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eternalstrigoii · 4 years

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Peacemaker

Conall (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Human!Reader x Borra (what, did you think I’d miss an opportunity like this? You can pry my copious ship garbage out of my cold, dead hands.)

It took much more coaxing on your part than you anticipated, a lot more mental gymnastics than you wanted to do, and a considerable dose of sweet-talking.

I want unity, you’d whispered. I want peace. Before, during, and after, I will still be yours.

You said nothing of the fact that you were afraid you’d driven a wedge between them. That it was harder for you to comprehend, being socialized by others of your own kind rather than theirs, that you could even propose such a thing without it coming at the cost of grave consequence. (You were more adventurous than you thought you were, though you still felt, to a degree, like it was sexual treason.)

Ini of the desert and Shrike of the jungle did not feel the same way, when you told them. You didn’t expect either to be your friend, skilled warriors that they were, but you made foods they’d never eaten before, and your novelty had yet to wear off, so they kept you company from time to time. You told them of how you’d heard (secondhand only, because the human world did not operate like theirs with any guarantee of truth or validity in stories told) of nobility engaging in such indulgences – only the rich and royal could do so freely and without consequence, and that was only if their lovers were apathetic. You’d heard of duels fought over women, brother against brother, friend against friend.

They both laughed at you for so long you’d flushed from your temples to your chest and you hadn’t said another word on the subject.

Not to them, anyway.

So, there you were. You wished you could’ve chosen a neutral meeting ground, but you hadn’t. You wrung your fingers while you stood, restless, in a sheer, flowery dress that was the green of spring, tied loosely behind your neck.

You didn’t hear the near-silent breath of wings as he landed beside you; the barely-there sound of his feet on the soft earth. Had you chosen somewhere else, perhaps you would’ve. But he liked the sight of you, your dark hair loose around your shoulders, the way your thin fabric clung to your curves. (He claimed to have thought about you only once, only to see if he could tolerate the thought, but his eyes traced the indentation of your spine and it was strange to see a body not framed by wings.)

“You meant it, then?” he said, and you jerked back so abruptly you nearly startled out of your skin.

“Stars, Borra! Don’t do that!” Your hand went over your heart and you pushed his chest – lightly, not that it would’ve moved him even if you gave it force.

He made that sound that you still weren’t sure what it meant – whether it was aggression or pleasure or just simple acknowledgement. You noticed the way he moved, how he instinctively shifted his weight to his heels before he approached you, closing all distance between you as though he, too, intended to shield you with his wings.

You dared keep your eyes lifted as he leaned in close to breathe you in. He caught a lock of your hair on his talons, and you considered the possibility that he might just take you right then and there.

He gave you a low purr-hum of approval. “You do.” You couldn’t avoid the satisfaction in his voice. “How does Conall feel about this?” he asked, as though he didn’t press his hand between your thighs to stroke the wetness at your center regardless. Your eyelids fluttered and your breath caught. He was so warm. “Hm? His little human, playing peacemaker.”

You were more adventurous than you thought you were; Borra was mildly dangerous. You kept telling yourself that he scared you, even though you were painfully aware that his rejection was the part that scared you most. You whimpered, your hand coming to rest on his arm as he slipped one taloned finger inside of you. Rocked it slowly. And then, like he just had to prove to you how aggressive his pursuits could be, he held your gaze as he withdrew from you, leaving you at the brink of whining at your emptiness, and tasted you.

Your hips rocked lightly of their own volition.

His eyes darkened, locked with yours. You shouldn’t have felt your pulse between your legs, and yet you did. You wished he would’ve teased you, tested you, baited you, but no – he swept you up against him like you weighed nothing and kissed you like you were his.

You were painfully aware of your legs spread over his thigh and how easy it would’ve been for you to betray yourself with your arousal. You arched to try to keep away from the light fabric of his trousers, pressing closer to his chest in the process. The fabric of your dress was thin and he touched you right through it, cupping your breast, caressing down your stomach. You hardly noticed that you caught his lower lip between your teeth like you were biting your own.

He did. He boosted you on his forearm, kissed you harder. His tongue was in your mouth and his claws in your hair. You shivered; everything felt cooler than it should’ve outside of the sphere of his body heat.

You wanted unity. You wanted peace. You wanted to believe you could foster love instead of war, and you’d had no idea that he would be a willing and enthusiastic participant.

You should’ve done this sooner.

He carried you into your nest like he belonged there. The tension in your nerves that ebbed when he started touching you flared anew, but not for long – their senses were keener than yours, and you knew your almost-husband’s more temperate touch. You were settled on his lap, and you shivered at the sensation of their temperature contrast – you shivered at the thought that this had gone so well so far; you were no longer certain that you were the first to propose it.

But you must’ve been. Conall undid the fabric at the back of your neck and let the rest fall open. You were his; as long as his brother respected that, there could be unity.

For someone who spent the last several months claiming to have no attachment to you whatsoever, Borra’s eyes ran over you like he had never seen anything like you before. You knew where you were different from the others – the sharpness of many of their features were softened in you, and you were painfully aware of what you lacked in regards to mobility and defenses.

There was nothing cold or cutting to be said, now. The look they exchanged over your head warmed you; you were no one’s conquest, no spoil of war, you had chosen to be there, with them, of your own volition. Not only was he willing to acknowledge that, but you deliberately pretended you didn’t see the pride in Conall’s eyes, even if you couldn’t help but lean in to the kiss he pressed to your temple.

“I trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

Borra made that sound again. He ran his hands over you, from your knees up your naked thighs, over practically all the rest of you. “You always did like soft things.”

The warmth of love returned to desire without warning you of its transition. You couldn’t very well expect Conall to sit back and watch, but that was what he did. He’d needed convincing, before the sight of his brother on his knees between your thighs was a reality. You gasped, instinctively offering yourself for the intrusion of Borra’s tongue.

“You really have no survival instincts,” he purred against your skin. He kissed you at your apex, at one of the focal points of your pleasure, and you couldn’t resist rocking your hips and gripping Conall’s thigh as you moaned.

He flicked his tongue over you. Kissed you again. Watched your face while you worked your hips. “Gutsy little thing. You like this, don’t you?”

You quaked when he pushed his fingers back inside of you – two of them, and they curled as though he intended to gather more of your wetness to taste. He moved them in rhythm with your hips, pressing kisses to where you parted around him, to your inner thighs and then along your waist. You arched toward him, offered yourself.

You trusted him, whether or not you’d admit it to one another. You trusted that even he would be kind enough to only offer you pleasure.

“Nerves like a warrior.” He kissed your stomach in a slow ascent. You were grinding on his fingers, whimpering. You felt Conall’s hand on your hip and you whined out loud in lieu of words – please, don’t let me stop.

“Shh.” He thumbed the place where you always used to ache. “Give him a chance to know you as I do.”

“Mm.” Borra open-mouth traced his lips over your ribs, and you shook with pleasure when he brushed his thumb over you just to tease. “Is that all it takes to get you undone? Little anticipation, little teasing?”

You arched at the retreat of his fingers only to be guided back into place. You couldn’t recall having ever been asked to wait before, and you thought it might be the worst thing that had ever happened to you – arrow in your side included.

Borra nudged your chin up. Kissed you again. It was soft, lingering, open-mouthed; your lips parted for his tongue and got his slick-coated fingers for your trouble.

You closed your lips around them anyway. Your eyes fell half-lidded, and the purr-growl sound he made was echoed by your Conall.

Perhaps you weren’t the only one doing all the convincing.

You let him guide you, let him move them in your mouth. Your tongue rose to fit to the indentation of his talons and you swore his tension was palpable. You flicked it lightly against the pads of his fingers, shifting ever so slightly forward.

You didn’t want him to be tense. You didn’t expect to make a show of yourself, but if it would please them both, perhaps there was no more suitable option.

It might’ve been the first time he let you approach him. Your touch was gentle, even when it became clear that you had no idea how to unfasten his armor.

He did it for you, much to your surprise. You didn’t think he’d let it come off, but he was the one to form what would become the collective pile of your clothes – even his trousers, though you’d planned on taking those off yourself.

“Come here?” you asked in your sweetest tone.

Both of their eyes were locked on you; Conall shifted closer to you, and you motioned for him to sit up better, if not join you outright. “I want you both.”

Borra ran his hand through your hair in praise for that. Of course you do. A human’s place was on their knees.

You kissed Conall like you weren’t already on display, like you had so many times when silent beckoning for him to come join you in your bed wouldn’t convey your urgency enough. You offered him your parted lips without remembering that your tongue tasted of you, and you weren’t surprised in the slightest when it earned you a lower, hotter growl in response.

You imagined you could tempt them by withholding satisfaction, so you pulled away before his kiss could deepen any further, and pressed your lips just below Borra’s jaw.

He practically purred.

You kissed a path down his chest, let your hands wander over him. He moved to press you closer, let you linger, so you returned to your partner. You removed Conall’s chest-plate, traced your lips along the familiar path of his warrior’s markings. You flicked your tongue over one of the feather-shaped accents and felt his hand come up to tangle in your hair.

You pretended you didn’t notice the way his eyes cautioned you. Under this specific circumstance, he was rather short on patience.

That was perfectly fine with you.

You were as equitable as you could be, moving from his chest to Borra’s stomach, letting your lips linger at his waist. Your eyes flickered up to your beloved, to watch hunger grip him in new and beautiful ways, and then you looked up at his brother, who didn’t buy your false innocence one bit.

You kept up your wide-eyed façade, though, even as your tongue darted out to taste him as he had you. All of him was warm, and though parts of him were stone-hard, that particular point of your focus was quite familiar.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “You can’t lie to me with those doe-eyes.”

You kissed him, sweetly, and took absolutely no small measure of pleasure in the sound he made when you flattened your tongue and stroked along his underside.

When he looked at Conall, you imagined that you might’ve done more to combat his prejudice with just your hands and your tongue than years of arguing could accomplish.

You had to console your beloved for that.

You were less restrained where you were familiar; your hand rested on Conall’s thigh, and you pretended not to notice Borra gathering your hair from your shoulders. You pretended not to notice that he settled behind you where you knelt, lowered to the earth to fit his body against yours, and you definitely didn’t shiver when his hot breath fanned your shoulder.

But you moaned out loud when he sunk his teeth in.

You imagined they must’ve arranged this just as you had tried to; discussed it between themselves with enthusiasm neither initially offered you. You imagined that they had because you would’ve reeled too hard to believe that Borra could join with you without hesitation, grip your hip to keep you in place while he settled his heat and his weight inside you. You shivered at the unusual contrast of your body and his, and you couldn’t even consider what you must’ve looked like – your eyes fluttering, your lips parted, your head tipped back and hair wrapped around his hand while he darkened the bruise of his love-bite.

In the human world, wars were fought over the desire to bed specific women. Even you, on your little farm in the middle of nowhere, heard of Helen of Troy – the kings and the armies that moved against one another all because two men wanted her.

There was no fighting over you. Not even when he groaned out loud and started to move within you. It was more firm, more enthusiastic, than you were used to, but nowhere near unpleasant. You felt your skin flush with renewed shyness; you tried to lower your eyes, but Conall held your chin. He stroked your lower lip with his thumb.

“Is peace all that you imagined?”

You did not know if he spoke to him or to you. You didn’t know if you could form a coherent response, anyway; you felt you could add another ability to the list of their universal magical gifts.

You didn’t expect intimacy. You didn’t expect to be shared, though Conall released you so Borra could kiss you, and it was hot and hard and hungry and you linked your fingers in his hair to kiss him back. His talons traced a path from your chest to your waist that you imagined, in a flicker of darkness, could’ve easily split you open.

He didn’t handle you like you were fragile - though, even then, it wasn’t rough. Not in the way that garnered worry.

You were shared more readily than you could imagine. You were gathered with familiar gentleness, lifted, though the part of your body from his made you flutter, and you clung to Conall with renewed enthusiasm.

He lay down with you astride him, eased you into place at his waist. You rested your hands on his stomach and rolled your hips, rising and falling with the shallow echo of your breath.

“Beautiful,” you thought you heard right before Borra placed another love bite on your opposite shoulder – like the well-earned marks on your almost-husband.

Oh, skies, not coming undone was difficult.

Your legs were shaking. You moved like that between them, shared in instances, as though you could miraculously hold yourself together. You were panting, trembling, your eyes half-unfocused. You blamed Borra’s heat at your back for the flush in your skin but it started while Conall was moving inside of you and you just. Could not. Fathom. How you were supposed. To endure.

You weren’t aware of the sweet, lovely sounds you made or how plaintive and inviting you sounded. You didn’t fully notice the glance they exchanged – the quirk of mischief in Conall’s brow or the impish smile that spread, too quickly, across Borra’s lips. You were, however, quite coherent when it came to Borra’s arm across your chest, the hungry descent of his mouth on yours, and the way his hips snapped up to meet yours like you could handle their attention much longer.

You weren’t supposed to.

He imagined what it would be like to make you scream. He didn’t know how sweet of a sound it would be, how warm and soft you would become after. He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams that he could feel the thrum of your pulse through your whole body, from your throat (where he kissed) to your chest, to your belly, to where your skin met his. He understood much more easily than he’d anticipated why Conall had returned to you night after night after night for months on end.

He stopped your hips from rocking against his. You didn’t feel you were supposed to enjoy the flush of heat within you like you did, but you did, and you were still trembling when you were offered – when you were exchanged, this time much more gently – from his brother’s grasp to his.

Conall let you wilt against him like a plucked flower. He kissed you softly – your brow, your cheek, your lips – before the slow and measured roll of his hips made you strangle a half-animal sound of your own. You loved that about him, the way he moved with you the way water laps at the hull of a boat, and you also knew that he did it intentionally then.

You truly, genuinely, did not have the presence of mind to respond in any more sensible way than to cling to him. You also didn’t have the muscle strength, but they shouldn’t have expected you to – they were the warriors, not you.

“Is it too much?” he murmured near your ear.

You gripped him more tightly than you ever had; if he stopped, you’d scream, and not for any pleasant reasons.

Borra laughed from where he’d settled beside the both of you, and patted your thigh like it would rally your nonexistent strength. “I should have let you go first.”

The purr in his voice was too much. You were already quivering and you dropped your head to his shoulder like you could control yourself.

But Conall was always good to you, and he didn’t leave you waiting. You were shivering like you’d plunged, naked, into a tundra snow-bank. You didn’t think there was any tension left in you to carry you to satisfaction for another round, but, no – pinprick stars danced in front of your vision when the sudden tightness in your belly made you forget to breathe.

He smiled much too widely while he rubbed your back. Though he breathed heavily, neither of them were in the state you’d landed yourself in. You couldn’t deny that he was holding back laughter any more than you could pretend Borra wasn’t already laughing at you under his breath. “Are you alright?”

The sound you made was supposed to be a yes, but your main interest was in immediately laying down. You were warm and full and tired and rather messy and you had no desire to get up and take care of that yourself. None whatsoever.

Conall’s chest shook with laughter, and it did things at the union-point of your bodies that made you whine and clutch his shoulders.

“Should I apologize?” he gathered back your hair and kissed either bruise left on your shoulders.

“She asked,” Borra offered.

You shook your head. Your eyes were drooping and you felt well and thoroughly limp. “M’sorry?”

“Don’t be.” He guided you to lay down against his chest. You were safe, there, in the blanket of his wing and the cradle of his arms, and you regretted how quickly you fell asleep.

You did not regret waking up, however briefly, in the middle of the night.

You had been cared for while you slept, bathed and covered with a thinner blanket of soft hide. Conall was asleep at your back, his body against yours so familiar that you nearly drifted off without consideration for anything else – like the warmth against your front, or the very much awake amber eyes still regarding you as you blinked.

“Back to sleep,” Borra soothed on a whisper, carding his talons through your hair.

“D’you like me now?” you muttered, and you would’ve kicked yourself for it had you been conscious enough to realize what you asked.

“No,” he said, much too firmly. It made you frown, even as your eyes closed. “You are our family, Rose. I may never be to you what he is, but I do love you.”

“Love me,” you muttered, like you’d have the sense to remember it in the morning. “Love you too.”

You were asleep before the ghost of a smile crossed his lips, though you were faintly aware of the touch of his warm lips to your forehead. “I know you do.”

#Conall x Reader #Borra x Reader #Conall Maleficent #Borra Maleficent #Conall x Reader x Borra #M:MoE #No Beta We Die Like Men #There Is No Plot Only Zuul (lemons)

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smalltragedy · 3 years

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* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hi im just reposting gabe’s intro bc its been a very long time n im starting a little fresh hehe. yes i do regret the text color bt im not going back.

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

ghosting ;; mother mother / roam the room ;; citizen / art of doubt ;; metric / thnks fr th mmrs ;; fall out boy / heart in a cage ;; the strokes / where is my mind? ;; the pixies / flowers grow out of my grave ;; dead man’s bones / 1984 (infinite jest) ;; the used / blister in the sun ;; the violent femmes.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: bisexual (masc-leaning).

pinterest.

biography.

it’s only rly ever been gabe n his mom n the little new jersey suburbs that r always the same no matter where they go. they dn’t speak abt fathers or brothers or spain or anywhere other than the now, and how its constantly changing bt oddly the same.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

they dn’t talk abt spain bt we cn talk abt spain n hw sonia hd grown up partially there n partially in the states n hw she’d originally planned to live there forever bt the man she’d fallen in love with ws involved in some. high class dangerous shit n it ws safer fr them to part even if tht involved leaving everything she knew n loved <3

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

she wld commute 2 nyc every morning n after school gabe wld climb onto the train n by the time he got 2 her place of work she’d be just getting off n they’d get a slice of pizza n sometimes they’d go somewhere like central park or coney island (just fr the novelty) bt most of the time they just got back on the train home w/ gabe either doing homework or napping on her shoulder.

when gabe got a little older he’d sometimes skip school n take the train after sonia had already gone so he cld spend the day in nyc. he liked learning bt didnt rly like school. he nvr properly fit in bc of the amt of times they’d move so it felt like nowhere ws. right fr him.

got rly involved in. the punk scene as a young unsupervised teenager n tht led 2 a lot of like. shitty stick n pokes bt also a love of. very loud angry music n a sense of justice tht he held tightly in his fists. got mouthy towards bullies whether at school or in the scenes he involved himself in n started getting into a lot of fights bc of it.

during this, sonia ended up dating n marrying gabe’s stepdad who he calls craig sometimes bt i dnt think thats his name i wont lie to u guys. its partially a joke n partially purposeful disrespect bc gabriel does not trust a single man bt like. man. ‘craig’ is just an accountant. he’s fine he’s a good dude. they once bonded over like. the mets.

violence tw // anyways. when gabriel ws 16 he got into a super super bad fight tht ended rly. terribly n like listen. nobody died bt it ws just. it got blown up very out of proportion n gabe might’ve gotten expelled even tho he wsnt even the one who started it bt thts okay. ‘craig’, or paul, suggested tht maybe. a change of scenery wld b good fr gabe n b4 they knew it they were. moving to paul-robert’s hometown of irving, north carolina. violence end of tw //

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

bt honestly like. he didnt rly get into too many fights once they moved down here n even tho sometimes he ws like. ommgg. i hate this town .. its so washed up .. he still made friends n like. the only thing tht changed ws tht it ws a lil harder fr him 2 acquire illegal substances.

anyways. currently he hs a tattoo apprenticeship n is a professional piercer n like. he plays guitar n writes songs bt thts more of a hobby rn than anything else. mostly focused on paying his rent at port apartments bc as much as he. loves his mom he does not want 2 live with her forever <3 n thts okay!

personality & facts.

overall xtremely passionate person like god. feels emotions so intensely. every time he opens his mouth n talks abt an interest of theirs its just very like. u listen n ur like oh. gained 2 inspiration. thanks.

clings onto his friends p tightly bc he like. nvr rly stayed in one place fr super super long in new jersey so he nvr made very long term friends n now hes like. very clingy HLKDSHLKFSHLKDG also hates to b alone. subtle desperation behind interactions with ppl he rly wld like to be friends with.

like dnt get me wrong hes gotten into. sm fights bt thts mostly bc he cannot keep his mouth shut n he also cnt stand douchebags he like. always wants to tear them down prob bc he ws a victim of bullying. n u know what. we support him. otherwise he loves ppl bt esp if they hv similar interests 2 him.

like golden retriever who bites kind of. intensely loyal but at the same time is very skeptical. things tht good things do not last very long even though they’ve been doing already fr the last few years.

also bit of a nerd. they were nvr rly a big fan of school bt theres smth abt a good superhero comic tht draws their attention more than like. any english class evr. bt seven soldiers of victory? classic. big dc fan.

uh. very into like. hardcore music. hardcore rock. punk. if its loud n angry they r into it like so so much. hs sm tattoos is like. super covered in them its partially bc they work at a tattoo shop n partially bc they do not know hw to manage their money well.

ooohh u know what theyre. kinda moody i wont lie to u. very defensive like they dnt evr wna talk abt their past. has experienced Things n they do not wish to discuss them. will usually like. deflect frm conversations he doesnt wna hv.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

tries not 2 take anything super seriously 2 the point where when he does take smth seriously its a little scary bc theyre super intense abt it. forcibly optimistic even tho on the inside he feels like a total pessimist. lots of. deep down insecurities tht he projects by attaching himself p firmly onto others. >.>

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe.

bt ya! luvs oranges n reds n is maybe a short king. hs an eyebrow piercing n like. a lip ring i wont fk around here he IS living his best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends bt thats okay. probably will tell u hes frm new jersey. its a personality trait. smokes the shittiest cigarettes ever.

wanted plots.

just ghosting along ,, dnt even exist 2 me ,, ;; god. firstly just the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs like. spoken to romantically n then dropped suddenly. n then maybe like. one tht actually Hurt bt they cnt avoid each other bt theyre actively pretending each other doesnt exist n its. hurtful bc it ws like. actually smth nice bt <3 ykno FKLFSDHG

hey hey heyy c’maahn i’m just a little guy ;; n this is the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs probably. pissed off n hs either fought or been on the verge of fighting just. unable 2 resist a good bicker-turned-duel.

just blistering in the sun ;; they cld b close friends bt also they cld also not b bt just ppl who. indulge in bad impulsive decisions with gabe. general bad influences on each other’s health n just. no good! party hard bt at what cost.

n also ;; like ... rly solid good friendships ... flings n maybe an exe or two tht either ended on good terms or just. horrendous, ppl they’ve distanced frm, ppl also frm up north, piercing customers, bt not tattoo customers bc im p sure they’d get fired if they were just tattoo’ing ppl willy nilly, etc.

#irvingintro #violence tw #(more of a brief mention)#bt still #jst reposting bc its been so long JFGDHFDSGSLFKG

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trans-shuichisaihara · 6 years

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so I was lying in bed like three weeks ago like huh what if my tragedy au + @aroseandapen & @tricky-leader‘s twins au and then this happened

i’m such big love for kurochi please check out @twoforonespecialau it’s so good

The wind nipped at Kaito’s skin, causing him to wrap his arms around himself tighter. Three layers and that still wasn’t enough to keep himself warm from January’s chill, deeper than usual due to the complete shitstorm that was the end of the world. Worn boots trudged through black snow, kicking aside awkward clumps as he searched for anything of use.

Not that it was easy to see anything through the scarf wrapped around his face and hair flattened down over his eyes by his hat.

“Anything on your end, Akamatsu?” He called over to her, practically shouting to avoid it coming out little more than a mumble.

“Maybe? I think some of this stuff is salvageable. Problem is dragging it back and fitting it in the van.” She gave a heavy pat to the air conditioning unit she was examining when he shuffled over.

He looked it over. “Mm, well, this should fit all right. Iruma took out the one we brought back last week, right?”

“Yep, the night before last. She said it was garbage but workable, so this one should be good too.”

He let out an amused snort. “She thinks everything is garbage.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “Alright, I’ll go get the cart. See if you can find some smaller stuff to fill up the rest of the space.”

Once she nodded in agreement, Kaito gave her a thumbs up and turned away to head back to where they parked the van, which was two blocks over just to be safe. If anyone happened to see them, a car farther from where they were scavenging would be less likely to be jacked.

Another attribute of the van that kept them safe was that Iruma made the locking mechanism completely silent. Kaito probably took that for granted too often; hell, all of her inventions, even the weirdly sexual ones, were incredible in their own way. As he unlocked the van, he wondered if he should let her know that she was appreciated.

Even if the praise would only make her head even bigger than it already was.

The cart he came to get was barely that. Iruma had taken a door, slapped three sets of wheels on it, and called it a day. He definitely wouldn’t be complimenting this one. In all honesty, he despised the stupid thing; it was a pain to move around and always sounded like it was on the verge of snapping in half whenever they loaded something onto it. To make it more compact for the van, it had no handles, meaning he either had to crouch down to push it along the ground or carry it over. Neither were ever appealing options.

As he was tugging the cart out of the back, he caught movement in the corner of his vision. He froze, warily scanning the car interior. Was he imagining- No. There was a wisp of breath from the front seat, silent but visible in the cold air.

He swallowed, fear seeping into his body. He wasn’t armed, not since- not since what happened with the tasers. Still, despite what had happened before, he couldn’t help but wish for the reassurance having a weapon brought in the unknown of situations like this.

He waited a long moment before deciding to resume pulling out the cart. If the intruder hadn’t done anything to engage after the long period of silence, it was likely that they weren’t looking for a fight. That could mean that they were unarmed as well. At least, Kaito hoped so, because he was about to make a bad decision.

Once the cart was out and on the ground, Kaito clambered back in, standing as tall as he could in the back of the van without hitting his head on the ceiling. The person in the front seat held their breath as Kaito approached, until...

He leaned over the passenger’s seat and looked straight into a familiar face, wide purple eyes staring back into his own.

Kaito sighed in relief, leaning back. “Fuck Ouma, you scared the shit outta me. You can’t just-“ Before he could finish scolding him, Ouma suddenly threw open the door at his side, practically jumping out of the van as he sprinted off.

Kaito gaped for a split second, quickly recovering to shout, “Hey! This ain’t the time to be playin’ tag!” He then hopped out of the van and chased after him, determined to figure out why he’d decided it was a great idea to sneak along when he could’ve just asked.

Kaito didn’t get far in chasing him when the weather decided to screw with him, unseen black ice causing him to lose his balance and go tumbling to the ground. He cursed loudly as his shoulder hit the ground, damp cold accompanied by pain.

Normally, when someone got hurt was when Ouma would stop his antics. This time, he only glanced back at Kaito, just long enough for him miss Akamatsu rounding the corner, concern on her face from the racket Kaito was making.

“Akamatsu, grab ‘im!” He shouted, and Ouma’s head jerked forward in time to avoid crashing into her. Fortunately, that didn’t save him from his imminent capture, as she lunged and wrapped her thick-coat arms around him.

He immediately began to squirm and kick to escape her hold. Kaito sighed as he struggled to his feet, brushing off his clothes and shaking his gloves. “Geez, what the hell’re you doing? This seriously isn’t the time to be...” He paused.

Somewhere in-between the van and his capture, Ouma’s hood had fallen down. And while he still had that familiar round face and those childish eyes and purple hair in a similar enough style, Kaito knew his boyfriend well enough to say with certainty that...

“You’re not Ouma.”

Ugh, this was awkward. Kaito furrowed his brows, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, sorry, thought you were someone else.”

Akamatsu’s grip slackened as she shot a confused look at him and not-Ouma, allowing the latter to slip out of her grasp and huddle into the alley wall defensively. “What’s going on?” She questioned.

“Well, uh, I was gettin’ the cart, and this guy was in the van-” He paused. “Wait! What the hell were you doing in our car then?!” He glared at the stranger, who glared right back. He pursed his lips, refusing to answer despite the visible tremble in his hands.

Speaking of which, in his hands was- “Hey, that’s my lunch!” Kaito stormed up to him, holding his hand out expectantly. “Give it back!”

Not-Ouma only held the container of food closer to his chest, sticking his tongue out and making a quick hand gesture at him.

Kaito ignored it and was about to try to grab the container from him, when something hit the back of his head. A snowball..? He spun around just in time to see a figure duck back behind the far corner. What the-

“Hey, wait!” Akamatsu cried, and Kaito quickly snapped back to them. Not-Ouma was sprinting past her, ducking under her attempt to grab him.

“You snooze, you lose!” He yelled at them in English, disappearing around the corner.

“You fuck!” Kaito yelled after him uselessly. He huffed and kicked at the snow. Dammit! What a fucking brat just like Ouma.

Akamatsu patted his shoulder comfortingly. “It was just your lunch, right? I’ll share mine, and we’ll head back early.”

Kaito grumbled but nodded, trudging back to the van to get the cart. Again. He grumbled more as he picked it up, dragging it back to the dumb air conditioner he wasn’t sure he even wanted anymore. Stupid doppelganger having the nerve to look like Ouma and steal his food and- and just being a brat!

He sure wasn’t going to come to Yamaguchi again anytime soon.

When they wearily pulled into the driveway of their home, Kaito was relieved to see Ouma peeking out through the window. Some things never change, and he was sorta glad that was one of them.

“You’re back early,” he chirped as they entered, hopping off his perch at the window and over to their side, greeting them with quick hugs.

Akamatsu fondly ruffled his hair. “Had a run-in with some other survivors. Momota-kun’s lunch got stolen.”

Ouma gasped. “Whaaat?! The lunch I made for my dear Momo-chan?!” He gave an exaggerated sniffle. “I, I was looking forward to him coming home and chewing me out about how spicy I made it!”

“You did what?!” Man, he should’ve figured; Ouma had been too eager to give it to him. He shook his head. “Well, whatever. I didn’t get to eat it, so your prank failed.”

“So rude! Who do I have to get revenge on for messing up my messing with poor Momota-chan?!”

He snorted. “You only have yourself to blame. Literally.”

Ouma tilted his head. “Oh?”

“The guy that stole it could’ve been your doppelganger. Looked almost exactly like you, hell, was even a bit of an asshole like you.”

For a brief second, he thought Ouma tensed. “A doppelganger? Are you sure you haven’t been reading too many fairy tales?” He folded his arms behind his head, grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“I swear on my life that’s how it was. You agree, right Akamatsu?”

She nodded. “It was a bit eerie how much he looked like you. I think the only difference was that he wasn’t as well kept as you are.”

Ouma suddenly broke into tears. Kaito sputtered; they didn’t seem like his normal crocodile tears, but-

“I can’t believe you guys are gonna replace meeeee!” Ouma cried after an almost hesitant pause. “I’ll have to travel all the way to Aomori in order to duel my double to the death, that way you’ll have to accept me as the real Ouma Kokichi!”

“H-Hey, cut it out. We’re not gonna do that, plus we didn’t even go that way. I told you this morning we were going to Yamaguchi, right?”

Ouma quickly stopped, wiping away the (probably, possibly, hopefully) fake tears. “Oh, right, well, I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t really care where you guys go, after all.” He gave them a wide smile. “So as long as you promise not to tell me lies about seeing a twin of me then I’ll forgive you for thinking about replacing me!”

Kaito rolled his eyes. “We weren’t lying, and we would never replace you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He brought a hand to Ouma’s head, affectionately ruffling his hair. “So anyway, help us bring in the shit we picked up.”

Ouma obliged, but proceeded to fill their silent work with loud exaggerations about what he and Iruma did all day. Kaito took that to mean that he probably just sat around waiting for them to get home. By the time everything was in and the four of them huddled under the kotatsu for warmth, the strange encounter from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Kaito woke up cold. He shifted, blindly trying to find Ouma’s warmth in the pile of blankets. When that proved to be difficult to do, he grumbled, prying open his eyes. He spent a long minute feeling around for his curled up body, but eventually determined that he wasn’t in the bed.

Kaito frowned. He reluctantly pulled himself out of their bed, keeping a blanket wrapped around him as he did so. It was possible that Ouma was just going to the bathroom or couldn’t sleep and got up, but something in Kaito still urged him to look around.

He checked the roof first. He shivered the moment the frozen air filled his room, immediately regretting his decision; if Ouma had gone up, surely that would’ve woken Kaito up from how cold it was. Still, he looked anyway, but as he expected, he wasn’t there.

He closed the window, wiping at his now-dripping nose as he shuffled over to Ouma’s room. The room felt abandoned from how untouched it was; maybe it was time to suggest using it for something else? Hm... Maybe it was too soon. He shook his head, poking around for a minute before leaving and heading downstairs.

Not in the kitchen, not in the living room. He was about to check the outhouse when Ouma’s shoes being gone caught his eye, but the fresh layer of untouched snow in the backyard made him pause. He lingered uncertainly by the back door, before turning and heading to the garage.

The van was gone.

#kurochi ouma #kokichi ouma #kaito momota #kaede akamatsu #drv3 #twins au #tragedy au #my post #fanfic #oumota #there's jaden/jadochi if you squint

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styomi · 6 years

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Fifteen study dates | 15-day prompt challenge | Sweet Pea/OC | Day 6

AN: Gosh, I had fun writing this one, but it didn’t turn out quite how I wanted it to… Well, it’s good anyways xD Tell me what you think :D

Info:

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea/OC Rating: T Word count: 1672 + 303 bonus Chapter count: 6/15

It’s best when we can compete

“Let’s bounce,” Sweet Pea said, tossing Ruby the spare helmet of his bike. She had a wide grin on her face as she pulled it on securely, ignoring the small voice in the back of her head telling her that helmet hair was quite unattractive. “You have all the notes?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that?” Ruby laughed, struggling to straddle his bike behind him for a second. Her hands gripped his denim vest with the Serpent logo like her life depended on it. Sweet Pea’s large arm appeared from the other side, which she was trying to lean into in order to get on the monstrosity he called his baby, pulling her on.

“Stupid question. You probably have someone else’s notes, too,” he chuckled from the front, the sound rumbling under Ruby’s fingers. “Are you on, shortcake?”

“I’m on,” she replied, giving him a tap on the shoulders before circling her arms around his middle as far as they could go. “I like the vest,” Ruby whispered in his ear, knowing that he was blushing by the color on his neck. But, Sweet Pea didn’t reply with anything other than a shrug as he tugged on his own helmet and revved their ride.

Ruby looked at the passing scenery over Sweet Pea’s shoulder, barely reaching the height to do so, and only because he was leaning into the bike towards the front. She easily discerned where they were going, to the Sunnyside Trailer Park. The buildings changed from the Northside suburban feel to the rustic, old soul of Southside. Finally, Sweet Pea parked in the middle of the trailer park and slid off the bike.

“Like my surprise?” He asked her as he undid his helmet and hung it on the handle of his bike.

“Very surprising,” Ruby shot back in a flat tone and undid her own helmet, leaving it on the back seat as she awkwardly slid off the bike. Sweet Pea reached out and caught her when she swayed, steadying her. “Smooth.” Ruby’s eyebrow rose along with the side of her lips.

“I try.” He shot back with a laugh. Sweet Pea’s large hand took hers, leading her towards one of the trailers she hadn’t been in before. He didn’t knock or anything but just barged in like he owned it. Ruby entered after him, his hand still pulling her. The inside of the trailer was quite similar to the other two she’d been in, Sweet Pea’s and FP’s. It had a small living room, kitchenette and a hall which led towards the tiny bedroom. In the living area, there were four people crammed together already, sitting around the long coffee table. Toni and Fangs were on one side, lounging on the floor in front of a floral couch, and Betty and Jughead were on the other sitting together on a small loveseat that had obviously seen better days.

“Sweet Pea! Ruby!” Toni instantly waved when she spotted them. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she smiled at the duo and waved around the small living room. “Feel free to make yourselves at home.” And, Sweet Pea did exactly that. He slid off his vest and flannel shirt, tossing them over the built-in bar that separated the kitchenette and the living area. Then, he plopped down on the couch behind Toni and Fangs. Ruby, though, was a little more reluctant. She placed her bag next to the others on the floor and reluctantly sat on the edge of the loveseat. It creaked ominously under her weight.

“That’s cold.” Fangs laughed immediately, waggling his eyebrows at her. Ruby shrugged.

“Maybe I just prefer Bughead over your trio weirdo combo.” She shot back.

“Ouch.” Fangs made a show of putting his hand over his heart like he’d suffered a direct hit.

“Are we going to study, or should I go?” Betty was the one to break their friendly banter before it could escalate, knowing that it likely would.

“I’m all for studying.” Ruby agreed. Sweet Pea groaned.

“I’m not.” He complained.

“That’s why we invited you, Sweet Pea,” Jughead supplied helpfully. “To break up the party before it gets to be the Smithsonian.” Betty and Ruby shared a laugh at the biker’s expense, which he replied to with a hard glare, mostly in the latter’s direction.

“So, shall we do this as a quiz game?” Toni asked, diffusing the tension. Ruby, Betty, and Jughead exchanged eager looks.

“You’re on.” Jughead accepted the challenge.

“Oh, no, no,” Fangs spoke up. “One of you has to come over here or it won’t be a quiz game at all, but a Wikipedia beatdown.” Reluctantly, the trio looked amongst each other and Betty stood, exchanging spots with Toni.

“Alright, now that we’re even,” Jughead began.

“Not nearly enough, but it will have to do.” Sweet Pea grumbled.

“Let’s begin with the practice test in the back?” Jughead pointedly continued.

“Sure, but, how do we make them into a quiz?” Betty asked from the other side of the desk. The couple locked eyes, making Toni and Ruby exchange a glance which clearly spelled out that they both shipped those two together in an unhealthy way. Fangs laughed, obviously seeing the exchange, which made Sweet Pea groan.

“Equal pieces?” Jughead asked at the same time as Betty turned to Toni.

“Could we have some scissors?” Ruby and Toni shared another knowing look as the latter got up to get the necessary supplies. A few minutes later, the coffee table had been cleared of all study material. In the middle was a pile of messily shuffled paper pieces, each holding a question on one side along with a number. The other side was blank. The six students had all huddled together around the table on the floor, sitting in their own groups. And, the duel started. Jughead pulled the first question, reading it out loud.

“A macromolecule with many hydrogen and peptide bonds is most likely a?” Toni groaned, knowing that it was her worst part of the material. But, Ruby instantly replied.

“A protein!” Toni checked the answer with the corresponding number on the sheet.

“One point for team Awesome.” She jotted it down with a small straight line. Betty pulled the next question, reading it for her team.

“A coenzyme is differentiated from the broader class of cofactors because it is?” Sweet Pea and Fangs exchanged a look, before huddling together to discuss it. Betty wasn’t allowed to help, because she had pulled the question. Then, reaching an agreement, Fangs replied.

“It’s organic?” He reached for the paper with answers and found the number of their question. “One point for the Serpents.”

“Hey!” Toni instantly complained. A small squabble about team naming ensued, Toni and Fangs both fighting for their own team having their gang’s name. In the end, the latter had to give up and renamed their team into ‘Smarty-pants and two idiots’, which neither of his teammates liked, but didn’t protest to.

And, the game continued. It took four rounds for team Awesome to pull ahead, as soon as they’d left the area of organic chemistry and headed into the area of various animals and their properties. But, it became clear to everyone that there was another battle going on. Whenever it wasn’t Ruby or Sweet Pea who pulled the card, the two in question would immediately answer, staring each other in the eye all the while, no consultation with their peers needed. Sweet Pea got more and more answers wrong as Ruby pushed him, allowing her team to take a shot at solving the question and getting even more points. She was riling him up, knowing that he couldn’t resist the challenge. Betty and Toni kept exchanging knowing glances, rather similar to the looks Ruby and the Serpent girl had given each other when Bughead had their moments.

Finally, with a score of twenty-five for team Awesome and twenty for Smarty-pants and two idiots, Jughead put a stop to the competition. Ruby and Sweet Pea seemed ready to jump at each other from across the small coffee table, in what sense, he didn’t want to know and didn’t care to find out.

“Why don’t you guys get us some food before we revise?” Toni tried to play the mediator between the two hotheads. Ruby looked at her briefly, before getting up.

“Pizza okay?” She asked and grabbed her bag to fish out her wallet.

“As long as it has pepperoni.” Fangs agreed.

“Of course,” Sweet Pea huffed and rose, as well, grabbing his vest and flannel from the counter. “There’s a place five minutes away by bike.” He motioned with his head for Ruby to follow him, and the two left in tense silence.

“Damn,” Fangs commented, extending his legs and stretching out over the bottom of the couch behind him. “Those two have it bad.”

“You don’t say,” Jughead sarcastically remarked. “I just hope they don’t kill each other over bio on the way.”

“No way, that was all sexual tension back there,” then, Fangs smirked and started digging through his pockets. “Ten bucks they get it on at the pizza place while waiting.” Betty’s face went red, but not Toni’s.

“You’re on,” she grinned at her friend and dug through her pockets for cash. “Twenty that they don’t even make it to the bike without getting handsy.” She slammed the dollar bills over Fangs’ on the coffee table.

“Fifteen that they return with all that tension back here.” Jughead entered the pool, placing his own money on the surface. They all looked expectantly at Betty.

“Um, ten that they don’t do anything before the study group breaks up?” She reluctantly said, making the three Serpents laugh.

“Oh, we’re taking your money, Smarty-pants.” Fangs cackled. Then, a thud sounded from outside the trailer and the teens all jumped up, eagerly flying to the window. Sure enough, Sweet Pea had Ruby pressed against the side of the trailer, kissing her passionately in the dark.

“Oh, I’m taking your money alright.” Toni cackled.

That’s all for now, folks!

Taglist (still open): @enticinghell

You can find the previous parts here:

Day 1: A way to memorize Day 2: How to prepare for a study date (?) like a proper gentleman Day 3: With proper motivation, anything is possible Day 4: PG13 PDA sugar can be good motivation Day 5: Autumn time is picnic time Day 7: Master of procrastination and his jailer Day 8: Take me anywhere, everywhere, away from here Day 9: Dirty French for beginners Day 10: I need… sleep?… no, you… Day 11: Delirium Day 12: Stay still for me Day 13: Debate? Apparently, a turn-on Day 14: Two-seater and Chinese Day 15: Unintentional intentions

Bonus

Ruby and Sweet Pea returned to the trailer over half an hour later with two boxes of pizza in their arms, sharing glances which told the study group everything they needed to know. As the food was distributed among the teens, Fangs decided to break the small silence with a question.

“I have to know, where did you two get it on?” He asked through his food. Ruby looked away, her body inching away from Sweet Pea’s side, which she had been pressed into until a second ago.

“What can I say, the pizza place has a nice bathroom.” The biker didn’t shy away from the question at all, making the petite girl slap his arm and scold him for sharing. Fangs, on the other hand, smirked at Toni.

“So, what was the stuff against the trailer, then?” the purple haired Serpent deadpanned. “Foreplay?” Ruby’s face was on fire and Jughead was chuckling uncontrollably into his third pizza slice.

“If you want to call it that.” Sweet Pea shrugged, making Ruby slap his arm again.

“A kiss. Just a kiss,” she defended her remaining dignity with a stern tone. “And nothing happened in the bathroom.” Ruby tossed a pointed look at Sweet Pea, who looked smug.

“Pretty sure that having one’s hands up your shirt isn’t nothing.”

“Oh my God!” Ruby and Betty spoke at the same time, the former hitting the tall biker’s arm repeatedly then. They broke out into a small squabble, with her trying to hit him everywhere playfully while he was defending and attempting to keep his slice of pizza out of the way of her embarrassed rage.

“Wait, how do we split the pool then?” Fangs asked, making Ruby look at him.

“What pool?”

“What?” Fangs repeated, trying to look innocent. Toni slapped her forehead with a sigh.

Now, I’m actually done hahahaha

#styomi #writing #riverdale #riverdale oc #riverdale aesthetic #riverdale drabble #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea oc #sweet pea drabble #sweet pea aesthetic #ruby wolfe #ruby wolfe aesthetic #fifteen day challenge #fanfiction #bansheehime #romantic prompts #study date prompts

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rebeccaheyman · 4 years

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reading + listening 10.20.20

My review is a day late because I allocated some of my weekly reading time to binge-watching ENOLA HOLMES on Netflix (based on a book, so had to check it out). What a charming, beautifully constructed, well-acted show! The closer we get to Election Day, the more easily-consumable content I need, which basically means non-stop Bake Off and/or novel adaptations from here to November 3rd.

Without further ado, my reviews:

All Stirred Up (Brianne Moore), aBook (narr. by Mary Jane Wells). I actually ended up receiving an ARC of this audiobook last week, despite the fact that the release was earlier this month. Not sure exactly how that happened but here we are all the same! My 3-star review from NetGalley:

I confess I chose this title based almost entirely on the fact that it's narrated by Mary Jane Wells, one of my favorite narrators of all time. MJW could narrate the phone book and I'd probably give it a fair listen, but luckily her material in Brianne Moore's ALL STIRRED UP is considerably more dynamic--not to mention a perfect canvas for MJW to flex her range, accents, and humor.

ALL STIRRED UP is pitched as _inspired by_ Austen's Persuasion; it is NOT pitched as a Persuasion retelling, which seems to have escaped several other reviewers. The trendiness of Austen comps has made me wary of contemporary titles that lay claim to a comparison, especially since many of them are so atrocious. I would much rather see Alcove and Dreamscape market this title around more realistic comps: SCHITT'S CREEK meets DON'T YOU FORGET ABOUT ME, with a helping of GREAT BRITISH BAKING SHOW heaped on for good measure. Like Mhairi McFarlane's work, ALL STIRRED UP features a slow-burn, second-chance romance, and two protagonists who have a number of personal demons to excise before they can get to the business of loving one another. The plot largely relies on external, non-romantic conflict to move forward, but Susan's family drama touched on compelling (if at times heartbreaking) issues that brought the Napier clan to life in brilliant detail.

Make no mistake, the romance itself is not the central conflict here; marketing should stress that this is contemporary fiction and/or women's fiction. While the history between Susan and Chris gives rise to emotional tension throughout the book, their relationship is NOT the central conflict -- and therefore this is not a category romance. I stress this because a good number of reviews seem to dock stars for the fact, but the book delivers on its promises if you actually read the blurb. Again, marketing might have considered a cover that doesn't lean so heavily on romance cues (feature more of the Napier family, feature Susan alone, accentuate the dueling restaurants rather than their owners, etc).

I was mostly charmed by ALL STIRRED UP, despite some emotional blows from parent/grandparent/friend deaths (in the past, not in the action proper), former drug abuse, and depictions of an anxiety disorder/ptsd. Ultimately, I found this novel heartfelt and uplifting, with the added bonus of authentic-feeling foodie content. MJW's narration is absolute perfection, and I hope we get more Moore/Wells collabs in the future.

The Project (Courtney Summers) eBook ARC (pub date: February 2021). Slam-dunk five-star read from my favorite suspense author. My review on NetGalley:

Few writers do suspense as artfully as Courtney Summers; years after reading SADIE, I can still easily recall the tense, aching anxiety I felt while reading it, and my heartfelt sadness at its conclusion. Summers' latest, THE PROJECT, delivers big when it comes to tension, aching anxiety, and heartfelt sadness all -- but it is also a masterclass in dual timeline structure, emotional depth, enigmatic characterization, and subtlety.

Lo's and Bea's relationships to one another, as well as The Unity Project and its mysterious leader, Lev Warren, propel the action of the novel forward. Lo sets out to answer a central question: Where is Bea? And second to that, is The Project a good-works-driven charitable organization, or a cult of personality with a dark underbelly? The more Lo uncovers about The Project, the less clear its purpose becomes -- while at the heart of it all stands Lev Warren, Redeemer and redeemed, lover and beloved.

Summers is one of those very rare authors writing true "crossover" -- fiction that could be as easily assigned to YA as adult audiences. To limit THE PROJECT to either category would be to deny its importance to both. About young readers, Summers recently wrote in a PW article, that they inhabit "a world where the cost of their education could be the bullet that kills their dreams, a world where they’ve witnessed the gross government mishandling of a pandemic, a world where the brutal killings of Black Americans at the hands of police go largely unanswered for, and a world where the flagrant disregard of their future by politically powerful climate change deniers is pulling us ever closer to a global crisis from which there will be no return." Lo's life reflects the complexity of today's young adult experience without dragging the specifics of _now_. The result is nuanced portrait of a young woman living a decidedly adult life, rarely of her own volition, and with the added complication of a traumatic history.

THE PROJECT is an up-all-night, read-til-its-done page-turner that kept me guessing to the end (and I'm hard to surprise!). I'm hopeful that Netflix will pick this up for series development, as it would utterly crush when translated to the screen. Looking ever so forward to more from an author who just gets better with every release.

From Blood and Ash (Jennifer L Armentrout), eBook. Imagine if you would the most reductive, hackneyed mash-up of SJM and Twihard, and you’ll get close to understanding what FROM BLOOD AND ASH is all about. For several days last week, it felt like the readers I follow on social media were obsessing over this book; they praised the OTP romance, dynamic world-building, and nonstop plot. But what I found instead was a poorly developed world rife with all the old familiar tropes, a romance that brings up serious issues of consent and gaslighting, and reliance on poorly reinvented plot lines from better trashy fantasies. Le sigh.

Perhaps it’s my old age, but I’ve lost my taste for books that spend significant time and narrative space developing the in-world cultural, social, political, and religious structures, only to “gotcha” the hero(ine) and reader by revealing it was aLL a LiE. This book does that in last-gasp attempt to salvage some conflict late in Act III, and it’s not okay.

Also not okay is the power imbalance between the heroine and her very-obviously-the-mysterious-baddie-no-one’s-ever-seen counterpart. Review after review praises the hot heat in FBaA, but I couldn’t get past the hate-banging. Men who yell TELL ME YOU WANT THIS while practically inside their partners are not enacting a sexy, heroic, impassioned version of consent; they’re just ticking a box for “not rape” that has nothing to do with actual desire. It’s a hard pass for me.

This was almost as much of a letdown as Serpent & Dove, but both titles can battle it out for Most Derivative Trash Fantasy 2020.

The Bromance Book Club and Undercover Bromance (Bromance Book Club #2) (Lyssa Kay Adams), aBook (narr. Andrew Eiden, with Maxwell Caulfield on book 1). I snagged the first of this series from my library’s digital collection when I was looking for some easy listening over the weekend, and I’m so pleased to tell you this is an incredibly charming series. Adams turns some familiar romance tropes upside-down by focusing on a group of men (the titular book club) who read romance novels -- aka manuals -- to better understand their relationships with women. This hunky group of alphas has a collectively soft underbelly; they live by the lessons gleaned from the romances die-hard readers love, such as “always run for a grand gesture” and “back story is everything.” In Bromance #1, we have excerpts from a regency romance interwoven with the primary narrative, which focuses on Gavin and Thea’s almost-totally-broken marriage. Do I wish the major marital conflict had less to do with orgasms? I do. But was it a fun, intriguing, well-narrated listen with a great secondary cast and some bona fide laughs? It was. Positive rep for speech impediments added to the magic. In Undercover Bromance, Mack and Liv work the enemies-to-lovers trope to fairly great effect, though the story touches on some troublingly dark topics (CW for sexual predation, murder, domestic abuse, abandonment, childhood trauma). Still, both Liv and Mack bring some unexpected features to the narrative, and it’s great to see the dynamic secondary cast further developed from book 1. My only real complaint is the forever-dull “dead cell phone” gimmick late in Act III. I can forgive Adams this one hackneyed indulgence, though I hope she doesn’t make a habit of it. Book 3 in this series (Crazy Stupid Bromance) release October 27, and the cat/hunk/romance novel featured on the cover is all the motivation I need to preorder.

#all stirred up #the bromance book club #undercover bromance #from blood and ash #the project #netgalley #book review #romance #fantasy

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shewhotellsstories · 7 years

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Your Fave is Problematic pt. 2: To Love is to Destroy

Fair warning this is highly critical of Rowan Whitethorn and his relationship with Aelin Ashryver Galathinius and Sarah J. Maas

Unfortunately the Throne of Glass series published five years after The Mortal Instruments has similar troubling portrayals of relationships. Throughout the series, Celaena/Aelin has more than one romantic relationship. For the purposes of this analysis, I am choosing only to focus on her permanent romantic partner Rowan Whitethorn. Celaena’s relationship with Rowan Whitethorn takes the Belligerent Sexual Tension trope to another level. The pair meet in the third book when Celaena is in a deep depression due to the events of the previous books, in particular, the brutal murder of her best friend. She is sent to Wendlyn by her ex-lover Chaol. Once there her mission is to find a way around the king’s orders and to keep her promise to her departed friend: see her kingdom freed. To get answers on overthrowing the King of Adarlan she goes to her long lost Fae Queen aunt for answers.

To say that her interactions with Rowan are tense would be an understatement.

After Celaena’s Aunt Maeve hands down the order that Celaena must train with Rowan, Rowan walks her back to the room where she’ll be staying. Neither Celaena nor Rowan is happy about this arrangement. Rowan thinks that Celaena is a spoiled child and Celaena believes him to be an arrogant brute. When Rowan expresses his displeasure for the task, Celaena says angrily, “Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.” (Heir of Fire 109) For added context, the King of Adarlan has spent a significant part of the past decade having his army slaughter magical creatures, the Fae in particular. Celaena’s entire family with the exception of her cousin Aedion and herself were among those executed on the king’s orders when she was only 8. She does not actually feel this way. Rowan is infuriated and chooses not to respond with words but with violence.

“Faster than she could sense, faster than anything had a right to be, he punched her.

She shifted enough to keep her nose from shattering but took the blow on her mouth. She hit the wall, whacked her head, and tasted blood. Good.” (Heir of Fire 109)

Rowan punched her the face, so hard that she bled and her lip was swollen. Not in a duel, not in training, not in defense, but simply because Celaena insulted him. This behavior is excused almost immediately. As Celaena is lying in bed later that night she would think to herself that she “deserved it” the following morning she would also find a tin of salve outside her door from Rowan per the orders of the queen attached to a note that said she deserved it. (Heir of Fire 114) Upon pondering the incident when thinking of the power of the Fae and Rowan’s age and experience Celaena observes that if Rowan really wanted to he could have shattered her jaw. So by only leaving her slightly bloodied and bruised the audience is supposed to believe he practiced restraint by not hurting her as badly as he physically could have. In the beginning of their acquaintance, being an immortal being Rowan makes a show of telling Celaena how much older and more experienced he is than Celaena. So having a century or two on Celaena one would think Rowan would be above the taunts and provocations of an 18-year-old girl.

In order to teach Celaena to control her magic, Rowan is determined to get Celaena hone her shifting abilities. He believes that Celaena obtaining control over these abilities are the keys to her having control over her long suppressed magical abilities. Rowan tries to get her to shift through violently provoking her in training sessions. Celaena’s sessions with Rowan often leave her bruised and sore. So much so that those she’s stationed to work alongside in the castle’s kitchen take notice. An important character trait of Celaena is that she’s proud, she hates the thought of anyone pitying her. When Emrys an older man who runs the kitchen is concerned about her bruising she simply says: “I’ve been through worse.” (Heir of Fire 225)

She then proceeds to show Emrys the scars she’s acquired throughout the course of her life. “She silently invited him to do the calculations: a life in Adarlan with Fae blood, a life in Adarlan as a woman . . . His face paled.” (Heir of Fire 226) With that, he drops it and orders Luca a fellow half-breed Fae who works under him to do the same. In further rationalizing Rowan’s treatment of her within the text, the morning after a particularly brutal training session Celaena recalls that she’d been bloodied up more at the hands Arobynn, her trainer, for disobeying orders. This passage is telling the audience that because Celaena is capable of violence, is not a stranger to being treated violently, and has been by her own account hurt worse by others. Rowan’s violence towards her is inconsequential. In this respect, her strength is used against her and used as evidence that because she theoretically can take a abuse, she is incapable of being victimized.

During an argument that takes place during a training session, Rowan grabs Celaena’s tongue and pinches it. Then when she swears at him once he lets go of her tongue he presses her against a tree and bites her neck so hard that she bleeds and shifts into her at this point elusive Fae form. There is a sexual component in biting for the Fae. However, it’s ambiguous if he bit Celaena out of rage, lust, or with the purpose of getting her to shift. Either way, in the end when after realizing from the taste of her blood that she’s been recently romantically involved with someone else, he promises not to bite her again not out of respect for her or her personal space, but out of respect for the desires of a man he’s never even met saying, “You don’t bite the women of other males.” (Heir of Fire 280) Unfortunately, this isn’t the end of it. Rowan proceeds to berate her for her lack of self-control:

“You’re worthless.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He went on, “You would probably have been more useful to the world if you’d actually died ten years ago.” (Heir of Fire 283)

At this point in the story, Celaena is grief stricken and depressed. She truly believes that the world and the people she has grown close to in the years that followed her parents' death would be better off if she had died along with the rest of her family. However, that is the final straw. Celaena decides to leave and be done with Rowan. However, this doesn’t last. She journeys away from the castle and is attacked in the forest and nearly killed by skinwalkers (monsters) only to be saved by Rowan and with his help they are able to defeat the skinwalkers. He then informs her after they work together to defeat the skinwalkers, that she isn’t leaving. This is meant to be a somewhat redeeming moment for Rowan, despite his past treatment of her how bad could a guy who saves her life be?

After this temporarily Rowan becomes slightly less harsh and then goes back to treating her horribly. When Emrys tells Rowan that the way he’s “training” Celaena is crushing her spirit Rowan shows no sign of regret but does decide to change his training tactics and the two begin to bond. So much so that at the end of the third book Celaena saves Rowan’s life and he swears a blood oath to her. Emrys is interested in Celaena in part because he’s worked out who her parents are, but also despite having only known her for a short time, he can see that she’s lost all hope. Upon the third book when the audience is introduced to Rowan one could draw the conclusion that he’s either not as observant as Emrys or simply doesn’t care that Celaena’s at an all time low. This relationship starts with Rowan figuratively and literally kicking her while she is down. Later we learn that Rowan himself is mourning because his wife died. The narrative is at first he’s in so much pain he can’t connect with anyone else. Later on, it’s revealed that Maeve had his wife killed to “break” him. (Empire of Storms 1443) These revelations remove responsibility from Rowan for actions in a number of ways: Firstly this suggests that his cruelty wasn’t really his fault but Maeve’s. Secondly, the audience is meant to feel for him because according to this information he’s not an abuser, just a man who lost his wife.

When Rowan and Celaena become romantically involved the fourth book Rowan’s behavior towards Celaena shifts from being cruel and violent to being possessive and controlling.

“It’s not just your business, not anymore. You will take me along with you the next time.”

“The next time I sneak out,” she seethed, “if I catch you following me like some overprotective nursemaid, I will—”

“You’ll what?” He stepped up close enough to share breath with her, his fangs flashing. In the light of the lantern, she could clearly see his eyes—and he could see hers as she silently said, I don’t know what I’ll do, you bastard, but I’ll make your life a living hell for it.

He snarled, and the sound stroked down her skin as she read the unspoken words in his eyes. Stop being stubborn. Is this some attempt to cling to your independence?

And so what if it is? she shot back. Just—let me do these things on my own.

“I can’t promise that,” he said, the dim light caressing his tan skin, the elegant tattoo. (Queen of Shadows 635)

His possessive, controlling, paternalistic behavior in a romantic relationship was excused before it even starts. Celaena and Rowan officially become involved in the fourth book, but when we are first introduced to the fae one of the first things we learn about the species is that fae men cannot help their alpha male behavior. It’s in their blood:

“It’s in our blood,” Luca said, lifting his chin. “It is our duty, honor, and life’s mission to make sure our families are cared for. Especially our mates.”

“And it makes you a thorn in our side,” Emrys clucked. “Possessive, territorial beasts.” The old man strode to the sink, setting down the cool kettle for Celaena to wash. “My mate means well, lass...” (Heir of Fire 288)

This portrayal of fae male behavior as well-meaning and noble echoes the unfortunate reality that abuse victims are sometimes told that their abuser's abusive behavior is for their own good. It also echoes one of the most damaging myths about dating and domestic violence: men simply cannot help themselves, therefore, cannot be held responsible for the damage they do. (Deffenbacher 926)

Within the relationship Rowan’s behavior is even further rationalized, simply because he’s not human:

“Before you call me a territorial Fae bastard, allow me to apologize and explain that it is very difficult—”

“Rowan.” He stilled. She crossed the small lingering distance between them, every step like the answer to some question she’d asked from the moment her soul had sparked into existence. “You are not human. I do not expect you to be.” (Empire of Storms 936)

This could have been a turning point for Rowan, instead, his poor behavior is further excused. In Throne of Glass specifically, the possessive and territorial behavior mentioned is only ever addressed as a joke or in passing and the fae males who exhibit such behavior face no real consequences for it, therefore have no incentive to change. They never change and yet Celaena and other characters paired with Fae men stay with them. Passing this sort of behavior off as an endearing quality is irresponsible. With every passing moment that the toxic masculinity of Rowan and others is laughed off, it is normalized. (Taylor 390) Additionally, in the fifth book of the series, it is revealed that Rowan and Celaena are mates, meaning soulmates. Which unfortunately tells the audience that Rowan and Celaena’s relationship cannot be unhealthy because they were born for each other. (Deffenbacher 924)

For the purpose of this analysis, I will go with the definition that defines toxic masculinity as society making manhood synonymous with violence, sex, dominance, and aggression. Portrayals of relationships like Rowan and Celaena’s in this fashion rewards, reinforces, and normalizes this concept of manhood and ignores the very real danger in defining manhood in terms of violence and dominance. Even if one could overlook the toxic masculinity and the deeply unsettling way that sex and violence are so casually linked in this relationship, a lot of Celaena’s character development is sacrificed to validate her relationship with Rowan. For all her pretend arrogance there’s one thing can’t truly forgive herself for: living. She spends much of the series hating herself for surviving when her parents, her governess, her best friend, and her first love died so brutally. This guilt is so crippling she spends much of the series running away from her past. Until she can’t any longer. Exploring her magic in the third book also forces her to remember her childhood and remember the person she was before everything went so horribly wrong. Due to a series of events she is kidnapped by demonic creatures who force her to relive her most painful memories. This causes her to see her life clearly for the first time and decide to honor her loved ones by living. And yet, in the following book, she says she wants to live because of Rowan. “She said softly, “You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.” (Queen of Shadows 1067)

It goes without saying that Celaena’s will to live really should not come from a man, but this moment undid a lot of her growth from the previous book. Even her lack of fear of her once mentor is attributed to Rowan. In the text, she isn’t afraid because she is no longer a child, but because now she has Rown. This situation isn’t helped by the fact that once she and Rowan become romantically involved every other friendship and or relationship in her life is put on the back burner.

To be continued...

#my senior thesis #anti sjm #anti rowaelin #celaena sardothien #anti rowan whitethorn #anti sarah j maas #anti tog #feminism #media literacy #tw abuse

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smalltragedy · 4 years

Text

hllo this is my second child i think theyre p grand n i love them a lot. as always pls like if u’d like to plot i’d lov to interact with everybody

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

mbti & temperament: esfp & improvisor / sanguine.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: homosexual.

pinterest.

biography.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

personality & facts.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe.

wanted plots.

#( gabriel de leon. ) about. / imaginary enemy.#irvingintro #violence tw

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