#if there's one thing about me it's that I love some grotesque body imagery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idolkilling · 1 month

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THIS BLOG IS 21+ ONLY FOR OCCASIONAL SEX, VIOLENCE, & “DEAD DOVE” THEMES. All depictions of crime or taboo are for fictional character exploration and not endorsed in real life. Please read my carrd before you follow. Last updated 08/2024. twitter｜ao3｜toyhou.se @killshopdeluxe — misc/reblogs

Hi I’m Kill ! Fibromyalgia having broke ass OC drawer and writer… welcome 2 my twisted mind (mostly shitposts and gay ikemen). I love RP and OC interacts, so feel free to toss your OCs at mine any time!

More info + taglist below 🕺🏻✨

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🚕 SOCIALS

This is a sideblog. I generally follow and send asks from @idolkilling-alt, but may use a different primary depending on what you post—I curate my dashboards by subject matter, and idolkilling’s is focused on OCs! That said, feel free to engage regardless of what sort of blog you run; I love to chat! :D

@killshopdeluxe is where I will mostly be reblogging things (OC-related, misc, and fandom) and making personal text posts, to keep this blog organised!

If you know me from my previous kink-focused blogs—I’ll remake them! Just give me some time to set up ^^

My other socials are listed above, but I’ll go into depth here as well!

twitter — I tend to only post my art/writing or RT friends’ works on main, but if we interact a lot (off-anon, naturally), you can request to follow my personal and doodle alt ! I’m always yapping there 🫡

ao3 — Where my polished writing is hosted! It takes me a long ass time to complete fics or edit RPs though, so I’ll share WIPs/unrefined pieces on this blog.

toyhou.se — My list of active OCs! I try to keep their profiles short and sweet, so please ask me about any of them you’re curious about!

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⚠️ MY WORKS: TERMS OF USE

DO NOT repost my original work to any site, inclusive of using my art as an icon, banner, or background without express permission.

DO NOT use my works as reference material, inclusive of tracing my art, studying my style, or taking heavy inspiration from the designs or stories of my OCs. I am a small hobby creator, not a big IP, so people piggybacking off my works to make their own—especially with the intent to publish or monetise—is hurtful (and has already happened several times). TT

DO NOT tag my OCs as your own characters or use them as references/RP claims.

Any media IP fanworks I make can be reposted ¹ or used without permission, as long as I am credited with a link back to one of my socials. That said, if I have already posted the art or writing to the intended site (eg. Twitter, Tumblr), please just boost my original post.

¹ caveat: Please do not post my art onto TikTok 🙁

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💫 INTERACTING

Fanworks of any kind featuring my OCs are welcome—and feel free to have them interacting with your own characters! If you make anything, please @ me and tag #idolkilling! This part is optional, but feel free to also tag the full names of the OC/s depicted (written below in the “TAGLIST” section) ^^ If I miss your post, please PM!

PMs are currently unavailable for this blog, so please use @idolkilling-alt or my Twitter if you want to message me privately (though I’m not very good at one-on-one conversations ahaha). Alternatively, feel free to invite me to your (dark fiction-friendly) group Discord servers, or join one of my own!

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🪐 TAGLIST

It should be noted that I will not usually tag specific warnings for sensitive content, nor will I use Tumblr’s built-in censor/blur. While the majority of my works on this blog are fairly tame, please beware of occasional (untagged):

violence, gore, body horror, and other grotesque imagery

depictions of abuse or other toxic/taboo dynamics

suggestive or outright sexual imagery, often featuring RACK or monsterkink

For the most part, my “dead dove” works are on the subtler side, but it is there! If I feel like anything is darker than usual I’ll tag #dead dove: do not eat, in case anyone wants to mute such content.

Personal

#🌻kill.txt ｜ #🌻kill.abt — personal posts and info

#🪻blog.new ｜ #🪻blog.abt — blog updates and info

Content Archival

#📧OC Q&A — general trivia on my OCs, as well as ask responses

#📁MY OUS/AUS ｜ #📁OTHERS’ OUS/AUS ｜ #📁MEDIA IPS

#📁MISC SOLO ｜ #📁MISC RP — works that do not have any specific fleshed out setting

#📁MY OCS ｜ #📁OTHERS’ OCS ｜ #📁MEDIA CHARACTERS

#💘SHIPPING — specific ship tags in “OC-Related” subsection

#🎨ILLUST ｜ #📝WRITING — my own works, sorted into the subtags #scrawls, #rough, #clean, and #coloured as well as #drabbles, #oneshots, and #ongoing respectively; #WIPs and #showcase are used for both

#💞TREASURE BOX — works featuring my OCs by other people

#💛OTHERS’ WORKS — works by my OC collaborators! :D

OC-Related

I use an OC’s full name for art, writing, and any information on them (in response to asks or in general musings) I find important/vital. I may sometimes include works by other people in their main tags if I feel they represent the character’s vibes well to people who are not yet familiar with my OCs! I’ll usually tag other people’s OCs by their full names as well, unless the mun has their own tagging conventions (in which case I’ll follow suit).

Most characters’ full names are present on their Toyhou.se profiles, but I’ll list relevant ones here as well (especially since Xero and Velo’s are busted LMAO):

Xero Ouroboros Flamel Nocturne Jabberwock Lacrimosa etc … if you don’t want to remember all that Xero | Ouroboros is fine!

Dimitri Andreyevich Noskov

Reis Cordis ｜ The Lord of the Flies ｜ Navid Veisi

Umetarou Sano Lecce

Velo Velocity

Dr. Evening Threnody

Beyond that, I’ll use their shortened name + a descriptor to organise posts, as follows:

#[OC] by others — works featuring the character by other people

#[OC] info — self-explanatory; includes responses to asks

#[OC] answers — asks or replies where I draw/write the character responding directly

#[OC] core — random things that remind me of the character

Rounding back to shipping, each pairing or polycule has a main generic tag, but may feature subtags indicating top/bottom or D/s order (for sexual, suggestive, or otherwise ‘charged’ works). The Eastern fandom practise of ordered tags is important to me, as oftentimes AB and BA are their own separate dynamics completely!

#Arizona — ANTE × Zion (Ram’s)

#Atomic Zero — Xero × Zeta (Ram’s)

#Knife Life — Xero × Killer Girl (Kumkrum’s)

#TBA — Dimitri × Minkyu (mihlen’s)

#TBA｜dimieros, xerodima — Dimitri × Xero

#TBA｜navitarou, tarounavi — Navid × Tarou

#TBA｜taroureis, reistarou — Tarou × Reis

#TBA — Xero × Minkyu (mihlen’s)

#TBA — Zeta (Ram’s) × Dimitri

They’re all just listed in alphabetical order since I wasn’t sure how else to sort them ahaha. (Also this section is currently WIP as I upload more art/try to think of generic ship names… Bear with me 💀)

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🍳 BLOGROLL

People I OC with a lot 🤼 !!! Check out their socials 🥰

@mihlen｜twitter｜ao3｜toyhou.se

@ramsauced｜twitter｜toyhou.se

@enigma-sanctity｜twitter

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🌻 ABOUT ME

I’m Filipino, born and raised outside of the mainland United States (though I’ve sadgely lost my fluency 😔) and somewhere in the East Coast now. I’m non-binary (femme [not a woman] + transmasc) and aroace (-spec). I got that dog (chronic disability) in me so I’m often languishing in bed like a Victorian prince with tuberculosis (but we ball). Instead of having conventional mento health struggles I got hit with the niche and silly beam (OCD/C-PTSD among them) :( I suffer the paradoxical curse of being both a high-maintenance extravert who never shuts up and extremely, painfully shy…

Creative works are just my hobby and I do [vague office things] as a job. An assortment of media I like can be found on my carrd, but in terms of recently popular fandoms, I enjoy Trigun and Deadpool & Wolverine ! I’m mostly a film guy, though. Beyond fiction I have old person interests like buying seasonal produce, home improvement, and tailoring.

I pretty much exclusively blog from PC—please give my blog’s theme a look on PC browser if you get a chance! :D

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#🪻blog.abt #🌻kill.abt

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bennydunbar · 6 months

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CW: Gore, mention of gore, detailed imagery of said gore, self-harm. DO NOT CLICK [KEEP READING] IF THESE WILL NEGATIVELY AFFECT YOU.

So basically my Twitter has been littered with straight up graphic and real gore and it's been bothering me A LOT. I mean like, the face-of-a-dead-guy-is-plastered-in-our-head kind of problem; some of them are from the Palestinian genocide because I've been retweeting about it, but being slapped with uncensored bodies is very very triggering and it's just not exactly helping with the fact that we've been trying to not cut ourselves for the past 5 months (we don't actually keep track but it's been a while)

The first video was a retweet from some random user. It's not of a real person, but it's very graphic, with the ribs being exposed and the skin of the back being torn open. That image has been sticking in our head for a few days

Second one was of a real person. A dead journalist being ran over by the Israeli apartheid. I think it was his face that really stuck around, because it made me want to throw up. The limbs were all mingled and he was covered in dust. He was literally flattened. I know people would probably tell me I'm sensitive but yeah I am, especially when it's a real person. There's more on our Twitter and I'm just going to keep what's left of our sanity and not use it for a while

Uhm so anyway we're horribly shit at coping so I'm just gonna make a headcanon of YB's perspective on this. I'm not gonna tag this because this is more of a vent and I'm not dragging our ass to another state just for another therapy session

He's probably not exactly bothered by gore, since he kills people. But I suppose he would be a little worried when he sees us throwing up at the sight

Oooh that would probably make him more careful when it comes to getting rid of his victims?

He kills people in the name of love, or when he doesn't have a choice but if he's aware that you would be negatively affected by how grotesque the bodies could look like, he would make sure to instantly get rid of them

I don't know. Have him bug my phone to censor things I wouldn't want to see, maybe

Don't mind the poll, I accidentally clicked on it and I don't know how to get rid of it

#thought thunk

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toothfairyofficial · 1 year

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you're so right!! still getting my labcoat on as we speak though

anon, what is it YOU love? i love my bisque dolls and my Precious Moments collection and vintage books and old computers and I love picking things up off the road and finding textures and I love when I go to the thrift store and see a whole collection of things that I'm sure is because someone who loved those things passed away and now those things will be scattered and loved separately, in new homes. i love finding papers with random notes on them that will never mean anything to me. i love collecting mugs and teacups and teapot imagery even though I can't stand the taste of tea or coffee. i love tearing apart old things to make collages, repurposing junk mail into something beautiful. our bodies are collages too, of bone and sinew and genes from our families whom we might love and might hate and usually it's somewhere in between. scars and marks and tattoos collected, some voluntary some not, all new things stuck onto the canvas of our bodies. i love when someone talks for hours about things I have no personal interest in, and I love when someone has an interest that opens my eyes to new beauties in the world. when I was still talking to that friend, the one who loved teeth, I sneakily took pictures of my x-ray during my dentist appointment and sent those pictures to them. i still think about them every six months when I have an appointment and how they saw the beauty in the mundane and grotesque. people who love things change your world. permanently.

what is it you love?

#froggy speaks #i got carried away sorry im unmedicated currently

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lauvra · 1 month

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Another day walking down the street singing songs with my dad -- both of us totally tone deaf. Yesterday he'd had a particular book on his mind, an autobiography by Rubin Carter written while he was wrongfully imprisoned. I led him to the small used book store on Johnston street knowing the odds were low, and he walked out with a copy in hand. Another sleepless night meant today while eating lunch out with dad, I could feel my energy draining attempting to metabolise in real time. I hadn't felt like that since living in Brisbane, going to a doctor about my lethargy and low moods and being told there was nothing wrong with me. I went vegan soon after that. Our plan was to see Longlegs at FOMO cinema, but I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Realising the Palace cinema at Pentridge (the old prison and final resting place of Ned Kelly's remains) was along the Sydney rd. tramline, we headed in for an earlier session while eyeing the large stone walls of the prison. Dad wondered aloud how many people had excaped, and answered rhetorical questions posed in commercials just as every girl-dad should. Nicholas Cage is acting some of the most interesting roles of his career in rapid succession in my mind, I'm not sure this was one I'd see again though. The characters didn't feel fleshed out but there's a joke here somewhere. My dad told me a story I'd never heard, he has a few tattoos on his chest and biceps but the masterpiece is on his back. A friend of his had laid down on the train tracks so he'd always intended to get his birth and death dates across one of the tombstones in the piece, but never did. Then he told me that he'd planned to extend the road and add a horse and carriage, then he met mum. He spent many years outdoors in the sun, so hopefully one day we can drag up photographs of the piece early on because I remember loving the imagery as a kid. I'd stare at it and search for things I'd missed amongst the figures, landscape, grim reapers and other creatures. I used to look at his Iron Maiden vinyls and stare similarly fascinated by the grotesque depictions of Eddie. He said he thinks they did him a favour during a stint because people seemed to respect it. Creating cohesive body art is so underrated and while I appreciate ignorant style tattooing to some degree, I feel like the truly labour intensive aspect of planning and collaborating on large individually tailored tattoos is magic and remains as niche as it ever was. I've heard a piece of an artist's soul dies each time they tattoo the infinity symbol. These Queenslanders are gonna check out what the fuss of AFL is all about, and I'm actually eager because (and maybe this is shocking) I actually really enjoy sport. I should say: watching sport. Touch football was one of my favourite inter-school activities; I simply wasn't any good at it but I'm very competitive in nature. Maybe that's obvious.

#me #word

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erigold13261 · 6 months

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You like monsters. Gnarly teeth. Horror aesthetics. And that’s totally valid!

I fucking love monsters so much! I advocate so badly for monster films and how horror now-a-days is a lot more psychological or supernatural horror instead of slasher or monster.

Like I'm pretty sure that's because of the times (like there's a theory that the horror of the time period reflects the populations fears either in a direct or subtle way), but I want to go back to good fucking monster designs in horror movies!

All to often it's just a person with makeup on! (and I don't mean prosthetic makeup, but like literally just body paint and nothing else) I get that it might be a budget thing, but I really want to see stuff like the Xenomorph or Jeepers Creepers (I know how bad that series was/is because of the creator, but I genuinely loved 1 and 2, one of the only series I would say that I liked the sequel more than the orignal. 3 fucking sucked), like full on monsters who barely look humanoid or might not be human at all!

Anyway, it's also funny how you say I like gnarly teeth because I didn't even think of that! Though I do love me some teeth. I've had plenty of dreams of eating teeth and LOVED pulling out my teeth as a kid and looked forward to dentist appointments where I knew I would get needles in my mouth to numb my gums in order to rip out my teeth. Heck I even ripped out two totally perfect baby teeth that weren't loose while watching Insidious (I think it was that, or the Conjuring, idk) because I was having fun! (also one of my favorite songs is Losing Teeth by The Scarring Party lol).

Definitely love me the horror aesthetics! It brings me comfort! Probably because I started watching horror and death shows when I was way too young. First horror movie I watched was either the Fair Haired Child or Dead Silence. One being a horror movie that ended in love and one that revolved around puppets and dolls, both having grotesque imagery and contorting bodies.

So those two movies probably had a greater impact on me than I realized considering how much I love mannequins, puppets, dolls, and why I associate love with horror!

It could also be that I was neglected as a kid, which is why I was able to watch things like the Human Centipede when I was like 10 years old, and used those horror movies as comfort to my anxiety riddled brain to try and cope with death so I saturated myself with death and horror in the hopes of finding love in the subject but all it did was fill me with more anxiety which then turned horror characters into love interests because that was the only way I could take that subject/genre/thoughts and make it "good" enough for me not to have constant panic attacks of dying.

(Off topic, but also there was this horror movie I watched even earlier than that, like I was definitely around 5 or 6, where these people were at some point in a mine shaft/cave system and were running away from this ghost who was under the control of this guy who would drop his blood on the ground to make the ghost kill people. I watched it around the same time as I watched the first Tremors movie, but I can't find the ghost movie. I think the main characters, a guy and girl, won by feeding the blood guy into a rotating machine through control of the ghost somehow, but that might be an entirely different movie I watched as a kid around that same time. Heck the movie might not have been a horror movie at all, it could have been a different genre or a tv show idk, I just know that those scenes stuck with me and I want to try and find that movie/show again).

Okay, you probably didn't want to read my little psychoanalysis of myself, but I had fun! (it's always fun seeing someone tell something about me that I didn't realize and me trying to find out why I do said thing). Thanks for sending this ask in! :D

#eritalks #noart #asks #love analyzing why i do shit!#i keep forgetting i had a pretty shitty childhood #probably because i lost myself into media to forget about it #which is also probably why i love horror characters so much #they are broken just like me!#or at the very least look fucking amazing #:3

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 1

all trussed up and still nowhere to go

“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2

warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation

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Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.

But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?

Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.

The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.

It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.

So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of.

And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.

For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours.

Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.

Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.

He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick.

A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily.

But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.

“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”

Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain.

“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”

Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.

“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”

She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.

There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.

He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.

He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.

But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.

“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”

His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat.

“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”

Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.

Calamity Ganon was obeying her.

____________________

masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

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theeslytherinslut · 4 years

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12 Grimmauld Place (8/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black (post-Azkaban) x reader, Remus Lupin x reader’s brother, Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader

Word Count: 2,130

Warnings: gross imagery

A/N: Next chapter will have the trio! Don’t worry the smut is inbound, I love me a slow burn lol. I have a feeling this will be a fairly long story, possibly pushing 20 chapters cause I’m only just coming up on the storyline I had in mind lmao

As Snape pushed open the hospital wing doors, the girlish voice you'd heard earlier returned, and this time you were stunned to find it was arguing with Dumbledore. Surely no student in their right mind would argue with Dumbledore.

“I’m afraid that whatever is behind that door doesn’t concern you, Madam Undersecretary,” Dumbledore said serenely. Glancing warily at Sirius, you found him giving you the same look. So it wasn’t a student. You recognized the title as well, possibly from filling out paperwork for work. Work...the Ministry...Sirius Black sitting right next to you, a very much wanted Sirius Black.

“Sirius, it might be best you transform now." Madame Pomfrey said before you could. Sirius shot her a shocked look, and she shook her head. "Oh, don't look so shocked. Of course I know--and I'm not the only one, you know. Now, go on. I don’t believe that woman is going to be sated by Dumbledore.”

And sure enough, a second later, the woman pushed open the doors, and Sirius’ hand slipped from yours. Looking over, in Sirius’ spot sat a large black dog, panting slightly. Bewildered, you stared at Sirius’ new form as a small, toad-looking old woman pulled back your separating curtains.

“What is this?” she hissed, looking to Madame Pomfrey. She was dressed entirely in an alarming shade of pink, which made her resemble a bubblegum ball. Feeling slightly nauseated, you tore your eyes away from her vivid color, but not before noticing her face was also pink in agitation.

“This is a patient,” Madame Pomfrey responded icily, barely looking up from your leg. Thankfully, it seemed she’d ceased her draining until Sirius was able to support you once more.

“She isn’t a student, what’s she doing here?” the woman asked, barely looking at you.

“She used to be,” you retorted, stung by the lack of empathy. She seemed not to hear you, but instead stared expectantly at Madame Pomfrey.

“I shall treat any who seek medical attention, regardless of their status within the school.” Madame Pomfrey said, drawing herself up to her full height.

“I don’t believe that’s your decision to make, dear.” the woman said in a sickly sweet voice. Your temper flared.

“As Headmaster, I bestow upon Madame Pomfrey the ability to treat whoever she sees fit. So, unless you plan to bodily remove Mrs. Y/L/N, I don’t see why this conversation can’t be continued in a more conducive setting. I do believe we’re keeping Y/N’s wounds from being drained.” Dumbledore said, gesturing down to your leg. “Decaying drought,”

The woman let out a ghastly noise as she looked down, and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, that’s nice. Really love being gasped at, as if being mauled weren’t enough.” you quipped, unable to hold your tongue. Sirius growled at the woman, and her eyes fell to him.

“There! Now that can’t be sanitary, can it? It’ll have to go,” the woman said, reaching out to pull Sirius from the room. It seemed she was determined to assert some sort of authority over the situation. Sirius growled more loudly and now raised himself to stand on all four legs; whatever dog breed he’d chosen was massive, and he stood almost as tall as she did. Looking at him, he looked truly terrifying. His long fangs glinted in the light pouring in from the massive windows and his hackles were raised as he viciously growled at the squat woman before you. He looked more wolfish than like a dog.

“I’d advise against that, Madame Undersecretary. I do believe he holds a certain affinity for Y/N. Dragging him from her bedside might not get you the results you so wish to receive.” Dumbledore smiled fondly down at Sirius, who still stood barring his long fangs at the woman.

“Well,” she gasped, pulling her short, stubby hand from Sirius’ reach. “Cornelius shall be hearing all about this, Dumbledore. I must say it is most unusual for a prior student to be treated by staff during the school year, nevertheless joined by her mangy mutt.”

“I should expect nothing less,” Dumbledore said, serene as ever, “Now, shall we? Unless you wish to see the effects of an expertly made decaying drought on the human body?

She made a face and peered back down at your angry leg, and you were sure to meet her gaze with an icy glare. She cast a look around at the group of you, and you suddenly remembered Remus’ unconscious body in the next compartment. Hoping she wouldn't look around, you held her eyes with a glare. Thankfully, she seemed unable to find anything worth staying for and allowed Dumbledore to sweep her from the room.

Madame Pomfrey let out a string of words that made you proud, and you smiled at a now human Sirius, his hand slipping back in yours.

“That was Dolores Umbridge. Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and by all accounts, simply the very worst of humanity.” Sirius explained, absentmindedly running his thumb along the outside of your hand. Madame Pomfrey still bustled about agitatedly, but you knew she’d soon return to you.

“What’s she doing here? Surely Dumbledore would never hire such a horrible woman?” you asked. It’d been a while since you’d been at Hogwarts, but that you knew.

“Of course not. She was placed here by the Minister. Fudge is becoming intensely paranoid--and about all the wrong things. As I’m sure you’re very much well aware of, he refuses to acknowledge,” and casting a look at Madame Pomfrey, he cut himself off, “You-Know-Who’s return. Instead of dealing with the real enemy--the only true enemy of the whole of the wizarding world--he instead has set his sites on Dumbledore. As I’m sure you’ve read, he’s already got the Daily Prophet to work on subduing and poisoning the public against him and his claims. They’ve even begun to go after Harry now, too. Cowards. Complete and utter sodding tossers, the whole lot of them--”

“Sirius, there are students in here,” Madame Pomfrey hissed, swatting him lightly with an empty medicine bottle.

“Sorry, Poppy. Anyway, Fudge -is so deluded he thinks Dumbledore is using Hogwarts to train up young wizards for a fresh, formidable, wizard army.” Sirius said

“He’s what?!” you laughed, sure he must be exaggerating.

“He’s gone completely round the twist. Thinks Dumbledore’s training up all these children to get them to storm and take over the Ministry. Utterly fuck--sorry, completely nutters. So, he’s placed Umbridge at Hogwarts, fulfilling both the vacant position of Defense Against the Dark Arts and a fiercely loyal mole. Word is he’s working on drawing up the plans to take over the school completely. This just being the first of many steps.” Sirius explained. Madame Pomfrey leaned in and gasped at his story.

“Take over the school? That wretched woman?” she said, holding her hand to her mouth in horror. Sirius nodded grimly, and a look of intensity came over Madame Pomfrey’s features.

“Well, I don’t cave so easily,” she said, sniffing haughtily at the thought of being under Umbridge’s thumb.

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Sirius smiled up at her.

“Gryffindor?” you said, shocked. I mean, it made sense for Madame Pomfrey to attend Hogwarts in her youth, but you’d never really thought about it--much less what house she’d belong in.

“Yes, Gryffindor, but I never let that cloud my judgment, Slytherin,” she sneered playfully at you. You and Sirius let out a laugh, yours dying much quicker as she came back towards you.

“Alright, dear, last one. It looks like his pinky claw didn’t quite reach you,” she said, grimacing as she spoke.

Wrapping my fingers around the bed frame and Sirius’ hand, you nodded.

And like always, it was hell. Screaming, you tried to quiet yourself, but it was to no avail. Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as she worked her way down your leg, pushing out the rotting flesh

“Y/N?!” a voice yelled groggily. Cursing, Sirius slipped from your grasp and disappeared from view. Despite Sirius’ absence, Madame Pomfrey continued.

“Almost done, ‘few more seconds, dear,” she said.

Casting a look down, your head spun at the image below you. Your limb looked more zombie-like than human. It was a horrible mixture of deep burgundy, black as the infection ran down your leg, and purple from your enlarged veins highlighting here and there.

“Remus! Contain yourself!” Sirius scolded. You knew you should shut your mouth to calm him, but it didn’t seem possible with the imagery added to the sensation. Finally, she stopped, and you fell back against the pillows once more, vision blacking round the edges as you fought to regain your breath.

Then, what sounded like a dull thud followed by a groan sounded, and Remus burst through the curtains. What he saw brought him to his knees.

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s not as bad as it looks?” you said, trying to force out a laugh. It came out as a strangled cough, though, as your throat was raw from yelling.

“It’ll be alright, Remus. She’ll be fine by this time tomorrow, come on,” Madame Pomfrey fretted over Remus, and you could see her soft spot for your brother remained.

“But...” he trailed off. Words seemed to fail him, and he gestured weakly to your grotesque limb.

“Well, sit down, drink this,” she said, forcing a lavender-colored liquid into his slightly shaking hands. “Calm down, and we’ll explain. If you go roaring off again, I’ll have to knock you out with something much stronger than the last,” she threatened, lowering her eyes at Remus. With a sudden fondness, you remembered her disdain for chaos in her wing.

“Oh, Sirius,” she sighed. He’d just come in clutching a bloody nose, but seemed amused rather than angry.

“Remus!” you said, shocked at your brother.

“It’s quite alright, love. If someone were trying to keep me from you while you were screaming like that, I’d do the same.” Sirius smiled at you. A tingly feeling brewed in your chest at his words. “Excellent right hook, Moony,” he complimented, bowing slightly at his friend.

Tonks followed in soon after, rolling her eyes at the two of them. You met her eyes, and the both of you mouthed ‘men’ at each other whilst shaking your head.

As Remus laughed weakly at Sirius and downed the rest of the liquid, a small boy in scarlet and gold came to collect Tonks. With a wave and a glance back at Remus, she was gone. The effects of the potion were instantaneous; his hands ceased their shaking, he sat up a little straighter and took a deep breath.

“Now, then,” Madame Pomfrey sighed, “Her leg. It seems our favorite furry little friend seemed discontent with the marring effects of his claws alone and dipped them in what we’ve found to be a decaying drought.”

Bracing yourself for his reaction, you were extremely shocked to find him reasonable still.

“You’ve got Severus making the antidote, then?” Remus asked logically.

“I’ll take a dozen of whatever that was for later,” you breathed at Madame Pomfrey. Remus was such a reasonable, logical person in every situation, except when it came to you. When it came to you, however, he was much more reminiscent of his wolfish counterpart.

Everyone laughed lightly at your comment, and you sat up slightly, most of the pain fading.

“So, what now?” I asked.

“Now, dear. You rest. Though, I daresay at some point your friend here will have a trio of visitors,” she said, twinkling at Sirius.

Sirius smiled in realization, and you were happy he got to see his godson early--even if it did take you suffering from a poisonous werewolf attack.

“I’ll be staying, Poppy,” Remus said, pulling up a chair. You opened your mouth to reason with him, but he stopped you by lifting his hands, and you sighed--there was only so much the potion could do.

She cast wary glances at Sirius and Remus.

“You know, I don’t believe there was a single night in which the two of you were in here that didn’t end in various bangs, pop, and screams.” Suddenly, her demeanor was very intense and McGonagall-like. “The first will be tonight. Or you’ll both end up in an empty cot!”

“Poppy, we are adults, you know,” Remus reminded her, smiling lightly.

“Oh, like that ever stopped you lot,” Madame Pomfrey said, giving them each a stern stare as she left.

“We’ll be on our very best behavior, Poppy,” Sirius said solemnly, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

“You two will be the death of me,” she sighed, whisking away back to her desk, a concerned look on her face.

******************************

Taglist: @geeksareunique @fredweasleysbitchh @green-intervention @stopbeingcurious @ @blackbirddaredevil23 @pan-pride-12 @deathkat657 @theeicedamericano

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helisol · 4 years

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dude im not sure you will get it after reading this either, but you Can read it now

okay so first of all do not expect me to adhere to rules of grammar or Proper capitalisation, I am writing from the heart

so it’s been said before by other people but if Quark and Odo didnt look like the aliens that they are but instead like two regular prettybois the fandom would do cartwheels over their dynamic and Not call them a crack ship. because really, their dynamic fucking SLAPS and I’m here to tell you Why.

their surface-level dynamic is “Respected and Talented Security Chief and Cunning Immoral Businessman who are in Love but pretend not to be” and that's just an off-brand version of enemies to lovers! which is excellent and for some people that’s all you really need to get invested in a ship.

but some people look at it and go “Hm, no, that’s not enough. I mean, they work as friends but it doesn’t really have to be romantic.” and to that I say you are Absolutely Valid, not everything has to be romantic.

it just so happens that these two fuckers have one of the most compelling romance stories ever, and it’d be a shame not to explore it.

so before I dive into the internalised homophobia and repression, I’d like to take a moment to talk about Quark as a character.

because if you have brainworms like me you can kind of see that its an honest to god greek tragedy.

this guy comes from a race of people where being kind, ethical and fair is considered Abnormal and Horrifying. and I’m not gonna call Quark out of all people kind, ethical or fair but,,,

you ever notice how he’s A Much Better Person Than Pretty Much All Other Ferengi?

dont get me wrong, Quark is still a bastard, but every once in a while his True Character shines through. and I say True Character because guys,,, the way he behaves around other people is an Act. he’s pretending to be something he’s not.

he has to try so hard to be a good ferengi it’s honestly painful to watch at times. because he is a SHIT ferengi!

he loves his friends- because that's what the ds9 crew are. they’re his friends! and it makes him miserable because that's not! normal! for a ferengi!

let’s compare Quark and Rom for a second.

Quark reeks of self loathing because a lot of the time he just Doesn’t act like a ferengi is supposed to, and this drives a lot of conflict in the show. he knows how a ferengi should act, it’s just that he can’t!! fucking!! do it!! but he still tries and tries to fit into that mold, which straight up ruins his life on multiple occasions.

Rom is also not a Model Ferengi, but he lives without hating himself. and it’s mostly because he doesn’t care about how a ferengi Should act, he’s loved and cared for even when everybody knows that he’s a shit ferengi! because his non-ferengi-ness works to his benefit. it encourages and highlights his abilities as an engineer. the success and love he finds make it easy for him to be content with his true self. Unlike Quark, who doesn’t get unconditional love from anyone.

its so!! tragic!! because you can see what Quark is really like!! his true self!! he’s a nice guy who cares for people!

its right there all the time and it's so blatantly obvious. especially in episodes like “Body Parts”, “Bar Association”, “The Way Of The Warrior” and “Ferengi Love Songs”

his own wiki page literally calls him “a compassionate and generous man by ferengi standards” which pretty much translates to “not really a good ferengi”.

anyway so Quark is a tragic figure or whatever but we’re actually here for the REPRESSED! HOMOSEXUAL! TENDENCIES! that he and Odo both exhibit.

with characters like garak you don’t really need to have brainrot to pick up on those tendencies, because that was something andrew robinson chose to do, on purpose.

and to be fair, Quark wasn’t intended to be Any kind of representation, not even by the actor. I’m just pointing out that he Does look and act and talk like a little gayman.

I will admit that he is Painfully Straight in the text of the show, but on a meta level he’s just. a dude who has a serious case of repressing his real personality. and taking it a step further- he also represses his feelings towards another man.

and that man is Odo.

a few things on him:

Odo is literally desperate to be a person. unlike Quark, who at least has the comfort of belonging to a society of people with a set of rules and expectations, Odo has never met anyone or anything like him in all his years of life.

like, we all know Odo basically grew up in a lab, right?

with people who didn’t know anything about him. who he was so unalike that they literally called him “Nothing”

but he still learned to look and talk and act like them (because if he didn’t he’d feel *pain* which is very fucked up by the way?)

so we know for a fact that Odo wants to be recognised as a person- which is why he tries really hard to conform to the ideals of the society that raised him. instead of exploring his nature as a shape shifter he maintains a humanoid form, picks up a job and creates an entire personality around what he wants to be seen as. but not what he really is.

and that's the thing that causes all the conflict between Quark and Odo. the type of person odo wants to be seen as is the polar opposite of whatever the fuck quark wants to be seen as.

In the same way that Quark acts like a Normal Ferengi, Odo acts like a Normal Security Officer. and in a cruel twist of fate, the Ferengi happens to be the antithesis of the Security Officer.

If you only look at them as the things they act like, and not the things they are, you might say they’re way too different to like each other, right?

but,,, if you think about the fact that they’re both putting on this act,,, this performance of idealised versions of themselves,,, you can see that they are The Same. They Are Both Gay Repressed Loser Aliens Who Try To Act Like Things That They Aren’t!

Imagine you’re Odo.

Imagine that you’re Nothing, because you’re not like anything anyone has ever seen- and because you are Nothing you don’t fall in love with anyone for years and years. since who could love something that isn’t like them at all?

But then one day this Thing shows up in your path and you just hate it. Because it’s not like anything *you* have ever seen. It’s disorderly and looks grotesque and it’s criminal to boot.

It’s all the things you learned would make a “Bad Person” It’s everything you aspire not to be, because if you were any of those things you would BE PUNISHED.

But the trouble is, eventually he’s not an “it” anymore, he’s “Quark” and you see him every day of your miserable little life because you live on the same damn station in space and it’s hard to avoid each other.

He also happens to be one of the only things in your life that are constant. He will never leave because he is stubborn and greedy and you just *hate him so much* that you’re convinced he must be doing all of it to spite you. And yet you also can’t seem to leave him alone.

So Odo Must Hate Quark. everything else is a non sequitur for him. he can’t not hate Quark.

because Quark is, and i’m sincerely sorry to apply christian fucking imagery to this, The Forbidden Fruit.

If he liked quark he’d admit some kind of moral failing. it would be the end of his act. but on the other hand...it might be a good thing, because at least he could have quark.

but Odo can never go through with biting into this apple because the consequences are horrifying to him. he could never have quark because, according to his performance, he would Never like quark to begin with.

and here’s a take for you: Odo's Brand Of Internalised Homophobia Doesn't Stem From Heteronormativity. It Stems From The Fact That He Was Kind Of Assigned Asexual At Birth.

and the show sort of alludes to this, for real! not just subtext! canon! except the writers used the wrong person.

because instead of Odo having these Forbidden Feelings for Quark he has them for,,, Kira.

but since this is My Quodo Manifesto you’ll understand that i am 100% willing to just toss that part of canon out the airlock.

so Odo does canonically have that mindset of “no one could ever love me” for decades he repressed any and all feelings of love to avoid getting hurt. in the show he breaks this cycle of repression when he takes a chance and enters a relationship with Kira. yay?

but we all know that aint it chief. and part of the reason why That Ship Ain’t It is the fact that Quark is Right There. and he is simply the more interesting choice for odo.

he and Odo literally share the same problem and have weird intertwined character arcs! they are both dreadfully afraid of not conforming to the ideal versions of themselves, so they reject everything that could challenge their Performance!

on some fucked up level they hate each other *and* themselves individually. and this hatred makes them reject parts of their real identities for the sake of protecting their image. which. yknow. in gay people. is internalised homophobia!

so you can see that they’re both repressing A Lot even if you view them as Friends, but the most important thing in this kind of romantic dynamic is usually,,, when the characters *stop* repressing.

and the thing is. the thing that Kills Me with these two. They Never Get That Moment. Thats Why You Need The Brainrot To See Them As Romantic.

The Ascent gives us an example of what happens when they both take their act too far. I mean, who could forget “Fascist!” and “Fraud!” That is what odo thinks of quark’s performance and vice versa, but we don’t really hear them adress the fact that they *are* playing these roles to a ridiculous extent.

We also never get an example of what would happen if they dropped their act instead of over-performing it. or rather we don’t get to see both of them drop it.

And the reason why we never get that moment is because there’s this one key difference between Quark and Odo.

Quark knows that he’s constantly repressing his true nature and his feelings for odo. We pretty much hear him say so in the iconic root beer scene in Way Of The Warrior. he knows that he’s not a good ferengi but he keeps up his act.

So quark is aware enough to feel that sweet sweet self loathing. But Odo isnt self loathing as much as he is just self sabotaging.

and this subtle difference between them is why, at the very end of the show, we get “That man loves me, can’t you see? It was written all over his back!”

this moment is quark dropping his act and asking odo to do the same. he wants to hear a genuine Goodbye from him because they have known each other for Decades and they are Friends. but odo is so unable to express the feelings he’s been repressing all these years. that he self sabotages again and just walks away.

even though this is like. very anticlimactic. considering I just spent 2000 words talking about how Odo and Quark are Most Certainly Gay For Each Other.

The fact that their ending is so Weird is the reason why quodo is so engaging and appealing to me? especially post-canon quodo.

like, the amount of “what if’s” this ship has are Astounding.

What if either of them had dropped their act a little sooner? What if they both did, for just a moment, and it was the straw that breaks the camels back?

What if Odo comes back after a few years? What if Quark comes to get him?

What if, in that moment in the finale where Quark drops his act, Odo had returned the gesture? What if Gag-Reel Quodo Kiss.gif Real?

with the depth that I read into their relationship, those what ifs are really fun to think about.

anyway its 1 am and i’m not an english major so literary analysis is not like, my strong suit. plus most of this was written in a late night screaming session with a friend who has the exact same opinions as me. i just think aliens hot and in love. thats all.

#the SOUND of my HEAD hitting my DESK with TERMINAL VELOCITY #quodo #star trek

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 2 years

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Secret Diary Reviews... Crimes of the Future!

So, David Cronenberg must be old as fuck by now, but he hasn’t missed a beat. I just finished watching Crimes of the Future, his latest weird-ass masterwork and its… subtly brilliant. But before I explain why, I should probably explain who Cronenberg is for the benefit of the wet-behind-the-ears whipper-snappers among you who missed Videodrome and his other early efforts. To whit: Cronenberg is a master of body horror, a very specific subgenre that focuses on all the terrifying ways the human body can be distorted or spontaneously betray the person riding around in it. He’s known for creating horrifying, fleshly realisations of our most grotesquely biological nightmares and parading them on-screen so that we can all be grossed out and frightened by them. His work, while schlocky, is primal and taps into our innate fear of decay and bodily revolt. It’s often melded with the politics of the year or decade in which the film is made, too, so that the body becomes a metaphor for our societal condition. And it does all this without being a load of pretentious wank.

And then, there’s Crimes of the Future, which is set up like a body horror film, but isn’t one. It’s got all the hallmarks of body-horror. People performing surgeries recreationally? Check. Gooey close-ups of human innards being toyed with in ways you’d prefer not to look at? Check. Sexual perversions centred on cutting into the human body being presented in the most disturbingly sensuous way possible? Big fucking check! Actually, I don’t recommend having this film playing on your laptop while other people are in the room trying to do their own thing (like I did, because I’m an idiot) as there are MULTIPLE scenes of naked, blood-covered men and women taking pleasure in having their bodies cut up and rearranged. It’s not the kind of imagery you want to inflict on your loved ones if they happen to walk past or glance screenwards at the wrong moment. But I digress. Crimes of the Future goes out of its way to look like a body horror… and then isn’t.

So what the fuck is it? Well, that’s not an easy question to answer with spoiling anything, but I’ll do my best. Our central character is an artistically-inclined chappie named Tenser whose body keeps growing new, seemingly extraneous organs that he really doesn’t want, referring to them as cancers and the product of a genetic syndrome. Throughout the course of the film, he encounters people who are growing new organs and have actively embraced them; people who have had surgery to change their bodies and both governmental and corporate organisations that want to control or limit the creation of new bodily systems because they believe that humanity should remain unchanged. Ably assisted by his lovely surgical assistant, Caprice (yes, the name struck me as a little on-the-nose as well), Tenser navigates this world of conflicting interests and ultimately… changes his mind.

And that’s it- the crux of the film; the point on which it pivots. It’s not about the horrors of the human body, but about accepting. It’s not about fearing fleshly change but embracing it. All the elements are there for Tenser to become a monster or have to survive one, but he doesn’t. All the elements are there for him and Caprice to end up violently at odds with one another, all their weird fetish-sex turning to hate and violence, but by the end of the movie, it’s obvious that they’re very much in love and who the fuck cares if they use a living Giger-esque nightmare machine to explore each other’s bodies? They’re not hurting anyone… except each other, and they seem pretty into it.

In short, Crimes of the Future is a film about self-acceptance and about learning to live in harmony with one’s own body and its changes. Is it a perfect film? No. A lot of the dialogue is just David Cronenberg announcing to the world ‘OKAY! I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT [INSERT SUBJECT HERE]!’ Plus, the film drops a few too many plot-threads that might have been interesting if they’d been allowed to somewhere. But, though imperfect, Crimes of the Future is one of the most scintillating and worthwhile cinematic experiences I’ve had in a while. What’s more, taken in conjunction with the rest of Cronenberg’s oeuvre, it shows a rather heart-warming trajectory. In his early films, Cronenberg was expressing a fear and disgust for the human body, suggesting a deep distrust of his own. But with Crimes of the Future, Cronenberg seems to have finally accepted the divergences and unpredictability of the human body in general and, perhaps, his own in particular. It’s a deeply personal work that represents the end of a long, internal struggle for the director. I recommend it.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #crimes of the future #david cronenberg #cronenberg #body horror #sci fi

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mediaevalmusereads · 3 years

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Nobber. By Oisin Fagan. London: JM Originals, 2019.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction

Part of a Series? No

Summary: An ambitious noble and his three serving men travel through the Irish countryside in the stifling summer of 1348, using the advantage of the plague which has collapsed society to buy up large swathes of property and land. They come upon Nobber, a tiny town, whose only living habitants seem to be an egotistical bureaucrat, his volatile wife, a naked blacksmith, and a beautiful Gaelic hostage. Meanwhile, a band of marauding Gaels are roaming around, using the confusion of the sickness to pillage and reclaim lands that once belonged to them. As these groups converge upon the town, the habitants, who up until this point have been under strict curfew, begin to stir from their dwellings, demanding answers from the intruders. A deadly stand-off emerges from which no one will escape unscathed.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: blood, gore, violence, body horror, misogyny/sexism, animal abuse and death, bestiality, attempted sexual assault, ableism

Overview: I don’t know how to rate this book. I recognize the artistic value of it, and I think Fagan executes his intentions well. The question just becomes: did I enjoy or find intellectual simulation in the reading process? I think the answer is yes, but I also think the answer is “eh... maybe.” So, I’m confused, and if the author wanted me to be confused, then I guess job well done. Three stars on account of confusion.

Writing: Fagan’s prose is well-crafted and extremely emotionally and viscerally evocative. Sentences and phrases flowed together well, and I liked that despite some confusing things happening on the page, there was no confusing syntax or unclear wording. I also appreciated that Fagan knew just how to elicit disgust (at least from me) with just the right imagery or just the right phrase. He doesn’t revel in lengthy descriptions of nasty things, but makes them seem incidental - and I found that to be somewhat unsettling.

Perhaps Fagan’s biggest strength is the ability to create an overall mood that I can only describe as hallucinatory nihilism. Characters would act in ways that didn’t seem quite logical or believable, but they seemed to have purpose - perhaps that purpose being to illustrate that sometimes, destruction (or suffering?) has no meaning. While I don’t know if I personally enjoy that kind of literary approach, it was at least evident that it was done on purpose, so props to the author.

If I had any criticism, I would say that I got rather tired of women being called “sluts” and “whores” so often. I saw this kind of language come up almost every chapter, and my personal tolerance for it became lower and lower the longer it went on. Some critics may counter with “well, the middle ages were sexist,” and that might be valid, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy myself or that historical accuracy is a valid argument here.

Plot: There’s not really a “plot” to this book, per se. Things happen, but I wouldn’t call them “plot points” that build up a grand narrative. Mostly, this book is about a town (called Nobber) that is besieged by plague, and we follow various characters as they navigate that plague.

I was kind of at a loss as to how to react to this book until the end, when I had the idea that maybe Nobber (and the surrounding area) is this space where all the bad gets condensed - a hub for the grotesque, if you will. Plague besieges the town, and no one can leave because of the curfew, so there’s this definite inside/outside boundary that seems to be important. I had that thought while reading about the crow cross (which makes no sense until you read the book) that marks the boundary of Nobber, and how characters acted once they came in contact with it (or in proximity to it). I don’t know if that’s a valid interpretation of Fagan’s work, but I found the book more easy to digest through this lens.

Characters: What to say about the characters...? They’re odd, but that’s an understatement. I didn’t find any of them likeable, but they weren’t supposed to be. I did find them alluring in a grotesque way - they rarely did anything that made logical sense, and many of them were (physically and morally) gross. But I don’t know... I couldn’t look away.

My favorite character to follow was Raghnailt - a mother who struggles with her feelings towards her adult son. I found her to be fairly complex, deciding to love her son fiercely one moment but being repulsed by him the next. Watching her try to figure out how to feel and how she tried to create a family around her was fairly touching, and I ended up really feeling for her.

TL;DR: Nobber is the kind of book that will probably appeal to fans of Irish modernism/postmodernism, but not to those looking for a historical fiction tale. With its focus on the grotesque and gaggle of unnerving characters, this book will surely appeal to those who enjoy literary explorations of nihilism.

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brownandblackpearls · 4 years

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📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.2

PART 2 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the first segment of your first date, attending a medical convention in Vesuvia.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. ☾ next

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Sitting across from Julian in this grand carriage is a fascinating journey all on its own.

The doctor is an eccentric one, telling you tales of wild cases, interesting cure possibilities, and lesser known homeopathic solutions to common Vesuvian ailments.

His sheer passion is more than enough to hold your interest, and hearing his innermost thoughts on his work is enough to spread the contagion of enthusiasm for this medical convention you were arriving upon. You were admittedly squeamish when it came to gore, but you did find an interest in the workings of the body, and more than that, you found an interest in him.

Unfortunately...you weren’t the biggest fan of leeches. When you let him know honestly, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“I apologize,” Julian says to you honestly, looking sheepish. “I should’ve realized.”

You shake your head, smiling.

“It’s quite alright. Your line of work is very different from what I know. I simply manage my estate and related businesses, but you...? You help the people of this city. If you say leeches are a helpful medicine for people in need, then I’ll believe you and do my best to rid my trepidation. At least, for this evening.”

Julian stares at you for a long moment before suddenly reaching across the space between you for your delicately-gloved hand and kissing it soundly, intimately. His eyes focus on you through dark lashes before he lowers his gaze as well as your hand.

He clears his throat, sitting back stiffly.

“I…that was forward of me. I must beg your forgiveness.”

“Yes,” you agree in jest. You found nothing wrong with the act, regarding it as more endearing than anything. Clearly, the doctor liked the fact that you were happy to try and see the value in the world he clearly loved so much. “You’re forgiven.”

Julian seems to deflate at your words instead of soothe, wrangling his fingers together anxiously. He forces a laugh and nods, looking out the window. Had he missed your humorous tone...?

You don’t like him looking dissatisfied. You like him looking away from you with that wary expression even less.

With a slow, confident reach across the space, you use your own hands to gently cup his anxious one. Raising it between you both, you pinch the fingertip of his thick, leather glove before slowly lifting it off to unveil his hand of its leather casing. It is easy to pull his large hand towards you and observe the white, open palm.

His hand is large, long, and elegant for a doctor’s, yet clearly worn in certain places from fervent use. He must help so many, with these hands. Your mind drifts to other possibilities that those long fingers may be capable of, but you settle yourself quickly.

No need to rush. Not in courtship.

Instead, you use the subtle imaginings to move your lips, pouting and pressing them long and gentle against the palm of his hand. You linger there, flicking your gaze up and watching him freeze through the gaps of his fingers, before pulling away with a sweet release. Your eyes flick down to the lipstick-stained kiss mark left on his hand.

Your mark.

Smiling with satisfaction, you gently tug his glove back on and pat his hand before releasing him.

“That was also forward of me,” you say casually enough. “Am I forgiven…?”

Julian fumbles, a hot blush crawling up his cheeks.

“Y-yes,” he barely breathes, leaning towards the window once more. You settle with the thought that it is for some air, likely...instead of apprehension.

You feel your own face heat from the thrill of the forbidden, enjoying the slight cover that your dark, warm skin gives you. It would take more exertion than thrill or embarrassment to reveal you. The act of kissing his hand had been deviant, but delicious, and you thoroughly enjoyed teasing the doctor. He probably had expected no mischief from a respectable, established woman such as yourself. He may have even thought he had to hold himself in a certain manner to gain your favor.

Little did he know, he already had it. You wanted him, and you wanted him to understand you better, as well as lower his guard around you. You were certainly high in the Vesuvian aristocracy circles, but you were human just as anyone else, and you could make the same mistakes...the same missteps...as anyone else.

Your idea seemed to work well enough. Mr. Devorak no longer seemed to be upset, or appeared as if he felt alone in his forwardness.

Now, he seemed bewildered, if not highly intrigued.

You were pleased to think that later on, when you were no longer together, that Dr. Devorak would still have your mark on him after the day was done. A pretty reminder.

But no more of that. The day was just beginning.

“Ah, there it is!” He exclaimed, beckoning you to the window. “That’s the hall the gala will be held in!”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Though you were never one to feel overdressed at any occasion, you could certainly feel the eyes draw onto you as Dr. Devorak escorted you towards the large building.

Leaving the warm space of the carriage allowed you a reason to stay close with him in the crowds. His offered arm is strong and warm, but you keep your admiration to yourself for the moment. You take it as if its second nature, letting him lead you both towards the great hall in an easy step.

Your eyes span the people crowding near the entrance way, and you realize there are several other young beauties here with courting partners as well. Perhaps this event was more popular for Vesuvians than you once believed? You were curious to find out about the draws of this event that you had been unaware of prior.

The doctor flags down one of the door staff, smiling. The doorman spots him and grins back, calling out his name.

“Dr. Devorak! Welcome, welcome. You’re on the list of course, so you can come right in. Here’s your pin.”

Your date smiles, allowing the man to pin a medical emblem on his lapel. You realize it is likely a determiner for others in the event to understand who he is, and know that he is also a medical professional participating, not just a socialite.

“My lady,” the doorman greets, bowing to you kindly before stepping back. You don’t miss the sly wink he shoots to the doctor, who funnily pretends as if he did.

You greet the man back pleasantly before allowing Julian to lead you both into the event, past the crowds.

“Oh!” You gasp aloud, seeing the dioramas inside.

There were huge displays of freeze-dried human musculature, stuck in stasis while posing as if they were alive. Some were running, others jumping, and some standing. You mistakenly thought before that such sights might be grotesque, but the preparers did such a good job in making all the displays neat, clean, and scentless, you couldn’t help but feel only fascination.

Other tables were covered in medical tools, some from ancient Vesuvian history, and others from the current times. You could spy syringes, hacksaws, casts, all kinds of tools and oddities. Another table held medicines, their respective bottled forms, only for the bottles and pills to be under-laid by the real ingredients that went in them. One bowl of tablets showed huge ferns beneath them, and you wondered to yourself how pharmacists and herbalists could ever mash up such large plants to fit into such tiny capsules.

You didn’t realize you’d forgotten to interact with your date since entering the hall until Dr. Devorak pulled up beside you, smiling as you gawked at everything.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You startle a little, turning to him with wide eyes. A smile comes to your face.

“Yes! Very!”

You point out the bottles to him, revealing the question that had run through your mind.

The doctor seemed highly pleased to hear of your interest, and even moreso to engage in it.

“Well, you see,” he began, “though some professionals settle for the old mortar and pestle, there are new devices made just in the last year to assist with the refining process! In my offices, we’ve also experimented with rollers, stones, pressers, as well as the normal affects.”

“Like what?” You wonder, leaning in.

“Oh…” He pauses, unsure of himself now. “I, erh...I wouldn’t want to bore you. Are you in need of refreshments? I can—“

“You’re very kind,” you insist, trying to redirect back to your question. He’s gotten you interested and now you want to know! “What affects did you mean? From before?”

He pauses, analyzing you for a moment before breaking into a somewhat fond grin.

“Well...things like heat or chill can help separate what we need from the ingredients used. Though I had to study all arenas of medicine and practice in my youth, I focus more on diagnosis, prescription, and research these days. I used to do surgery and medicinal preparations but with the recent expanding we’ve undergone, I’ve been sidetracked with indulging in more hypotheticals and innovation than tried-and-true practice. So, I’m very excited to see what my colleagues have come up with!”

You smile, watching him speak and taking in his words. He seems so bright, so glad and inspired.

“I am happy to hear your expansions allow you the pursuits you desire. It must have been difficult.”

The doctor laughs then, and it is a warm, rich thing.

“I am only lucky. I’ve come a long way, from dingy old ships to grand palaces. Compared to all that, starting my practice and training younger medical professionals was easy.”

You could’ve kept walking beside him, conversing easily...but suddenly, a group of older doctors crowd you both, eyeballing your date.

“Devorak!” One crows. “We’ve been looking for you! Grimmes delivered the best speech on those new splints you both collaborated on, I wanted to congratulate you.”

“Why, thank you!” Julian says happily, shaking hands. “Grimmes did more of the work, she’s a natural.”

He seems to be in his element, amongst all the chatting doctors. Another one steps forward, completely bypassing you and fixated on Julian. You felt like a fly on the wall, drinking up all the curious interactions. This conversation was a world away from politics, estate dealings, and nobility gossip.

“Did you see Asif’s chiropractor module? It was quite horrific.”

“Really...?” Julian wonders. “I thought he sorted out the vertebrae counts for the model?”

“So did we! However the model looked rather poor. Shoulders up to here!” The doctor explains, displaying what he saw by shifting his shoulders as far up as his body could manage.

“Goodness…” Julian worried. “Was his gait irregular?”

“Irregular? Why, it looked like he’d been hung up on a coat rack Devorak, starched to high hell, and left to waddle out the practitioner’s office. There’ll be hell to pay, that one.”

Julian shakes his head, sighing.

“I can refer the poor man to the southern branch if I see him. The one on Marigold? God knows the trainees could use the practice. Perhaps we can fix it.”

The doctors nodded their assent and boasted of Julian’s generosity, before finally glancing at you. They all seemed somewhat shocked out of their reverie, glancing between the two of you with increasing disbelief.

“Hello,” you greet, ringing off your name politely.

The doctors bow politely, before looking to Julian. An older one shoots him a wide grin.

“Don’t you worry about any referencing, Devorak. We’ll let him know, ourselves. You just focus on your engagement with the lovely young woman you’ve caught here.”

“Right,” another one agrees quickly. “Been holding out on us, haven’t you? Who are we to interrupt a courting? Enjoy! Ladies, gentlemen, to the tinctures tables!”

The others agree, bumbling off in their crowd to find more of the convention to see.

You watch them go before turning to Julian.

“How many practices do you possess?” You inquire. You are genuinely curious, but there is an underlying meaning to your question.

As much as you adore the doctor, these courting dates are very necessary to glean information from potential partners. Julian clearly held standing amongst the other doctors, and was regarded with much respect. You didn’t doubt his ambition or success. But...since he held no large property or titles, so you needed to see how he could help benefit your estate and those that lived and worked in your home. You also needed to ensure that he held few vices or flaws that would conflict with your own…it was a superficial process that could not be completed in one engagement, and you didn’t particularly enjoy seizing people up like items on displays, but…it was better to do it now while you could rather than risk hearts, coin purses, and marriages down the line.

Besides, you expected the same from Julian, to interrogate you on your end in his own way. You weren’t the only one with assets to think of, and liabilities to consider! And only a fool would assume a wealthy beauty is all they needed in a match.

You felt Devorak could be silly in his own odd little way...but he didn’t strike you as a fool.

‘Hmm. Marriage.’

You watch the doctor, your heart thrumming a little faster at the thought.

‘One thing at a time,’ you remind yourself. ‘I don’t know if I’m even ready for the convention with anyone, him included. Slow and steady wins the race.’

Dr. Devorak stands a little taller, pushing his shoulders back and preparing a bolder facade than you believed he actually felt. He seemed to understand what time this was, what the question really meant, and was eager to please with honesty and transparency.

He wanted to prove himself to you, you realize.

“I am but a humble man,” he begins. “I own one practice, with several branches throughout Vesuvia. It has grown to the point where I now simply stop by each one weekly, and oversee the operations. I have three locations in the city’s center, and five in the outer regions. Those locations range from general practices to apothecaries.”

You nod, highly impressed.

“Eight branches is hardly humble, Julian. It sounds very admirable.”

The doctor blushes, pulling at his collar and pretending nonchalance.

“Eh…well...”

“You must be quite good at what you do.”

“Well...It was not without considerable help, I cannot lie. In the beginning, I had a generous investor that believed in my vision and potential. That investor was the central Countess, and without her I doubt I could’ve gathered together the startup costs. But...I take pride in taking the best care of Vesuvians that I can. And so word spread, and now they come to us for all sorts of ailments and needs. We’ve fairly profitable year after year since. I..I could make more, raise prices, yes, but...I always wanted affordability to be important. Everyone in Vesuvia deserves access to quality healthcare.”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “Not many businessmen in Vesuvia are transparent about their journeys, and not many can honestly say they value ethics.”

You briefly review his words to yourself.

He was hinting near the end that though he had his personal reasons for not breaking his profits ceiling in a way that would truly impress a run-of-the-mill blue-blood, that neither he nor his businesses would be a liability to your estate.

There was another implication in his words that you couldn’t help but notice.

“You know Nadia…?” You ask suddenly.

“Yes! Do you…?” He inquires back, curious.

“Ah...yes,” you respond kindly, tightening your lips on why. You didn’t want to appear rude mentioning your other current courting potentials. Ritually, that was only to be used in situations of dire need for leverage. It was one thing to review each others ways of living and financials, whereas it was quite another to throw into the face of hopefuls…all the other hopefuls…unless asked, of course.

Julian seemed to catch on. He did not seem upset, though.

“Hm,” he wonders quietly. “...I am not surprised that you are getting house calls from all walks of Vesuvia.”

You pause, unsure of what to say. Had you offended him?

“I…”

The doctor is kind, and fills in the empty silence with warmth.

“I am just glad that you answered my letter, that I get to have you for myself today. I am happy that you like the gala and…I only anticipate enjoying the rest of our time together.”

You beam at him, tugging his arm closer to your body.

“I feel the same, Julian.”

He pulls you tighter as well, circling you both around the event to watch more displays and pass by speakers who were taking charge in different corners of the venue. You overhear some very interesting ideas and concepts, and Julian leans over every so now and then to comment on them in your ear.

Soon enough, Julian offers to take you for a break near the venue’s indoor patisserie. You agree joyfully, all too eager to spy the cute little confectionery cakes and pastries as the both of you walk up near the outdoor seating.

Julian hunts down a seat for you both amidst all the other couples, some wedded, some courting, and some just having a casual meetup.

He pulls out your seat gingerly for you, and you sit graciously. He takes his own seat as a waiter arrives, bringing you both a drink and dessert menu. Together, you and Julian order coffees and a cake to share before sitting back, watching one another.

‘Wait,” you think.

You realize very suddenly that the doctor is being too gracious in not asking on your situation in return, and so you decide to open the floor up to him so there is no risk of offending. Perhaps he is nervous because of your status...? Perhaps those things matter so little to him, that he is willing to break courtship convention to avoid asking after them...? Perhaps he is simply forgetful...?

“Is there anything you’d like to know about my estate or my courting season, Julian?”

He pauses, thinking to himself for a stretch.

“Well…I must admit, I know little about you besides what I saw from the theater and what I’ve heard from the grapevine. I’m not fond of gossip and would rather hear it from you, but...I knew so few in your circle...I know nothing, really. Besides your distaste for leeches of course, and your penchant for…” he coughs, adjusting, “….for...adventure.”

You giggle, covering your mouth before leaning in.

“You find me adventurous? Some would say I am just an aristocrat, perfectly happy to hole up in my estate with no influence on the outside world. Not like you. You do so much good.”

He shakes his head, frowning.

“Don’t discount yourself for me. I…I do know of your philanthropy around Vesuvia. Generous donations for the citizens, for the disenfranchised. That is good in its own way. And class is no barrier to who possesses the heart of an adventurer and who doesn’t. You proved it today.”

“How?”

Julian laughs.

“Like you know few honest businessmen, I know few women of your stature who would eagerly come here for a first engagement. Especially after my confidant revealed that I had sent an inquiry letter in a poor manner, to a poorly-picked event. You came—and even better—you enjoyed yourself.”

You gift him a wink.

“I think I may enjoy myself wherever I go, with you at my side, Doctor.”

There goes his flush again, as clear as a bounty of roses! You love the way it matches his hair. He hides his face behind a gloved hand, sinking into his seat as you laugh generously.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he insists, “with your teasing.”

You fake a pout, looking at him innocently.

“I am no tease, sir.”

“Right,” he says simply, smiling. “And I am no doctor.”

You laugh once again, batting at him lightly with a gloved hand before sitting straighter.

“Enough about that,” you say, “I should inform you of my situation, just as you informed me of yours. I would be very rude not to.”

Julian stiffens, sitting straighter as well.

“You don’t have to—“

“Oh but I do,” you insist. “You are too kind and too subtle to ask on such things as blatantly as my aristocrat self can, but the courting traditions demand it. You shall peruse my purse and pursuants as I have yours. There will be no barriers here.”

You clear your throat, and Julian waits patiently.

“I possess the estate of ———, as you already know. I am —— years old, with a long lineage. Most of my family has moved away outside of Vesuvia to our ancestral nation of origins, but I am a Vesuvian-born and Vesuvian at heart, so I chose to stay and take over the household. Like any baron or baroness, I oversee properties, farms, accounts, and merchandise. My estate largely relies on profits from renters on our land, but I began a perfumery and garden a few years ago. Using the florals from the garden, the business has become a success and sells in local tailor shops. So we bring profit in on that end as well, my endeavor alone, since the family that left have their own means in the ancestral country.”

Julian nods, interested.

“A perfumery...?”

“Yes,” you answer, happy. “I really enjoy it. With scents, I can create candles as well. I would love to show you sometime, if you’d like.”

Julian perks up more from the sound of that, than your financials.

“There will be a next time…?” He wonders aloud.

“If you will have me.”

Julian beams then, wider than you’ve seen all day. He nods and sips at his coffee happily, taking the olive branch and leaving so much unsaid. There was no need to.

You both seemed to be on the same page.

“Scents are interesting,” he says suddenly. “It is considered flimsy medicine, but I’ve often thought of aromatherapy. I wonder if it could help patients with mood difficulties…?”

Your eyes widen at the thought.

“It’s certainly worth a try. I can spare some scents for your practice when you visit me.”

Julian seems awed, amazed at the opportunity and you giving it.

“Are you real...?” He asks suddenly. “Am I dreaming?”

“No,” you laugh. “I am quite real. Do you need a pinch to prove it?”

Julian makes a very odd face at that, straightening up and moving swiftly past the question, diving into how delicious the cake is.

You watch, noticing. You could only wonder what it was that set him off.

“I will not pinch you…” You explain, hoping to ease him.

“Ah!” He shakes his head, trying to wave off your worry. “It’s not that. You’re fine. You can, uh…I want it- wait, no, that’s…never mind! You’re real, that much is certain.”

You watch him flail before shrugging internally and refocusing on the cake. You mentally file the ‘pinching’ reaction away for later thought.

“Is it good?” You ask.

Julian nods eagerly, forking off a piece and raising it to you. You see he is angling the fork for you to grasp yourself, but you decide to forego that idea.

What’s life without a little pleasure?

Sure that no one is watching either of you, you lean forward and eat the cake off of his offered fork, skillfully sucking the remnants off entirely. You look demurely away from him, but you know you’ve hit your mark when you hear him squawk. You chew, assessing, before glancing over to him feeling pleased.

“This is very, very good,” you agree.

Julian looks a little pained, watching you with wanton desire and intrigue.

You gently take the fork from his fingers and cut him a piece, offering it up to him kindly.

“Say ‘ah‘, for me,” you request pleasantly enough, yet you know that your gaze you’re pinning him with is a little less collected than your tone.

Slowly understanding, the doctor leans forward and takes the offering with his own mouth, too flushed to look at you directly. You’re thrilled to see him clear the fork in the same manner before he pulls back, focusing less on the cake he just ate and more on how you’re making him feel.

“Does it taste better, now?” You wonder aloud.

“Yes,” he nearly whispers. “Much better.”

You smile demurely, supporting your face on a relaxed hand.

“That, dear doctor,” you say, “is a tease.”

“I…I’ll remember that,” he says quietly, shifting under your gaze.

You’re sure that he will.

“You don’t have to,” you insist. “I can always help you, if you forget.” The promise sounds very sweet from your lips.

“Uh…Ah!” Julian pretends suddenly, checking his watch with faux vigor. “Wouldyoulookatthat, the theater! We’d best be on our way, we have box seats, you know.”

You giggle and he mirrors your humored grin, laughing himself.

“Of course, Julian.”

He assists you up before grabbing his cane and coat. Together with your funny doctor date, you are led out of the venue and into the afternoon of the day.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ previous. ☾ next

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Teenage Dream Pt. 2

Summary: Mun-Yeong learns that Gang-Tae has an admirer, she handles it very well.

Notes: So, I really had fun playing with blushingshy! GT and aggressivepossessive! MY, I thought the high school au would be the perfect place to have some fun with their roles, I love domGT to bits but domMY does something special to me. I tried to incorporate things you guys said in the comments for part 1, so if you see your idea in the story thank you for the suggestion! This has smut but I am also enjoying the slow burn of their teenage years, so no full sex yet. Blame GT he wouldn’t stop blushing long enough to get ridden. All in due time. Anyway, here’s part 2 enjoy lovelies!

In all actuality, she hadn't expected him to approach her that night. Had felt his eyes on her several times at school, Seung-Jae jokingly labelled him her "not so secret admirer" but she wasn't sure if he actually liked her. She was aware that people considered her popular, a byproduct of wealthy parents with celebrity status, therefore people thought they should like her. The same way you liked a useful tool, she wasn't naive enough to believe that her classmates liked her genuinely. Most of them didn't even know what her stories were about, couldn't see past the grotesque imagery and hidden messages. In reality she knew they found her strange, pretty but too different to truly understand but they played their parts well, fake smiles plastered on.

So, she only had Seung-Jae and that was fine by her, one great friend was infinitely better than a thousand faux friends, who only viewed her as a means to an end. But then he approached her and he was just precious, for goodness sakes he had complimented her school uniform of all things, even his constant stuttering and nervousness had been cute. None of her short stories were about damsels who needed saving, writers honestly needed to get past that ancient trope, yet she found herself playing that role with him. He would show up whenever she needed him, slaying all the dragons that stood in her way and asking nothing in return. It made it easy to give him everything, she'd never met anyone quite like Moon Gang-Tae. She hadn't planned on getting a boyfriend, too focused on school and her goals of being a writer, but he had stumbled into her life and she didn't know how to pass up beautiful things. Being with him was effortless in a way she'd never experience with another person, he listened to her and made her feel like she was important and enough as simply Ko Mun-Yeong, not the daughter of Ko Dae-Hwan and Do Hee-Jae . He had once told her as she cried quietly in soft of his collar, "You belong to you." Oblivious to the fact that he possessed a piece of her too, a piece she'd given willingly, no take backs. She was happy and it terrified her. Which, explained why the universe decided to tip her boat of happiness. She stood waiting for him, in the same spot they had been meeting for weeks now, their spot, not to be confused with their other spot outside where he often waited with her for Sang-In, who she had recently informed commanded to take a scenic route from now on when picking her up, cherishing every second extra she spent with Gang-Tae. It was his first day back since his untimely suspension, she had visited him everyday under the ruse of bringing him school notes, his mother would smile as she greeted her at the door. Unsuspecting that as soon as they were alone, studying was the last thing on their minds. It was beneficial for science class though, she was learning key information about the male anatomy. Excitement bubbled up as she waited for his arrival, fixing her hair and then immediately moving it back to its original position. Agitated at her nerves, it was unsettling to say the least, no one had this affect on her. His smile was brilliant, when he spotted her, his eyes scoping her out like he had a radar system solely for tracking her, he easily walked away from his friend leaving him mid sentence, closing the space between them with a few wide steps, courtesy of those long legs. Suddenly, it wasn't fast enough, she needed to be in his arms, sooner, now and she propelled forward, rushing to meet him halfway. They bounded to each other like long last lovers who were finally reunited, torn apart by the cruelties of an unfair life. She watched him drop a bag carelessly on the ground as he reached her and grabbed her by her waist, immediately she reciprocated his hold, throwing her arms around his neck. With ease, he lifted her up off her tiptoes, her feet left dangling inches off the ground as he effortlessly supported her body weight. She let out a soft gasp, always shocked by his unassuming displays of strength. She snuggled her face into his neck, it was flame red and and she yearned to kiss it. After a short consideration, she pressed a light kiss into his neck, his soft gasp music to her ears. Tightening his hold, he swayed them side to side, inhaling the scent of her intoxicating shampoo. Unbeknownst to them, Jae-Su looked on in disgust and horror, he hadn't even gotten a chance to finish his story before Gang-Tae had taken off, he rolled his eyes watching their dramatic reunion. They hadn't seen each other for two days; Saturday and Sunday, yet they were acting as if Gang-Tae had just returned from military service. He'd known Gang-Tae for a much more substantial number of years, and he was never greeted in such a fashion. He stomped past them grumbling under his breath, "You never hug me like that, I have to beg for any affection." Unfortunately, Gang-Tae's ears were occupied listening to Mun-Yeong's soft breaths and his complaints were left unheard. Mun-Yeong was the first to disturb the hug, drawing back until they were face to face, but still locked in their tender hold. She couldn't help the exuberant smile that spread across her face, "I'm so happy you're back. I missed you." She watched with amused eyes as his signature blush colored his face, his adorable grin tempted her to kiss him right then and there. It was only his next words that halted her, "I got you something." He finally broke their hold, she suppressed her sigh, and he picked up the bag he had discarded prior to their hug. She clapped her hands in excitement, she adored surprises. He reached into the bag smiling at her adorable response and handed her a plastic cup filled with milky brown liquid, her eyes lit up in recognition. "It's coffee milk. I went to the coffee shop you like, that's why I'm late, I'm sorry didn't mean to keep you waiting." His glossy brown eyes stared at her, apologetic and pleading. She giggled before finally giving into her previous urge, yanking his checkered collar, bringing his face close enough to kiss. His eye was huge but he didn't resist, allowing her to draw him in. She curled her free hand around his thick neck, leaning up to capture his slack mouth. He tasted like cereal, sweet and succulent and she chased the taste with her tongue, licking into his moist mouth before he returned the favor. His tongue insistent in her mouth, gasping when she pulled his bottom lip hungrily. She let out a surprised puff of air, as he walked forward forcing her to retreat until her back met the hard wall. He placed a broad hand on her back, dragging her deeper into the kiss as the other cradled her head. Time slowed down as they kissed, wet sounds filling the air. Their mouths broke apart only to come back together, time and time again. A loud cough sounded off to her right, she willfully ignored it, lost in the flavors of her boyfriend. But the cough continued followed by an obnoxious clearing of the throat, she pulled away to shout at whoever was interrupting them only to meet the eyes of her best friend. "You do realize that you're in public right and that you're giving everyone a free show?" Seung-Jae asked eyes never looking up from her phone, her fingers flying across the touch screen, most likely on Tumblr again. As she took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanned the hallway and yes, all eyes were on them. Thankfully no teachers but their classmates were looking on with gaping mouths. Some even had their phones out, she glowered at them until they hurriedly hid them shamed-face, before snapping back to Gang-Tae. He was painfully shy, she knew his face would be alight and she was right. He glowed scarlet red above, satisfaction settled in her belly, poor baby. Looking down at her watch with a despondent sigh, she brought the gifted drink to her lips, still tingling from the passionate kiss. His eyes followed the motion, lingering on her mouth. "Thank you for the coffee milk. You were even more delicious though." She teased, hearing him groan in embarrassment. "Come on girl, we need to get to class. " Seung-Jae impatiently interrupted again, tapping her feet now, code for hurry the fuck up. "Alright I'm coming." She picked up her fallen book bag, swinging it over her shoulder, before Gang-Tae's arm shot out grasping the bag in his large hand. "I can carry it." He said in the softest voice, sounding like he was being given a gift, she'd forgotten how he seemingly couldn't stand to see her carry anything. Just adorable. "No. No, lover boy. You go to your class, we don't have time for another long goodbye. She can carry a book bag." Gang-Tae's eyes shifted to hers pleadingly and she almost lost her resolve, but she knew her friend was right, if he carried her bag she would notice his arms and how muscular they were and that would lead to her wanting to kiss him again and this ferocious cycle would repeat. With an apologetic hand on his smooth cheek, she shook her head, "She's right, you shouldn't be late on your first day back. I'll see you later." He nodded, subconsciously swaying into her hand before she pulled it away. Suddenly she was violently yanked away by her book bag, Seung-Jae's patience all but worn out. She longingly looked back at Gang-Tae, blowing him a kiss. If she hadn't spun around to threaten her best friend for being so aggressive, Do you have a death wish? She would have seen him catch the kiss, delicately putting it in his pocket.

She'd always judged girls around school who couldn't stand to be away from their boyfriends, rolling skeptical eyes at their dependency, she was already whole no other half needed, thank you. So when she found herself thinking of Gang-Tae, unable to focus on the teacher's voice, affronted annoyance seared in her blood. What was he doing to her? Mentally berating herself for her weakness, she rose her hand, catching the teacher's attention. "May I use the bathroom?" She requested, already knowing the response would be yes, this was one of her best classes and missing a few insignificant minutes wouldn't alter her high standing. She grabbed the pass at the teacher's nod, avoiding Seung-Jae's suspicious glance. She didn't need her negativity, weren't best friends supposed to be supportive? Hers was clearly defective. She told herself she would use the bathroom after checking on Gang-Tae, see how his first day back was going, merely good girlfriend duties. Peering into his classroom she easily located her handsome boyfriend, a chiseled chin laid on his hand, gazing out the window as if lost in a daydream. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes eagerly devoured him, the hours they'd spent apart ached, she longed to be back in his arms kissing him senseless turning him into a blushing mess. She was so wrapped up in his beauty, she almost missed another set of longing eyes. Nam Ju-Ri, she didn't know her well, had declined her hand in friendship after seeing how quickly she could go from “nice” to malicious. She'd always preferred the wolf rather than a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the oblivious girl gaze at her boyfriend, the flames of jealousy searing in her blood. Who was she to look at him? Wasn't it clear that he was off limits? Her taste was probably still in his mouth from this morning, she'd happily recreate the moment to remind the two faced bitch to back off. Finally, after a few minutes she stalked off to the bathroom, a bad taste lingering on her tongue.

They were working together on a group project. Her smile had fallen as he explained to her that he would need to leave early to meet Ju-Ri and Jae-Su at the Subway's to begin working on their group project. She planned on asking him to stay at school with her, she needed to work on her new short story for the school paper. It was the perfect excuse to get some much needed alone time with him, this new information threw a proverbial wrench in her plans. Only his sweet sad eyes stopped her from throwing a tantrum. He didn't look happy at the prospect of being away from her either. Using the situation as motivation, she penned a tale about a slow-witted girl who learned the dangers of touching that which wasn't yours, the grass wasn't always greener on the other side, sometimes it was best to appreciate what you had, least you lose everything. Or at least, a few fingers in the process. She never claimed to be subtle. After adding the finishing touches, her story was complete. Not her best work but adequate, a true Ko Mun-Yeong classic, dark but revealing. Are you still at Subways? As she collects her belongings, she awaits his reply to her message, humming and setting a new course of action as she exits the school, the sun warm on her skin, restoring her energy. Yes, we're still here.

They are the scene of academic innocence with textbooks sprawled across the dining table, and notes and writing utensils precariously dangling. Gang-Tae is seated next to Jae-Su, Ju-Ri directly across, currently leaning over to point something out to his watchful eye. He rubs his jaw, nodding in agreement before jotting down notes on a stray piece of paper. With a firm hand she pushes the door open, a melodic chime announcing her arrival, all eyes glance to see who has entered including the only eyes that matter to her. He instantly stands up, wide smile on his face as he waves her over, missing the grimace that covers Ju-Ri's face. As soon as she's close enough to touch, he does. Drawing her into a warm hug, that she happily returns, breathing in his fresh scent. "I didn't know you were coming. Are you hungry?" He motions to the cash register, she shakes her head in decline, nodding at Jae-Su and Jae-Su, alone. Ju-Ri makes a point of checking her phone and looking as occupied as possible, she's happy to act like they’re strangers. In most ways, that's exactly what they are. "Do you want to sit?" There are no additional seats she notes, the establishment packed as it usually is after school's dismissal. "No, you sit." He looks at her in apparent confusion, about to argue before she forces him back into the seat, before taking her seat.

In his lap. His gasp breezes against her ear as she faces Ju-Ri, placid smile on her face at the girl's evident irritation, she makes herself comfortable turning to look at Gang-Tae, who shyly meets her eyes, his hands cautiously holding her hips for support. "Hey, you." She whispers only loud enough for him to hear, his coffee-brown eyes soften in response, "Hi, I missed you." Her lips find his in a sweet kiss, as he brushes her hair behind her hair. A quiet moan escapes her lips at the gentle touch, his eyes are dark when she draws away. A million miles away. She would never tire of her affect on him and how unashamed he was about showing her. "Alright that's enough from you two." Jae-Su's exasperated voice interrupts, she squashes the urge to glare at him, Gang-Tae had asked her to be nicer to him claiming he was terrified of her. She really didn't see the issue with that but she was trying for Gang-Tae's sake. He soothed out her rougher edges. Gang-Tae struggles to focus with her in his lap, absentmindedly stroking her hair instead of answering a question that was posed to him. When he brought his sandwich to his mouth, she leaned over taking a bite too, accidentally biting his finger, soft apology on her lip. She slowly licked mayo residue from the corner of her lip, his eyes raptly watching its journey as she swallowed, "Mmmm it tastes good." He briskly repositions her in his lap, shifting her into his leg, away from her place in the center. Ju-Ri finally speaks after the display through clenched teeth, "I need to go, my mom is expecting me." Gang-Tae and Jae-Su bade her goodbye and safe travels, Mun-Yeong merely looks at her while stroking her finger possessively across Gang-Tae's massive shoulders, mouthing one word, mine. He looked scrumptious in his basketball uniform, arms tensing and flexing as he dribbled the ball up and down the court. She'd happily agreed to stay for his practice today, unwilling to pass out the chance the see a slightly damp Gang-Tae. She hasn't yet spoken to him about his...admirer. It felt ridiculous to waste their time together talking about anything other than them, when they weren't devouring each other. So she didn't expect to run into the very person who was infiltrating her thoughts. The two faced bitch, alone, walking down the stairs text books in her arm. Impulsively she calls out, "You know he's mine right? Stay away from my boyfriend." The girl's head snaps up in shock, before her face settles into vexation. Good at least she's being real. She would loathe to see the fake calm smile Ju-Ri typically sends her way. "He's not your property. You don't own him." With a tight smirk she stalks over, climbing the stairs until they're level, still knowing she'll always be above her in every way imaginable. "That's where you're wrong, he is mine. My boyfriend, so why don't you get someone who actually wants you and stop drooling over what you can't have? You act so nice but you're just a two-faced bitch." She bites out the last word, stepping into Ju-Ri's face, blood singing at the opportunity to put her in her place. The sting of the harsh slap against her cheek, whiplashes her head to the side, momentarily she's impressed, surprised that the girl actually had the gall to strike her, whatever I do now is technically self defense now, she thinks. Before viciously grabbing the other girl by her thin hair, yanking at the tender follicles. "Are you crazy?" She screams loudly, lost in her rage. "Are you on something? How dare you slap me?!" Emphasizing her question with a particularly hard pull of her hair. They tussle on the staircase, Ju-Ri frantically trying to pry her hands from her hair as she pushes her head into the wall. Both unaware that the commotion from their fight has garnered the attention of the basketball team, the boys cheering them on, cacophonous yells filling the previously quiet hallway. "Oh shit is that Mun-Yeong?" "Someone get Gang-Tae!" She slams Ju-Ri's head into the wall, satisfaction overcoming her at the pleasing smack it makes. Soon Ju-Ri's screams drown out the boys and then she feels her body being lifted, completely swept off her feet. Only his familiar scent stops her from lashing out at the arms around her midsection, prying her away from Ju-Ri. Her hands remain in their tight clutch of the girl's hair but then his voice cuts through the fog in her mind, like a lighthouse. Guiding her back to the light. "Mun-Yeong, let go of her." His voice is too quiet to be a command but there is no inflection indicating a question either. He pulls her bodily away from Ju-Ri, his arms like steel around her abdomen, making her feel like a wayward child. With a final cry, she releases her hold, only to roughly shove her, aptly watching as she tumbles down the three measly stairs. Ju-Ri screams as if she had been murdered, dramatically wet eyes staring behind her, looking at him. She grabs at her once more, regaining her attention. She is elated at the look of fear in Ju-Ri's eyes as she looks up from her spot on the ground. She growls at her, bearing her teeth as she is carried away. "This was your only warning!" As soon as she is freed from the prison of Gang-Tae's arms, she begins pacing like an trapped animal, hot puffs of breath rasping out of her lungs. She feels hot with anger, which morphs into frustration before coiling into ugly shame. She dreads the look of disappointment she will see on her boyfriend's face, unlike Daniel, who was no friend of hers, she had just attacked someone he considered a friend. She knew that she had let the flames of anger consume her, this was the real reason she didn't have true friends. Most people couldn't handle her... intensity. Which was putting it nicely. She didn't like to share. Years of loneliness with parents that couldn't be bothered with her existence, had formed an ugly desire in her to latch on to the people she opened up to. She would squeeze so tightly until they ultimately burst, realizing her darkness and leaving before they too were consumed. She'd never cared enough to worry about losing anyone, all she had was Seung-Jae and Sang-In and they knew first-hand about her uglier traits, and loved her despite her flaws. But Gang-Tae had never seen this side of her, had never given her reason to show it. He looked at her like she was the sun and moon and all the stars, it would be crushing to see that love twist into fear. "Are you okay?" His voice. It was gentle. He didn't sound scared. Or disappointed. Or repulsed. Just worried, his hand on her cheek further shocking her until she brought her head up to meet his eyes. In them she saw concern, but not much else, none of the emotions others usually exhibited when they saw the real Ko Mun-Yeong. "Mun-Yeong, are you okay?" He repeated his question, cupping her cheek in his hand now. A cool balm on her hot skin. She forced out a reply, "Yes. She only slapped me, I hit her a lot more." His eyes perused her body, looking for more injuries and he let out a sigh of relief when he found none. "Aren't you.. aren't you upset that I hit your friend?" She cursed out the final word, unable to control the venom in her tone. "No, I'm mostly... confused? I didn't know you didn't like her." His brows knitted together in bewilderment, "Why were you fighting? What happened?" The memory of overhearing Ju-Ri talk to Byeol about Gang-Tae played in her mind, all of the earlier anger resurging in her blood. "Should you really be going after him? Isn't he with Mun-Yeong now?" "I liked him first! She stole him from me, I just want him to know how I feel too. Let him know he has options." After that the rest was inevitable, she couldn't hold herself back. Didn't want to in all honesty, the slap was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. "She likes you! I heard her talking about you, she said she wanted you to know you had options. I simply reminded her that there are no options, you're mine." Flabbergasted, if you searched the word in the dictionary Gang-Tae's face would be the image. He sat down in an chair of the empty classroom he had dragged her into, looking dazed. His mouth opened. Then closed. Opening once more, before closing again. Until he finally found his words, "You're jealous....of me? Of other girls liking me?" She took high offense at the skepticism in his voice and passionately retorted, "Yes, of course I am! Those...those ants want you and are trying to steal you away from me!" He grabbed her arms, stopping her mid pace, drawing her into his lap. Calming her with a single touch. His raspy baritone hypnotized her, "Breathe with me, please." She took a deep breath, matching his even breaths until she felt her anger dissipate, fizzing into nothing. "You have nothing to be jealous about. I don't want Ju-Ri or anyone else, I want you. Only you. I am yours, for as long as you'll have me." His hands rubbed up and down her sides in a soothing motion, massaging away any negative emotion left in her body. "You don't mind.... You're not upset I called you mine?" She peered at him with huge bewildered eyes. "Why would I be? As long as you're mine too." He looked at her hopefully, she didn't deign that inquiry with a verbal response. Instead taking the opportunity to utilize her spot in his lap, grabbing his face and kissing the query off his lips. Possessively shoving her tongue into his mouth, hands falling to his neck to pull him deeper into their embrace. She bit his lip then swiped the pain away, lapping at his hot wet mouth. Humming at his taste, thirsty for more. He gasped, pulling away to inhale deep breaths, his eyes were hazy with arousal. She attached herself to his neck, sucking his sweaty skin into her mouth, aroused by his moan of pleasure. "Wait, should we do this...here?" He gestured at the classroom, "What if someone comes looking for us?" She perked up at the idea, delighting in the thought of that two-faced bitch finding them and seeing first-hand that Gang-Tae belonged to her. She sucked harder instead of answering, running a hand through his hair, pulling his head to the side to give her better access. He melted in her arms, boneless at her ministrations. She looked proudly at the purple-red bruise that formed on his skin, stark on his porcelain pale skin, it would be seen a mile away. "Beautiful." She sighed caressing the marked skin, awed and proud of her work. Gang-Tae blushed looking at her like she was a predator and he couldn't wait to be eaten. Realization washed over her like a tidal wave. He hadn’t acted at all like she had imagined. "You like this." It wasn't a question, the hard line prodding into her ass told her everything she needed to know. "I never thought you'd get jealous of me. Seeing you like this is...." "Sexy?" She finished his sentence, he held her heated stare before nodding in agreement. She laughed, boisterous laughter, he was utterly perfect for her. She wanted to wreck him. Swiveling her hip into a seductive roll, she watched the pleasure wash over his face, his pretty red cheeks and open mouth calling out to the beast that had been unleashed. She swallowed his moans, groaning as he licked into her mouth, their tongues wrestling for control, she ground into his hard erection, playing dirty to get the upper hand. "Cheater." He rasped out, eyes narrowed at her. She grinded harder, wrapping her arms around his neck, riding him through their clothes. The head of his hard cock rubbing on her moist center, she'd moved her uniform skirt out of the way, desperate to feel him. They hadn't done much sans clothes yet and she was hungry for it. Whispering into his red hot ears, "Can I take off my panties?" His hands tightened painfully on her hips, as he threw his head back in a long suffering groan. She pressed on, "Please I'm so wet, I know you're not ready for.... that. But I just want to feel you." He was shaking in her arms, little hitching breaths and she waited for his response, mouthing at the large hickey on his neck. Finally he nodded. Eyes too bright, they almost seemed to be glowing. She stood up, leaving his lap, eyeing the rigid tent protruding from his uniform pants, covetously watching, eager for the day it would also be hers. Raking her skirt up under his watchful eyes, she took a hold of her panties, he subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation, as she slid the moist material down her thighs, bending over to slip them off. He watched her soaked panties hanging from the tips of her fingers utterly captivated, before she tossed them to the side carelessly. With a coy smile, she slid back onto his lap, moaning at the sensation of his clothed cock pressing on her bare opening, rocking harder on him, as spots of color exploded behind her eyelids. It felt incredible. He was burning hot and so stiff beneath her, all her thoughts minimized down to this moment. She wanted to come. Desperately. Could feel the persistent itch under her skin. When she opened her eyes Gang-Tae's were fixed on the space between her thighs, he looked ravenous as she used him for her pleasure, muscles coiled tight as he sat painfully still as she bounced on his lap. "You can touch me. I want you to, don't be nervous." She insisted, seeing his hands brutal grip on the sides of the chair. His nails were digging into the plastic, leaving indentations. He hesitated before bringing his fingers to the lips of her pussy, briefly sliding into the opening before retracting this fingers. She groaned in frustration, it felt so good she needed more, why was he stopping? Fucking tease. Voice laced with veneration, he said, "You're so.... it's so wet." She glared at him before chastising him, he was like this every time they were naked, surprised that she was aroused by him, "You made me like that. Don't be a tease now." He glowered at her statement, she had called him that various times before. His fingers slowly crept to her wet opening, a barely there touch that had her shouting, and she couldn't wait anymore she was too turned on, using his thighs for support she leaned up before bearing down on his fingers, easily slipping down their entire lengths, feeling a breath punched out of her. Gang-Tae was still frozen as she began to ride his fingers, pulling him into her tight hole, wet sounds filling the room, her juices coating his fingers. Then she felt him moving inside her, driving his fingers up to meet with her downward thrusts, his thumb momentarily pressed against her clitoris and she bit her tongue at the euphoria. She was dangerously close. His dick twitched underneath her and she slowed her sensuous movement in a slow rock, peering into his pleasure dilated eyes, "Do you want to feel me?" She watched the war on his face, control and hunger battling, "I don't...I don't want our first time to be in a classroom. You deserve more." She softened at his precious words, if only he knew that any first time would be perfect as long as it was with him. The location was insignificant. "There are...other ways to feel me." At his blank stare she continued, "Do you trust me?" Instantly he nodded, and she smiled, before reaching down to catch his zipper and slowly lowered it. He wheezed, sounding short of breath but didn't stop her. She pulled his erect dick from the slit in his boxer, it stood red and impressive in her hands, perfect in size and shape, thick and long. She hummed in approval, giggling at Gang-Tae's embarrassed face. With a dick like this, he had nothing to be embarrassed about, she doubted hearing that would help his blush though. He closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his dick for the first time. It surely wouldn't be her last. She would make sure of that. Then with her eyes boring into his, she slid over his cock, rubbing her wetness over the hard ridge, simultaneously they moaned at the sensation. His engorged head caught on her opening but it never went in, instead sliding through her sopping wet folds, rubbing on her swollen clit.

Soon, she was the one being devoured as he inhaled her lips with a deep sloppy kiss, his spit running down her chin, as she vigorously rode him, letting him plunder her mouth. Without prompting, his hands slithered under her shirt, groping her breasts. Roughly, moving her bra out of the way, squeezing them the way he knew she liked. His fingers twisting her rigid nipples until they were deliciously sore.

"Gang-Tae!" She screamed his name, her body overloaded from pleasure. He met her thrust for thrust, their pace vigorous, a race to the end. She pulled away from his lips, taking his face in her hands feeling him stiffen under her, she forced his head up until their eyes met, with a final punishing thrust she was falling off the edge, shouting her release. She squeezed her eyes shut, riding the waves of pleasure. He twitched beneath her, bruising grip on her breasts as his cum shot out of his cock and landed in thick streams on the floor. She took huge gulps of air as her body cooled down, coming down from her extreme high, thin layer of sweat settling on her skin. Lifting her head from where it had fallen on his shoulder, she grinned at his goofy smile, he looked wrung out, it was a good look on him. After regaining the feeling in her legs she hopped off his lap, retrieving her panties from the floor, as she was placing her legs into them, she paused before looking at him, before walking up to him as he adjusted his own pants, flaccid cock now hidden away sadly enough. With a salacious grin, she stuffed her panties into his pocket, "You can keep those." He stuttered, too tongue tired to respond but didn’t stop her or give them back. They stumbled downstairs to wide eyed stares that shifted into knowing glances from Gang-Tae's teammates who were just finishing up with practice. All eyes immediately latching on to the giant hickey on his neck. She'd never seen him turn quite that red.

The next day, Jae-Su's loud voice assaulted her ears as he looked at his best friend in horror, "What happened to your neck?!" Before looking at her with an accusatory glare, "What did you do to him you....you vampire!" She smiled serenely as Ju-Ri snuck past them, avoiding her eye contact, a small scrape on her knee from the fall. Gang-Tae flushed at the words but didn't cover the mark, instead taking her books before kissing her on the forehead. He was hers, happily and she wouldn't take that for granted and had no problem reminding others who might forget.

#its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #its okay to not be okay fic #high school au #jealous possessive MY #I sucked him so hes mine #smut #but like teenage sweet smut #I tried to make it short #ended up with close to 6k #I need help

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drinkthehalo · 4 years

Text

Macro perspective on each Lymond book

I've been listening to the Lymond Chronicles audiobooks, which has given me a different perspective than reading them. With audiobooks, you’re less inclined to stop and dive into the details, to look up an interesting word or obscure historical fact; instead you get swept along with the larger arc of the book.

So, I thought it would be interesting to look at what each book is about from a macro perspective.

Spoilers for the entire series follow.

The Game of Kings

In genre, it's a mystery told in a historical adventure style; it asks the question "Who is Lymond?" and gives us a ton of contradictory clues, then finally reveals the truth - in a psychological sense by stripping away Lymond's defense mechanisms and revealing the human being underneath, as he breaks down in the dell, "the guard was down... every fluent line and practised shade of Lymond's face betrayed him explicitly"; and in a narrative sense via the trial, which examines each "clue" we received throughout the story and tells us what it really meant.

Thematically, it's mainly about "serving honesty in a crooked way" - that morality isn’t simple and that sometimes you need to break the rules to do the right thing. Nearly all Lymond’s acts are apparently bad things done for a goal that is actually good. We see the theme also in Will Scott (who learns that the world is more complicated than the "moral philosophy" he learned in school) and the various characters who help Lymond, breaking the rules of society by aiding a wanted outlaw (Christian, Sybilla, the Somerviles).

It is also about the balance of looking out for self vs the obligation to the greater society - Lymond is not completely selfless (after all, he is back in Scotland to clear his own name), but when forced to choose, he always chooses the greater good above his own goals. He is contrasted with Richard, whose great mistake is to put his obligations to Scotland at risk in pursuit of his personal vengeance, and Margaret Lennox, who is purely and grotesquely out only for herself.

The historical context is part of this theme, as we see the various border families playing both sides between England and Scotland, with the heroes being those who ultimately stand up for Scotland, even as we understand that some have no choice but to profess one thing while doing another.

Queens Play

In genre, it's a spy novel; thematically, it's about what Lymond will do with the rest of his life. The question is asked explicitly several times (most obviously, "You have all your life still before you." / "The popular question is, for what?") It's important that Lymond loses his title at the start of this book; he has to figure out who he will be without it.

The main characters all represent possible paths Lymond could take -

O'Liam Roe, who sits back and laughs at the world with detachment, while abdicating all responsibility to use his mind and position to change the world for the better.

Robin Stewart, who loses himself in bitterness about the ways the world has been unfair to him, and in fixating on how he deserved better, fails to take any action to improve himself.

Oonagh, who works passionately to change the world for the better, but whose ideals have become corrupted because she has attached herself to a leader who is more out for himself than for their cause.

And of course Thady Boy and Vervassal, two extremes of himself that Lymond tries on, and (by the end of the series) must learn to reconcile.

The recurring imagery of the first half is the carnival, the masks, the music, the parties, and our hero in danger of losing himself amidst the debauchery. In the second half the imagery every time Lymond appears is of ice, the ultra-controlled, hyper-competent version of Lymond at risk of losing himself by denying his artistic soul. (There’s a wonderful essay here that explores these motifs.)

In the end, Lymond comes to the conclusion that he must not withdraw into detachment or bitterness, that he must find a way to make a positive difference in the world, but that he also must not attach himself to a powerful figure who may be more out for themselves than for Scotland (ie, his refusal to attach himself to Marie de Guise). This sets up the creation of his mercenary army in the next books, as a way he can exercise independent influence in the world.

The Disorderly Knights

This book couldn't be more relevant to the world today. It's a portrait of cynical hypocrisy in pursuit of power; it lays out step by step the tactics of propaganda and manipulation used by despots to build up themselves and tear down their rivals: pretend to be pious, accuse of others of your own crimes, tear down straw men instead of engaging in real debate. It tells us to "look at his hands"; what matters is what a leader actually does, not what he professes to believe.

It shows us how leaders use charisma to manipulate, and, in showing the battle between Gabriel and Lymond for Jerott's loyalty, shows how Lymond takes the harder and more ethical path, by refusing to use his charisma to seduce (a lesson learned from his experience with Robin Stewart) and instead guiding Jerott to come to his own conclusions by means of rational thought instead of hero worship.

At every level the novel advocates for tolerance and internationalism, and against petty sectarianism, as Lymond questions whether the Knights of St John are really any better than the Turks, and as he tries to get the Scottish border families to abandon their feuds in favor of the greater good of the country.

In terms of genre, it’s a pure adventure novel. I never get bored of the masterful action sequences with the battles in Malta and Tripoli, and the extraordinary duel at St Giles in the end. (Also in terms of thematic imagery, there is some crazy S&M shit going on in this book, with Gabriel and Joleta's sadism and Lymond's self-sacrificial masochism.)

I love Disorderly Knights so much. It is nearly perfect - well structured, thematically coherent, witty, fun, breathtaking, and heartbreaking.

Pawn in Frankincense

In genre, this is a quest novel. In several places it explicitly parallels The Odyssey.

In theme, it explores -

Do the ends justify the means? How much sacrifice is too much? Lymond gives up his fortune, his body, and his health; Philippa gives up her freedom and her future; we are asked often consider, which goal is more important, stopping Gabriel or saving the child? We even see this theme in Marthe's subplot, as she gives up the treasure, her dream to "be a person," to save her companions. Perhaps the most telling moment is right after Lymond kills Gabriel; despite all his claims that Gabriel’s death mattered more than the fate of the child, he’s already forgotten it, instead playing over and over in his mind the death of Khaireddin. If you do what is intellectually right but it destroys your soul, was it really right?

The other big theme is “nature vs nurture.” What is the impact of upbringing on how people turn out? In its comparisons of Kuzum vs Khaireddin, and Lymond vs Marthe, it seems to fall firmly on the side of nurture.

It’s also a kaleidoscope of views on love, with its Pilgrims of Love and their poetry, and the contrasting images of selfless, sacrificial love (Philippa and Evangelista for Kuzum, Salablanca for Lymond, Lymond for Khaireddin, perhaps Marthe for Lymond as she helps him in the end) with possessive, needy “love” (Marthe for Guzel, Jerott for Marthe or Lymond, arguably even the Aga for Lymond).

This novel is also a tragedy. Its imagery and the historical background complement the themes by creating an atmosphere lush, beautiful, labyrinthine, overwhelming, and suffocating.

The Ringed Castle

I have to confess this is my least favorite, in large part because I find the historical sequences (in Russia and in Mary Tudor's court in England) go on way too long and have only tangential relationships to the themes and characters.

It seems to be primarily about self-delusion as a response to trauma. Lymond spends the entire novel trying to be someone he isn't, in a place he doesn't belong, because he is too damaged to face reality. (His physical blindness as a manifestation of his psychological blindness; the sequences at John Dee's, surrounded by mirrors, forcing him to see himself.)

Lymond convinces himself he can build a wall around his heart to block out all human connection, that he can be a “machine,” but despite his best efforts, he cares for Adam Blacklock and develops a true friendship with Diccon Chancellor. And of course, by far the most important moment is after the Hall of Revels, when Lymond's heart unfreezes and he suddenly sees one thing VERY clearly. (And then tries, desperately, to escape it.)

The only reason I can think of that the book lingers so long on Mary Tudor (so boring omg) is the parallel with Lymond, her false pregnancies as a manifestation of her desire to see the world as she wants it to be, and her failure to see reality as it is. Ivan of Russia also is a parallel: delusional, unable to trust, and dangerous. Their failures, and the failure of Lymond's Russia adventure and relationship with Guzel, tell us that you cannot hide from reality forever.

The book spends so long painting the backdrop of 16th century Russia that it makes me think that Dunnett got too caught up in her research and needed a stronger editor, although there is also a parallel with Lymond in the idea of Russia as a traumatized nation struggling to establish itself, and of course, Lymond subsuming his need to deal with his own issues into a goal of building a nation.

It's also about exploration, about the intellectual wonder of discovering that there is more to the world, as we learn about Diccon Chancellor and the Muscovy Company. It’s wonderful imagery, but I struggle to how this fits coherently into the overall theme of the novel, and am curious how others reconcile it.

I like the idea of this book more than the reality. If you’re going to do to your hero what Dunnett did to Lymond in “Pawn,” there has to be consequences. But hundreds of pages of our hero in such a frozen state is difficult to read.

That said, the Hall of Revels is one of the best things in the series, and I’ll always love this book for that.

Checkmate

Checkmate is about reconciliation of self and recovery from trauma, as Lymond is forced (kicking and screaming) to accept who is and what he's done, and to allow himself to love and be loved. Philippa is his guide, as she discovers the secrets of his birth, understands his childhood, hears his tales of all the terrible things he's done, and loves him anyway. As far as genre, this is definitely a romance.

There are villains in this book (Leonard Bailey, Margaret Lennox, Austin Grey) but they're all fairly weak; the true antagonist is Lymond himself. From the beginning, he could have everything he needs to be happy (he's married to the woman he loves, and she loves him back!); his true struggle is to stop running from it (by escaping to Russia or committing suicide) and to break through his own psychological barriers enough to allow himself to accept it.

The primary parallel is with Jerott and Marthe, who also have happiness almost in their grasp, but never manage to achieve it.

The heritage plot looms large and is (IMO) tedious; it's so melodramatic that it takes some mental gymnastics to get it to make thematic sense to me. It ultimately comes down to Lymond's identity crisis and childhood trauma. His “father” rejected and abused him, so he based his identity on his relationship to his mother, but his suspicion that he is a bastard means he lives in terror that he doesn’t really belong in his family and that, if his mother isn’t perfect, he is rotten. (I love him but, my god, it is juvenile. The only way I can reconcile it is that his fear about the circumstances of his birth is really just a stand-in for his self-hatred caused by his traumas.) He also continues to struggle with his envy that Richard was born into a position with power and influence that Lymond has spent the past six books struggling to obtain, and that Lymond’s terrible traumas (starting with the galleys) would not have happened if he had been the heir. The discovery that he actually IS the legitimate heir is what finally snaps him out of it, since his reaction is to want to protect Richard, and this also reconciles him to Sybilla since protecting Richard was her goal too.

There are some other parts of this book that I struggle to reconcile (Lymond's inability to live if he can't have sex with Philippa; the way the focus on heritage seems to undercut the nature vs nurture themes; that no one but Jerott is bothered by Marthe's death, which undercuts some of the most moving moments in "Pawn”; and I mostly just pretend the predestination and telepathy stuff didn’t happen). On the other hand, I do sort of love the way this book wholeheartedly embraces the idea that there is no human being on earth who will ever be as melodramatic as Francis Crawford.

In terms of the historical elements, in addition to providing the narrative grounding for the character stuff to play out, it sets up the idea that Scotland has troubles coming up (the religious wars, the betrayal of the de Guises) and that Lymond needs to go home, let go of France and Russia, and focus on Scotland where he belongs. I’m sure there is also some political nuance in the fact that our Scottish hero, after spending so much time and energy in France, ends up with an English wife.

The conclusion in the music room is perfect - it brings us back to the amnesiac Lymond who innocently played music with Christian Stewart, to Thady Boy whose songs made the cynical French court weep, and fills the “void” Lymond described to Jerott where there was no prospect of music. The aspects of himself are finally reconciled and he has a partner to share his life with.

I am curious what others see as the macro / thematic big picture meanings of these books. :) And if anyone can find the key to make “Ringed Castle” and “Checkmate” make more sense to me...

#lymond #the lymond chronicles

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millennialdemon · 3 years

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Coming off of true trainwrecks the likes of Mars of Destruction and Skelter Heaven, I actually came out of Dark Cat with a sense of respect and gratitude for its competence.

For the uninitiated, Dark Cat is a notoriously bad OVA from 1991 that you will see listed in many Worst Anime Ever countdowns. It follows 2 brothers, “dark cats” Hyoi and Rui, who investigate supernatural happenings and purify evil with their somewhat undefined powers of shapeshifting and increased strength/agility. The majority of the story in the OVA is about a school girl named Aimi, who is pining after her childhood friend Koizumi, who since the rejection and sudden death of his crush, has been suffering a depressive episode and ignoring her. Hyoi and Rui sense dark forces are manifesting at the school, and they keep an eye on Aimi while fighting off the increasingly brazen appearances of demonic enemies.

A monstrous ex-dark cat named Jukokubo is revealed to be manipulating Aimi with his dark powers, and Hyoi and Rui fight him, but not before Aimi succumbs to the evil magic -- as well as her own violent jealousy and overprotectiveness of Koizumi -- and transforms into a horrific tentacle monster that kills seemingly everyone in the school.

In the end, Koizumi realizes that Aimi was in love with him the entire time, and doesn’t fight her when she engulfs him completely. Apparently this act of selfless love was enough to purify them both, and although they do indeed die, their souls are “light” and able to ascend. This throws a wrench in Jukokubo’s plan to prove that humans are The Worst, so he turns tail and leaves his boss fight against Hyoi, threatening to return again. In the epilogue, Hyoi and Rui reflect on the mission and wax poetic about the nature of humanity while crossing a busy street.

… Ehm… happy ending, yes?

Now then: there are actually quite a few things I enjoyed about Dark Cat, and they are all very simple things that I had come to miss after days of watching other entries from the Bottom of the Barrel.

It had a narrative, and was -- mostly -- comprehensible in its storytelling, as rushed as it may have been. There was an undeniable presence of an art director, something I’m not convinced was present in a few of the other similarly rated titles I have seen. Some of the shots were noticeably well composed and even clever, and required an artistic vision and some decent effort to create. The animation wasn’t awful, the designs ranged from serviceable to genuinely charming (I like the subtlety of Hyoi and Rui’s cat-like features!), and I liked that the characters actually emoted. It wasn’t as generic as I expected and took some risks, even if they didn’t pay off and left it with a reputation of being “too grotesque to be enjoyable”.

I can understand the common criticisms of the gore and body horror being poorly animated, but I won’t decry it for existing and “being ugly”... of course it’s ugly, it’s body horror reminiscent of The Thing from The Thing. (Now would be a good time to warn people not to look this OVA up, unless they are sure they are okay with body horror and gore of this calibre. Tentacles with teeth and spines rip out of people’s skin from the inside and deform their hosts, it is quite awful! I would also include a warning for trypophobia -- there are shots where the mutations form clusters of holes on the skin.) The body horror in Dark Cat being disgusting and making my skin crawl isn’t a fault -- I think it’s the intended purpose. Though I will concede that:

The phallic imagery of the horrific flesh mutations, particularly that of the teacher who attacked Rui, was… bizarre, considering that otherwise the OVA isn’t particularly dark in tone or otherwise sexually graphic.

Perhaps having grotesque body horror is completely unexpected in a story about two bishounen teens (?) who can turn into cats and fight ghosts.

Yes, Dark Cat, the OVA put on Worst Anime Ever lists for being a grotesque spectacle, is just as commonly placed on those lists for being a dumb anime about guys that can transform into house cats and who fight supernatural entities with not so amazing powers. This is a gripe I’ve seen in a few popular reviews, but there was no point during my watching experience that I thought, “Man, these teens are pansies, they don’t even turn into big scary lions or anything! What’s the point, it’s practically a power-down! cinemasins ding” because I don’t go into anime expecting every single male character I see to be Big & Strong & Cool, because I uh… don’t have brain worms I guess? I don’t know what to say about this criticism really, other than people who watch a lot of shounen have very strange hang ups about super powers.

Otherwise, it seems the biggest reason Dark Cat is lauded as One of the Worst -- perhaps even ahead of the silly concept and nauseating gore -- is actually because of the abysmal english dub. It’s my honour to say that I didn’t watch the dub, so it doesn’t factor in at all into my impressions!

So in the end, perhaps my only true gripes with Dark Cat are:

Despite having no particular issue with body horror and gore existing, the extent of destruction and graphic death gave the OVA a bit of a snuff film vibe.

The conclusion to the story was quite bad.

It could be surmised by the brief plot outline I wrote earlier that Dark Cat isn’t a very complicated story. Demons and ghosts exist and wreak havoc on emotionally vulnerable humans, and supernatural soldiers try to mediate between the realms by purifying tortured ghosts and saving those dragged into darkness by evil entities. These beats are common in the supernatural genre of anime, but Dark Cat’s handling of its tragic morality tale left me more confused than anything.

Koizumi didn’t do anything wrong -- he shouldn’t have had to die for the sin of not reciprocating Aimi’s feelings, nor for developing depression after the rejection and death of his classmate and crush. Aimi… did things wrong, but was nevertheless the most compelling character in the OVA. Throughout Aimi was kind, patient, and forgiving when it came to being treated badly by Koizumi. In the finale however, it is revealed that Aimi was the one responsible for Koizumi’s crush’s death, assumedly having murdered her out of jealousy or out of revenge on Koizumi’s behalf for hurting his feelings. Prior to this, the first students to be killed by the tentacle monsters just happened to be the ones that had bullied Koizumi in class earlier that day -- implying that Aimi was getting revenge on them, as well.

It was with these revelations that I started to wonder: Why not just let the flesh monster manifest as a direct result of Aimi’s negative feelings? Aimi confessed to murdering Koizumi’s crush before the events of the OVA -- would she have done so if she wasn’t being influenced by the malignant force set on her by Jukokubo? I feel that her arc would have been much more interesting without the introduction of a non-compelling and badly designed villain like Jukokubo, because then we would know it was all her. Even if she was influenced by forces exacerbating her pre-existing jealousy and rage, that is a more satisfying option than having a big dumb green cat of a villain to trace everything back to so neatly.

And really, what did Jukokubo do in the story beyond take the spotlight, and the blame, from Aimi? He had some previous relation to Hyoi and Rui, but it’s not developed at all, and his ideological rivalry with Hyoi was trivial. Hyoi could have come to the same conclusions about holding out hope for humanity without Jukokubo there to insist he be a guest to debate on his political podcast.

The lack of accountability regarding Aimi is a part of why the resolution to her conflict with Koizumi feels so wrong -- he succumbs to her feelings because he realizes the evil was born from her suffering, and he feels that he has to sacrifice himself to make up for unknowingly hurting her so much that she turned into a monster from hell. In the end she is absolved via being purified and getting to die with her spirit entwined with Koizumi’s, and he apologizes for having not recognized how he was hurting her.

Aimi kills his crush, kills his bullies, and ends up -- inadvertently, at least -- killing almost all of their classmates, because she was tilted about her childhood friend not realizing she had romantic feelings for him. And when Koizumi learns all of this, he apologizes and dies with her, and this is proof of humanity’s goodness? The dark clouds part and the rain stops and Aimi and Koizumi ascend in a heavenly ray of light, because he decided, while she was devouring him, that he was wrong to ignore his murderous best friend’s love for him?

I guess it’s fine -- it was probably mostly Jukokubo’s fault anyway, and everyone was just an unfortunate victim of his meddling… 😒

Other than the bad writing, the string of deaths that happen in the finale when the monster lets loose in the school are quite uncomfortable to behold. Deformed student bodies are splayed and strewn around classrooms, and the bullies are rendered into unrecognizable mounds of pulsating flesh in their homes. The violence of a fight against a monster like this, I can handle, but the graphic images of helpless death were difficult to stomach. And in this OVA, there is no miraculous reversal of the demon’s damage once it is purified -- there is no implication whatsoever that everyone who died isn’t still just as dead as Aimi and Koizumi in the end.

The main thing I was actually worried about when I watched Dark Cat was that there would be sexual assault, thanks to reviewers griping it for “generic hentai tentacles”. I am relieved to say that there is none, at least not insofar as deserving a comparison to actual porn. There is sexual content scattered throughout the horror scenes: The occasionally phallic appearance of the tentacles, shots of the tentacles coming down from under skirts, and there is one shot of nudity when Aimi’s shirt is ripped open as she transforms, though I would say it’s too horrific and ugly to be sexualized or otherwise considered “fanservice”.

What is the point of the hits of sex imagery in Dark Cat? I have no idea. This isn’t Alien, it isn’t about the horror of sexual assault or the violence of creation -- though the main horror of the scene where Rui is ambushed by the teacher seems to be that she uses magic to seduce him, only to reveal a very phallic tentacle from her mouth that she means to kill (or infect…?) him with, which can have multiple, potentially offensive readings… it is a one off, however -- and there doesn’t seem to be any moral posturing about it as is often seen in slashers. I couldn’t parse any sort of consistent STI allegory regarding the plague of tentacles upon the student body, despite how many summaries I have read that describe the tentacles as that, a “plague”.

… I realize I am probably the only person on earth to give any aspect of Dark Cat’s production this much thought. To sum up: It seems to just exist for the shock value. Considering the extent of disgusting imagery already present a la The Gore and Deformation of Human Bodies, I don’t think this OVA benefitted from featuring some explicit looking tendrils, beyond cementing its abhorrent reputation.

Is this all to say that I think Dark Cat is a good OVA? No, of course not. It’s tone deaf, and tasteless, and has awkward pacing and bad writing. But compared to the utterly soulless and artistically devoid works the likes of Skelter Heaven and Mars of Destruction, I would say the fact I was able to write this much about Dark Cat is testament to that fact that it at the very least, contains content -- and some of that content was like, decent! Skelter+Heaven was such a mess it was all I could do to understand the sequence of events, and Mars of Destruction was so bland I literally have no posts about it on the blog despite watching it more than once. Psychic Wars was a snoozefest I barely finished that similarly has no mention on the blog, and Hanoka’s production gimmick couldn’t save it from being a totally forgettable romance story.

Therefore, Dark Cat is the best worst title I have seen thus far, by virtue of being executed with an average amount of competency for an OVA from the early 90s, and for having a balance of good and bad elements that gave me something to hold onto and mull over after viewing.

3/10.

Oh, and I loved the bad 80s insert songs.

#:Dark Cat #dark cat #2138 words later the verdict is. It was ok

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 4 years

Text

Rose Puppetry Ch5: Caught in the Web of Mr. Spider

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world. Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did. Then she fell in love. And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1. Ch2. Ch3. Ch4.

Chapter Content Notes: graphic imagery of spiders, violence, character death, attempted murder, stabbing, references to actual character murder, mind control/possession, comas

I would like to take a moment and remind everyone that this fic is roughly inspired by the Mechanism’s album Once Upon A Time (In Space) and that that narrative’s climax is rather gruesome. Additionally, this chapter especially was influenced by the Magnus Archives, which is a horror podcast.

Please take those facts into consideration prior to reading.

I would also like to remind you all that there is one more chapter after this one, and thus the fic does not conclude here.

“Ruby?”

Penny speaks her beloved’s name over and over again. Her voice, a cracking repetition of a broken, almost hopeless recording caught on a looping tape. The mechanical girl who had come and fought so hard can do nothing but stare. She hopes the sight before her isn’t real, that she’s mistaken, that this isn’t how their story ends.

Some history books will say it is. They will narrate the story of a miserable failure of a military project. One who rebelled against her creators, her masters, and cost not only herself, but the one she loved her life. These history books will be produced in the harsh, cold printing presses that remain loyal to the faltering Atlesian throne. A desperate attempt to rewrite history in their favor, but not much more than that really.

Other books, ones with a bit more accuracy, will know better. For even if there is a ‘happily ever after’ or a ‘the end’ to a story, there’s always a moment after that. Something that happens next. Right up until the final end of death comes for the characters.

And neither Penny nor Ruby are quite dead yet.

So it really would be a sad, sorry tale that reaches its conclusion here, wouldn’t it?

The rebels infiltrate the menacing fortress to save the innocent girl and are felled by her hand, now corrupted by the darkness that had ensnared her. No hope of a happy tomorrow. Simply a brutal, violent end and a laboratory awash in blood.

For that’s what happens when you wander into a spider’s web. You tend to get caught by the spider. And, you know, eaten.

The thing, the crucial detail, that must be taken into account about this tale, though. The one thing those Atlesian history books will try to wipe away and conceal and keep the public from knowing. The little detail that keeps this ending from being the true ending of the story.

It’s simply that Ruby Rose is not the spider.

Of course, she is something, and historians (and, after them, archivists) will have quite a wondrous time debating amongst themselves what exactly she is. But, what she is not, is the spider. The hungry arachnid who waits so long for its prey to come, who binds its meal tightly in silky thread for later consumption.

Some, and they will have fairly strong evidence for their cause, will argue Ruby was simply the first caught in the spider’s web. Those ones have a valid, if not entirely understanding of the circumstances as a whole, point.

A spider’s web is a sticky, tricky thing. When you’re all alone in it, you may see little hope of escape, of anything but the spider’s looming, menacing legs, its snapping jaws, or its eight dark, beady eyes. But that’s only if and when the spider chooses to focus on you. They are, after all, creatures that can be distracted. Ones that can decide to eat something—someone—else. So, maybe Ruby was the spider’s first chosen meal, but she was one left unfinished due to the arrival of an enticing, delectable follow up.

A spider’s web also happens to be a delicate thing and, if put under too much weight, may potentially collapse.

Let us now return to the scene and become observers, ceaseless watchers, to what happens when this particular web takes on quite a bit of weight.

Are you scared yet? You’re probably wondering if you should be. It’s natural, of course. Debating whether or not you should trust the words you read. Should you stop here? What if it gets worse? But, it’s pretty bad here. Do you really want this ending to be the ending?

What happens when you don’t stop, though? When you continue reading the words, bringing them into the reality of being Known? Didn’t expect to be trapped reading a tale without recourse on how to know if the true end is horrible or not without going along with it until it reaches it’s natural conclusion, did you?

Have you considered that, perhaps, it is you who is trapped in the spider’s web?

So, tell me, how much do you really want to know? You’re curious, aren’t you? Driven. Eager to witness all that happens here. Why would you remain otherwise?

Let’s see how it goes, shall we?

Our story, our statement, resumes.

Ever so slowly, Ruby turns her head and looks at Penny. There is no recognition, no emotion of any kind on her face. Ruby blinks, or, rather, she closes her eyelids and opens them again in a movement that could be perceived as a blink. A movement that makes her a stranger to Penny.

“Ruby,” Penny repeats, as if the simple utterance of the name will break the spell. No such enchantment that can be so easily undone exists. Not here. Not now.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

New footsteps echo through the laboratory. Penny spins around. Dr. Watts makes his way over from the door. Each step he takes is measured and calculated. His past projects, those horrible menaces whispered about in fear, file into the room behind him.

Cinder looks at the scene laid out before her and smirks. Tyrian laughs. Hazel blocks the doorway with his bulk.

“For a super weapon, I expected you to be smarter than to simply walk into what was so obvious a trap.” Dr. Watts chuckles at Penny. “Foolish of me to underestimate the weakness of love, I suppose.”

“Let. Ruby. Go.” Penny clenches her fists. She raises her daggers. She doesn’t have the advantage here, but that won’t stop her.

“If you insist.” Watts waves a dismissive hand. With his other, he takes a remote out from his pocket and clicks a button on it. The clasps around Ruby’s wrists and ankles snap open. He turns to walk away, but pauses before he exits the laboratory. “Do try to leave at least some of them intact,” he tells Cinder, Tyrian, and Hazel. “It would be a pity for so many good bodies to go to waste.” He exits.

Penny turns to Ruby one last time. “Ruby…” This time it’s a begging sob that escapes her lips. “Please, no.”

Ruby stands. She reaches around herself, to the sheath attached to her belt. Her fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade there. Ruby withdraws the weapon. There’s no sign she recognizes the desperate plea in Penny’s eyes.

The sword slashes through the air.

Penny dodges. She retreats away from Ruby’s attack. Her daggers hover around her. She can’t bring herself to command them to retaliate.

“Ruby, please, it’s me, it’s Penny! You have to recognize me!”

Ruby draws back. For a brief, hopeful second, Penny thinks she’s gotten through to her love. A small smile appears on Penny’s lips. It almost immediately falls away.

Ruby lifts her hand not holding the sword. Around it, thick, black sludge forms. It branches out into a limb all of its own. Bleached white claws emerge at its tips, like grotesque fingers. There’s a second where the Grimm arm moves and shifts, as if adjusting to its own weight. A twisted smirk appears on Ruby’s face. She looks between her new appendage and Penny.

Penny’s daggers come to bear a defensive position in front of her without her telling them to. The Grimm arm tries to dart around them, but the daggers cut through it like butter. It disintegrates into dust. Ruby screams. Her voice is loud, hoarse, and pained. Penny hesitates, doesn’t take the opening. She can’t… she doesn’t…she needs to…but it’s Ruby! RUBY!

She can’t just kill her. Penny glances behind her, at where she knows her team is, but there is no aid to be found there. Cinder, Tyrian, and Hazel are on the attack. The less said about that carnage, the better. Penny is on her own. She turns back to Ruby and, with every fiber of her being protesting, she prepares to fight.

I’ll make it quick, Penny tells Ruby in her head. You don’t deserve this suffering. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

Penny ducks Ruby’s sword, and feigns to the left.

I’m sorry that this is how it ends.

Penny commands her daggers to cut through the Grimm limbs Ruby keeps painfully forming and sending at her. She refuses to allow herself to wince at the agonizing screams.

I’m sorry you didn’t get to live a long and happy life.

Penny sees her opening. Ruby has faltered. Penny allows herself a second to take a breath, and then she lunges. Her daggers all are pointed forward, ready to complete the death blow.

I’m sorry you ever had the misfortune of knowing me.

Penny’s killing blow doesn’t make its target. Ruby faked her out. Midway into Penny’s attack, she dodges. Penny has no time to change course. Her eyes widen. Ruby’s Grimm limbs surround Penny, grab her, hold her.

Horror takes over Penny’s face. She knows what’s going to happen right before the final Grimm arm makes the plunge into her chest. Her mind goes blank with the pain. Whether or not she’s screaming, Penny has no idea.

Ruby’s darkness, her corruption, seeps into Penny, worming its way to the mechanical girl’s heart, her core. For Penny can only be destroyed if it is. The Annihilation reaches its target. It circles its prey, completely surrounding it. It surges in for the kill.

In that dreadful moment, Death doesn’t come. It was never going to. It has, shall we say, a feel, for these things. It knew, all throughout this battle, how it would end. Death knew it would not be necessary to send its Reaper here.

The Silver Eye, which had protecting Ruby’s soul and had waited and waited and watched for its opportunity finally found its chance. When the Grimm entombing it reached out to destroy the one its guardian loved, the Silver Eye, for the first time in its existence, felt something.

Remember, the Eye, on its own, had never been a whole. It was forged, by the King of Vale, out of the remaining half of the Staff of Creation. Though it could exist on its own, it never truly stopped longing to find its missing, stolen part. And, when its prison made that final, almost deadly attack, through those dark tendrils ensnaring it, the Silver Eye finally felt that echo, that reverberation, that it had ached for for so very long.

In that moment, it wakes up and reaches.

Blinding silver light shines out through the laboratory. Every vestige of Annihilation’s power, every bit of Grimm, inside a person or out, is disintegrated. For those who have long since opened their arms to Destruction and allowed its influence into themselves, this means Death finally comes for its dues. For Ruby, who the Silver Eye loves and cherishes, this means purification from her corruption. For Penny, this means her life is spared and, from within her, the Silver Eye is answered.

Once upon a time, the General King of Atlas found the blueprints for an old inventor’s creation. He saw it as a grand opportunity to build a great weapon for the glory of his kingdom. To fuel it, he saw no better resource than his kingdom’s relic itself. He split the Staff of Creation in half, stored one part away for later use and fashioned the other into a core for the new automaton.

Unbeknownst to him, in doing this, the General King created a mirror to the Silver Eye; the Winter Soul. A new entity all of its own, it was. One curious, fascinated about the world around it, and ever so willing to learn.

Is it such a shock then, that was built to be a weapon of immeasurable power turned its back to this objective and instead chose to attempt to understand and love the world it found itself in? Is it such a shock that it came to love one who would be later chosen to preserve life itself?

Much has been written and recorded about the Fall of Atlas. There are numerous accounts of the sudden surge of blinding light that shone across the kingdom. Many theorize, but they do not know the truth of its source. What they do know is that it wiped out the city’s mainframe and, for the first time in history, Atlas was left vulnerable. It didn’t take long for the Rebellion’s ships to rise from Mantle and begin that final, gruesome attack after that.

Later, the Rebellion’s charge into Atlas Academy, of their slaughter of the robotic forces of the Atlesian Military, will be dramatized into something far more glorious and far less bloody than it was. The retellings will focus on the storming of the throne room, of the General King being forced to his knees in surrender, the capture of the notorious Dr. Watts. They will applaud the victories of the day, and blatantly ignore the executions of the weeks to follow.

And so, Atlas’s web of power collapses, crumpling into a thousand twisting, tangled threads. The spider, the warmonger, who sat at its center, weaving and warping the world into something that suited him and only him, and growing fat off the results, is squashed.

Those two who were responsible, who gave the world the chance it needed to rid itself of the boot pressing down upon its throat, they were never known.

For Ruby, now saved from the Grimm but forever scarred by it, looks down upon the sleeping form of her fallen beloved, sees the full extent of Penny’s injuries, gathers her up in her arms, and steals her away to where she can be repaired.

In peace.

#rwby #nuts and dolts #ruby rose #penny polendina #grimm!ruby #rose puppetry #whirls writing #if you're thinking the title is a reference #you'd be right #😏#im gonna regret posting this in the middle of the night #but it also feels like the right time too #so here we are

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