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hebuiltfive · 1 year

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Thundertober Day One: Father

Thundertober is here!! This the first time I'm doing a monthly prompt challenge (I hope I'm doing all of this right) so I am both excited and nervous. I'll be posting them over on AO3 too, if you prefer reading over there. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings for: implied child abuse, needles and just general angst because this is the Hood we're talking about here. The Hood's current plan for his niece means he has to deal with some unwanted memories of a certain parental figure. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32

In the grand scheme of life, very little had changed in the years since he’d left this residence. There were minute, subtle details, such as the cobwebs collecting between opened doorways or mould growing in patches on parts of the ceilings, but generally the house still managed to evoke that same suffocatingly claustrophobic feeling that he’d learned to loathe.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw a ghost flitting down one of the corridors, howling like a lone wolf for the good old days that were long gone. He couldn’t relate, not only for his lack of belief in the paranormal — he’d never bought into those kinds of superstitions — but also from his lack of having any of the good old days.

His past, in this house, was tainted by sour memories of a father who had never truly cared for him. Bitterness was a familiar flavour, an acquired taste that he’d grown used to over the years. If Belah Gaat was ever to become a ghost, — unlikely as this may have been in his opinion — his history with the terraced house would leave him haunting the property for eternity just out of spite because, for almost half a century, he had been the one haunted by the very nature of that building he now stood in again.

In many ways, the human brain was an impressive feat. Very few people would disagree with that line of thought. The way humanity was able to think and process and plan wasn’t necessarily exclusive to the homines sapientes brain but it was undeniably unique compared to many other animals.

For example, take a lion who was stalking his prey, watching their target from the sidelines, and using their surroundings, perhaps somewhere as cliché as the Savanna, to their advantage. Shrubs and bushes would be utilised to provide ample hiding spots for the predator. Their eyes never leave their target — perhaps today the lion has his heart set on a juicy looking antelope — right up until the opportune moment to strike. The lion stalks and ambushes, but that level of cunning that humanity had developed was lacking. Ambushes were not carefully laid plans.

In this sense, spiders were the closest Belah could think of when it came to similarities with the human mind. Though they would wait for their prey to fall into their cleverly crafted web, arachnids had shown evidence of luring their target into their traps, striking once they were well and truly stuck.

That was precisely what he was doing in back that godforsaken house.

Belah had never wanted to return to the crumbling remnants of his family home, but he had a message that needed to be sent. It was a message that he’d been repeating over and over for years now, only the recipient hadn’t cared to listen. He’d make her listen this time, because this time he was pulling out the big guns.

Tanusha had been trained well, as much as that pained him to admit. He'd barely heard her enter the former residence, but the creak from the rusted hinges gave her away. Still, it wasn’t as loud as he’d expected her to have been. He’d offer her praise for that if he wasn’t so determined to break her.

The dust-covered floors drowned out the echo of her footsteps. Couple that with her talent for stealth, and he soon lost any trace of where she could have gone. Though the house wasn’t large by any means, Tanusha had an acute ability to creep up on people. He couldn’t have that today.

Today he was in charge of the surprises.

Belah couldn’t deny how much Tanusha’s skills irked him. They felt like a slap to the face, not only because he couldn’t claim to be the mastermind who had helped her nurture all her talents but also due to her constantly refusing to work for him. Oh, to master her skillset, her mind, her abilities… Belah would have given anything, but time and time and time again had his niece denied him her services. Time and time and time again had she put her other family above her own flesh and blood. It was growing tiresome. Today, he swore, would be the last day she denied him.

They were family and he was going to show her just what that meant, even if it required him having to venture into some of the darker moments of his past that he would have much rather forgotten.

He had to get her to see.

Family was important. Loyalty was more so. The endless beatings, the constant emotional degradation Belah had received at the hands and from the mouth of his father would have been enough for him to have turned his back on him long, long before his father’s unfortunate demise, but he never did. Despite the torture his father had put him through for all those years, Belah had listened to his father when he spoke of what family meant and he never once betrayed him by being disloyal. Belah wouldn’t have even called his father’s murder (officially not committed at his own hands) as a betrayal. That, he’d claim, was a mercy.

Kyrano had once known that loyalty too. His brother had once held loyalty in high regard just as Belah did. The claims of loyalty he made now were foolish and hollow. There was no greater test of one’s piety than in how they treated their family and Kyrano’s allegiance to the Tracy family and not to him symbolised his brother’s disloyalty in swathes.

Family stayed true to one another no matter what, at least that was what Belah had so often preached. It fell on deaf ears with Kyrano and then, in turn, with his niece. How annoying it was that she took after her father so much. Tanusha’s potential had she only been trained and nurtured under his house, under his rules…

Today, he’d teach her the true meaning of loyalty. What it meant to be family. If he had to dredge up some uncomfortable moments from his own past, so be it.

He sensed her presence behind him before she could sneak up on him.

Belah had hoped his appearance would come as a surprise to her and, by the look on his niece’s face that he spied from the broken vanity mirror in front of him, his plan had succeeded. For months now Belah had led Tanusha on one wild goose chase after another. His aim had been simple: to instil such little optimism in finding him at any location so when she finally did find him, at this very specific location, she would caught off guard.

His lips twisted into a crooked grin.

His plan had paid off.

“Tanusha, my dear, what a wonderful surprise.”

He turned to face her, arms outstretching in a welcome that was anything but sincere.

Her gloved fists rose instantly, but he knew she wouldn’t strike just yet. Curiosity, he hoped, would get the better of her. He could tell by the look in her eyes. They were so similar to his own. Belah often wondered how much she despised that fact.

“What are you doing here?” There was no patience in her voice, no urgency, but he could practically feel the agitation seeping from her. Whatever her plan had been, his appearance had thrown it out of the window.

“Now, now. I should think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

“A thank you?” Tanusha practically spat. “I can’t think of a reason to ever thank you.”

Dust from the remains of the house had fallen and collected on one of his sleeve cuffs. He simply wiped the flecks away with two swipes of his hand. “So impolite. Here I thought my dear brother had taught you better than that.”

It was obvious that he was trying to get a rise out of her, trying to test the waters to see how far he could push her until she broke, but she still took the bait. Tanusha straightened her spine, adding an inch or two to her height at the mere mention of Kyrano.

The reaction made his smile morph to a smirk.

“You don’t get to talk about my father.”

“Why not? We are brothers.”

“By blood, maybe, but I think he’s made it very clear — we’ve both made it very clear — that we want nothing to do with you.”

“Ah, yes. Chosen family and all that.” Belah could barely contain his smarminess, taking a couple of steps towards his niece.

To his surprise, she didn’t back up.

“I’m going to ask you again; what are you doing here?”

Belah simply shrugged. “I thought I’d put an end to this cat and mouse game.”

“No.” Tanusha sounded doubtless, so sure that she knew the reason behind this particular move. Whther she truly felt that way or whether it was an attempt to try and throw him off guard, Belah couldn’t tell. “You’d never turn yourself in,” she continued. “Not after months of being on the run, which, by the way, is coming to an end soon. The GDF are tracking my location and they’ll be here—”

Belah sighed indignantly and gestured to the room they were standing in.

“This room you’re standing in is very significant, Tanusha. Tell me why.”

She blinked at him, stunned at his sudden morph into a lecturer.

When she didn’t reply, he repeated, “Tell me why.”

“I don’t care about who’s room this, and I don’t see how it’s relevant—”

“Your grandfather’s.”

Oh, how he delighted in watching Tanusha’s face drop!

“You never met the man,” Belah continued, now unable to hide his triumph in his tone, “but he was to me in many ways I am to you.”

Tanusha had grown paler. He wasn’t sure if it was from the first bombshell he’d dropped or the second.

Either way, he wasn’t about to let up yet.

“Does it shock you, Tanusha?”

When his niece didn’t offer a response, Belah continued. “My father was good at many things. He was an astute businessman, a man who excelled because of his drive and passion, but the one thing he was never good at being was a father.”

Tanusha remained silent, taking in the room with a different set of eyes know. She had grown more curious at this relic of her heritage, no matter how decayed and decrepit it had become.

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

“For a pity party?”

Belah managed to hide his irritation well, shoving his immediate response to her rude comment to the side so he didn’t ruin his plans. He had spent so long crafting them after all, it would have been a waste to throw it all away now that she was here.

“No. I brought you here to remind you of what family is. What it means. My father failed to love me, failed to care for me, yet I still remained by his side, loyal until the end. It is something you and your own father have seemingly lost in translation somewhere along the line.”

Tanusha sighed as though she were exasperated. “Is this some sort of ploy to get me to work for you again because, if it is, uncle, it isn’t going to work.”

That sickly smile that promised nothing but evil returned to his lips. “I knew words were never going to win you back, but I had to make the first impression worthwhile. Hold her.”

The command had been aimed to his henchman behind her who had done a fantastic job at getting the drop on his niece. It was no easy feat, but Belah wouldn’t ever congratulate the man for doing the job he’d been paid to do.

Tanusha failed to dodge his henchman’s lunge for her, keeping her in place with a firm grip whilst Belah advanced. Whilst she tried to free herself, she hadn’t taken notice of her uncle, not until she felt the sharp prick in her neck. Questioning eyes found his and he merely shrugged.

“It’s a light sedative so we can move you somewhere more… pleasant than this for the rest of our discussion. You didn’t really think I’d allow you to keep me talking until your friends arrived, did you?”

He could see her lose her vision, lose her grip on her senses as the drug pulled her under.

“I will get you to see, just as my father made me see, Tanusha, and then you’ll understand. Then, you’ll choose to join me. Then, we can be unstoppable.”

#thundertober 2023 #thunderbirds fanfiction #five fics #the hood #kayo kyrano #thunderbirds are go

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sackfoo · 11 months

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Stampy's lovely world ending

Spoiker warning of course!

No idea how I'm formatting this but here we go i guess.

I wanted to start off discussing the ending, which people seem split on. I personally kind of found it weird that we didn't get Stampy and HTT calling a permanent truce consideribg fight to forgive made it seem like Stampy was on the slow path to making peace with HTT. I was kind of waiting for it, some reveal that HTT didn't design the trap in the nether since it was kind of Stampy who made the decision to go to the nether, that HTT was working for a higher power against his will or something, that Stampy would find something at HTT's castle that put everything into context, i was REALLY expecting some sort of fake-out ending where things ended on a definitive note but where HTT realized he didn't want the lovely world without Stampy and would invite him to stay or chase after him like Veeva did, but that didn't quite happen. HTT doesn't get any sort of closure one way or the other, it's just implied he owns lovely world now and it's all super lonely and a hallow victory but we don't see that confirmed.

That isn't to take away from the episode though. If that's how Stampy wanted to end it who am i to tell him otherwise? I can see the intent behind it and respect it even if it's gonna leave a hallow hole in my heart that i am forever scared to fill again due to fear of whatever i fill that void with ending too, or worse, the people behind it turn out to be huge jerks and the community doesn't feel very safe. Wait what was i talking about again? Oh yeah, Stampy cat. I won't knock it for the ending being a little too heavy on the bitter rather than the sweet, it's a good episode and i can always just download the world when the download is released and all that, and assuming Youtube doesn't go bankrupt and all of Stampy's older vids don't become lost media, i can at least go back and rewatch all those old series whenever.

On the subject of people making content to fill the void and hopefully fostering a safe and inclusive community though, as i said in the past, I hope the ending of Lovely world pushes people to make more fun long term family friendly but also genuine content like lovely world. Stampy made these minecraft videos for so long and it always felt fun to watch him, it felt like he was being genuine the whole way through, there weren't a bunch of fast pased annoying edits and Stampy didn't feel like he was putting on this loud in your face persona to keep our attention, and most importantly, he was super kind and inclusive and respectful on top of being so imaginative and creative. I really wish there were more content creators like that on the platform. LGBTQ+ kids don't really have a lot of spaces to go where they can feel so safe and i think it's important that they have those spaces where they feel welcome.

Not saying those spaces don't exist but even when Stampy was still actively making videos, those spaces were fairly few and far between. I just hope that more people who grew up on Stampy take this opportunity and we get a renaissance of people making videos like Stampy and fostering communities like Stampy's while also bringing their own things to the table. SMPs maybe kind of fill that void but they're not for everybody (me included) and not what I'm talking about. The only other person i can think of that is closer to what i mean is Sqaishey, who is also amazing and feather adventures is still going for the foreseeable future, i just think it'd be nice if there were more people like Stampy and Sqaishey for kids to look up to and feel welconed by, as i have reiterated like 9 times in the last minute because I'm not good at making my point or ending a post like this.

#stampylonghead #stampy's lovely world #Lovely world finale

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revoevokukil · 2 years

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Heyy I hope you are better now! Here are some "asks" for you ❤️ 1. Games with Eternity, I just love the fairytale character of this story! 2. Eredin chapter of course... But I also love the first chapter for its lush introduction and references to celtic mythology and Shakespeare. 6. That must be the scene of the lonely human girl in the steppe with the northern lights and the wild hunt appearing in them. It's so different from their appearance in the Witcher Canon, with the addition of beauty to terror. As I've said before, I love your evocative writing overall 💖 10. Gotta be Larallac'h! Their dynamic is intense and you fleshed out Lara's character so well. She's a powerful sorceress trapped in the expectations of her people, and between her own love for Ava and her wish for independence! So good!!! 12. That's the threesome fic with Lara, Avallac'h and Eredin. Lara's so badass in that one. And hot at the same time hehhe

Hey! Thanks! I am gradually getting over the bug :)

On Eredin - let's just say after having thought about his character based on books alone at length, I love him much-much more than I did in the past. So much so constructing him (as Lara) has really caught my interest.

I am really delighted to hear the steppe scene stuck out. It's one of my own favourite "pictures" from the story. I hope though that I learn to pace & be evocative at the same time at some point.

Ditto on Lara/Avallac'h. I thought my rare-pairs were Ciri-centric at the start, but no. (Ava/Ciri is not really a rare pair anymore.) I really love Lara/Crevan. Everything starts there, both in regard to his character & in regard to the Saga's underbelly. And in regard to his relationship with Ciri. I will also never stop seeing Avallac'h's & Lara's relationship as much more complicated than an unconsummated unrequited love. There is just too much humanly relatable, painful, and beautiful there, and his feelings centuries later are much too intense. Anyway, I desist; after all I have written about it, and I am delighted I managed to make you consider it.

But wow, I did not expect that cursed threesome to be a fave 😅

Thank you! 💛

#asks #writing #the witcher #avallac'h #lara dorren #eredin breacc glas #aen elle #lara x crevan

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marjaystuff · 3 months

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Guest Review: The Unwedding by Ally Condie

Grand Central Publishing

June 4th, 2024

The Unwedding by Ally Condie is her first attempt at adult fiction after being a successful young adult novelist. There are themes of grief, loss, family, trust, and healing. The plot is a locked mystery since the characters are “locked” into a hotel.

“. I always come from the character initially. This is where stories start for me, having an idea of a person doing something in a situation. When writing adult books, I can write themes and issues not as relevant to younger people. But sometimes it was from a different perspective. This was not my first mystery. I had previously written a juvenile mystery that was nominated for the Edgar Awards, titled Summerlost.”

The setting is a remote luxurious hotel in Big Sur, California. Even though the main character, Ellery Wainwright, is surrounded by a cast of supporting characters she feels very much alone and lonely. The characters are stuck, “locked,” at the hotel after a huge storm hits, closing off the guests from the rest of the world. They are isolated with roads and bridges closed and no one able to rescue them for a few days.

“Big Sur is gorgeous and beautiful. The weather does play havoc there just as in the story. Mudslides have taken out roads, bridges, and people had to be helicopter out. The murder I added, but people have been trapped there for several days. The hotel is based on a few hotels in Big Sur. I have not stayed at them because they are so expensive but did eat dinner there. There is one called Post Ranch Inn and another one Ventana Big Sur.”

Ellery decided to be a guest at the Broken Point resort since she had the reservations. She and her husband, Luke, were supposed to spend their twentieth wedding anniversary together until he tells her he wants a quick divorce since he already has a girlfriend. Unfortunately for her, after deciding to go swimming in the pool she discovers a dead body. It seems also at the resort is a wedding party. But the “un-wedding” is real since the dead body was that of the groom, dying under suspect circumstances. After another guest dies soon after, also under mysterious circumstances, she teams up with two guests who befriend her, Ravi and Nina. They become amateur sleuths trying to find the killer before more guests drop dead.

There were many facets that went into this plot. “In 2019 after I got divorced, I went on a trip by myself. I was sad since I had not expected the divorce and did not want it. I went on a trip to center myself and get away from everything. On the trip I found I was so lonely. I was paying attention to everyone there. There was a wedding there. I thought if there was a murder here, I would be the only person who could solve it. I am the only one paying attention to everyone else. This is how I came up with the book idea. The rest of the week I plotted out the book and thought about a character in this situation. My experience was very different but some of the feelings between Ellery and myself are the same, particularly when the children are away. Suddenly I was missing out on a large chunk of their childhood. This feels painful. My ex-husband is not Luke.”

Readers see Ellery as relatable since she is suffering from heartbreak and a past trauma after witnessing the death of a bus accident victim. Her own life will never get the happily ever after.

“She is, caring, anxious, an observer, and someone who connects the dots. She is very strong and has encountered a lot in her life, which comes to bear in the story. For example, she was involved in an accident that made her who she is. She felt after it that her hard experience was behind her, and then she finds a dead body here at the hotel. But by the end of the book, she is happy to see there is joy that comes from unexpected places. After her my favorite character is Ravi. He is smart, sarcastic, and has a heart of gold. He is very urbane. He compliments her because he has some life experiences she does not have and vice versa.”

The setting was very interesting, creating a sense of foreboding. There were twists to the plot and the main character’s emotional state will tug at readers’ heartstrings.

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dendrite-blues · 3 years

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For a relatively short exchange, this scene is jam packed with characterization for Loki.

It’s also our first reliable look into what Loki was like before Thor 1. Not as described by others, but first hand and from his own mouth. I think that deserves a closer look, to see what we can learn about Loki and how he thinks.

This scene is significant because it tells us what Loki’s personality is like when he’s not running for his life. It tells us who he was before his trauma and what his core beliefs are underneath those layers of humor and bravado.

Better yet, since he’s alone we can assume that every line in this scene is presumably true, or at least Loki believes it to be true since he has no audience but himself.

The dialogue centers mostly around the statement “You deserve to be alone, and you always will be.” I’m not going to focus too much on the “alone” motif since I already dedicated an entire meta post to it.

What I think is more interesting about this scene is actually the looping, and the stages Loki goes through in trying to deal with it. There’s a lot of really interesting character traits on display in that progression.

Loop 1: A Warm Bath and Glass of Wine

The first loop entails Sif lecturing Loki about cutting her hair, kicking him in the balls, and storming away. Loki kneels on the floor and he gives us this great line:

“A bad memory prison? How quaint. Some punishment. I remember exactly what I did after that. I went and had a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine, and I never thought about it again. Because it was just a bit of fun.”

So we can take this to be Loki’s default reaction to pain and criticism. When put into an unexpected conflict without any forethought or outside influence, this is what he says/does.

1) Downplay the damage/threat. How quaint. 2) Dispel/soothe the emotion. Nice hot bath. 3) Minimize the impact. Never thought about it again. 4) Deflect responsibility. Just a bit of fun.

Keep those in mind as we move forward, since we’ll be using them to make sense of what else Loki says in this scene.

Loops 2 and 3: Okay, Sif, Hang On

This bit is about Loki realizing just how bad his predicament is.

L: Okay. Okay, Sif. Hang on. S: No, you hear this. You deserve to be alone... And I always will be. L: Alright, I get it. Listen. You are a reconstruction of a past event created by the organization that controls all of time. So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah? S: Pathetic. (she kicks him again) L: (winces and groans)

As we all would expect from him, Loki’s first impulse is to try and talk his way out of it. What he says to achieve that goal is pretty revealing though. Because he doesn’t try to ease Sif’s upset by apologizing or explaining or offering to magic her hair back.

Any of these would have been more likely to save his nads in the given circumstance, right? The present threat is Sif, and she’s mad about what Loki did to her hair. But Loki doesn’t really see that. Rather, he treats her as a means to an end.

“So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah?”

To me, that choice reveals something of a blind spot Loki has to the feelings of others. Even if he doesn’t actively like hurting people, he does prioritize their problems below his, and quite shamelessly. And at least on his first impulse, he doesn’t seem to feel much remorse or empathy for them.

Usually in fanon we attribute this callousness to his trauma. He’s learned that no one can be trusted and no one cares, and so he doesn’t allow himself to care for others.

But between his Loop 1 sentiment of “It was just a bit of fun” for an event which caused real hurt to Sif, and his Loop 2/3 behavior of “you, stop being mad and help ME” I think it’s reasonable to say that selfishness/low empathy are traits Loki possessed pre-trauma.

Loop 4-????: Happens Off Screen

It’s unclear how many times Loki loops while the camera is following Mobius, but the implication is clear that it was been many, many repetitions. Somewhere in this his denial and deflection must break, because we come back to a much humbler, more pleading Loki.

The Final Loop: I Crave Attention

S: You conniving, craven... L: Sif. Sif. S: ...pathetic worm. L: Please, please, no more. Please, I beg you. I'm a horrible person. I get it. I really am. I cut off your hair because I thought it'd be funny. And it's not. Uh... I crave attention... because I'm... a narcissist. And I suppose it's... It's because I'm scared of being alone.

HOOO BOY, so this is quite a tough bit to analyze. There’s a lot of interpretations you could make, and a lot of topics to delve into. For the sake of focus, I’m going to ignore the narcissism question. That one really needs an entire post, and I want to focus on something else here.

That being, Loki’s way of processing conflict/punishment.

I’ve always found it strange how Loki takes such pride in being called a liar and cheat when he simultaneously has this chip on his shoulder about how nobody likes him.

Those two traits don’t seem to play well together, and I always scratched my head over how they coexist in his character. If he wants people to be nicer to him, maybe he should stop antagonizing them? Yeah?

Well, here we’re finally given a clear reason. Loki craves attention, he hates being alone. So how does he avoid it? Pranks and mischief.

Fair enough.

But then, if all his pranks lead to this outcome--outrage, retaliation, insult--why doesn’t he ever learn? How is it that after 1000 years of this behavior, he hasn’t found a better way to get the attention he craves?

Loop 1: Downplay, dispel, minimize, deflect. He accepts zero accountability for the impact of his actions, and doesn’t think at all about how they affect other people. Just a bit of fun. I had a hot bath and a glass of wine, and never thought about it again.

The only reason he reaches the level of self awareness on display in the Final Loop is because the looping forces him to contemplate his actions and the impulses within him that lead to that behavior.

This is projection on my part, but to me he acts as though this kind of deep reflection is a new thing for him. He sounds like someone sharing a revelation that he’s just had about himself. We’re being shown that Loki is a man of action. He will always move forward if he can, possibly because looking back to so painful that he can’t bring himself to do it.

Circling back around to the pride Loki has for his knavery, let’s suppose that he’s been on this negative reinforcement cycle since childhood. He’s always acted out to get attention, then received retaliation and insults for it, and then pushed the bad feelings out of his mind with creature comforts and mental gymnastics.

What happens over time, when you’re being constantly told that you’re a pain in the ass and no one likes you? Most of us would take it to heart, but Loki doesn’t. He has a big ego, big enough to resist that constant barrage of hate coming at him.

So how does he marry these two conflicting realities?

He turns it into an identity, the God of Mischief.

In his head, Loki excuses himself of blame by shifting the culpability to his moniker. It’s not that he’s immature and petty, he’s just a “trickster.” It’s in his nature to cause trouble, so he can’t help it. You wouldn’t dangle a steak in front of a tiger and blame the tiger for striking, would you? And if other people can’t take a “joke” then that’s not his fault, that’s on them for not having a sense of humor. It was just a bit of fun.

Here we see the union of these two halves of Loki, the lonely ice runt and the mischievous scamp. (And a little bit of the original Loki who Thor accused of being incapable of growth!)

By refusing to think about others, and excusing himself from responsibility, Loki successfully preserves his self worth and insulates himself to most of the negative emotions he experiences.

Pain, embarrassment, and grief aren’t pointless emotions though. They are vital feelings that serve to regulate our behavior, and that push us to conform to the ways of our social circles. Without them, we annoy and upset others. Be annoying for long enough and you will eventually find yourself, well, alone. As Loki is.

Thus “Mischief” is a self-defeating loop, and Loki is just as caught in it as the cell Mobius trapped him in.

In order to be free of both traps, Loki has to stop running. He has to take a deeper look at himself and realize how much he is getting in his own way. The entire scene is one big parallel between these two “loops.” Pretty neat, huh?

Sadly these kinds of thought loops are really difficult to break, they’re buried so deeply in our personalities and habits that we usually don’t notice them until life forces us to address them.

The cell is Loki’s wake up call, and thankfully he does seem to rise to the occasion. He tells Sif quite clearly what his problem is, and he does it with beautiful, painful honesty.

Which is why it’s so fucking awesome for Mobius to acknowledge that, and to finally give Loki a taste of positive attention.

You don’t deserve to be alone. I believe you can be anything, even something good. Whatever you two did, it was powerful enough to bring this whole place down.

It’s a beautiful scene. Well written, meticulously acted. The clarity of vision in the pacing and shot selection, it’s really something special.

#loki spoilers #loki #mcu #mobius #meta #discussion #discourse #scene study #long post #sif #time loop #tva #character study

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punchdrunkdoc · 2 years

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Just Breathe - Ch. 21

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

The main story is finished, so I won’t make you guys wait any longer before posting it - chapters 21 and 22 are both dropping tonight. There’s just an epilogue to follow and then this fic will be complete! I’m excited for you to read it, but I’m sad that its all done.

Thanks for all your love and comments over the past few months - its made posting this so much fun!

PDD

-----

Bruce,

Thank you for all you’ve done for me.

You offered me a place of safety when my life was in danger; you rescued me when I was trapped. But more than that, you gave me a home and a place to be myself. You accepted me without judgement or fear, and loved me for who I am - I’ll always be grateful for that. It was an amazing gift for someone who has always felt so alone.

But we were not to be. I understand the reasons why. And though we only had a short time together, that doesn’t make it any less precious. It was ephemeral, but beautiful. Just…not meant to be.

Our stars were crossed, and not aligned.

No, that’s not right.

‘Star-crossed’ implies that our paths will forever diverge, leading us farther and farther away, until we’re distant memories to each other…

I prefer to think of us as binary stars - drawn together by the unknowable universe, revolving around each other, but never able to bridge the distance.

Do you know that for most known binary systems only one star is visible? That lone star seems to dance around an empty space, and the presence of the unseen companion can only be inferred by its influence on gravity.

That’s how I think of us. You changed by orbit, and altered my gravity.

You’ll be my companion for the rest of my life. The one I dance with, unseen, forever.

I love you.

Goodbye.

Bruce carefully re-folded the letter.

It was foolish to carry around a note addressed to ‘Bruce’ on ‘Wayne’ family headed paper when he was dressed as his alter ego…but he couldn’t seem to leave it behind when he left the tower tonight.

He’d read and re-read it so many times over the past three days, he could recite the words by heart; but still, he couldn’t leave it behind.

He needed it with him.

He tried to smooth out the creases marring the thick white paper, but the marks remained from where he’d crumpled the note on first finding it.

He’d returned from the raid on Connell’s compound feeling battered and sore from the fight that had broken out. Connell hadn’t gone down easy; he’d barricaded himself in his study, leaving his goons to battle it out with the federal agents and SWAT teams. Bruce had helped, in a controlled rampage through the mansion that echoed the one from the week before.

But this time, when he reached Connell’s study, the criminal mastermind was too busy shredding incriminating evidence to bother arming himself with a gas-filled shot gun.

Bruce had taken him down easily and handed him over to the authorities - who found enough in that study alone to indict him on several federal charges.

Connell’s planned takeover of Gotham had failed before it even got started.

So Bruce had come home feeling sore to his bones, but with a lightness in his soul and anticipation surging through his veins. He’d jogged up the stairs towards Beth’s bedroom, ignoring the twinges of pain in his knees, eager to see her.

To pick up where they’d left off.

To start their lives, finally free from Newsome, her father and Connell.

But when he’d cracked open her door, all traces of her were gone. The gentle light of the sunrise spilling into her room illuminated her absence. The clothes she usually left hanging over the chair of the dresser were gone; her makeup…gone. The charger plugged into the wall…gone. The books on the bedside table…gone.

She was gone.

The only thing left was the note, resting on the crisply made bed.

His first reaction upon skimming the letter had been to crush it into a ball and throw it across the room. He couldn’t believe that after everything they’d been through, she’d left him with a ‘Dear John’ letter - it seemed too…cowardly…for his brave, fearless Beth.

When the anger passed, confusion took its place.

Why had she left?

After their kiss earlier, he felt they were finally on the same page. He’d poured all the love in his heart into that embrace, telling her over and over again through his touch and his thoughts how much he cherished her.

How much he wanted to be with her.

Had it not been enough? Was the obstacle of her ability too much to overcome?

Had she seen something in his thoughts that spooked her, like the night of the party? Something that convinced her, once and for all, that it could never work between them?

Bruce retrieved the letter and sat on the floor by the bed, contemplating the crumpled ball of paper in his hand. If this was really the end of them - if this ‘goodbye’ was all he would be left with - he would force himself to read it properly.

He smoothed out the paper and absorbed the words, imagining them in Beth’s voice.

…you gave me a home and a place to be myself. You accepted me without judgement or fear, and loved me for who I am - I’ll always be grateful for that. It was an amazing gift for someone who has always felt so alone…

Those words could have been referring to him. Beth had accepted him without judgement or fear. She had seen the real Bruce Wayne…and loved him anyway. She was right - it was an amazing gift. One he would try to appreciate, even when he felt like throwing it back in the universe’s face.

But we were not to be…

It didn’t seem fair. They had managed to find each other, and fall in love - a miraculous feat for two people so closed off from the world. She had brought him back from the brink of a grey and loveless life and shown him what could be possible if he opened his heart.

For them to still be alone after all that…it just didn’t seem fair.

Our stars were crossed and not aligned.

No, that’s not right.

‘Star-crossed’ implies that our paths will forever diverge, leading us farther and farther away, until we’re distant memories to each other…

I prefer to think of us as binary stars - drawn together by the unknowable universe, revolving around each other, but never able to bridge the distance.

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly at her choice of metaphor. Of course Beth would talk about them in terms of stars.

The stars had brought them together, after all.

You’ll be my companion for the rest of my life. The one I dance with, unseen, forever.

The back of his eyes burned with tears at the thought of her alone for the rest of her life, kept company by nothing more than his memory.

But, he couldn’t imagine dancing with anyone else either.

I love you.

Goodbye.

The tears fell. Bruce hung his head as the finality of that last word sank in.

Then he read the letter again.

And again.

A tiny niggle of…something…struck him every time, like a discordant note in a melody. But he brushed it aside, always in a rush to reach those three words at the end.

Those three words that gave him solace, and made the pain slightly more bearable.

I love you

———

“I owe you an apology.”

Bruce hastily tucked the letter into his pocket and turned to face Lieutenant Gordon. “What for?”

“That pathologist - Beth Carraway. She wasn’t involved with Newsome. We found evidence that she was being held in one of Connell’s labs. She must have been there the whole time…and we missed it. I missed it. I should have listened to you.” Gordon shook his head. “That poor woman. She managed to escape on her own, no thanks to me.” He dragged a hand down his face and looked away, obviously wracked with guilt.

The sight made Bruce feel guilty in turn. He had planted the evidence about Beth. And he knew how a good man like Gordon would react to the information...but he’d done it anyway.

He had to clear Beth’s name somehow.

“How is she?” Bruce asked, aiming for a light, barely-interested tone, hoping his desperation for news of Beth didn’t leak through. He’d forced himself to stay away from her while he waited for his theory to be confirmed, and the distance was killing him.

The irony was not lost on him.

For most of his time with Beth he’d fought against their connection; he’d tried again and again to step back, extract himself from the pull of her gravity. But now that she had broken things off, he yearned to be close to her.

“She’s…” Gordon paused while he tried to find the right words, and Bruce held his breath - a thousand worst case scenarios flooding his mind. “She’s different. Withdrawn. She seems…sad. So sad she damn near broke my heart.”

Bruce’s own heart stuttered at the thought of Beth alone and withdrawn.

He wanted to jump on his bike and race to her, but he had to wait.

If he was wrong…he wasn't sure he could take a third rejection.

He spent a few minutes more with Gordon - getting all the latest on Connell’s upcoming arraignment - before he shook the lieutenant’s hand and left the abandoned rooftop. Gordon had seemed shocked at the gesture, and returned the handshake warily. Bruce had reached out on instinct, not thinking much of it until their hands had met.

It was yet more proof of Beth’s influence over him. How much she’d restored his humanity.

You changed by orbit, and altered my gravity

She’d done the same for him. He was a better man because of her.

Bruce’s burner phone rang as he reached his bike on the street level. Knowing that only Alfred had the number - and that there’d only be one reason for his call - Bruce answered quickly, with an impatient, “Are they back?”

“Yes,” Alfred confirmed. “The lab have been in touch and the results are back.”

“And?”

“And you were right.”

Bruce hung up, a mixture of triumph and hope buzzing through his system. He quickly straddled the bike and kickstarted the engine.

It was finally time to see Beth.

Less than twenty minutes later, he tapped on her living room window.

He should have been assailed by a sense of déjà vu. Here he was - again - dressed as the Bat, crouched on Beth’s fire escape, waiting for her to let him in to her apartment.

But this was nothing like before.

He was a completely different man from the one who used to swing by Beth’s place, desperate for a scrap of attention. The man who deluded himself into thinking there was nothing between them but friendship.

And this situation was completely different.

And it was changing by the second.

He’d come here to plead for answers, to show her his evidence and beg for another chance…

But unexpected anger was building inside of him, fuelled by the hurt he still carried with him from finding that goddam letter.

Its why the first words out of his mouth when Beth finally raised open the window were, “What the hell were you thinking?!”

———

Beth took a step back, startled by Bruce’s vehement words.

She was startled by Bruce in general.

What was he doing here?

It had been thee days since she’d left Wayne Tower, and she hadn’t heard a thing from him. Not that she expected to. Their relationship was well and truly over. They loved and desired each other - the passionate, beautiful kiss they’d shared the night she’d left proved that - but Bruce had chose saving Gotham over her.

The note she’d left made it clear she understood that. And he was no doubt relieved that she’d spared him the awkward, painful conversation that would have ended things between them.

So there was nothing left to say.

There was no reason for him to return to her life.

So she had spent the last few days trying to restart that life. She’d been questioned by the police about her kidnapping and had been cleared of all wrong-doing with Newsome; she’d spoken to her boss at the M.E.’s office about returning to work, and she’d managed to convince her bank and various utility companies to reopen her accounts since ‘the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated’. The fun of misquoting Mark Twain to confused customer service representatives had been the only bright spot of the whole ordeal.

Luckily, those tasks had managed to fill the waking hours of her first two days away from Bruce; they’d kept her busy, and unable to dwell on the ache in her heart.

But today was different.

Today was rough.

There had been too many empty hours with nothing to distract her from her thoughts. Her memories. Nothing to distract her from contemplating the endless stretch of…loneliness…that was her future.

Until a gentle tapping at her window had jolted her from her depressed reverie.

Seeing Bruce’s familiar silhouette on her fire escape had set her heart racing. She’d scrambled out of her chair and fumbled with the locks on her window - too desperate for a glimpse of him to wonder why he might be here.

Or why he was so angry.

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“What?” she asked. He took advantage of her involuntary step back to climb through the window and into her living room.

He wrenched his cowl from his head and ran a gloved hand through his hair, his movements agitated and barely controlled. “I finally get you back after you go missing for almost a week, but then you take off after less than 24 hours? Leaving nothing but this?” He wrenched a folded piece of paper from his pocket and waved it at her. “Do you have any idea how that felt?!”

Eyes locked on the piece of paper - her letter - she answered him in a meek voice.“I- I thought it would be easier-”

“Easier!?” He interrupted, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Easier would have been staying. Easier would have been talking to me. This has not been easy, Beth. It’s been fucking torture.” The note in his hand scrunched and crackled as his fist clenched around it.

“I- I’m sorry,” she whispered, realising that she’d messed up leaving the way that she had. She folded her arms across her chest, feeling the need to shield herself from the pain and anger radiating from him.

The motion exposed the plaster cast encasing her right hand. Catching sight of the injury, Bruce’s demeanour changed from irate to worried in an instant. He dropped the letter and carefully pushed up the sleeve of her cardigan, revealing the stiff blue fabric that covered the end of her forearm and most of her hand. “What happened?” he asked softly.

She pulled away from him and took a seat on the couch behind her - for some reason, dealing with his anger was easier than his gentle concern. But he just followed her down, his long cape draping over her white sofa to spill on the floor at their feet. She avoided his eyes and picked at a loose thread at the edge of the cast. “Turns out I broke my hand when I punched my father in the face. I got it checked at the hospital yesterday and they diagnosed a Boxer’s fracture.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Besides, it was worth it.”

“No, I meant, I’m sorry for yelling at you before. That wasn’t why I came here.”

She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. Now that they were sitting so close, she could see how tired he looked. It made her want to pull him down to rest against her. “So why did you come?”

“Because of this.” He opened one of the pouches on his belt and removed a small glass vial. He held it up between his finger and thumb, and she could see a tiny residue of blue liquid at the bottom. “Dory found this in my bathroom when she was cleaning, along with a syringe. She passed it to Alfred, who staged a mini-intervention; he thought I was doing drugs.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling at the mental image.

Bruce noticed, and smiled in return. “Looking back, it was pretty funny, even though I wasn’t in the mood to laugh at the time.” He studied the small container, as he rolled it between his fingers. “I recognised this as one of the vials from the lab - the vials that you were so desperate to save. So I had the remaining liquid analysed and I got the results back tonight.” He looked at her then. “It acts to cut off your abilities, doesn’t it?”

She nodded.

“And you injected it the other night, before…our kiss.”

Another nod.

“Which means you didn’t hear a goddam thing I was trying to tell you that night.”

She frowned at him. “I heard plenty when you were talking to Alfred downstairs,” she said, a hard edge to her voice.

He winced, then dropped his head into his hands. “I was afraid of that.” He rose to his feet and picked up the discarded letter, reading part of it aloud: “‘But we were not to be. I understand the reasons why.’” He shook his head. “I understand the reasons why,” he repeated. “I kept getting hung up on that one phrase. It sounded as though the reasons for leaving weren’t your own. That they were my reasons. And I couldn’t figure that out…until we found that syringe. Then I figured there must have been a misunderstanding.”

A misunderstanding.

She shook her head. There was no misunderstanding. “I heard you clearly, Bruce. About me being a distraction. Making you weaker. How ‘the sooner I moved out the better’. You want to talk about torture? That was torture.”

He raked his hands through his hair. “If you’d just spoke to me about it that night-”

She jumped to her feet, feeling her own surge of anger. “And what? Should I have begged for you to change your mind?! Dropped to my knees and pleaded with you? I have some self respect, you know!”

“Beth, I didn’t mean what I said! I didn’t mean any of it!”

She shook her head and collapsed back on the couch. He sat on the coffee table in front of her and took hold of her hands. She tried to pull them away, but he held tight. “No, listen to me Beth. I’d just come back from the hospital where George - you remember the kid I told you about? He died that night. And it all just became…too much. I lashed out and said some shit I didn’t mean, because I was scared. Scared of losing you again.”

She stared into his eyes, seeing the pain of loss reflected in those deep blue depths. She didn’t blame him for being scared. He had lived through her death, after all. She’d gotten a glimpse of the desolation he’d felt when he’d breathed for her in the lab.

A mere glimpse.

He had lived that reality for hours.

She couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. It would be heartbreaking for anyone…but for a man who still hadn’t recovered from the trauma of his parents deaths? For a man who had shielded himself against just that type of pain for decades? An experience like that wouldn’t just break his heart, it risked destroying him.

To lose George on top of that? A little boy he felt a connection to? A responsibility for?

No, she couldn’t blame him for being scared.

But she couldn’t guarantee something like that wouldn’t happen again. Life was unpredictable and it could sometimes be cruel. She wanted to face that uncertainty with him, but she was worried that he’d always have one foot out the door, too afraid to fully commit.

She tried to explain that to him. “I get it, Bruce. I get why you might have said what you did. But it feels like every time we get close, you pull away or hurt me. You’re still too scared of this. Of us.”

He gripped her uninjured hand firmer, and leaned closer. She had no choice but to meet his intense gaze. “No. I won’t let that fear rule me, Beth. And I won’t let it ruin this. When I thought you’d died, I realised that I would have gone through all of it - all the pain and uncertainty and fear - all of it a thousand times over, just to have one more day with you. I realised that every possible bad outcome and worst case scenario that might happen in the future would be worth it…if I got to spend my life with you.”

She bit her lip, still wary of believing him. She’d been through so much in the last week, her emotions were all over the place. She wasn’t sure she could trust the hope that was stirring in her soul at his words.

He seemed to notice her reticence. He sat back and removed his gloves and the gauntlets from his arms. He held out a bare hand towards her.

“Take my hand, Beth. Let me prove it to you. See what I tried to show you the other night. See how much I love you. How much I want to make this work between us. I’m all in, Beth - let me prove it to you.”

She raised her hand until it hovered over his palm, a slight tremble visible as she hesitated.

“Please,” he begged softly. “Trust me, Beth. Take my hand.”

———

Bruce held his breath as her hand hovered above his palm…and exhaled when it came to rest against his.

He curled his fingers gently around hers, cradling them as if they were made of glass - when what he really wanted to do was hold tight and never let go.

He’d come so close to losing her - all because of a few misunderstandings. And he was only sitting here now, with her hand in his, because of a sentence in a letter and a small glass vial. If Dory had binned the vial when she found it, or if he’d thrown away the letter after one quick read…this could all be ending so differently.

No.

He wasn’t sure he believed that.

He was meant to be with Beth.

The universe couldn’t keep them apart for long. They would have been pulled back into each other’s orbit soon enough. And not like the binary stars she compared them to, doomed to circle each other from a distance. They were the opposite of that…

…whatever that was.

Two black holes, maybe? Pulling each other closer and closer until they…collided?

Maybe he should leave the cosmic metaphors to her.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Beth said, laughter in her voice.

“Hmm?” Bruce asked, looking up from their hands. Her head was bent close to his, and he could see the humour sparking in her eyes. “You caught that, huh?”

She smiled and nodded.

He gave her a small shrug. “I’m not that good with words.”

“That’s not true. The way you feel about me, in here,” she lifted her injured hand to brush her fingers over his forehead. “And here,” she pressed the same hand against his chest, over his heart. “And what your soul is telling me through this,” she squeezed her other hand around his. “Its pure poetry.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, resting it on their clasped hands. The relief was overwhelming. “So you believe me then? That I want to be with you, no matter what?”

“I believe you.”

He raised his head again, and pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. “And that I love you - completely and with all my heart?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “And I love you too. But…”

He frowned. “But what?”

“But there’s something I need to tell you. And I’m afraid it might change the way you see me.”

----

CHAPTER 22

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oh-my-moomin · 3 years

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NGE: You Deserve Love

This is an analysis based solely on the og NGE anime series and not the movie or rebirth series so I won’t be mentioning those.

NGE is a psychological horror/apocalypse story dressed up as a mecha. This farce is only totally dropped in the last 2, even 3 episodes. This can make the ending jarring and seem in cohesive, but ultimately my understanding is that none of the ‘plot’ really matters. Seele doesn’t matter, where the angels come from doesn’t really matter, and the final battle doesn’t matter. This is a story exploring loss, the need for connection, loneliness, and humanity. We see this through not only the interactions of the human characters but also through the angels.

THE HUMANS

The Children

A defining trait of all the characters is that they are lonely. The isolation from human connection is brought on both by the high stress apocalypse they all live in, as well as the personal demons they face. The characters all attempt to create bonds with other people, but are held back by their insecurities, fear of vulnerability, and past traumas.

Let’s start with Shinji, as the main character. Having lost his mother at a young age, and being abandoned by this father, he was never able to feel secure. Therefore he takes on a people pleaser attitude, constantly apologizing. His want for validation (particularly from adults in his life) causes him to continue to take action that he doesn't want to, including piloting the EVA. His self hate and insecurity makes it hard for him to make and trust his own choices. So he relies on others to guide him. When this fails, when he doesn't get the love and validation he craves he tries to quite entirely. But this often leads to the people he cares about being hurt. He's trapped between a rock and hard place.

Asuka was also abandoned, however rather than craving support like Shinji, she chooses to live for herself. She craves independence. She needs to know that she is no longer a child that can be hurt and vulnerable. This is largely shown through both her overt sexuality, and her piloting the EVA. She must be in control of the EVA, she must have power, she must be able to prove herself as the best, the strongest. Because inside she still feels like that hurt desperate child, and that is what she hates most about herself. Unlike Shinji, Asuka is brash and rude, and she expects others to give her the same. She barks and expects you to bark back, but can’t always handle it.

Both of these characters are constantly looking for connection, with both their peers and adults. While Asuka often pushes herself on to people, out of a need to be seen. Shinji cannot take active moves to make meaningful connections, and will shy away from people trying to connect. Asuka hates herself and needs to prove that others love her. Shinji hates himself and cannot imagine that people love him.

The Adults

One of the running themes in the show is motherhood. Typically it is the mother that is expected to love and care for the child, to raise them, show unconditional love, give unwavering support. None of the characters have had this, Shinji and Asuka search for validation that they lost in adults in different ways. Unfortunately for them, none of the adults present are suitable to be parents.

The show makes a point to show that the adult characters are all more complex than the children. They have lived longer and therefore had more time to make mistakes, to get stuck in toxic ideals, to ‘be problematic’. They are not concretely good or bad people (mostly), but rather the result of people who grew up in a post apocalyptic world, trying desperately to stop the salvage it, while also trying to make their own connections. Like the child characters, their past traumas make it harder for them to be more open, vulnerable, and weak, to form that human connection.

I am going to focus on Misato and Ritsuko, since they act as foils when it comes to human connection.

Misato being left as a lone survivor to a terrible accident has left her scared both physically and mentally. Before this she had issues with her parents, as her father seemed to abandon his family in favour of work, leaving her mother devastated. Misato doesn't want to become like her mother, abandoned by a loved one, and she also doesn't want to be her father, a slave to work. To counter this she looks for easy connections, but she never wants to get too close.

When her relationship with Kaji was beginning to feel too real, she began to find flaws. His resemblance to her father was terrifying, so she broke it off. Similarly, when in scenes with Shinji, talking about his insecurities or his want to give up, she is hidden by shadow. She cannot be seen as weak, she cannot offer comfort, she cannot be a mother figure to Shinji. Other ways her searching for easy connection is her drinking beer, or eating take out. She searches for the most basic ways to fulfill her needs, so that she can focus on her main goal of defeating the angels.

Ritsuko is also desperate to find human connection without vulnerability. By fully closing off the whole world she can have no weakness, something which she resents in Misato. She views herself as above the need for connection in that way, and would rather follow in her mothers foot footsteps as a scientist and a woman.

She loved and admired her mother, and hated her. She wants to follow in her footsteps but also would hate to fail in the same ways. She saw how her mother failed to actually mother her, and chose to completely reject that part of herself. Instead she cares for cats, and uses those as a surrogate to having a child. She continues her mothers work as a scientist, constantly striving to improve. And when it comes to the ‘woman’ that her mother was, she knew a stubborn woman who focused solely on one man. So Ritsuko also focused on him, to the point of giving up her cat to her grandmother. Both women tried to create an easy connection with him, both felt that they were his equal, and that they found the one connection that mattered. When it was proven to them that they were a second (third) woman this caused them both to break down. For Ritsuko this meant that even though she closed off the whole world, except for one man, she was still too vulnerable. And her only response was to completely shut down. Because she had no one else.

All of the characters are constantly searching for this connection, trying to show affection without getting hurt. Trying to make sense of the end of the world while also making sense of interpersonal relationships. Their own inner demons getting in the way of honest connection.

Rei

As a clone Rei is a particular case. She is aware that she is not a ‘person’, she isnt meant for human connection. Her isolation is so ingrained into her, planned before she is even ‘born’ so she feels no need to care for anyone except Ikari. She latches onto him, would do anything for him, and has no value in her life because she is aware that she is not real.

However, she still has a human source, Shinjis mother. A human person, who also needed human connection. Rei, when given the chance, does care for people. Shinji is the first person to see her as a peer, and to treat her with kindness. With this start of forming connections, she begins to feel more human, to develop a further need to connect. Even if it's hard to fully separate from the man who created her.

THE ANGELS

The angels act as a foil to the human need for connection. While all of the human characters are lonely and searching for connection with each other, the angels are also lonely and trying to learn what that even means.

There is no scene where the angels are working together, they are solitary, all having the same goal of reaching Adam, but incapable of planning together to achieve it. They instead try to create connection to humans, trying to bond and understand them, without knowing that their methods are harmful.

I believe this can be first seen with the 12th angel. When Shinji is absorbed into the EVA, it is safe to say that the angel was able to understand the merging of human and EVA. This connection allowed Shinji to control the EVA to break free of the angel's shadow. The following month where Shinji is trapped within his EVA, is our first insight into what the human instrumentality project will be like, as well as the goals of the angels.

Since angels cannot connect to each other, the 15th angel attempts to create connection by forcing itself into Asukas mind. It wants to understand her, her emotions, her thoughts, her connections, her love. For her this is a painful experience, akin to rape. She feels dirtied after it. But the attack is a beam of light, with holy music playing, what should be a calming experience. I believe it is fair to say that the angel cannot understand that it is putting her through pain, as it cannot understand any human experiences. Angels are incapable of understanding their own feelings/experiences/wants, and try to use humans as a study from which they can learn.

The following angel confronts Rei about her loneliness. Instead of breaking into her mind through light, it directly entered her body. While talking with her, it questioned what loneliness was, trying to understand its own pain and isolation through understanding hers. Its solution is to merge with Rei, as it believes this would solve both problems.

However, when she refuses, the angel then tries to find another source of connection. Rei cares about Shinji, as both a clone of his mother, and a friend as her own person. The angel can see that this connection is something that she finds precious and tries to take it for itself, as it cannot understand why Shinji wouldn’t feel the same. It cannot understand how complex human connections are, that it cannot simply take Reis form. However, it has learned what pain is, and how to communicate its own pain. As seen when Shinji attacks it. Whether this pain is physical or emotional doesn't matter, because it is the first pain that the angel could express.

The angels discovering what loneliness is acts as a way for the human pilots to begin to explore their own isolation in more depth. For better or worse.

THE FINAL MESSENGER

Our introduction to the final angel is him singing. He takes a human form, can fully communicate to other humans, and doesn’t immediately attack them. This is such a contrast to all other angels that it isn't immediately clear that he even is an angel. Kaworu's first words are (as per the netflix english subtitles)

“Arent songs great? Songs enrich the heart. They're the crowning achievement of Lilin culture”

He loves humans, human culture, human lives, and the human world. He is the first angel who is able to show this. His ability to understand humans allows him to form human connections, and he does so with Shinji.

Kaworu loved Shinji. He would seek out Shinji, take time to bond and communicate with him, and help Shinji open up. He wanted to be close with Shinji, and knew how to be gentle in ways that no other human or angel could. He was patient, because he had time. And Shinji was able to open up to him more than with any other character. Shinji was able to take the initiative to ask to stay with him, to try and form that connection.

All the human characters are struggling with their own demons, with an apocalyptic world. The whole earth is at war and Shinji is in the front lines, surrounded by adults who may want to help him but ultimately can't. Saving everyone is a higher priority to saving one kid, especially when that kid is your strongest soldier. Throughout the series Shinji is given conditional love. It is only when he pilots the EVA, defeats the angels and saves the day that people give him validation. Then comes this boy, who is gentle and kind, who listens. And it's easy, its comfort, its understanding and unconditional love, and its exactly what Shinji has needed for the whole series.

But as a messenger he could never stay, he's temporary and by the end of the episode he understands this. He still is driven to ‘Adam’, he has a mission, but instead he is confronted with Lilith. Kaworu understands that humans and angels cannot live together in harmony, only one can survive. Both Adam and Litlith were made in god's image, but only Adam could stay in the garden of Eden. Death and Life hold equal value to Kaworu, so he doesn't mind the sacrifice, he would rather die to protect humans, to protect Shinji. He can also understand that this is difficult, this is murder, this is killing a friend. So he says “thank you” and he waits.

In other episodes when in a battle, Shinji is constantly being yelled at, told what to do, under constant pressure. But here there is just the same patient understanding that Kaworu has always shown him. No rush for him to take action, just time to process and grieve. Because Kaworu knows Shinji will make the hard choice and he waits, and he smiles, and he continues to love Shinji.

The final angel came down as a messenger and said

“You are important.

I want to talk to you, to know you.

You are in pain, you are fragile and should be protected.

You are worthy of my affection.

I like you. I love you. I was born just so that I could meet you.

Our kind cannot survive together, one of us must die. And you deserve to live.

I will take this burden of death because you deserve a future.

I am glad I could meet you, thank you.

I know this is hard, and I know you need time. I will wait.

Thank you.”

That was the last message to humanity.

And because Shinji is human he says back

“We are the same. I love you too. If only one of us could have lived it should have been you. You are better than me. You should have survived.”

#nge #neon genesis evangelion #shinji ikari #nge analysis #asuka langley sohryu #misato katsuragi #rei ayanami #ritsuko akagi #gendo ikari #kaworu nagisa

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332 Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly.

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks.

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

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zealous-whispers-of-us-redux · 3 years

Text

a different kind of song

(A/N: no one ever asked for this, but there isn't enough merman!Bucky/reader fics out there, lol. Also, her song is basically "Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood)

Warning- allusions to sexual assault. Do NOT read if that bothers you!

Summary: The sea swallowed her whole, and she was reborn with saltwater on her tongue and webs between her fingers.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She did not remember her life as a human. All she remembered was the war, and the hunger, and the men raiding her village. She remembered the sweat-soaked skin of a warrior snatching her up as she cried out for help. She felt the slide of his body, his blade against her throat. Then when he had finished, she remembered being thrown away into the deepest part of the sea, left to die. But she was blessed by the primordial sea god Phorcys, a child of Artemis, and was allowed to live again. Her new body was formed from misery and blood, and the reward for her suffering was eternal life with the chance to kill as many humans as she wished with no divine interference. The killing of human men, for men were the chosen victims of any siren. Women were not drawn in by their song, and if, by chance, a woman stumbled across a siren, that siren would leave her alone.

Slowly, she began to forget the trappings of humanity, the sound of her mother's voice, and the taste of human food. She aged with the world, hidden deep beneath the waves. Countless men fell prey to her beautiful song, and she learned how to kill quickly. She grew to love the taste of flesh, the sound of someone drowning. She forgot what it was like to be lonely.

Now, she only knew starvation.

An all-encompassing hunger clawing at her belly made her whine with pain. Humans had avoided this part of the sea for a few years, and she last ate three months ago. She'd had to survive solely on fish, which, while technically food, were not filling nor even tasty. She was beginning to hate fish.

There were no boats; she checked three times in the past hour. It was dangerous for her to be so close to the surface because the air outside was toxic. There was also a very likely chance that she would be spotted by anyone who could harm her. But she was so hungry that she forgot herself. She floated just beneath the surface and sang, letting her voice ring out through the water, enticing any man into approaching. The setting sun shined down on the outcrop of rocks above her.

And there! A flash of something!

She sang louder, opening her eyes underwater. There was a man with darker hair than she had ever seen lying on a gigantic rock. He was acceptable, she guessed. She barely knew what that meant.

He had yet to notice her, dumb as he was. She could see her song was affecting him as his eyes started to close, and his hand inched unconsciously closer to the water. His finger just barely skimmed the surface before she lunged, yanking him into the sea with her. He began to fight back as she dragged him down to the sandy bottom. Thrashing against her hold, he scrabbled to gain purchase on her body, but to no avail. Her skin was as hard as stony coral and difficult to cut. She sang her trumph, mocking him as she brought him up to break the surface, only to bring him right back down.

But this man had a tail, and she did not realize it until it hit her in the face. She squawked in surprise, her song cutting off. The merman twisted out of her slackened grip. She snarled, baring her teeth as she swam at him. Sirens were stronger than mer, especially in deeper waters, so it did not take much to grab him again. They wrestled, flipping over each other. She sliced his side with one of her nails; his tail knocked the wind out of her. He pulled her lure too hard, and she made a pained sound, biting at his hand. He cried out as she ate clean through one of his webs. Blood leaked into the water, making her ravenous.

"This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible," she began, "The song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons, even though they see the beached skulls!"

The merman ceased struggling. He stared at her, his eyes growing vast and dreamy. She grinned toothily. She had only had mer meat once before. It was harder to draw in mermen than human men, so because of that, she was only able to entice a single merman. But that was years ago, and he wasn't nearly as delicious to look at as this mer.

She dropped the tone of her voice to a seductive curl. "This is the song that nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and others can't remember. Shall I tell you a secret? And if I promise to, will you come nearer? I will tell my secret to you, to you, only to you. Come closer, closer to me."

She lifted her finger, tempting him to come over so that she could take a bite. The merman swam closer until their chests were pressed together. He said something in a language that she had never heard before.

"This song is a cry for help, my dear. Help me! Only you, only you can, for you are unique!" she cried sadly.

His tail curled around hers, and she frightened at the gentle touch broken out of her song. She spat and gnashed her teeth, but still, his tail stayed where it was. He opened his mouth and said something, but she still could not understand. She went to bite his nose off, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers so plainly that she stilled. She was not sure what was happening. She was not sure what she was supposed to be doing. She floated there, letting him mash his mouth against hers. His mouth tasted bizarre.

Finally, the merman stopped. He pulled away only minutely, still looking spellbound. Strange. Her song had ended. Why did he continue to look at her like that? He reached out and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His own were darting back and forth across her face, searching for something. He spoke more things that she didn't understand.

"Uhh-h- hello," the merman said in a language she could understand. "Hi."

"Why were you crushing your mouth onto mine?" she asked.

"What, never heard of kissin' before?"

His smile was much too pleasant. That was unacceptable. Food was never supposed to look nice. She wanted to claw the smile right off of his face.

"Kissing?"

"Yeah, touchin' lips. Usually done as a sign of love or, you know, desire."

"Desire?"

"Sweet Thetis, you're fuckin' gorgeous," said the merman, ignoring her confusion.

His hand shot out to touch her lure, but he thought better of it and withdrew.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

His smile grew bigger, how funny: "Beautiful. Pretty."

"Pretty? What's that?"

"You know, like when you find a shiny thing, an' you wanna keep it forever?"

"I do not know," she grumbled (How dare this mer make her feel unintelligent!). "I have never had shiny things."

"Never had… Hold on, my pretty one."

Mystified, she waited just as he'd asked as he ruffled through a pouch that she had not noticed before. She had never seen anything like it and wondered where she could acquire one. Of course, she never had a reason to have a bag since she had no use for possessions. Perhaps it could hold weapons! Or bones to snack on!

"Ah-ha!" the merman said, thrusting something in her direction.

She stared at the thing in his hand.

"Looks even prettier underneath your lights," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"What is it?" she replied, her hand darting out nervously to touch it.

She pulled back almost instantly, but the merman grabbed her wrist.

"It's called gold," he explained, tipping it into her hands. "The humans use it to get other shiny things. D'you like it?"

"I am not sure. I do not know what I like."

"You can keep it."

"What kind of trickery is this?"

"No tricks. As I said, you're beautiful, and beautiful things should have beautiful things."

"No tricks, certainly, but what do you want in exchange?"

For the first time tonight, he looked sheepish. She noticed that his stomach was turning pink, but for what reason, she was unsure. She wondered what he was trying to work up the nerve to say.

"Well, er, matin' season is comin' up," he began.

"Not yet."

"Right, it isn't for a few months yet, but I was taught to woo the mer, er, the creature that I choose with shiny things. It's my first matin' season, you see."

"Mhm."

"An' the wooin' part takes a while. An' then there's the courtin' stage, which takes even longer."

"If you need a mate, there are mer all around this area during this time."

"Well- heh." The merman rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'd like it to be you."

"Why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Ah."

"I have more shiny things if you want 'em," the mer said, reaching for his pouch.

She shrugged. "I have no use for them."

"You don't gotta have a use for 'em. Where's your home cave? I can bring 'em there."

"I do not have a home cave," she said.

"Oh, right, where is your family's cave, then?"

"I have no family."

"No family? You mean, you're out here all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"What is lonely?" she asked.

"Sad, because you have no one with ya."

"What is sad?"

"Whaddya mean, 'what is sad?' It's sad! Don't you know what that is?" the merman twisted his face up like he was in distress, though what kind she was not sure.

"I only know hunger," she told him.

His eyes lost some of their shine. "Oh, yeah, right. How long's it been since you ate properly anyway? You don't look so good."

"I have not caught a human in months."

"D'you need help huntin'?"

"Can you ensnare a human with your singing?"

"No, but I know some good spots for fish."

"I am not in the mood for fish," she said.

"You just haven't found the right kind," the merman replied, closing his left eye.

He turned tail, swimming away from her before glancing back to see if she would follow him. The hunger in her belly was making her act quite strange in that she was willing to go along with this merman. She felt, oh, what's the word, she knew this, like mer, she was curious. She decided to follow him, keeping a bit of distance between them until the merman flipped around in an impressive display of tailfins and long dark hair, and decided they would swim side by side. His hand kept brushing hers, trying to grab onto her fingers for some reason. She tugged away, unsure of what he was trying to do. She still had not yet decided if she wanted to mate with him anyway. Sirens did not mate in the same way that mer did, that much she knew. They called it breeding, and it was over in a frenzy of teeth and claws. There were no gifts of shiny things or "kisses."

"What's yer name?" the merman asked.

The question stunned her. She could not remember her name before the sea took her in, and she had no use for a name now. No one else called to her. Her name was simply another memory, another casualty to add to her list.

"I do not know," she said.

"You know what a name is, right? Like, I'm Bucky, for example."

Her fingers drifted up to her lips, searching for her name. If she remembered the shape of her mouth as she spoke it aloud, perhaps she could remember the correct sounds. She thought back as far as she could, to the feeling of water filling her lungs, to the sounds of screams, to the smell of a fire burning down her village, to her blood staining her tongue. She wanted to remember her name. She had not even realized this was something she had lost until she needed it.

Then there was a flash of memory, jagged and cutting. Her heart began to race. In her mind, she heard it. Her mother had been crying. Her mother had been screaming at the men to stop. Her mother had been shrieking to let go of her, let go of my daughter. Her mother yelling at her to be brave, hold her breath, be strong, my love, my dear. Her mother. She remembered her mother.

Her lips parted, and she whispered the name into the water. The merman, Bucky, repeated it.

"Again," she said.

He did, and oh, she felt something new, something besides hunger. A hole opened in her chest. Her lower lip wobbled, and then she was singing a new song, never before heard from a siren. It echoed around her and Bucky, reaching out to the farthest depths of the sea. It was filled with desperation, isolation, and salvation, but it was hope and home too.

"Is this what sad is?" she asked Bucky once her song was over.

"Yeah, it is," he answered, curling his tail around hers.

When he went to wrap her up in his arms, she let him, falling into his embrace.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mermaid au #angst #fluff #merman!bucky #siren!reader

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ms-m-astrologer · 3 years

Text

Transiting Saturn enters pre-retrograde shadow

Timeline (current events in bold)

Sunday, February 27, 2022, 04:04 UT - transiting Saturn enters pre-retrograde shadow, 18:35 Aquarius

Saturday, June 4, 21:47 UT - transiting Saturn stations retrograde, 25:15 Aquarius

Sunday, October 22, 04:07 UT - transiting Saturn stations direct, and enters post-retrograde shadow, 18:35 Aquarius

Thursday, January 26, 2023, 22:01 UT - transiting Saturn exits post-retrograde shadow, 25:15 Aquarius

(When I type “18:35 Aquarius it means that I did not want the bother and tedium of typing out “18 degrees 35 minutes Aquarius” over and over again. Would you?)

I really feel like somebody else should be writing this one up. This particular Saturn Rx Zone is going to affect me very strongly, but mostly with flowing aspects: a trine to my natal Sun, a sextile to my natal Moon, a trine to my natal Jupiter, a sextile to my natal Saturn, a conjunction to my natal Chiron, an opposition to my natal MC, and a conjunction to my natal IC. I've never had anything quite like it before now - and in a sense I am hugely relieved that I'm having all this intensity for the first time, whilst navigating being in my 60s - I feel like I'm old enough to do this, and do it well.

Anyway. For the past six weeks (exactly) we have had a fairly straightforward Saturn experience, with Old Grandpa making a series of "one and done" aspects to placements between 13:31 and 18:35. Kind of like praying that the teacher doesn't notice you, and s/he looks sternly at you but doesn't actually call on you - we've all been there.

Now, though, we have arrived at the "heavy lifting" portion of our program. Saturn will spend the next 11 months, to the day, between 18:35 and 25:15 Aquarius. This is the part where we learn about what hard, lonely work faces us. Because those are two of Saturn's main deals: working hard, and ably dealing with solitude.

In The Book of Air, Steven Forrest writes of a Saturn/Aquarius transit that we "need to reconsider any promises that (we) have made and any responsibilities that (we) have taken on - many of them no longer suit what (we are) becoming, and instead only serve to bind (us) to the past." He suggests that the work we need to do involves in accepting and owning that, "in the end, my sense of my own dignity depends only upon two questions: that I know my own values and standards, and that I lived up to them. The moral approval or disapproval which others might afford me is irrelevant."

For some of us, maybe this transit is all about using the internet (Aquarius) responsibly (Saturn) - I am thinking in particular of the penultimate paragraph to this post: "Never have the leaders of two of the three most powerful nuclear nations — Putin and Xi — had more unchecked power and never have more people from one end of the world to the other been wired together with fewer and fewer buffers." (Emphasis mine.)

Others of us (and I think I'm in this category) need to "let our freak flags fly," as the hippies used to say. It literally meant growing your hair long, but we need to take that a step further and do more than just display the trappings of rebellion.

However it works out, we need to remember the words of astrologer Rick Levine: "Saturn in Aquarius globally tests our ability to maintain our individuality while still being in an integral relationship to the larger community." Remember also that this first pass, between now and June 4, is “simply” making us aware of situations and problems. The labor-intensive part happens during the middle, retrograde part.

Placements between 18:35-25:15 Aquarius have been feeling that impetus for over a year now. Remember that transiting conjunctions are like "invasion of the body snatchers" in that the transiting planet "takes over" and usurps the natal placement's usual modus operandi. Channel your inner grandparent and grow up a little.

Placements between 18:35-25:15 Taurus, Leo, and Scorpio receive challenging aspects from this transit. We need to get over our need to be comfortable, and/or to play around, and/or to hang on to old grievances.

Placements between 18:35-25:15 of Aries, Gemini, Libra, and Sagittarius receive flowing aspects from this transit. You have to make the effort to take advantage of them, though, and not just wait for the blessings to fall into your lap.

Placements between 18:35-25:15 of Cancer and Virgo will undergo some adjustments during this transit. They may be health-related; they may have more to do with not clinging to the past.

Placements between between 18:35-25:15 of Capricorn and Pisces may wonder what all the to-do is about. There will be sort of gentle unconscious, occasionally uncomfortable nudges, but not really much to work with. Meditate!

#Astrology #Transiting Saturn enters pre-retrograde shadow #Ms M astrologer

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jeminy3 · 4 years

Photo

old archie x maxie (hardenshipping) doodles i never posted, from 2017 or 2018. they were related to some of the doodles in this post.

I have a lot of unpublished drawings of these guys, and i never did elaborate on my headcanons for them. The truth is, I was (and still kinda am) very anxious and embarrassed about this fixation, probably because it centers around villains and “woobifies” them, but also because after playing and researching more into ORAS, i discovered that my personal canon was contradicted by actual canon and i felt invalidated.

For the sake of posterity, I’ll summarize my old headcanons below. (It’s still pretty long, ugh)

A grunt in Team Magma’s hideout says that Archie and Maxie “used to be on the same team.” In canon, this probably implies that they worked together on New Mauville, Sea Mauville, or another unnamed project, depending on how old they are and how long ago those projects started and ended.

However, like many other fans, I thought this meant they used to be in Team Rocket together, and I elaborated an entire backstory based on that:

+ Maxie and Archie were part of a group of Rocket recruits attempting to start a branch of Team Rocket in the Hoenn Region. The project failed because soon after they arrived, Giovanni was defeated in Kanto and officially dissolved Team Rocket, causing a schism to form within the Hoenn team over whether to give up the project or not. This eventually lead to the team splintering into two factions, one lead by Maxie and the other lead by Archie, which eventually grew and rebranded themselves into Team Magma and Team Aqua.

-Maxie and Archie met and connected enough to start dating, though they were emotionally dysfunctional. As problems arose and the Team began to splinter, their relationship also broke down and their separation was very messy.

Maxie clung to the ambition of staying in Hoenn and building up the Team as a paragon of human industry, pushing away Archie and anyone else he deemed as “not useful.”

Archie also wanted to make the Team work, but not in the way Maxie and his side wanted, at the expense of nature. Archie felt hurt and betrayed as Maxie pushed him away and disagreed with him, making him contradict and lash out at Maxie even more.

This all culminated in a huge fight between Archie and Maxie and their respective sides, involving both Pokemon battling and actual fist-fighting. Local authorities were called in, causing the teams to scatter, but not before Archie and Maxie promised to face each other again, reforging themselves as bitter rivals.

-- Maxie

+ Maxie is (the pokemon equivalent of) German/Japanese, and was born on Cinnabar Island. His birth name was Maximillian Matsubasa Von Brandt, but he prefers simply “Maxie”. He IDs as bigender, asexual and demi-homoromantic.

His father is a Kanto businessman named Masaru Matsubasa. His mother is from somewhere in or near Kalos, named Melissa Von Brandt. They were both wealthy and successful business people who frequently left on business trips, Masaru travelling between Kanto and Johto and Melissa to her home country.

Maxie was often left alone or with a nanny at home. He was well-provided for and self-sufficient, but he was lonely and emotionally stunted. He had a passion for geology and engineering, and showed interest in contributing to helping Cinnabar’s local issues, which were often tense because of the limited land space. Homelessness and unemployment were high, and development plans to alleviate these were stymied by parties who lobbied for the preservation of the local Pokemon wildlife by any means.

Maxie’s parents were skeptical of his choice in career but still supported him, if only half-heartedly. This lead Maxie to study Cinnabar’s volcano, which he found to be very much active and possibly dangerous. He developed a plan to build in and around the volcano in such a way that it would utilize extra space inside the mountain for housing/businesses and its magma for natural energy to power the city, possibly circumventing its eventual eruption.

He presented this plan to Cinnabar’s city council, but was practically laughed out of the meeting for such an ambitious and dangerous idea, especially by the wildlife parties. This damaged his reputation and caused him to be fired/demoted from his job. His parents reprimanded him, regretting their decision to support him.

Lost and disgusted with his life, Maxie found recruitment with Team Rocket and left Cinnabar to join their efforts on the mainland. When he presented his research to their higher-ups, they were impressed enough to pass it along to Giovanni himself, and Maxie ended up contributing to the construction of some of their underground lairs, like in Celadon City.

This also made him a prime candidate for the Rocket Hoenn project as a lead engineer and scientist, and he joined the project with high hopes.

+ His interest in Pokemon was soured by his past and usually only extends are far as his ambitions, which means he views Pokemon only as things that can be useful to whatever projects he’s working on, otherwise they are a nuisance. After becoming the leader of Team Magma and having to train a personal team to defend himself with, he warms up to Pokemon a bit more.

+ Maxie plays up his confidence and genius, but does have moments of crippling self-doubt and anxiety. Deep down, he’s socially awkward and has trouble expressing his feelings, tending to bottle things up until they spill out in moments of anger.

+ Maxie used to be a semi-heavy smoker in his youth to cope with his anxiety. After becoming the leader of Team Magma, his health was suffering and his grunts were visibly uncomfortable around him, so for the sake of his own health and that of his team, he quit, with help and advice from Courtney and Tabitha.

+ Maxie hates his parents and hasn’t contacted them since he left Cinnabar, which was over ten years ago by the end of ORAS events. He avoids them to the point that he uses a forged identity in Hoenn, named “Maxie Stormfront.” ‘Stormfront’ is a reference from one of his favorite metal bands, the Doom Hounds, because he is a nerd.

+ Years later, Cinnabar’s volcano did erupt and destroy the town, displacing its human population. Maxie has mixed feelings about this – he’s not sure if it’s righteous karma for the City Council rejecting his plans, or a sign that his old plans were doomed to failure and he was better off leaving Cinnabar after all.

-- Archie

+ Archie is (the pokemon equivalent of) Black/Hispanic and a Hoenn native. His birth name is Archibald Rodriguez. He IDs as a cis man (or trans?), pansexual and panromantic.

He was born to his father, Alexander Rodriguez and his mother, Alicia Fuentes (Rodriguez after marriage) in a small fishing town on one of Hoenn’s coasts, with its fishery being its only major industry. Most of its residents are middle-class or poor, and few members pursue an education after high school, usually joining the local fishing industry.

In his youth, Archie didn’t care much for school or work, preferring to spend his days playing with the local water Pokemon and his friends, Matt and Shelly. However, this exposed him to the effects that overfishing and pollution had on the local wildlife, and he eventually grew to want to pursue a career as a Veterinarian, specifically for water pokemon.

His parents didn’t believe he would be successful and his town had few resources to help him. The most he could do was research at the local library and a then-primitive internet.

Worse, his town was outright apathetic to the damage their industry was causing to the local wildlife because they depended on its capital to survive.

+A possible traumatic memory involves a young Archie nursing a sick Magikarp back to health for weeks, only to later discover it trapped in the nets of the fishery his father worked at, doomed to become food/products. When he attempted to cut the nets and save the Magikarp, his father restrained him and reprimanded him, claiming “it’s just a fish, boy! They’re all just stupid fish!”

Eventually, Archie was a depressed drifter in his 20s, unable to hold onto work and unable to afford to leave to a larger city. He often fought with his abrasive father and his mother was coddling, but unsupportive. This made Archie a prime candidate for Team Rocket recruiters as they arrived on Hoenn, promising a way out of his backwater town, decent pay, and a career where he’d be appreciated and be able to work with Pokemon to change the world. He joined as a lowly Grunt, but was talented and well-respected within the Team.

-Archie has limited contact with his parents since he left home, only calling them once a year or so.

-Archie doesn’t like being referred to as his full name, it feels pretentious and brings back uncomfortable memories of his family.

+I used to headcanon Archie and Matt as biological brothers because of the “bro” thing, but I’m not sure about keeping that. If so, Matt’s name would be short for Matthias Rodriguez, because their parents liked pretentious names.

-Like some of his dialog implies, Archie is kind of depressed, pessimistic and cynical deep down, but hides it behind his boisterous, reckless attitude. At his worst, he’s downright bitter, uncaring of his own life or the lives of humanity in general, in favor of Pokemon.

#hardenshipping #aqua leader archie #magma leader maxie #rocket hardenshipping #pokemon oras #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes #long post #headcanons

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spices-and-cherries · 4 years

Text

Don’t make me wait (James Bond x Reader)

This was a request by the lovely @iamcavainna! I’m so sorry it took so long, but life was being a bit rough. I also wanted to at least try and make this good, so I thought that it would be better if I took some time with it... There is a fluffy ending!

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warnings: drinking wine, a gun, angst, anxiety, mentions of potential accidents that could happen in a snowy mountain

It’s not uncommon for your partner, James Bond, to be traveling abroad for weeks on end. While it can get lonely, he does try to call regularly from whichever hotel he’s staying in. After a while, you became used to it. Why? Late or not, he always kept his promise:

I’ll be back.

The last time he had called, he had said that he wouldn’t be able to contact you for a week at most due to a strenuous business conference at a ski resort in the Alps. Seeing as this was normal routine for him, you thought nothing of it and just reminded him not to accidentally hurt himself (yet again).

But today, you’re worried. In fact, you’ve been worried for five days straight. It’s been over a week - eleven days to be exact - and now you feel as though something is off.

Had he flown off the side of a cliff? Did he get lost? Was he trapped under an avalanche of snow?

James had given you an address to go to in case of emergency, but would this be the right time to use it? How can you be sure that you’re just not being paranoid? And if you did go, what would you say? James has never taken you to his place of work and barely talks about his colleagues, so who would you even be speaking to?

Hundreds of panicked questions circle your mind as you pace around your living space, phone in one hand and address in the other. You had barely slept the night before and hadn’t eaten all day.

You missed James. He’s been gone for almost a month now and no number of phone calls could replace the feeling of his warmth on his side of the bed. His laugh, his miserable cooking, his rough hands... You needed all of that and more back at home next to you. So you had to go.

You check the time. It’s just before four o’clock. If you hurry, you just might catch someone on their way out.

---

Without a second thought, you slip on your coat and hurry to the closest bus stop. The trip there was a bit of a haze, between the times you were navigating and transferring. The haze dissipates pretty quickly as you walk up to what was supposed to be some office building and not a glamourous apartment complex with a Rolls Royce being unloaded in front of the main entrance.

You have to double and triple check the address written down and your GPS on your phone. It seemed to be the right place...

Tentatively, you walk into the lobby, feeling very out of place and small. The floor looks like it all marble and there’s a little fountain in the middle of the space.

Anxious, you manage to sign yourself in at the front desk. There were some complications due to your ID, but after a quick phone call, it was sorted out and you were free to go up. You speed-walk to the elevators, feeling like someone was watching you. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone but the uptight attendant you had just spoken to making another call. The elevator doors open and you walk in.

As you get closer and closer to your destination, you feel more anxious and your palms start to sweat. You furiously try and dry them as the doors open into what looked to be someone’s home.

And that someone was straight in front of you.

“Who are you?” She was an older woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a fitted pantsuit.

“Uh...” You hear the elevator doors close behind you. There’s no escaping now.

“Well? I don’t have all day, you know.”

“My name is (Y/) (L/N)... I think my husband works for you.” One of her eyebrows raised. “Uh, he said that in case of emergency that I come here...” You pull out the piece of paper and she takes it. “I don’t really have anything urgent, but he’s unusually late in checking in and I-”

“Good lord.” She muttered furiously after scanning the note and crushes it.

“Pardon?” You ask, somewhat alarmed by the unexpected response.

“Please, have a seat.” She waves to a chair and you comply.

“Do you know-”

“Your husband? Yes. He’s one of my men.”

“Men?”

“...Well I can see that that fool did follow my order for once, not that it makes much difference...”

“I’m not sure I understand...”

“Normally, you wouldn’t have to.” She sits down across from you. “What is it that Bond told you about his job?”

“...Well, he’s one of those people who are the intermediaries between large company deals...?”

“Close. In reality, he’s the exact opposite.”

“I don’t-”

“Bond is an agent trained in the art of infiltration in order to stop certain kinds of ...businesses from expanding more than they already have. In short, your... husband... is an international spy.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“But that is not the issue here.” She stares at you with eagle eyes. “The issue is this address. Did Bond give it to you?”

“Yes!” You squeak - to say you’re terrified would be an understatement. “He said to come here in case of an emergency while he wasn’t home.”

“And the emergency is?”

“It’s been over a week since he last called. He promised that he would contact me once the week ended. He’s five days late. He’s never late for that long!”

“Right.” She rests her head in the palm of her hand as if she were dealing with some trivial issue. “Has anyone seen this address or followed you here?”

“No one has seen it and I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so or you don’t know?” She snaps, but her face softens after seeing the look on your face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you - do you know where James is?”

"...We know just as much as yourself. It seems the only thing that man is good for is causing me trouble.” She was standing up again and pacing.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I have this awful feeling that something happened!”

“I am afraid not. We are already doing all we can.” She sighs. “...Did he tell you anything last time he contacted you?”

“He said he was going to a ski resort with a client in the Alps...”

“Nothing else?”

“Not that I can remember.” She takes a good look at you, then turns away.

“We were told the same. Any longer and we’ll may have to consider him MIA.”

“MIA?” You feel slightly faint. “Is - is he in danger?”

“If he wasn’t he wouldn’t be doing his job.” You slump back into your seat, unsure of how to take all this information in. Not only has your husband lied to you about his profession, but that profession is putting him in danger!

“Is there anything you can tell me?” You start fiddling with your hands. “I don’t think I caught your name...”

“That would be because I didn’t tell it to you. You may call me M.”

“Right.” You nod awkwardly. “Seeing as all this is top secret and I’m-”

“A civilian.”

“...What’s going to happen to me?”

“That would be for upper management to decide. Though it shouldn’t be anything too harmful. Bond was the one who brought you into this, after all.”

“Will he be fired?” Alarm rushes through you at the thought.

“Oh no,” M looks at you with surprise. “James has done much worse than this. They’ll just give him a light spanking and send him off. He’s too good to be let go of.” She looks at you with a penetrating gaze. “Too damn good.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” You smile awkwardly. “In all honesty, this whole situation is a bit much for me.”

“I can imagine.”

“Does this happen with James often?”

“Missing a check-in or finding out about secret marriages?”

“Missing check-ins?”

“Yes, yes it does. Although it seems as though he contacts you more than us. It’s been two weeks since he last called in. It does seem like he’s taking longer than usual...”

---

Out of supposed security concerns, M told you to stay with her until James comes back. As a compromise, she sent some people to keep surveillance in your neighborhood and on your flat. Of course, this meant a couple of days (or more) living with this mysterious woman. M never talked unless necessary and most certainly did not bring her work home. While she trusts you enough in her home, she cannot afford anything leaking out, no matter how harmless.

That being said, she did try to update you on any word (or lack thereof) from your husband. The more time past, the more anxious you became. You could no longer sleep and M would find you in your room just staring at the ceiling. You had confided in her just once about how much you were missing him when you had one too many glasses of wine. Despite your loneliness, you really did try and keep strong. If the two of you were eating together, you’d ask her questions about your husband’s job. M couldn’t answer more than half of them, but did try to help shed some light on this new side of James.

She couldn’t go into a lot of details, both due to how classified it all was, but because she thought that James should be the one to explain everything.

On the third day, M had informed you that James had sent a message. It was short and didn’t disclose his whereabouts, but you were so relieved that your knees just about gave out from underneath you.

He was safe.

He was safe and that was all that mattered to you. Several more days would pass before you’d be reunited.

---

It was the dead of night and, like usual, you couldn’t sleep. M wasn’t home - she said that she would be late - so you had eaten by yourself. While her suite is beautiful, you can’t help but wish that you were home in your little flat. You used to be annoyed about how much the building settled or your neighbors snoring during the night. Now, the lack of noise unsettles you. However, every noise you do happen to hear makes the hairs on your arms stick up.

Especially when you hear the elevator open awfully early in the night.

Somehow, you knew that it wasn’t M. Maybe it was because you didn’t hear her toss her handbag on one of the chairs or that her usual heels didn’t sound like they should. Either way, you had to make sure that everything was okay. You quietly get out of the bed and grab an empty wine bottle.

Carefully, you slowly twist the doorknob to ease the door open by just a crack. You can just make out a figure that was much bigger than M shuffling around her desk. Unsure of what to do and not wanting to blow your cover immediately, you stay right where you are. He - for it was most definitely a man - straightened himself out and proceeded to make himself comfortable in one her chairs with his back towards you.

Why would a burglar make himself at home?

As he begins to pour himself a glass, you gently open the door wide enough that you could slip through it. You bless your lucky starts that it doesn’t squeak.

One, two, three, four steps forward when suddenly two unexpected things happen at the same time.

The man had gotten up, spun around and pointed a gun at your head.

The elevator doors open to reveal M.

“Good heavens! What is happening?” You watch M hurry in, throwing her bag on a chair. “Bond! Put the gun down!” Your head snaps back around. The look of surprise and alarm was reflected in your husband’s bright blue eyes. You drop the bottle and it shatters. His gun was swiftly tossed aside.

“James.” You choke back a sob as you run into his arms. He hugs back just as fiercely.

“(Y/N).” He softly tucks your head into his shoulder and seems to relax in your arms.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

“While this is awfully touching, you have a lot of explaining to do, Bond.” James lifts his head when he hears M say his name.

“Ah. Yes. I forgot you were here.” You didn’t need to see M’s face to know the look of annoyance she was most likely sporting.

“Just sit down.” M snaps, but you can tell that it’s half-hearted. James lets go of you, but grabs your hand as he sinks down into the couch. You curl up on his side, his hand still in yours.

You would never know what it was that the two talked about after that because you had fallen asleep as soon as your head settled on his shoulder.

When you woke up, it was bright out and you were on the couch. Your pillow shifts, making you do a double take. Your pillow was in fact an arm. You shift to your other side and find yourself face to face with your husband’s sleeping face. Gently, you caress his face then plant a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s hardly what I would call a good afternoon kiss.” James smirks, suddenly wide awake.

“Afternoon?”

“It’s just after one.” He gently pulls you closer to him. “Now, don’t make me wait more than I already have...”

“That makes two of us, doesn’t it-” You kiss him squarely on the mouth then pull back - much to his obvious displeasure. “-Mr. Secret Agent?”

Needless to say, the two of you would take the time to talk things out and bring everything (that’s not classified information) into the light.

I tried really hard with this one, so I hope you all enjoyed it! I kinda feel like the start and the end were rushed... I plan on doing some Jake Lonergan headcanons this week, so that will be fun. Please feel free to send me ideas or requests! It might take a while for me to finish it, but I’ll try my best!

- Simpy

#james bond x reader #james bond #x reader #daniel craig #007 #M #established couple #married couple #top secret #minor angst #fluff #request #angst to fluff #kisses #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #ian fleming #everyone is welcome

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skzsauce01 · 4 years

Text

Ruin My Life

Synopsis: Six times you and Minho “ruin” each other’s lives, and the one time you almost actually did ruin his.

Warning: none

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: fem!reader x Lee Minho; friends to lovers

one

Minho always looks like trouble, but he especially looks the part when he dresses as a greaser for Halloween. The entire hallway looks his way when he enters the building even though the low 7:30 AM sunlight blinds their eyes when he opens the door. He has a lollipop in his mouth in place of a cigarette, and when he gives a curt “Good morning” nod in your direction, the girl beside you pretends to swoon.

“Hello, Danny,” she mutters to herself, mimicking an Australian twang. She’s conveniently dressed like Sandy in a poodle skirt and cardigan. “I’d let you ruin my life.”

When you tell Minho about what you heard after school, he laughs so hard he almost falls off the wall he’s sitting on. “Seriously?”

You take a bag of pretzels from the shared pile of treats between you two and rip it open. “Yes! I can give you her name if you’re interested,” you say, half-hoping that he doesn’t actually want it. “What a weird thing to say though.”

He shakes his head and holds his hand out for a pretzel. “No thanks to the name. I think Chan’s supposed to be Danny, so I’m not her summer fling that don’t mean a thing.” He waits for you to drop three in his open palm and, with complete mockery, says, “But I’d let you ruin my life.”

You shoot him a disgusted look, and he laughs.

“Aren’t you glad I made you watch Grease?” you transition. “So who are you? A T-bird? Someone from The Outsiders? Just a generic greaser?”

“Generic greaser, I guess. What are you?”

You point at the pointy, black hat perched on your head and say in disbelief, “I’m a witch!”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know you have just walked into a trap. “No, I meant your Halloween costume.”

“Get bent, you jerk,” you roll your eyes.

However, the pretzel you throw at him doesn’t stop him from chortling at his own joke.

two

You agree to feed Minho’s three cats the following weekend while he and his family have a last-minute emergency out of town. You show up to his doorstep on a late Thursday afternoon to say your regards, but everyone in the Lee household is in pandemonium. You slink past his mother to Minho’s room where Soonie and Dori are lying on his bed. Minho himself is packing a duffel bag.

You knock on his already open door to alert him of your presence. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, looking up. “Sorry about this. I would have asked someone who lived closer, but my mom doesn’t trust anyone else with the house key.”

“It’s okay. I like playing with Dori.” You’re still standing at the threshold, feeling too shy to enter now that you’re both older, and you crane your neck to see farther inside. “Where’s Doongie?”

“Under the desk. You can come in.”

“Right.”

You settle into his desk chair and pick up Doongie to pet. There’s nothing else to do, and you scan his walls for something to look at. Your eyes land on his calendar where there are reminders for the biology exam next week and the dance competition at the end of the month. You want to ask if everything’s alright, but it feels insensitive to pry.

“My mom made you dinner,” he says. “To thank you. It’s on the dining table.”

You smile as you remember all the times you stayed over for dinner at Minho’s when you were younger. His mom made the best japchae. “Tell her thanks for me.”

“Will do.”

“Minho!” you hear his mom shout. “We’re leaving!”

Minho heaves his bag over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. “Thanks for doing this. My offer of letting you ruin my life still stands, by the way.”

You snort at the comment, which makes Doongie jump off your lap, which makes you and Minho burst into laughter. “Yeah, well, what are best friends for? I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah. Key’s on the coffee table, by the way. And you know where the cat food is right?”

“I got it. I’ll be the best cat sitter ever.” You stand up and give him a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay, Minho.”

He holds you a little longer, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s surprisingly erratic, and yours begins to match in tempo.

“Thanks,” he repeats, finally pulling away.

You stand awkwardly at the foot of his bed and give him another smile as he starts to leave.

His foot has just stepped into the hallway when his mom yells again, “Lee Minho!”

“Coming!” he shouts back. He turns back to you, like he wants to say one more thing. “Don’t forget to eat or else she’ll think I didn’t tell you and get mad. And send me pictures of the cats!”

He disappears before you can even nod, and you hear the front door swing shut. You sit back down and idly spin in his chair, enjoying its cushiness. You’re not hungry yet, so you reach for Dori, who eagerly snuggles into your arms, and snap a picture to send to Minho.

Dori loves me more. Consider your life ruined.

three

The day before the biology exam you’re back at Minho’s house. Two open textbooks and an array of different colored pens decorate the dining table surface while two lazy cats lie on the floor beneath. You flip through your notes for the lesson from two days ago. In the meantime, Minho is frantically shuffling through your flashcards.

He abruptly groans after turning a card around and slumps back into his chair. “I’m so screwed. My test average is already bad, so this is just gonna make it worse. I barely remember what we covered today.”

Minho’s version of bad is everyone’s above average, but it’s unlike him to complain about his scores because he knows it. “Is everything alright?” you ask. “You don’t have to answer, but you seem off.”

“You remember that emergency last week?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try to arrange your facial expression into something less obvious. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s not about that.” He looks over to see you caught between relief and annoyance. He grins for a few seconds and then turns slightly more serious. “Dance team stuff. Someone got injured, so we have to fix the routine.”

You nod sagely. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, but my bio grade doesn’t have to.” With a newfound sense of energy, he straightens up and dives back into reading flashcards. “Thanks for letting me borrow your notes. I’d let you ruin my life.”

He says it with the same joking manner as last time, but you don’t answer in the same way. “I don’t think you need any help with that,” you say as you hold up his quiz from a few days ago. There’s a big, red 79% circled at the top and ugly slashes through the numbers of incorrectly answered questions.

He shrinks and makes a face at the low score. “In my defense, I was busy with dance, and it’s at least passing.”

“Well, your 90% test average is suffering.” You shut the textbooks and motion for him to put down the cards. “Tell me about lysosomes.”

“92, but alright. Lysosomes—”

When the tests are passed back another week later, you and Minho gather around your locker after school to compare scores.

He counts down, and you steadily lean in closer in anticipation. “Okay. 3… 2… 1!”

“95!” “95%!”

There’s a brief second where the two of you process each other’s grades before both of you burst into cheers about not only having matching scores but also good matching scores.

“Yogurt place or cafe?” you ask. It’s been a longstanding tradition between you and Minho to get celebratory desserts for receiving scores over 90. “I have a coupon for the new froyo place.”

Minho shakes his head dejectedly, and your heart sinks. You rarely have an excuse to hang out with him outside of school nowadays.

“I’ve got practice in” — he checks his phone — “in fifteen minutes. Raincheck or I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow morning?”

You brighten up at the prospect of Minho-delivered coffee. “Coffee. Definitely coffee.”

He nods and waves goodbye to you. “See you then.”

“Don’t be late tomorrow!”

four

Because you knew that you were getting coffee delivered to you, you didn’t have any before heading to school and are currently fighting the urge to fall asleep standing up. The bright sunlight that comes in whenever anyone walks into the building greatly helps.

“Morning,” Minho greets, a cardboard cup carrier in his hand.

You spot your drink and eagerly snatch out of its place. “I’d let you ruin my life,” you sigh, too happy to snap at Minho’s smirk at the use of the phrase. You notice the red and gold label wrapped around the cup. “You went to the expensive cafe too? Goodness, how much does this cost?”

“10,000 won.”

“There’s no way it was that expensive!” you argue.

“Delivery fee.” He sips on his own coffee while he waits for you to hand him his money.

You pull out your wallet and give him half of what he wants. “There’s no way it was more than 5,000.”

He smiles and pockets the money. “4,000 actually.” Before you can demand your change, he looks at an invisible watch around his wrist and says, “Can’t be late. See you.”

He takes off before you can protest, and you moodily drink your coffee instead. At least it’s good and full of caffeine.

Lia, the one who dressed as Sandy for Halloween and the person who just witnessed highway robbery, steps closer and asks, “Was that your boyfriend?”

At the word ‘boyfriend,’ you heat up. You snort and shake your head. “Boyfriends don’t overcharge their girlfriends for a drink. He’s my friend.”

“He seems sweet,” she says.

You’re about to correct her when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and smile when you see the notification on your lockscreen.

Lee Minho paid you ₩1,000 - delivery fee has been revoked

“He’s sweet, I guess.”

Lee Minho requests ₩1,000 - jk

“Never mind.”

five

You can’t believe you let Minho talk you into attending one of his dance competitions. It’s not that you’re not supportive of him and his extracurriculars, but none of your friends are free this weekend, so you have to sit in the audience by yourself. You’re not exactly lonely, but you certainly feel out of place. It’s also not fun once you remember that you have a stack of homework waiting on your desk.

When they announce your school’s team to the stage, you join the applause and shout your friend’s name as loud as you can. Minho somehow manages to pick you out of the crowd and nods at you in acknowledgement. Even though you know he can’t clearly see it, you mouth, “Good luck,” to him.

When the spectacular performance is over, you clap and shout his name again. It’s the last performance, and you anxiously wait while the judges deliberate the winner. You text some votes of confidence to Minho in the meantime. Soon all the teams gather in the room. The feedback from the head judge’s microphone quickly silences the whispers.

They’re not third.

Or second.

Or first.

They’re fifth.

You look over at Minho, who is patting his team members on a job well done. He’s smiling goodnaturedly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You grab the bouquet of flowers you bought for him and head down to the ground floor like many others are doing.

Heart thumping, you tap him on the shoulder and hold the bouquet out to him. “Hey. Congrats on making top five,” you joke in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Thanks, I guess. It went better than we expected, but you know, first is ideal,” he shrugs. He points at the flowers in your hands, melancholy nearly gone. “Did you buy those from the supermarket?”

“Would it be better if I said I stole them from the neighbor’s garden?”

“Did you really?”

“No.”

“Lame.” He takes them anyway. “I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You again think back to the stack of homework you have and the amount of studying and procrastinating you had planned to do at home. “Me neither.”

“Thanks for coming though.” He pauses for a bit, and you already know what the next line he says will be. “I’d let you ruin my life.”

“You’re already ruining mine.”

Like you’re both in kindergarten again, he shoves you in retaliation — lightly though because he doesn’t actually want to hurt you — and knowing you can’t push him as easily, you stick your tongue at him. He is soon called away for a group photo, and he volunteers you to take it. You do so, and after, with the help of a team member, you and Minho get a picture together with the fifth place trophy. You both smile at the camera, but you’re gently elbowing each other in the ribs all the while.

A minute later, he shows you his phone screen, and you see his post of the recent picture.

being number five and ruining lives, reads the caption.

You like the post anyway and end up setting that photo as your lockscreen.

six

“I hate this,” Minho mumbles to you, his breath making clouds in the winter air. “Why do they do this to us?”

You walk alongside him, trudging at the same snail’s pace as he is. “I know,” you reply. “C’mon, let’s just get it over with so we can leave.”

You drag him by the arm to the front of the giant Christmas tree. He puts an arm around your shoulder and you an arm around his waist. The two of you plaster wide grins on each of your faces while your respective mothers snap photos of their children in matching outfits. The fathers have learned to disappear once they have arrived at the outdoor mall, and you wish you and Minho decided to slip away before the current situation.

“I hate this tradition,” you say through your teeth. You wince when someone’s flash goes off, the light blinding in the night.

“Me too. This vest looks so stupid.”

“The bow around my neck agrees.”

It happens every year, but you and Minho never grow tired of complaining. Your mothers, best friends themselves, insist on documenting the friendship of their children, so you and Minho are subjected to ridiculous Christmas Eve photos in front of the same tree every year. For whatever reason, neither of you have ever rebelled and refused. Darn people-pleasing personalities.

When your parents are satisfied with the results, you and Minho rush to partially get rid of your outfits. Minho unbuttons his vest, cursing at his cold fingers, and you fumble with the knotted ribbon around your frilly shirt collar. Of course you decide to cut your nails the day before.

“Y/N?” someone says. “Is that you?”

You look up from your ribbon and see it's one of your classmates. “Oh, hey, Lia,” you greet. You point at her bags. “Last minute shopping?”

She sheepishly nods. “I like your dress, by the way.” You don’t miss the way her eyes flicker back and forth from you to Minho. “Do you guys know you’re matching?”

“It’s a stupid tradition,” Minho interjects. His vest is draped over one arm and the other is busy loosening his tie. He looks at the limp bow around your neck. “Do you need help?”

“Yes.”

Lia shoots you a knowing smile and starts turning away. “I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you guys. I’ll see you after break. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say back, more concerned with getting the cursed ribbon off than goodbyes. Minho echoes the sentiment.

You tilt your chin up and let Minho take a stab at the knot. Whenever his cold hands accidentally brush against your neck, you flinch and your pulse jumps. You hear him swearing under his breath over how tight the knot is, and you meekly apologize and feel yourself grow warm. Everyone’s staring at the spectacle, but you want the stupid thing so badly you don’t care.

“Why did tie it so tightly?” he mutters, finally managing to pull it apart. “I think my hands are cramping.”

“I’d let you ruin my life,” you mockingly say before dropping the act. “But thanks for real.”

“Only for you.” He smirks. “You have to get the dads though.”

You groan. He really does want to ruin your life. You and Minho’s dads are notoriously hard to convince to leave the mall once they’ve found a nice spot to eat and chat. “Anything else,” you plead.

He shakes his head. “No. I did it last year too.”

You take his hand and drag him with you, despite his protests. His fingers are still chilly, but his palms are surprisingly warm. He mutters about your own cold hands at the same time, but you’re too preoccupied with scanning the mall for your fathers to say something witty back. You accompanied him last year, and he would do the same to you this year.

As expected, Minho gives you dirty looks while you spend fifteen minutes begging and waiting for the dads to hurry up. You innocently smile back all the while.

seven

You spent a good portion of your winter break at Minho’s house, playing with his cats, eating his mom’s delicious japchae, and lamenting about school starting up again. School is in session now, and you wait for your first period teacher to open the door as you scroll through your phone outside in the hallway. Minho stops by to return the scarf you left at his house, and to your delight, there’s free coffee that comes with it. He puts the emphasis on ‘free.’

“I’d let you ruin my life,” you say, taking it from him. It’s from the expensive cafe again. “Wow, what’s the special occasion?”

“Just ‘cause,” he replies. “See you after school.”

“See you.”

What a weird way to begin the day. You wonder if Minho’s done anything to the drink; no way he would give you something for free. However, when you cautiously taste it, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. You swirl it to further check, but there’s still nothing.

Even though he said it was free, you still send him the money anyway.

A few minutes later, Lia shows up and says good morning. The two of you idly discuss winter break, and you both find out that neither of you did anything interesting.

“Are you going to go?” Lia asks. She points at the giant poster advertising winter formal tickets.

You shrug and sip on your Minho-delivered coffee. It still tastes normal, and you’re not sure what to make of it. “I don’t know. I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Aren’t you dating that guy I saw you matching outfits with at Christmas? I don’t know if I already told you, but those were cute outfits.”

“Nope. He’s still my friend.”

“Is that disappointment I hear?” she teases. At your stuttering attempts to retort, she laughs. “I’m kidding. But he is cute.”

“Do you still want him to ruin your life?”

“You heard that?” she groans. “Oh my goodness, that’s embarrassing.”

When you tell Minho what happened after school, he doesn’t laugh. It’s not particularly funny anyway, but he usually smiles a little. Today he’s stony. “So is that your answer?”

“My answer to what?” you bewilderedly ask. You think back to morning and even when you were last back at his house only to come up blank with what he can be referring to. “What did you ask?”

Realization hits him. “You didn’t read the coffee label, did you?”

The cup has long been tossed into the trash by now. “Was I supposed to be? What did you ask?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he quickly brushes off. He hops down off the wall. “I gotta go to practice.”

“Wait!” you call after him but he runs off.

A few minutes later, you find yourself digging through the trash can you threw your empty cup in earlier. Luckily, it’s mostly filled with paper cuttings and other coffee cups. However, the latex gloves you borrowed from your biology teacher don’t lessen your disgust, especially when leftover liquid drips out. Your teacher watches on in amusement as you scrutinize every one.

“This must be a very important piece of trash,” she remarks.

“It is. Oh! It’s this one!”

The label is stained with coffee, and you can just barely make out Minho’s handwriting in black ink. Why did he have to write it so small? No wonder why you didn’t notice it earlier. You hold up the cup higher to the light, and your eyes grow wide as you read the message.

want to ruin my life forever and be more than friends? will you go to winter formal with me?

You nearly drop it in your surprise. Oh goodness. You really, really messed up.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage, and every part of you is buzzing with adrenaline. Minho likes you in that special way, and you…

You…

You kind of feel the same?

Yes?

Wait, no?

No!

You definitely feel the same.

You hurriedly thank your teacher for her help and rush out of the classroom with Minho’s cup in your hand. You have to fix this now. You burst into the dance practice area, out of breath, and everyone looks at you in confusion.

“Yes! The answer is yes, Minho!” you shout and triumphantly hold out the cup.

The dance captain looks back and forth between your panting frame and Minho’s frozen figure. “Let’s take a five minute break?” he says, more of a suggestion than an order.

You walk over to Minho while everyone else disperses. He meets you halfway. His mouth is open, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

You smile at him and thrust the cup into his hands. “Hi. The answer is yes to both questions.”

“But you said you told Lia we were just friends,” he breathlessly says, like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Well, we were just friends ten hours ago. I didn’t realize I wanted to be more than your best friend until I read your note.”

A hesitant smile creeps up onto his face. “I didn’t think you would actually take me up on my offer of ruining my life. I thought I screwed it all up by even asking.”

“No! I really like you,” you blurt out. “Like really, really. And I think I have for a long time now. It just… took awhile for me to find out.”

“I like you too, life ruiner.”

You try to playfully push him, but he wraps you in a hug before you can even touch him. You squirm in his grasp and giggle when he holds you even tighter.

“Life ruiner, life ruiner,” he chants in your ear. “And you’re all mine now.”

~ ad.gray

#stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #friends to lovers #20201024

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