#note that this is a different instinct than someone saying they would enjoy a show all about adrien
idk what the issue with secondary (which Adrien is not), side, or even bit characters having massive plot important parts is for some people is, it happens in media all of the time.
secondary characters have huge plot importance and interesting backstories all the time, but the only time i see people claiming someone else should’ve been the main character is when the lead is a girl. so i think there must be some unexamined internalized misogyny at play here, that we are so unused to seeing female leads that people like anon are quick to jump to “the boy should be the main character” instead of just accepting that their fave isn’t the main
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Dirty Lies
SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you.
WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off
WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]
A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…
There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.
Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.
You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.
Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.
He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.
You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.
But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.
You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.
For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.
He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.
You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.
“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”
Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.
“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.
You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.
Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.
Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.
“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”
Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”
You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.
“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.
This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”
You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”
“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.
You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”
Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.
You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”
Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”
You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.
“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”
“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”
Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”
“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.
You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”
Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?
Is that what this was? A crush?
He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.
“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”
He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.
You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.
“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.
You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”
“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.
“How should I go about telling a guy that?”
He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.
Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.
“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.
“Does he do the things you ask him to?”
“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.
He gave you a look that said come on now.
“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.
“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”
You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”
“Does he like you?”
“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”
“So… What do I do?”
“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”
“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”
“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.
“What do you mean?”
Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”
“A real man, huh?” You bantered.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Like you?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Do you like me?”
Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.
Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.
“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”
You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.
You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.
He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.
The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.
Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.
“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”
He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.
His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.
His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.
You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”
He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”
“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”
He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”
“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”
“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.
“That so?”
“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”
Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.
However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.
You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.
Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.
For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.
When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.
Joel.
Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.
You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.
It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.
“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.
“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.
“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”
“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.
You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”
He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.
You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.
“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.
“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.
“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”
He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.
“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.
“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.
“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.
You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.
“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder.
You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”
“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”
“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.
“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.
Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.
“Yep, he sure does.”
Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.
Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.
You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.
Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.
You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.
Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.
He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.
He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.
“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”
He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.
He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.
One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.
He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.
You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.
Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.
He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.
You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.
You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.
You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.
“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.
He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.
Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.
Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.
A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.
Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.
You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.
He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.
He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.
He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.
You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.
You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.
You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.
Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.
Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.
He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.
Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.
You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.
It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.
He felt ashamed of himself.
He’d known you since you were a child.
How could he ever look you in the eye again?
How could he ever look your father in the eye again?
You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.
When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.
“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”
You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.
“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.
You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”
His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”
With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”
“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.
“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”
You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”
“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.
“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.
“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”
“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.
“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”
You could just hear the smile in his voice.
“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.
He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.
“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.
“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”
Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.
“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”
“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”
You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.
Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.
If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…
He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.
You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.
Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”
She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.
“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.
“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“
Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”
“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.
You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”
“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.
“Told ya.”
“What time are you out?”
You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.
“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”
“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”
You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”
You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.
“Think you know why,” he grunted.
Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.
But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.
You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.
“I got a good one in already—“
“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.
“No, b—“
“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”
Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:
-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.
-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.
-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?
Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.
“You not working tonight?” You asked.
“No, we finished early.”
You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.
“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”
“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.
“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”
He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.
“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.
You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.
You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.
His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.
He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.
You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.
His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.
You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.
You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.
He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.
You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.
His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.
Savor it.
Taste it.
Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.
Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.
“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.
He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.
Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.
“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”
He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.
You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.
You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.
His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.
He loved it.
Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.
You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.
“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”
Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.
Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.
Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.
He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.
You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.
The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.
The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.
"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"
He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"
Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."
"Why are you actin' all shy now?"
"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."
"Know about what exactly?"
You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"
He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.
"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.
"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.
You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."
"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.
"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."
Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.
"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.
"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.
"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"
-
Read Part 2 here.
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Things i think Lucifer would do while you're dating
♥︎fluffy fluff all over, sfw
✧ i don't think there's any warnings i should put here other than me projecting onto my favourite babygirl. and very soft Luci 🙏 (my personal religion)
☆ these are purely some scenarios i like to think about often in my lil fantasy world in my head, (and yes this is still and art account i don't write much<33)
• He keeps a list of things you like so he can get them for you. He's very observant, especially when it comes to his beloved, so if he sees something catch your eye while on an outing or you've liked/shared an item on your story/ saved something pretty to pinterest (which he follows but won't admit it. it's not like he really uses the app for anything other than gift ideas for you anyway) he will keep it in mind and write it down in his notes app when you're not looking/there.
• He brings you flowers every week. He learns flower language so he can give you the most meaningful bouquets he can. When they start wilting he immediately replaces them with fresh ones, but he doesn't throw the bouquets away, he proudly displays them in vases around his study.
• You mentioned your favorite snack/sweets (that you can't find in the devildom) once in a conversation with Asmo that he overheard and since then he periodically goes up to the human world to stock up on them so you can have a treat whenever you like :)
• He asks you to do his nails one time as an excuse to get away from paperwork for a little bit and spend some time with you, and you both started gossiping and just talking about RAD, his brothers, etc, and this has since become a routine between you two, one day a week either in his room or yours you get together to sit on the floor while you do his nails and gossip
• he has awful night terrors and has no idea how to cope with them, of course he can't go telling anyone about them that would be embarrassing but he also doesn't want to worry anybody. he's the big brother he's not supposed to show any weaknesses so that his brothers have someone to rely on (shhh I'm projecting) so he distracts himself with work and music, he's lost too much sleep over these kind of nights. One night after you two had been dating for a while though he woke up in a cold sweat and while his first instinct was to go to your room there was something stopping him. So he turned to distracting himself again this time by putting on your favourite show/movie. And he continues doing this every time he has a nightmare until he feels comfortable sharing such vulnerability with you. He finds it oddly comforting even if it's a genre he wouldn't typically enjoy, remembering you talking so fondly about it gives it a different kind of vibe, sometimes depending on how exhausted he is or how bad the night terror was he'll fall asleep with it in the background.
• Takes interest in your hobbies and makes sure you never run out of supplies and new things to try out. And if he sees you eyeing anything relating to your craft or a game or ANYTHING REALLY you'll have it the next day
• Will ask you to come do your work/chill in his study while he's working as a way to spend time together, in the beginning he says it's bc you'll be able to focus better since no one will disturb you there and there's less noise but later he realises that your presence helps him be more productive so when he feels his motivation and focus slip he'll come into your room to do the rest of his paperwork next to you or if you're sleeping in his bedroom that night he'll come work at his desk there, as long as he can be near you he has a reason to finish his work faster.
• Lucifer being an exhausted older sister™️, never really gets to let his guard down so when he trusts you enough he'll finally let his mask slip and give up control for a moment (something all of us wish we could do tbh). someone go bigspoon this man he needs it.
• ^ so he likes to walk up to your/his bed after a long day and just plop on top of you in his pjs and demon form, he knows he's heavy, he knows you were reading but tbh he doesn't care he needs to be held right this instant. bonus points for you if play with his wings, scratch his head esp near the horns or rub his back. you're never getting rid of him now.
• he's so interested by everything you tell him, you wanna explain the plot of a new book in excruciating detail? tell him all the hot gossip you've been hearing from your friends at RAD/Asmo? Make him watch a 10 season long show while explaining every minor thing? go ahead, he will literally give you his full attention if he's not swarmed with paperwork. he'll remember 99.9% of what you tell him too.
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i can take it┊cl16
*.·:·. charles leclerc x oc ✦ angst ✦ song .·:·.*
note : enjoy ᰔᩚ
calista tucked herself to bed, alone once more. charles had been gone for hours that evening, and it seemed he was rarely home anymore. but tonight was different, as he had disappeared for even longer after a particularly bad race weekend. this one had been worse than before, with him losing control and hitting the barriers during qualifying. calista’s worry for his safety consumed her, pacing back and forth while anxiously awaiting confirmation of his well-being over the radio. his engineers had declared the car unfit for sunday's race, and his frustration was painfully transparent as he walked right past calista. her arms, open and full of concern, waited in vain for his embrace that never came.
as she lay in bed, the memory of how it felt when he had a good weekend was almost slipping away. good weekends were the ones where charles stayed home, and she sat with him, glancing towards him as he laughed lightly to a movie. on those weekends, she would bake cookies — thumbprint cookies, chocolate chip cookies, snickerdoodle cookies — but never oatmeal raisin. charles despised raisins and she couldn’t fathom baking them if he wouldn’t enjoy them by her side. honestly she didn’t miss oatmeal raisin cookies all that much; it was okay.
she coveted the smile he would give her after taking a bite of the cookie. this is amazing, cali, he’d say, thanks for making me cookies. sometimes, he’d even give her a kiss on the cheek - but only sometimes.
the remembrance of his touch was slipping away.
calista's ears caught the jingle of keys slipping into the front door's lock. it was as though her hearing had sharpened recently, allowing her to gauge his mood from the subtle cadence of his footsteps – the weight they carried, the haste they conveyed, or often the sorrowful drag they bore.
from where she lay, she watched his shadow make it’s way through the bedroom doorway and veer left. the dim glow of the closet light seeped through the cracks of the closed door and she can hear clothes ruffling and drawers shutting semi-harshly. he switched off the light, and passing by the foot of the bed, seemingly indifferent to calista's presence, as he disappeared into the bathroom.
the sink ran softly, interrupted by a few starts and stops before the door handle turned once more. calista's heart quickened as he drew closer to the bed. he was almost mere inches away, nearly within arm's reach. the sensation was exhilarating, like a high school crush sitting beside you for the very first time.
the other side of the bed dipped, the sheet rising as he slipped beneath it. a cold puff of air accompanied the blanket falling, sending a shiver across calista's skin. although she was facing away, she instinctively knew he was lying on his back, he always said it was better for your spine.
she shifted ever so slightly closer, not until their bodies touched, but just enough for his warmth to swirl across her skin. with her eyes gently surrendering to closure, it was as if she could finally breathe.
turning to face charles, her gaze fell down to his hand — the hand that her own perpetually yearned for. she missed his arms around her terribly. charles had changed, from the affectionate man she once knew to someone who was now distant, showing no desire for physical contact.
unable to resist any longer, she let her hand slide into his, and in that moment, everything felt perfectly aligned—the way her fingers slotted right into his, a reunion that felt natural, as if they were extensions of the same being.
she stole a glance at his weary eyes fixed on the ceiling. there was a time when she could discern every passing thought behind those eyes. he used to love that she could read his mind, articulating things he hadn't even realized he felt. yet, as she sifted through the depths of his gaze, it was as though there was nothing to grasp onto, just a profound, unsettling radio silence.
propping herself up on her elbow, she remained clasping his hand and looked further into his eyes. with her free hand, she cradled his cheek, frowning as she met his vacant gaze. tracing her thumb gently along his cheek, i’m sorry, she murmured softly, it’ll get better, i promise. he was breathtakingly beautiful, and the sight of him so emotionally distant was a wretched ache. she feared he might not fully grasp the depth of her love for him.
she gently lowered her head and planted a kiss on his cheek, something she hadn't been able to do for months. he tasted like starlight. but, the kiss ended all too abruptly, vanishing before her mind could fully absorb it. it felt as though she had just brushed her lips against his skin, yet he was already pulling away. she wasn't ready to let go of him just yet...
she scanned his face, desperately seeking any hint of reciprocation for the overwhelming love she felt when looking at him. it was a love that twisted her stomach in a way that could bring her to her knees in tears; a love that consumed her entirely. she adored every facet of him, every inch of his mind, of his soul. but when she searched and searched for even the faintest glimmer of reciprocation, all she found was the gaze of a stranger staring back at her.
she longed for her husband, aching in his absence.
charles released her hand and turned away, his words barely audible as he muttered that he needed space. he took any warmth with him, leaving behind only her profound solitude to hold her.
calista’s eyes spilled over with hot tears, rolling down her scorching cheeks. she was so enraged. she wanted to scream—she wanted him to scream, to yell at her, for him boil over and explode with rage. she yearned for him to spill out every irritation, every vexation, even if it was directed towards her. she needed him to seize anything within reach and hurl it across the room, to grab the lamp and swing it into the wall, shattering the ceramic into fragments. and if that still wasn't enough, she would have let him use her, to tear her apart with his bare hands until there was nothing left, not even anger. she craved some kind of reaction from him, any response at all, but he simply turned away.
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Not wanted (part 1)
Pairing : Daemon Targaryen x Chubby fem reader
Summer : "The silver hair of the prince was blown by the slight breeze, his purplish gaze burned with an anger worthy of his dragon. Y/n although set back could observe the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Daemon was in front of her father, Dark sister in hand."
Author’s note: hello, I post the first part of "Not wanted" now, so you don’t wait as much. Part two will probably be published during the week or else it will be two publications on Sunday. I hope you enjoy this first part. Enjoy your reading.
Trigger warning: mistakes have undoubtedly had to pass my vigilance, English not being my mother tongue they will be corrected.
Ao3 profile : Earenwen_Leafwhisper
---
There is a feeling, or will it be instinct, which tells you quietly that you are not wanted in a place, it can happen everywhere, whether in school, in the street, at work, but also in the family.
This feeling grows over time and it is not pleasant, the worst being the evening when the truth comes out. When your father is drunk with all the alcohol he has drunk since the beginning of the afternoon explains to you that you will never be born, that your life you owe to your mother who wanted more than anything in the world a child. That explains, a lot of things, like never having a "congratulations" when you achieve something, or a "I’m proud of you, I love you my daughter". No. Never, just "Did you see how fat you are?" "Stop reading", "Why don’t you read?" , being cut off at every moment, "Shut up!" followed by "Why don’t you answer me?". Little by little, all your self-esteem eventually crumbles, by a member of your closest family. There is also this question, "What would I do alone?" The moments when you imagine running away.
Being born on Westeros is not a dream life, whether we are peasants or nobles, we have our own personal hell. Yours is your father. Although not wanted, your father decided to do something with you, and marrying a second-rate lord was a good solution. His son, born of a first union, was already married to a lady from your region, strengthening the ties of the two families.
His son, he saw it differently, for him he had nothing to reproach himself. But to all the others, he was a frightful asshole, who amused himself by threatening servants and lords of smaller house than yours. Manipulating everyone around you, going so far as to threaten you, morally and physically, explaining clearly, that the day your father died, he would put you at the door of your castle. But you were just a ball and chain. Your father did not want to marry you, at the very beginning, prefer that no one speaks of you or shows interest, waiting for the coming years, he ends up wanting to see you leave with a lord, he could not see you when he was drunk, insulting you with various sentences, more or less painful, explaining that nobody would want you, the least that nothing. Deep down, he was bubbling, refusing to accept that someone was interested in you.
During the various tournaments in which he participated as spectator, he tried to find you a husband in vain, he reproached you, while it was his fault, because no lords had seen you in the flesh. The lords are trying hard to convince him to get you out of the castle, wanting to see who this misterieuse young woman was.
A date was chosen, those of the games organized by Lord Baratheon, for the adoubement of his eldest son.
---
To say that you were surprised would have been an understatement, your father, one morning sober, warned you or rather ordered you to be present at the games organize for the son Baratheon. Your mind worked very quickly, you felt fear mounted within you, your whole body became warm, your heart throbbing, you felt your blood flowing at the level of your temples, your hands became sweatly. With time you had learned not to believe the good news coming from your father because to each of them, hid a dark face, turning against you.
You instinctively understood that something was wrong. He had never wanted you to accompany the "family", you learned to appreciate the fact of not participating in banquets, the only semblance of banquets in which you had participated was in your very young childhood, during which only the houses vassal to yours participated and at the same time make your acquaintance, having seen you as a child at your mother’s side. Whether it was a courtesy visit or in the most difficult moments, you, the child who tried to do well to please his parents, but ended up seeing his father drunk, yelling at the guests who contradicted him on anything, (whether on the land or on the alcohol he ate) and who fell asleep on one of the benches aligned against a wall of the room, a knight winning up to your nurse in order to sleep safely.
As you grew up, you would stay back, observing in the dark the rare events taking place in your castle, seeing from your apartments, your brother’s wedding, do not participate in the festivities. In a sense you were grateful, you did not want to play this open-air play, where false pretenses were common, you could only wish good luck to the servants, knowing more than very well, that their work and reprimands would be much more severe than usual
Now you had to participate, was it a new way to humiliate yourself? To have you away from the castle so that your brother could make it his stronghold and abandon you in a place that you were unknown?
All possible reasons paraded in your mind, not even trying to find optimism in them.
---
The area of your family was quite far from the stromlands, the journey was long and winding, the summer was coming to an end, the roads formed of a mixture of earth and large stones, you avoided the forests anticipate the slightest attack of bandits who could have hidden in the trees and depths of the forest. You were traveling for the first time outside your castle and your father did not want to worry about looting in addition to having you nearby.
There were two carriages, in the first was your father, a mestre and his advisor. You were present in the second, more modest, made only of wood, without ornaments, made of the rest of the wood of an old carriage, a servant was at your side, helping you to sew a new dress, for the dinner in which you and your father would participate, dinner to help you find a husband. «New», was not the right word, you used fabric of old dresses that belonged to you to make your work. The jerky movements of the carriage made it difficult to sew, more than once you had pricked your fingers, fortunately there was no taste of blood spilled.
Your journey was calm, you stayed in the carriage most of the time, leaving only when you had no choice, escorted by your servant and a knight, you avoid your father, who over the days used up the small reserve of wine he took with him when you left. The less alcohol there was and the faster he started to be irritable. The slightest thing that was contrary to his desires was directly criticized, whether it was the singing of birds early in the morning, the wind blowing a little too loudly, or a knight of one’s armor needed to be oiled. Everything was a pretext for his moods, the rare moments when he was sober and asked how you lived the journey, and his drinking crises where he remembered for an eternal time painful moments for all and reproaching you, even if you had nothing in it.
---
After more than a fortnight of travel, you finally arrived on the edge of the ramparts of Storm’s End, gave you the impression of being gloomy, all its shades of dark color, made you think of the tales that your nanny told you before going to sleep. Your servant looked through the opening of the carriage opposite to yours, observing the little distance that separated you from your destination.
"My lady! Look! In the sky!"
Surprised by her sudden change in behavior, you looked, trying to understand why she had reacted in this way.
You squinted slightly, trying to look towards the clouds that were beginning to gather above the stromlands. It was just clouds, nothing new, just big gray clouds with white reflections. Whatever… There you seemed to see a darker point, moving, appearing and disappearing, moving in movements that did not seem to come from the wind. The more you concentrated, the more you had the impression that it was getting bigger and bigger. Your throbbing heart, you didn’t understand what you see.
"Sir Percival, do you see this form moving in the clouds?"
Sir Percival was a knight of of family who was loyal to yours for several generations, long before the conquest of Westeros by Aegon the conqueror. Percival seemed to be close to your father’s age, as far as you could remember, you had always known her. He had always encouraged you when you were a child doing a task that seemed impossible to you, unlike your father who always found subject to criticism.
Sir Percival mounted on his horse’s saddle, lifted his head, you could see from his profile that he was concentrating, you could see fine wrinkles forming in the corner of the eye that you could see.
“It seems Lady Y/n, that it is, a dragon.”
"A dragon?"
“Lady Rhaenys Targaryen is a cousin of the Baratheon House through her mother. It would not surprise me that other Targaryen would have been invited. Although tensions are still high between the two houses, with regard to the iron thrones. "
“Thank you Sir”
"With pleasure Lady Y/n"
When you put your head in the carriage you began to imagine how big the shape could become, what their dragon riders might look like. Lost in your thoughts, you whispered a sweet.
“Dragons…”
---
Tents stood against the ramparts of the city that was facing the castle. The long and heavy linen fabrics covered them, a ballet of color paraded on both sides of the central aisle. Shades of blue, green, yellow and other warm and cold colors contrasted against the walls of an anthracite gray. The tents closest to the doors were intended for the most noble houses and more precisely for their knights, small paths were formed between the tents, taking visitors in the direction of the tents of the vassal houses, whose tents became increasingly modest according to their ranks and riches.
From inside the carriage, you and your servant could smell scents of roasted meats, grilled vegetables and soups. The smells came from the outskirts of the enormous camp, where servants of vassal houses prepared meals on oak tables, suspended above the campfires, stood pots where various soups and stews marinated. Looking from the openings of the carriage, you could see the knights helping from their squires moving armor, swords, masses and shields towards the forges moving from the city to the camp. The noises they heard were a mixture of words, metal clapping, the neighing of horses and clogs clapping on the ground.
The coach stopped slowly arriving at the level of the places defined at the location of the future tents. Your house was not one of the largest houses of Westeros, but had known to keep its independence from the largest houses, bend the knee only in front of the Targaryen house, after several years of fierce war. Some people in your family had kept a deep resentment towards silver hair, prefer to have links with other houses in Westeros, hence their placement. Coming out of the carriage, you looked around, taking the time to remember every moment, knowing that she would risk being married to a person she did not know at the end of the games.
Your house was placed between the Stark and Tully houses. You had never met a person of the two houses, hearing of them only by the few bits of words coming from messenger or by the books about the conquest of Aegon. The people coming out of the main tent of the Stark house were preparing the beds, moving the weapon and armor racks, they too had to arrive shortly before you.
"You do not speak without permission, you do not look a lord or a lady in the eye, keep your head down, and most importantly! Don’t make me ashamed!"
The words of your father came out of your thoughts, since your departure from the castle, he had not spoken to you directly, you understood that he would not speak to you more, and kissed the head you understood that it was the best solution for the moment, no one present knew you except the knights of your house, no one would have stood up for you.
Sir Percival descended from his horse, standing beside you. He put his hand against your shoulder.
"Don’t worry Lady Y/n, I’m here."
You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the years under your father’s yoke continue to pressure you.
"Shall I wait here until the tents are up?"
"No my lady, your father allows you to go around the camp, under the supervision of a knight."
"In that case, will you be prepared to accompany Sir Percival?"
"Of course."
Sir Percival, bowed gently in the direction of the young woman, letting his young squire take the reins of his horse, helmet under his arm, the knight began to walk beside the young woman, understanding more than his lord that the young woman needed it.
---
You felt several glances resting on you, despite everything you tried to keep your head high, constantly repeating to you, that your father did not see you, that he could not have concrete proof on your posture. The lord closest to your father looked at Sir Percival, recognizing the knight who at times accompanied Lord Y/f/n, they all watched the young woman round, recognizing for the most observant, the few features she shared with her father. So she was the young woman?
Murmurs began to roam the tents, first of all the less noble houses, clearly understanding that it was their chance to assert their houses in order to win ranks to theirs. The noblest houses were the most reluctant, the lords knew enough Y/f/n to know that your presence was hiding something. Never had your father talked about you, no hint, nothing. You could be legitimate just like a bastard they knew nothing about. A union between the two families by your blood did not guarantee the loyalty of the Y/h/n family, or even your legitimacy. There was still a positive point, your house, was known to have stood up to the Targaryen, it was powerful, but the disadvantage came from one man. Lord Y/f/n Y/h/n. Your father. Who of his problems with alcohol, became one of the most detestable men of Westeros, be it his words invaded with a hatred towards any man not thinking in the same way as him, refusing the slightest annoyance, and his bad manners, he turned and farted without any shame, whether during dinners, the shawl or in interviews when they took place at night.
Some shameless lords were already beginning to want to bring their sons closer, thinking they understood that your father could be overthrown quickly in case of an alliance, but the knight accompanying you watched over the grain, He threw black glances at people who observed too insistently his protégé. Fortunately all the families present were not insistent, greeting you simply out of politeness, resuming their activities just after.
From your walk in the central aisle, you could see the affinities of noble houses from their positions, the north remained mainly between them, the south with the south and then there were some houses that did not remain according to their geolocations on Westeros, But by their wedding rings, the children came and went from tents to tents, laughing at each other in a game that annoyed adults.
Looking at them you felt a slight pinch in the heart, you had never known a real moment of innocence to play with other children except one or two children of servants who ended up punished. Only your nanny and some knights kept you company, trying to alleviate the boredom of the little girl you were.
But of all the looks on you, you could never have imagined that one of them would have made you miss a heartbeat.
---
From both ends of the long alley stood two very large tents, of red and black color. From the location that the house Y/h/n, moving in the direction of the right stood the largest and most flamboyant in its shades of red, it was almost contiguous to the large door, this one raised flags of a red tricephal dragon on a black background. Many knights and servants moved in and around the tent, but no silver heads were visible.
“The king is very weak, he must have sent fighters on his behalf for the games.”
It was Percival, who saw the curiosity in your eyes, had spoken.
“In this case, who owns the second tent? It also carries the dragon.”
Percival concentrated, trying to understand why the Targaryen could have been divided into two parts. The Velaryons stood between the royal tent and the knights fighting under the banner of the Baratheon. In this case, the crown wanted to show that the union between the houses was maintained, although the princess was not the future queen. Who was in the second tent? To this Percival had no answer.
"I’m afraid I don’t know, lady Y/n. "
“It is nothing, we will probably learn in the coming days.”
You were right, when you returned to the tent of your house, you could see the second Targaryen tent grow. Unlike the royal tent, it was mainly composed of linen from a jet black. Two banners in the colors of the Targaryen were placed on both sides of the opening. There was very little movement around, the tent seemed almost deserted.
Almost.
A snap of armor was heard, you turned around at the same time as Percival and saw several knights walking quickly in your direction, Percival just had time to grab your arm and shoot at him, preventing you from being rushed. Slightly under the surprise, you did not pay much attention to the number of knights, or even to the fact that they did not apologize. The only thing that captivated your attention was a hair color that you had never seen beyond book to screen, silver hair, your eyes very easily found those that belonged to the person with silver hair. The purple eyes were almost hypnotic, you never thought possible that it exists, it took you a few seconds to turn away, not without fighting. In front of you, a man who seemed barely older walked, he was dressed in black with small touches of dark red. If at first the man’s gaze was surprised, it was quickly changed by a smirk. You felt your breath stay in your throat, time seemed to you to last an eternity. Although in reality your exchange of gaze did not last more than two minutes.
Percival with his protective arm around you, looked at the man younger than him, he growled. He understood why a second tent was present. Prince Daemon Targaryen would participate in his games, and this no longer in Percival. The prince since the appointment of Viserys as successor to the throne, was in dispute with the royal family, rumors about his adventures in the bordelles spanked numerous as his disrespect for people he did not see as his equal, refusing the arranged marriage with Lady Rhea Royce. The rogue prince was not someone the fathers wanted their daughters to meet. Percival though merely your protector feared that the prince would fall under his spell, not for the punishment he would have had, but he only wanted to protect you.
---
On the first night, Y/f/n ordered his knights and servants to keep you inside your tent, refusing to let you speak to anyone before he begins the bargain of your future marriage. He didn’t want you to undermine his progress, not noticing your look lost in the void.
Although you could not get out of the tent, the servants kept the entrance open allowing everyone to see what was happening outside, finding agreements with the servants of the nearby noble houses to say nothing to their lords.
You were sitting near the entrance and looking out, seeing that the movements of the day had faded by the time the noblest houses had come to the opening dinner of the games. You kept hoping you could see the silver-haired man again before your father came back, but he didn’t seem to have left his tent.
This is what you believed, because under a cloak with the hood up, the young prince was out, wanting to enjoy the night outside the large camp. He saw you from the corner of his eye, a servant was taking care of your hair (long/short, thin/thick, lise/curly/frizzy, etc.) y/hair/c.
Daemon was intrigued, he had already met your father on very rare occasions, as well as your half-brother. Oh more than once, the desire for murder had risen in his mind, he could still bear the Baratheons, but these two men, were detestable. Daemon wondered who this round young woman was, having never heard of her. Something in her attracted him, but he did not know what it was and he did not like it.
---
The night gave way to the days, the first games started at dawn, the archery tournament was on the outskirts of the city, long lines of targets next to each other butted in front of wooden bleachers. Ropes prevented the peasants from meeting the nobles. Your house was divided in two, the closest to the ground you were sitting with your servant, you had to keep your head low, feeling the heavy look of your father in the back, this one was two rows above you.
Daemon, from his place, standing back from the royal family, held a goblet of wine in his left hand, he tried to keep his gaze in the direction of the archers who were advancing, but was without hope. His gaze turned away at the slightest opportunity in your direction, he could see that since night, your posture had changed. From a straight posture, you had bent the spine letting appear some curves that he had not yet seen and which did not displease him, observing what was behind you, he saw Y/f/n, of which the black look was directed in your direction, while he seemed to speak with the lord next to him. Daemon despised this scene.
“You seem to be more interested in the Y/h/n house than in the tournament, my prince.” a lord who Daemon had forgotten the name, just spoken.
"If you please, my prince, it would seem that Lord Y/h/n wishes to bride his daugther although with her age I doubt that the lords are interested, they prefer them younger."
This lord annoyed Daemon, whether by his words or by his innuendo.
“At the same time, what did he think of his daughter, she only whas the second child, and of a second wife, his son will inherit everything.”
The second child… Daemon knew what it was like to be the second, more than anyone else.
---
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Can I get a Jason Voorhees yandere alphabet, please?
Sure! I saw this as primarily platonic but it's up to you.
Yandere Alphabet - Jason Voorhees
Pairing: Platonic/Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Trauma, Violence, Murder, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Jealousy, Dubious companionship.
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
I feel Jason is very childish with his obsession. All he's known is his mother and the violent/negligent nature of this world. As a result he may cling to his obsession, seeing them as a beacon of light. Something/Someone much nicer than what he's seen.
It naturally gets more intense as he watches and pursues you, chasing that newfound comfort he finds in you.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
Messy, obviously. As a slasher Jason naturally gives into bloodlust. Although his motives seem to be more on instinct than anything.
If he sees you being hurt... he'll slaughter any who were around you in order to protect you.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Jason would not mock you. He's mute and took you into his shack to care for you. Jason's motive is to protect you from those he thinks will hurt you. Which happens to be... everyone.
He may mean well but... it obviously doesn't come off that way to you.
He's strangely caring and clingy with you, like he doesn't intend harm.
But you don't believe that.
He tries not to but while doing that he ends up forcing you into things.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Jason would very vulnerable with his obsession. He wants to show he cares to his obsession, that he sees them as family. He trusts you and his care, as strange as it is, comes from the heart.
Doesn't stop you from freaking out though.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
Confused for the most part. He doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. He thought he's being nice?
Is he not?
He doesn't mean to scare you!
No and no.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
Jason would never try to intentionally hurt you... but I'd have to say when he murders those around you.
You're simply a camp counselor trying to make ends meet. Yet you end up witnessing a masked murderer kill all who are close to you. Why?
Because he happens to "care" for you.
Jason doesn't think much about that. He just cares that he has you! He hopes you reciprocate his care in the future... with less screaming and crying.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Jason would have a very childish view on jealousy. He would lash out as he probably doesn't cope well. He wants you to himself... only him.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
Jason is more protective than possessive. He watches his obsession from a distance and notes down who you interact with. One by one he'd take them out.
He doesn't actually get to be physically near you until he kidnaps you. In his delusional mind he thinks he's doing the right thing. He's also envious of the care you give others.
Which leads to him taking you away, blood covering his hands, as he prepares to keep you to himself.
As stated above, stalks you before taking you in after a bloodbath.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
He's a bloodthirsty psychopath unless it's you, where he's all of a sudden clingy and affectionate.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
Jason doesn't really punish. He would be a bit rougher with you if he's upset, but he won't punish.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
A lot, even if he doesn't mean to.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
Moderate patience, probably more patient than most.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
He probably would have a hard time with it. Might even affect him mentally to the point of hallucinations.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
A little but no.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Upbringing and enviornment.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
He tries to comfort but isn't entirely sure how. He doesn't even understand that he's making things worse.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
Whole character is different. (I still have no idea how to answer this section.)
Reciprocating his care towards you. You'll get more freedoms that way.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Not intentionally.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
Not really a worship yandere but he would do anything for you. He feels he needs you for some sort of comfort.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
He can pine awhile until he feels rushed in his obsession. He'll have you by the end of the summer.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Not intentionally.
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….I believe this is where to drop requests….
{this is a bad batch request} I have two small prompt ideas (it doesn’t have to be both), the rest I shall leave to your artistic liberty: “Medics need medics too, sometimes.” & “our scars show how we’ve learned and grown.”
hello! i used the first prompt, i hope you enjoy!! side note: this fic is hunter-focused :)
words: 714
summary: after you get injured on a mission, you try to take care of it yourself. hunter doesn't let that happen.
clone troopers masterlist
Stubborn Medic
As you sprinted back to the Marauder, you could feel one of the droids’ blaster bolts sting your shoulder, and you just tried to ignore the pain until you were on the ship. Hunter ran up the ramp after you, and soon Tech was bringing the ship into hyperspace, setting course back to Ord Mantell. You felt the pain in your arm begin to amplify as you set down the bag you were carrying and immediately headed towards your bunk, not even bothering to say anything to the rest of the batch.
There was a medkit that you kept under your bunk, a small and simple one for when you didn’t want to have to go through the trouble of finding the larger one you kept around for more serious injuries. You knew that there were a few bacta patches in the kit, and you really hoped that those (along with a day or two of rest) were all you needed to get yourself feeling better again. You changed into a tank top and began to look through the kit, gathering everything you would need to clean and cover the injury.
As the team’s medic, it didn’t feel right to ask for anyone’s help, because you were the one who was most qualified to handle it. You know they would help you if you said something, that wasn’t the question, but you still felt a little bit useless sometimes on the ship, especially because all of the others had such useful enhancements. Half the time, the scrapes and bruises that the team sustained were so minor that they were able to patch themselves up, and you wondered why you had been assigned to them as a permanent medic.
Right as you had finished cleaning the wound (to the best of your ability, because it was in a bit of an awkward location), you heard someone step into the room and Hunter’s voice fill the space. “What are you doing?”
“I got hit with a blaster bolt out there,” you said matter-of-factly, as you peeled a bacta patch off its paper. “I was just patching myself up.”
“Did you clean the wound?” Hunter asked, and you looked at him like he had grown a second head as you held up the medkit’s cleaning wipe. “Because there’s still some blood on your arm.”
“Oh,” you said, mentally kicking yourself for not doing a better job. “I’ll just-”
“Here, let me help you,” Hunter said, taking the wipe out of your hand and gently running it on the skin surrounding your wound. You were about to protest, but it was all happening so quickly, and the feeling of the antiseptic against the raw skin made you wince.
While you couldn’t categorize the relationship you shared with the squad’s sergeant, it was certainly different than the one you had with the rest of the squad. “Mesh’la,” he said, his voice quiet as he took the bacta patch from your hand and started to apply it to your wound. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”
You sniffled, and whether it was from the pain or the emotions you were currently feeling you didn’t know. “I thought I should be able to handle it myself,” you responded. “It is my job on this squad after all, and you don’t need to worry about me.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I’ll always worry about you,” Hunter said, and he sat down next to you on your bunk. Instinctively, you leaned into his side. “And medics need medics too sometimes.”
“I know, but I thought I could handle it.”
“I’ve seen you patch up injuries way worse than that, so there’s no doubt in my mind that you couldn’t, but I wanted to help you,” he said. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and you nearly combusted into flames right then and there. “You should get some sleep, sergeant’s orders.”
Maybe on another day you would have argued a little with him, but the excitement of the day and the adrenaline rush from the mission had long since worn off, and you were really tired.
As you drifted off to dreamland, you couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on your skin.
- the end -
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Are blind people less likely to have an aquarium pet? Like fish? There are many reasons to have such a pet, such as a sense of responsibility and routine, or companionship.
However, aquarium pets are normally to be looked at, so I wonder if blind people are less likely to get them? There are limited ways to interact with aquarium pets beyond just looking, but most blind people have a little vision so I wonder if seeing movement and shapes is enough, or if a pet you can't interact with is uninteresting?
(Context: my writing project involves a vampire maybe getting some pet leeches for bloodsucking solidarity. The vampire was once a dead body, so has thick corneas similar to Fuch's Dystrophy and is therefore blind - does this mean it's unlikely he'll get an aquarium pet?) Also thanks for running this blog! Very helpful advice!
Blind People And Aquarium Pets
I find the idea of a vampire character having leech pets to be kind of cute.
According to my research, Fuch’s Dystrophy involves blurred and distorted vision that worsens over time. I also imagine that if the vampire lives longer than humans, the condition would have the opportunity to worsen even more unless he is unchanging or physically frozen in time. There is a chance the character may have some vision, as you know many blind people do. This vision could be used to enjoy an aquarium pet.
Most blind folks I know prefer pets they can feel or hold close to them, although this might actually be a preference for furry / fuzzy things. I see no reason why a blind person or character couldn’t have an aquarium pet even if they couldn’t see at all. For your purposes, such as solidarity with a similar creature, it sounds fine.
In addition to most blind people having some vision, people still get pets for a variety of reasons. Maybe some people want pets that don’t require a lot of attention. Maybe they happen to have a special interest in fish, for example, and enjoy having a pet fish despite not being able to see it well or at all. Or perhaps they can see color and enjoy brightly colored fish. Wanting brightly colored pets might limit them to fish or birds. Maybe their apartment only allows aquarium pets. The possibilities are endless. While some blind people may find the idea boring, I’m sure there are some people who would enjoy an aquarium pet for different reasons. And while my first instinct is to say that it probably wouldn’t be as likely a choice given how blind folks interact with touch, it isn’t impossible either, especially because people are all different and need different levels of pet interaction. If you are unsure about it, there is no harm in also including other blind characters with pets in the story.
I think as long as you consider accessibility the way you are now, it’s fine. Showing the reasons he chose an aquarium pet will help make it more clear, as well as display agency and his own unique needs. Also, a character making the choice to adopt an aquarium pet is very different from someone else choosing a pet that may be inaccessible to them.
I would love to hear from other blind folks. What are your thoughts on aquarium pets?
Edit: In the notes and tags, people are sharing both the experiences of having brightly colored fish with some vision, as well as the sensory experience of having an aquarium or pond. Someone has also shared that for your purposes, leeches can be handled and touched without incident. So leaning into the sensory experience will also help and make for interesting writing material.
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Undead Unlcuk ch.186 thoughts
[Just Like Mama Used to Make]
(Contents: thematic analysis - artistic expression)
Before I say anything else, I just want to note how hard that one bystander saying "what the fuck?" made me laugh. That killed me. With how much wild shit the Union gets up to, it's refreshing to see someone not only witness it, but actually acknowledge it. I still wonder how the audience for Feng's martial arts tournament reacted to all of the weird fights
I also want to point out that in this loop, Enjin's iconic ripped hat look is created from him being thrown through the wall of his mother's hospital room. I'm sure there was some cool story to it originally, but nope, this time he just...biffed a landing, s'all. As usual, no dignity in this series
Onto the chapter, I figured that this chapter was going to continue to expand on the idea of togetherness using food as a symbol like last week, but nope! We're movin' on! Instead of examining how the act of eating can deepen bonds, this week we're examining the difference between mass appeal and individual experience
Enjin's ramen, made with refined technique, is "objectively" good food that pretty much anyone will say is tasty, but aside from the opportunity for custom orders like "extra toppings" or "light on the X," the overall dish is always the same. Without any direct input, Enjin will always produce the same meal, with the expectation that it's so high quality that no one could possibly dislike it. This approach is not necessarily wrong, as consistency is an important factor in food service, but it does mean that if there's any one factor that any one customer doesn't like, they won't end up enjoying it because it doesn't match with their personal taste
It's kind of like if a manga starts out with one of the main leads sexually harassing the other. Sure, the manga as a whole may be great, possibly even the best among its contemporaries, but some people just aren't going to be able to get past that initial bad taste in their mouth. No matter how good the end product is, someone is going to slip through the cracks
Someone isn't going to be able to stand how hot the broth is, someone isn't going to like the mushrooms or the bamboo shoots, and someone isn't going to appreciate seeing a girl get groped by a man whose dick is flopping in the wind. This is an unavoidable truth in the creative process: there is no such thing as perfect. There will always be flaws, and there will always be detractors, but there will also always be fans willing to stand by the art and declare that it's their absolute favorite
This is where Fuuko's ramen comes in: even if only two people out of...what, fifty people(?) liked it, what matters is that the person it was meant for liked it. The point was to show Enjin that no amount of refinement would be able to capture everyone's hearts, but any amount of consideration would capture the heart of the one person it's meant to. Luckily there was another person present who fit in that same niche to drive the point home, but even without that child, I think Enjin would have gotten the point
When it comes to art, you sometimes need to ignore the instinct to try to appeal to anyone and instead focus on creating the thing that you want, the thing that will make you happy. You will run the risk of alienating basically everyone, but by being honest and forthright in how you express yourself, you'll eventually find someone who your work truly resonates with
Fuuko's touch-starved isolation, Andy's hedonistic depression, Billy's stoic responsibility, Rip's dual loves...these aren't things that everyone can relate to, even if they can sympathize. But to someone who feels isolated, who tries to fight against crushing despair with a plastered smile, who bears the weight of the world on their shoulders, or knows what it's like to love more than others say they should, these things will all ring true, and make that reader feel like someone, somewhere finally understands, like someone said all the things they wish they could if they only had the talent or the time
To me, this chapter isn't about cooking, it's about the act of creation. It's about the act of sharing your soul with the world around you and knowing that you resonated with even just one person, and knowing that that one person's world has changed for the better. It's about the act of receiving a piece of someone and being able to smile back at them, telling them that the message has been received
Maybe this won't be what anyone else sees. Maybe this chapter will come across as lukewarm to somebody, maybe even to most people. Maybe it was mediocre at best to someone and they'd prefer something with a bit more of a kick. But someone, maybe just one person, was able to really sink their teeth into this one and savor all of the ingredients, the love and the care that went into creating this piece. Someone was moved to tears, and someone looks at the world just a little differently now thanks to this chapter
Until next time, let's enjoy life
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WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM 😭😭😭😭 WHAT A THING TO WAKE UP TO!
-☀️
Oh my god thw wings being a physical manifestation of how Mumbo doesnt know Grian anymore. He is an entirely new person, definitely mentally, technically physically-- even if he looks the same. Mumbo honing in on the wings ("his wings ruffle...behind him" "it's a foreign motion...that escapes translation") that are the thing that's different and needs a "map" drawn of it, because it's the only thing that's actually different. Sure, Mumbo can tell grian doesnt even act the same anymore, but that's much harder to put a finger on. He didnt have those wings before.
^I like to think there's some form of uncanny valley effect that people who knew Grian before feel looking at him now, ignoring the wings.
-☀️
"Then he smiles, porcelain teeth flashing in the glistering sun.
The cold, open pit of his depthless eyes fails to catch it."
Really fucking love this description ough
-☀️
"“You’re not supposed to change me back!” Grian shrills, bristling."
IT'S TOO EARLY IN THE MORNING FOR THIS TEM WTF (it is past 10am)
-☀️
"with the exquisite delicacy of a Player"
I SEE YOU YOURE NOT SNEAKY
-☀️
The wings again!! *is in distress* (side note i love seeing the world building youve been telling us about finally in the fic!!) Ok this actually makes the way Mumbo focused on the wings mean so much more. Wings are dangerous to code in, thats why Players use spotters. Grian vanished from Evo and showed up on Hermitcraft YEARS(?) later, without a word to anyone, and reappeared with those wings. Imagine going on a trail with a friend whose never hiked before and then they stop responding to your messages only to show up again after a couple of months like "Hey I just climbed Everest". You would most definitely be distressed to say the least. (although, question: how proficient was grian's coding?)
-☀️
Man this one-shot. Too many feels this early in the morning 😭 The way you've managed to capture that sense of unease around Grian. His actions are unpredictable- you dont know if he's going to laugh or get upset- really nicely encapsulates Mumbo's internal feeling that he doesn't know grian anymore. Those moments where he laughs or stares with those blank eyes, those are normal-- but linger a second too long, or catch a glimpse of the worlds that have passed since Evo started-- and he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with Grian
-☀️
AAAAAAAAA HI SUN ANON!!! omg im so glad you enjoyed the oneshot!!! :D
Omg YES im so so glad what i was aiming for with the wings came through, thats exactly what i was going for!! This is the only physical indication that Grian has changed, and therefore the most distinct!!! Ofc Mumbo is gonna hone in on that-- its the clearest aspect he can see. And yeah, i think the first few times people saw him with the wings, it was definitely a little uncanny valley, until they got used to it
OKAY I'LL BE REAL THE EXQUISITE DELICACY BIT WAS NOT INTENTIONAL BUT IS A VERY HAPPY ACCIDENT ALDJWKDNEKNDKDE altho i did really enjoy messing with some wordplay in other areas. My particular favorite is the "inner machinations of a dropper" line-- it was such a fun way to refer to mechanical parts while simultaneously making it sound like the dropper is up to no good 😂😂😂😂😂😂
It was super nice to really put this aspect of the worldbuilding into the fic-- one of these days i'll probably rewrite chapters 1 and 2, and maybe do a little editing on 3, just so i can sorta bake those concepts in there with a little more deliberation than i did when i was first posting :] BUT YES altho its not so much dangerous (for a Player, at least) as it is difficult, and very finicky. Grian's coding is super proficient as a Player (he's still working on melding the instinctive coding of the Watchers with his Player brain tho), so he was always very capable of it, but like you pointed out, under normal circumstances he would have 100% asked someone to be his spotter while he coded them in, just in case he bugged out
And yep, we're talking a timespan of years here!!! This is a bit loose, so its subject to some minor changes, but my general timeline is that Grian, once Watcher-ified, was trapped with the Watchers for about 2-3 years before he made his escape. After that he bounced between hubs and servers for a few months, before ending up on Hermitcraft to stay. The fic itself takes place somewhere around early mid-season, i think-- since i headcanon each season to take place over a few years rather than a few months, i'd say this means Grian has been with Hermitcraft for, oh.... a little under a year now by the time this fic takes place, if that makes sense. Again these are not concrete but thats the general timeframe we're talking here. I'll probably make a separate post about this later, but in Player culture its not SUPER weird to go gallivanting on your own for a few years-- but the complete radio silence and abrupt exit from Evo are what make this notable from the norm to Mumbo and everyone else who knew Grian before
Im so deeply and genuinely happy that the sense of unease came across so well-- i was admittedly worried that the pacing was a bit fast for how Grian's reactions kept turning on a dime, but this reassures me that it works :] i wanted it to really feel like this is a familiar stranger we're looking at through Mumbo's eyes, and also i wanted to give Grian some room to display those uglier trauma symptoms that nobody talks about much in fiction. I like to think that first year back on Hermitcraft was a difficult one for him, mood-wise, because behind that rough facade his brain is about as scorched-earth as it fuckin gets
Sun anon i always ADORE your analysis thank you so so much for sending them 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 it makes my day every time, truly. Im so glad you liked the fic!!! :D
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Fic Notes
Just typing them out since there's a lot and it's easier just to type it, and better for anyone who has a hard time just reading/needs a screen reader
Super long so, enjoy <3 If you wanna do stuff with any of this you can, just leave credit or a note to me if you take heavy/direct inspo and stuff from it
Early game/kinda set-up stuff: Scar talks to Grian being like "hey man. You seem stressed and territorial, you good? Oh. Oh you have a refugee, okay cool. Can I give him cookies?"
Taurtis and Pearl are besties bc I say so. Pearl's favorite past time with him is picking his brain for stuff that he's seen but she hasn't before, and they bond over liking weird alien stuff. She shows him her collection and 1.18 update investigation room.
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Scar "you can't keep him in your house forever, G."
Gri "And why not!"
Scar "He's a person! How would you feel if you were holed up in someone's house and not allowed to leave?"
Gri "Shut up." (Cause, yknow, Sam locked him in the basement for three days that one time)
(Taurtis wouldn't actually be unallowed to leave, Grian would just be wary and anxious and paranoid about it)
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Late night bed talks. One being where Taurtis asks "Grian, am I funny?" and G goes "Yeah, you're really funny. What, did you make a lame dad joke today?" And Taurtis pauses a bit before rolling onto his side, facing away and responding "Oh yeah, it was a super lame joke." And Grian kinda catches on that, hey this is weird behavior for Taurtis, and decides to confront him about it, hence these lines:
T "What, am I just comedic relief to you? Is that still all I am?"
G "You've always been more than just a joke, don't say that."
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Mid-game: Scar's "Hey man you're a bit off" turns to "dude you're extremely bad right now. You need to relax. It's okay. Chill pill, my dude." And Grian is a stubborn bitch that keeps pushing his help away, so Scar tries to get Taurtis to help him with Grian.
Winter hits and Grian spends most of his days sleeping due to instincts, or something, idk it's an excuse to make him sleep and have Taurtis be crazy amounts of domestic with him. Taurtis "accidentally" makes too much breakfast to finish on his own so he wakes up Grian to share it with him. (He called Scar to see if he'd want it, not wanting to wake Grian, but Scar told him it'd be good for the pesky bird to have a meal before sleeping more)
Grian starts seeing shit due to his stress and the fact that the watchers have been following Taurtis this whole time without him realizing up to a certain point. Inspired by me seeing the foggy moon and going "huh that looks like a watcher eye." Thank you, Grian introject moment, pogchamp.
Xisuma starts asking people during casual chats if they've noticed anything different about the server. When he asks Grian, G lies and says he hasn't when he knows the watchers have found a way to get to Hermitcraft too, not wanting to expose himself and risk being looked into deeper from before joining HC. They know him and Pearl were in a server before, but not that it was a server full of watchers and eventual destruction. This causes Grian to get more stressed, develop worse insomnia, and try and figure out a way to send Taurtis home faster. He tries to ignore the inner misery and prioritize the safety of everyone else, but internally struggles with reassuring himself that Taurtis will even be safe after leaving.
Grian starts using his watcher powers when alone to influence the others to do things, just to show the other watchers that he's doing his job and they don't have to stay. They aren't convinced until him and two other watchers have a direct confrontation, in watcher forms rather than their human-esque forms, maybe spend a whole chapter showing their conversation before Xisuma locates where they are due to the heightened levels of their presence, confronting Grian now about what he was thinking and why all of this is happening.
Grian finds out that the other watchers lurking over the server managed to gain enough control to start forming an evo portal, finding it half finished and deciding to use his own control to make "clues". The clues are fake and only there to steer Taurtis away from the portal, but the other watchers change what Grian's clues say to lead him towards it no matter what. Taurtis sees the portal behind an evo symbol and gets mad at Grian, thinking he's tying to send him back to evo to be alone like he was before. (I didn't watch evo, just wanted to find a way to make it appear like Grian abandoned him from Taurtis's perspective.) Grian tries explaining himself, but Taurtis is done listening.
Taurtis starts showing more obvious signs that his sense of confusion from the down under has caused occasional confusion to places he's in, even if he's been there long term. Just a lil, lil somethin, y'know?
Grian's psychotic (literally) and Taurtis is autistic. Not mid game but just had to put that out there.
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Long game/end game: (omg just like avenger's end game- shut up. No. Stop.)
There's a sort of banquet to celebrate the ending of season nine as they progress into season ten.
Taurtis has to face the truth that he's never wanted to leave in the first place. He had to accept that fact mid game, but here he has to say it outright to Grian who's absorbed himself into figuring out every nook and cranny and function of that portal, so much that the skulk and purple has grown more on him.
The purple area spreads more on his right arm since that's the one he stick into the rift after activating the portal again. Something that's noticed overtime as he continues experimenting on and interacting with the rift and the area it was at in general.
-----Additional Notes/How Watcher presence affects players-----
A large amount of Watcher presence will cause listeners and the watched to feel paranoid, sick or uneasy. The more watching them, the worse the effects are. This is how Grian connects the rift's sudden behavior change to the watchers, Mumbo pointing out how he's felt the past few days one night while researching and experimenting on the portal with him.
And then this all was going to lead up to an additional fic to the series where they'd have to do a life series to satisfy the Watchers's need for violence, but the watchers found a way to strike a deal with Sam to make things more interesting, and Grian and Sam end up being soulbound for it with Grian barely winning by killing Sam in the end after everyone else has died out.
Similar to Double Life, but would have more stakes and need for staying close to soulmates as well as different effects and changes to players with the loss of lives and distance between soulmates.
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I saw u mentioned something about MC and hang going to the beach for their road-trip and I just think that is a wonderful idea!!! Aaahhhh everyone looking absolutely amazing in their swim gear, just so cute!!! (Unfortunately Sage will probably be dying bc he refuses to make the moves but c’mon man, you can do it!!!) anyways I hope you have a lovely day <3
I've got like,, several different directions that people wanna take this series in so I'm gonna have to start labeling things as alt routes lol. Let's call this Part 3 and this can kinda be where things branch out.
Roadtrip Part 1
Roadtrip Part 2
GN!Reader, SFW (there will be an alt NSFW addition whenever I get it done), someone gets chased by seagulls, I wanna do a general beach post soon
After a couple days of driving (and plenty of sitting on Sage's lap, much to his chagrin) you guys come across a cute seaside town. It's a good place to make a stop and recover a bit (and let Lucan and Balsam catch up to you guys, since they left later than you guys did. Elowen says that's the reason she opted to drive with you all instead of waiting for them, but really it's because she wanted to help with The Plan), so you guys decide to spend a day there and leave the following morning.
(Un)Fortunately you and Sage shared a two-bed room last night, so no sleeplessness there. I mean maybe a little. But not significant enough to affect you the next day, so you're at full energy to enjoy the beach! You change into your swimsuit in the bathroom and throw some clothes on top. By the time you come back out, Sage is already in swimming trunks and Rime is already pounding on the door telling you two to stop fucking and get moving already!! When Sage opens the door to tell him to knock it off, Rime almost seems a little disappointed.
After stopping at the car to grab the umbrellas and blankets and so on, you all head out into town, stopping at a little café to grab some breakfast pastries and snacks before heading on to the beach.
What is everyone wearing? Well,, and bare with me here Pinterest is not very precise;
Felix is sitting under the umbrella, trying to keep out of the sun. He's wearing something like this.
Rime is sitting with Felix for the most part, but he's definitely suntanning a little. He's in something like this
Anisa couldn't bring her surfboard because it didn't fit in the car, so she has her boogie board. She's in something like this
Elowen says she's reading a book but,, cat instincts,,, warm sun,,,, zzz,,, wearing this
Tulsi in a bikini top and swim trunks,, she's building a sand castle while wearing this
Lucan and Balsam (when they finally show up) are matching. Specifically, Balsam got trunks and then Lucan thought it would be funny to get the same ones. So they're wearing these . Sage jokes that they look like one of those kind of couples and he gets double-noogied for it.
Speaking of Sage, he was gonna wear one of those funny trunks where it's like,, an elephant and your dick is the trunk,,,, but the thought of wearing that in front of you made his stomach flip so he's just wearing something like this
Side note once Lucan and Balsam show up they're throwing their arms around Sage's shoulders and taking him on a walk. Tulsi and Elowen have been keeping them updated on the situation and
Once they get out of earshot, Balsam is giving Sage's ears a tug and Lucan is shaking his shoulders.
You! Were! In! His! Lap! With! His! Hard-on! Against! Your! Ass! He! Shared! A! Fucking! Bed! With! You! And he still didn't make a move?? Sage is a self-professed player. He's seduced people with far fewer opportunities, so why the hell is he choking when it comes to you?
Sage, red-faced and scowling, bats them away. That's just it, isn't it? He can't do it because it's you. You're... The exception.
Lucan smiles sweetly and says that hey, now his wingmen are here, and between the three of them they can definitely figure this out! Meanwhile Balsam is grinning evilly over there.
Sage is,, a bit concerned,,,
The three of them head back over. As Lucan goes to scare Elowen awake (which will end horribly) and Balsam goes to mess with Tulsi's sand castle (which will end horribly), you trot up to Sage with your hands behind your back. He's still a little flushed from Balsam's and Lucan's teasing and seeing the excitement on your face isn't helping with that.
"What d'you got there?" His voice is light with bemusement.
You reveal a little seashell and motion for Sage to hold his hand out. When he does, you set the mini conch in his palm.
"The cutest shell for the cutest person on the beach :)"
*unintelligible noises of distress*
While Sage goes to put the shell in his bag (and cool off his cheeks), you round up the others for some volleyball. That involves getting Elowen to stop chasing Lucan, and Tulsi and Balsam to stop fortifying the sandcastle. Elowen just picks Anisa up and drags her over, and Rime comes along probably to show off to Felix a little bit
It's Sage, Lucan, Balsam, and Elowen on one team and Anisa, Tulsi, Rime, and yourself on the other.
If you're not good at volleyball, that's okay! Because as soon as Anisa hits the ball over the net Lucan is running after it and then bringing it back, tail wagging in excitement.
Puppy wants to play fetch plz
The game goes back and forth. While the Griefer side is definitely more powerful, Lucan (and Sage, and Elowen to a lesser extent) keeps getting distracted by the ball and fighting over it. Balsam keeps teasing all of them for it.
Anyways the game ends because Sage spikes the ball directly into your face. Everyone is freaking out except for Tulsi, who is wheezing with laughter because Sage Is Such A Fucking Idiot™ . Sage helps you sit down under the umbrella (he seems to think you might have a concussion, even if you assure him you're fine) and gets you some ice for your nose. He generally just hovers around you while not getting too close because he's afraid of hurting you again. Eventually you catch his hand and drag him over to sit next to you and then he finally settles. Now he's all embarrassed and can't look at you but his tail is wagging.
Snacc time! Everyone gathers around to have some fruits and chips and stuff. Sage jokingly offers to feed you. If you go along with it he starts stammering a little bit. You ask if he's blushing but he says it's a sunburn. Honestly it could be. He forgot to put on sunscreen earlier.
Tulsi, Balsam, Sage, and yourself all bury Lucan in the send. Lucan likes it. The sand is warm. Balsam and Sage give him boobs.
You wanna suntan,, roll onto your stomach and ask Sage if he can put some lotion on your back,,,, he's dead. His hands are trembling a tiny bit
As the sun goes down and the air starts to cool, you guys pack up and decide to walk around town instead. There are a lot of cute little shops and stands to check out, y'know?
Mermaid store! Mermaid store! Mermaid store! There's one in San Diego (or at least there was a couple years ago) and it's basically a bunch of mermaid/nautical little trinkets and souvenirs. Cute place. Sage is primarily talking to you and Balsam leans over and says he's being very 'shellfish' keeping you all to himself. He's very proud of his pun. Sage is not.
You guys end up a little diner,, sitting outside on the patio under some fairy lights and looking at the ocean,,, it's cold so Sage puts his jacket over your shoulders and sits next to you cause he's like a hearth,,,,, his face is still red but no one is sure whether it's from being flustered or being sunburnt,,,,,,, it's a little of both,,,,,,,,,,,,,
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Reassurance, Resaaurance: LEGO Monkie Kid Fanfic
It's been a good while! Here's my first fic in what I hope will be many for Monkie Kid. You can read it on AO3 as well.
Usually, when they sat at the ledge overlooking the valley with a clear view to the city, it was their chill out time. Enjoying the evening in silence, sharing stories, MK showing off his latest art, or splitting an order from Pigsy’s. It was fun, it was peaceful.
It was the total opposite of the mood right now.
The kid had asked Monkey King after their training session ended if they could sit down and talk. ‘Isn’t that what we already do?’ he had joked. MK didn’t chuckle, or even huff dramatically. He looked somewhere over the king’s shoulder and asked if they could ‘really talk’. When he saw Monkey King’s slightly bewildered expression, the kid clarified he needed some advice.
Wukong would be happy to give advice on just about anything to MK. He was THE Great Sage, and had been around longer than most current civilizations. He had loads of wisdom! Whether someone wanted to hear it or not was a different question.
At his affirmation, MK nodded- not with his usual fervor, Wukong noted- and walked over to their dedicated spots near the edge of the temple’s grounds. A few things were clicking into place now, as he watched his student move like he was plowing through snow and not across a dusty courtyard. Had MK not asked first, Wukong would’ve prodded him about his lack of pep.
Monkey King sauntered over and flopped down next to the kid, easing back on his hands. “So, what’s eatin’ ya bud?” he asked casually.
Staring out over the valley, MK talked about how he’d been feeling bad lately. ‘Bad in like, a mood way’ he elaborated, with some vague gesturing. Something heavy sat in his chest, and none of his usual fun hobbies seemed to take away the weight completely, not even training. MK had already talked with all of his friends about it; their encouraging words and advice would lift his spirits up for a while, but now nothing seemed to make it better.
It was then he finally faced Monkey King, with that distressed look he’d seen too much of during… has it been three months since Lady Bone Demon’s defeat already? Yeesh.
“What do you do, Monkey King? When nothing feels… like it used to?”
That wasn't the question he was expecting. ‘What do you do when you’re sad?’, or ‘Can you tell me another story where you overcame impossible odds?’, even ‘Can we watch the Monkey King animated series together?’ ranked a little higher on the mental list of stuff MK could’ve asked him.
Monkey King had spent enough time around the kid to tell there was something else to that question he was either afraid to ask, or afraid to hear the answer to. What made it harder was that Wukong didn’t have a solid answer, like at all- at least one that the kid wanted to hear. He couldn’t pull the ‘smidge of confidence’ speech out for this one.
The kid needed insight, comfort- he needed his mentor.
Monkey King floundered, his hand instinctively going to the back of his head to mess with his fur, spitting out some ‘ahh, well! hmm’s, while he scrambled for something to say. He really should be better at this by now.
“That's a… good question! I personallyyy…” he stammered, gazing up at the sky like the Celestial Realm was gonna drop some hot wisdom right in his hands and save him from the increasingly awkward conversation they were having. That moment would’ve been a good one for some hero business to come up and put this entire thing on hold.
He took too long, it seemed, because then the kid was standing up and brushing off his pants, mumbling something like ‘it’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow’ and began to walk away.
That helped Wukong make up his mind. Snapping back to reality he called out to MK before the kid bounded back to his delivery cart and drove off. MK glanced over his shoulder, looking more distressed than he was before. Monkey King resigned himself to the awkwardness and sighed, gesturing for his student to come back and sit.
When he did, Monkey King held out his hand in a silent offer. To his relief, MK scooted over and let his teacher drape his arm across his shoulders in their usual side-hug.
Which led them here.
MK sat with his legs pulled away from the edge, tucked up under his chin with his arms resting on top. His gaze was distant; aimed at the city miles away but not really taking it in. Monkey King could feel how stiff the kid’s shoulders were, not moving an inch since he sat back down. As the sun set over the horizon, a warm breeze kicked up and washed over them.
“So, elaborate for me,” Monkey King started, “What do you mean by ‘nothing feeling like it used to?’” he asked, looking out of the corner of his eye to watch MK’s face.
There was a beat, before the kid took in a deep breath and let it out. “I mean… everything’s gone back to normal, but it doesn’t feel normal,” he said softly. MK raised his head up, ready to add something else, before a look of concern flitted across his face. It disappeared faster than the breeze soothing them, and the kid tucked himself back into his arms. ‘Interesting’, Monkey King thought. “There isn’t anything missing. I checked,” he mumbled into his sleeves. “The city’s perfect… well, as perfect as it is after we trash it.” The king let out a snort at that, even though MK seemed unmoved by his own joke.
Taking the silence that followed after as his cue, Monkey King spoke up. “Well, it sounds to me like there’s nothing wrong,” he paused, and maybe he did it for a little bit of dramatic effect. “Except with you, bud.” he turned to MK then to gauge his reaction, and realized belatedly that maybe that wasn’t the right way to make his student spill the beans.
MK’s face was tense, verging on that frustrated look he’d also seen many times, and felt his shoulders hitch up. Before Monkey King could take his foot out of his mouth, his student cut in. “When is there not something wrong with me?”
Backpedal, backpedal!
“Whoa, whoa, kid, that’s not what I meant!” Monkey King asserted, waving his hands placatingly. “I meant that it sounds like you- that you’re not- if everything’s fine- ugh.” he threw away whatever argument he was going to make and slapped his palms over his face. Maybe if he pressed hard enough he would be able to stop his other foot from ending up in his big mouth.
The awkward silence returned, along with the wind, as if it was trying to blow away the sour air between the two and take it along with the evening. As good an attempt as it was, the breeze made the gap between them feel even bigger- no thanks to him. Again.
Monkey King breathed in a lungful of the offering, dragged his hands across his face, and took in his surroundings. The steady wash of the wind, the smell of the still-warm earth beneath them, the distant calls of the nighttime life waking up, the stars blinking in one by one, and his successor- looking like he wanted to turn into the world’s most loudly-dressed rock. Wukong steadied himself and went in for attempt #3.
“Kid,” he spoke softly, resting his elbows on his legs. MK made no indication he heard him, his eyes closed and brows pulled taught over them. Monkey King forged on. “Kid, if everything's fine then there’s something else bugging you. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s really wrong.” he finished, ignoring the nasty little voice that oh-so helpfully supplied that he’d hardly helped the kid over the past year.
Monkey King hoped that was the right thing to say to get his student talking. He may not be the world’s best mentor, but he could read body language. MK was holding out.
He leaned back again and waited. Another stretch of silence, another warm breeze. If he had Macaque’s hearing he’s pretty sure he could pick up the little gears turning in the kid’s head.
Finally, after however-long, MK cracked open his eyes and glanced at Monkey King. Putting on his best ‘you can trust me’ smile, Wukong nodded. The kid kept looking at him, gauging… something, maybe his sincerity? Before he turned his focus back out to the valley sprawling below them. He took a deep breath and said, with a voice that didn’t match his age, “What if she comes back?”
‘And there it is,’ Monkey King thought to himself. It sounded kinda familiar though, and he wracked his brain for-
‘What if the Spider Queen comes back?!’
MK had said that, as Monkey King was packing, for his vacation. And he had waved him off with a ‘You can figure it out!’, or something like that.
He had crawled out of one hole he had dug for himself and dropped head-first right into another. His actions were coming back and biting him on the tail, nice and hard. Which wasn’t new, but he was trying harder to be the teacher MK deserved. So, he deserved- needed, to have proper reassurance this time. Whatever it took.
Monkey King hummed thoughtfully. “If this is the ‘she’ we’re both thinking about, I’m pretty sure she’s been turned into cosmic dust by now. You saw her off yourself, remember?” he responded. When MK didn’t speak again, he continued. “Is that what you meant by things not feeling the same?”
MK nodded stiffly, halted by his arms under his chin. “I…” he huffed through his nose, “it’s been tough going back to the old routine. Letting things go back to normal. It was fine, at first, but now I can’t do anything without thinking about how it might be taken away again… and everyone else seems ok!” he added, frustration lacing his words. ”Feels like I’m the only one worrying about… all this.” MK turned his head towards him, really looking at him for the first time since he sat back down, and Monkey King’s heart started to melt, just a little bit, from the look on the kid’s face- eyes full of desperation, like he was holding onto a solitary thread that was close to snapping. That too, was an unfortunately familiar sight.
“You’ve felt like this before, right?” he asked. “When you first faced her, and when she got sealed away. Did you ever worry she would come back?”
Monkey King glanced down, before looking up at the sky and mulling over the kid’s words. ‘Nothing feeling the same, worrying about old enemies coming back,’ he churned in his head. Well, hopefully his honesty would lead him down the right path.
“I did.” he answered truthfully, noting triumphantly that MK had picked his head up, the tiniest bit, out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, you stick around as long as I have and get this strong, lots of people are gonna want you out of the picture for one reason or another. Or they just want to see you suffer because they don’t have hobbies.” he said with a lopsided smile, but the kid didn’t laugh. Darn.
“My master saw something in her that none of us did, and gave her a second chance. Put her in a big ol’ time-out box to chill for a couple centuries, or however long it took for her to come down from her crazy high-horse. I thought it was a bad idea from the start. I told Tripitaka that much,” Monkey King recalled, though he may have used a few extra creative words towards his master to drive the point home.
“Lady Bone Demon had manipulated and taken so many lives by that point, just to reach her goal of ending pain- by making everyone suffer. Took that ‘ends justifies the means’ to an insane level. She didn’t deserve a second chance.” he snarled.
Wukong took in a deep breath and dispelled the dark memories that threatened to obscure his mind. “Buuuut she got one.” he breathed out. “We all helped in laying her coffin down, but I made sure that thing was buried deep in the earth. I didn’t want to see her bony face ever again.” Monkey King said, taking in the city heights out on the horizon. Not too long ago it had been a standing grave.
“Even with her sealed away, and the key to her tomb tossed to the other side of China, I worried she would come back,” he admitted to MK. Wukong turned to his student then, checking his mood. The kid seemed a smidge less stressed now, and he was hanging onto every word. Good, good. He could keep this rolling.
“And then she did. Found an unlucky kid and turned her into a pawn, just like every mortal before her. Who knows how long she had her before she showed up at the New Years’ celebration.” he uttered. He didn’t add on the visions Lady Bone Demon showed him then, trying to throw him off his game. He despised how well that stupid trick worked on both him and MK.
Monkey King smiled, a genuine one this time. “The difference between then and now, however,” he spoke, giving a playful tap of his fist on MK’s shoulder. “Was that I have a super awesome, super smart, incredibly dedicated successor by my side.”
MK didn’t smile yet, but he could see his eyes soften. If they looked a little glossy, he wouldn’t say. Must’ve been the wind tossing dirt in MK’s eyes. Crafty wind.
He continued on. “And, that successor was sooo powerful and awesome, he managed to bring everyone together and send Lady Bone Demon packin’. Dunno if I would’ve been able to do the same, bud. Haven’t exactly been a people monkey for a few hundred years.” Wukong said with a light chuckle. He could see a ghost of a smile warble on MK’s mouth.
Monkey King rested on his palms, tail gently swaying. “So yeah. I did worry about her coming back. It happened, but we fixed it together. Even with my nnnnot so great plan” he emphasized with wiggling his hand side-to-side “getting in the way. And draining our powers. And Macaque.” his nose wrinkled at the thought. “Add that to the list of ‘Things that make Macaque a problematic fave’.”
That managed to get MK to huff out a laugh, even if it was weak. Monkey King’s grin only got bigger. “As for things not feeling the same…” he shrugged. “It’ll be like that for a while. The feeling doesn’t stay forever, and you shouldn’t let it spoil what you fought so hard to protect. Honestly kid,” he sighed, levelling a feigned disappointed look at his student. “We do all that hard work, save the entire world, and you spend your time whining about things not being exactly the same as before? Pretty selfish of you if you ask me. Which you didn’t, but I’m telling you anyway.” he said sarcastically, with a wink added on for flavor.
MK snorted. “You’re one to talk.” he mumbled.
Faster than MK could register, Monkey King was standing up with an overly dramatic gasp. “ExCUSE me?!” he cried out, leaning slightly over MK with his hands-on-hips pose, one eyebrow raised so far up it threatened to disappear into his fur. “Was that sass? From my successor?!”
He watched MK’s face reel from bemused to absurdly panicked in record-setting time. Before he could stammer out an apology, MK was swept up into his mentor’s arms, letting out a startled ‘hweek!’
“I take time out of my very busy schedule,” Monkey King scolded, spinning himself and MK away from the ledge. “To teach you how to use all of my super awesome powers. I impart my ancient wisdom onto you, free of charge,” he continued, trapping his student’s arms under one of his, throwing his head back to lament to the heavens “Even train you at Flower Fruit Mountain! Just so you can have the genuine Monkey King experience,” he looked down at MK with a steely glare, though he couldn’t quite hide his smile.
“And you call ME selfish?!” he hollered, giving the top of MK’s head the noogie of a lifetime. The bright laughter that bubbled out of his kid was infectious, and Monkey King didn’t stop his own from joining in. Their combined joy echoed through the courtyard, the Temple returning it tenfold, like it too was happy to see them carefree again.
“Ok, OK!” MK pleaded, doing his best to make a ‘time out’ gesture with his very trapped hands. “I’m super duper sorry, Monkey King! I’ll never sass you again! Pr’mise!” he squeaked out, trying his best to shrug away from his mentor’s iron knuckles, which only gave him the result of his face squished into his hands. “I don’ wan’ anoth’r bald spo’ on m’ hed!”
Monkey King finally relented, and MK was halfway sure he was going to see the top of his head smoking from the sheer friction of his mentor’s demonic noogies against his noggin. He’s pretty sure that Monkey King wore a notch in there too. “Well, I guess I can let you go if you’ve learned your lesson.” he said dismissively. He freed MK from his inescapable grasp and set him back on his feet.
MK puffed out a sigh, and fixed his headband and hair as best as he could. He turned to Monkey King, his bright smile returning, and saw it reflected on his mentor’s face too. “How ya feelin’ now, bud?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Better,” he replied, relief shining through. “Not at a 100% yet, but I’ll get back there eventually.” MK admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
His mentor nodded, clasping a warm hand on his shoulder. “You will. You’re stubborn like that.” he jabbed, lifting up one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Just like me.” his features softened, letting himself relax for the first time during this much-needed talking session. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of ya, kiddo. You’ve managed to learn a whole lot in almost a year. I don’t think anybody else except yours truly could’ve done that.”
That glossiness returned to his eyes, and before Wukong could comment on it he found himself with an armful of MK. “Thanks,” he muttered into his shoulder, voice sounding suspiciously ragged as he hugged Monkey King fiercely. “For everything.”
‘I should be thanking you, bud’ is what Monkey King wanted to say, because the kid had taught him a whole lot too; helped him relearn things he’d forgotten in his years away from the outside world. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone else. He returned the hug with the same fierce energy and said “You too, MK.” instead, resting his cheek on the side of his kid’s head.
Yeah, things were getting better.
---
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think- comment, reblog, or leave funny things in the notes. 🐒
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Dear Yuletide Writer letter 2023
Dear Author,
Hi! Thank you for writing for me. Hope the end of 2023 finds you well.
I’m requesting my absolute favorite things I’ve read and watched this year. My Optional Details are EXTREMELY optional: anything you write in these fandoms is going to bring me joy. If you have any questions, anon asks are turned on.
My requests this year are: the Doctor Blake Mysteries, the Dom DM, Vespertine, Several People Are Typing..., The Seven (Dimension 20), Demon 79 (Black Mirror episode).
In general, I like romance! Kink! Friendship! Hurt/comfort! Characters knowing each other really well! Drama! Anguish! Loyalty! Weird AUs (especially BDSM AUs or historical/fantasy AUs)! Experimental or unusual formats (including 1st and 2nd person narration, epistolary, drabble sequences, etc.)! Ooh, also roleswap AUs.
Extremely optional specific details that please me:
Dogs.
Kneeling, ritually or for any other reason.
Character A running a con on someone and character B rolling with it even though it wasn’t discussed beforehand.
Kisses on the wrist/shoulder/neck/knee/etc.
Painplay. Especially caning!
Characters having big feelings about their social role conflicting with what they want.
Righteous patricide (probably not applicable here, but if you can make it work, go for it)!
Characters learning about each other's passions and getting really into it.
General Do Not Wants:
extremely unhappy endings with no hope of things ever changing,
underage sex for characters 14 or younger,
ageplay where the character is roleplaying someone age 14 or younger,
drunk/high characters,
noncon or abuse among the requested characters - it’s generally fine if it’s from a third party as a source of hurt/comfort,
and characters succumbing to uncontrollable instincts (heats, ruts, vampire instincts, ). This includes intense, all-consuming, uncontrollable, the-character-is-literally-a-different-person-now type subspace.
mentions of current IRL wars. Other current events are fine.
The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Characters: Lucien Blake, Jean Beazley
I am so pleased with this cozy show and its extremely creative, hard-working fandom!
Lucien is a compelling lead; I love how much he loves his mom (even when he learns complicated things about her), and I enjoy his multifaceted kindness that coexists comfortably with him being an arrogant prick. Him changing his mind is delightful to me.
Jean is a magnificent foil and love interest. I love her many ties to the community, and the way she really understands people; her kindness is different than Blake’s, more pragmatic. I enjoy the way she defends him from threats, physical and otherwise. The scene where she calmly makes tea, and they negotiate with Hannam as a couple - magnificent!
For Yuletide, I’d love to read something adventurous or porny. Let them defeat enemies and fuck about it, is what I’m saying. Or if you prefer longing, I’d also love something about that period after they became friends but before they realized they’re in love.
I’d also enjoy a different-setting AU that explores their relationship. Feel free to throw in some more cool power differences there! You could also tilt the power in Jean’s favor if you like: say a D/s AU where she’s a dom but also his housekeeper, and Lucien is a sub but also a doctor! I like the way they navigate their canonical power difference with grace, but I’d also like to see it shook up a bit in fic.
Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:
Love triangles, jealousy. I like Mei Lin, but if she’s in the story, I prefer it to be set after the divorce, with Jean and Mei Lin being on relatively good terms.
Danny. A casual, one-off mention would be fine, but I would prefer him not to have any lines. All other secondary/supporting characters are 100% welcome (I love them all! Especially Charlie, Mattie, and Rose.)
Note: My blanket DNW for characters being drunk/high in the story does extend to Lucien! I know his drinking is a major characterization beat, and you’re welcome to mention it casually or delve into it. But for the duration of the fic, I’d prefer him to be sober.
A Dom DM - Make Some Noise (Sketch)
Any characters
Please feel free to treat it as an origific concept! You’re welcome to use any gender configuration for the characters. A good girl can be anybody.
Is this a nerdy couple who fuse their love of TTRPG with kink? How did this hobby fusion develop? Do they ever switch? Are there kinks they tried and decided they won’t do? What happens if they roll high?
(Very optionally, I like the headcanon that the sub’s failed kneeling roll is because of a physical disability. That sounds like a fun way for a couple to work out mid-scene communication! Maybe the dice are a metaphor?)
Or you could delve into it as an AU concept: maybe it’s characters trying kink in a universe operating under TTRPG rules? Or kink is innately tied in with magic somehow? Are there Kink Bards and Kink Rogues and Kink Level-Ups? Feel free to add any amount of convoluted fantasy/sci-fi worldbuilding to it.
Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:
Outright RPF! I don’t mind RPF usually, but for this fandom, I prefer a degree of separation from the creators. Absolutely feel free to include other Brennan moments in your characterization (like his thoughts on DMing as submission). But please don’t have the dom character be named Brennan, and don’t base the other character on from the Dropout cast.
Note: My noncon DNW applies, but I’d be perfectly happy with some bodice-ripping dubcon AU where the dom is a Dark Fuck Prince who is all “have them bathed and brought to my - hitherto dragonless - dungeons” and the sub is both horny and kind of hapless.
Vespertine Series - Margaret Rogerson
Characters: Artemisia, The Revenant, Leander
Absolutely obsessed with the FEELINGS between Artemisia and her revenant, as well as Artemisia and Leander. There is so much deliciousness packed into this book.
I love the revenant’s growing loyalty, the way its innate curiosity drove its need to understand its nun (my headcanon is that, when the Raven King was sundered, our revenant got his curiosity in the divorce); and conversely, Artemisia FINALLY found someone who sees all of her and understands the ways she tries to make the world better. She’s got all this strange, offputting kindness and resilience in her - she always did! And now she gets to nurture that and also take care of herself, and all that needed to happen was a lil bit of demonic possession. <3
Leander, meanwhile, is a loser, and I say this with all the love in my heart. I need him to be at least a little reverent about Artemisia. She’s his saint, he ought to kneel at her feet like a worm, etc. etc. but also he’s kind of micromanaging and she’s not doing anything the right and proper way. What’s a sad masochist to do!?!
In fic, I’d love to see the three of them build something love-filled and lasting. It’s up to interpretation exactly how the revenant and Leander would feel about each other!
Speaking of sad masochists, I think this is a good OT3 - or platonic OT3 - for some kinkfic. Namely, Leander getting flogged by his saint, or, like in this post by Rogerson, offering up his body for Artemisia and the revenant to get to touch each other. ("Stop hitting Yourself!)
Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:
Please don’t give the revenant a separate permanent body! I like body sharing too much (see also: Malevolent podcast). Feel absolutely free to write a different-setting AU, but even if they’re high schoolers or space werewolves, let Artemisia and the revenant share a body.
Note: I like the revenant using it/its pronouns like in canon, but if that doesn’t work for you, please feel free to go with whatever you like!
Several People Are Typing - Calvin Kasulke
Any characters
I’m so into this strange little Night Vale Does WFH Hell book, and I’m fond of all its characters. I nominated my faves, but if you’re fonder of someone else, please follow your heart. I like everyone in this office-slash-work-community-slash-layer-of-hell, and I like the way they’re all somewhat fond of each other. I love routine-loving Doug Smorin, Kerolyn of the skinks, and Louis C being too much of a dad to be fully involved in the Twilight Zone of it all.
Gerald/Pradeep is such a compelling gradual romance, I love that Gerald is the only one to call him Deepu, and I love the strange forced intimacy of, you know, just guys being dudes, taking each other of a good buddy’s flesh vessel while the good buddy has to find pleasure and maintain his humanity in the face of metaphorical and literal digital submersion of the self. I’d love to see more of their conversations. More weird intentional hedonism. Hanging out together. Finding meaning outside work or even, somehow, meaning in work.
Rob, meanwhile, has got the role of being the only sane one! Kind of! Who’s to say Lydia is any less real than Rob himself? Who’s to say she’s any less real than you or me? I love the surreality of the whole plotline. Maybe you could write about the wolves? Howling is a good theme for Yuletide.
Or write about dear, sweet, precious, horny Slackbot! It’s interesting that this book came out before ChatGPT got to be everywhere. Combine the two in some unholy way?
I don’t know, please have fun. If you’d like to write an AU set at your job, or an AU where they’re all exchange mods or activists or members of a spreadsheet-centered polycule, that would be cool too.
Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:
Graphic descriptions of pet death. RIP to Bjärk loyalists but I’m different.
Please no fucking of Gerald’s body when nobody’s in it.
Fandom: Dimension 20: The Seven
Characters: Sam Nightingale, Antiope Jones
OKAY, I WON’T LIE: I ship these two like burning. I ship all of the Maidens on some level, but Sam/Antiope are my favorites and I think they fit together beautifully. BUT I also adore their friendship, and I would love to see more of their canon dynamic but in new situations.
Sam is a delight to me, the way she accurately recognizes when something is a terrible, self-destructive idea, and then she goes ahead to do it anyway. She’s got no reason to trust good things happening to her, and she lashes out preemptively because that’s better than trusting and getting screwed over (as by Penelope). BUT she’s also got a secret kindness and largesse, and I love the way it manifests towards Talura, towards Taffodil, possibly even towards random people they meet on their adventures.
And then Antiope is sort of the conceptual opposite of Sam: she KNOWS she’s loved and she knows where she belongs to - or, at least, where she’s supposed to belong to - but she’s struggling with her authentic sense of self. (Sam’s ALWAYS known who she is, and hence the conflict with her terrible mom, and maybe eventually the conflict with Penelope too.) Antiope is very practical and has BIG FEELINGS she’s keeping restrained, and I love the way she and Sam spark into conflicts, but Antiope is so dedicated to being a good leader, not just because she’s even-keeled but because she’s got a very good sense of the right justice/compassion balance.
In fic, I’d love to see them save each other from Situations. Whether they’re friends or lovers, I’d love them to have a femme-butch kind of dynamic? (If you watch Dirty Laundry, a recent episode had Aabria casually kiss a friend’s hand, and that is definitely, definitely something I can see Antiope doing too). Weird/wacky/sexy AUs seem especially interesting here, like goddess AUs, soulmate AUs, D/s AUs, etc.
Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:
Violent transphobia, worse than in canon. I loved Sam’s interactions with her mom, and her reluctance to be filmed, but I wouldn’t like to see transphobia interfere more intensely than that with her life.
Please no cheating/infidelity, or even friendship jealousy. I know Sam’s possessive, and I love that about her, but I’m not interested in “Antiope is spending more time with others” as a source of angst at this time.
Black Mirror: Demon 79 (TV 2023)
Characters: Nida Huq (Black Mirror: Demon 79), Gaap (Black Mirror: Demon 79)
I’ve been staring at this request like a deer in headlights for days now.
I just want more? Literally every second they spent together was perfect, and I want to revel in that feeling. So I apologize if this request turns out hazy: it’s not through a lack of love for the canon, I just don’t know in what direction to take my feelings.
Nida and Gaap? Are perfect. I have no idea if they’re friends or lovers or demon/apprentice or even some kind of subverted twisty demon/worshiper or whatever else. I’d love some post-canon fic set in the void. Bring in other demons? Make it hurt/comforty? Or just ignore the ending have them explore Earth. I love Gaap’s appearance being Boney M-inspired, and I think maybe the two of them should go clubbing. Or they could bring clubbing into the void? Oooh, or they could try out some outfits. Nida finally has a willing model, if she’s into that sort of thing.
I do appreciate the episode’s deeper themes too. Nida Versus Seventies British Fascism is a deeply satisfying story, and I love just how creepy and visceral that part turned out. I was initially going to say I don’t want a no-magic AU, but actually, I could really enjoy like a kitchen sink realism approach, as long as it still ends on SOME kind of victoriousness for Nida and Gaap.
The crux of this ship, to me, is that everything is almost entirely unbearable for Nida, but, she’s got a hammer and also a demon pal. And frankly the world is not worth saving if it keeps failing her.
Fandom-specific Do Not Wants:
Betrayal or perceived betrayal. They like each other despite everything, and even during their spat they’re sort of on each other’s side.
Edit: it also just occurred to me that they'd make for magnificent vampires together.
THANK YOU FOR READING
THIS LETTER GOT LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO BE. I hope you find something here to spark an idea! But again feel free to go wherever your canon feelings take you
Hope you have a happy Yule!
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Hi,love your page by the way!although I have always been a fan of tintin myself I didn't know there was a large fandom about it in here or on insta or ..too I'm quite surprised and happy about it,just wanted to know your thoughts oon his last adventure alph art,I wish hergecould've finished it,so what do you think of it?I think it was a pretty good and modern story
Hello 👋 Thank you for your kind words and I'm glad you like my chaotic page 💕 I think you can consider Tintin fandom huge compared to some other smaller but in the grand scale of fandoms we're kinda a quiet corner so enjoy your stay!
OH BOY ALPH ART! Thank you for this question because I do have some thoughts on it!
WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD (for anyone not having read it yet)
The short version: I enjoyed reading it and I consider it part of the canon but no way it's perfect.
The long version:
I'll begin with the things that seem off with me or could be handled better.
First of all Martine. No, I don't dislike her and I don't want her out, god knows how much in need we are in this fandom for female characters. I do see in her a lot of potential and the way she was handled in the end leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. She was reduced to being a fan of Tintin while Tintin didn't show to her any more interest than for the case itself. I would love their dynamic to be developed more as Tintin needs a) girl friends and b) friends around his age and Martine combines them. She herself could be a more active ally for Tintin and co like Bianca is and especially in this case she could shine with her knowledge of the art world or at least volunteer to help with finding more clues. I know these all are random ideas but the main point is that Martine deserved more. And don't let me start with the vague last scene when she asks Tintin to meet her parents (gurl WHY? he showed you the basic level of interest, you can do better) and we never see his answer (that's a huge relief because if the company wanted him to have a girlfriend in the last page of the last album I would revive from the dead Herge himself to finish them off).
The appearances of many characters, although I enjoyed them, seem too random even for the series standards. They kinda enhance the feeling of this is the last album, saying a last goodbye to them, but they could be used a bit more tied to the main plot or the main duo, if it makes sense what I'm saying.
Ramo Nash could have a stronger role as a new secondary but with a key role character. It felt he had a nice build up only to be left aside and in the finale to be shown again.
As you can see my least favourite things of the album are the parts of the story that Herge might have handled differently (according to his notes anyway, which still don't mean anything as many times he tossed away notes in many of his stories) and I may be feeling that way because of my prejudice as I know someone else did the rest of the album. Herge died before finishing it so, in my opinion, there's no point in trying to guess how he would do it or believe he would necessarily do it better- he was a genius in many things but god damn he would sacrifice anything for a good joke.
The things I did like a lot are surprisingly many.
First of all I LOVE how Tintin is handled. Let me explain. This is the last album, Tintin at this point has been through a lot of things and has survived even more and he has already shown his need to live a more peaceful and calmer life at home (after Tibet is too obvious). And what we see from our hero? His signs of PTSD like he's instinct to lay down immediately after a loud sound at the gas station because he thought it was a gunshot while it was just a tire or something. And it's not only that. Before that he ran to Haddock's room because he was scared for the worst. I know these aren't new for Tintin or something unusual but take into consideration that we haven't seen Tintin being falsely in alarm (usually there's a reason to be in tense or he's proven to be right soon after) and most of all WHY? Why are we shown this scene? Was it only for a cheap joke? The rest of the album makes me to doubt that and to seriously consider that if we had a continuation of the series Tintin's new perspective of life and dealing with his trauma would be a recurring theme.
Continuing with Tintin, he is again reluctant to be involved in a new case until he is asked by the gallery owner himself to help. What's even more interesting is not his usual reaction of not a big deal when later he gets in danger and is saved by luck but Haddock's reaction which is more exasperated and direct than ever to his message: next time you may NOT be saved. I feel like at this point Tintin KNOWS he is right, he fully realises this but he DOESN'T KNOW how to stop it. In this adventure he tries his best to take measures while still doing his work as he always did.
My thoughts may sound bonkers but I truly believe they are a result of the "nightmare" sequence Tintin has as he is hanged up. Like every dream sequence in the series where the images resemble a lot the in real life dreams while still working as story devices (something that I truly admire and love in Herge's stories), here too Tintin has his thoughts being pictured very vividly. He sees himself as his appearance in the first books, with the yellow shirt and red tie, saying that he hasn't worn that a long time now, and then he is hanged up by his own tie. I think it is obvious that at this point Tintin considers himself too different than his old self and even when he is caught up on nostalgia or even the expectations he and everyone has on him he knows he can't be that person anymore. The reasons might be both physical, as he understands better the danger and values more his life, and phycological, as the pressure of keep being the Tintin everyone knows and the only version of himself he knew he could be, is too much and suffocating. He has been changing all this time and now he is going through the phase of discovering who he has become.
Haddock was a delight in this album too. I know Herge had prepared more for him (like obviously, Herge was this close to rename the series the adventures of Captain Haddock) but he was still fun and in the end unapologetically himself. The scene when he saves Tintin from the trap is still one of my favourites, as well as the final one with the statue, I still laugh with the whole situation.
Rastapopoulos being behind everything fits as the last story and him dying by falling from a cliff was so poetic, his first fake death was his real one too. Not to mention that this is the first and last time Haddock meets him, as no one remembers the events of Flight 714 to Sydney, and it's so hilarious if you think about it.
The comment on art world during the time Herge wrote it is one of the most interesting things for me in this album. If you haven't tried to understand at least the mechanics of art world you'll never understand Herge's (and many of us who tried to) disappointment with it. Herge criticises the groundbreaking artwork that art critics supposedly declare that postmodern art does and most of all the real interest behind the ones with influence in the art world which is of course money. Herge's commentary is more on the mechanics and the market in this world than if a letter can be art- which soon becomes just a running gag.
Overall it's a good album to read and I don't understand the hate (as I don't understand the hate for any of the albums except the second one you all know which I am talking about). Some things could be better, some others were fine and some were great and everyone can agree or disagree which things are these. I wish we could have Herge's version too to talk about, although most of all I wish we could have Thermozero script at least *coughtintinimaginatiogiveittousfinallycough*.
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Toga has a blood-drinking quirk, and one can argue it even seems instinctual. Toga has strange ideas about love, and this is influenced by her blood-drinking quirk. Let’s also say Toga has poor impulse-control, and this would be true whether it’s because she can’t help her desire for blood, or she decides to ignore any inhibitions to live ‘more easily’ (which suggests living with those inhibition is hard for her, tough enough that she feels discomfort about it.)
She has these three things working against her inclusion into society - it’s true that she is (current in canon)/can be a potential danger, but I cannot see how her being killed by Heroes is in anyway just or necessary.
She was born with her quirk - she had absolutely no say in having this, that’s how the birth power lottery goes. This innate biological trait affects her behavior, and feeling her urges would be something she cannot just not feel. What she can control is allowing that behavior to manifest, deciding whether to act on it or not. This relies on her impulse control.
Thankfully, impulse control can be taught and improved, especially if the person gets treatment for it. If her impulse control just sucks, there are ways to train it better, to cope with her feelings and understand herself better to control her behavior. If she is willingly acting on those impulses… good news, there is also treatment for it, like showing her it’s more advantageous for her to control herself, that the rewards of repressing her desires is greater than using her quirk. It would be hard work, but it’s possible, especially if she has support.
From her POV, currently, stopping gives her no advantages and no rewards (in the psychological-behavior sense of the term), would make her feel worse. Additionally, she sees no future for herself, no chance at happiness in the future, and thus no incentive to follow wait for that someday. On the other hand, continuing to be a criminal is certain to give her advantages, even if temporarily. So the choices are: nothing, vs. at least something. why wouldn’t she choose villainy?
To put it simply, if she can get help and treatment, it’s possible for her to be rehabilitated. This should be the first option in dealing with Toga. So far, she actually has not receive any help, nor has she been offered any. Telling her to stop, telling her she must accept her consequences, is not it. Why give up on her without even trying?
One can say that this is a waste of effort to change someone ‘bad’, inherently or not. A good person should not depend on incentives and rewards to do good. That she has shown her morals, or lack thereof, and thus already has signed her fate. Yet, as noted above, no one has actually tried, so why not try helping her first? She is 17, a legal minor, still very young, and so still malleable with potential to be different. As for the 'rewards and incentives', I'm sorry to say everyone responds to this, and we all sacrifice varying level of morality in order to enjoy the benefits/lack of consequences of not acting as good as we should. This is the reason why we haven't full-blown revolted to force the world to implement life and planet-saving measures even though we're facing environmental collapse and future disaster. We are reluctant to lose our jobs and be arrested. We rather face a maybe death in the future, then the very-soon death of a police bullet. If that's too real, then consider when Mirio and Deku encountered Eri, then Nighteye told Deku off for wanting to rush in saving her. They gave up saving a child they knew were being abused, for their patrol to proceed smoothly - Mirio admits that.
There is indeed a difference between 'revolting to save the world' and 'suppressing biological instinct of blood drinking.' But the point is incentives work, and should be utilized.
Plus, where do you draw the line? What standards of morality are we using? When do we decide is enough effort? Who deserves treatment, and who doesn't? Condemning someone who stabs people to obtain their blood seems obvious to prevent further harm, but the same goal of 'preventing further harm' can be applied to someone who knew it was wrong to go rogue and engage in attempted vigilante murder, yet gone and did it anyways. Perhaps the reasoning in the latter is understandable, but the fact remains that such a person allowed their anger to get the better of them. Lashing out is one thing; planning a murder is another. They are capable of such darkness, and have embraced it, even if for one crime. Can we say for certain that this won't happen again in the future?
Hero society have already drawn very strict lines, and while it seems the majority of criminals are rightly condemned and thrown into Tartarus, we know for the fact that this can be abused. Muscular was thrown in Tartarus because he's a very violent murderer, but Overhaul was put there for 'ideological crimes', while Lady Nagant was blatantly jailed for refusing to follow orders of extrajudicial murder that she found morally wrong. Tartarus is a rough sentence, and already given to people without full consideration of their character, their potential for change, and the circumstances of their actions - plus with it's indefinite detention, it's already giving up on them to allow them to rot in there for the rest of their lives. Death by Hero is even rougher, and much more permanent and absolute, especially when it's entirely possible to capture the Villain without killing them. A society that agrees with - even desires - the death of a 17-year-old girl without full consideration of her circumstances, and refuses to give the possibility of rehabilitation, is not exactly a world Heroes who want to be just and kind and main ideal is saving people, should support.
There is a lot of irl examples and concepts here, applied to a science-fantasy shonen manga. It might be ridiculous to do so; but I think it's clear from the story that these concerns (or the implication of these concerns) have been raised. Quirk counseling didn't work, failing to live up to its name; Toga's parents shamed and disowned her, instead of getting help and support her; the human-rights violating Tartarus is a thing and we see no other alternative offered or considered; and finally the question has been asked over and over again: are villains worthy of being saved? They are considered a human who has potential to become better, or are they beasts in human skin to never be trusted and should be put down at first opportunity?
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