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delopsia · 5 months

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Void seriously may be the best fic I’ve read in idk how long and I just wanted to give it some love since I saw you were bummed about it’s performance. I’ve re read it more than I like to admit tbh I love the concept so much!

This actually made me tear up a little bit, lmao. I'm so happy that you've enjoyed it 🥺💐I had a lot of fun sitting down and detailing their backstories and setting up where it could all go. There are so many pages of notes and details on how Rhett and Bob met, how they found the Reader and a whole action sequence that took place directly after Void ended, but I don't have the heart to write it. I'll give you the summary of it all💕

The events of the AU were kicked off in 2016, seven years before Void. A hole had appeared above the ocean, and the Navy was investigating what happened when someone was sent through it because cameras failed the moment they got close to it. Phoenix and Bob were the names pulled to fly the mission and were only told they would be flying through a black hole that was created by highly specialized projectors.

Instead of coming out the other side, the two were swallowed up by the hole, and for four years, nobody knew what happened to them. The Navy crafted a vague story about them going missing, gave them a funeral, and eventually, they were legally dead. Bob and Phoenix only felt like they were in the hole for a few minutes, but during that time, chunks of the "ore" that powers the hole flew by and struck them, Bob in the head and Phoenix in the chest. And though Phoenix was able to fly directly after emerging from the hole, the ore clogged an artery in her heart, and she suffered a heart attack after they landed.

They never told her family about how she turned up four years later; she was buried in an unmarked grave, and any witnesses were legally silenced. But Bob was still alive; the ore was trapped and manifesting in his head, tormenting him with violent visions, but he was as alive as ever.

What do you do when the media finds out a pilot appears from nowhere four years after going missing? You accuse him of deserting the Navy and fabricate elaborate evidence to sentence him to five years in prison for it. Because prosecuting an innocent man is easier than admitting you lied.

The thing about Bob is that he's crafty. He knew he was fucked, so he vanished from his apartment shortly before the trial, headed in the direction of his family, and then veered north, up into Montana and Wyoming. Places disconnected from technology, small towns without internet and cell reception. He found himself a small job as a ranch hand, and for a while, he was fine.

Until the visions started leading him places to an old mine, where a chunk of gold had been hidden by a miner who had long passed. They told him of the investigation that was catching his scent, helped him to know when to skip town, and what clues were setting him off.

And then it took him to the hole. Bobby didn't know it when he stepped in, but the hole took him to the exact universe that the Reader existed in. Nobody knew him here. There was nobody to hunt him because Robert Floyd quite literally did not exist. The laws were so loose here that faking an identity was easy, he sold the gold, got an apartment with the money, and took up shop working in the tech industry. Not his ideal job, but it worked.

At the same time, Rhett and Perry got into a fight in the pit bar parking lot after Rhett had suggested moving on from Rebecca. They thought Perry had killed him. And Royal, fearing the loss of both sons, took Rhett's body out to the hole in the west pasture. Rhett woke at some point in time, begging, pleading for his father to quit dragging him to the hole, but it was of no use. Because if he got away, there was no chance in hell he would ever trust Royal again, and he would surely tell the police of what Perry did.

So Royal pushed him in.

The hole spits him out on an unfamiliar sidewalk, and in his bedroom, Bob is struck with a violent vision that leads him right to that old cowboy, and he takes him in. Rhett's beat to hell, his fists are bloody, and when he recalls what happened, his hands turn pitch black.

Royal is the son of Chronus, born with the ability to create and manipulate the ore used for time travel, and Rhett inherited that ability. It simply didn't activate until he entered the hole.

Just weeks later, the Reader goes on a cabin trip with some old friends they haven't spoken to in years. They were meant to rent a different cabin, but between work and the stresses of life, the Reader forgot and unknowingly pissed off several members of the group. Those friends thought it would be funny to get back at the Reader by locking them out in the blizzard, but it was miscommunicated about who let them in, and by the time they realized the Reader was still outside, they were gone.

One friend called the police, but by morning, nobody would say who had gone missing. If they pretended not to know the person who had vanished, then maybe they could escape the legal repercussions of their actions. And those small-town police truly weren't cut out for such an investigation. They got away with it.

The Reader had wandered off into the cold, searching for help, and during their frostbitten haze, they didn't notice the hole until they fell in.

Just like with Rhett, Bobby had a vision that led them right to where the Reader had been left, on the concrete. They only meant to warm the Reader up and take them to the police, but their story was similar to Rhett's; they didn't want to recount the story anymore than they had to.

But the thing about trauma is that it bonds people. These three didn't drift apart; they stuck to one another like glue. With discovering Rhett's new powers and gradually opening up to one another, it shouldn't have been a surprise that things got warmer in that one-bedroom apartment. Shy cuddles became hesitant kisses, and kisses morphed into whispered I-love-you's.

Until the Reader was recognized in public by one of the people who locked them out, and suddenly, they were being accused of intentionally going missing and wasting police efforts.

What do you do when the law is after you? You run.

They went to Rhett's timeline, hid in small towns, stole from other timelines, and sold those things until they could afford a house in the mountains in an unnamed country. Far away from society, where nobody could find them. The house lit up with security systems, cameras, and motion detectors, fearing the day someone caught their scent once more.

But that wasn't enough. Because the Reader was angry with the people who couldn't seem to get enough of tormenting them, Rhett couldn't get over how his family protected Perry, and Bob had finally learned that Phoenix never even received a proper burial.

They crafted together evidence and anonymously sent it to Sherrif Joy's front door, damning Perry as Rhett's killer. He got sentenced. Rhett made a joke of showing up in his cell to frighten him. Forever angry about the life he lost.

They time-traveled to copy the security footage of the Reader being locked out, and they went to find and copy the documents that detailed what had been done to Bob and Phoenix.

This is where Void took place. Bob had intentionally timed their appearance to coincide with the time his old Navy friends were in the building. His every intent had been to get them on his side. But Maverick was on the side that viewed Bob as guilty, and there was no getting through.

Royal appeared because he had finally figured out that Rhett inherited his ability. He searched every timeline for him, and had every intention of hauling him back home to free Perry from his prison.

The ore in Bob's head acts like a sort of trip wire. It reacts when there is a change or a threat. So when Royal stepped into the timeline, a vision triggered. But Royal could have never expected that Rhett's ability was stronger, wilder. It manifests around his body and allows him to turn into the ore; he can move as an intelligent mist and reform at will. Where Royal can only access the hole from certain points, Rhett can open it as he pleases.

They escaped, but it left Royal in contact with Maverick and Bob's old friends. They had something in common, and an alliance of sorts was formed. Seeking justice, as they called it.

Bob, Rhett, and Reader gathered in a city and watched as a video was placed on every screen. Full of detailed documents and truths that they hoped would set the story straight. They weren't criminals. They were people who had been hurt time and time again. They were only villains because others had forced them into that corner.

It could have been perfect.

Even though it would have painted them as monsters to the people hunting them, it could have given them a chance at a normal life together of settling down and growing old. They had never done anything wrong.

But it didn't.

Those painful truths were bared to the world, and in return, they were painted to be villains who were trying to start an uprising based on falsities. They had some support, sure, but they were labeled as the enemy. Marked as wanted, dead or alive, like this was the Wild West, and they were the bank robbers.

So they ran.

They move from place to place, timelines and worlds, but Royal continues to find them. They change identities and appearances, but they never split up. Are chased through cities, Rhett opens portals as quickly as he can, carries them through hell and back. He draws more ore from Bob's head to stop the visions and fights to keep the Reader from fading back into their timeline.

It's hell, but they're together, and that's all that matters.

The ending of Void was meant to split into two. One hurts more than the other, but they're both happyish endings. Both started when Rhett found the ability to travel into his past self. The person Reading got to choose which they experienced, depending on how they wanted the story to go.

The "good" ending involved Rhett going against Bob's wishes to step into the past. He told the Reader and Bobby of what happened to them. Their persecution, what chasing vengeance and exposing the truth will do to them. In this ending, the evidence is never mailed to Sherrif Joy; Perry gets away with attempted murder, and none of them will ever see a sense of justice.

They will live their lives happily ever after, but they will never be able to forgive the people who hurt them and have to live with that knowledge forever. Sometimes people can hurt you so bad that it ruins your life, and you won't be able to do a damn thing about it. They'll never see their families again.

They make the decision to move far into the future if only to be sure that nobody will ever find them. Where their families have long since passed, and they bring flowers from the garden to their graves. It's not perfect; they hurt every day, but they have each other, and that makes them happy.

The story ends with them much older. Bobby has begun to lose a little bit of his memory, and Rhett's a misty presence more often than not, but they're together. Settled on a bench, gazing off into the sunset. There is a void left in their hearts, but at least it did not overcome them.

TW for multiple major character deaths and gun violence:

The "bitter-sweet" ending involved Rhett choosing not to travel into his past self because Bob feared what kind of time conundrum that would cause. They were fine. Until Bob's eyes turned black in the middle of the kitchen, struck with a vision. But before it could take hold, a gunshot had rung out. And he just

dropped.

Royal had shot him. Point blank in the head. And he had every intent to kill again if that meant hauling Rhett back to face the law. He didn't get one word out before Rhett just...lost it.

Rage does something to people that turns them into monsters. And for that moment, Rhett was the monster. He lost control over the ability inside of him, and though Royal kept firing that gun, he didn't feel it. Rhett didn't just rip Royal apart. He ripped a hole in every timeline. Until the anger subsided, he realized Bobby's body was lost to the hole, and not only was the Reader fading out of existence, but he was bleeding out.

The Reader slipped out of existence before he took his last breath. They slowly emerged to the timeline they belonged to, and though their body is taken to court and tried for whatever charges the court could boil up, their soul isn't quite...there. They wander the Earth detached from their own being, grieving in a ghostly sort of manner, and at some point, they come to rest at Phoenix's grave.

They've only seen her in pictures, but they know it's her ghost who appears and holds out a hand. They take it, and the world fades to white.

It's in the afterlife that they hear the sound of their name being called. They don't get the slow turn, the chance to recognize the two faces looking back at them; they're already being swept off of their feet. In a big hug with their two boyfriends. Soulmates, the two lovingly refer to themselves as. Together at last; dead and alive all at the same time.

This story ends with them smiling; forever young, looking down into a courtroom from the clouds. Though they never lived to see justice served, Rhett's rage had merged the three timelines into one, and through the chaos of it all, the secrets of the Abbotts, the hole, and the Navy were revealed.

Perry escaped prison, sure, but he lived a life in social exile, for everyone knew what he had done. Royal found himself in federal prison. Nat, Reader, and Bob's families finally got to know what happened to their babies. The people who locked the Reader in the cold were prosecuted. The Navy was forced to answer for what they had done.

Finally, the record had been set straight.

They cry. They laugh. They fall into each other in a big hug. And it leaves off with the three chasing each other, racing to be the first to get one of Nat's freshly baked cookies. The void consumed them, sure, it took everything from them, but in the end, it made them whole again. They'll spend the rest of forever together.

I truly don't know how the story got so fleshed out, lmao. One moment I'm trying to weave three tragedies together, and the next, I've got the most elaborate, beautifully painful story I've ever written. Void didn't get to become the series I hoped it would be, but hey, at least I get to share what it could have been lmao.

...that last part wasn't meant to be a joke, but now that I'm re-reading it, it is too perfect to delete 💃

#delgato's asks #rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #void au #tw gun #tw major character death

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houseofthe-rrverse · 2 years

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The Solangelo Book Cover is Out and You Get to See Me Try to Guess the Entire Dam Plot

Less than an hour ago from the time I'm writing this, the cover was released. So first, let's take a good look at it:

Nico and Will in the depths Tartarus, in front of what seems to be the Mansion of Night. Now, according to my memory, Annabeth and Percy passed through the Mansion of Night (MoT) before reaching the Doors of Death, where they left Bob/Iapetus.

The premise is that Nico hears a voice calling from Tartarus, who he thinks is Bob. Rachel's latest prophecy tells that Nico will have to "leave something of equal value behind". Nico and Will head to Tartarus to save Bob, who could be in trouble.

Ohhhh shit.

That image is them looking for Bob, by heading to the last place he was: near the Doors of Death. Problem is, you get there by passing through Nyx's domain, where the MoT is.

Nico is holding Will's hand, desperate, pointing to the MoT. It's implied here that Nico is convincing Will to go to the MoT, although it doesn't look like Will is sold out on the idea.

"Leave something of equal value"? Nico is saving Bob, taking him away from Tartarus. He must leave something EQUAL to Bob behind, for an equal exchange. Let's not forget, Nico was the one who helped Bob and cared for him. Bob is important to Nico.

It's obvious he wouldn't leave Will behind. He wouldn't even think of it. He has to leave something IMPORTANT. So:

Nico chooses to sacrifice himself. Will probably has a mental breakdown. Fits Nico's character. Or...

Will sacrifices himself, and Nico is gonna go absolutely CRAZY. Plus a mental breakdown. Fits Will's character.

(Extra Pain) Nico tries to sacrifice himself, but Will becomes the sacrifice instead somehow, through choosing to sacrifice himself. Extra points if they have a whole fight about it and Nico is left absolutely broken after Will's sacrifice.

Also, what the hell is this "sacrifice"?

Since Bob probably died, and his voice is the regenerated version of himself, I think the sacrifice is DEATH. A soul for a soul.

Where am I going with this? Well, people have been speculating that this story will be a parallel to the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

TLDR: they were married, Eurydice died, Orpheus bargained with Hades so her spirit would follow behind him to the surface to the living world, but he could never glance at her before they reached the surface or she'd stay dead forever. In his love, he failed to do so, causing her to stay dead permanently. A very sad tragedy.

See where I'm going? Will dies. Nico goes to the Underworld, bargains with Hades, Hades ends up giving the same conditions as Orpheus had. However, this could be the other way round. Orpheus was wonderful at music, close to Apollo too. It could be Will saving Nico.

One thing to note is that Eurydice was bitten by a venomous snake, causing her death. Maybe Nico sacrifices himself and Will feels quilty not being able to save him. As we know, Will takes pride in healing and saving others.

BUT- I think Will dying is more likely.

This winds back to the title. "The Sun and The Star"...a perfect metaphor for not only the 2 boys, but also for that theory! Solace, a name close to words related to the sun. Nico is a star.

"Nico di Angelo has been through so much. But there is a ray of sunshine in his life–literally: his boyfriend, Will Solace, the son of Apollo." A clue from the blog post.

Let's see what Riordan had to say about the title:

"I have to credit Mark with the title! They have a lot more poetry in their soul than I do. It is not a title I would ever have come up with by myself, but I’m very grateful because it is absolutely perfect."

This final clue that really sold me on my final theory of Nico-saves-Will is the fact that Oshiro is more poetic. The title is meant to be symbolic of the 2...you know the metaphor of the North Star? That star was used by explorers as a navigation symbol. It was a fixed point of reference, a way you could use to find your way home.

Will is the Sun, Nico is the North Star.

The Sun shines on, the beam of light that shines on in the darkness. But it cannot shine forever. In the depths of hell, the North Star guides him back home.

#woah #that was long #nico di angelo #hoo #pjo #pjo hoo toa #trials of apollo #toa #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #jason grace #will pjo #will solace headcanon #nico headcanon #rrverse #solangelo book #solangelo

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thesunandmoons-blog · 2 years

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pool boy

long story short i was talking to @gavinsdeviant about david and angel because i have we have a shared problem with wolf boys and david being angel’s ‘pool boy’ came up and i couldn’t stop thinking about it

cw/tw : all fluff and love and shit

Word count : 1,244

Fandom : redacted asmr

Pair : davey/angel

if you wanna read on ao3!!

Anytime anybody asked Angel and David how they met, they always tell them that David used to be their pool boy. He hated that, by the way, and it was shown with a, “That’s not true, don’t listen to them,” a huff, and a shake of his head.

Angel was right, to a certain extent! David had been cleaning their pool since they’d moved into the house together, and it was something Gabe had taught David to do when he was growing up. It was fairly simple nowadays, seeing that they had a pretty well kept pool when they’d moved in. There were no big renovations or cleans that they needed to do to the pool when they bought the house, so it was an easy keep up.

Summertime in Dahlia was no joke, and the nice pool that David and Angel had always served as a nice way to stay cool during their freetime. David always had that long pole thing with the net, Angel not having a damn clue what the actual name of it was. He would scoop dead leaves and all sorts of stuff out of the water, and they would stand in the kitchen and watch. David could typically be found doing this right before the two of them were going to hop in for a cool down swim, likely after a meal or something, so Angel would be watching from over the sink while scrubbing dishes.

Because they were planning to hop in as soon as they were both finished with their tasks at hand, David was in nothing but his swim trunks. God damn. Angel’s cheeks flushed as their eyes wandered his figure. Tall, warm skin, thick arms and thighs that were defined in all the right ways, and the slightly protruding abs that David always denied to admit he had, even though they’re literally right there. What really sold it for Angel was the strong, broad shoulders that he had. Those brought them a sense of safety- something they could always hold onto in a time of need.

The Alpha’s eyes caught his mate’s wandering ones, eyebrow raised as he now held the net’s pole like a staff, his other hand resting on a jutted out hip. He waited a few seconds before calling out to them, easily noting the light coming back to their eyes as they regained focus into real time. Angel cleared their throat, face bright with color as they looked down to the sink, continuing to scrub the dishes a little rougher than necessary.

Once the sink was cleared of any remaining dishes, Angel dried their hands on their t-shirt, making their way to the side door in the kitchen that lead to the backyard. Where the pool was. Where David was.

Where shirtless David was.

They stumbled out of the door, tripping on their own feet as they finally stabilized on the patio ground. Eyes slowly moved from the ground to their handsome boyfriend, his hands outstretches as he looked a few steps closer, probably from watching them stumble so much. Their lips were now graced with a large grin, David huffing in response. “Do you think you’re capable of giving me a warning if you plan on tripping on the concrete, Angel?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, and Angel wasn’t one to back down from a good banter session. “Only if you promise to clean the pool everyday without a shirt on! Even better yet, with nothing o-”

Splash!

Angel gasped, their dry clothing now being spotted with wet dots as David swatted over as much water as he could at them. “You little snot- go change so we can swim already.” Angel began to skip away back into the house, singing, “Yes my handsome pool boy! Right away!~”

Minutes later they walked back through that same side door, now wearing nothing but their swim attire and a towel wrapped around their waist. Their feet took them to the covered deck table, covered by an umbrella that David (thankfully) installed before the weather got too hot. They’d tossed their towel into one of the chairs, noticing all of the sunscreen that David had just tossed onto the table.

Seeing the amount of suncreen bottles dumped onto that table didn’t surprise them one bit, but watching David walk over to them with a stern look did. “If you think you’re getting in that pool without putting on sunscreen first, you’re wrong.” His arms were crossed over his chest, sunglasses slowly slipping to the end of his greasy, sunscreen covered nose.

David had been wearing sunscreen since he’d been outside that day, which had pretty much been since the morning. That meant that Angel had a full view of his glossy chest and arms and shoulders and abs and-

They could go on forever just thinking about how good he looked, especially when he was all shiny like that, his skin glimmering under the heat of the sun. The sweat that David worked up around his forehead and on his chest had their knees weak, and they couldn’t wait to get into that pool with him to make him more wet than he already was.

As if David could read their mind about him, their own skin was now glistening in the sunlight, coated in a layer of sunscreen as their boyfriend’s hands travelled along their skin. Angel swallowed, a shiver shooting up their spine as David’s nimble fingers rubbed the lotion down their thighs now, letting his thumbs run small circles over their inner thighs. His eyes glanced up, peering over his sun glasses while he said, “Just being thorough,” finished off with a wink.

David stood back up and Angel was completely frozen in place. The two of them had done some pretty... intense stuff before, but his hands over their body like that never failed to get them flustered to hell and back. David took this opportunity to literally sweep them off of their feet, arms catching them underneath their knees and behind their back as he not so gently threw them into the pool.

A loud gasp was heard before it was covered by a loud splash, Angel soon resurfacing while slicking all of their hair back, like in those modeling ads.

David liked that. A lot.

He was feeling playful and decided to jump in, doing a nice big canonball next to his mate. A grin was on his face as he hit the water, Angel trying to protect their face from the backsplash as much as possible, but failing miserably. They were already struggling to touch the bottom in that area of the pool, so there was no way they could keep themself up and stop from getting more water in their face!

Before too long David resurfaced, tossing all of his hair back just like his lovely mate. He swam over towards them, smiles larger than life on both of their faces. The alpha scooped them up in his arms, their legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, almost on instinct. He carried them deeper into the pool, laughter starting to erupt out of Angel’s throat as their foreheads now touched. David’s sun glasses were discarded somewhere in the pool by now, but it didn’t matter.

“I love you, Angel. So much. More than I could ever describe.”

“And I love you even more, my pool boy!”

“Hey, you little snot!”

#redacted asmr #redacted david #redacted angel #david's the pool boy #he hates being called that lmfao #redacted fanfic

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davidfarland · 2 years

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Writing with Emotional and Intellectual Payoff

Writing with emotional and intellectual payoff not only draws in readers, but keeps them turning page after page. There are several types of emotional payoffs, as well as intellectual payoff, that are very effective when used appropriately.

Writing with Nostalgia

Some stories gain power by tapping into the emotions that we felt at a particular age, or during a certain time of our lives. They use nostalgia as a powerful draw. I can think of a few extremely popular fantasy novels that hearken back to Tolkien’s work. Years ago, one major reviewer said of Robert Jordan something to the effect of “Robert Jordan has come to dominate the landscape that Tolkien created.” In short, of the Tolkienesque writers, Jordan had done the best job of recreating the feelings that Tolkien evoked.

Similarly, if you’re writing certain types of romance, you might hearken back to Jane Austen; or if you’re writing about the 1970s, you might try to capture that period in history so perfectly that it takes your readers back in time. In the same way, it seems that every major city in the U.S. once had an author of police thrillers who specialized in writing about that city.

So nostalgia is a tremendously powerful draw in a lot of types of literature, even wonder literature, though it seems to me that the more original your work is, the more difficult it becomes to use nostalgia as a draw.

Learn more about creating powerful nostalgia in Drawing on the Power of Resonance in Writing by David Farland, available where ebooks are sold and as part of our Super Writers Bundle.

Writing with Mystery

Another huge draw is mystery. If you analyze bestselling novels—from young adult literature, to thrillers to fantasy and so on—you’ll find that nearly all of them open with some mysterious element. I believe that it was the author John Brown who pointed out to me a study that showed the power of mystery. The brains of dogs who were sent out on the hunt, it was discovered, were rewarded with an intermittent supply of dopamine to keep them interested in the hunt. As soon as the object the dogs were searching for was discovered, the dopamine stopped and was replaced by a rush of serotonin.

It appears that humans are much the same. A good mystery, with plenty of clues, can hold readers for hundreds of pages.

Writing with Wonder

Then of course comes wonder, that sense of discovery that comes when we find something new. In some genres, such as science fiction and fantasy, and in most YA fiction, it is the controlling emotion of the literature, the emotion that the author seeks most to evoke.

But of course, as I’ve pointed out before, we don’t really even have “genres” in fiction. Books are sold based on the emotion that they’re supposed to evoke. Thus, romance books evoke romance, thrillers arouse feelings associated with adventure, mysteries give us our dopamine rush, and we have horror for the scare. If you look at science fiction and fantasy, you’ll understand why they were called “wonder” literatures as early as the 1960s.

Need help writing wonder? Check out Writing Wonder by David Farland.

The Appropriate Emotional Payoff

The most important things to consider about a story are these: What emotions is this story attempting to arouse? And are those emotions appropriate to the audience?

Young readers respond to wonder, humor, horror, and mystery. Writing dramatic novels for children will probably destroy your career. Similarly, if you’re an elderly person writing a nostalgic novel about your life during the Great Depression and hoping that it will appeal to children, you’re going to be disappointed. Children don’t share your nostalgia. They don’t really read for that. Now if you have valuable insights you gained in your childhood, those might serve as a draw, but I’ve read literally dozens of novels written by elderly people who just don’t understand their audience.

Evoking the Right Emotions

You need to know what it is that your reader wants in his or her story, and then supply it in abundance. If you’re writing a romance, your reader will want it to be the most powerful one of its kind. That should be your goal. If you’re writing humor, then your novel needs to be so funny it makes your reader weep.

In critiquing a story, I look at how well the author caters to the needs of his or her readers. What emotions did I feel when I was reading the story? How powerfully? How frequently?

Writing with Intellectual Payoff

Now, you might note that I lump intellectual payoff with emotional payoff. Plato himself listed intellectual payoff as one of the primary values of a tale. Most of us, when we have a cool insight, get that feeling that our “head is about to explode.” It’s something like a feeling of wonder, but it’s aroused by a cool plot turn, or a startling revelation, or a unique plot element. Sometimes, a character’s insight in a story will arouse that feeling. Have you ever watched a movie and heard a character say something that seemed profound or offered an insight that was just what you needed to hear at that time in your life? A great story, in my estimation (and Plato’s), doesn’t just entertain, it enlightens. It doesn’t just amuse the reader, it offers insights into the human condition.

So when I critique a tale, I often ask myself at the end, “Am I a wiser and better person for having read this tale?” If so, the tale will stand tall in my memory.

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writeblr #writing reference

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ageofsun · 1 year

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Higuchi: A Thot

I want to talk about Higuchi, because the last time we had an author without a skill, y'all know what we got? Tachihara

First, the briefest of biographies for irl Higuchi Ichiyo:

She was born in 1872 to a family of farmers living in Tokio. She was shy and quiet, and when she studied on a prestigious institute for poetry she developed a sort of inferiority complex, as her family was economically strained and all of her classmates were well off.

After the death of her father, her mother, siblings and her moved to Yoshiwara, a red district in Tokio, where she found the inspiration for her stories, with usually involve the struggles of poor women.

She worked at odd jobs until she found success with her short tale Umoregi (translated as In the Darkness, literal "obscurity"). She fell in love with her writing mentor, but it was unrequited.

Her most celebrated works include Nigorie (translated as In Muddy water, lit. muddy creek), Juusan'ya (trans. The Thirteenth Night, lit. 13th night of the 9th month, a crescent-moon watching festival), and Takekunabe (trans. Growing Up, lit to compare height).

She produced over 25 stories in the period between 1892 and her death of tuberculosis at age 24 in 1896.

We can find clear traces of Higuchi-sensei in bsd Higuchi: her inferiority complex (do I really belong in the Mafia?) and unrequited love (which I consider an interesting twist in the 'senpai please notice me' type of character), and I think we could make the case for a similar backstory (Higuchi-sensei's father entered vassalage -sp?- to a lord the year before the feudal system was banned, then became a goverment official but died drowning in debt; so middle class but plunged in poverty, as good a reason as any for bsd Higuchi to enter the Mafia).

But that's not why I'm here for. I'm here for HER SKILL. What is it? Has it manifested yet but it's a non-combat type of skill so she never uses it? Or is she going to be our window into seeing a skill manifest for the first time (oh god I hope so)?

Higuchi-sensei's works are mostly tragedies: Takekunabe is the story of the last days of a girl before she's old enough to be sold to a brothel; Nigorie is the story of a courtesan stabbed by a former lover; Juusan'ya is about a woman married to an abusive man; Yamiyo (trans. Encounters on a Dark Night, lit. mooonless night) is a couple's failed attempt at revenge. But from what little I could find online, her stories have a "this is just how it is on this bitch of an Earth" quality. Not exactly defeatism but more like status-quoism.

All this leads me to believe, maybe foolishly, that some tragedy will befall bsd Higuchi and her skill will manifest (putting money on something happening to Akutagawa in front of her rn). It will be enough to save Akutagawa/herself/what-have-you, but it will have no effect whatsoever on their relationship: senpai will always be too busy thinking about Dazai to notice her. Status-quoism at its finest.

Now, what will her skill be? Let's search Higuchi-sensei's works for clues.

And damn, this woman liked her Thing as Title: we have Umoregi (obscurity), Nigorie (muddy creek), Juusan'ya (13th of 9th month), Yamiyo (moonless night), Outsugomori (New Year's Eve), Wakaremichi (crossroads), Yamisakura (flowers in dark -or depression), Wakarejimo (spring frost), Samidare (early summer rain)... I could keep going and going.

Considering bsd Higuchi's first fight was against Tanizaki's light snow, I'd love to see her skill being based on a weather title. However, it's unlikely because her most famous novel (which earned her praise from, maybe meaningfully, Mori Ougai) was Takekunabe (to compare heights, so maybe giantification??)

#bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #bsd Higuchi #idk I'm just throwing this out there #what do you guys think?

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rjalker · 1 year

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If you're publishing actual books then here's a tip:

Make sure the titles of your books are fucking relevant and memorable.

Exibit A of what not to do: The Murderbot Diaries.

The name for the whole series? Great. Descriptive. Can't be confused with anything else or easily forgotten.

The names for each individual story? Terrible.

They are, in chronological order (not publishing order), and the I only reason I know their names is from googling it despite having read each of these stories 4+ times now. This doesn't include the super short stories like the prequel or what I call book 4.5

All Systems Red

Artificial Condition

Rogue Protocol

Exit Strategy

Fugitive Telemetry

Network Effect

None of these titles are actually relevant to the story they tell in any meaninful, memorable way. I have read these books 4+ times now, and the only one whose title I can match up with its order is literally the first one, All Systems Red, because it's literally the first one.

The rest??? If you sent me a title at random I'd have no fucking clue which one it is or what happens in it!

These titles were very blatantly just chosen to follow a theme and sound cool and technological, and like,,,,,,that doesn't fucking work if you actually want people to be able to remember which one is which.

Let's compare this to another of Martha Wells' series, where she actually gives them memorable, meaningful titles!!!

The Cloud Roads

The Serpent Sea

The Siren Depths

The Edge of Worlds

The Harbors of the Sun

All of these titles are descriptive and relevant and meaningful to the story they tell! Once you read them, and hear the name, you're going to know exactly which one is which and what happened in it!

When picking a title for your books, do not just fucking pick some random words that sound cool but have nothing to do with your story! Even All Systems Red is kind of a fucking weird title for the story it actually tells. It sounds way more dramatic than it warrants.

None of The Murderbot Diaries book titles are actually descriptive or memorable in relation to the story they tell. Literally what in the fuck do the words "Rogue Protocol" have to do with the events of the third book??? If the title of your story requires readers to bend over backwards and reach for the farthest edges of their imagination to fit the title to the story, your title fucking sucks.

Your title is meant to do multiple things, including at its most basic, identify the story it tells. It has to be relevant and fitting with the theme of your story. The Cloud Roads does this. It's evocative, it's memorable, it's relevant, even if not literally.

Rogue Protocol does none of these things. Network Effect does none of these things. None of the titles for The Murderbot Diaries evoke anything of the story they tell.

This also applies to The Animorphs, but the Animorphs are absolute shit in every other way possible, so that's not surprising.

They are entirely and completely forgettable. And that's a problem, because literally the entire point of the title is that people remember and are able to identify it.

The titles could work if they were all just like,, normal short stories being published as a compilation. Like chapter titles. But they're not, they're separate books being sold by themselves.

More examples of titles that do their job correctly:

The Golden Compass

The Subtle Knife

The Amber Spyglass

All three of these titles are memorable and identifiable and relevant to the story they tell!

The Crystal Star

the only Star Wars book's name that I can ever remember off the top of my head. A major part of the plot is--you guessed it--a crystalized star!!!!

TLDR:

The title for your published book needs to be memorable and relevant, not just random cool sounding words!

#writing tips #writing advice #Rjalker reads The Murderbot Diaries #Rjalker reads The Books of The Raksura #And like Martha Wells did this with The City of Bones too.#like that title is useless.#yes there's some random offhand not actually relevant lore of people using bones #to tell fortunes.#but that is not actually relevant to the plot or important #there's no epidemico f people being murdered for their bones #it's a bad title #it coudl have worked if that was the name of a SERIES set within the same city #but it's literally just the one book that has next to nothing to do with using bones to tell the future!!!#so it's literally just there to sound cool and be irrelevant

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mrssimply · 1 year

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16th: Silence

There are many drawings of catboy!Johnny on twitter, and no I think it's very fitting because Johnny is totally a stray cat. It's a metaphor I've used many times before, so maybe it was time I embraced it fully. On my list of ideas, this one was supposed to be... so much more than that. But every time I thought about writing yet another silverdyne long fic, I would lose steam 'cause I think the last one, To the Day I die, was like a purge and I couldn't find energy to write another one.

But it was still in my head still demanding to be known so here it is, just a glimpse of what I had in mind.

Oh, and despite being about cat!persons, there is no concept of heat (not at this moment in the story I had in mind), and it's neither funny nor sexy because well... I love complicated things ;) It's T-rated.

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

There is someone slumped against Milt’s door. Kerry thinks it’s a man, maybe a few years older than him. He’s pale, and way too thin, like he hasn’t had a good meal in ages. His skin is covered in bruises, some old, some new, and Kerry recognizes the kind: he’s been beaten up. He is naked except for a pair of ratty jeans, and Kerry would bet he lost the rest of his clothes in the fights that got him those many bruises. There is blood at the corner of his mouth, and tickling out of his right ear. Kerry is fascinated by the ear, because it’s not a human ear, it’s a cat ear. Covered in fur black as the stranger’s hair, Kerry would have missed it, if not for the blood. It twitches weakly as rain falls on it, a sluggish reflex. There are other particular features on the stranger, like his tail, limp and lifeless between his legs. The boy is sagged sideways, allowing Kerry to see where the boy’s skin slowly transforms into fur as it forms the tail. Last notable thing is his left arm: it’s a heavy piece of cyberware, military grade, crudely sewn into his flesh. The chrome flashes with the neon’s sign flickering above them that says there is a ripper’s clinic here.

Kerry lives in the building above the clinic with two of his older sisters, and the boy is literally on his way to access the back entrance, which he prefers to use. Crouching in front of the young man, Kerry extends an arm to brush the tip of the fur-covered ear. It twitches again, evading his intrusive touch.

Biting his lower lip, Kerry makes a decision.

Five minutes later, Kerry is back with Milt, the ripperdoc.

“Damn”, the man whispers and it doesn’t reassure Kerry.

“Is he gonna be alright?”

“I dunno. Help me get him inside.”

The boy is heavier than he looks, so it’s panting and heaving that they push him on the medbed. Diagnostics start to run as soon as Milt turns on the scanner. Kerry looks at the monitor and the cat person intermittently.

Milt mutters about dehydration and undernourishment, about broken ribs and concussions. He straps an IV to the stranger and injects a cocktail of meds and stim to go with the fluids.

Then, the doc starts looking at the arm.

“Arasaka,” he says, more to himself than to Kerry. Hanging around his neck are dog tags, or well — cat tags, Kerry supposes.

“RJL-20.103”,” the doc reads.

“Is that a code or something?" Kerry asks.

"Designation. Company and platoon, probably,” he explains while pointing to the two numbers separated by a dot, “and then his personal ID.”

“No name?”

“Don’t think they give them names...”

Kerry lowers his eyes. Cat people were first engineered by the army, to combine human intelligence with the agility, strength and endurance of big cats. Later, when the war was “won”, they sold the patent to interested private corps, which birthed them for commercial purposes, mostly for the pleasure business.

The boy is obviously military oriented, the tags are a clue if the arm wasn’t sufficient, and if he’s here alone, then that means he escaped.

“Deserted” would have been the term for any normal soldier, but cats are not citizens, they are property of the army, or the Corp which birthed them. They don’t get the same rights, their purpose is to live and die on the battlefield. There is an entire army corp with just cats, and they get deployed in the most dangerous zones. They are used as cannon fodder, and stay simple soldiers all their short lives since the officers' positions are given to humans.

Kerry watches as Milt tenderly moves a lock of hair away from the boy’s cheek, and remembers the doc’s son enlisted some years ago, and that Milt has had no news ever since. Kerry doesn’t remember how the conversation went, but he knows Milt and his son, Cody, parted in anger. People that enlist nowaday are guaranteed a good position, the field work is mostly done by cat people, so ambitious young folk try their chance at war, thinking themselves safe from harm in command tents. The doc was opposed to his son enlisting, but Cody felt the army would give him better, and easier prospects than staying here to learn his father’s practice.

Milt sighs, says they now have to wait and see, and goes to fetch a blanket. Kerry watches over the stray. He is filthy, but Kerry can tell he would be real pretty usually. They almost always are, with genes handpicked for their purpose. That one got long dark lashes, the echoes of a smirk on his thin lips, and the beginning of a beard. He can’t be over twenty.

Kerry brushes his fingers behind the cat’s ear, stroking the soft fur, fascinated by the creature resting on the bed.

Kerry fell asleep on the couch, lured by the warmth and the regular beeps of the medical equipment of the clinic. He came back after dinner to see if their rescue was awake, but was informed by Milt there had been no change. He practiced on his guitar for a while, and then the tiredness of the day caught up with him. Since he turned eighteen, his sisters have asked Kerry to help them with the rent, saying he’s now a man and has to do his share: he can’t lay around all day just playing guitar, since that doesn’t pay for food. Yet. Kerry has big dreams.

Dreams that are violently interrupted by an aborted shout, followed by a growl. He opens his eyes in time to see the catboy jump/fall from the med bed, tearing up at the tube Milt linked into him and kicking the equipment around in his wild thrashing.

“Hey, wow, calm down!” Kerry speaks while getting up. Intense dark eyes zero on him before the young catboy crouches, ears flattening on his skull. He stills, body brimming with tension except for his tail which is swishing slowly behind him. Kerry raises his hands in the air.

“It’s ok, you’re safe here. You’re in a ripperdoc clinic.”

The catboy’s head wipes around, maybe searching for the doc, or just finally realizing where he is. It doesn’t relax him in the slightest, but he looks less ready to jump at Kerry.

Milt appears in the doorframe, probably alerted by the ruckus. When the stray sees him, he finally relaxes and rises slowly to his feet. His ears perk up, although one stays bent toward Kerry, as if keeping him in check while his attention is focused on the doc.

“You’re awake, good.”

Milt comes forward, outwardly relaxed. The catboy follows him with his eyes.

“I can remove this,” the doc indicates, pointing to the tube and cable he linked to his patient for diagnosis.

After a moment of hesitation, the young soldier leans against the med med and extends his arms. Milt removes the IV, and the wire connecting to the chrome arm.

“How do you feel?” he asks, but gets no reply.

The catboy is looking at Milt very intently and Kerry even catches him taking a sniff. He swallows, glances at Kerry and nods to himself like he’s reached a conclusion.

He hops on the bed and takes off his left boot. Kerry sees him manipulate the heel until a small compartment opens. He tips the boot and something falls into his waiting palm. Too curious, Kerry approaches and the cat’s gaze pins him for a second before deeming him as no threat. The experience is still jarring, but Kerry is no chicken so he comes closer anyway.

It’s another set of dog tags, and these ones are more classical, displaying the soldier’s last name, the initials of his name, blood type, the acronym “USMC” and a religious preference (which indicates “none”).

The catboy hands it to Milt, who looks at the tags with shock. Kerry takes a better look and feels his stomach fall, because the last name reads Nauman. The doc takes the little metal plates with trembling fingers and reads the rest of the data. His mouth parts around a silent sob, and it’s all the confirmation Kerry needs.

Cody was about five years older than Kerry, and he dated one of his sisters for a while, so the young man remembers him fondly. He had no musical sense, but he could talk about the history of music for ages. He was one of the coolest guys Kerry ever knew and his death feels strange. Like an impossibility.

On the bed, the catboy looks sad. His head is bowed, eyes hidden from view but his ears and tail telegraph his emotion clearly. Beside the obvious grief, there is something else on the stranger's face. Regrets, anger, guilt… A mix of all three. It distracts Kerry from his own emotions until he hears Milt’s harsh breathing.

Both young men catch the tears on the doc’s face, silently running as he continues to look at the tags, and they tense, unprepared to deal with such display of emotion. The soldier in particular looks absolutely terrified, eyes widening and panicking as he finds himself caught in the grief of a father.

“Thank you,” Milt breathes, barely hiding the sob in his voice. “Thank you for bringing me this I… How…” He stops, closes his eyes and turns away. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, before practically running out of the room.

Kerry and the catboy look at him go, helpless to help. Kerry feels tears stinging at the back of his eyes and blinks furiously. The news hasn’t really sunk yet, but it feels like a gaping hole opened inside his chest.

He is pulled out of his grief by the stray putting his shoe back on. Kerry looks at him doing it with empty eyes, and it’s only when the young man jumps on his feet that he reacts.

“You’re going?”

The other nods warily, looking at him with suspicion.

“You can’t go yet, Milt… Milt will want to talk to you, you… What happened? How did it happen?”

The cat looks distinctly uncomfortable, his face is closed off but his ears are back to being flat against his skull and his tail is rigid between his legs. He eyes the door and tension fills his body gradually, like he is seriously thinking about bolting out.

Kerry catches his wrist tightly, making the catboy twist toward him with a snarl. Startled, the other boy released him with a gasp.

“Sorry,” he mutters as fresh tears rise to his waterline. He lowers his head to hide them, chest feeling tight, like the rejection is breaking something inside of him.

The cat sighs and fidgets before circling back to the med bed, hovering uncertainly. The strange feeling inside Kerry settles, and he looks back to where Milt disappeared. He lives upstairs with his wife, and Kerry supposes he will need time alone with her to process the news.

The two young men look at each other in awkward silence, when suddenly, the catboy’s stomach grumbles loudly. Kerry smiles faintly and turns to take his guitar back.

“We should find you something to eat, c’mon.”

He gestures for the other boy to follow, and after a moment of hesitation, he steps behind Kerry.

The catboy took a tour of the flat while Kerry reheated the pasta his sister Emma made earlier. She works the night shift as a dispatcher for the trauma team’s med center, so she cooked before going to work. Kerry ate with his oldest sister Malika while the stray was still sleeping, eager to get back to watching him. The moment the leftovers are served on a plate and put in front of the stranger, he seems to forget all about his wariness and digs into the plate with abandon. It’s a bit obscene to watch, but Kerry can’t tear his eyes away; he really must have been starved. After a few bites, he slows down and Kerry can tell it’s at the price of a great effort but he seems to know that eating too fast will just make him sick. He frequently glances at his host, and during such instances, Kerry gets a better look at his eyes. They are of a rich dark brown, but the pupil is slit like one of a pet cat, and the young guitarist feels a bit like a mouse when that gaze stares at him intensely.

Kerry drinks his Nicola in silence, and can’t help but note that the catboy won’t touch his, but he drinks the tap water from the jug next to the can eagerly. In silence, Kerry observes his various bruises and wounds. Some look really gross, still an angry red, even though they can’t be that recent. Those around the arms are the most impressive: the skin there looks tender and sensitive, but not in a good way. He is also really dirty, with stripes of dry sweat visible on his torso, and he smells really bad too.

“What about a shower?” Kerry offers once the plate has been mostly cleared. The catboy tenses, looks around, seems to weigh his options before nodding with a displeased expression. Obviously, he’s not super keen on the idea, but he’s also pragmatic: he doesn’t know when the opportunity will present itself again.

Kerry shows him the bathroom before going to his room to fetch clothes: a sweatpant and an oversized shirt. Even if the cat is really underweight, his frame speaks of military training and his shoulders are wider than the average male of his age. When Kerry reappears in the bathroom, the other boy hasn't moved an iota, struck looking at his reflection and touching his jaw length black hair like he doesn’t recognise it.

“Here, that should suit you. C’mon, I’ll show you how the shower works.”

He gets the water on slightly hotter than he prefers, and steps back when he thinks everything is set. Turning around, he loses what he wanted to say, looking at the catboy standing naked under the shitty light. He is fucking hung!

Kerry’s mouth opens in surprise and he can’t tear his eyes from the tableau; they really make them perfect. The stray smiles slyly when he catches him looking and his expression deepens when Kerry blushes and averts his gaze promptly.

“Ok, I’ll leave you to it,” the host declares, passing by his guest, only to be yanked back and pushed into the shower. He stammers, winces when his head collides with the tiles, and sputters when the hot stream hits him in the face.

When he finds his bearings enough to open his eyes and takes stock of the situation, the catboy is still holding him fast against the wall of the shower, and he growls when Kerry tries to disentangle himself.

The sound prompts a shiver to run down Kerry’s spine, and he forces himself to relax, hands going lax on his sides. They look at each other for a moment before the catboy relaxes somewhat, but he still holds Kerry firmly against the wall.

“Ok,” the young man breathes, “ok I’m staying,” he says and the other nods like he’s happy he made himself clear. Kerry doesn’t really understand what happened, but sure, he can stay here, it’s just super uncomfortable in his wet jeans.

Meanwhile, the boy is back to looking at the door, like he expects to be attacked any minute and Kerry finally understands: he’s here to watch the stranger’s back while he is in a vulnerable position.

“Can I just get rid of my clothes?” he asks and after a glance and a moment of hesitation, the cat steps back.

Kerry keeps his boxers on like they are a last barrier against the strangeness of the situation, and pours shampoo in his hands before slowly raising them to his guest’s hair, stopping with a questioning gaze.

Again, there is a moment of hesitation before the young ex-soldier lowers his head a fraction and Kerry starts massaging his scalp. He keeps an eye on the door for a while, but before long, Kerry sees his shoulders drop in relaxation. Huffing out a small laugh, Kerry continues his massage and even chances to rub the boy’s nape.

It takes a small minute, but Kerry suddenly realizes there is a soft vibration under his fingers and he stills. With the shower running, he can’t hear it but he is pretty sure the boy is purring. He starts his massage again, trying to act like nothing happened, persuaded that remarking on it would make the cat stop.

Slowly, the boy raises his head and lets the water wash the shampoo away, allowing Kerry to wash the rest of his upper body. His gaze looks hazy, a far cry from the previous tension, even if he jumps a bit everytime fingers brush against his scars.

Shyly, Kerry stops when he reaches his guest’s waist, and the other boy seems to get out of his trance. He smirks and raises a challenging eyebrow at Kerry, who colors even more with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He accepts the challenge and wash the rest of his guest’s body with jerkier movements than before. He takes mean pleasure in grabbing his cock a bit too tight and even stroking it once under the pretense of cleaning it. The catboy’s expression is smug, even if he blink and jerks forward when Kerry gets to his cock.

“There, all clean,” the host declares with a glare, taking the shower head to rinse him, and making sure to direct the stream right in his face. The ex-soldier sputters and growls, but Kerry can tell he’s not really angry. They get out of the shower and dry themselves in silence.

With a head movement, Kerry brings the catboy to his room.

“This is my sisters’ room. They’re not here. Emma is working and Malika is out with her boyfriend,” he explains as they pass the door in the corridor.

At the mention of Malika’s name, the boy perks up.

“Yeah,” Kerry says sadly, “she and Cody were together for a while. He told you about her?”

The catboy nods and continues looking at the door with something of a sad expression.

“You liked him?”

A shrug, but Kerry can tell they were close, maybe a bit like what Cody used to have with Kerry. The thought brings a fresh wave of grief to Kerry, who swallows thickly and continues to his room. He will deal with the emotions later, he doesn't want to right now.

In Kerry’s small bedroom, the two guitars he owns have a prime position. The one he had downstairs is his most recent acquisition. His sisters think he bought it thanks to doing more hours at Caliente, but in truth Kerry klepped it. His sisters understand nothing about music, so they didn’t recognise the quality of the instrument. The other one belonged to his father, also a good brand, though that one is really vintage. Both are electric, and there is an amp waiting in between.

The cat immediately takes an interest now that he is not in survival mode, and Kerry wonders if he can play. He sits on his bed and pats the spot next to him before grabbing his father’s axe.

The boy sits gingerly next to him, still taking in the rest of the room, but his attention zeroes on Kerry when he starts playing. The first notes of Depeche Mode’s Enjoy The Silence float in the quiet of the flat, and despite the amp being set to medium, it sounds really loud.

The boy listens intently, ears perking and tail tense as he looks at Kerry’s fingers on the guitar’s neck.

“You know how to play?” Kerry asks, never stopping to play.

A swish of tail, and then a tiny nod.

“You know that one?”

Both ears twitch back, like he is hesitating again.

“Take the other one if you wanna,” Kerry offers and that seems to decide his guest. He grabs the axe and takes his time admiring the quality of the work. Kerry can tell he is impressed and he grins, recognising someone who knows his guitars.

When he starts playing, it’s obvious the cat is skilled: his technique is good, the rhythm is perfect, and he even adds some personal style to it. Kerry is mesmerized, and he’s clearly not prepared for what happens next.

The boy starts to sing.

His voice is low and rough, like he hasn’t spoken in a month or two, and it waivers as he tries to find the right pitch. It’s unequal, and the process looks painful but he plows through it and it’s the most beautiful thing Kerry has ever heard.

As the chorus nears, Kerry snaps out of it and starts playing again, even joining him in the singing. When they finish the song, they both linger on the last notes and Kerry can’t help but grin.

“You can speak.”

The catboy smiles smugly and winks.

“I’m Kerry,” the host says, realizing they never exchanged names.

“I know. Cody said you were like a little brother to him.”

Kerry looks down and bites his lip.

“Yeah, he really was the big brother I never had.”

His voice is rough again, sorrow making the words difficult to get out. The cat shifts on the bed, uncomfortable. When Kerry glances at him, he seems lost in thought, sorrow threatening to take him under, too.

“He was my captain. Only decent officer ‘round. He really cared about us.”

His voice is but a whisper, and when he finishes, his tail swish back and forth nervously, like he’s said too much.

“Do you have a name?” Kerry asks next, trying to bury the sadness.

The boy shrugs.

“RJL, that’s how they referred to me. But Cody called me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” Kerry repeats and the other young man stares at him intensely, a small smile lifting his mouth. The host’s expression rises to match, and the smiles transform into grins, reflecting the elation they both feel for reasons they can’t yet explain.

The moment is interrupted by the doorbell chiming. It’s Milt, asking to speak to Johnny. Taking a deep breath, the catboy accepts, ears low and tail curled around his leg. Two hours later, Johnny climbs the fire escape to knock on Kerry’s window, tells him Milt wants him to stay with him for now, until they can make him papers by taking advantage of Night City liberal regulations about cat persons. For lack of a better option, Johnny said yes, he would stay, but just for a while.

Kerry was already in bed, tossing and turning, so he scoots back to give some space to his new friend, and ignores his heart when it races as the other boy lies down next to him. They talk until the wee hours of morning, avoiding the painful subjects and concentrating on music, until Johnny falls asleep under Kerry’s attentive gaze.

In hindsight, Kerry will know this is the moment he fell in love. But right now, he knows nothing about the pain and trials they’re gonna face, together and alone. He knows nothing about what Johnny will accomplish for cat people and the world, and how extreme he will get to achieve his goals. He knows nothing about the depth of the emotions he will experience for Johnny, and the destructive devotion he will endure for him. He knows nothing about how the intensity of his love will be matched, though nearly never acknowledged by his friend. He knows nothing about how dark some days will get, but that in the end, it will be worth it. For now, Kerry just watches Johnny sleep, watches his ears twitch as he dreams, his tail curled around his friend’s waist possessively.

Wows are spoken To be broken Feelings are intense Words are trivial Pleasures remain So does the pain Words are meaningless And forgettable

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very Unnecessary They can only do harm

#silverdyne #johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #Kerry x Johnny #Johnny x Kerry #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #my writing #fic advent calendar

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shrapnelstars · 7 months

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Ooftroop and their gang posit that Afton is now a Who's Lila-esque thoughtform that physically grows over a victim that is drowned in Agony and drawn to violent acts.

They pointed out how SB and Ruin back this up, and their conclusions are pretty solid. (Though I'm not sold on the MXES stuff. I know there's something more to it, and I do agree with their observations on MXES's design similarities to Burntrap, but I'm going to wait that one out and see where the devs take it.)

This once again, however, shows how SB's botched state completely undermined any and all storytelling that the devs wanted to get across. The telegraphing of these ideas that Oof, Ember, and Evie point out is very consistent, and the core idea of Afton both literally and metaphorically being reborn through perpetuating violence and grief (Like Monument Mythos said: Grief can make you a monster) is excellent writing.

That game just tried to run too many stories at the same time. You have the Mimic being introduced as an Afton gateway and having his own separate story, Vanny and Gregory as recently freed thralls and both of their separate stories, the therapist situation where both of their stories intersect, the AI based animatronics acting up, some vaguely described disappearances that Gregory was also supposed to be looking into, Who Killed Mar Bonnie, The PizzaPlex being built over the Pizza Sim building, which was in turn built over Fredbear's, there's a lot of stuff all competing for attention on a very limited and broken stage, and it's never made clear which clues belong to which substory. Thankfully, Bonnie was removed from the table as a light sidestory that had no impact on the main story, but the others still remain to be sorted, let alone solved.

Plenty of modern games that have mysteries that they want to leave for the player to solve still have some sort of diary or quest tracker that at the very least tags which substory the clue you found was attached to. They don't even spoonfeed you the answers or drag you around by the wrist. They'll just auto-update under the correct substory header, so if you happen to sit down and read for a minute, you can realize "OH, the bent fork I found was part of Josie's Footprints Mystery, not Andy's Missing Car Mystery." Something like that. Just an organizational tool, not a mechanic that solves the mysteries for you.

#speculation #just thinking

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colorsunimaginable · 2 years

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the spare // chapter six // darkwizard!tom hiddleston x plus size reader - voldemort wins au

story summary: While one a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord’s triumph, she’s being sold at an auction with other muggleborns and bloodtraitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy’s younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance’s greatest weapons? *a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist*

words for this chapter: 2.9k

chapter warnings: ... voldemort? so none I guess

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

CHAPTER SIX:

I don’t keep track of how long he’s actually gone. I turn over in his bed moments after he leaves to get more comfortable, and became enveloped in the scent of his sheets as I fell asleep. It reminds me of a Christmas tree, but I think the actual terms are cedar and pine. I wonder if he smells like this too. I couldn’t remember what he smelled like fresh out of the shower, even though he’d literally been on top of me.

I wake from my nap with a vial being pressed to my lips. Malfoy is above me, cradling my head with his arm.

“It’s just a blood replenishing potion,” he explains softly. “I have one with essence of Dittany as well.”

I comply with taking both of the potions, knowing if he wanted me dead, he’d had his opportunity. Trying to kill me with a potion after already healing my wound didn’t make much sense.

It takes a few hours, but once I’m able to sit up, I move back to my own bed.

~*~

Over the next few days, once my wound is healed enough, I keep myself busy with more cleaning. It’s the only thing that works almost as much as Occlumency, though I’d prefer the latter.

As I make my way through the office, I find a record player and a small collection of records. Mostly names I’ve never heard of, but surprisingly there was a compilation of American Western music. Johnny cash, Loretta Lynn, and Hank Williams to name a few.

With Malfoy mostly remaining absent during the day – marching right up to his room every night too – I don’t have any qualms about turning the volume up to full blast as I continue cleaning.

There are some nights where he doesn’t come back, or when he has to leave in the middle of the night. It makes me wonder what kind of errands Voldemort has him doing.

My meals are still appearing out of the blue. Since the first dinner, it’s been three meals a day. I have no clue where they’re coming from, and I’m worried that if I ask, I won’t get a straight answer. Just some grumblings about being ungrateful.

I have the idea to eat out on the patio for lunch. As I’m sweeping the back patio, humming to the music drifting out of an open window, I feel eyes on me again. Pausing, I scan the yard. I nearly jump out of my skin when something soft brushes against my legs. I look down to see a white long haired cat, staring back up at me with bright blue eyes.

“Oh, hello!” I say, an octave higher than usual. The cat continues to rub against me and I bend down, holding my hand out for it to sniff before I pet it. “You scared the shit outta me.”

It meows in response.

“You must be who that little door is for, aren’t you?” I say as I go lower, crouching. The cat meows and shoves its head into my waiting hand, purring. “You are such a cutie.”

Another meow.

“Y’know, I remember seeing a can of cat food in the cabinet,” I continue with the baby voice. “Is that what you’re after?”

I straighten and go into the house. When I come back, the cat is patiently sitting in a patio chair, and I can’t help but smile. I open the can and place it on the table, watching it eat. After a moment I go back to sweeping, fully singing to the song playing now.

After a while, my lunch appears in the kitchen, and I join the cat on the patio. It’s food long gone, it’s sun bathing in the chair that I sit next to.

“I think I’m going to call you Sam,” I say between chews of a chicken salad sandwich. I pull a piece of chicken off and offer it. “How do you feel about that?”

Sam meows and accepts the chicken, purring once more.

“Well, Sam, I’m so glad to have you here. It’s been a bit lonely. I’m Melisa. Everyone says Melissa, but it’s Mel-LEE-suh.” I sigh and look away. “I know you’re a cat and it doesn’t matter what I’m called, but I felt you should know.” When I look back, Sam’s looking at me, tail swinging gently, and I smile at the cuteness overload.

~*~ That evening, I’m sitting in the living room. Sam had ventured off into the woods hours ago, and tired of cleaning, I’ve decided to read. The office is where all the good books are kept, and I’ve found an old copy of Pride and Prejudice. When Malfoy comes home, he does indeed do what he normally does, goes upstairs. But instead of going into his room, he barges into mine. I jump up from my seat curled on the couch and follow him. I find him digging through the wardrobe. “What-“ I start to ask. He throws a silk dress at me. I quickly hold it up before me, my eyes widening. “Put that on,” he says, and begins to leave. He pauses at the door. “The Dark Lord requests your presence.” “Oh,” is all I can manage to say after a moment through the panic washing over me. “I’ll be downstairs.” With that, he closes the door. With shaking hands I hold up the burgundy dress he wants me to wear. Terror runs through me as I realize it’s not even a dress. It’s practically lingerie. Even after I finish tying the wrap skirt under the bust, I feel naked. The spaghetti straps are tight on my shoulders because of the weight of my breasts in the cups. I’ve never worn anything like it before. For shoes I find a pair of simple flats. I leave my glasses on the night stand. As much as it pains me to leave them, I didn’t have them before, and it wouldn’t be good to have anyone questioning them. When I go downstairs, I expect Malfoy’s eyes to be averted, or if he is looking, I expect it to be in disgust. Dressed in this, I’m sure I must be a sight. His eyes are on me immediately upon my arrival into the living room. They trail over my bare shoulders down to the lace v-neck. I blush, knowing with one good jostle they’d be popping out for all the world to see. He clears his throat. “Did you miss the heels I picked for you?” he asks curtly. I raise my chin and keep my arms at my side, fists clenched. “I did,” I calmly respond, my eyes on the ceiling. I’m the one having a hard time looking at him while dressed like this. “But if you wish me to remain upright and not fall flat on my face every few steps, you won’t make me wear them.” He considers for a moment before sighing heavily. “So be it.” I follow him outside to the gate. He grabs my arm, fingers pressing into the tattoo, and pulls me through the barrier. There’s a flash of heat as he does so, and then it’s gone. Without letting go, he Disapparates us. We arrive in the village that sits outside Hogwarts that I don’t remember the name of. I’m struck by a cold wind and I hold my arm up over my breasts to hide that my nipples were now poking through the thin material. Without thinking, a warming sensation comes out of my chest, washing over the rest of me. I try to hold in my shock. Did he do that? No, he didn’t say anything. Was it me? I’m shocked when I remember it’s been a few days since my last magic suppression potion. Maybe I’d been so preoccupied with keeping busy that I hadn’t noticed my magic slowly coming back. What a fucking moment to realize that. I take a deep, steadying breath as we walk through the gates of the small village. There’s frost spread across the ground like it was a crisp morning. I can see my breath. Shadows are moving across the ground overtop the frost, something under the moonlight. I look up and gasp, nearly stumbling in terror at seeing thousands of Dementors flying above us. I’d only seen them from a distance during the battle, so when one swings down to hover near us, I press towards Malfoy. “Stay still,” he orders, his grip tight on my arm. The Dementor’s mouth is open towards me, sucking at the air and my essence. Malfoy stares directly into the Dementor’s hood. This seems to be enough for the Dementor to retreat back up into the air with its companions. He doesn’t have to tug very hard to get me walking again. I stay close by his side as we walk through the gates leading up to the castle. We pass Death Eaters in pairs of two guarding the edge of the forest, nodding to Malfoy. I’m grateful they don’t make a comment on me or my appearance. Scattered about the dry grassy areas are smoldering burn piles, the smell of overcooked pork hangs in the air, and it’s not until we pass close by them that I see blackened limbs and skulls. Tears fill my eyes. I feel like I should look away, but I can’t bring myself to. Two hooded guards stand at the front steps of the castle, and I keep my eyes down as we pass. The Great Hall looks nothing like when I first arrived here with Bill and Fleur from their cottage on the beach over a week ago. Among the remaining rubble is a skeleton of a toothless basilisk, I assume it’s the one I remember hearing about when I first met the Golden Trio. He must’ve destroyed the rest of its venom teeth. It lines the room as seating for Death Eaters. At the front of the Hall, Voldemort sits on a throne of bones. His wand, the elder wand, is gripped tight in his white hand. His eyes narrow as we approach. Malfoy stops us before him, making us kneel in a puddle of sticky dried blood. While he bows his head, I stare up at the monster on the throne, seeing him in person for the first time. “Melisa Alder,” he spat. My heart rate rises as at the correct pronunciation. Who’s mind had he been into that he heard it correctly? “Come all the way from America to defeat me.” He stands, coming down from his throne to circle me like a vulture about to descend for his prey. I stare at the floor in front of me, waiting for him to stop, prepping my mind for the assault I know is coming. With my returned Occlumency, I block every single thing I know about Horcruxes, about his Horcruxes. Hiding my reason for traveling to a whole new country to defeat him and to avenge Sam. I hide my important memories behind twisted copies of them, imagining false narratives meant to look like the real thing. Instead of the need to find and kill more Horcruxes, in its place is a drive to simply defeat evil. An inflated sense of self-importance of my abilities that drove me across the ocean to join the fight. I found the Golden Trio on accident, and I’m here just because. “Look at me, mudblood,” he demands, and I obey, my hazel eyes meeting his blood-red ones. Immediately, the assault begins. Voldemort rips through my mind, bringing forward the exact memories I knew he would search for. He almost loses interest when he comes up empty, finding nothing to lead from one memory to the next, but when he sees me doing wandless magic, he focuses on that. It carries him through most of my life, he only pauses to watch the moments where I’ve displayed incredible magic. Like transfiguring my parents car into a boat mid-air on the rainy summer night we drove off a bridge into water or smothering a fire that had engulfed our dorm during my third year at school by making the oxygen disappear from the air around it. The only memory I’m surprised he looks at is where I’m 14, in the mind of a classmate, making him forget that I had asked him out and he had turned me down so we could keep being friends without things being weird. The embarrassment of him seeing it makes me slip, my Occlumency pushing him out. Realizing this, he forces himself back in and slashes the memory apart until it doesn’t exist. He makes the attack painful, and I hear the echo of my scream when he finally leaves. “You need to strengthen your magical suppression potion, Malfoy,” he hisses, white lips curling to reveal yellow rotting teeth. The hand still gripping my arm tugs me off balance from my kneeling position and I’m forced to steady on Malfoy himself. His free hand cups my jaw, fingers digging painfully into my cheeks. My eyes are wide as I take in his face this close. It’s furious. “You dare embarrass me in front of our Lord?” he seethes. With a hard shove, I get slammed into the cold stone floors. When I look back, Malfoy has his head bent towards Voldemort, apologizing profusely for not being more diligent. He sighs in annoyance, waving his hand so Malfoy may stand. “I’m not interested in your apologies. Just see that she is suppressed properly. Have you taken her?” “Not yet, my Lord,” he replies. He turns his head, lifting a brow towards me. My head aches as I stare into his cold eyes. A blush rises to my cheeks. “It’s been difficult finding the stomach for it.” Voldemort cackles. “Obviously.” He waves his hand again, speaking to everyone. “Leave, I need to speak with Malfoy on private matters.” The audience of Death Eaters quickly clamber out. A nameless one pulls me to my feet, holding me back as Malfoy approaches. Malfoy yanks the hair at the back of my head, tilting my face up, and a small unwilling whimper escapes. He upends a vial into my mouth and shoves my jaw closed. The hand on the back of my head coming around to pinch my nostrils, forcing me to swallow the minty potion. “I’ll come collect her,” Malfoy says, turning back to Voldemort. The Death Eater and I are one of the last to leave the large room, and I hear “the blood traitor” as the doors close behind us. The Death Eaters weren’t waiting in the corridor. I guess they’ve dispersed to their quarters, this evening’s festivities over. My guard brings me over to the stairs leading to the rest of the castle, and forces me to sit. I slide out of the way to sit with my back to the cold wall. Surprisingly, the young guard sits down on the step in front of me, too. He doesn’t have a mask, so I can see his brown eyes clearly as they slide over me. I look down, eyes widening at all of my exposed cleavage. Sitting like this, most of my left thigh is exposed as well. I pull the wrap closed as much as I can and cross my arms over my chest, cradling my breasts. It kind of hid them, but it also gave them more cleavage. He continues staring for a few lengthy minutes. “The fuck are you looking at?” I ask, forcing my voice not to shake. “We all thought Thomus was mad when he bought you,” he says, chuckling. “I wonder if he’d mind if we all took a turn when he was done… Quite enough of you to go around isn’t there?” He reaches out and twirls a lock of hair from my collar around his finger, fascinated. “I’ve never seen hair as pink as this.” “If you wanted to fuck her,” Malfoy says, startling us both, “you should have bid on her, Montague.” I look over, amazed to feel relief wash over me. Montagues hand disappears and he shoots to his feet. “I was only looking,” Montague says. “Refrain from looking in the future.” Malfoys voice is ice as he looks up at us. Montague glares at him, but doesn’t say anything smart. He simply turns on his heel and continues up the stairs. I wait until he’s out of sight before looking at Malfoy. He’s already looking at me, eyes and expression closed, but not unkind. He offers his hand. Compared with the evil that was just in my head, this confusing handsome man was actually inviting. To say I ran to him is a bit of an exaggeration, but nonetheless we were out the front door in a flash. With my arms still hugging my chest as we walk through the burnt grounds, I shiver in the night air, thoughts and body cold. I jump when he places his warm black cloak around my shoulders. I pull it closed, breathing in the smell of cedar and pine. The fabric drags on the ground behind us.

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annabellenaughtyprincessrose · 3 years

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My Brothers, The Lovers ❤ (Repost: Classic fanfic)

My Brothers, The Lovers *Revised version*

By Annabelle Naughty Princess Rose

Summary:I wouldn't trade my Brothers for anything in the world. SAM/DEAN/OFC. Wincest!

Rated: MA (18+)

Author notes: Hey guys! Well, I have another classic fic of mine to share. This was a little idea I had while I wrote this story, an OFC sister of Sam and Dean Winchester, and thier growing forbidden bond. So, this is a Wincest story.

This story was recently published on my Fanfiction.net, as well as on live journal, Wattpad, and WordPress page. There may be some little changes I made because the story had bad typos. (Don't judge me.)

Please note: That this story contains Wincest. If you are uncomfortable with this nature, please DO NOT read!

Lastly, I don't own any characters. The story plot was my idea. ;)

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

(Reader's POV:)

I love my brothers. They are caring. They are protective. When you're feeling down, they turn your frown upside down. If it was over a guy, they would stop at nothing to nail his ass to a wall. Any person, whether boy or girl is lucky to have them.

I wouldn't trade my brothers for anything in the world. They are a godsend. Sam and Dean: my knights in shinning amour.

We been through a lot together. Since our father died, it has been hell on earth...literally!

But no matter, we had stuck it through till the end and now we could live our lives...

A lot has happened since we saved the world from certain doom. We had one hard challenge: to learn how to live normal lives. I mean, I know it sounds stupid to do one simple thing, but come on, In our eyes, we are hunters. We were born as hunters. I don't think the three of us couldn't shake the fact that life was over. It was the only thing we knew.

But still, we somehow mange to cope with it. We settled in Kansas with the help of our father's will. We brought a house pretty much like the one you see on those commercials with the white picket fence.

It was close to the University Sam was planning to attend to resume his studies as a attorney and close to Lisa, Dean's one last stand and his possible legitimate lovechild Ben. I, myself was planning to go to a local Community College. At first, I didn't really wanted to go to school, but Sam insisted that it was serve me well later in life.

Yeah, life was perfect... at least for the half of that year. The urge of the life of freedom were still brewing inside us. We miss the life with no worries, of bills, school, kids...

So we sold the house hop into the impala and left.

About three months after, I noticed that our bond was changing. I noticed Dean would at times, would make quick glances out from the corner of my eye. I really didn't pay to much attention to it at first because I thought it was something that brothers normally do.

But now I found at night when I take turns laying next to him or Sam, at times I could have swore I felt his eyes staring down at me while I sleep.

Sam on the other hand had a very different approach. There would be times whenever me and him are alone, he wouldn't normally act like your typical big brother. He would act as though like a boyfriend. When me and him are alone, He would be a lot closer than usual. At times when I'm in the shower, I could have swore that I heard him breathing on the other side of the curtain not to mention to very tall figure I see just standing mere inches.

I guess I'm just imagination things. That's it's all in my head. Or maybe, I have a bad case of thinking dirty. Can I help it? I am not going to lie. My brothers are absolutely drop-dead gorgeous! They could get the princess of Cambridge a heat attack! I found that comment to be quite interesting! I begin to think the times when the three of us would be out, like geoceries shopping, bars,at the park. I have women rolling their eyes, whispering words about me, thinking that I was a whore for my brothers...

Nothing could prepare me for what happened two weeks later...

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy hotel. I was writing in my journal at the same time sneaking glances at Dean as he was wiping down the impala. The way he smiles as he glazes down at his baby makes me happy but a tad jealous...but he assure me that I was his main baby.

I could hear the faint sound of water coming from the bathroom. Sam,was inside, washing his god build form in the shower.

Turning my head, I couldn't help but grin as I saw a narrow view of his ass. Even after all these years, Sam still had a nasty habit about leaving the shower curtain open.

"Hey," Dean replies getting my attention. I turn my head towards him trying to look innocent."What are you smirking at?" He asks.

At his question, I raised my eyebrows giving him a side smile.

"Nothing. just a thought I was thinking." I looked up at him and I could tell he wasn't buying it. That's the thing I love about Dean, he has the sense to know whether something was troubling me or Sam...and he would stop at nothing to find out.

"About? I curious," He replies in a singing tone making me laugh.

"It's personal. My thoughts only," I winked. Finally he give up the debate and returns to his duty wiping down his impala.

Later that night, we decided to pay a visit at local bar. That day was the worst night of my life.

To be from what seemed, the only sibling with two very handsome attractive brothers was a bitch!

From the second we walk in, there were woman, whether their were in a relationship,married, or even betrayal their same-sex partner, had cornered us.

One was a blonde, who I can tell had the personality of stupid trying to seduce Dean with her luscious but totally fake breasts. While a brunette who was staring Sam down and was the bartender of the bar didn't give a damn if she had other people waiting to be served. It disgust me how women could be so depraved for a man.

I wanted to get out of there. The room felt as through it was trying to suffocate me. It hurt my heart to see I was the only one left out. To keep myself from bursting into tears, I did just that but my attempt to leave was cut short by a hand on by wrists.

Turning my head, I came face to face to a man who was pure hillbilly. He had messy hair,oily jumper and I remember that when I was at the bar, I would turn my head and he would smile at me.

"Where do you think you're going, darling?" The man asked. I can tell that he was drunk and had the slightest clue as what he was doing.

"Going home," I replied. "And I appreciated if you remove your hand from my wrist." I tried to Jerk him away but it was a useless attempt.

"I don't think so darling, You're looking very pretty there's no need for an angel face like you to scurry away..."He tried to pull me along, but I stood my ground. Then he does the unthinkable, He roughly pulls me against him loosing his balance completely falling on one of the now broken tables.

Everyone turned their heads Including Sam and Dean who immediately lest from their social gathering to my aid.

"Hey Asshole!"Dean replies as he and Sam walked over to the scene. "What are you doing with my sister?!" He began to throw insults at the poor man, while ignoring Sam's attempt to help me up, I stood up on my feet.

"I'm fine," I replied. "The fat ass broke my fall."

"Fat ass?" The man shouted. "Who are you calling a fat ass you bitch!"

"Hey!" Dean shouted. reaching down to jerk the man up by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to my sister like that!"

"What happened?" Sam asked, taking my hand and I jerked it away.

"Oh! Like you care! he was trying to rape me!" I shouted. "Forget it! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" The last thing I remember was Dean calling that fat bastard "a Son of a Bitch" before throwing punches and Sam trying to calm him down.

At the Hotel, I stood fully nude in the shoulder letting the warm water abuse my body. I was just so relieved that I got out of there.

So what I acted like a ass. So what if I act like a jealous girlfriend. I'm not going to be held responsive. I could hear the door to the hotel room opening following the distant voices between the two.

Dean was shouted some sentence that were inseparable and Sam was speaking in a mild tone. I covered my ears, to try to block out the conversation, along with the pounding of the door, but it a useless. Finally, I finished my shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and took a deep breath. I made my way out of the bathroom with my head down before glazing at the faces of my older brothers.

Sam, who now has a sad look on his face. His green eyes sparking with concern. Whilst Dean has a pissed off expression, trying his best to remain calm. There were no words that were unable to fall out of mouth. I just walked passed them and climb into to very large king side bed we shared with saying a unexpectedly surprising, I suddenly began to cry my ear out.

Almost immediately, Sam and Dean's expressions changed. If they were confused, I could say the same thing. The reason why I was crying, I couldn't understand. I was always the second tough one when it comes from intense situations, I guess with everything that we had been through together finally had took a toll on me. I see with my watery eyes Sam turned towards Dean and he nodded his head. without hesitation, they began to walk towards me.

Dean lay on my left, Sam lay on my right. They huddled up against me trying to console me. Sam was wiping away from my tears, while Dean began to rub small circles down my back.

This warm fuzzy feeling began to grow inside me. I gaze into Sam's eyes and I can see the easiness and calm in his face. Then I did the unthinkable. I reached my hand and caress his cheek and I leaned in a kiss him passionately on the lips.

There was no feeling I can't describe other than, I felt as through I explode into a million pieces. What was more shocking is that Sam didn't pull away. He gave in and began to response with my advances. Dean was anxious to show his passion. I could feel his lips on my neck, his hands trailed down to my breast giving them a firm squeeze.

I moaned in response breaking my lips with Sam replacing them with his. I tried to show my love for the both of them. Wanting to give them all of me...

Everything happen in a flash. the removing of clothes. The hot soft lips on my heated skin. The feeling of being completely filled. Like flipping a page in a book. Like riding the biggest wave and suddenly ,you're caught in the tide.I felt so much pleasure.

It felt like Heaven. It was heaven...

That was last night...

And here we are...

Today is a new day. I stare at the ceiling with a smile on my face as I felt warm naked bodies sleeping silently against me...

Nude Dean on my left...

Nude Sam on my right.

Right now, I can't say that God is pleased. Not with the events that had happened. Now, When I said I love my brothers...I love them more than just a sibling nature. I love them, I'm madly in love with them! When I think of their eyes and their smiling faces, it makes my body want to explode in fireworks.I don't care what people would say. I don't care if our father would turn over in his grave, I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world! it always will be the three of us forever...

Sam and Dean,

My brothers, the lovers.

The End.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam and dean #wincest #winchester brothers #winchester sister #samwinterchester #sam x dean x reader smut #dean x reader #sam x reader #supernatural+smut #spn smut

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flowerzchild · 3 years

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WHY I BELIEVE ELRIEL IS ACOTAR 5

DISCLAIMER: As you have read from the title, this post is strictly pro-elriel and my personal opinion. If you don't agree or don't ship them then kindly move along no need to be mean to people on the internet over their personal preferences and opinions.

THE CASE OF THE BONUS CHAPTERS

In my opinion, if you base your argument that Elain and Azriel will not be together by only using his bonus chapter alone then it is very unwise.

As it stands, Azriel’s bonus chapter is only extra content that can be not read by the readers. This is proven by its accessibility only extends for US readers, even then the book that contains the chapter is only sold by one bookstore chain so many US readers don't have the chapter unless they are engaging in the fandom.

The same goes for Feysand’s bonus chapter. Granted, there is nothing altering in Feysand’s bonus chapter except to give us a little insight into how they came to name Nyx and them discussing Elain and her potential. However, there is one major line that makes it clear Elain’s book is next.

“Let’s focus on helping one sister before we start on the other”. (FEYRE’S BONUS CHAPTER IN ACOSF)

The line above had no business to be in Feysand’s bonus chapter if Elain’s book is not next.

Why? Well, the bonus chapters are placed at the end of the book and by the time we arrive at that chapter Nesta’s story is very much told.

Like, Sarah has said, I don’t think Nesta’s journey is finished, what I am saying is that her story is been told then it will go to the other sister, Elain.

Thus, for me, those two chapters only intend to be a confirmation of Elain’s book and Azriel as her love interest.

Now, if you want to argue that Azriel’s POV is a confirmation that he and Gwyn are mates then it should’ve been included in the actual book.

What I mean by included is his apparent ‘mate behavior’ toward her or hell anything resembling romantic interactions.

Why? So that casual reader also notices there is something going on between them.

Now, what is the purpose of Gwyn being in the bonus chapter? When you look back at the actual book, you will notice one thing that is mysterious about her: her singing/voice.

Nesta reacted to her singing and so did Azriel’s shadows. No, I am not saying she is 100% a lightsinger, I am saying that her presence in the bonus is meant to give us a little clue of her power not her and Az as mates. Like I said, there should've been something romantic between them that is included in the actual book. Their interactions in ACOSF are incomparable with Elriel's interaction.

But again, we shouldn’t base our argument on chapters that many may think not exist. The main evidence of the next book should be from ACOSF itself.

ELAIN AND ELRIEL’S BOOK CONFIRMATION IN ACOSF

Elain who seemed to be very compliant and passive suddenly show the other side of herself in ACOSF that take everyone by surprise.

Elain who everyone thinks is a people pleaser suddenly talked back to Nesta when she was about to be coddled.

Elain who has been passive since the original series suddenly volunteered to help find the dread troves or anything to help resolve the Koschei situation.

Now that Nesta couldn’t find the missing trove because she lost her powers and Feyre bound by the death bargain with Rhysand, who else the inner circle turned to?

Now, that Koschei is still a threat, which female character that was from the original series side character that had a connection with him and that’s been highlighted the glimpse of change in character throughout ACOSF?

You may argue that Elain showed little development in ACOSF, however, she is set to be the main character.

If she is not set to be the main character then it would make sense for her development to be in the background of another character’s story.

A main character’s character development is a part of their narrative journey to become a developed character at the end of the story (as we’ve seen with Nesta and Feyre). Therefore, we need to read it from their inner thoughts to witness and make sense of the scenes that make them a changed character.

Also, may I add that Nesta’s development was regressing not developing in ACOFAS but her book is next, isn’t it?

Now, when we have established that Elain is the next main character based on ACOSF alone, we must now analyze who will be her love interest.

It is either to be Lucien and Azriel (Tamlin never in the equation just because they are associated with flowers and no Elain doesn’t want to be coddled she literally talked bak to Nesta when Nesta doesn’t let her scry, where do you get that Tamlain shipper?).

Let’s compare their last interactions in ACOSF, shall we?

“Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 58)

“...Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly...” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 58)

We have these two interactions between Elucien and Elriel in the same chapter as if Sarah herself wants to point out the obvious where Elain’s feelings truly lay.

I know Elriel's confirmation is probably not very convincing for some people. However, we must take into account both characters’ personalities.

If you have read Azriel's bonus then you will notice that Elain is very shy around Azriel (she was shaking and nervous when she gave his present remember?) and Azriel tends to mask his emotion when he is in the presence of others (Nesta is the one narrated their charged glance).

So yes, that scene is enough confirmation for their attraction, they are naturally quiet and shy. I expect no less from them as a confirmation especially when we don't have their POVs when we initially reach that part in ACOSF.

A POSSIBILITY OF GWYNRIEL/ELUCIEN BOOK IS NEXT?

The only way I could see Gwynriel getting a book is if their book is a novella.

As I have made a post here, Azriel and Gwyn do not have a direct (read: major) relation to the main plot that can carry it to its peak in ACOTAR 6.

Because of that their book should be a novella since nothing major happen in their book except that maybe they got together.

However, we know that the novella’s release date has been pushed back and forth and Sarah herself admitted in her March Instagram live that she doesn’t know what the novella is going to be.

So it safe to assume that the next installment will not be the novella, rather, the full book or the actual book which inherently will be Elain's and by default Elriel's.

The next book could be about Elucien if only they have interactions at all in ACOSF so that it will build up their unresolved conflict. I’m basing this argument on Nesta and Cassian’s interaction in ACOFAS.

In ACOFAS, despite the fact that Nesta and Cassian were fighting there were indeed interactions between them that must be resolved. Instead, in ACOSF the only interactions that actually happen and need to be solved are between Elain and Azriel.

“He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 59)

The thing that needs to be resolved between them is explained by their misunderstanding that happened in his bonus chapter.

Yes, I am aware that I said we shouldn’t base our argument on his bonus chapter, however, the line above is a direct callback and outcome to what happens between Elain and Azriel as well as Rhysand’s warning in his bonus chapter.

How else you’re going to explain why Azriel became more aloof than usual if not resorting back to that particular fight between him and Rhysand because of Elain? How else you're going to explain why Elain and Azriel suddenly stop interacting after they are confirmed to be attracted toward one another?

Regardless of our contrasting opinions and interpretation of Azriel’s POV, we must remember that it is a bonus chapter and those scenes in his bonus might not be canon for those who have not read it or learned of its existence.

Also, in order to speculate the next book's main character, we need to get past the barrier of romantic interactions and actually think about what the next main character will contribute to the main plot of the story.

As it stands, only Elain can carry a book by herself regardless of any romantic subplot. And because Elain’s book is next and we’ve seen close to zero interactions between her and Lucien then her love interest will be Azriel.

Elucien and Elriel have been built up alongside each other since ACOMAF, and yet only one of them that’s progressed and is being set up when it comes to the plotline. So yes, Elriel is the endgame.

#elriel #pro elain #elain archeron #pro elriel #anti elucien #anti gwynriel #azriel

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