they both are just using the muddy waters to their advantage. Although, I feel like Shigure is taking more advantage of this than Akito but I’ll get into that in a bit.

- There’s also something about this episode that made me sympathise a lot more with Kureno in a more understandable way. But, it also makes me question the ending of this whole story and the resolutions that happen and what life for the whole Sohma institution/family looks like after the curse has broken.. I guess, I should read ‘Fruits Basket Another’ after this, huh?

😳... Shigure is so petty, man. Really?!

So...

I hate this relationship. I’m sorry. I know there are loads of people who like this relationship. And I’m still giving myself space for the show and the story to convince me why it’s worth it. But... I really don’t like this relationship. It’s so toxic. In so many ways. And in a weird way, this scene made me feel a LITTLE bit more for Akito than Shigure. It feels like Shigure gaslights everyone in his life but none no more than Akito, herself. I hate the fact that he keeps saying he loves her while hurting her or disregarding her. You know, almost like he’s treating her like a child. But on the other hand, I hate the fact that Akito has lowkey gaslighted herself into thinking she can treat people however she wants because she is ‘God’. I understand this is part of the way she was brought up and it seems like life in the Sohma compound has been very isolating for her so there’s been no one really to show her better (or have the confidence to show her better). But, at least I can be a little bit more sympathetic on her side than Shigure’s. I dunno... it’s just all very ugly and toxic and I’m hoping that it’ll turn around somehow.

I just hope it’s not one of those relationships that are ‘so good cos it’s so bad’.

...I’ll briefly talk about the ending theme to end this on a good note lol:

I really like this ending! I dunno if they’re gonna have two endings and two openings for this season but this ending definitely feels like it should’ve gone in the second half as it’s almost spoiler-y? But, then again what anime opening and ending isn’t packed with spoilers lol

All the illustrations are gorgeous, I’m assuming they were drawn by Takaya-sensei herself as it seems very much in her current style of artistry but my favourite illustrations are definitely the ones shown above! <3

---------------------------------------------------------

Ahhh! Fin! Sorry, about this one being super long and you probably having to scroll past a whole lot on your dash 😝 As usual, I had a lot to say. I’m open to hearing from people who actually like Shigure and Akito’s relationship btw, it’s just that everything before and episode 2 just really didn’t sail the ship for me, personally. I do want to understand! Haha

See you soooon!

#fruits basket #furuba #fruits basket season 3 #fruits basket 2021

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lamelinam · 4 years

Note

Why do you love Shigure so much? lol no seriously, recount all the ways in which he is the best trash dad.

LOL

Not so much a trash dad than he is a trash lover.

The reason I love Shigure so much is because of all the ways that he is a bad person clash with all the ways he is a good person. The result makes a character absolutely fascinating to me.

Out of all the characters in Furuba, I think he is one of the most, if not the most, layered (and that’s saying something).

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Mr. Wisdom, trash dad

His wisdom and his knowledge of the human heart allows him to help people the best way he can. Cue his speeches to Kyo, Yuki and Tohru about dealing with anxiety, loneliness, etc.

He is devilishly clever. He knows people. He has an instinctive knowledge of what makes them tick and he doesn’t hesitate to use it. But he knows how to use his powers and insights into people’s psyche for good. See how he manipulated Hatori and Mayu to get together when he thought the time was right for both of them! Helping Hatori, advising the protagonists, getting Yuki out of the dark room... The man knows what he is doing, and he is voluntarily not very subtle about some of his schemes, so of course he annoys the others.

He is mysterious. The “ripple on the wave” analogy si perfect.

I love the amount of time needed in the story to discover what his goal is, and how much sense it gives the overall story retrospectively. And when you understand that he is. behind. almost. everything.The chess master who invites himself in the game Akito and Ren are playing and completely overtakes the board.

He is generous. I don’t think taking care of teenagers is his cup of tea, but he didn’t hesitate to get three problem children under his roof. He bought Tohru a bed and spoils her as much as he can! And gets everyone on vacation at the wood hut. He’s a good friend to Ayame and Hatori. When Akito got out of control and attacked Kana and Hatori, he rushed into the room to restrain the family head. (“Akito, listen to me!”)

He has a dream, and an unholy amount of patience, stubbornness and determination to see it succeed. Jacob Chapamn says it the best in his review of the 2x3 episode.

“Fruits Basket has often encouraged us to see Shigure as lazy, but considering that he's been trying to make some mysteriously impossible dream come true since he was a child, maybe this shiftless stinker who spends half his day sleeping is more determined than we thought. It's possible that Shigure's just been "doing the laundry at his feet" in his own way, minimizing his stress and conserving his energy each day so he can gradually chip away at a monumental task.”

And yet, he also knows to trust in fate and the freedom of others (”Que sera, sera”), barely nudging them in the right direction. What’s not to love in this mix of laziness and ruthless will?

But the best thing is that you don’t know if he’s acting out of the goodness of his heart or because it ultimately serves his own objective to help everyone find happiness out of the bonds of the curse.

Why can’t it be both?

A magnificent, self-aware bastard with a ruthless streak

He is just that TYPE, you know. In the cast of Fruits Basket, he stands out like pepper among sweets.

He is patient, conniving, and manipulative, self-aware. He knows what he wants, and is willing to do what it takes to get it. A powerful combination.

He has many faces. There’s the goofy one. He resembles, in a way, the buffoon in classic theatre pieces, who is close to the king, and under cover of jesting is the only one allowed to speak the truth, by riddle or mockery, and get away with it.

There’s the wise persona, filled with good advice and help for his friends and his charges.

But there’s also the piercing gaze, and the malevolent face. There are no true villains in Furuba. Most are victims. Akito is a basket case of fear and rage. Even the old maid is only the embodiment of the institution that produced her. Both are sorely lacking in the department of introspection. Ren is a wailing, grieving wraith clinging to a ghost (In more ways than one does she represent what Akito could have become). Shigure, on the other hand, is the farthest away from being a victim, and the closest to being a villain. He is always in control of himself, and is the only one who knows how to tame his own feelings and his attitude to coldly assess a situation and respond to it. His betrayal of Akito were both in rage and calculation, in full knowledge of causes and consequences, with plans and counter-plans for them. He is the kind of character who never explodes but will play the long game to enact his revenge. That makes him very dangerous indeed, because he is not rainbows and sunshine.

Coldly, he moves the pieces and is willing to risk them. He deliberately endangered Rin when he told Akito of her and Haru’s dating, with the dire consequences we know. He tells Ren about the box, although he couldn’t foresee that Rin would also be the victim.

And when he gets angry, he is CRUEL!!

And I don’t mean the kind of teasing that makes his editor cry. (That is mostly played for laugh.) I mean the kind of cruelty that makes you hurt the people who hurt you. And among the self-sacrificing protagonists or deuteragonists, innocent teenagers afraid that they might be thinking too much about themselves... the meanness of his revenge against Akito is such... an acutely human response to being hurt and cheated on. NOT GOOD, not fine! In fact, a truly malign act that did not have any other purpose than to hurt. But, how can I say... this is what made him, for me, the most REAL of all the cast. All of the characters, layered as Takaya knows to make them, have both good and bad traits. Generally, for the protagonists, a lot of good with a little bit of bad. Shigure is the only one of the main characters whose depths of bad match the heights of his good. Which is one of the reasons I find him such a fantastic character!

He gets neither a core character development neither a comeuppance. Seriously, everyone goes on incredible heroes’ journeys, jumping from one epiphany to the next, moving reunions and relationships and realizations... and he’s the only one who is, funnily enough, “unchanging”. Although he does say that he’s learned to make some compromises... I’d rather Yuki, Kyo or Tohru had punched him once, as Hatori warned him.... Although someone does.

So why does he get so little development? That’s, in a way, because he already thoroughly knows himself. He’s a grown up, but his heart hasn’t changed from the moment he was six and had a beautiful dream.

He is probably the zodiac who has the most self-control, and also the strongest will. Remember that the curse forces the zodiac members to submit to Akito, or else feel a rending pain in their hearts if they go against her wishes or hurt her. Yet, he is the only one, the first one, who is in full rebellion against her. He is Prometheus, or Lucifer in their uprising against the divinity controlling their lives! He’s the only one who doesn’t need the curse to be lifted for his eyes to open to the true natures of the curse and Akito. He sees what is wrong and fake with those bonds, and how Akito is slowly self-destructing from it. Like Lucifer, he is chased from Heavens, and from the recesses of his new dwelling, he gathers allies and plots against his God.

His goal, ultimately, proves to be good, but he is the only character ready to dirty his hands and deal with the unsavoury aspects of slowly unravelling a whole isolation, controlling, abuse-inducing system and pull his loved one out of this mess. He will do what needs to be done, meaning he will manipulate everyone, create conflicts and confrontations, force the other characters’ development, even if it hurts them, even if it hurts the one he loves, no matter the collaterals. (I would argue in his defence that undoing a centuries-old curse that is supposed to represent abusive and unhealthy relationships couldn’t be done without heartbreaks and tears).

He is a character who is extremely clever. A good one at heart (his affection for Hatori and the spot of light that is Shiki Sohma are proof of that) but under his goofy exterior, his intelligence and manipulative streak would probably have made him a distant, cold person if he hadn’t had that dream and that goal early on as a child.

The love story (give it all to me!!!)

He is both Akito’s main antagonist and her love interest, and god, do I love Childhood sweethearts to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers trope.

I am a romantic. And as such, I’d die for any love story that has the characters be the sort who would die for each other. However (twist)... I’d die for the two people who would die for each other but are stuck in this unhealthy cycle of ripping each other apart. Yep, I like messy relationships, albeit with a happy ending. Simply put, I believe that no matter how much we might wish otherwise, passion by itself might not always be pure. Love is not always healthy. Jealousy, resentment, anger, lies, find a way to drip their poison into love. Which is why I am attracted to those stories that have the protagonists macerating in this messy hot pot of issues that they cooked for themselves, and yet somehow find their way out.

Akito and Shigure are older than our main characters. They are not pure (arguable with Akito, as Tohru will argue). The chaste kiss they shared as kids has long given way to more passionate ones and a physical relationship. Theirs is far from the innocence of teenage first love. They are adults with heavy baggage: they were in a relationship, they cheated on each other, they exacted revenge on each other, in the pettiest ways they could think. They verbally tear each other apart, Akito out of hot fury and hurt, Shigure out of coldly served revenge.

And because this is the only way he knows how to help her.

He wants to break the curse because he wants his bond with Akito to be recognized as real. Does he do that out of jealousy? Certainly, in the way that love is naturally jealous and selfish. It’s not as if he wants to isolate her and keep her for himself, except romantically. He’s more than happy she’s friend with Tohru & later Saki and Mine. And there isn’t any evidence that he wasn’t fine with Akito’s bond with the other zodiacs... until Akito slept with Kureno. Very probably, he was her only partner at the time, and he thought they would have a normal, meaning exclusive, romantic relationship. Akito thought differently (”I am free to treat the zodiac members as I see fit!”), and he realized their feelings for each other wasn’t enough to keep her for himself, again, romantically speaking. He realized everything that was wrong with the curse, and with a partner who thinks of herself as “God”. And now that I think about it, isn’t the curse a deconstruction of the harem trope? It shows the darkness and jealousy that would arose from a situation where someone is ”born to be loved by all” and is willing to test that privilege. No matter that it’s not love, but insecurity and pity that gathers them in bed.

At the time, Shigure didn’t know that Akito didn’t sleep with Kureno out of affection, but out of fear of being abandoned, just that she would choose a fake bond over a true one. At the time, he reacted as a spurned lover, and did the one thing he thought would hurt her as much as she hurt him. From this point onward, he viewed her as an antagonist. He left. He started playing against her an elaborate game of chess in the hope of destroying the fake love of the zodiacs. So she could fall back in his arms. Very selfish, yes, but also the best thing he could have done for her.

Remember when I wondered why it was that Shigure’s eyes were open before anyone to the true nature of the curse? Why he was the only one able to rebel against God? I think that’s because his feelings for Akito were stronger than those of the spirit of the Dog for God. His own love, his flawed, selfish and possessive, deeply human love, overwhelmed and crushed the submissive love of the Dog for God. He saw Akito as herself, and because of that, he is the only one who treated Akito as human, not as a divinity. While the others bowed their heads and accepted her abuse, in a way enabling her violence, he didn’t give her a free pass. I’m not saying that the way he did it was right, but his tit-for-tat way to show Akito that he wouldn’t take a hit like a good little pet, like Kureno or Hatori, was a way to reject the divine in Akito. He wanted to be her equal.

As such, him being a manipulating bastard, playing with everyone, carefully laying his pieces on the board, makes him a de facto God (I saw another post on Shigure as a God-like figure, but I don’t remember where). It’s his way of staring at Akito right in the eyes, saying, “I see you as you are. I won’t bow. I won’t leave.” Which makes him the only one who could be with her at the end.

And it is very subtle, but Shigure’s attitude towards Akito does change after Kureno’s phone call. Until then, there was something bitter and malicious in the way he taunted her (”Tohru is a much better person than you are.” , “One of us will be sorry in the end and it won’t be me.” , “It’s time you reaped out what you sowed.”)... Afterwards, the paper flower is like an offer of reconciliation. And, there’s chapter 101 of course, when their confrontation leads to the bodice tie-ripping. But from then on, even though he says quite clearly that he is not “kind”, that he won’t indulge her the way Kureno and Hatori do, he is kinder. The only thing is that he refuses to offer her is the same kind of indulgence that the zodiac members give her, the kind that either pities her or treats her as something above them. An unhealthy combination that allows her to get away with anything, even abuse. Shigure’s relationship with her is almost an inversion of courtly love. Instead of being her faithful servant, he challenges her world-view, in a way that Akito finds antagonistic. But he tries to stir her towards a better place.

That’s him trying to help her. But Akito doesn’t see it this way. Instead, she thinks he is cold and harsh, when he offers her something different, and true.

That’s when his wisdom comes into play. Self-aware as he is, he realizes that he is not equipped with the tools to heal her. That’s another of the reasons he left the main house and implicated other people. Only someone like Tohru, someone outside of the Zodiac curse, could offer her the reassurances she needed. Shigure wants Akito. But he wants to save her too, by helping her accept the truth that she rejects and Tohru struggles with.

Time passes and moves on, as do people and emotions, leaving you behind.

I used to say that it is lucky, very lucky indeed, that his inherently selfish end goal aligned itself with the greater good. But that’s forgetting that his goal was good in itself: Shigure didn’t just want Akito as a partner. He wanted her healed and whole, happy and free. That wasn’t compatible with the curse. And it served his peace of mind to have everyone else happy. Deep down, although he is the kind who dabbles in it when he’s hurt, he is not the kind of person who rejoices in cruelty and darkness, just another man, however flawed, reaching for a light that would shine for all.

So, why do I love Shigure Sohma? This master mind who planned the unravelling of the curse over years of plotting, who trusts in fate while giving it a nudge, who is behind the whole plot of Furuba? This unholy mix of charm, laziness and ruthless determination, generosity and patience, self-awareness, pettiness and guilt? The “trash dad" who, although he benefited from it, provided a roof to three fragile teenagers in need and helped them become stronger? This man cursed by human failings, drowning in sins, yet whose heart is still dreaming, still reaching toward the holiest ideal of love? This Luciferian figure who gently caught his fallen goddess and stood by her side to explore with her the beauty of truly living?

"The only thing worth writing is the human heart in conflict with itself."

William Faulkner

I love Shigure’s contradictions, his complexity, his depths, the contrast between the purity and the selfishness of his goal, the oscillations of his means between depravity and virtue, the fact that he did it all for love. Those reasons might not make him the best person, but they make him a very human and real character in my eyes. And frankly, that’s what I want in fiction.

#shigure sohma #akito sohma #fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket spoiler #character analysis #furuba #furuba spoilers #furuba spoiler #tohru honda

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years

Text

Companions React: It’s All A Dream (Part Three)

CW: Gore mention and nightmares in X6’s part.

Piper:

Piper swore that if anyone tried to convince her that writing was an easy job she'd make them eat their own shoes. Writing, journalism, was near and dear to her heart, but it was anything but easy, even without her specific line of work being a chess game of some of the highest stakes. She knew the words she wrote painted a target above her head. That's why it was often difficult for her to sleep, specifically in Diamond City. "The safest settlement in the Commonwealth." What they didn't add was that only applied if you were compliant. And Piper definitely was not.

Paranoia had set in eagerly that night, showing itself in the form of chills that danced across her skin and anxious glances towards the door she refused to turn her back to. She felt like she was being watched. Then again, she probably was.

At some point she settled behind her desk, eyes still shifting to the door every now and then, and started editing one of her articles. If she couldn't sleep it better prove useful to her. Minutes crawled by like radroaches. Somewhere in the back of her conscious she was aware she was nodding off, yet she felt powerless to stop it. What little fight she had in her to stay awake drained away with the tik, tok, of the clock on the wall. The sound faded out.

Piper awoke warmer and more comfortable than she had been in a while. The blankets were soft, brushing against her cheek as she stretched out across the mattress. A light knock startled her slightly before she remembered why she awoke; Sole’s voice had been edging it’s way into her dreams. She rolled over, tugging the blankets over her shoulder in the same movement, and faced Sole who stood in the doorway. “Good morning.” They called softly.

In their hands was a tray of food; breakfast. They stepped into the room and carefully climbed onto the mattress, balancing the tray delicately so as not to give her a more rude awakening. Once they’d settled onto the bed they lowered the tray onto their lap and turned their attention back to Piper. “I figured you’d appreciate breakfast before you go to the office.”

She pulled herself into a sitting position and pulled the tray from their lap to hers. Memories of the dream pushed her to nervously glance at the door, drawing Sole’s attention the same direction. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Piper smiled warmly at them. “Thank you for the food, it looks amazing, Blue.”

“Blue? That’s a new one.” Sole glanced over curiously.

“Oh… yeah, figured I’d try it out.”

The silence was tinged awkward as Piper tried to think of ways to steer the conversation elsewhere. She pushed syrup around on her plate, chewing on her bottom lip, when Sole leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She flushed red, as she always did, despite how long their relationship had been going. “I think it’s cute, so don’t get all in your head about it, yeah? Eat your breakfast so you can go kick some journalist ass.”

Preston:

Snow blew in every direction, like a whirlwind of needle-sharp cold . Preston's eyes were squinted nearly-shut to ward off the invasive weather as he trudged through the neighborhood, snow piled up to his mid-calf. Shovel in hand, he was on his way to help clear his neighbor's driveway.

Maybe neighbor wasn't the right title for them. They'd known each other for about a year and they constantly invited him over for lunch. Their cat now wove between his legs when he stepped in the door and their dog bounded over to lick at his hands, not-so-subtly begging for treats. They had coffee with their lunch and chatted about their days before Sole would wave Preston off from their doorway.

It was hard to forget this. However, it was also hard to forget the dream he’d had that morning. He and Sole, in a completely different universe, fighting for their lives together. Trying to do right by a wasteland of a society. And the entire time, they were together. If he was honest, that wasn’t something he’d thought too hard about. Sure, Sole was someone he could see himself spending future days with, however he’d always thought it would be as friends. Until he’d woken up that morning.

Now Preston was grateful that his scarf and the chilling weather hid the flush of his cheeks. To anyone else, it’d look as if the cold was getting to him, which no one could blame him for. He knew better though; his heart was thrumming like a bird trapped in his chest as he trudged his way towards Sole’s house.

Through the twisting clouds of white fluff, Preston spotted the door to Sole’s house cracking open before it was thrown open and a figure stepped out. Near their feet, their dog cowered, shying away from the cold, but determined to greet an old friend. “Sole! Get back inside, it’s too cold!” He shouted over the wind, raising his shovel to indicate he was going to clear their walkway.

“Are you insane, Preston? Get in here, you’ll freeze to death!”

The tingling in his toes was indicating they probably weren’t wrong, but Preston was more stubborn than people gave him credit for. He’d set out to clear their driveway and that’s what he planned to do. Shovel in hand, he leaned over and began to work, waving them inside.

When he looked down for a moment to focus on what he was doing, he missed Sole tugging their boots on their feet and rushing out the front door, their dog pacing back and forth as he struggled to decide whether or not to follow them. Sole fought their way against the weather down their pathway and tugged on Preston’s jacket, startling him. “Inside, Preston. Please, before we both freeze to death!”

Ah, yes. The only person who could out-stubborn him. He should’ve known better, honestly. Preston heaved a sigh the best he could and followed them as they rushed back inside, hand white-knuckling the sleeve of his down coat. Affection surged up his chest, warming him, and fighting off the chill ever so slightly.

As soon as they had yanked him inside they shoved the door shut to block out the blistering cold. “You could’ve lost your fingers out there.” They stated breathlessly, tugging off his gloves and sandwiching his hands between theirs.

Suddenly, the warmth crawling up his cheek was overwhelming. They rubbed at the skin on his hands vigorously before bringing them to their face and blowing hot air over his skin. In a domino effect with speed worthy of a world record, goosebumps went racing up his arms. “You should go hop in the shower and let your clothes dry over the radiator. You’re nuts for coming this far in the cold. I’ll put on some coffee, okay?”

Their voice was raspier than usual, probably from the sudden change in temperature. Preston found himself nodding along. If they said it like that he was pretty sure he’d comply with anything they requested of him. With much reluctance, he pulled his hands from their grip and made his way to their bathroom, ready to thaw himself.

X6-88:

It was a full-blown nightmare. A kicking-and-screaming, every man for himself nightmare. From the day of his creation at the Institute, to the day he died beside Sole in the ruins of his birthplace, legs no longer his own halfway to God know’s where; he hadn’t got out in time, and he was going to die without knowing anything but the tiniest taste of freedom.

He’d awoken with a shout, struggling to find breaths that still didn’t feel as if they were his own. The Institute had created him that way; reminding him with every step he took that nothing belonged to him. Not even he belonged to himself. And for the longest time, he was okay with that. He didn’t think to care, because he didn’t think. Then Sole came along and changed everything. They shattered his reality in the most beautiful way.

He remembered having no regrets as he lay dying amongst crumbled stone and shards of glass. Vaguely, he felt the prickle of searing pain along the middle of his thigh, a memory that didn’t belong to him still managing to haunt him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the door click shut and suddenly there was a weight sinking into the mattress next to him.

Turning at a neck-breaking speed, he scrambled away from Sole as they sat down on the edge of his bed, their eyes wide at his reaction. “Hey, it’s just me. Breathe.” They didn’t dare to shift closer.

Sole shook with the effort of not reaching out to him, his eyes wide enough it must hurt. He looked like a child, if they were honest with themself, and they hadn’t seen him that vulnerable in a very long time. In the beat of silence they gave all they heard was his ragged breaths, so sharp they could cut, and a brief swallow. Then, they nearly shouted when he launched himself across the bed to wrap them in his arms.

“You’re okay?” His voice was so fragile they found themself growing even more concerned.

“Of course I’m okay, hon’. I’m just fine.”

He pulled away to examine their face, brushing his thumb over their cheekbone where he swore a piece of falling rebar had left a gash, narrowly missing their eye. The visual of blood dripping down their skin flashed into view before fading. Their skin was clean, though flushed red a bit from the sudden hug. He pulled them against him again, burying his face in their neck. “Everything’s okay, I promise you.” Their voice was soft as they began to rock him side to side.

The crushing grip he had on them was almost uncomfortable, but they were more concerned with whatever he’d witnessed in his dreams that had made him react like this. “Will you stay?” He asked, breathless.

“Whatever you need. I’ve got you.”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 companions react #Preston Garvey #Piper #X6-88 #Fluff #Angst #Hurt comfort #ngl i miss writing angst a lil

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 3

<- Previous Chapter | Chapter 4 ->

Summary: Chilton thinks about you when he knows he’s going to die.

1,849 words

“Do not come over tonight,” he said. Even through the bad cell phone connection, you could tell he was nervous, and it made you nervous.

“What’s the matter?”

“Or tomorrow night,” he continued. “Or ever. Stay away.”

“What?” Your heart sank. “What are you saying? I thought things were going well…”

“Only for the time being. You... may have been right,” his voice cracked ever-so-slightly. You knew it pained him to admit that, and the fact that he did made your blood go cold. “I think Hannibal Lecter is going to kill me. There is no reason for you to be there when it happens.”

Shit.

You worried when he started to believe Will Graham—ironically, the very thing you had wanted to begin with, but Will had changed, and you couldn't help suspect he was trying to get revenge on Chilton by roping him into investigating Hannibal Lecter. You were certain he at least didn’t care if Chilton was killed when Will started dangling fame and glory in front of his nose.

Chilton was too ambitious to resist the promise of fame and glory, and was the kind of fool to go poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Fuck that, I’m coming over. If we’re together, I can protect you.”

“Don’t. I am going to try to... Wait,” he paused, marveling, “you would do that for me?” His resolve firmed again, “Do not come. Please. Look, there is nothing connecting us except sex—good sex, mind you, but—you may not be on the Ripper’s radar. If you are close to me when he comes, he will only kill you, too. It’s not worth it. I do not want you caught up in this. Take the advice I should have: do not get involved.”

There was a click, and the call went dead.

You felt gutted.

*****

Frederick was the kind of man who spent all his nights and weekends alone, until you. It was pathetic to think you were his most stable relationship—not just currently, but of his entire life—when he had only known you for a few months.

That was not to say he was inexperienced.

He had fumbled with plenty of bras as a young legacy in a Harvard fraternity, and with fraternity brothers in dark closets, mostly under the influence of cheap alcohol (bought ironically, of course).

He dated in medical school, but there wasn’t much time for relationships when he was constantly studying twice as hard as everyone else just to stay in the middle of the class rankings instead of sinking to the bottom. Besides, in academia there was a full menu of up-and-coming doctors to choose from, and he was never found to be the most appetizing selection. Too bitter.

Family money opened all the right doors for him after graduating and starting his own practice. There, he could sit on top of his own throne without all the competition. Wealth and power finally made him a prime cut to the type who wanted to marry an important doctor, and the nurses and secretaries fell at his feet.

Unfortunately the type of person who, first and foremost, wanted an important doctor, was not interested in an emotional relationship—at least, the money came first.

Some sought the full package of money and romance, but those he always chased away after one or two dates. He found that anyone willing to tolerate his personality defects was the type to borrow his credit cards, ply him for gifts, demand a promotion, ignore him or cheat the moment he wasn’t buying something, and ultimately blackmail him for one final payout when even the money and status weren’t enough to tolerate being with him any longer.

It was fine, he told himself. He used them and they used him—it was how the game was played.

Then there was you.

Frederick Chilton always found you arrogant and unpleasant. He was an expert in his field, a respected psychiatrist who had discovered the Chesapeake Ripper in his facility, and you spoke to him as if he were a child!

(Well, assuming you swore so much at children. He wouldn’t know. children are filthy.)

Whenever he saw you entering his hospital, he knew he would need an extra glass of scotch to recover. You were fierce, never making a single effort to mask your intentions, whether it was tearing into him for (allegedly) unethical practices, or failing completely to mask your sexual attraction to him.

It had been a long time since anybody made a pass at him. Running an institution for the criminally insane was not widely considered sexy, and made his doctor-husband stock plummet—a fact for which he was grateful. Romance was hardly worth the effort, and he would rather be alone than pretend.

He should have shot you down. It would have delightfully changed the power dynamic—any time you insulted his methods, he could remind you of your embarrassing plea for his attention.

But in truth, he enjoyed sparring with you. The days you didn’t come rattle your sword at him were dull. Nobody else spoke to him so brazenly, even though many certainly shared your opinion. It was refreshing.

He’d been imagining ripping your clothes off for weeks.

This would be a one-time thing, he thought: another case of using and being used. He assumed you would call a taxi when it was over, but when he woke up in the morning your arms were wrapped around him with the sweetest smile on your lips. It was odd. It sort of made his chest ache even though he was sure he liked it.

This must have been what pity sex was like. Ah, the advantages of a cane!

Stranger still, you kept coming back to see him. A one-night stand turned into two, turned into three, until it became a habit—and you spent additional time with him for no particular reason he could discern. The sex was great, but fucking did not require staying the entire night to cuddle. When he was too busy working late to stop for dinner, much less for a sexual escapade, you showed up anyway, surprising him with a bag of fast food. It was greasy and barely edible, but thoughtful. You read a book in one of his leather chairs and ate all his fries while he typed reports into the night.

Surely you had other partners to choose from who would have been more entertaining. Your behavior was quite abnormal.

He knew you had an angle, but couldn’t figure out what it was. Breakfast, maybe?

The fact that he made you eggs and gourmet coffee didn’t seem enough to account for your always choosing to spend time with him. You said his house was nice, but even that wasn't enough. The equation was unbalanced. He never paid you, and you never demanded gifts—even when he offered them, you flatly refused. You would not let him so much as replace your cracked cellphone screen. You had always been so vehemently insistent about Will Graham’s innocence, but since you started sleeping with him you’d never asked for any favors, like moving Graham to a nicer cell or falsifying a psych evaluation.

He’d even had a full-blown panic attack in front of you. Something you could have used as leverage to threaten his very career. But you didn’t.

If you were ingratiating yourself with him for an ulterior motive, you were terrible at it.

Honestly, terrible. He wanted to give you pointers, but it would spoil the game. Unless—he considered the terribly disconcerting possibility—there was no game. You weren’t using him, you just had feelings for him. Real ones. It made him feel strange and off balance—if there was nothing transactional about the relationship, it was not something he could control. The thought disturbed him so much he nearly called the whole thing off, but something stopped him from picking up the phone. There was a squirming in his gut, and he didn’t like it.

What did you possibly want from him? What reason did you have to care?

Was it pity?

Pity was the only answer that made sense. Pity made you want to protect him; you had said as much on that first morning. It explained your change from hostility to affection (usually it went the other way around), and why he hadn’t driven you away by now.

It was nice, he thought. He rather liked your pity.

He would have been happy basking in it for a long time, but… he made an error in judgment.

Chilton knew he had fucked up. He was so drawn in by Hannibal Lecter, trying to be his friend—trying to be like him—and all the while whispering sensitive information right into the Chesapeake Ripper’s ear. Then he had to go and listen to Will Graham, to show Jack Crawford that tape with evidence that seemed so solid at the time. But he was played. Hannibal knew he knew, and Chilton was the Judas who tried to sell him out.

He was dead meat. Literally.

He was dead, but you—you had believed Graham from the start, and stayed far away from Dr. Lecter. He was dead, but you didn’t have to go down with him. He could keep you safe. Out of the line of fire. The time you had spent together recently had been nice, and while he had no desire to die alone, the twisting in his gut insisted that he owed you that much for giving him so much of your time. This was the right reason to call things off.

One good deed could not make up for a life of misfortune and selfishness, but if he could save you from sharing his fate, then dying would not be the worst thing that could happen.

*****

“Him? How can you honestly believe Frederick Chilton is capable of being a serial killer?!” you screamed in Jack Crawford’s face after he arrested the shaken psychiatrist. Since learning what had happened, you were… upset. “Are you stupid? He’s being framed, just like Will! That man does not have the constitution to make dioramas out of murdered bodies—he’s an anxious nerd who can’t even drink coffee unless it has been first digested by a civet!”

“Watch it, or I'm sending you home,” Crawford warned as the federal agent who would tolerate no disrespect, especially in the middle of an FBI field office. As Crawford the sensitive father figure, the edges of his hard stare softened with sympathy, and he pat you consolingly on the arm.

“At least let me see him!”

Crawford did his best to calm you down, reassuring you that Chilton would be investigated fairly using all the resources of his task force. So you tried to relax as the doctor was handcuffed and dragged into the bowels of the field office to be interrogated. Crawford guided his old protégé, Miriam Lass, into the observation room to confirm whether Dr. Chilton was in fact the Chesapeake Ripper who had held her hostage for three years, while you paced impatiently outside.

There came a loud bang.

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Raúl Esparza #Hannibal #my writing

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beastars-takes · 4 years

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Zootopia Takes: The Power of Really Liking Each Other

Our main event, Beastars Takes, will resume soon, but in the meantime I want to talk about one of my favorite movie relationships:

Has this been talked about to death by other people? Yes. But this is my blog and I write it for free so I can do what I want.

Note: this is not a shipping post--this is just an examination of their canonical relationship in the movie and why it rules.

At first glance, this is your typical enemies-to-friends story. I love those. But while the typical arc tends to involve two characters who can’t stand each other, who eventually develop a grudging respect for one another (often through some kind of shared ordeal) and maybe thaw into actual friendliness at the end. Zootopia packs all of that into the first half--by the midway point they are clearly not just allies, but friends, and by the end of the film they’re inseparable.

It’s important to recognize this isn’t just for the hell of it, or just to be cute--the closeness and trust they build is the linchpin of their success in the final moments of the movie.

All the reasons why, after the jump.

Something I talked about in the previous post was the messaging of Zootopia, and I don’t want to rehash it too much here. It’s a movie about prejudice, and the work it takes to overcome it. A key theme (one that it shares with Beastars, incidentally) is that friendships with those who are different from you are hard--but they are worth it.

Part 1: They Hate Each Other! (Right?)

Now...it goes without saying that when these two first meet, they bounce off each other hard. Each is seeing the other at their absolute worst.

Judy can’t stand Nick because he takes every bit of optimism she has about this world and throws it back in her face. She want to use him as a prop in her vision of an equal society, where “not all foxes” are crooks. He laughs at her. He humiliates her. All he has to do is walk away, but he takes his time. He twists the knife.

For his part, Nick sees a laughably ineffectual bunny who condescends to him and threatens him with jail for the crime of...humiliating her. She may not personally be a threat to him, but she wields the institutional power of the ZPD--a power he has plenty of reason to be afraid of--and she does it irresponsibly.

On first viewing, Nick inarguably wins this exchange. He avoids arrest, reads her to absolute filth and leaves her stuck in cement.

And he makes her really sad. Nice!

But, and I don’t pretend to be the first person to have pointed this out, on second viewing it’s obvious he can guess her story so well because it’s basically his story. The only difference, in his mind, is that he’s accepted the reality that he’ll never be allowed to live the life he wants, while she is still vainly pursuing hers.

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but the people I’ve met who have always most pissed me off are the people who remind me of things I hate about myself. The people who seem to embody the flaws I’ve worked to minimize. Nick’s naive hope is what has brought him the most pain in his life. He sees this bunny full of the same naive hope, surmises that she’s facing the same failures he did and yet stubbornly refusing to learn from them. It’s irritating.

Pictured: irritation.

Maybe I am projecting, but if Nick is anything like me, he probably didn’t walk away entirely happy from this exchange. Yes, he “won,” but he was also reminded of everything about himself that he least wanted to think about.

Part 2: They Are Not Very Good at Hating Each Other

So, the thing about Judy is, she is naive. By default, she assumes people are her friend. But she’s not stupid.

Nick assumes she is stupid, not least because she hasn’t wisely given up on her dreams like he has, and...he learns that she maybe not so fun to pick on after all.

So they wind up doing the first part of this enemies-to-friends routine, allies of necessity.

So, naturally, because he is Him, he makes it his mission to torment her.

In fact, we get two whole scenes where all he does he does is watch her struggle and make this face.

The first read of this behavior is that he’s just enjoying the failures of someone he hates. He says as much later. But I would also argue--from a viewer’s perspective--Judy is ridiculously entertaining and charming throughout these encounters. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and it’s hard not to like people like that.

Is there more happening here than just schadenfreude? I won’t pretend to know for sure. But worth considering.

By the time they’re investigating the limousine, his sabotage has diminished into something more like gentle trolling. And you can’t see this face, in context...

...and tell me she isn’t starting to like him, at least a little bit.

He’s also starting to help! By the time they’re past the minor detour of almost being murdered by a mob boss, he’s entirely cooperative, helping her conduct interviews and look for clues. The movie doesn’t call particular attention to this, but it almost did.

Finally, let’s look at Nick’s behavior when they’re being chased by a rabid jaguar. He could have absolutely booked it, with no regard for the cop who was blackmailing him into helping her.

These moments go by so quickly, but they’re hugely revealing of his true character, even before he defends her in front of Chief Bogo.

He picks her up when she falls.

More importantly, when he gets to the skytram, his first instinct isn’t to jump in--it’s to hold the door for her:

He sees she can’t make it, and she even tells him to leave without her. He doesn’t. He holds the door until he can’t anymore, and as a result he’s nearly killed.

Nick is a good boy.

Part 3: They Are Friends Now

She save his life, so he saves her job. This is a key story beat, and it’s a Disney movie, so there’s not a lot of subtlety (except how the specular highlights in Judy’s eyes fade as Bogo asks for her badge--the light literally goes out of her. Go watch).

But it’s such a sweet moment of teamwork--he was contemptuous toward her from the start because she believed in herself. This is the first time she’s simply given up in the whole movie, and he steps up. Because he believes in her now.

And she believes in him! Or, she wants to.

Judy’s supportiveness here is sweet, but it’s also still a little selfish. It’s not that different from their interaction at the ice cream shop, really: she wants to meet a fox who defies stereotypes, who is easy for her to like. Someone who ticks all the boxes to prove her family wrong.

When he starts being more foxy, later--self-identifying as a predator, showing his claws, challenging her--we learn that her supportiveness is conditional.

Am I being too hard on her? Sure. She’s been in bunny country her whole life. She’s new to this and she’s trying. But that’s where she’s at.

But still! They’re friends now. They’re no longer pretending they don’t like each other. Judy’s openly encouraging, Nick is fully in her corner, and we get a few cute sequences where they keep being more and more impressed with each other.

He’s still not above affectionately messing with her, and she’s getting worse at pretending to dislike it.

And he trusts her enough to let her flush him down a toilet...

Which gives us this heartbreaking shot where he thinks she’s drowned. He cares a whole lot about this bunny.

She likes him too! Enough to want to team up on a more permanent basis. This is pretty standard-fare enemies-to-friends stuff now, but considering where we started, and considering they’ve known each other for all of two days? Not bad!

It’s clear this moment means far more to him than it does to her, too. It’s actually taken very little persuading from Judy to get him to step up and be brave and helpful and trustworthy. The fact that he’s turned around and opened up to her so fast suggests he’s been ready for an opportunity like this for his entire life, and never got it. I mean, look at his face.

The foundational flaw in her worldview is still there, though, and it’s about to do almost-irreparable damage to their whirlwind friendship.

Part 5: Fuck!

So Judy gives her press conference, and gives a great example of why police usually answer every question with “the matter is currently under investigation,” or “we’re not prepared to comment further at this time.” Honestly, though, this is on Bogo--I had coworkers who once did some press interviews, and they spent over a week doing media training. They didn’t even break a major kidnapping case. So, you know.

So she repeats some weird race science stuff she assumes is true because someone in a lab coat said it, which is amusingly similar to how race science (or “race realism”) often propagates--people with low-rent doctorates from crappy universities write a bunch of scientifically shoddy material and people say “well, he has a PhD!”

And then Nick has a PTSD flashback? I don’t want to be irresponsible and make an armchair diagnosis, but also...that is absolutely what is depicted on screen.

You’re not immediately “better” after something like this, which is why I cut Nick a bit of slack when he basically blows up their friendship.

Judy...doesn’t get it. It’s completely heartbreaking, because she likes him, and doesn’t understand why he’s mad, and isn’t self-reflective enough to stop and think maybe he has a point. Not until it’s too late. He tests her, and she fails.

Their friendship has always been a little inequal. He’s trusted her with everything, shown her his deepest vulnerabilities. She’s never trusted him completely.

So he leaves.

I don’t want to impugn her professionalism by suggesting she wouldn’t have quit the force if she hadn’t had that friendship-ending fight, but, you know. Maybe.

This is the second time she gives up, and this time he’s not there to pick her up again.

Judy is intensely goal-oriented, and I don’t think she realized what Nick’s friendship meant to her, as the first person in the city who truly believed in her, until it was too late. Judy is sweet and well-meaning but emotional intelligence is not really her strong suit (which is actually cool to see in a female Disney protagonist, imo).

So, while it would have been nice for her to track Nick down immediately and apologize, I think it makes sense for them to spend time apart. Her own self-perception has been shattered, and she needs time to figure out how she went so wrong.

So when she does come back, she delivers one of the best animated apologies I’ve ever seen. Only AtLA compares, in my mind.

Part 6: They Are Much Better Friends Now

Nick forgives her, because of course he does.

(Sidebar--people talk about how he kept her carrot pen the whole time they were apart. He also kept his handkerchief from Ranger Scouts, AND he only wears shirts that match the wallpaper in his mother’s house. He desperately needs a hug.)

Credit to Nick also, who can’t fight and has no police training whatsoever, who has multiple times been almost killed helping her out, now agreeing to help her out again. She’s not even threatening him with jail this time!

We, the viewers, are then rewarded with this great montage of them being best friends.

She’s finally stopped pretending not to be amused by his shenanigans.

(One other sidebar here--Nick is canonically a really gentle character. For all their adventuring, this is only time in the movie he gets physical with anyone: to protect the bunny. Again, he definitely can’t fight and immediately gets smacked across the room. But it’s the thought that counts, right?)

Per the post title, more visual evidence of them really liking each other.

Judy trips on a dead body, and here we get the second time in the movie that Judy tells Nick to leave without her, and he won’t--this time, he refuses explicitly.

Which then gives us the opportunity for the big moment--the culmination of all this care and intimacy and trust.

In order to con Bellwether, she lets him stalk her, and bite her throat. This has been often pointed out, but it’s important--throughout the movie, Judy’s wriggling rabbit nose has been used as a signifier of fear and suspicion. It wriggles when she’s spying on Nick at the beginning. It wriggles like hell when he confronts her after her press conference.

Not here. Doesn’t move. It’s a great, clearly intentional animation choice that tells a close observer (or more likely, a repeat viewer) that she’s completely unafraid.

She trusts him.

I could write a whole other post about how well-scripted this movie is, how every scene is doing half a dozen different things, but the way the personal and the professional come together here, the way the threads of prejudice and friendship and the police case all tie together in this moment. It’s good shit.

This is basically where things end, in terms of character development, but we get a bunch more shots of them clearly adoring each other:

So there it is.

To sum up, certainly not suggesting this movie invented “characters liking each other,” or anything like that. But it goes above and beyond in portraying a friendship that’s not just one born of circumstance, one that’s authentic and unmistakably loving. Characters who enjoy spending time with each other, regardless of what’s going on around them.

I hope everyone is able to experience friendships like that. I absolutely treasure the few I have.

Appendix: The Shipping Thing

I hope I’ve made all this ship-agnostic, which was my intention. I personally like the ship, and I think the reason it resonates with people is because that love and trust and closeness is clearly there, and a romantic relationship creates a lot more easy opportunities for dialing those things up even higher.

I would also argue, if pressed, that the amount of teasing and physicality that happens reads as pretty flirty. If they were humans I knew in real life, I’d definitely think there was something going on there. But I’m an American, where touching and emotional intimacy tends to be read as romantic. Also, animals are a lot more cuddly than humans. So who knows? I think it’s perfectly reasonable to read them as platonic friends until the end of time.

But, one way or another, they love each other a lot. Shout out to this, one of the most emotionally rewarding relationships I’ve ever seen in a cartoon.

#zootopia #zootropolis #zootopia takes #judy hopps #nick wilde #disney

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