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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years

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“you’re so beautiful.”

hello, hi.

here’s some long-awaited spencer fluff that got requested to me. it’s loosely based on this idea that someone sent in to me; you should write something fluffy about spence or the reader being sick or having an off day (something along those lines), and the other just being very attentive to them. like checking in on them before the roundtable meetings or in between briefings and maybe they go out to catch an unsub and they're holding hands in the car and just being super sweet and caring :'))))) brb gonna go explode with feels.

explode with feels is how i hope you’ll feel after reading this. it did make me go all mushy inside because having spencer take care of me whilst i’m sick would be a dream come true- but it won’t because he’s a fictional character and that sucks.

this could the last story that gets posted for a while; some things are happening and i just want to take a bit of a break from posting stories on here until i’m feeling comfortable again. i’m still going to be writing behind the scenes so don’t think i won’t be; there’s so much spencer stuff to work from that plenty of stories will be coming. i just want to say that i am incredibly thankful to each and every one of you who has supported this new venture of writing and has enjoyed it so far.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

“you’re so beautiful” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 4.6k.

* TRIGGER WARNING; very brief mentions of rape, abduction, torture. if you are uncomfortable with that, i advise not to read or read with caution. *

summary; yn falls sick and spencer likes to take good care of her when they’re working on a case.

YN woke up feeling like shit.

There was no need for her to beat around the bush and deny herself the truth on how her body was making her feel. Her head ached whenever she moved her vision from side to side and her temples throbbed close to her ears and she could feel her heartbeat from behind her eyes, pumping more vigorously, almost like it could have been heard throughout the entire building. Like the heartbeat effect in a movie when things got tense. Her breathing was shallow, her throat felt constantly dry and in need of hydration and her nasal passages felt like wet cotton-wool had been shoved up each nostril and had been strictly put there to restrict a clear intake and outtake of breath when she needed one. Her chest felt heavy, like she was drowning and had no way of coming back to the surface, and her eyes felt sensitive to the bright light of the pure sunshine streaming through the open curtains, which she assumed Spencer had opened when he woke up.

Despite feeling poorly and her head feeling like it wanted to involuntarily dip downward toward her chest, her eyes begging to have a few more minutes of sleep, she felt physically fine and there was no aching in her joints and no soreness around her neck and her legs felt strong enough to hold her weight and so she felt she could live the natural working day like normal. She could still hear so she could attend the briefing that morning, she could still see clearly so she could see the images of what they were dealing with when Garcia showed them on the screen in the roundtable room, she could still manoeuvre herself around and walk without getting dizzy or wandering from a straight line so she could easily be used in a chase to catch an unsub. She was fine to work and nothing but a couple of cold and flu capsules taken with her breakfast and some regular four-hour intakes of paracetamol through the day would keep her strong and feeling better throughout the day.

She left their bedroom freshly showered and spritzed with perfume and deodorant and dressed in an outfit that seemed like it was fitting attire to how she was feeling; a baggy sweatshirt, that hung loose down her upper body and covered her hands, and a pair of worn-out and black-denim skinny jeans that she kept in the back of her closet for days when work trousers just didn’t cut it for her. When she wanted something a little more comfortable and fitting. The material at the kneecaps almost worn out and torn from the non-stop crawling on her knees during cases that had them in tight spaces, the hems cut up from walking through thorns and shrubbery when cases took them into the wilderness, dried out stains of god-knows what sunk deep into the material which she struggled to get rid of when laundry day came around, and the denim around the inner thigh was wearing thin from the constant running around they had to do and with the amount of time she paced interrogation rooms and paced negotiation rooms when she felt on edge about something in particular. The jumper, she hoped, would keep her warm enough to not get worse symptoms over the next few days that passed so she wasn’t sent home for being ill - Hotch being more careful than strict because he couldn’t have her working excessively when her body couldn’t take the pressure.

What she expected to see, after closing the bedroom door behind her exit, was an empty living room that was void of anything related to Spencer. His house keys taken from the hooks by the front door, his tattered Converse trainers gone from the space beside her chunky black boots, his shoulder bag picked up from the floor by the coat-rack that was also missing his coat. Except, when she looked around and took a note of anything that had gone, everything seemed to have been left in the same place as where they had been left the previous evening when they arrived home; her boots were to the left of his trainers, his bag was hung up instead of left of the floor and his coat was taking up a hook on the rack beside her patterned macintosh.

He was still home and it took her a moment to realise.

There was a delicious smell of bacon and fried eggs filling the entire apartment, the delectable sound of something sizzling in a pan taking her from the entryway and into the kitchenette, where she found Spencer stood amongst the smells and the sounds and the spitting oil and the steam coming from the cooker. Stood with his back facing her and dressed in the typical waistcoat and patterned shirt, one hand holding a ceramic bowl in a tight grip and the other using a fork to mash two halves of an avocado up, head darting from the pan frying the eggs to the bacon cooking in the grill to make sure there was no burning of any of the breakfast foods he was prepping for a masterpiece.

“What’s going on here this morning? Are you burning food for an experiment or something?” She questioned, startling him in his spot, a tinkle of metal cutlery colliding with ceramic as he dropped the fork upon your sudden arrival. His body turned so gracefully in his place, the bowl of avocado being left behind on the counter, taking in the standing stature of his girlfriend as she stood in the archway of the kitchen entryway. Her hair damp from the shower but dried enough not to leave wet patches on her clothes, fresh-faced and make-up free, looking so small as she stood with a grin on her face- god, he really loved her., “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning to you,” he smiled warmly, stepping across the expanse between them and reaching for her hands, curling his fingertips into hers and holding them gently in his sweetened hold. He smelt like his musky and sandalwood-scented aftershave, something that always lingered in whatever room he entered, and she loved that it made her feel so safe and secure. The smell of home when they/he were away from home. “You were tossing and turning in bed all night and I heard you sniffling this morning so I knew you were going to wake up a little ill so I thought I’d make you breakfast to cheer you up. Egg and mashed avocado on toast with some bacon to get you going since it’s your favourite at the moment.”

She smiled appreciatively. He was attentive, no matter what the subject was, and his eidetic memory came in hand sometimes when she found a new obsession or found something that she enjoyed because he always seemed to remember and never let it slip his mind. Egg and avocado on toast just so happened to be her favourite meal for the first meal of the day, which she knew would change by next week, and to see him cooking it made her heart race for him a little more than normal. She laced her fingers through his, bringing one of his hands to her lips and pressing a kiss to his skin because there was no way she was going to kiss him on the lips because she knew whatever she had could pass as quickly as it could spread. Much to her dismay, of course, because she liked to sneak the occasional and sneaky kiss whenever they could in between meetings or briefings or orders being thrown about from Hotch.

“A little ill?” She frowned, head dipping down to her chest before looking back up at him, his eyes full of concern and worry, “I feel fine. Just a little bunged up. A head cold, I would say, Spence.”

He left the space in front of her to tend to the sizzling in the pan that was becoming a little more vicious as it held the cooking eggs, spitting oil as an indication that they were ready to be taken out and placed on a plate and ready to sit upon a bed of toasted bloomer bread that had a spread of avocado along the toasted top. Turning off the hob and sliding to the toaster, slipping two slices of bread into their toaster and allowing it to toast whilst the bacon finished grilling under the heat. And, by this point, YN took it upon herself to sit at the dining table and pour herself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere perched in the middle of the table, steaming with black coffee that had been freshly made before she left the bedroom.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” Spencer broke the silence of the quiet apartment with a huff and a puff surrounding his words, setting a plate down in front of her and swiping his brow with the back of his hand, “you’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful right now, Spence,” she informed him, eyes focused on the bright yellow yolk of her egg, as he went back to grab his plate and walked back to the table to sit opposite her. She was impressed with his attempt. She liked her eggs cooked in a very specific way when it came to frying them, sunny-side up and with a runny yolk that covered everything when it broke, and he managed to get it perfectly to her expectations. “I’m all bunged up and snotting and leaking from every hole today. I don’t feel so pretty.”

“Every hole?”

“Every facial hole, you pervert,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smirk that would have shown if she wasn’t trying to be a tiny bit serious. However, deep down, she was a little surprised that the innocent face that had sat opposite her at the dining table could even think of euphemisms so youthful and degenerative so quickly and so on subject when sex wasn’t exactly something he was confident in, “get your dirty mind out of the gutter.”

“I still think you look beautiful. Snot all around your nostrils or not,” he said, “absolutely gorgeous.”

“Shut up, don’t flatter me,” she kicked his shin underneath the table and grinned at the contact she felt with her toes, a wince leaving his mouth and a dribble of yolk trickling down his chin, the impact jerking his body and therefore jolting his arm and smearing avocado across his cheek, much to her amusement. “serves you right, genius.”

“Hurry up and eat, we’re needed in the roundtable room in half an hour,” he shovelled a forkful of toast into his mouth, the crust catching his mouth and swiping a mix of avocado and egg whites across his upper lip.“Try not to sniffle and cough so much otherwise Hotch won’t allow you on the jet.”

“Don’t sabotage my job, Spencer. The team needs me just as much as they need you.”

“I want you as close to me as possible so I can keep an eye on you. I’m a doctor, after all. I can look after you, carry any meds you need, be your something warm on the jet,” his sentence was halted by the ringing from the phone in his trouser pocket, the fork in his hand being placed on the plate so he could dig around and pull it out, no hesitation in his thumb to answer until he heard YN sniffle and he caught himself before he pressed the green call button. “You’re still alert to everything, yeah? Still good to come into work?”

“Do you mean, am I alert that Hotch is ringing your phone right now to get confirmation that we’ll be in on time?” She wondered, a hint of a smirk on her face when he looked up from his screen and nodded, “then yeah, I’m still good to go to work and treat the any like any normal day, Spence.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer’s question was full of concern, and she worried that those overhearing their conversation because of the silence inside the confinement of the plane had their ears pricking up at any noise made by any one of the team, his long legs striding across the alley of the plane and crouching down beside the chair YN had made herself comfortable in for the duration of the flight to Texas. Away from everyone else, away from where chat would have been occupied because her head couldn’t take the jokes and the laughter that came from the gentle banter shared, away from being seated next to anyone in close proximity because she feared that she would definitely give something to someone in the tight space they were spending the next few hours. Although, when she looked around the plane for any eyes on her or anyone who had stopped mid-task to focus on what she and Spencer were talking about, she saw everyone off in their own worlds and in their own quiet conversations as the plane coursed its path.

“I’m a bit tired but I’m okay. The pills before the flight are kicking in,” she smiled and tilted her head to the side and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes and hooded eyelids hanging above her coloured orbs, his arms folded on the arm of the chair she was curled up in. Her legs felt a little achy, in the bent up position they were in, and she remembered to move them and stretch them for a little to make sure her circulation was still running well. “I think I might take a nap right now. How long till we land?”

“Another couple of hours,” Spencer looked at his watch and then looked back to YN, his hand resting upon hers reassuringly, “I’ll brief you on everything when we land, if you want. To refresh your memory. I’ll get Hotch to get me and you to check the abduction site.”

“That’ll be good.”

“YN, get as much rest as you need,” Rossi said, standing behind Spencer and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to tell him he was there and to not stand bolt upright in surprise. Partly to silently reassure him that she’d be fine if he left her to sleep through the flight to pass the time and partly to keep him stable as the plane hit a bout of soft turbulence from the gusts of high winds. “We’re thankful you chose to come with us but don’t forget to put yourself first sometimes. If you’re feeling rough then tell us. We can work around that.”

She really adored David.

He was like the father of the team; much more to YN because she had joined the team a short amount of time before he had taken over from Gideon. Even though he had common ground with almost every one of the agents in the unit, the two of them still kept a lookout for one another and checked in during intense cases because Rossi knew some of the information was enough to have someone second guess their career paths. He was the one who always pulled them aside when a situation got a little hated, he was the one who always pulled together team functions outside of work, he cooked for them and taught them Italian and he always knew how to shock and surprise them to a point where they weren’t surprised that Rossi had such an emotional and bumpy road in life.

He was the good cop to Hotch's bad cop - but that usually switched from time to time.

“Rossi, I’m fine. Honestly. I feel fine, just a little bunged up in the chest and the nose area. I struggled to sleep last night so I’m just going to try and grab an hour's shuteye,” YN spoke softly, wiping a tissue underneath her nose and balling it up in her fist, “I’ll be fine after a sleep, I’m sure. My grandma always told me that sleep was the best medicine.”

“If you’re sure,” he hummed, taking a step to the left and hiding in the alcove to make himself a cup of coffee, “absolutely sure?”

“This may not be my grandma’s couch but,” she grinned tiredly and nodded, “I’m absolutely sure.”

He smiled and held his coffee cup tightly in his hands, walking back to where he had been situated opposite JJ and Hotch, taking a glance at Morgan who had found himself comfortable on the sofa of the plane, the case file spread out on either side of him as he prepped to take control of the quick brief they always made so they were ready for when they touched down at their destination and split off into pairs to gain better understanding of who they were dealing with this time around.

“Warm enough?” Before his question was over, he was already shrugging off his jacket and opening it up, “here, some extra warmth,” he draped the material over her body and watched as she snuggled deeply beneath the garment. It smelt like him, it felt like him but it wasn’t him and she wished she could be snuggled on his lap and sleeping under his arm because that's where she slept the best- “better?”

“I was fine before,” she rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the touch of his lips, a kiss being placed against her forehead “but this feels nice.”

“Get comfy, I’ll go grab you some water.”

“You don’t need to baby me, Spencer. I’m honestly fine,” she grabbed his arm and stopped him from standing up and moving into the alcove behind her, not that he was going far but she just wanted to enjoy the moment they had going right now. They rarely got the chance to have their own conversation, in their own world, without any interruption from someone who wanted to tease them for something silly, “just stay here. I don’t need any water, not thirsty.”

“You can’t finish a sentence with the letter ‘d’ finding its way to the end of a word,” he said teasingly, a grin on his face because when she rolled her eyes, her head went the movement, like she went to ignore him because he couldn’t say anything seriously when she wanted him to be serious. Except, she wasn’t doing it to ignore him and to silently tell him that she was displeased with what he had said- she was doing it because if he let her eyes move on their own, her head would have been aching for moments afterwards, “let me grab you some water.”

“Spencer, stop,” she whined, “if I want water then I can get it myself. I’m not an invalid.”

“Never said you were but let me take care of you this time,” he was practically begging. She was independent when it came to being sick and she never liked to show a vulnerable side in front of Spencer, even when he tried his best to wear her down to the point where she gave in to his relentlessness, “please?”

She sighed heavily and pulled his jacket further up her body, tucking it beneath her chin and cosying a little deeper into the seat; she supposed she could use him and his willingness to obey orders to her advantage.

“Okay, fine.”

Two days had passed since they had landed in Texas, the longest amount of time that they’d ever spent on a case across the borders, and they were closer to the arrest of the predator who had abducted, raped and killed multiple women over the course of thirteen months than they were when they first arrived. Just a few more hours until they solved the case, had it come to an end with an arrest, so they could be on the jet and back in Virginia come nightfall.

She was ill, granted, and that was one reason as to why she couldn’t wait to get home. In the last forty-eight hours since they’d been there, YN’s head cold had turned into a full body cold and she had taken a turn for the worst but refused to work from the hotel room she shared with Spencer and kept her symptoms more secret. Partly because she was selfish - she knew Hotch would want her working away from the case because the chances of her zoning out where pretty high and she wanted in on the arrest of this unsub, she wanted to be the one who got him in cuffs and put him away for the murders of so many innocent women.

She wanted her own bed and she wanted to cuddle with Spencer and she wanted to sleep beneath her own covers and sleep in a mattress that Spencer wouldn’t check and inform her on all the facts about bed-bugs and larva that could linger within the spring beneath them, in a bed that wasn’t a tiny hotel bed that was put to shame by their comfortable bed at home. she wanted a decent shower to freshen up in because she always woke up feeling gross and no matter how many showers she took, she still couldn’t rid herself of the sweaty feeling that covered her skin. and she wanted

But she couldn’t wait to get home and try to rid herself of the information and the images she had been looking at and reciting and listening to over the last 48 hours or so. The stab wounds and the lacerations and the markings on the body of a woman who couldn’t defend herself, the brutal depiction of the well-thought out scenario that made YN shudder in her boots, the toture equipment that had been used on them when they were bound and tied up and screaming for their lives, the pictures showing the faces of the women who no longer had a life to live due to someone’s sadistic behaviour. That was the biggest reason as to why she couldn’t wait to go home.

And it was her arrest.

And she felt proud, a sense of accomplishment, that she was the one to handcuff him and walk him out from his tomb in the basement, beneath the house he had stayed in all his life, and pass him off to a police official who sat him in a police car waiting to take him to the station to be put away for the rest of his sorry life. Of course, they prevented any more attacks that this man would have prepared for but it never brought her a full sense of happiness- how could it when they couldn’t save the girls he had tortured?

“Even when you’re ill, you’re still a badass,” JJ claimed, squeezing YN’s hand and feeling the adrenaline shaking through her body. Something that they had all been through and always experienced no matter how many times they brought a criminal to justice for the horrific things they had done. “You did good, YN.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass just-” she coughed into her free hand and Spencer was close by with a tissue from his jacket pocket, passing it to her so she could blow her nose and wipe the residue from her hand that came from clearing her throat, “just trying to be good at my job and trying to do it well to get these sons of bitches behind bars.”

JJ smiled at the two of them and jogged down the steps of the house, running toward Hotch as she filled him in and told him what had happened in the house and who made the arrest and who was their support and back-up in case things went wrong so he could write the report as best and as true to the story as he could. His eyes darted to YN and then back to JJ a few times as she explained in detail, a small smile on his face that was full of appreciation when he looked at YN and made eye contact which enticed a smile back in his direction, deep in conversation before clambering into the drivers side of the car.

“I’d agree with JJ,” Spencer smiled, laying his arm over her shoulder and pulling YN into his side, pressing a kiss to her hairline, “full of a cold and you still put the job first. That’s badass behaviour to me.”

“Badass,” YN scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking up at him and squinting from the sunlight that seemed to be beaming directly down upon them, “I don’t think so, Spence.”

They descended the steps outside the front of the house, his arm still holding her close, the soft feeling of grass and soil from the front lawn making a difference to the concrete they had walked upon as they exited the house. YN could feel the heat radiating all around, making her feel a little hotter than usual and she had the big jumper covering her upper body to thank for that, and she couldn't wait to be back in Virginia in the air-conditioned office that stayed at a calm and cooling temperature, no matter the weather.

“For a genius, I’d take his word for it,” Rossi said from behind them, overtaking them in a haste to grab the passenger seat in the car with Hotch, “he knows what he’s talking about, YN.”

She didn’t need to see his face to see and hear the smirk in his voice, her arm sneaking around Spencer’s waist, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she received a well-done from the rest of the team who had watched from behind the scenes.

“Come on,” he leant away from her and looked down at her, “you did so good today. I’m proud of you.”

“I just want to go home now. Although, I’m not looking forward to the flight with these ears. They ache like mad,” she admitted. Her earshad only just started aching that morning, something she thought would pass if she kept clearing out her nasal passages and

“We could drive home,” “I can make Morgan take us back. He won’t mind.”

“I will mind. It’s three hours by jet, five by car,” Morgan teased, elbowing Spencer in the arm with hopes he took it as a piece of banter and nothing more than that, “no, I can do. Of course. We can grab a bite to eat on the way home, too.”

“No, flying is much quicker and I want to be home and in bed by nightfall,” YN assured, climbing into the car and scooting over to the far seat behind the front passenger chair, situating herself comfortably and clipping her seatbelt around her upper body, “I’ll just take some meds in a second and sleep it off as soon as we get on the jet.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, Spence,” she nodded and gave the seat beside her a pat with her finger tips, “let’s get home.”

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rejectclone · 4 years

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Even though I’ve never played Minecraft EVER in my life, since Steve got in smash I tried learning some general stuff about the series on the wiki and apparently there’s no ‘real’ lore to him??? I tried making some headcanons at least since I genuinely like the character potential he has!

* Steve seemed to originate out of virtually nowhere, just being spotted by some villagers one day and he seemed to just set up camp nearby, soon making a small house of his own.

* He is mute, but is still capable of writing in English and communicating with ASL. Unfortunately for him, villagers and other sentient humanoid species do not comprehend his hand gestures, and thinks he’s just messing around with them, much to his dismay.

* As for how he learned how to write and use ASL, he oddly doesn’t seem to remember. He assumes he learned it from his parents, and yet he doesn’t even remember their own faces.

* He claims that he is a orphan, as most of his childhood memories seem to be in a haze, and his stronger memories seem to exist from his mid-teenage years as he was already living off the land on his own.

* He is gifted in both mining and construction, and likes to dabble in alchemy. However he is still a rookie at it, and has accidentally ruined many important items by trying to place enchantments upon them.

* He doesn’t really have that many hobbies, as he’s always focused on maintaining his home, crops, animals, and safety, which is a constant 24/7 endeavor. Later on after exploring more villages and learning new lifestyle related information, he has taken up reading as a small hobby. This is where he first learned of preforming alchemy, as he once thought it was impossible to learn if you weren’t ‘gifted’ with it.

* He has seen his fair share of mobs, but the ones that seem to ALWAYS rock him to his core are oddly enough, the zombies. He claims that every time he even glances at one, he feels extreme discomfort. Perhaps it has to deal with most zombies originating of supposed human origin, and their uncanny valley-ness getting to his mind.

* Zombies honestly may be the closet thing to ‘other human beings’ in the area, as Steve seems to be the odd one out in terms of species. Villagers, Illagers, Endermen, and other sorts are in abundance, but not his own kind. He tries to not let this go to his head, but there has been plenty of nights of him suffering from touch-deficiency and total isolation.

* Even though he may be seen as a outsider to many, nobody can deny how much of a optimist he is. Constantly beaming with joy and always willing to help, he has become well known for being one of the most incredibly helpful people out there.

* However it is quite rare in which he comes off as incredibly stoic and even morose. When like this, the metaphysical aura he gives off is immediately powerful and extremely unsettling, to the point some usually hyper aggressive hostile mobs seem to notice this and actually leave him alone.

* Genuinely did not know WHAT a cake was. Learned about it and tried it for the first time from a farmer villager, and has been completely enamored since. Has developed a bit of a sweet tooth from consuming too much after learning about it, and now tries to eat cake moderately. He also enjoys pumpkin pie, but only during the fall months since it feels ‘more cozy feeling’. Ironically not a huge fan of cookies, and prefers the chocolate in them to be used in cakes.

* His favorite mobs to interact with are most of his own livestock! He owns pigs, cows, sheep, donkeys, and even a rabbit! However, chickens might be his top favorite, and thankfully he doesn’t really eat them and instead just takes advantage of their eggs and how fun and enjoyable it is to maintain them. Later on as he saw parrots for the first time in person, he has been in absolute love with them!

* Even though he does keep and maintain livestock, he is petrified by the concept of keeping a permanent house pet. He has actually tamed some wolves and cats in the past, but has endured too much heartbreak when they are accidentally killed when trying to defend him when undead mobs attack near their home. He always breaks down when burying their remains.

* He does own a horse, but is wary of using it since the last thing he wants to do is accidentally overstrain it and cause it any harm. He still cannot bear to see any more animals under his care go through any pain for him.

* He keeps a small beehive near his house, as he enjoys how their pollination leads to some beautiful flowers sprouting up around his home. He sometimes harvests their honey, but has been stung so many times that he’s not really willing to harvest honeycombs again. It took him quite some time to realize that he needed to use a campfire to calm the bees down, as before he just literally shoved his arm in the hive to get honeycombs.

* He will sometimes try to add new flowers that he discovers from his travels to his home’s makeshift garden, but eventually he really started to put more effort in having a visually pleasing garden and not just having a mess of various plants and flowers.

* Kinda thinks Creepers are cute, but is equally scared of their odd ability to explode violently. He has tried many times to tame them but always inadvertently scares them, soon prompting their unfortunate demise. He still has hope for possibly meeting a non-exploding Creeper one day, but will still keep his distance out of fear.

* He is a good swimmer, capable to dive to considerable depths, but refuses to go down to the deeper parts of the ocean such as the surface floor. Mainly out of concern from accidentally drowning by not being able to make it to the water’s surface in time, and also his distaste for looking at the Drowned as they also give him that ‘off’ feeling.

* He doesn’t mind crafting potions when needed, but feels like most of the time they’re quite unnecessary as they mainly take away the trill and inherent danger of exploring. He will cave in however and will use the Potion of Water Breathing and the Potion of Fire Resistance when he knows he’s heading into some riskier areas.

* As for how Steve met Alex, it was quite sudden actually. He was just out exploring when he saw them hunting in the distance, stalking some Skeletons. He assumed at first it was just some brave Villager, but soon noticed how their physical proportions seem to mirror his. After realizing that they ARE human, he was too shy and terrified to actually go up to them and introduce himself. What if they thought he was a creepy stalker? Or a Pillager?! It seems to be fate however when Alex was soon cornered and he threw himself into the fray to help. After the fight, the two awkwardly interacted, as Alex does speak English but didn’t realize that Steve was mute. Since then the two have interacted more and more, showing to each other their homes and various bases, along with trading goods and their own life stories to pass the time together. He does hold some romantic feelings for Alex, but holds it inside of him as he fears that expressing his love would inadvertently scare them away.

* His body is wracked with scars, all from various accidents and misadventures. Strangely however, he does have some scars that would only be created from fatal wounds, such as a arrow entry-wound scar directly over where his heart should be, or odd deep bite wounds around his neck. Steve always seems to shrug these scars off and claim that they’re usually from falling debris when mining, but it seems unlikely.

* He claims that he tends to suffer from randomly occurring nightmares, all ending in brutal deaths such as being burned alive in lava or being ripped to shreds by zombies. If you were to ask what happened before these events, he will explain that it feels ‘just like any other day’ before the death happens. He is completely oblivious to the fact that after each nightmare, a new scar seems to appear on his body.

* Sometime after Steve ‘moved in’ to the area, there has been some strange rumors of another human, a unusually hostile human..... Some Villagers claim it is a near splitting image of Steve, but they refuse to believe it’s him. After all, why would he become so....... brutal..... The few that managed to observe this human usually claim that his body is usually drenched in his own gore from being mauled, charred beyond belief, riddled with arrows and weapons still lodged in their flesh, or even fully drenched in seawater with them perpetually vomiting it and blood out. Others claim that this human has no pupils or iris, just a unsettling white void that almost appears ethereal-like.

* When addressing Steve about this odd human lurking around in this area, he is actually quite curious yet afraid about it. He met Alex by chance, as they’re more of a free roaming explorer, so perhaps this new human is akin to Alex’s more extreme traveling lifestyle? He does agree however on their reported violent behavior to be..... deeply unsettling....... setting Illagers on fire to only chop up their corpses in the end, disfiguring and torturing Witches with their own potions, purposely corralling Creepers together to cause a horrible chain reaction to occur that deeply scars the ground, drowning Endermen and proceeding to gouge out their eyes after the deed has been done......... certainly dark actions for a twisted individual. Steve thinks they might be observing him, as he has found trails of blood and other various fluids leading up to his house’s door every few days. He can only hope that if they were to meet one fateful day, he would be spared.

#really had fun writing these!!!!#minecraft #MC Steve #steve #mc alex #Alex #herobrine #vinyl scratching

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cryhardanddanceharder · 4 years

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Andy’s headcanons because we need to talk more about her:

She’s 6732 years old. She says she doesn’t remember her age, and it might be true, maybe she forgot to keep counting, but she thinks she’s somewhere between 6500 - 7000.

She’s a warrior since she’s a teenager, because the time she was borned was the “eye for eye, teeth for teeth” period.

She’s more an action person than a word person, because her first language was everything related to gestual actions. She can read body language better than anyone, so she can make you feel the more comfortable or uncomfortable you ever felt in your life depends the situation. She does little actions to show her love.

She’s ambidextrous. She can use her weapons perfectly with each one of her hands. (and later write too)

She’s been worshipped as a goddess at least in two or threes comunities she’s been part of. She actually thought she was a goddess at the beginning, because she was the only one who couldn’t die. But then, when years passes and she’s the only one not dying, but she loses all the people she loves and trascend generation after generation, she stops thinking it like a goddess thing and starts seeing it as a curse.

She used to wear clothes made of extinct animals skin, necklaces made with teeth, flowers and horns crowns.

When she was a goddess she had slaves, but once she overcome her goddess complex and realises how wrong it is (because all humans are equal, they all die no matter their social status, their nationality, their religion, skin color, gender, sexual preferences) she stops it. She starts fighting against it, every time she can. She still fight against it in the present time (human trafficking).

I feel like she could also been a slave or prisoner in some period time. Maybe as a punnish from her inmortality? Because mortals see her as a threat?

She loves storytelling and stargazing. That’s why in present time she loves to go camping, she loves sleeping outside. She’s so old that even she had seen the sky change. The stars constellations changes but she learns those changes. There is something comforting about stargazing, so she keeps doing it.

She has very good location sense. She can always find the way to get to where she wants to go.

She’s been there when the first language was created, that’s why it’s easy for her to learn new languages.

She was there when the pyramids of Egypt were built, maybe she worked in the construiction of one of them (?

She’s gender fluid and bisexual (or could be pansexual).

She knew the Sahara dessert before it becomes a dessert. She knew it with trees and vegetation.

She loves horses more than (most) people.

She was the lider of the scythians.

Her name “Andromache” comes from all the legends, that actually are true. She’s the amazon who defeated Heracles and once upon a time she was married to Hector of Troy.

She was the one who trained the amazon warriors on how to be warriors.

She was a gladiator for some time and had fights in the roman colliseum.

She writes mixing languages, because why not? That’s how her thoughts are anyway, in mixing languages. “Let’s put this word in scythian, and that one in greek, and the other in saumerian or tamil, and let’s finish in italian because italy it’s actually the country i am at the moment”.

When she starts dreaming about Quynh she thinks she’s crazy, untill she starts dreaming about Lykon too. She tried to indentify wich languages they speak in the dreams, so she could learn them before meeting them.

She met Jesus once. She doesn’t find him that special. He didn’t come back to life, at least not in the way inmortals do.

Lykon, Quynh and her have a chaotic dynamic. They always die to save the others, to save them from the pain; wich in some way it’s ridiculous because they are all inmortal. But they always fight about it like children.

She can speak all the languages (even those that are extinct), only she sometimes forget how to speak in some of them, but remembers once she hears someone speaking it.

She knows more way to kill than entire armies will ever learn.

She can use any kind and type of weapon. She’s as good as archer as Quynh and as good as a sniper as Nicky, but if she can choose another weapon she will do because she prefers hand and hand combat.

She feels every death. She might have been a warrior all her life, but she doesn’t take pleassure on killing. We can see that in the church scene, her face tells us all how much it takes from her to be that lethal.

She’s very protective of the others inmortals. They are her family. And she feels like she has to protect them, because she has been alone for so long that she doesn’t want to take chances on that ever happening again.

She’s become more protective after Lykon’s death, because now they know even them don’t last forever. She wants to protect the time she has with the other and thinks the best way to do it is to be the one who always goes first.

She hates to dream about Nicolo and Yusuf at the begining because it hurts her to see them killing each other. For someone who has been alone for so long, it hurts to see that. Because for her they are lucky to have started their inmortality together.

Lots of deaths and trauma. She probably been raped at least once.

She died from dehydratation and hunger more times that she can count. That’s why she’s not picky with food, she’s happy as long there is something in front of her to eat. She can cook good enough, but she’s not fan of doing it.

She died from every tipe of weapon: spears, swords, arrows, axes, throwing stones, daggers, knives, cannons, guns, grenades, bombs. Also she died from being dismembered, from being hanged and burn alive.

Once Quynh’s is taken to her ocean prison, Andy was tortured and burned alive. They chose water methods for Quynh and fire methods for Andy.

She have tried to kill herself sometimes when she was depressed. They way i see it probably three times: one when she found out her inmortality and wanted to see how it worked, two when she lose her goddess complex and was tired of being alone for so long, and three after she realised that finding Quynh was impossible.

She spent lot of years looking for Quynh with Joe and Nicky, untill they realised it’s an impossible mission. She still checks new technological inventions and andvances to see if they have a chance. But as long as she knows it’s impossible and technology doesn’t help, even the marines and ocean experts says it would be easier to find something in the moon than in the bottom of the ocean.

The only time she prayed in her life was to ask for Quynh’s death, so she would stop suffering from constantly drowning. And for hers, because she doesn’t want to keep living without Quynh.

She keeps Quynh’s belongings saved in one of her fav caves.

She likes wearing things from the other inmortals because it gives her comfort and help her feel ground. She always wears Quynh’s necklace. And sometimes she wears Joe’s cap, Nicky’s hoodie, Booker’s jackets. She also shares t-shirts with them, or more like stole t-shirts from them.

Wars she probably fighted in: Achaemenid conquest of the Indus Valley, Corsica civil war, war between Corinth and Corzira, Expedition of the Ten Thousand, Latin wars, First Peloponnesian War, First medical war, Thasos Rebellion, Roman-Etruscan wars, Samos War, Second medical war, Wars of Veii, Trojan war, Sicilian wars, Alexander The Great conquest of Persia, An Lushan Rebellion, Mongol Conquests, Conquests of Tamerlane, Qing dynasty conquest of Ming dynasty, Dungan revolt, Hundred Years’ War, World War I, Russian Civil War, Ten Years’ War, World War II, Vietnam War, Afghanistan War.

Some modern revolutions and independence processes she possibly was/could be: French Revolution, Haitian independence, USA independence, Russian Revolution, Cuba revolution, LATAM independences, India independence, Australia independence, New Zeland Independence, Africans independences.

She died from electrocution, trying to find out how electricity works.

She died learning to drive a car and learning to pilot a plain.

In World War II she was a pilot of the night witches.

Baklava and really anything that is sweet are her comfort food.

The first time she had ice cream she became a fan and only eat ice cream for like an entire year.

She likes percussion music: all types of drums, cymballs, tambourine, maracas, bongos, castanets.

She likes theater more than cinema.

She likes tea more than coffee.

She can sleep everywhere. A chair? Good. The floor? Good. The earth and grass in the middle of nowhere? Good. A cave? Good. A tree? Good. The train. Good. A Car? Good. The bus? Good. A plain? Good. The couch? Good. An armchair? Good. All is good. Sleep when you can moto is big on her, because beds are a modern concept she still can’t fully incorporate. And without Quynh doesn’t feel like doing it.

She’s very good on learning new things because she’s used to everything constantly changing. And when she finds something hard to learn she is patient, after all she has all the time on the world to learn it and master it (she’s kinda perfectionist).

She’s okay with technology, she could understand more if she wanted to. But she let’s Booker have that place and handle it, because she sense he needs to have something as his responsability to feel he’s useful to the team.

There’s personal things (clothes, weapons, paintings) of her in lot of museums. Joe and Nicky would try to recover some things of her (and them) from time to time.

Hard on the outside, soft on the inside. Ironic and dark humor.

She’s the best at dissapearing when the team takes time out of their missions, if she doesn’t want to be found there is no way you could find her.

She’s been nomad most of her life. She can’t stop moving. She loves traveling with no destination in mind, just for the act of it.

She gives up sometimes because she’s old and she’s tired, but if you give her a good reason to keep fighting she’s all in.

She has the biggest heart (even if she tries to hide it) and actually loves humanity, if not she wouldn’t have fight for so long… and still does.

(if you want to read more headcanons: here are the ones i have for Quynh)

#if you have more headcanons please share them with me #andromache the scythian #the eternal warrior #fav ♥#the old guard #tog headcanons #andy's headcanons #some of these headcanons are actually inspired in my tog fic a million ways to die #sorry if there are any typos #english is not my first language #andy defense squad #andromaquynh #should i do andromaquynh headcanons after this?

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majorxmaggiexboy · 3 years

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idk if i’m actually going to attempt to participate but i still want to make a little list of Tober/Tember prompts and ideas of what to do with them. also tagging @f-ro-g bc New Pack. Every time i do one of these i start forgetting every media i’ve ever consumed so we’re going to see if i can at least get more than like three different fandoms on here. Might or might not come back through and flesh these out with actual details later on.

Whumptober Ideas

1) All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go/”You have to let go”/Barbed Wire/Bound - Hadestown, full stop. The whole prompt is Hadestown. It’s in the lyrics, even. It is this post that makes me finally notice the “Keep on walking and don’t look back” line in Wait For Me and i’m so angry right now

2) Talking is Overrated/Garotte/Choking/Gagged - I’m thinking a rewrite of my first Three Musketeers fic just because it was funny the first time around and also wouldn’t take much Effort. Next.

3) Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But.../Taunting/Insults/”Who did this to you?”

The Bradmadge Brawl of S2E1 but with passion and malice next question

4) Trust Fall/”Do you trust me?”/Taken Hostage/Pushed

Nothing springs immediately to mind but i’m leaning toward Psych or The New Pack

5) Red In My Ledger/Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

*slams hand on table* New Pack. Mordaunt. It writes itself.

6) Touch and Go/Bruises/Touch-Starved/Hunger

On-Drakon we’re going to give Arman and Mira some love even if only two people on this website even know them.

7) My Spidey-Sense is Tingling/Helplessness/Numbness/Blindness

TASM just for the sake of it? Undecided

8) Coughing Up a Lung/Pneumothorax/Exotic Illness/”Definitely Just a Cold”

Ben Tallmadge and the Delaware Dive next question

9) Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated/Presumed Dead/Blind Rage/Tears

Bucky it’s your turn babe

10) Oops, I Did It Again/Hospital/Flare-Up/Ice Chips

Ben you’re going back in the Delaware it’ll be so funny

11) Just Keep Swimming/Adrift/Drowning/Dehydration

Personally i think having a third Ben vs. Water fic would be the funniest possible move but Grimaud or Mordaunt could also work here

12) It’ll Be Fun, They Said/Torture/Made to Watch/Begging

Jean-Olivier comes to mind but hmmmmm there was also that one TURN S3 au that could work

13) That’s Gonna Leave a Mark/This Is Gonna Suck/Burns/Cauterization

Hmmmmmm OH! OH! Raoul! The New Pack. Done.

14) Under Pressure/Crush Injuries/Beaten/Force

It says Force and Force is Star Wars so naturally this is Mando’s number.

15) Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever/Delirium/Fever Dream/Bees

Ben Tallmadge guess what....

16) On a Need-to-Know Basis/Recovery/Scars/Aftermath

I’m thinking the Psych Not-Ghost AU would work here but there are certainly other options.

17) Field-Care 101/”Please don’t move!”/Hemorrhage/Dread

Might go with something Leverage right here just because i just watched Leverage. Nothing’s jumping immediately to mind. Warm Bodies could also work though.

18) The Doctor is In/”Now smile for the camera!”/Doctor’s visit/CPR

I’m thinking Reid just because Dr. and i’ve never been able to write Doctor Who so. What other Doctor characters are there. McStuffins isn’t in the running here. Oh! We could do something MCU, Bruce is a Doctor isn’t he? God can you imagine Dr. Hulk trying to

19) Just a Scratch/Bitten/Bleeding/Stabbing

Didn’t ... d’Artagnan once utter the phrase “it’s just a scratch” in relation to someth.....first episode, i think? Great so we have a winner, good job everybody.

20) Lost & Found/Trunk/Trapped underwater/Solitary Confinement

Weirdly Mando is the first character to come to mind. Someone beat me to 80% of my other idea but there’s potential.

21) That’s Where the Blood’s Supposed to Be/Bleeding Through Bandages/Pressure/Blood-Matted Hair

Let’s be real the only two options for this one are Bucky or Eliot and they’re virtually the same character so where does that leave me

22) They Made Me Do It/Cursed/Demon/Obsession

*vague wave* Merlin ?

23) You Break It, You Buy It/Auction/Ransom/Pursuit

That one 3M au with Athos and the big mix-up and the Oops and all the...stuff, yeah. That works.

24) One Down, Two to Go/Self-Induced Injuries to Escape/Flashback/Revenge

Holy sh- i didn’t see this one initially. I mean? Jean? Ow.

25) Hide & Seek/Escape/Flight/Hiding

Psych? Orrrrr....TGM?

26) You Will Go Down With This Ship/Fallen/Waterfall/Trap Door

I’m trying to think of literally anything i’ve ever read or watched that’s got a ship in it ummmmmmm hey what if we interpret “ship” as yeaaaah let’s do another Mando one that’ll work

27) “I’m Fine, I Prom...”/Passing Out/Vertigo/Collapse

I mean..... .... ... is there a character this doesn’t work for though? Wait. No actually let’s do Childermass since he gets that what is it an allergic reaction to magic? I mean i know Segundus gets like that to so....ha let’s make it be Both of them.

28) It’s Not Just In Your Head/”Good, you’re finally awake”/Nightmares/Panic

First thought is New Pack but it might take some pondering.

29) All Work and No Play/”You’re still not dead?”/Too weak to move/overworked

it’s like Civil War but with Bucky and Jean-Olivier having an all-out brawl good lord it’s an either/or situation.

30) Digging Your Grave/Major Character Death/Left For Dead/Ghosts

*shot of choc milk* the exact TURN AU i was Just thinking about yesterday,,,

31) Hurt & Comfort/Disaster Zone/Trauma/Prisoner

I feel like i need to put Gwynplaine here just because he hasn’t had a turn yet

Alt. Prompts

1) Losing Control

Arman. Very obviously extramuch Arman definitely. Let’s have another one with the involuntary dragon himbo.

2) Threats

*chin hands* trying to think of a character who gets threatened a lot. will circle back. I’m actually thinking Psych again but idk.

3) Caning

Ro we’ve genuinely discussed about 16 different variations on this one i think it’s Time

4) Mercy

MORDAUNT MORDAUNT NEXT QUESTION

5) Forgotten

Is it time for Jack Frost of all people to make an appearance or is this just Bucky again

6) Head Injury

It would be real easy to just put the headbonk au here but i’m going to try to show some restraint and do a different headbonk story

7) Screaming

Going to assign Gwynplaine here just because he really has been neglected in this lineup and also it would probably be good for him to vent a little bit in this manner

8) Comfort

Someone’s going to get petted like a cat and i just haven’t decided whomst but when i do it’s over for everybody

9) Self-Sacrifice

What do i even say to that i Feels like another New Pack but it’s still up for grabs tbh

10) Trapped

Tempted to pour one out and just say Bucky but idk idk we’ll think of something this is very much a first draft stream of thought general idea planning session

11) Near Death Experience

It would be hilarious to just put something like Meet Joe Black for this one but WAIT NO NO GO BACK ACTUALLY WARM BODIES LET’S DO WARM BODIES

12) Regret

It’s gotta either be Psych or TURN

13) Tragedy

My first thought is to do a damn Hannibal fic without ever having actually watched the show just because i’m still angry about how i read it ended but considering that i only know the characters’ voices from tumblr chatposts i feel like that’s not the best venue to

heck we might just do New Pack

14) Battlefield

Either TURN or New Pack or....the song’s a little bit dramatic for a Bucky but actually....unless? no....but Maybe,

15) Anxiety

Every character i’ve ever cared about could potentially fit right here so :/ Arman could have 3rd ficlet but again, literally every character, i,,,,,they’ve all got anxiety X’D

#long post

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holyhellpod · 4 years

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Heyoooo, it’s another episode of Holy Hell! This one is dedicated to the manchild himself, Dean Winchester.

Apple | Google | Spotify | Instagram | Patreon

Transcript below!

CW: discussions of child abuse, child death, suicide, alcoholism, family trauma, mental health

[Music]

Dean Winchester is, in a word, my soulmate. I started kinning him when the show aired in Australia on Fox8 and I have not been the same since. From his devil-may-care attitude to his undying love for his family that pierces the veil of death to save the day, he really is the most. I have to say at the beginning that this episode of Holy Hell will not include discussions of Dean’s sexuality and gender. I’m saving that for its own episode, so stay tuned my pals.

What we know of Dean as he develops over the course of the first episode is: he’s been hunting, and hunting alone, he’s 26 years old, he drives a sweet ‘67 Impala, he wears an old leather jacket, he listens to 1980s metal, and he has an arsenal of weapons and supernatural fighting talismans in his trunk. He’s also a smartarse, one of his most endearing qualities. He gets defensive about their mother and her death, and he defends their father over and over. He’s a loyal son and brother. The impetus to bring Sam back into the hunting life, after Sam decided for good that he was going to leave, is to bring his fambily back together.

The quality that defines Dean Winchester is how much he loves he loves his fambily. In the first episode, he is so worried about his father that he recruits Sam to help look for him, even though Sam and Dean haven’t spoken in two years, and Sam ran away to college rather than continue to live with their father. He spends most of the first season defending their father, but when John comes back and starts arguing with Sam, Dean protects his brother from John. It’s one of the most significant examples of character growth Dean undergoes throughout the entire series, and it’s where his loyalty shifts from John to Sam.

In the episode of season 2, “Croatoan,” Dean decides not to shoot Sam when Sam contracts the Croatoan virus which turns people rabid and makes them kill. In the next episode, “Hunted”, Dean reveals that John told him to kill Sam if Dean couldn’t save him. But Dean doesn’t. He says that John begged Dean not to tell Sam, but it’s not John’s words that keep Dean silent. It’s his love for Sam and Sam’s wellbeing. And this brotherly love slash codependency is used by characters throughout the entire series, from the demons in season 1 to the literal character of God in season 15, to manipulate Dean and Sam. As many characters have pointed out, including Dean and Sam themselves, they are each other’s weak points.

At the end of season two, when Sam dies from a stab wound in his spine, Dean trades his own life for Sam’s. He makes a deal with a crossroads demon—his soul for Sam’s life—and subsequently dies and goes to hell at the end of season 3. Dean literally dies a gruesome death and spends forty years being tortured in hell because he couldn’t live without Sam. At the end of Season 8, Sam is dying from the effects of the trials, which he undergoes in order to close the gates of hell, and Dean convinces him to stop because, again, he can’t live without Sam. Sidenote: this is where I stopped being interested in their brotherly dynamic to the point of losing interest in the show. It became clear to me that the showrunners were more concerned with rehashing the same tired storylines between Sam and Dean than focus on characters who could expand the world and make the show better. In fact, they killed a lot of the interesting side characters in order to keep the show solely focused on the brothers. The exception to this is Castiel, and the reason they kept Cas around is because when he died in season 7 the ratings tanked. If that wasn’t a clear enough sign that the showrunners needed to open up the show to more than just Sam and Dean’s caustic dynamic in which they die and kill for and then betray and lie to each other over and over, then I just don’t know what the fans could have done to convince them. Nothing, apparently, because they ended the show with just Sam and Dean.

Dean’s relationship with John is fraught with insecurity and codependency. Dean has so little sense of self that what he does consider to be his carefully curated list of likes and dislikes were inherited directly from John: his car, his leather jacket, his hunting abilities, and his music taste. He also throws himself into hunts without any regard for his own safety, because he doesn’t believe that he is worth saving, or that his life is worth living. His personality is crafted from both John’s reliance on him as a son, hunter and partner in crime, and the woman he assumes Mary to be. Dean’s sense of self-worth relies on how many people he can save. This is why, in season 2 episode “What is and what should never be,” Dean’s dream reality is one in which he’s a low life loser who disappoints his family—because without John pushing him to be a hunter, Dean doesn’t save people, and because he doesn’t save people, he isn’t worth anything. Bear in mind that this is the best reality Dean’s mind could conjure for him: one in which his father is dead, and he himself is not worth saving.

In one of the most famous exchanges, he asks Cas why an angel would rescue him from hell, and Cas replies, “What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Twenty-nine years of bluster, insouciance, and a give-em-hell attitude crumbles in two sentences, wrought by a being Dean refuses to believe exists because, again, he doesn’t think that he deserves to be saved by them. He says, “[Why me? I don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties, let alone by God].” He thinks of himself so lowly that he accepted a one-year deal in exchange for Sam being alive. Dean cares so much about his family he lets it kill him.

But it’s not just Sam, Mary and John. Dean’s family grows to encompass a number of side characters: most notably Bobby their surrogate father, Charlie Bradbury the hacker, Claire Novak, Jack Kline, and Lisa and Ben Braeden. Even Mary makes another appearance in seasons 12 to 14. Unfortunately, because the show is the way it is, Dean puts Sam above all of these side characters, and then these characters are written out of the show. I should specify that Cas is not a side character; in most seasons, Misha Collins is billed as a main cast member, with his name appearing after Jensen Ackles in the credits. But he still dies in the third-last episode in order to have the show stay about the brothers. Even Jack, inarguably Cas and Dean’s son, is written out of the show in the second-last episode after dying multiple times. I say inarguably because I am not gonna argue with anyone about this. Claire and Jack are Dean and Cas’s kids. Dean and Cas are great parents who chaperone Jack’s prom and buy Claire her first hunting bow. They’re all one big happy, queer, neurodivergent family.

Dean loves the people in his life with reckless abandon. The times he’s excused Cas’s behaviour after Cas has done something ridiculous or foolish are too many to count. He grieves Cas’s multiple deaths, often succumbing to his alcoholism and entropy whenever Cas leaves him for more than a day. In a truly beautiful scene, Dean wraps Cas’s corpse in a curtain and watches, utterly and completely devastated, as his body burns. By this point, they have done so much for each other that it’s impossible to even envision the show without Cas, and indeed imagine Dean without his love for Cas. And we don’t have to for very long, as he always comes back a few episodes later. Even knowing this, the episodes where Dean mourns Cas are so heartbreaking and haunting that I cried for days after watching them.

Dean is great with kids, and every time he’s not is completely the fault of whoever is writing him in any given episode. We see him bonding with Lisa’s son Ben in season 3 and 6, Jesse in the season 5 episode “I Believe The Children Are Our Future,” and Lucas in the season one episode “Dead in the water”. With every child he meets, Dean gets on their level, empathising with them in a way most adults can’t. Like Claire and Jack, Dean has a complicated relationship with his father, who dies in the beginning of season 2 after bargaining his soul for Dean’s life to the demon that took their mother. Just like anyone else’s life, right? Must be Tuesday. This means Dean can relate to most children with traumatic backgrounds involving their parents, as a victim of parental abuse and having his mother die at age 4. I can’t find any sources to back this up, but a theory that rolled around in fandom was that Dean became mute after Mary died, which is what happens to Lucas after his father drowns. He says in “Dead In the Water” that he loves kids, and it’s true. As one tumblr user put it, Dean wanted to be baby trapped.

Dean carries the deaths and pain of his loved ones with him like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. When Claire is bitten by a werewolf, the characters administer blood of the sire wolf that bit her in order to cure her of her lycanthropy. Dean has to leave the room while she’s in pain, because he can’t bear to watch her die. The same goes for when Jack dies. Thankfully, Claire lives and Jack comes back a few episodes later.

When thinking about Dean being a father, I’m reminded of that scene from Scrubs when Dr Cox says he’s worried about being a father because his own dad was an abusive alcoholic. The difference between Dr Cox and Dean is that Dean doesn’t have his reservations about raising kids. He fits into Lisa and Ben’s life easily, at least for the first year, and we see a montage which includes him teaching Ben how to fix cars. When Claire lets her guard down enough to hug Dean, he hugs back just as hard. When he finally deals with the trauma of Cas dying in season 13, he accepts Jack into his life, and even grieves Jack when he dies. Dean escapes the intergenerational trauma that plagues his family by being a fantastic dad to the random kids who happen into his life by chance. He was born to be a father, and the fact that this show took that away from him and us as the audience makes me want to kick the showrunners into the sun.

Until season 6, Dean’s family only included men. The concept of the nuclear family—two sons, a husband and a wife—was ripped apart in the prologue of the first episode when Mary dies. Dean doesn’t know family for the first 5 seasons of the show outside Sam, John, Cas and Bobby. I do consider Ellen and Jo to be important to the story, but they’re only in a handful of episodes and die in season 5 for a reason that is plainly ridiculous. Did the Winchesters have to lose every single person in their lives to the fight? Clearly Kripke thought they were going to be cancelled after the fifth season, because it shows. And honestly? Maybe they should have. Let’s retroactively cancel the whole show. It can’t hold power over us anymore, because it’s dead and we cremated it.

But when Dean moves in with Lisa and Ben, he discovers a new type of family he didn’t have before, and new family dynamics. Instead of the 28-year-old son that Sam is to him, he takes the opportunity to teach Ben about cars and spend time with him and Lisa without the need to hunt. He gets a job, he makes some friends, and he lives the safe, apple pie life he begrudged Sam for in the pilot episode. It’s only when Sam reappears in his life that Dean’s codependency strikes again and he realises that he can’t live half in the normal world with Lisa and Ben and half in the hunting world with Sam. Sam says this himself in the first episode of Season 6, “Exile On Main Street”. Despite the ways Dean tried to settle down throughout the rest of the 9 seasons, the showrunners ultimately decided a man who was healing from trauma and alcoholism, who had adopted two kids as his own, and was learning how to bake cakes for his son’s birthday, deserved to die at the ripe age of 40, a week or so after he’d learned that his best friend was in love with him. You gotta laugh. Instead of getting the ending both Dean and we deserved—which was Dean settling down, opening a bar, and living the next forty years in relative gay peace while he got fat and watched Cheers reruns—well, we got something else. And I will always be bitter about that.

While it’s clear from the first season that he has reckless and suicidal tendencies, he doesn’t stop fighting to the bitter end. Even when faced with his own impending death in the season 2 premiere, “In my time of dying,” he fights to stay alive for Sam and John, while working the mystery that is overcoming his own death. Devastated as he is by Sam diving into hell at the end of season 5 and seemingly gone for good, Dean still gets up everyday and makes a life for himself in Lisa’s home. While season 6 was overall a bummer of a season, just god-awful in every aspect, saved from my complete vitriol only by “The French Mistake,” it did show us how great a dad Dean can be, and readied us for what was to come—being Claire and Jack’s dad. The lengths he goes to for his family are immense and all-consuming. As Cas says in “Despair”, Dean is a being of love. He loves everyone else, even when he can’t find it in him to love himself. He really thinks that he’s just a killer, not a father or a husband.

I’ve never subscribed to the idea that we have to love ourselves before we can love anyone else, or before anyone else can love us. Sorry Rupaul, you old bitch. We are all deserving of love, because love sustains us and helps us grow. And when we don’t know how to, it’s through loving others that we can learn to love ourselves. If Dean knew what a great father and friend and husband and brother he is, if he could see himself the way others, in the show and out of it, see him, I think he’d burst. You don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties? Well tough shit, Dean Winchester, because I’m gonna devote an entire podcast to you.

I talked about Dean’s carefully curated list of likes and dislikes before but I’ll go into more detail now. Things he likes: guns; rock and roll; nice cars; women; fighting; scamming people at pool; back alley blowjobs, probably; pie; driving across the country; Ozzy concerts; cowboy movies; being in control of every little thing in his life. His dislikes are: flying on planes; hair metal; angels and demons; anyone who harms his brother, his best friend or his kids; boredom; and being jerked around.

Okay I literally cannot talk about the cowboy movies without mentioning that he makes Cas watch them with him, in his Deancave, and the implications of that make my head roll off my body and into the dirt. Like they literally have gay little movie nights and watch their gay little cowboy movies together and Dean says all the gay little lines. I said I wasn’t going to talk about his sexuality, but mentioning cowboy movies leads to Cas wearing a cowboy hat and saying “I’m your Huckleberry.” This makes me insane. Excuse me, I must have my daily scream.

Okay, I’ve collected myself. Have I? Let’s just move on. In the Winchester tradition of inherited family trauma, Dean gets all of John’s interests, and Sam gets all of John’s mistakes. Dean’s personality throughout the show is basically quippy remarks, pop culture references, laughing with food in his mouth, and grouchiness. In case you haven’t realised, he is amazing to me. Every time he fires a rifle or pistol? Couldn’t be better. Eating a burger made of out donuts? Fucking incredible. Even when faced with beings with untold power, he doesn’t lose his cool. One of my favourite exchanges is when Zachariah comes to Chuck’s house in the first episode of season 5, “Sympathy For The Devil,” and starts soliloquising at him, Dean tells him to “cram it with walnuts, ugly.” Cram it with walnuts, ugly. It’s been ten years and that still makes me laugh. Top ten Dean lines for sure. Like all of my main characters throughout the years of writing original fiction are just “Dean Winchester but girl,” and I’m a good writer, but I can never come close to the level of hilarity that he achieves. And every single writer on the show seems to get that. The only times I can think of where Dean’s characterisation has irked me on a writing level are in season 6—basically the entire thing—and the way he treats Jack in the later seasons, specifically late season 15. But it’s really rare for me to watch an episode and not enjoy Dean. Even throughout the Mark Of Cain era, which I loved, when things were very serious, he had such style and panache and held himself so confidently that I was like, wait maybe he made some points? Maybe he should kill everyone?

Dean is a hunter and a killer, but that’s not all he is. He’s very skilled in hand to hand combat, weaponry, and tactical manoeuvres. Even when something doesn’t go exactly to plan, he’s usually able to improvise something to end up with a win. Because he is the main character, his choices and reactions, while sometimes extremely problematic, are never questioned, and that’s to his detriment. In the last episode of season 14, “Moriah,” Dean is unable to kill Jack, but in early season 15, he treats Jack’s betrayal as Cas’s fault, because he can’t take it out on Jack. Cas leaves, but it’s framed as a good thing because Cas is Jack’s father, and has to take responsibility for what Jack has done. In this instance, I don’t blame Cas at all. Okay I rarely blame Cas for anything, including the things he’s done wrong, because no he didn’t and you can’t prove it. But he especially didn’t do anything wrong when Jack killed Mary, and he didn’t do anything wrong by killing Belphagor. But by the middle of the season, in the episode “The Trap,” Dean admits his wrongdoing in taking his anger out on Cas, one of the only people who loves him without conditions. You’d think this would be a defining moment of character progression, but then Dean chooses to act exactly the same way by throwing Jack under the bus. Like, throwing him harder, under a bigger bus. So what was the point.

Anyway, those are choices the writers made, and not Dean.

Going back to what I was saying about being neurodivergent, Dean has adhd. I know this because I have adhd, and I’m Dean-coded. He’s wildly creative, impulsive, has a touch of OCD, and he has a hard time making long-lasting friends, although this is mostly due to how all his friends die. His best friend is an autistic angel and the only reason they’re still friends is because they’re obsessed with each other, in like a really unhealthy way. One of the funny things about his and Cas’s relationship is that every time you see them in the same shot, Cas is standing perfectly still and Dean is constantly moving. They are almost complete opposites, aside from their queerness and neurodivergence. But then, I haven’t met a single queer person in my entire life who isn’t neurodivergent or disabled in some way. That doesn’t mean we can’t live perfectly functional and normal lives, it just means we’re better than everyone else.

Dean also exhibits black and white thinking—to him all felons are redeemable and all monsters should be killed. Felons are redeemable because he himself is a felon, and monsters should be killed because they all do monstrous things. When faced with the possibility of angels being real, he refuses to believe it for the first two episodes, because, as he says, “he’s never seen one.” Eventually he learns how to see in shades of grey and not kill every monster he meets, but this is because of his time in purgatory with Benny, his Cajun vampire boyfriend.

Another sign of Dean’s ADHD is physical sensitivity. In the season one episode “Bugs,” he comments on the shower’s water pressure. Like it’s a big deal to him, when he’s only ever used 1-star motel room showers. In the later seasons, he’s also seen to wear a fluffy robe and soft pajamas with hotdogs on them and socks that say “Send Noods” but noods spelt like noodles. And so he should! Dean deserves comfort! He’s a special boy.

ADHDers often have problems with executive function—remembering appointments, cleaning up after ourselves, showering, eating, even going to the toilet when we need to pee. The hunting life excludes Dean from the normal functions of usual life, such as dentist appointments, dropping the kids off at school, meal prepping for the week, or turning up to a job on time. These were only factors in Dean’s life during the gap between seasons 5 and 6 when he lived with Lisa and Ben, and it’s not shown how his executive dysfunction impacted his suburban, settled life, but Lisa does mention that Dean drinks a lot. It’s another thing he inherited from John, much as I did my alcoholism from my father, and my adhd too. But Sam doesn’t drink to excess more than a handful of times over the entire 15 seasons, whereas Dean subsists on alcohol to get through the day. At one point in season 11, I’m pretty sure, don’t fact check me, he is shown to be drinking a beer at about 10 in the morning, because, as he says to Sam, “You drank all the coffee. What do you want me to do? Drink water?” Dean your liver must be quaking.

Excess is a common problem for people with ADHD. We have problems with limiting ourselves—because our dopamine machine broke, anything that gives us a little bit of high—such as sugar, sex, alcohol, stimulants, any kind of food that is bad for us but tastes real good—we usually have it in excess because we can’t help ourselves. In the season 4 episode “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester,” Dean eats the entirety of the candy in the Impala. The only reasons I don’t eat everything in my fridge every day is because, one, I don’t have the money, and two, it’s all ingredients I have to prepare and not ready-made food. Whereas Dean has only known fast food for the first 10 or so seasons until he starts cooking and baking and settling into domesticity. Like anyone who gets UberEats every day instead of cooking for themselves knows how expensive that is. He also engages in meaningless sex, although people have pointed that Sam actually gets more on screen action than Dean. But I know a lot of amab people who engage in casual sex with randos because it satisfies a base need. Dean could be classified as hypersexual in some regards, but I know what hypersexuality feels like and it’s like this overwhelming miasma where you can’t think about anything except how horny you are, and I don’t think Dean has that normally. Maybe when he was a demon in season 10, but generally I think he can control himself.

His settled life in the men of letters Bunker is a far cry from his flashbacks in season 8 to Purgatory. From what we know of purgatory, the land of gods and monsters, it was a year-long monster hunt, but without any of the boring paperwork. Dean got to fight and kill as many vampires, ghouls, leviathan, etc as came his way, which is why it’s absolutely ridiculous that he died by rebar in a vampire fight. He spent an entire year spilling blood and chopping off heads, day and night, and he dies by metal bar to the spine? And he’s not even coughing up blood? Andrew Dabb, I’m coming for you. Of course purgatory is the perfect place for Dean because it’s constant adrenaline, constant excitement, constant stimulation, which is what every day life lacks. Even Dean’s every day life is like, 20% monster killing and the rest is leg work. They go weeks or months between cases, and sometimes don’t find the monster at all. So I’m not surprised he gets bored easily and drinks. Would if I could too, my pal.

Which leads me onto Dwelling. Dean dwells on the horrors of his life in a way I do and my carefree older brothers don’t. In the season 4 episode “Heaven and Hell,” he reveals to Sam that he remembers his entire forty years in hell, and there are flashes of his memory littered throughout the season in creepy, split-second increments. He dwells on the people who die, doing his thousand-yard stare into the funeral pyre of everyone they cremate. In the most egregious display of dwelling, he rewrites history TWICE to deal with his grief — in season 8 he makes himself believe that it was his fault Cas didn’t come back from purgatory with him, and again in season 13 he invents the story of Jack controlling Cas to deal with his grief over Cas’s death. His PTSD twists the truth until it becomes another way to torture himself, because if someone gets hurt it’s on him; everyone who loves him is just one more person to disappoint.

On a lighter note, Hyperfixations, equivalent to Autism special interests, are a common trait of ADHD. Some of Dean’s hyperfixations include: hunting in general; cowboys and cowboy movies; the musical Rent; the movie Braveheart; larping. He loves dressing up and acting, and what is putting on a monkey suit and lying about being a Fed if not larping? Oh god the meta of that coupled with the season 4 episode “The Monster At The End Of This Book” is making my head hurt. And actually, the next episode of Holy Hell is on the subject of meta-textuality so stick around if that’s something you enjoy.

One of the amazing things about ADHD is creativity. Since we’re easily bored and easily amused, we’re constantly pushing the boundaries of our curiosity. In season three episode “Bloodlust,” Dean decapitates a vampire with a miter saw, something that even veteran vampire hunter Gordon Walker comments is a thing of beauty. Dean creates a Ma’lak box in season 14 episode “Damaged Goods” as a way to contain Michael if he ever inhabits Dean’s body again. Dean is always making up words like “were-pire” and “Jefferson Starships,” and he has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of pop culture, which he references in almost every line of dialogue. Like tv and movies raised me, but even I don’t understand a lot of his references. It’s almost like he’s a character in a tv show being written by dozens of people. But that’s not right. He’s a real person and my friend. My friend Dean Winchester, who shouts me burgers and passes out on my couch.

Also, I’m bragging now but as of the day of writing this I got my ADHD diagnosis and it feels so good to have a doctor, a psychiatrist in fact, confirm my belief. After about three or four years of figuring out I have adhd and then trying to make everyone else believe me when I say I do, it feels like a huge weight off. Dean deserved to feel that. He deserves to put a name to his differences and be in charge of his life instead of letting his anger, confusion and impulses control him. If anyone is worried that you might have something and don’t know whether to pursue a diagnosis, my two cents are that it has only improved my life. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder in 2014 and it allowed me to go on medication, which snapped me out of the worst period of anxiety I have ever gone through and also a psychotic episode that featured talking walls and a swarm of Christmas beetles. Trust me, we all need help sometimes, and some people like me need more help than others, but you can take control of the forces in your life that hold you back. As my mother used to say to me when I was a child, the world is your oyster. It really fucking does get better, and since I started on the right anti-depressants for me my life has improved so goddamn much. The world is fucked right now, and it’s impossible to even function on most levels. We all need therapy. I myself have a gp, a psychiatrist, and a psychologist and they keep me relatively sane. I would not be alive if I didn’t have years and years of ongoing therapy and good drugs. Plus I journal everyday and practice gratitude. I’m still crazy but the craziness is contained and doesn’t hurt me anymore.

Despite never going to therapy, Dean grows from being a loner with one friend (his own brother) to someone with a wealth of connections and family. He picks up new people to love like he’s velcro, and when he goes in he goes all in. He would die for the people he loves. He’s constantly putting himself in danger to protect his loved ones. In the Season 6 episode “Let It Bleed,” Dean captures and tortures demons in an effort to find out where Crowley took Lisa and Ben. He then has Cas wipe their memories so that they don’t remember him and can live their lives without him, at his own great distress. In season 5, he goes to Stull Cemetery to impinge on the fight between Lucifer and Michael, just to be there for Sam. As Dean says, he’s “not going to let him die alone.”

That being said, I do have to talk about Dean’s very few, but ultimately life-ruining, flaws. His emotional dysregulation makes his moods unpredictable at best. By virtue of his black and white thinking, he forces the people he loves to choose sides between him and other characters, such as Sam and Ruby, Cas and Crowley, Mary and the british men of letters, and Cas and Jack, and when they don’t choose him, he passively aggressively, and sometimes just aggressively, tortures them until something else usurps their betrayal. His anger issues are par to none, and often get him in a lot of trouble. But since he is the main character, he never really faces consequences for this, and neither does he mature. Even in the final season episode “The Trap,” while Dean admits how angry he is and how wrong he was for taking it out on Cas when Jack died, mere episodes later in “Unity” he turns Jack into a nuclear reactor to take out God, and Jack dies again. His characterisation in the last few seasons, especially in regards to Jack, is all over the place. I would have to start a murderboard to explain how Dean feels about Jack and how he reacts to what Jack does in every episode. Like, pictures and red string and everything. And even then I would not be able to comprehend exactly what the writers did and what they thought they were doing.

But unlike me, Dean always believes the best in people until proven otherwise, and he does always come around to the people who atone for their sins. Even when Sam refuses to get his soul back in season 6, Dean keeps trying until Sam is put right. Between seasons 7 and 8, He spends a year in Purgatory looking for Cas despite how Cas sent Sam insane, ingested billions of monster souls, and became God. When the people he loves choose him, he chooses them back.

But even when they betray him, lie to him, deceive him, and hurt the other people in his life, he can’t stop loving them. He never stops loving Sam or Cas or Jack or Mary or John or Bobby. He loves with everything he has. He is, as Cas says, a being of love.

Oof. That was a lot of words and I feel like I only just scratched the surface. Like realistically I just talked about fambily and ADHD. There is just so much to Dean Winchester that maybe I’ll make another episode sometime. But I am definitely making an episode purely about Dean’s gender presentation and sexuality in the future. You can find the show at holyhellpod on Tumblr where I post transcripts for the episodes and Instagram where I post memes.

I don’t see myself doing an episode about Sam any time soon, Not because I don’t like Sam, but because I can’t stand Jared Padalecki. He’s done some things that I can’t support, and I’m really bad at separating the art from the artist. Especially when it’s something like Supernatural, which is not art. Supernatural is an experiment. It’s not Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry. Like Jared Padalecki didn’t invent rock and roll, you know what I’m saying? However, if you really want me to do an episode about Sam, you can pay me 101 Australian dollars and 50 Australian cents at patreon.com/holyhellpod. I’ll talk to you next time.

Links

http://www.scififantasynetwork.com/dean-winchester-has-adhd/

#supernatural #spn #supernatural podcast #dean winchester #holyhellpod #transcripts

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galaxitic · 4 years

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Nobody??? I'm a somebody!!! Tell me about your charactersssss

You are going to regret asking this. I will now proceed to explain to you my entire plot as it stands.

Just so you know, it’s very much incomplete.

........Well, we’re gonna have to start with the basic facts about my WIP, I guess—

(Also: potential trigger warnings for PTSD, war, drugging, hallucinations, torture, death, suicide, and a lot of other dark themes)

In summary, my story’s about a revolution that takes place in the tyrannical kingdom of Idris. We have three perspective characters (listed in no particular order):

- Brinne Alistair (22), the queen of the kingdom. Controlling, emotional, paranoid. Has bipolar disorder.

- Adrian Caldaver (22), the queen’s advisor. Timid, visionary, guilt-ridden.

- Rowen Pierce (25), the leader of a major rebellion in Idris. Passionate, sadistic, determined.

We also have four secondary characters as the story is right now (though that number’s undoubtedly going to go up over time):

- Lennox Warren (22), a noble of the kingdom. Controls criminal justice. Rigid, professional, calculating.

- Grace Hudson (22), another noble (although she’s secretly part of the rebellion). Controls public relations with other countries. Persistent, analytical, zealous.

- Evander Pierce (27), Rowen’s brother and moral compass right-hand-man in the revolution. Pragmatic, serious, good-natured.

- Zurielle Tessing (20), a noble of the kingdom, and Adrian’s fiancée. Shy, practical, melancholy.

We can probably start with some history. Six years before the actual story begins, before Brinne is queen, there’s an attack on the castle lead by none other than Rowen herself. Shit goes down, and a fuck ton of nobles and royalty die, including the parents of all my characters in nobility.

Brinne and Adrian aren’t killed, but Adrian is shot in the leg and Brinne is not only stabbed, but also gets the symbol of the revolution carved into her left cheek by Rowen. They’re both left to die, but neither of their wounds are fatal.

Flash forward five years, they both have PTSD from the incident.

Starting with the actual storyline, Rowen infiltrates the castle with help from Grace, looking for both Adrian and Lennox. She enlists their help in her revolution, promising that if they lend her their aid, they won’t be killed. They both agree.

Specifically, Adrian’s job is to convince Brinne not to make any decisions that oppress the people further. Lennox’s is to make criminal punishments more lenient, because the rebels are going to be committing a hell of a lot of crimes. Both are instructed not to get in each other’s way.

✨Time skipping✨, Grace executes a plan to fake her death and escape living as a noble. Her motives for it are somewhat tentative as of now, but they’re related to being able to work closer with the revolution and have it be less risky.

Over the next six months or so, Grace and Rowen do some gay shit, and Grace does a ton of stuff for the revolution. Things are going better than ever.

...That is, until Grace is found and arrested for treason.

Rowen goes to the castle after Grace’s arrest in an attempt to negotiate with Lennox for her. However, in the process, Lennox shoots and arrests Rowen as well.

Rowen is put on death row for treason (as is Grace), but before her execution, she’s sent to be interrogated by Lennox. Lennox finds a file on Rowen in the castle archives of the kingdom’s citizens, and based off information in it, he has Evander detained in the dungeons as well. Through Rowen’s interrogation, she refuses to say anything until Lennox threatens Evander’s life in front of her. That gets her...real talkative, to say the least.

Post-interrogation Rowen is not doing so well. She isn’t dehydrated or starving anymore, but the only food and water she’s given in captivity is heavily sedated and laced with hallucinogens. Lucky for her, though, Adrian comes to rescue her (and Evander and Grace) via Methods I Don’t Know Yet. His motives behind it largely relate back to his guilt and moral dilemma, but they’re also fear-based.

When Rowen, Evander, and Adrian get to Grace’s cell, she’s dead. She’d committed suicide with a vial of poison that revolutionaries have on them at all times after hearing that Rowen was captured. However, since Rowen is still under the effects of hallucinogens, she hallucinates that Grace is alive and well, and escaping with them.

When Rowen and Evander make it back to where they live, and it processes that Grace is dead, Rowen’s mental state collapses.

Adrian feels exceedingly guilty over helping the traitors, and figures the least he can do is tell Lennox they’re gone. He does, and Lennox decides it isn’t safe for him to stay in the kingdom.

He flees to another country with some rather...unconventional help from Brinne. He puts a gun to her head and demands permission to leave the kingdom, to which she complies. Brinne nearly kills herself after aiding him, but stops herself out of fear of death.

There’s going to be a lot in between that and the next thing, but I don’t know what any of it is yet - all I know is that after some time, the actual revolution both starts and ends, and spoiler alert: the rebels win.

Great! So the war is won, the people are happy, and now they just have to decide what to do with the queen. Rowen and Evander argue over how to kill her, which seems like a pointless argument, but considering Rowen’s idea is to burn her alive, it’s not really unreasonable that Evander’d want something more humane. If only he’d won the argument.

After being completely humiliated, Brinne is burned alive, and all the remaining nobles in the kingdom are hanged.

Meanwhile, Adrian finally does the same thing Lennox did: he runs. Specifically to the country next over. After a whole day of not stopping to rest, he eventually comes across a secluded cottage right on the beach. Not what he’s used to, but it’ll work.

Over the next year, Rowen works to establish a just government in Idris. Things go surprisingly well for her.

Adrian, on the other hand, is not doing okay at all. He’s completely suicidal at this point, and has attempted both drowning and starving himself.

Rowen visits the country Adrian is in for a diplomatic mission of sorts. She realizes there’s a beach nearby where she’s staying, and she’s never seen the ocean before, so she figures she might as well go.

She finds Adrian there, who’s contemplating suicide again. Adrian asks her to kill him using the knife she has on her, and at first she refuses, claiming she has no reason to. After some persuasion, though, she caves. She stabs him right below his ribs, and using the last of his strength, Adrian takes her knife and stabs himself a second time.

Rowen is scarred. She tells no one about that day, not even Evander. In truth, Adrian and her were always equally scared of each other, to an extent, and Rowen’s fear of him only increased with the encounter.

I’m bad at endings, but pretty sure it’s going to end with a reflection on Rowen’s part.

So yeah, that’s my WIP! I’m so sorry this was so long - I really hope at least somebody took the time to read all that, cause it took a super long time to write.

I really do crave validation for this - commenting/reblogging would mean the world to me, and asking me further questions or DMing me about it would mean even more. Thank you so much if you read all the way through that...I love y’all more than I can describe. Please don’t be shy to ask me more about any of this, it’d legitimately make my day.

#kylie’s asks!!#kylie's wip!!#oc: adrian #oc: brinne #oc: rowen #oc: lennox #oc: grace #oc: evander #sebby asks me things!!#ask to tag #i'm so so so so so sorry this was so long #long post #writing #writeblr

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ramblesanddragons · 5 years

Text

So you want to know what Bill’s was looking at in Chapter 3 of A Man Made of Stone? Aka an Index of Fics mentioned.

rum-and-shattered-dreams had an amazing bit in their fic about Bill gazing at dimensions and I wanted to play with that idea. I’ve read A LOT of Gravity Falls stuff since re-falling in love with the show. Here’s a list of the ones that Bill takes a glance out. I felt I should share the works and authors!

In order of mention:

The Whole of Us (Is Greater than the sum of our broken pieces) by @nicnacsnonsense

Excuse me while I cry. In this reality Ford discovers Dipper and Mabel on his doorstep in 1982 and he’s their dad. This is both a heart warming and heart breaking work. They do an amazing job of keeping Ford and Stan in character. Kid Dipper and Mabel are so well done. Soos’ mom is such a great character. Bill is still a jerk and so is Pa Pines but we knew that.

Major Warnings: There are warnings for Past Child Abuse and Neglect and oof that neglect rang a little close to home for me but I was able to handle it.

1 Step Forward, 20 Years Back by @infriga (Ppleater on A03)

Fountain of youth= TINY STAN. I love the concept of the Fountain of Youth here and I can’t talk about other stuff without spoilers but there’s a great Ford to the rescue moment in this and Stan’s natural charisma gets a +2 bonus as a kid. It’s great.

Major Warnings: Past Child Abuse and Broken Bones/Resetting those bones.

Timestuck AU by @the-subpar-ghost

Mabel interacting with her way younger, way too stressed Grunkles is the best. The ending chapter is such a ride from start to finish.

Major Warnings: There’s some violence with mentions of blood but nothing graphic.

(Relativity Falls is where Dipper and Mabel are the old ones and Kids Stan and Ford go visit Gravity Falls one summer. My favorite fic to come out of that Au was)

New Normal by @scribefindegil

It’s a one shot but it’s the perfect sort of end to this AU’s story. Old Dipper and Mabel being badass and young Stan and Ford being adorable.

Major Warnings: References to past child abuse.

The Man Downstairs by @rum-and-shattered-dreams

The fic that inspired this scene. I love how they weave the canon of the show with what’s happening in this AU. Ford never went through the portal but Bill can now take control of him at will. Ford and Stan’s bond is just so good in this. It’s dark but it has great humor too.

Major Warnings: Bill is a sadistic bastard and lets that out on Ford. Big ones are torture, eye trauma, and suicidal ideation.

A Little Bit Lost by @impishnature

An idea that Ford comes out of the portal much more feral than in canon. Just read it. Trust me just read it. It covers very realistic post trauma Ford in a series of one shots in a way the show probably never could have.

Major Warnings: Ford’s PTSD and the associated side effects (flashbacks and panic attacks) is very evident in this.

30 Seconds Later by Shayera (Also no idea if there is a tumblr)

Such a fun concept. Ford only spends 30 Seconds in the portal but for Stan it was still 30 years. There’s a great family D&D&MD bit in here that made my heart happy.

Major Warnings: Bill can also control Ford when he’s out. He attacks someone while possessed and there’s some damage.

Ad Astra by @themadqueenmab

An amazing Drifting Stars AU (Mabel gets pulled into the multiverse by accident) The balance between Ford and Mabel in the multiverse and Stan and Dipper fighting to get them back is so good. The worlds are so creature and horrifying and I’m at the edge of my seat reading it.

Major Warnings: There’s some pretty scary stuff in here I think. Mabel and Ford get roughed up quite a bit. I would also mention alcoholism and abuse towards children because again Bill Cipher is a jerk.

A Step in the Wrong Direction Series by impishnature

When Stan tries to bring back Ford he ends up in the portal instead. I’ll go on about impish nature’s writing in a moment if I start here I’ll never get to the rest lol.

Major Warnings: Some blood if I remember right and angst.

Blind Faith by @pinesinthewoods

Stan falls into the portal with Ford in 1982 and things got very awry in a realm of horror but the bond Ford and Stan share may just get them through after all is the basis of this AU. Be warned it gets dark but it’s super good.

Major Warnings: Psychological Trauma and Eye Trauma

Demonic Conman by Impishnature

Stan takes up Bill’s offer to join him and becomes a demon. With two separate endings this is one of the first GF fanfic I read and I have loved EVERYTHING Impish has written. Like I could just recommend all of their stuff. Stan as a demon is amazing.

Major Warnings: Major Character Death...kind of

OTHER: These are fics that are either post canon (Bill can’t see past when he gets erased) or an AU I couldn’t figure out how to put in there.

Fisherman’s Knot by @scribefindegil

This is the very first fic I read when I wanted to find more GF stuff since I missed the show so much. It wrecked me in such a good way and I read the whole thing (it’s a big one) in like 2 days. I cried. The angst and humor is amazing. The original character is great and I love her. The last line stuck with me for days. As someone who has struggled with depression and it’s darker hold over a person it spoke to me beyond it being about Ford and Stan.

Major Warnings: Suicide Ideation/ Attempt, Anxiety, and Deep Depression.

Live by the Book by @anistarrose

The Adventure Zone/ Gravity Falls crossover I didn’t know I needed in my life. I love the inside of the Journal and a certain someone’s reappearance. I think you can get the basics of the story without having to listen to TAZ but if you haven’t you should lol.

Major Warnings: Just Peril I believe. Nothing really comes to mind.

The Lighthouse Keeper AU by Impishnature with art by @sightkeeper

Gravity Falls set in a lighthouse on the coast of Oregon. What I love about this one is the take on Bill is probably even scarier than canon Bill. It’s beautifully written and makes me both want to go to the ocean and never set foot in it again. Dipper and Mabel are also super cute in this as well.

Major Warnings: Drowning, Depression and Intrusive Thoughts.

The Past Up In Smoke and Stan’s Diary Hand’s Off by @beacandy

The first one is a great telling of a thing from Journal 3 where they burn all the Bill related stuff they can find. It’s so cathartic.

The second one I don’t want to say too much about because I don’t want to spoil it but once I got what was happening I was floored with feels.

Major Warnings: I don’t really think there are with these two besides angst.

Everyone mentioned has more than one fic to read and there’s so many more out there but I can’t mention them all. I hope this little guide gets someone new a good starting point.

Art Recomendation: I would be remiss if I didn’t also shout out @artsymeeshee and her art. She makes some great comics. Lots of funny indirect quotes and angst comics.

#Gravity Falls #gravity falls fanfiction #Recomendations #This took like 2 hours to do lol #It was worth it to ramble on about great stories #PLEASE let me know if my links go crazy

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mysticmelove · 5 years

Note

Hi! Can you write fluff for Jumin x MC with a MC with really bad periods. Like they’ve been together for awhile and Jumin has obviously had her see doctors but it’s just something MC has to deal with so he does his best for her.

*I’m sorry I’ve been so inactive, ironically it was due to my PMDD so I guess this is in part self-indulgent? xx

Period pains

(Jumin x MC)

In the space of a year and a half Jumin had grown to know a lot about his wife. He knew she liked quiet evenings and reading long novels. She enjoyed trips to the vineyard. She was strong minded. She wasn’t a fan of beer in the slightest. And yet one of the most resounding things, and a thing he learned very quickly in their relationship, was that his wife suffered from extremely bad periods.

MC had mentioned it to him once or twice after everything in relation to the party had settled- she apologised profusely for her short temper and blamed it on her menstrual cycle. Still, Jumin didn’t take much notice of her words. He didn’t notice her so called bad temper or ‘PMS’, as she called it, and told her she was free to stay in the penthouse for as long as she wished, despite her insistence that it’d be better if she just dealt with her period in the apartment. It took some convincing but MC agreed to stay in the penthouse, leading to Jumin’s first exposure to what he could only describe as something ‘torturous’ to his then fiancée. He was shocked to see how much sheer pain something natural could cause her, needless to say he had a doctor in immediately. He was even more distressed to hear the doctor was just as dismissive of everything as MC was. In his mind, it wasn’t normal and even ludicrous to think his princess should have to settle for crippling pain on a monthly basis.

Yet, a year into their marriage and almost 18 periods later, Jumin had gotten used to this thing he hated so very much. He knew her cycle like the back of his hand and he knew exactly what she needed and when, though nonetheless could be expected from Jumin. As such, the second MC would look disgruntled nearing the time he was at her side immediately. If he couldn’t ease her pain he’d be there to make it bearable.

Her periods were rarely late and Jumin knew when to keep an eye on her. He sat up awake in their bed as time ticked on slowly, reading silently whilst he waited for his wife. His head jerked up from his book immediately at the sounds of her footsteps entering the room. Jumin removed his reading glasses with care, placing them on the bedside table and taking a better look at his wife. MC’s eyes were squinted, her hands grasped at her sides as she sighed. “Did it start?” Jumin asked patiently as he marked his book page and placed it aside.

MC nodded with a face of utter disgust and discomfort, groaning as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Everything aches...”

The sound of her whines brought Jumin his own pain, his eyebrows furrowing violently at just those two words. He encouraged her further into the bed gently, resting his hands on her shoulder and massaging them ever so slightly. “MC... You just relax, okay? Try and sleep the best you can.” Jumin cooed to her, stroking his hand through her hair and eyeing her form lovingly.

MC turned to face him, her eyes tried and drained of their natural glow. She leant towards him carelessly, her lips gracing his as a whisper barely fell from her lips, “I love you...”

A firm hand brushed through her hair, sweeping loose strands from her face before he kissed her forehead. His eyes almost melted at the sight of her exhausted face, “I love you too.”

The night was extremely restless for MC, to say the least. She hated to fidget so much in their bed in fear of waking her husband by accident, yet her stomach was twisting into tight knots with each passing second she laid awake. Her hips were on fire, she felt as if her back was being stabbed relentlessly, and her legs ached unlike anything else she could explain. With this discomfort, she found it impossible to stay still and Jumin was soon awoken by her wriggling. His eyes didn’t open a crack, his only real show of consciousness being an exasperated sigh. The feeling of his body against hers was enough to make her stop for once; he was so much colder that she was, her body was burning up silently. Jumin moved closer to her, his protective hands wrapped around her middle. She knew now that he was definitely awake: he made a habit of sleeping like this when she was in pain- holding her close but not drowning her in his grasp. Obviously, her pain didn’t subside in the slightest but she found it comforting to know he was there.

As the sun rose, MC’s eyelids finally began to grow heavy from the exhaustion filling her system and growing more significant than her now dulling pain. She couldn’t bare to think about getting up when she so desperately needed so sleep now. MC groaned as light began to shine on her through the cracks in the blinds, the light causing her to squint incessantly. She pulled the quilts above her eyes as that horrid cramping feeling began to grow in her stomach once again. The tugging of the soft cotton was what initially awoke Jumin, followed shortly by his wife’s groaning.

Jumin reached over to his bedside table silently, retrieving his phone and eyeing the time on the display. It wasn’t much earlier than he would have usually woken up; it made sense that he was so quick to awake from her movements. He placed the phone down, his partly-rejuvenated eyes being drawn to the ceiling above. A groggy voice left his lips at the sound of MC’s whines, “Do you want me to get your heating pad, my love?”

“Good morning to you too,” she mocked amidst her exhaustion, but was soon met with another stab through her core that left her groaning again. Jumin twirled a lock of her loose hair between his fingers, humming quietly as he rested up on an elbow and looked to her contorted face. MC murmured quietly in defeat, “...Yes please...” She cracked the smallest smile as he left a kiss upon her forehead.

In the time Jumin had disappeared from her side and returned, his wife had slipped in and out of sleep. Her body told her simply to relax, give in to the temptation of slumber, but there was the ever looming fact that she’d have to get up soon anyway. The last thing she wanted to deal with was more stained sheets. The sound of Jumin clearing his throat brought MC to immediately, prompting her to sit up despite how uncomfortable it was. Jumin felt himself wince at her furrowed brows, “How are you feeling?” his voice was gentle as he placed a glass of water down on the table beside her.

MC was more than accepting of the heat pad while she watched her husband plug it into a free outlet. “I’ll be fine.”

Jumin was never one to doubt her, yet he couldn’t entirely believe her words as she spoke- they felt almost strained through her pain. “I can take the day off. Stay here with you, if that’s what you want?”

“No... go to work,” she spoke begrudgingly, of course she wanted him there, “I don’t want to cause an inconvenience for anyone.”

With care, he perched himself on the bed bedside her, cupping her ever so slightly flushed cheeks. His eyes shone with nothing but adoration. “It would do nothing of the sort. I don’t like seeing you in pain and I can’t stand not being there for you, my love.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin han #mysme jumin #mc mystic messenger #mc myseme #mystic messenger drabble #mysme drabble #mystic messenger headcanon

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exodusmc · 5 years

Text

A mole and stars

Genre: soulmate au, light angst

Words: 2667

Paring: Minseok x reader

Warning!: light swearing

a/n: I miss Minnie :(

Gif is not mine

“You sure you want to do that?” Jongdae’s voice held scepticism as he watched his best friend sitting between candles and different herbs, all because he was going crazy for his soulmate. “You know it’s not how it works”

His friend frowned, eyes slitt closed as he mumbled words he thought would lead him to his other half. Minseok was turning 30 in a year and he started to panic because he had no clue about how to find his soulmate, much unlike Jongdae, who sported a big note on his lower calf and ribs. Jongdae knew what his soulmate loved, how to get to them, while Minseok had no clue and was older.

“It needs to work or I’ll be alone forever!” Jongdae shook his head in disbelief. He understood his friend but now things were going to far. Jongdae had heard about soulmates whom saw each others scars, so it scared him, scared him that Minseok would hurt himself just to get to a person he didn't know.

“You won’t. I’ll be here, the rest of your friends will be here”

“That’s not the same..” Minseok opened his eyes, they were shining in the fire, along with his black hair. He looked so sad, Jongdae could feel his heart hurt. It was unfair, Minseok wanted a family but fate seemed to torture him.

“Why don't we go out and meet people. Maybe you can find someone?”Minseok didn't look convinced because he knew he wouldn't meet his soulmate, the only one he wanted to see.

“Smile Minseok! Be happy! There are so many girls looking at you!” Baekhyun cheered, his voice drowning in alcohol and music, his hair now silver. Baekhyun also knew what his soulmate mark was, hair changing almost every week because of it.

Minseok weren't interested in anyone of them, they weren't the one. All smiles only wanted one thing and that was a night. He kept to himself the whole time, almost hissing if someone dared to come close. Around 12 am was he ready to drag both Baekhyun and Jongdae home but a tingly sensation, followed with explosions in his chest made him tense. Minseok’s eyes widened, searching for what he thought might come finally. That’s when a smiling girl, eyes wide and hair beautiful, leaned against the bar, close to him, so close he saw a mark which he never thought about before. His mouth dried up as he gazed at an almost perfectly round brown mark on her left wrist, the exact same place where he had one to.

“Good night, Soo! See ya!” Minseok was frozen as she ran out of the club, leaving him there alone. He realized what happened, who he had seen, so Minseok ran as fast as he could, heart beating in his throat.

He was desperate to find her, but there was so many bodies moving around him, keeping him from finding her. Minseok almost cried as he was pushed around, fighting destiny and humanity. However, it seemed like something wanted him to succeed because he saw her walking down the street. She was far away but he could catch up, he could finally feel whole. Minseok ran after, his skin burning and mind racing. He found her and would never let her go. She turned a corner and that’s when he managed to get a hold of her arm, tears pricking at his sight. She tensed, her eyes terrified as she turned to him and Minseok felt his heart and soul shatter.

“What the hell!?” the girl which he ran after weren't the right one, no mark on her wrist.

“You’re not her..”Minseok’s whole demeanor fell, hope disappearing and stabbing him. He was stupid to believe, his soul was whole, his soul was alone.

“Fucking creep!”the boy sat down against a cold wall, eyes staring empty before him. She had disappeared, phone in hand about to call the cops but Minseok couldn't care less. He let her slip between his fingers and now was she a star in the open sky above his head.

“Good night, Soo! See ya!”you smiled to your friend and he could probably kill you right now, if he got the chance. You left him with some annoying girls and oh how happy you were at his displeasure.

Snickering your way out of the club, you missed the eyes of someone you were connected to and how your mark itched slightly. Everyone seemed to be leaving at the same time, bodies pressing on you. You managed to get out but almost fell if it weren't for..

“Jongdae! I didn't know you were here!” a smile spread over your face as his eyes widened in surprise. Jongdae and you were new friends but you already cherished him, he was important and he was light when life seemed dark.

“Y/n! How’s life gonnin’? Any luck with the soulmate thing?” you shook your head, having once been obsessed with your soulmate but when years passed and friends started to see their marks, you kinda just let it go. If they were your soulmate, they would show up and you couldn't force it, even if it hurt deep inside each time someone came with their mark or soulmate.

“Life’s fine and no soulmate”Jongdae hummed, his gaze scanning for Minseok, never seeing the older but he knew that he had walked out.

“You should meet one of my friends..He doesn't have soulmate mark either but he’s not a chill about it as you”

“I would love to meet him. Bye Jongdae” a quick hug and you were on your way again, a wish in your heart, a wish about a deep connection. You wondered how everyone thought you were so okay with having no mark which could hint at your soulmate, because even if you wore a happy face, you felt empty inside.

Jongdae had tried to talk to Minseok for a week after they had gone out but the latter hid inside his home, not going to work, not doing anything. It worried Jongdae. Something happened that night which made Minseok lose hope and it drowned him in a feeling of loneliness, but Jongdae had to pull him out, he couldn't risk his friends life.

��Y/n..”the only one who could related to Minseok, someone who had moved past fate and choosing her own life, you were Jongdae’s last hope.

“I’m surprised that you date..Most people only chase after their soulmates” Jongin sipped on his coffee, eyes moving over your slouching body. They boy had a special ability to get on your nerves, only to smile and melt all your anger away.

“And most of them are chasing their soulmate. You don't even know how many men I have seen frown when birds don't sing at our first encounter” you kept pressing the keys on your computer, writing a report, which Jongin too should do.

“Still you keep going. I’m impressed..I mean would get a cat or something if I was in your seat” that salty little boy. “Oh maybe I’d move away from humans and embrace the lo-”

“Okay Jongin! I get it! Go do your work before I beat your ass!” he grinned as he already was running from your seat, dodging a pen you threw after him. You like him as a friend, you really do but sometimes you just want to hit his head.

“Oh that annoying little brat! He should lock his door tonight or I’ll-”the buzzing from your phone made your tantrum stop, nose still flared as Jongdae’s name flashed at you.

“Jongade?”

“Y/n could I ask for a favor?” you tensed slightly on your chair, the tone in his voice wrong.

“Of course..is something wrong?”

“I’m fine but do you remember the friend I told you about?”you hummed, relaxing.”Well he isn't doing so the best and I was wondering if you could maybe meet him and help him?Please I worried sick for him”

“Sure, I’ll help. Get him out to Pine Street at around 9 pm..”

“Okay. Thank you so much!”

A sigh escaped your lips as Jongdae hung up. You shouldn't do this, because even if you understand, how in the world could you help them when you too was scared of your missing mark?

“Come on Minseok! She is nice and I promise it will be worth it! Open the door!” Minseok listened as Jongdae banged on his door, pleading him to open it and let him take the older out again.

But Minseok didn't want to, he had come to realize that his own soulmate weren't his. She didn't feel anything when Minseok couldn't breathe. He was meant to be alone. To gaze at the stars, searching for his own path to interlock with someone else's. The clock ticked on and Jongdae didn't quiet down.

“Minseok please!Just come out again..I’m scared” his heart shattered at the words of his friend, never wanting to be the cause of pain but he had to protect himself, right?”Minseok!”

The sound of a lock being opened made Minseok tense, his hand resting on the door hadel. He had done it in a haze of survival and maybe, just maybe did he want to get out again.

“Thank good”Jongdae was dragging the older away the second his door closed again.

The car ride was silent as Minseok tried to remember where he was going or who he was meeting but couldn't. His eyes found the few stars which shone even in the city lights, a soft tune of music putting him in trans. Jongdae glanced to his side from time to time, seeing Minseok’s face lighting up for a moment, drowned in shadows the next.

“Her name is Y/n, she’s a friend of mine and will understand you better than anyone else”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit” you walked in circles, scratching at the mole on your wrist. You were regretting this, scared that you would say something which made everything worse, because your experience weren't their experience. Even if you and them were in the same situation, would your feelings be different. You shouldn't have done this..

“Goddamnit..” but you couldn't back out either, you were stuck.

Defeated, you sat down on the ground, grass tickling the small amount of skin which were exposed by your ankle. Eyes found the sky and you could see the stars, not just the brightest. It was like looking at a sky filled with sparkles, millions and millions. This spot was special because it was the only one in the city where you could see them all. Hopefully it would help in some way.

“Why Jongdae?”

“Because she is like you and she asked me to take you here..”Minseok stared in disbelief at the path which went deep into a patch of tight grown trees. They were in a overgrown park somewhere closer to a river which made its way through concrete.

“This is not funny..”Jongdae pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes weary but he could trust you. “Wait I’ll call her..”

So that's what he did, getting his relief as you told to just send his friend down the path, that you were in a small clearing which no-one could miss. And Minseok listened, walking down dirt even when he really didn't want to. He felt hair stand on his body as he saw a figure sitting down on the grass. Maybe he would be murdered now, he didn't know this person and he started to believe Jongdae didn't either. He cleared his throat, tensing at the same time as the figure flinched.

But something happened as he watched more, waiting for you to turn. His mole started to itch and he could feel how his body started to boil, how his heart lightened again. Minseok didn't like it because it meant hurt. You turned at the sound of their arrival, fingers dragging over the oddly round mark one last time.

“Oh..Hello I’m Y-” Minseok couldn't believe his eyes. They locked with the girl who had laughed in the bar.

It was ironic, how a bird sang even when it was evening. You couldn't believe what was happening, never having given the mole on your wrist more thought but now, now it was painfully mocking you. You saw stars in his eyes and the feeling of not being alone anymore made you cry. Everything was overwhelming and your brain wouldn't funktion. Did you really find him? Where he really yours? Minseok too felt like he couldn't comprehend, his hope burning bright through his eyes. You were his and now he weren't alone anymore but you were crying and dark ideas circled in him.

“I’m sorry..Not what you were hoping for?” the question was ss funny, so funny you laughed through tears, because you had asked the same every time a date looked disappointed.

“Th-that’s n-not it” you stammered out, palms trying to dry the wetness on your cheeks.”I just can't believe you're actually here..”

And Minseok was before you in a second, his embrace warm as he hugged you close. He bit at his lower lip to not sob, his chin resting on top of your head as you shook in his arms. This can't be real, how in the world did he actually find you with nothing?

“Shh it’s okay..I’m here and I’m never leaving..”Minseok mumbled and you exhaled, relaxing enough to peer up at his cat like eyes. The melted into the black sky over your heads but for some reason, you knew his eyes were more than just one color.

“What’s your name?” a small smile played on his lips, not displaying his gummy grin to the fullest just yet.

“Minseok”

“Y/n..My name’s Y/n” his hair fell over his forehead and you wanted to thread your fingers through the soft locks, to feel him forever close.

Minseok isn't sunlight like Jongdae, he’s the stars which shine the brightest in the dark and the most beautiful occurrence in the world to you. Your hands left the fabric of his shirt, where they had clenched hard, wandering down like feathers to his left wrist. You found the mole there, an insignificant little mark you never thought would lead you to him, to the one.

“How long have you had it?”you whispered out, thumb dragging over your newfound soulmate mark.

“Since I was born…”you gazed up at him again, heart in your throat as he watched your lips with fire in his eyes. You were his fate, he was yours.

“Me too..”you never thought that you would have been destined with someone the day you were born, you were the one with no mark to others who had gotten theirs in their teens. When in fact you had never been without your mark, it was always there.

“Who would have thought that my mark was my mole?”you smiled with newfound tears in your eye as Minseok did the same. He had dreamt about you and now he had you.

“I found you” he pushed hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek.”Are you mine?”

You nodded at him, breathing deepening as Minseok moved closer. You soon felt his breath on your lips and couldn't wait for him, so you took the last steep, crushing your mouth against his, life filling you to the brim. Minseok thrived in the way you moved like you were made for him and only him. He would no longer be alone because even when you were apart, his soul was yours, like yours were his.

“I want the rest of my forever with you” he mused between kisses and warmth. Minseok couldn't wait for the future now, who could when the right one finally came along.

“I want to spend it with you too”

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signorformica · 5 years

Photo

Bibliothèque Infernale presents:

HOW ELEVEN CHINESE DEVOURED THEIR BRIDE (1926) —A grotesque, infamous short story by HANNS HEINZ EWERS

This is a story about sodomy and bestiality. Most people don’t understand such things and don’t like them. That’s all right, but, if you were born a Tartar there would be no question that sodomite stories are always very funny.

If a case comes before the court, the Judge, Public Prosecutor, clerk, Lawyer and curiously even the Justice of the Peace all see the humor in it. Only the public can’t see the humor. It is out of the question because the morality of the Public must not be endangered in any way.

So enjoy this mild story of our black gowned family. Naturally it is a light hearted story that will not seduce anyone into sodomy or bestiality. Especially when he sees how this abomination can get a poor devil stuck into prison for a couple years just for a small bit of pleasure.

That is still mild and humane says the Law. Things were not always so light. We read that our dear God rained both pitch and brimstone on the contaminated cities of Sodom and Gomorrah destroying them to the ground.

Only the noble Lot and his daughters were spared. His wife was turned into a naked pillar of salt simply because she once turned to look back toward these abominable cities.

Now the Lot family was not completely morally strong all the time. The behavior of the God fearing family was such that the one and only God sent angels to deliver them from this decline into abomination. How their countrymen desired these messengers and wanted to go out with them! Lot got them drunk and pleaded with them to take his daughters and use their blessed wombs instead!

How do you say, they looked pretty only after you had a few drinks?

Nevertheless this is a funny enough story in spite of all the pitch and brimstone. Funny too are the sodomite abominations in our time.

Yet they have been horribly punished. Sodomites have been crucified, quartered, drowned, broken on the wheel, burned at the stake and still they exist in all parts of the world. The weed of sodomy and bestiality is constantly new and blooming over the entire world. No pure gardener of high morals has ever been able to eradicate it from the garden of humanity.

Impassioned human lust will always explore all possible desires of the flesh. The beat of time appoints individuals across the country and in the city. Soon here, soon there, the false God, Sodom, needs a sacrifice.

The second half of the 11th century was a blooming period for sodomy and it existed in the Order of the Templars, the infamous secret sodomite society. A small group of sodomites existed as well in Sicily and the Abruzzo. The head of their organization was in India.

Today in southern China a pretty piece from Tunis and far into the Caucasus exists an abominable city of sodomy with a temple that holds all their secret love techniques. It has followers in all the large cities of the world.

In all countries, in one city or another there is a place where sodomy and bestiality are now blooming. First it is a bird, then a four footed beast that is strangely popular.

In the Rhienland in the old city of Mettmann the court is known for producing such amusing cases and almost as amusing punishments. The worthy citizens complain to the court and curse that which I applaud!

My friend, Justice of the Peace John, wanted to write his doctoral thesis about it.

“The Origin and Cultural Development linking the district of Mettmann to the second paragraph of Statute 175 R.-Str.-G.-B from the 12th century to today.”

But the Heidelberg Judicial Faculty had little sympathy for this theme. They suggested he choose to write instead about the indebtedness of the District Hubbelrath to the movement of the common people which is certainly very important but not half as humorous.

No one can deny that there is a humorous side to every single case of sodomy or bestiality. From the “Golden Ass” of Apuleius into modern times there is a long chain of droll and amusing anecdotes. These are all harmless crimes. It is a crying shame that medical knowledge never applies in these cases. In criminal law books all around the world the worst tortures known can be found.

These are promoted not only by the common people but by the higher class, the so-called educated rabble. The sturdy masses merely see these incidents as humorous. Boccaccio, Aretino, Voltaire, Goethe and Balzac all have highly polished jokes about it.

Heine’s sarcastic poem begins:

“Zu Berlin im Alten Schlosse

Sehen wir in Stein gemetz,

Wie ein Weib mit einem Rosse

Sodomitisch sich ergötzt.”

[Translator’s note:

“In an old castle in Berlin

We see chiseled in stone

How a woman with a steed

Amused herself through sodomy.”]

The Royal family has never forgotten this mockery of their illustrious ancestor depicted in this joke as a steed lustful woman. Who can really be further offended? Friedrich the Great had a great laugh over it even though he stopped work on Voltaire’s rough draft of him with his greyhounds because it was not to his taste.

He found himself in good company with Voltaire’s “Pucelle”, which depicted the virgin, Joan of Arc, after her conquest of Orleans riding an ass into a bedroom. Voltaire really intended the love as only allegory and the ass signifying the Catholic Church.

Such humor is known to date from the 18th century and while not appreciated by the common folk was by the Lords that ruled over them. They rewrote the language and revised an old judgment where a poor fellow that had been caught in obscenities with a goat should be burned at the stake. “The offender must burn,” so declared the Law. The clever Lords revised it to read, “The goat must burn”.

Friedrich the Great was an animal lover with a great sense of humor. When a cavalry member was caught making love to his mare he hung them both along with a sign that read, “The fellow wanted to be transferred to the infantry”. Today he would hardly be reported by his comrades.

The sodomy and bestiality in hidden bloom during World War I was so pervasive there were constant jokes about it. A cow is called Mrs. Sergeant-Major Lieutenant in the East and such four legged soldier wives exist in all armies around the world.

That is simply the way things are and no cleric or Judge can change it. Everyone knows that centaurs, fauns, and other mythological beasts come from the interbreeding of human and animal species. We all know they come about through this horrible obscenity but no one really sees any wrong in it.

It is the same with this incidentally full blooded adventure of the eleven Chinese that I will now relate. This story of strange love is not meant to be taken in an evil way.

So, there were these eleven Chinese in Chicago-

But no, I must begin it differently. My friend Fritz Lange lived in Chicago. He owned a laundry business. Really he was a land assessor and gambled on the hounds, but not in this story.

Over in America a man can do what he wants. He can be a waiter, dishwasher, bill poster, carriage maker or anything. Fritz finally had some luck and married the daughter of a Laundry owner. He began working there to learn the business so that when the old man died he could take over and do well with it.

Now he had built it into a mighty laundry business with a dozen pickup and delivery points scattered throughout the city. One day he came to me very excited. I needed to help him. Eleven of his workers had been arrested. Chinese naturally, they are equally the best and the cheapest washers in the city. I could help him because I knew the criminal Judge that had the case.

It was Judge Mc Ginty, whom I played stud poker with twice a week. Now Mc Ginty was a sociable man and liked to talk. He didn’t want the eleven fellows to get off easily and it would be hard to get them released. The eleven Chinese were confined because they had beaten up a God wretched pathetic red-haired fourteen year old Irish rascal named Jackie Murphy.

“Why did they beat him up?” I asked.

“He seduced the bride,” said Fritz Lange.

“That’s not going to be good,” I opinioned. “Judge Mc Ginty is very much a son of Erin and will certainly decide for the young rascal against the yellow brothers. Still, many a man can be persuaded by whiskey.”

“It is so dangerous!” My friend Lange cried. “The bride, that’s what my Chinese call her! The bride is not the bride of just one, but strangely of all eleven! To them she is not just a feminine being of white or yellow color! In short, the bride of the eleven is not human. To be entirely correct she is curiously enough a four legged sow!” “And Jackie seduced her?” I asked.

“Entirely correct,” nodded the land assessor. “The Chinese here live on nothing. They only save and save through the day and through the year until they have enough to go back home with a full purse. There is only one thing they can’t renounce and that is the desires of the flesh in any form. They are horny as apes and can’t stop themselves. They must have something so the eleven fellows went out and bought a pig. From an economical standpoint it is certainly a clever idea, you could scarcely find anything cheaper.

They all live together in a basement apartment and the sow lives there with them. Jackie, the son of the house manager, was hiding and saw the entire obscenity go down. Then, when my Chinese were at work he snuck into the cellar and climbed into the circular pen with their lover. With him it made an even dozen. When the Chinese found out the jealousy grew so strong in their love-struck fruitcake souls that they beat the red-haired rascal half to death.”

“Thunderation!” I cried. “That looks very bad. Does Judge Mc Ginty know all this?”

“Naturally he knows,” answered Fritz Lange. “Jackie’s father had the Chinese arrested. They apologized for the atrocity and for mishandling the boy but when they found out they were going to prison they started screaming that Jackie was the 12th and in league with them. That’s when he first learned from the Chinese what really happened.”

“What will the outcome be?”

“Twenty years in prison is the minimum according to the Law in the State of Illinois. They are not as mild here as they are across the ocean! And I have lost my best workers! But there is still a chance. The case is still with the police and has not yet gone to court. I’ve always been on friendly terms with the police. I need you to take this to Judge Mc Ginty.”

He reached into a bag and brought out a large piece of Nephritis, Imperial Jade, of the most glorious green color and wonderfully cut into the shape of an enormous turkey. It was easily worth more than a few hundred dollars.

“Here,” he cried. “The fellows have given me this. It is something very valuable that can possibly get them out of this jam. Take this to Judge Mc Ginty; I think he will talk with you.”

So I took the stone and went to Mc Ginty but he was not home. His wife greeted me. She was pretty and distinguished despite being fifty-four years old and she understood the situation. I gladly showed her my lump of jade and her eyes got bigger and bigger.

“I received this as a present,” I said weakly. ” I wondered if your husband was interested in it. I could really use a few dollars right now.”

At that moment Mc Ginty came.

“Buy it!” His wife cried out to him. “I’ve been wishing for a piece like that for many years. He’s letting it go really cheap, only-“

The Judge took the glorious piece and set it down on the table.

“Come with me,” he said. “I don’t want her to hear our little chat.”

He took me around back despite the pleading of his wife who stood with both hands clasped together in front of her.

“God, I’ve got fifty dollars,” she cried after us.

“What’s this about?” He asked me out on the street.

“It’s like this,” I said. “You know about those Chinese that were arrested yesterday. My friend Lange needs his workers and wants them released. The fellows gave him this stone to sell so they could get some money for their defense.”

Mc Ginty looked at me sharply.

“I know it’s not right-, “he began. “What do you know about this?”

“Nothing special,” I lied. “They beat up a fourteen year old.”

“Nothing else?” The honorable Judge asked.

He winked at me and gave me a poke in the ribs.

“Nothing that I can remember,” I laughed.

Judge Mc Ginty chuckled, and then he said. “Good, I will buy this stone because my wife wants it so badly. But I can’t give you more than ten dollars for it. There, that is enough for your defense. Go quickly to Jim Mc Namus, the lawyer, you know him. Give him the ten dollars-wait a minute,” He put down another. “There, he gets one for each. The rascal Murphy must defend his son because he is Irish, he won’t talk.

Tell Mc Namus to be in court at 6:00 this evening to get this over with quickly. Now, please excuse me. I must go to my wife and bring her this little thing she is so madly in love with.”

He played with the stone on the table.

Judge Mc Ginty knew what he was talking about. I was at the criminal court that evening. A policeman said that the eleven coolies had beaten the young Murphy. The rascal said nothing. The Chinese said nothing. The defense asked for a mild sentence.

Judge Mc Ginty ruled that each pay a dollar to the state and another in damages to the father of the youth. Fritz Lange immediately paid the twenty-two dollars and another twenty-five for the cost of the proceedings. Everyone went home happy. It didn’t take over five minutes.

A week later Fritz Lange stopped by. I should go with him to his Chinese, he said. They wanted to thank me. So I went with him. We went down into the cellar, all eleven were there and so was the young red-haired rascal Murphy.

They were very polite to me, offered me Saki and a little rice. Then the feast began. It was pork sausage. They had been taken in once and paid dearly.

“We are not doing that again,” they said.

So they slaughtered their bride, and consumed her with enviable appetites.

I like to think that I am moderately open minded and unprejudiced. I am no food critic, but it was a bit too much for me.

*Von elf Chinesen und ihrer aufgefressenen Braut. Hanns Heinz Ewers ~ 1926

“How Eleven Chinese Devoured Their Bride”: translation copyright Joe E. Bandel

Original German version, via Spiegel Online Kultur: gutenberg.spiegel.de/buch/grotesken-7613/3

Image: Hanns Heinz Ewers, ca.1900: “Blood is Life”

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the-lunar-mistress · 5 years

Text

Never Ending Survey: Sazlethan Mahvash

Rules: Repost, don't reblog, tag 10 blogs!

Tagged by: @captainkurosolaire

Tagging: @unkemptandtired @shadowheartxiv @clouded-vxle @quantum-milktea @glorified-thieves @bluebell-bluebird @yisu-xiv @fortress-and-flame @muted-howl @othard

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Sazlethan Mahvash

NICKNAME: The Lunar Mistress, Hingashi's Viper, Lulubell Vixen, Jewel, Saz

AGE: 63 (appears to be in her late 20's)

BIRTHDAY: 18th sun of the 6th umbral moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Rava Viera

NATIONALITY: Othardian

LANGUAGE/S: Dalmascan, Hingan, Old Auri, Common Eorzean, some Thavnairian

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

HOME TOWN / AREA: A small village in the Golmore Jungle

CURRENT HOME: Hingashi

PROFESSION: Madame of The Viper's Nest - dancer's guild and lounge. Informant, assassin, and arcane specialist for The Court of Thieves. Black market Alchemist.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Snow white, often worn in a braid, pulled up into an intricate design with pins, or in wild untamed curls

EYES: Celeste green, hazy violet

FACE: Sharp angles, unnatural beauty, freckled

LIPS: Full, plush, and pouty

COMPLEXION: Tawny brown

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Burns on the palms of both her hands that are covered in ink, and whip scars littering the surface of her back.

TATTOOS: A tattoo of vieran origin along the bridge of her nose and chin. A moon tattoo of similar design between her breasts. And finally runes in the shape of an elemental wheel are printed on her palms and feet in aetheric ink.

HEIGHT: 5 fulms 10 ilms

WEIGHT: 153 ponzes

BUILD: Toned, curvaceous, and feminine. Built like an athletic dancer. In pristine physical condition.

FEATURES: Freckles, wide set eyes with lush frosty lashes, iconic black lipstick

ALLERGIES: ...people.

USUAL HAIR STYLE: Fitting for the occasion. However, it does fall to her ankles and she will never cut it.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Stoic, calm, and relaxed.

USUAL CLOTHING: Often tight revealing clothing or flowing dresses. Expensive fabrics inported from all over the realm. Notable colors being black, deep violet, and gold. Lots of jewelry.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Deep waters, drowning, abandonment

ASPIRATION/S: Unknown

POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming, tactful, diplomatic, romantic, idealistic, peaceful, intelligent

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Indecisive, detached, a trouble maker, superficial, self-indulgent, devious

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

SOUL TYPE/S: Scholar

ANIMALS: Snake

VICE HABIT/S: Drugs, sex, alcohol, and violence.

FAITH: The Kami

GHOSTS?: Of course. They never cease their rambling..

AFTERLIFE?: Yes.

REINCARNATION?: (Unknown) Bituun

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Centrist

EDUCATION LEVEL: Self taught

FAMILY.

FATHER: Unknown

MOTHER: Unknown

SIBLINGS: Unknown

EXTENDED FAMILY: Unknown

NAME MEANING/S: Moon-like

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: ???

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Anything she can get her hands on

DEITY: Unknown

HOLIDAY: All Saints Wake

MONTH: October

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: Some secluded cove in the middle of nowhere

WEATHER: Warm, a light breeze, night

SOUND / S: Silence, hissing, screaming, moaning, howling, singing

SCENT / S: Lavender and cedarwood, sex, sweat, blood, rain

TASTE / S: Blood, Sahnti's cooking

FEEL / S: Expensive fabrics, skin on skin, flower petals, steel

ANIMAL / S: Snake, coeurl

NUMBER: 1

COLORS: Black, gold, purple

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Alchemy, dancing, singing, killing, manipulation, magic

BAD AT: Making friends, remaining stable

TURN ONS: Physical beauty, blood, unwavering dominance, intelligence

TURN OFFS: Weak minded people, filth, ignorance

HOBBIES: Hedonism, performing, people watching, baking, reading, playing instruments, stargazing

TROPES: Femme Fatale, Lady of black magic, The Ophelia

QUOTES: “Even in the wild submission is not given, it is earned. A wolf will not expose it’s throat because it’s told it should. Why then, would you expect a human being to do less. Earn it.”

“All was dark yet splendid–”

“If you want change, you have to invite chaos”

“Lick the blood from my hands and tell me you still love me.”

“Why should I apologize for being a monster? Has anyone ever apologized for turning me into one?”

“It is a sweet and precise torture.”

"I heard you call to me in my dreams. I heard you weep...and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard..."

"Please...stop talking. If I cared about the words coming out of your mouth, I would not be trying to actively read the ones in this book. You understand now? Good. Now leave me."

"Did you just...pull my hair? For gods sake woman have some class. This isn't a bar fight."

"Do you think I'm bothered by the idea of spilling your blood? Sweetheart. The very ground you stand on is soaked with my sins. But go ahead and keep screaming. Let me feast on the terror I see in your eyes."

"Did I stutter? Clothes. Off. Now."

MUN QUESTIONS.

"Go ahead. Scream. Let me hear the results of my efforts on your tongue."

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1: I'm pretty bad with coming up with names. I don't know honestly. I like names that are symbolic and don't tell you anything about the movie till the very end. Like a song whose title isn't in the chorus. It would definitely be erotic and R rated. High fantasy without any restrictions. Dark, magical, and probably a bit of a psychological horror. It would be about all those Unknown details no one knows about her. A bit of a narrative.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2: Haunting sympathy pieces. I dunno like...HANS ZIMMER THANKS

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3: I was really depressed about a year ago. Writing her was a way for me to dump and cope with all those negative emotions without feeling bad about feeling the way I was. Her character and the way I write her is very raw and passionate and relatable.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4: Sazlethan is a small part of me but she is also everything I'm not. Probably even what I wish I was. She's sexy and smart and could care less about what anyone could possibly think about her. She perseveres through the situations I put her through and grows for these things even when it gets rough. And I admire the strength he has and the dedication she puts into her passions. She always gets back up on her feet.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5: It is literally impossible for her to settle down and build any kind of relationship. She gives a little and then just disappears.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6: Wine, sex, zodiac, and minding our own damn business.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7: Saz is vengeful and I can't fight. She'd most definitely kill me.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8: Characters who don't play by the rules.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse?

A9: Movies and music

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?

A10: Can I sleep now?

#tags #thanks for the tag bb!#sazlethan mahvash #survey

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harelan · 5 years

Note

Can we have the fluff and angst asks with Matilda and Solas 😔...

oh FUCK yeah babey!! thank u griff 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

1. What are things they both find funny?

they’re often dry and snarky with other people, which amuse each other. alone together they usually do stupid deadpan humor. solas seems very serious but really his sense of humor is just niche and very subtle unless you know exactly how to get at it, which matilda does.

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

answered here

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

answered here

4. What would be their ship name?

listen there’s just not a good combination of matilda/tannen and solas. solen? tanas? TAN ASS? “ma ghilana vhenan” fits them well as a descriptive/poetic phrase.

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

i cannot stress enough that they’re basically inseparable from the attack on haven until the temple of mythal, however long that is. they do everything together. solas is an absolutely horrendous cook but he helps as best he can, they eat all their meals together. they spend hours in bed reading separate books together. they go on walks or rides together. when he’s painting, she’ll sit on the sofa and crochet to keep him company. they explore the fade together literally every night.

6. What is/are their love language(s)?

they have quality time. unique to solas is words of affirmation, unique to matilda is acts of service.

7. Write a ~300 word love scene for them.

how great his responsibilities, how short his time, and how he could not help himself.

it was early, early morning, mist curling off distant fields as the rising grey sun burned it away, in a silent, secluded garden off a little stone manor house, all but drowning in ambling wisteria vines, such that the rough bricks beneath them were hardly visible.

a lack of courage in facing the front door had brought him there. the garden, half in shade and all in bloom, was almost enough, so steeped was it in her. he could almost breathe in the smell of every herb she ever cooked with as it grew here, and know that matilda’s tender hands planted them, and he could love her and go without ever troubling her.

almost enough. he fingered one of the petals as if he'd never touched a flower before.

he had been content to receive occasional news of her, content to linger, mostly unnoticed, in her dreams. content to shoulder the burden of longing heartache and imagine that it granted her freedom.

as his hand dropped from the flower, as though he had summoned her with the motion, the white-painted door that led into the house from the garden opened. were this the fade, this was the moment he would have vanished. but it was not. he was stuck, stiff, in this solid, sluggish earth, bare feet sinking into the soil. he could not flee, and so he gaped.

matilda was half-way to putting up her hair, red waves gathered but not secure, and she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. more beautiful than he remembered: how could simple, fallible memory ever do her jusice?

she froze, too, and gaped, one foot on the neat clay tiles just inside the threshold and one on the rain-wet dirt, and she searched his face with a sequence of silent whats and whys and hows that came in shadows across her face. and then her face crumpled, and he only had time to see her eyes water before she threw her arms around his shoulders, and buried her face in the crook of his neck, and they were pulled by their collective weakness to their knees in the dirt.

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

ok so. matilda is waylayed on her way to the conclave with her retinue, she and a handful of other mages get cornered in a keep in the hinterlands and lysas asks the inquisition to go find her bc fiona might listen to her. that’s the setup.

anyway solas already knows who she is before they officially meet and he respects her marginally as an influential player in the mage rebellion. he also immediately respects her magical ability because when they fight their way through the templars to reach her, she springs a trap on them and could definitely have killed them if she wanted to.

matilda doesnt kill them mostly because of solas. he’s the mage in the party and she’s willing to believe him if he says they’re not with the templars. so she immediately trusts him more than she’d trust most people.

9. Have they made each other cry?

OH BOY HAVE THEY.

she cries during crestwood like straight up in front of him. he waits to cry until later. uhhh they’re both prone to bouts of Angst about one another between the breakup and trespasser, which sometimes end in crying. matilda cries during trespasser mostly because she’s afraid of him, and that just tears him up inside. listen they cry a Lot that’s what solavellan is FOR

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

im so sorry i literally cant write arguments i’m not argumentative enough to relate

11. What causes them to fight?

not a lot? they both have very few things that they care strongly enough about to fight about, especially solas, and the things they DO feel strongly about, they agree on.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

a little. obviously matilda is more attached to this world and more eager to identify herself with it. but like lmao in general “stop enslaving/imprisoning people, stop treating people like second class citizens” they agree on. the underlying philosophy of the inherent freedom owed to all sentient beings, they agree on.

though theres the big difference where he wants to end the world and she doesn’t but, yknow.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

there’s not a lot, man. i mean, with sufficient reason they’d do literally anything for each other, except i think kill one another, which, in case da4 doesnt happen or is bad, matilda fucking GAMBLES on during the Final Confrontation.

like i’d say matilda wouldn’t kill for him, but she would, if he persuaded her it needed to happen for some necessary reason. yknow? this is a cop out answer.

matilda wouldn’t kill an innocent for him. solas... listen i don’t know what he wouldn’t do.

14. What would be a dealbreaker?

again, no dice. home boy straight up came out and said he’s a godlike being hellbent on ending the world and she’s still like heart eyes at him. i don’t know that there’s anything matilda would do that would make solas stop loving her. like there are things she could do, but nothing realistic. she’s not gonna start torturing and enslaving people.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

now this is a good question.

solas is too secretive. he refuses to take moral stances on things and will turn around and lecture her about seeing things in black and white when she does. he’s too often unsympathetic, unemotional. and he’s hypocritical.

matilda is modest to an at-times modest degree. he always expected that -- that she would insist on playing second fiddle to everyone in her life. she lets anger cloud her judgement on too many things, damn the consequences.

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other?

for the purposes of this question, since they’re still in love and want to be together, i’m not considering them really broken up. mutual “this isn’t working, we should end this” though -- they’d probably still be friends, honestly. they’re in love because they respect and trust one another and just because they decide to break things off doesn’t mean they stop clicking.

although, given the other real life dudes like solas i know, he’d probably be the kind of guy to cut all contact with exes. matilda definitely tries to be friends with her exes.

#dont @ me im proud of that love scene #im MUSH good BYE #carly tells tales #carly's ocs #oc: matilda #x: ma ghilana vhenan #nathanielhowes

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clonerightsagenda · 6 years

Text

Here are my collected thoughts, so far, about the ASOUE television series as a whole. I'll preface this by saying that I really enjoyed it and it was one of the best book to screen adaptations I've seen. It was fun, visually appealing, pretty darn faithful to the original material, full of Easter eggs for fans, and skillful at adopting supplemental material to flesh out the story. Some more organized thoughts below:

Unreality

Every time I started a new season of the show, I had to get re-accustomed to the rapid fire, almost stilted way the characters deliver their lines. However, I think that's intentional, along with the way that the outfits look more like costumes and the settings look more like sets than the real world. It gives the whole show the feel of a historical reenactment on TV, like we're watching a simulation of what Lemony could uncover with his research. Once I got used to it, I liked it, along with the overall surreal atmosphere.

Olaf

At first I found it odd that both the movie and TV series make Olaf far more of a humorous character than he is in the books, but book!Olaf is legitimately scary. Watching a sinister grown man terrorize three children for 25 episodes might become too distressing to function well as entertainment. Allowing us to laugh at him occasionally breaks the tension, even if it does fundamentally change his characterization.

The desperate for approval angle in the third season was also new (as far as I can remember, I haven't read the books for a year or so) but I can see where you could extrapolate it from his general theatrical behavior. As I mentioned in my commentary about previous seasons, the TV show is more of an ensemble cast rather than focusing solely on the Bauedelaires' story, so it makes sense to give Olaf some sort of arc as well if we're going to keep cutting back to him. It further undercuts his menace, but they'd already done that. It allows the show to push harder on the parallel between him and the Baudelaires as he complains that every parental figure in his life died or let him down. We may or may not pity him, but we can begin to understand and respect the children even more for not turning out like him. That also helps set up the strange, unfamiliar situation where all his confidence and power is stripped away in The End, since the tv version slimmed that down.

VFD

This is probably the change I found most frustrating, but to be fair, it wasn't a change at all from the books. ASOUE!Lemony is pretty nostalgic about VFD. Most of the more straightforward clues that neither the firefighters or firelighters were really great are present in the unauthorized autobiography. It might have been tricky to work the whole 'We stole children and brainwashed them into donating their fortunes to finance our organization for years until half of us decided burning down their houses and stealing the money right then was way more satisfying' without distracting from the Baudelaires' story. I get that. I'm not entirely sure how I would've done it. (I will probably let you know once I think of an idea.) Anyway, we still get the chef's salad speech and hints about moral grayness (the fire fighters created the mycelium, Olaf's accusations, grooming children to be secret agents and dragging kids into dangerous missions with no preparation, etc.) but framing the opera incident as an accident stole the series' best example that allegedly noble people can do wicked things just as wicked people can do noble things. It dropped a lot of the inner conflict from the last book as the children tried to grapple with their parents’ legacy. Their parents’ past research ends up saving their lives, but their past actions were part of what triggered this long series of unfortunate events. That ends up robbing the series of a lot of its complexity, especially since it spins the schism as a much simpler issue.

The Ending

I wasn't sure how they would pull off giving the show a more uplifting ending after having the narrator announce multiple times that it was going to be unhappy, but honestly I think having Lemony not know how things turned out past TPP until the last minute was a brilliant way to handle that. It gave us some much needed closure not only for the Baudelaires (we don't know much, but we know they're alright) but for minor characters (ymmv but I enjoyed the more sympathetic henchpeople and am glad they're ok) and for our long-suffering narrator himself. I loved the meta gag of seeing Lemony writing the first book and then quoting it with Beatrice; I'm always a sucker for that kind of thing. As a kid, it was valuable for me to read a series that suggested adults aren't always right, things aren't always simple, and happy endings don't always happen, but right now, I want to think that they can. (Plus, some stuff in the Beatrice Letters and a few throwaway lines in ASOUE imply the Baudealaires survived anyway, so it's not a total divergence from canon.)

The Randomness and Unfairness of the World

Snicket warns readers the ending will not be happy or satisfying, and the books certainly fulfill that promise. You don't really know what happens, and there's a possibility some of the main characters drown or were eaten by a sea monster. The show obviously does not do this. I already mentioned that I preferred this based on our rather distressing modern times, which could also be described as an incomplete history of injustice, but what about theme? A big theme in the books is uncertainty and randomness. The Baudelaires are dropped in the middle of something they don't understand and are shunted from place to place, victims of adults' complicated machinations or genuine incompetence. There's a lot they don't know and will never find out, and the reader is left in their shoes - stuck only knowing what the children learned or Lemony was able to uncover. We're shown over and over again that the world is not fair. It does not always makes sense. It is not interested in tying up loose ends for you. I think that's a valuable message for kids to see, dark as it is. It's realistic, and we're supposed to share the Baudelaires' distress and confusion.

The show does not stick with this theme. Consistently, it reveals things that were only hinted at in the books. Viewers get to stay a step ahead of the Baudelaires. As I mentioned in commentary on previous seasons, I think that ends up working because the TV show spends a lot of time expanding the universe, although it does rob the impact of scenes like the children realizing the underground passage from 667 Dark Avenue goes to their house. We're no longer as lost in the world as they are.

I think both have their place, honestly. The books allow us to relate very closely to the protagonists, while the show creates a more satisfying holistic experience. Since many of the viewers have read the books, it's almost like we're gifted with the benefit of hindsight.

Does giving us answers ruin the theme of the book entirely? YMMV, I think. It does mean we lose something, I think. However, Handler didn't leave all the gaps in his narrative to torture us. He doesn't hand us the answers, but he provides plenty of clues in the series and its supplementary material. By piecing together that apocrypha, you may not be able to answer every question, but you can take a good stab at it. So I don't think Handler wants you to be a frustrated reader as much as a critical and active one. That's hard to do in a television show, so they had to lay more out there. They're different: different formats, different themes, different reader/viewer experiences. Imo, both are effective at what they try to do.

#asoue//#asoue spoilers//

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darlingstardust-fics · 6 years

Note

bokuaka mafia au????

(Hey!! Thank you so much for stopping in~ I pondered all day over what scenario I would write them in, so I really hope you like what I have chosen (and if you are willing, definitely give me any feedback! I am always happy to improve!) Please enjoy~!)

The smell of blood, the sight of red, the sting of black eyes and missing teeth, and a flash of white was what Keiji was used to these days. He was trained at a young age to be an elite bodyguard to the only son in the most prominent Yakuza family the nation had ever seen, and while he did his job well (very well, he might emphasize. There was no room for failure under the Bokuto household), sometimes he didn’t have to lift a finger - his boss was hot tempered enough to beat whatever poor bastard crossed Koutarou’s path at the wrong place, wrong time.

And it wasn’t as if Bokuto Koutarou was heartless. He was the polar opposite in his nature, and if anything, he really was just a big baby with a tendency to pout when he didn’t get his way, cry when something was sad, and take naps in the middle of the day and get crabby when he was disturbed. He liked cute little animals like hedgehogs, rabbits, owls, cats, and small puppies, and would let his little cousins put bows in his hair, make up on his face, and polish on his nails. He liked romantic movies and slow, sappy songs - love stories where love wins and everyone gets to live happy in the end. He was also fair and easily forgiving, and he loved to hear the whole story and the truths of everyone he worked with, being an easy man to talk and relate to, given his rather spoiled upbringing. He knew what his underlings wanted and when their businesses suffered. He had a voice and used it for good to make the lives of everyone around him better. He really was a good man. They were qualities that made Keiji begin to fall in love with him, helplessly and hopelessly.

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t be one mean son of a bitch.

The moment that Keiji had come into the family, he was witnessing Koutarou become the future head of the Bokuto empire, his father teaching him all of the tips and tricks that were passed down from father to son for centuries to prepare him for the day that would make him the boss. Keiji never had a doubt in his mind that Koutarou would learn his father’s ruthless ways and become just like him in his ways of dealing with bad apples in the businesses they owned and the partners that would screw them over. Koutarou, of course, learned his civility through his father as well, but also got his hard ass attitude. Even while Keiji was training to become Koutarou’s bodyguard, he had a hunch that he really wouldn’t have to do half the dirty work, the older boy already holding his own from temper alone.

So, there they were. It was a regular housecall to a drug addict who figured he could swindle money from Koutarou’s family and get away with it by signing the contract with a fake name and changing all of his contact information immediately after. Koutarou and his father searched for months and finally found the guy in Miyagi. It took one phone call to the Sugawaras and a sentence to Koushi to allow Koutarou permission to travel to Miyagi and pay the man a visit himself - Koushi even promised to ‘persuade’ the local police and first responders to ignore any tip about Koutarou’s business with the man. Koutarou genuinely tried to talk to the thief, knocking on his door and waiting patiently, asking slowly and kindly to talk to him so they could discuss and make a payment plan or something of the like. Keiji witnessed it all, and would testify to Koutarou defending himself as he beat up the man for pulling out a gun, firing, and the bullet grazing his bicep, the fabric tearing clean on his pure white button up.

It made the young boss snap and the addict knew he had fucked up when Koutarou jumped on him and started demanding answers in between playing wicked games with the man who wronged him.

When Koutarou had finished and the man laid on the concrete floor, exhausted and giving in, Keiji had finally spoken up. He was quiet the whole way there and he was just as calculating as the mafiosi before him (albeit, more composed), hands twitching beside his own firearm as he watched Koutarou, ready to intervene the minute he had to. His voice was soft as he glanced from the thief fading in and out of consciousness on the floor, to Koutarou as he controlled his breathing and wiped the blood from his knuckles to his designer black slacks. “I think you were a little rough. Why torture the poor man when I could have killed him properly?” He questioned, his own clear denim eyes looking up at the pretty honey ones burning into him. “You could have saved half the time, Bokuto-san.”

“Pah!” The man waved his hand and gave Keiji a smile that made the younger’s stomach flutter (from adoration? maybe a slight fear?). “That guy is the type of person who needed to learn a lesson, Kei-ji~ Besides…” The mafiosi looked back at the heap of limbs and blood, eyes darkening, narrowing. Venom was laced in his words as he finished his thought. “No one fucks with me and gets away with it.”

Keiji just looked back to the man. He was slow to approach him, but he moved forward, his oxfords clicking on the ground with every step, stopping moments before he knelt before the man, watching him as he was watched back. He felt no sympathy and no pain as he reached for the thief’s back pocket and grabbed his wallet, taking his cash. Standing up straight, he tossed the cheap leather wallet back at him, the sound of it slapping against the concrete echoing in a single staccato. Keiji was quick as he turned around, handed the cash to Koutarou, the both of them leaving as they had arrived. And quickly.

The rides home from excursions like this were always quiet. Keiji never really knew what to say and Koutarou was the type of person to get down on himself for resorting to violence as easily as he did. They were about twenty minutes into their car ride home to Tokyo when Keiji was startled out of his reverie by Koutarou wincing; upon looking over, the mafiosi was holding his hand and looking at his knuckles. Keiji looked over and reached out to gently caress the other’s hand, looking at the broken and raw skin when it was placed into his palms. “…We’ll have to wrap this up properly when we get home.” He murmured and started to look all over the back of the car for a first aid kit. Since this wasn’t Koutarou’s first (or his last) time flying off the handle, they were smart and kept at least a small one, just in case. He was glad to at least find some cleaning pads and bandages in a small pouch, starting immediately.

Koutarou held his breath as Keiji gently wiped the wet cloth over his hand, whining because of the sting that jolted from the wound to his spine. “Stop, stop, it hurts…!” He grit his teeth and almost felt embarrassed when Keiji gave him a bit of a dirty look. Keiji had that way of making it known to Koutarou when he was acting like a child with a single look or gesture.

“Koutarou, if you don’t stop and relax, I can’t help you. Then that mean old maid your father likes will have to help you,” the guard scolded gently. It made the older of the two sit still with little complaint. He had finished quickly, the bandages helping for now, since most of the blood was dried in the first place. “There. Good as new.” He gave a soft smile. He was about to let it go when Koutarou’s hand squeezed his a little bit. It caused Keiji to look up, denim meeting honey. “…Yes, Bokuto-san?”

It took the older to reply, just leaning back against the seat and watching Keiji through the passing lights of the highway. Keiji felt like he was someone special when Koutarou watched him like that and he felt his heart thud. And then he spoke. “You said my name…I love it when you say my name.” His voice was soft like summer rain and Keiji had to look away. It was rare moments like this where he could feel comfortable in his crush revolving around the future head of the most powerful family in the country. And he knew Koutarou liked him too.

“…Will you kiss it better? Like you always do?”

The question was innocent, but it made Keiji blush and feel a burn deep down that he knew only Koutarou could conjure out of him. It made the guard feel like his time with his boss was more than just work. He couldn’t explain it, but being a bodyguard and confident was what he had felt in terms of who he was to Koutarou. On more of a personal level, he knew they would end up as more. It was just a matter of time.

He humored him, as he always did and gently brushed his hand over the soft skin of his hand, the back always being Keiji’s favourite part ever. It had honestly started out as a joke from when they first sparred together and Keiji had cut Koutarou’s shoulder (”Kiss it better! It won’t heal otherwise!”). Now, after years had passed from that first time, it almost felt incomplete without it. And Keiji had to admit that he almost did miss the most important step in Koutarou’s healing process.He was drowning in his own thoughts of infatuation to forget about it in that moment, but he would remember not to next time.

He was slow to press his lips against the cloth, giving him a heartfelt kiss as he closed his eyes and held on to that moment.

No, he wouldn’t forget again.

#bokuaka #Bokuto Koutarou #akaashi keiji #bokutoxakaashi #haikyuu!!#hq!!#one shot #fanfic #ao3 #ask prompt #answered

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