#they are both pretty heavy handed metaphors i think its just which one i want to go for LOL the first is more in line with other-- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muertawrites · 4 years

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The Dark of the Moon (Zuko x Reader)

Summary: Late night insomnia turns into a conversation about love, and Zuko makes an interesting discovery about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2,100

Author’s Note: You can thank Avatar being on Netflix and rekindling my childhood obsession for this one. I wrote this mostly as a dialogue / pacing exercise, but it’s also a bit therapeutic since I can actually relate to Zuko more than I realized or could have ever foreseen watching this show as a ten year old. Enjoy a little emotional romantic fantasy on behalf of a preteen crush and all the toxic friends I’ve ever had. ✌

~ Muerta

Zuko usually slept with you. It started one late night during a mutual bout of insomnia, in which you ran into him as you both wandered the halls of the Western Air Temple. You hardly knew him, but he sat with you and talked about everything that night - anything that wasn’t related to the war or either of your pasts that had been torn apart by it. He surprised you with his dry, even-toned sense of humor, as well as with his intelligence in not only combat but literature and philosophy as well; being a healer and a fortune teller by trade, you found a lot to talk about with him.

As the nights awake became more common, you and Zuko spent more of them together; sometimes you’d wait until you happened upon him in the halls, others one of you would designate a place to meet. Eventually, one of you would go directly to the other’s room and you’d sit, sharing whatever light or heavy thoughts happened to plague your minds. You learned a lot about him in those nights, and grew to feel proud of how far he’d come in such a short time - you often helped others, those much older than yourselves, over months to scale the internal struggles he had, and he’d managed to do so on his own. The more you gave to him, the more he gave back, and it soon became commonplace to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing as he lay in his sleeping bag on the other end of your room.

And that’s exactly what woke you up - the strange, still energy of your bedroom that indicated his resting place was empty. You rolled over, unable to spy his silhouette under the moonlit windowsill, and you rose, your feet carrying you to where you were certain he would be.

It was a gorgeous night, with a gentle breeze ruffling the crisp air. You found Zuko in the courtyard, gazing out over the fog veiled landscape under the swell of the full moon. Without a word, you sat beside him, watching the clouds roll by like ships on a silent ocean. His chest churned in turmoil, so intensely you could feel it in your own.

“Apparently, I can’t sleep without you anymore,” you said. “How selfish of you to have problems that keep you up at night.”

Zuko huffed out a soft chuckle, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift. He leaned back onto his palms, craning his neck backward and allowing the wind to tousle his ash-black hair.

“You didn’t need to come out here,” he told you gently. “It’s not your job to help me fix myself.”

“It never has been,” you replied. “I’ve never fixed anyone. All I ever do is listen and recite a few proverbs; everyone comes to their own conclusions in the end.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko retorted. “I’ve seen you heal. You can do things not even Katara can do, just with whatever happens to be growing nearby. It’s incredible.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Physical healing and emotional healing are two super different things,” you told him. “Emotional wounds can only really be healed by the people who have them. I mean, unless you want me to crack open your chest and poke around at your heart for a little while.”

Zuko chuckled again, the tenseness of his muscles easing up just slightly. He opened his palm and spawned a softly glowing flame, both of you watching it flicker in the cool night air.

“I wish I’d been born a water bender,” he mused. “Something that would do good for others. All fire does is destroy.”

You were silent for a moment, watching the thoughts swirl, tormented, behind his eyes. You thought of all the times you’d seen him smile, how his happiness made his handsome features all the more radiant and caused your stomach to bubble with joy. The memory shot a spike through your chest.

“... You know, we only ever see one part of the moon,” you commented, breaking the quiet. “Everything behind that - the dark side - we don’t really consider, even though it’s always there and is as much a part of the moon as the side that’s in front of us.”

Zuko smirked at you, distinguishing the flame in his hand.

“Reciting a proverb at me?” he teased.

You grinned.

“This one’s more like a metaphor,” you admitted cheekily. “That tea I make, the one that tastes awful but makes pain completely disappear?”

Zuko nodded.

“I need fire to make it,” you continued. “I have to roast the ingredients over an open flame before boiling them. Without fire, I couldn’t do most of my healing; it would be too painful without the tea to help.”

Zuko said nothing, but you could sense your words sinking into the cracks in his troubled thinking.

“Fire is heat and light,” you added. “It’s just as important to life as water or earth or air. Every element is capable of destruction or creation - there isn’t a single one that’s inherently good or bad. The person that controls them is the only one who determines that.”

There was another long pause, in which you busied yourself noting the different wild plants growing between the stones that paved the courtyard. You listed the different medicines you could make with each, the process calming you.

“I’ve done some pretty shitty things to people I care about in order to embrace my goodness,” Zuko finally spat. The bitterness in his tone stung you. You turned to him, and for a split second you caught a familiar, rageful glimmer in his eye; the sight made your own temper flare.

“Zuko, don’t do that to yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t just your father who hurt you and you know that.”

“I know,” he snapped, cutting off the end of your words. “I still care about her, though. I don’t even know if she really ever cared about me, but I still… I still miss her.”

Your ribs seemed to cave in, crushing your heart and lungs. He’d told you about Mai many times, and all you ever saw was that the darkness in her drew out the darkness in him; it even hung over you, clouding out the comfort you felt with Zuko and replacing it with unease and doubt. You feared there was no place in his heart for you - not while Mai still remained in it, no matter how badly her memory made him bleed.

“It’s hard,” you choked out. “I still miss some of the people who hurt me, too.”

That was all you could manage to say. You pulled your knees to your chest, half-burying your face in the fabric of your night dress as you forced the tears welling in the corners of your eyes not to flow.

This is what you get, you scolded yourself. This is what you get for feeling things for people you know could never feel the same about you.

A sensation of warmth curling around your shoulders made you jolt. Instinctively, you inched away, glancing in Zuko’s direction as he retracted the arm that had draped around you. You expected him to look away, but he didn’t - his pale amber eyes instead locked with yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You hold your head so high… I forget sometimes that you’re trying to heal, too.”

His words caused your tears to spill, though you didn’t cry; your face remained stony, and no sobs shook you. Your tears fell as easily as water from a cliff’s edge, impeded by nothing but the will of gravity.

“... The cards you lent me,” Zuko said after a pause, almost blurting the words. “I’ve been reading them, to help me let go of everything I left behind. I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

A few weeks ago, you’d given him a deck of cards you used for fortune telling. Each card depicted a different object, element, or scene, and were laid out in combinations that gave insight into a person’s spiritual path. You liked them more than other forms of fortune telling, as it encouraged its readers to make their own assumptions and drive their own fates instead of having it simply told to them. You gave your deck to Zuko so he could reflect on something finite, instead of getting consumed by his own thoughts. It was exactly what you used them for, and you knew they would help.

“Why?” you asked softly.

“I drew a card that didn’t make sense,” he told you. “I laid down the Tides, then the Crossed Blades, and then… I pulled the Badger Mole. The other two I understand - one is for movement and change, the other is for strength in allies, but I… can’t figure out what the Badger Mole is supposed to mean.”

“Badger moles are strong, powerful,” you explained, speaking dispassionately from memory, “but they’re gentle. The card represents the duality of both. They mate for life, too, so it also represents love and companionship.”

As you spoke, you felt a meteor crash between you and Zuko. His face fell, dumbfounded, as he looked at you, his eyes darting minutely back and forth as you watched the pieces mend together in his head.

“What do you feel?” you whispered, part of you terrified of his answer.

“... I feel like I’m fighting the tide,” Zuko replied, his tone awestruck. “It’s pushing me to shore, but I keep trying to swim back out to sea.”

The corners of your lips curled upwards slightly, your cheeks still sticky with tears.

“It’s really scary, huh?” you said. “Loving another person.”

“Yeah... especially when you’ve never known what it feels like before,” Zuko added softly.

You reached out, tentatively resting your palm against his cheek. His hand rose to close over yours, the sensation trembling you to your core.

“How many times have you pulled the Badger Mole?” you asked.

“Every time,” Zuko breathed. “I’m so stupid for not realizing. You make me feel wild and calm all at once. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I see you or even think of you, and I thought it was just fear or sadness. But… you don’t make me want to lash out like I used to, with my father and Azula and Mai… just the thought of you makes me want to be the best person I can be. Even though I know you already accept me for not being that person.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat defeatedly, your knees falling away from your chest and crossing in front of you. Your body was heavy, but your head felt light.

“I love you, Zuko,” you murmured. “But I’m afraid.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his eyes closing as he steadied his erratic breathing.

“If you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I think lovers are supposed to do.”

The word made every organ in your body jump to your throat. Lovers. Your limbs felt weak, but your heart felt strong with Zuko holding you.

Without thinking, you took his face in your hands and kissed him. It wasn’t hard and passionate like you expected, but firm, gentle, his lips pressing to yours like two palms grasped in an assuring embrace. He lay one of his large, able hands on the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin.

When you finally broke apart, Zuko gazed at you with a soft, forlorn expression. His fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much,” he said. “It must kill you.”

You shook your head, a soft smile forming on your lips, still red from where Zuko had kissed them.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “I know some people from my past you’d happily drive a knife into.”

Zuko chuckled, the light, airy smile you saw when he was truly happy spreading to each of his cheeks. The spike that drove itself through your heart when you thought of it earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet warmth of a low flame on a cold night. With him, you were safe.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Zuko suggested, taking your arm to help you stand.

His hand slipped easily into yours, your fingers twining together. He leaned forward and kissed you again, his lips only grazing yours, causing your skin to buzz with the sensation.

“... Do you think we’ll have to talk to Aang about this?” you asked as you walked back to your room.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at you, confused.

“He is your great-grandfather,” you elaborated with jest. “I should probably do the chivalrous thing and ask for his blessing or something.”

Zuko laughed, nudging you with his shoulder so that you stumbled over your feet. You shoved him back, to which he took you by the waist and wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing your cheek.

“He probably won’t care,” he replied. “But my uncle will love you.”

#muerta's works #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfic #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #lmao when you don't know how to end a fic

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

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Inej Ghafa x fem! Reader - Close Enough

A/n: So.... Ya I this wasn't a request I just really inspired to write about Inej today and yes I did write this all today! Also this fic goes (not full, full on) but more with Inej's struggles with touch with her S/O because I see a whole lot for Kaz (which isn't a bad thing keep writing those fics I enjoy them)! But like zero for Inej! So I made one, I hope ya'll enjoy!

Warnings: The Menagerie, mentions of sexual assault, swearing, mentions of panic attacks and flashbacks, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: You and Inej have been dancing around each both knowing that you like each other, yet Inej struggles with her past when she's around you

(The gif is not mine and I do not own shadow and bone or it's characters!)

Her eyes slide over Y/n's body admiring her beauty and the way her y/h/c locks moved with the wind from the sea.

The ship rocked back and forth and Inej couldn't help but think about the way the L/n girl moved. Although Y/n wasn't silent or fluid with her motions, the girl was still graceful in her own not very refined way.

The way she held herself, the way she walked was all so effortless and bold, nothing like the captain of the very ship who was always so lithe and elegant. Yet Inej couldn't stop thinking or looking at the girl who never stayed silent. Yet Inej would never come close to the white tiger named Y/n, and both already knew that.

The deafening sound of the sea and storm was broken by the only person who could become louder and break an unbreakable silence; Y/n.

Inej could hear her footsteps coming closer and closer. She could hear her breathing even if it wasn't heavy, and most of all she could hear her close-mouthed giggles because if they were open-mouthed it would grab all the Saints in this world's attention.

Listening wasn't an option with Y/n you had to pay attention. Her whole aura demanded it, and Inej was starting to think even the Saints could hear her sometimes because that girl had a power over her no one had ever had she didn't even realize it.

"Hello, Captain!" Y/n sings leaping towards Inej's side eagerly.

Instantly Inej's senses are filled with the white tiger's perfume and it overwhelms her with emotions and memories of her past; her past in the Menagerie.

Intentionally the girl moves closer to Inej when she doesn't say something right away, and she can physically feel the hands ripping at her purple silks trying to place them apart like monsters to get to what was underneath. The kohl was around her eyes again, the bells on her ankles and the painted spots that really made her seem like an animal were on her shoulders.

She could smell the incense in her room, and the gold metal bars on the windows. It was metaphorically a cage but it was also a literal one. Inej wasn't herself anymore she was just a seemingly useless lynx only good for one thing; then she feels a hand creep up and up...

Snapping out of her trance she harshly backs away from L/n but she's still as silent as ever and that alone makes her want to scream out her lungs because she just wants to be heard.

She thought that maybe taking down the Slavers would help her find peace, she thought being away from the barrel and the Menagerie would help her hopefully start over. Really she thought she was over this, the flashbacks, the full-on panic attacks where she can't have anyone touch her for about an hour or more.

In reality, though, all she really wants is to be able to be loud and to be able to touch Y/n romanticly, all she wants is to not feel the dirty hands of the men every time she brushes against her lover.

Inej Ghafa wants to be free of the cage that she thought she had escaped, yet every time she thinks that she's pulled right back in. Clawing at the bars trying to flee yet again.

That was why the captain of the Wraith would not come close enough to the white tiger.

Guilt flash's in Y/n's eyes and she backs away, immediately putting even more space in between the two giving Inej some space to breathe.

"Sorry." The girl whispers backing up even further but never leaving nor taking her y/c/e orbs off of Ghafa.

Inej takes a breath in and she can no longer smell Y/n's perfume and the incense from the Menagerie, but she longs to smell Y/n's scent forever. And Inej is glad that Y/n's skin isn't against her's anymore but inside she's screaming because that's the only thing she wants to feel.

Inej rubs her hands over her eyes feeling so tired of all of this; if she could she would just kiss the tiger on the lips but because of fucking trauma she couldn't.

Another thought that is always at the back of her mind is ever so present at the moment - because what if she never gets to touch Y/n? Why could she touch basically anyone else but her?

"It's not your fault, you know that okay? I just-"

But Y/n being the loud person that she is, she cuts Inej off. "But do you know?"

She snaps her head up meeting the white tiger's eyes that seem to be blazing holes into her.

"Do you know it's not your fault Ghafa?"

Once again her breath is caught in her throat and the captain of the Wraith - the fearsome captain who tames the seas and takes down slavers is rendered speechless in eight words.

"Because even if you do, do you know I don't need you to touch me or even come into a five-meter radius of me?"

"That's not fair to you." She argues.

"I just want you to love me!" Y/n starts raising her voice and tears were in her eyes showing how serious the situation really was.

"You know I can't do that without-"

"For fucks shake Inej! I don't need any of the extra touchings or even getting close to me! I JUST WANT YOUR LOVE! I don't care how you show it! I just want to be yours!"

Y/n's eyes widen and panic impulses through her eyes and for the first time in a long time everything is silent. Even the ocean, even the storm, the wind, Y/n has stopped being loud and the world is awfully quiet like it needs to run after her noise. Her brightness.

Soundless tears drip from both of the girl's eyes as Inej takes a step forward the floorboards of the ship creaking beneath her as she comes closer. Not insanely close, but that wasn't the point.

"Okay." Inej murmurs.

"What?"

"I want to be yours too."

Suddenly Y/n smiles and the world brightens again and the noise of the universe is back and Inej is no longer creaking on the floorboards she's silent again but she's pretty sure she has someone else to teach her how to be loud.

Taking four steps forwards she could probably reach out and grab Y/n's hand if she wanted to, and it wouldn't be unexpected or anything of the sort. It would be on her terms.

Carefully and even a bit terrified Inej reach's her hand out towards Y/n's and she lets them brush together.

As soon as she feels her skin against her's she forgets how to breathe and fireworks must have gone off in her stomach because that's how she was feeling. It was like jumping from rooftop to rooftop without the smoke and grim of Ketterdam, it was like sailing the ocean without the fear of drowning.

Though she quickly pulls away knowing any longer she'll be pulled back into memories of her past again. Disappointment folds her veins and Y/n could obviously tell that it was already wearing her down.

"Little by little Captain! Remember step by step!"

Her voice then takes a more serious but soothing tone.

"Don't push yourself remember what I asked of you? Your love, not your body. We got to four steps today? Well maybe in a month to a year you'll get to five, I don't care! I'll be proud either way! But for right now this is close enough."

Inej grins up at the woman standing before her.

"You're amazing you know that right?"

Y/n simply flicks her hair. "Oh, I know!"

They both laugh and it rings throughout the earth reaching all the way to the Saints and they finally looked down from the heavens to see the two most remarkable girls laughing standing five feet apart holding love for each other that was so powerful they could see it spread.

It was a power they didn't know existed among the humans and they saw its potential to spread everywhere but it stopped at one point.

But that was close enough.

Words 1400

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626

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lioncunt · 3 years

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any way the wind blows review!!!

gonna put it under a cut but tl;dr i really really loved it and even the things that i was on the fence about i’ve decided i love as well lmfao

so i kind of knew going into both this and wayward son that the plot wouldn’t really EVER be as narratively satisfying as carry on’s. it would definitely be interesting and have a lot of cool thematic elements, but in terms of being a grand deconstruction of the “chosen one” genre, it couldn’t ever get better than carry on. and i’m so happy rainbow didn’t try to MAKE it that. she didn’t pull a supernatural and up the stakes to impossible, outlandish degrees. both wayward son and awtwb had realistic, fascinating plots that served as a metaphor for the internal struggles of the characters.

the reason i’m beginning this review by talking about the plot is because it’s what i’ve seen the most criticism directed towards. and like i DO get it, i also was taken aback at first at how the actual plot is kind of background noise for the first couple hundred pages. but like...i think it WORKS. again, this whole trilogy is a deconstruction. that’s its PURPOSE. obviously it’s doing other things as well, but it started by taking this well-worn and well-loved trope and completely turning it on its head, giving us permission to acknowledge all the damage it causes and how our love of this type of story is honestly kind of harmful. we turn off that part of our brains when we read harry potter or something else with traumatized child protagonists, in order for us to actually enjoy it, but the simon snow trilogy has always said, “hey, this is kind of fucked up, huh? you’re allowed to think that.”

anyway, the way that translates to the plot here is that there’s not always some huge mystical big bad, or obviously evil antagonist. the horror can be going on in the world around you, in the background of your day-to-day life dealing with your own shit, creeping up on you until suddenly your loved ones are spouting off nonsense that is an absolutely CHILLING allegory for eugenics, by the way, which i’ve seen NOBODY talk about. the clear political parallels were so well done, but not heavy-handed, and they worked wonderfully as an ending to this story. simon at the end being a target for an angry mob, who are victims of intense ableism themselves (the metaphor of being a weak mage = having a disability), how these religious extremists will point at what they deem abnormal and use them as a scapegoat, the disgusting “survival of the fittest” mentality leading to “i can make this society great again” - it was all just incredibly well written, in my opinion. and the fact that it happened so slowly, in the background, made it all the better. you don’t really notice how bad it’s getting until it’s BAD.

it also, again, works so well as a manifestation of the characters’ inner strife. others have put it better than me already, so i won’t talk about it too much, but the fact that the book is saying you don’t need to be like everyone else in order to accomplish great things and have a good life, you don't need to have magic, you don’t need to be human, you don’t need to be neurotypical or able-bodied or straight or white or ANYTHING these people will have you believe in order to make you obedient to them and hateful to others -- it’s fantastic.

this kind of segues into the other big criticism i’m seeing, which is simon and baz’s one-day breakup. again, this has already been analyzed well, so i won't ramble about it, but wayward son was their breakup. metaphorically speaking. and i’m glad that it didn’t take some big, grand moment for them to get back together, even though it would have been narratively cathartic. that’s not how life works - it was so much better and realistic to have simon face the harsh difficulties of TRYING than dragging out a separation plot line that would have added NOTHING to his character. or baz’s. the only thing about their entire relationship that i would have done a bit differently is shorten the timeline, because a year and a half is a very long and honestly unrealistic time to go in a relationship without talking about sexual history or going on dates, even if there’s a lot of baggage. but that’s not that big a deal and i’m easily able to look past it.

(as a side note I'm getting annoyed at seeing all these takes that there’s too much sexual content. like i get it because the first two books are solidly YA and this is being marketed as YA even though it’s definitely NA, but like....sex is important. sex scenes and sexual content are an extremely important part of depicting the human experience. and lack of sex as well!! every single intimate scene between them was NOT super graphic and had such incredibly important significance narratively and character-wise - and yeah that includes any kinks that were brought up, like jesus they’re in their 20s and have been in a non-sexual relationship for a year and a half i think it’s pretty fucking relevant that there are intimate scenes!!! anyway moving on.)

i really loved penny and shepard’s plot - their relationship was so wonderful and charming and excellent for their characters, and i only wish we could have gotten their demon plot threaded into the larger picture, because after shepard was cured it felt like they were just standing there. that’s one of my very few complaints about the book. but they’re such good characters and i love them SO MUCH.

AND THANK GOD FOR AGATHA AND NIAMH. like i cannot put into words how fucking happy i was when i realized where that was headed. the cinematic nature of agatha and niamh helping the goat give birth while simon’s flying in the chapel and being targeted by a mob was just. so cool like i can’t even describe it it was so coooooool and then agatha and niamh KISSING and agatha found her PLACE and I'm so happy for her.

just in general the characters and relationships were fucking exquisite. i can’t help but love the way RR writes, especially her dialogue. it’s so real and three dimensional and her characters truly come alive and i care about them and love them so much. i’m so happy they’re happy, i wouldn’t have been able to stand it if they weren’t.

and everything got wrapped up so well in my opinion!! i don’t know what the hell people are talking about when they say they still have questions, like girl what about??? simon found his family, simon got a sword that isn’t tied to trauma, baz found out that he’ll get to grow old with simon, all their families are okay, penny and shepard are in love, agatha’s herding goats and a lesbian, there will probably be new threats and antagonists but they'll be able to handle them, life will continue to be difficult but they’ll get through it like WHAT do you not understand what’s not clicking i genuinely want to know.

ok actually i have ONE single question and that’s. did baz pick up the sword at the end. because the way it’s written it sounds like he did and i like do not understand that at all. someone answer please.

anyway that’s my review 10/10 would recommend

#any way the wind blows #awtwb spoilers #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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The differences between Takato and Haru

(This meta was requested by @digitalgate02, who also assisted me with a large portion of it. Thank you for your help!)

Takato and Haru often beg a lot of comparisons because of the fact they go so against the usual “brash hero” archetype common to not only Digimon but also shounen franchises in general, being significantly more mild-mannered (on a language level, they’re also the only Digimon protagonists to date who use the more polite boku first-person pronoun instead of the more assertive ore). Haru himself even points out in Appmon’s very first episode that this kind of personality would normally be more suited towards a side character than a protagonist!

Because of that, Haru is often considered to be a spiritual rehashing of Takato, and many have tried to make close parallels between the two, but while the desire to make comparison is naturally understandable, the truth is that beyond surface temperament, the two characters actually have very little in common. In fact, both Tamers and Appmon take rather different approaches to their definitions of a “conventional hero”, and that results in both Takato and Haru having very different roles in the plot.

In many cases, the role of a protagonist in a narrative has a deep relationship with what kind of narrative it is in the first place, and especially what kinds of themes it wants to present. For instance, in the case of 02, you could argue that the story is more “about” Ken than it is about Daisuke, since both major arcs in the story are about his fall and reformation, but when you consider the major themes present in 02′s narrative about purpose in life and pragmatism, Daisuke’s way of life and overall attitude are vital elements in relation to them, and it’s why he ends up being the “protagonist” (or, more accurately, the character at the forefront of the story) despite Ken’s heavier connection to it.

Tamers and Appmon have a number of similarities in storytelling, mainly that they’re both “hard sci-fi” stories in comparison to other entries that have stronger fantasy elements, and do have a certain amount of crossover in terms of dealing with AI-related topics. However, the actual “nature” of each work ultimately turns out to be different, and thus impacts how each of their protagonists is presented.

I heavily dislike calling Tamers a “deconstruction” of the monster collecting genre or of Digimon Adventure, mainly because of how much that term has been exploited to stereotype works in a genre as being things they’re not, or less nuanced than they actually are (as one Twitter user aptly put it: “a deconstruction is when I like something in a genre I disrespect”). I absolutely do not care for the idea of claiming that Adventure or 02 were somehow less nuanced or “deep” than Tamers just because they were more idealistic or more subtle about it, because they sure as hell had a lot of deeper things hidden between the lines if you bother to look out for them, and I also don’t like the implication that Tamers exists to criticize Adventure for supposedly being too naive. It is true, however, that Tamers re-examines a lot of Adventure (and 02)’s concepts in a different context; while Tamers isn’t as strong of a theme narrative, and it’s much more difficult to say there's an overarching message that encompass most or all of the series as much, it does indulge in a lot of thought experiments and smaller subplots that wouldn’t be possible in Adventure, and Takato thus has an important position in facilitating those kinds of thought experiments. The overall franchise metaphors of “growing” (evolving) alongside your Digimon (or, at least, something different from you) and the symbolism associated with it are still more than present, so the Tamers way of showcasing it is in mainly presenting the question of how that kind of goal would even be achievable in the first place when things aren’t as clear-cut.

In particular, Takato serves to address how someone who doesn’t fulfill the typical protagonist mold would cope with situations that somewhat resemble those in Adventure, what would happen when a Digimon partner is fundamentally different from oneself, and how one would still be able to grow alongside such an existence. Thus, his own character arc is more relevant to his own personal growth in accordance with interacting with Guilmon and what he gets out of his journey. This is especially because one thing particularly unique to Tamers is how it portrays Digimon as significantly more feral and different in mentality to humans, which means that he had a much higher personal hurdle to begin with, and thus his personal story and what he gets out of it becomes of significantly more importance.

Appmon, on the other hand, very much is an overarching theme narrative and isn’t exactly subtle about it, with one of its biggest questions being about what’s important in a world that’s getting increasingly controlled and regulated by modern technology that’s getting more and more intelligent. Haru is thus the embodiment of Appmon’s answer to that question: “to choose to be kind” -- and the less-than-subtle invocation of the word “protagonist” ends up having a very different meaning invoked in its final episode.

At the very least, on top of both being rather unconventional protagonists, both Tamers and Appmon do start with Takato and Haru both expressing a desire to be more like one who could go on some kind of adventure (Takato’s version isn’t as verbal, but his way of enthusiastically putting on goggles as proof that he’s a Tamer in Tamers episode 2 carries heavy implications of wanting to emulate the heroes he saw on TV).

However, this is where we get our first difference: Takato proudly claims his newfound status as the series protagonist, whereas Haru is unsure and self-conscious about it -- Haru himself is the one who initially considers himself not cut out for the role despite Yuujin personally believing he does and Gatchmon trying to urge him into it. And, in fact, this is actually the difference that kicks off where their paths entirely diverge.

Takato is often said to be unconventional for a protagonist, but when you really think about it, it’s not like Taichi or Daisuke were exactly models of typical protagonist tropes; while you could call them “hot-blooded”, in the end, Taichi’s standout traits have more to do with natural charisma and sometimes even being too chill, and Daisuke, for all he seems assertive, is actually extremely deferential. So why is Takato still such a standout in comparison?

Well, when you look at the detailed profiles of all twelve of the main Adventure and 02 cast, you might notice something: all of them are naturally selfless people who put others before themselves without a second thought. On the other hand, when you look at Takato, you might realize that this is very much not the case, especially during the early parts of the series. As much as Takato is a “soft” person, he’s not necessarily very “kind” or “nice”, especially during the early parts of the series; he can get possessive or clingy, petty, or even a little arrogant (Tamers episode 11 basically has him go on a mini-power trip based on his card combo having worked so well in the prior episode, which ends up becoming part of his isolation from Hirokazu and Kenta in the following one). Moreover, Takato loses his emotional composure and becomes a crying mess as early as Tamers episode 2, and while it’s not like other characters in Adventure and 02 hadn’t been prone to emotional outbursts, combine it with the above facts and you get the take-home that Takato isn’t “soft” out of an active choice to be so as much as he’s just really, really lacking in emotional mettle to begin with.

To be fair to him, Takato has to deal with quite a bit more stress during the early parts of Tamers than Haru has to during the equivalent parts; having to deal with a Digimon partner that’s outright feral at times and doesn’t have a fully intelligent understanding of how to communicate is a pretty rough thing to start off with. That said, Takato is fairly cowardly even in situations that don’t necessarily have to do with this, it’s just that this makes it worse -- but it means a lot that Takato himself is willing to put in that much effort in bonding with Guilmon despite being initially intimidated by what he’d just created, and that perhaps is what’s the beginnings of how he continues to develop that strength of heart for the rest of the series (and also extends to how he’s the one who connects with Grani).

This is in contrast to how Haru is described by Yuujin at the end of Appmon episode 1, in which Yuujin states that Haru is already cut out to be a protagonist because he’s a kind person -- in other words, Takato is someone who is not cut out to be a protagonist of any kind of adventure at the start of Tamers, even though he thinks he now gets the luxury of being one due to the circumstances he’s thrust into, whereas Haru is already someone with the potential to be one even at the start of the series, but initially lacks the self-confidence to consider himself able to be so. Thus, Takato’s character arc involves having to actually grow into someone worthy of the position, whereas Haru’s involves coming to terms with the aspects of himself he already has but doesn’t quite understand yet.

One very important thing to reiterate is that “unconventional” does not necessarily mean “better” by default, and, on the flip side, just because Takato isn’t as virtuous of a person at the beginning doesn’t mean he’s a worse character (after all, these kinds of things are what makes one interesting). Rather, it’s more important to consider why these characters are this way based on the context of the narratives they’re in.

In the case of the Adventure/02 kids, getting twelve naturally kind kids wasn’t exactly accident, nor was Haru and the other Appli Drivers also being that way; said kids have a bit of selection bias in that they were deliberately chosen by various entities (”the one who wishes for stability” and the Agents, the Holy Beasts, or Minerva) knowing that a massive world- or humanity-threatening crisis was on the horizon and quite understandably picking kids who had the greatest potential for the kindness that shouldering the world’s burdens would take (in Adventure and 02 this manifested in having the kids resonate with Crests and Digimentals that represented virtues, and in Appmon this involved Minerva actively testing them). After all, it’s only natural that anyone with the chance to recruit people to help with a monumental task would ideally go out of their way to pick people who seem best suited for the job, whether it’s something as grand as fantasy chosen hero picking or something as simple as job recruitment. But at the beginning of Tamers, none of the involved parties were really aware of any kind of grand, looming threats on the horizon, and whatever the DigiGnomes were thinking (or not thinking) when giving Takato his D-Ark is arcane to us all, and so Takato ended up becoming a Tamer by functional accident, resulting him starting off very poorly equipped for the job and having to learn how to do it on the fly.

This also means that the “motives” Takato and Haru have for taking action at the beginning of the series are accordingly different. Because any concept of “stakes” was not immediately apparent at the start of Tamers, Takato’s motivations for being a Tamer are more self-centered and selfish than Haru’s are for being an Appli Driver at the start of their respective series.

Takato’s motives at the beginning of Tamers really just revolve around “I want to be able to play with Guilmon more and not lose him,” and there’s no indication at said beginning that he’s really prepared for or even understands the part about having to protect others from harm. That doesn’t mean that Takato’s a selfish person to the extent of not caring about others at all -- in fact, by the time of Tamers episode 15, he demonstrates an understanding that they’re not playing a “game” anymore when things get difficult (and even puts his foot down in front of the other kids for it, a huge improvement from his rather cowardly outlook at the beginning of the series), so the issue largely had to do with the fact that the early parts of Tamers didn’t immediately make such high stakes clear, and Takato himself was thus in a situation of not worrying about others because that necessity wasn’t there yet. But even in the same episode, Takato still has a clear motive of wanting to show off his cool Digimon partner to the others and bask in his “status” as a Tamer, and it’s still a huge contrast to Haru who was initially too humble to accept his role as part of such a larger narrative until his desire to “protect everyone” won out. It’s a big deal that Haru understood the stakes that would be involved in the fight against Leviathan from day one, and actively chose to opt in because of his selflessness.

Another major reason for this difference is that Haru has a certain character trait explicitly ascribed to him that isn’t with Takato: Haru enjoys reading books and is actually rather book-smart and intellectual. On a certain technicality, Takato being characterized as not particularly skilled in that department actually brings him a little closer to the conventional shounen protagonist archetype than it does a “bookish” character like Haru, because such a character is often considered too nerdy for the protagonist position -- but in Haru’s case, the fact he’s actively thoughtful and ruminates on things means that he spends a lot of time thinking about “what’s the right thing to do” in a given situation.

For all it’s worth, I really hope that the above won’t be taken as an implication that Takato is a fundamentally bad person for having more selfish immediate priorities than Haru or the Adventure/02 kids do; having to carry the weight of such a large thing is a huge thing to ask of someone, especially when we’re talking about someone who kind of got thrown into this whole mess and has been spending the entirety of this series trying to figure it all out without a lot of reliable sources of help. On top of that, it should also be noted that Takato is ten; if there’s anything that can be said to be not entirely true-to-life with the Adventure and 02 cast personalities, it’s that a lot of the emotional awareness and levelheadedness they exhibit usually come from people much older than 8-12 (it’s one of the “acceptable breaks from reality” employed in kids’ shows that kid protagonists are often a tad bit more mature than actual kids would be at that age, otherwise a lot of said kids’ show plots wouldn’t function), and real ten-year-olds in Takato’s situation would often have more difficulty knowing what to do with such great burdens at this age. It’s actually fairly significant that Haru is 13 and from a group composed mainly of middle schoolers, in contrast to the older series having elementary school kids (the youngest Appli Driver, Astra, is actually the same age as a classic Digimon series protagonist), and thus it’s probably not surprising that they’re more willing and able to deal with such huge issues much earlier on.

Thus, although Takato’s character arc does involve him slowly growing into the role of becoming less shallow and selfish, and becoming more truly assertive while he’s at it, this fundamental difference in their natures ends up continuing to have a major influence by the time of the later parts of the series. The difference can be most starkly illustrated in Tamers episode 35 versus Appmon episode 41 -- in which Takato, upon seeing Beelzebumon kill Leomon, is utterly consumed by his emotions and decides that the best course of action to take would be killing Beelzebumon in revenge, even though this won’t bring Leomon back or accomplish anything productive (and, indeed, it does make things worse in the form of driving his own partner over the edge and traumatizing Juri further). (Adventure had already warned that prioritizing “revenge” over “protecting others” is foolhardy and tends to cause a lot of really nasty problems.)

In contrast, one thing you might notice about Haru is that he never “denies anyone’s feelings”, even when confronting someone like Knight. You could argue that Haru wasn’t necessarily dealing with direct trauma in front of him, but recall that Knight had caused tons of grief and misery for many (something Haru takes serious offense at) and had, along with Charismon, gotten very close to permakilling all of the Buddy Appmon at one point back in Appmon episode 37 -- so it’s not like Haru doesn’t have reason to have grudge against Knight, even if the severity isn’t as immediate. Note that Haru doesn’t “both-sides” this issue; he still insists on making his own case, it’s just that he still doesn’t have it in him to not acknowledge that Knight has a good reason for making the case he does given his background, consider his words to an extent, and fight against the idea of having Knight be killed for no good reason. Haru has a very strong belief in “thinking with one’s heart” and “respecting feelings” that he'd exhibited through the entire series (for example, very prominently in Appmon episode 12 with Rei), and because of that he has a ton of emotional control over himself even taking some very harsh things. It’s clear that Haru does have very deep understanding of what he’s dealing with -- and chooses to be idealistic and kind anyway.

(In addition, because Haru is so naturally inclined to be selfless, the one time he really does hit an emotional low in Appmon episode 49, it’s not anger or lashing out at anyone, but rather sadness and despair. Haru just really does not have the fundamental capacity to be aggressive.)

As said before, Takato’s character arc is very much a personal story of how he grew into the role of a Tamer, via learning to fight for what’s important and have a strong heart for it. As a result, his motives for fighting end up still having a much more personal streak to it than anything -- at the time of Tamers episode 49, technically speaking, the Wild Bunch was still being counted on to work on the D-Reaper problem, and his own family was urging him to stay home for now, but what tipped him over the edge was not some desire to protect people as a whole but rather the fact that Juri was calling for him. It’s not to say that such a thing is selfish -- he’s clearly doing it for her sake, not anything to do with his own -- but nevertheless his involvement was directly related to something that hit a little more personally moreso than it was for the sake of the wider picture.

As said before, this is fitting for someone whose story is really more of a personal character arc before anything else; the significance is more in line with the sheer amount of emotional growth Takato had to go through in order to get to this point at all, and how someone normally so divorced from the concept of heroism could come to do something so meaningful, especially thanks to his interactions with Guilmon and growing alongside him. There’s absolutely no doubt that Takato wouldn’t have been able to do this kind of thing at the beginning of the series, so it’s a huge accomplishment that shouldn’t be watered down. It also makes him a very good foil to the D-Reaper, an emotionless program that’s still fixated on rehashing the same destructive purpose it was originally created for years ago and has long lost its purpose, and while Takato isn’t technically the sole factor in putting it to rest (at most, the most valuable asset as part of the Wild Bunch’s plan), the contrast is quite apparent.

On the flip side, Appmon episode 54 not only involves the exact opposite -- in which Haru sacrifices something closely personal to him for the sake of everything else -- but also ties it very closely to its own series themes, which are assertively laid down in all of their glory during this finale. The reason Haru had been “chosen” by Minerva to begin with, and the reason he himself had been given an opt-in “choice” at the beginning of the series and again in Appmon episode 38, and so many other characters had been given “choices”, is that this story is about choices -- because Leviathan (and Knight, and any kind of “AI should manage everything” argument that this series fights hard against) believes that humans shouldn’t be allowed them, and that everything ought to fall in accordance with a “rational” system. Haru, on the other hand, believes in the human heart that can do unexpected things, and his constant choices to do things out of kindness despite understanding what they entail.

Over the course of the series, Haru hadn’t always been putting himself in a spotlight situation -- in fact, many episodes had involved him saying “we’ll support you!” and generally uplifting others before he’d ever tried to take charge. But in the end, the reason he ends up as the “protagonist” who makes the final choice for everyone’s sake is because he’s the one who understands that gravity of “making a choice with one’s feelings” that’s so vital to changing Leviathan’s mind -- plus, the fact he’d been so supportive and kind to everyone means that everyone else shows up for him when he needs it most. Note that when Astra and Eri are upset at Yuujin in Appmon episodes 48 and 51, it’s not so much out of the overall betrayal as much as the fact he specifically betrayed and hurt Haru, because that’s how much they’ve come to care for him in return.

Hence, why Appmon latently ends on a frame of redefining the concept of “protagonist” -- certainly, on a meta level, Haru became the “protagonist” of the narrative that is Appmon, but what it actually means in terms of what Haru became is that everyone, including the members of the audience watching this series, is “the protagonist of their own life”, meaning that being a “protagonist” is defined merely by said act of “making choices” and defining what your own path will be. And especially in a world where singularity is going to become more and more of a real possibility -- as the show indirectly reminds us, AI surpassing human intellect is something that’s been predicted and warned about in this very world we, the viewers, live in -- understanding this is going to become even more important.

Incidentally, in the end, as much as it might be tempting to try and draw parallels with Takato because both of them are in the franchise-mandated position of “protagonist”, removing that requirement actually brings up a character that might make a much closer parallel -- “making choices that are out of kindness” easily directly invokes a certain other character from 02 who had “kindness” as a huge part of his character arc, doesn’t it...?

Really, if you think about it, Haru has a lot in common with Ken, who’s also thoughtful, intellectual, very in touch with his own feelings, assertive, resilient, strong in heart, and kind out of choice even when he doesn’t have to be -- you could basically say Haru is what Ken would be like if he hadn’t gone through such a massive formative event of trauma early in his life, or, alternatively, Ken if he had a bit more of Daisuke’s more outwardly bright, friendly, and supportive traits. It may not be a comparison you’d be easily tempted to make because, as stated above, as much as Ken had a deep connection with 02′s plot, he’s not portrayed as the protagonist of his own narrative...and, hence, Haru is unusual in that the exact archetype that was formerly placed in the role of the series deuteragonist has now been recast in the role of the protagonist itself. But then again, from Haru’s perspective, it’s not like Ken wasn’t technically the driving force of his own story, right?

(I’m not just drawing this comparison because I usually blog for 02. I promise.)

#digimon #digimon tamers #appmon #matsuda takato #shinkai haru #takato matsuda #haru shinkai #shihameta

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 4 years

Text

The Night We Met

Part One - The Night We Met

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Murphy's sister travels to Colombia after realising Steve might not quite be A-Okay and meets the Javier Peña.

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you'd like to see anything in particular. If it's in my wheelhouse, you'll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt in this scene is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin' airline ticket. You had attempted to grab life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentarial bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into a full scale panic attack if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn't have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn't there to kill him.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother's address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands,you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.

“Uh… no hablo... español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi...Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda... does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it's a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man... Good to know.

...

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now... You’ve got a guest.... No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother's partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another's company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving. He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner's sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with false surprise, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it's a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman's tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman's words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son... I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man's elbow and you’re a blushing mess.

Get a grip Y/N.

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia... Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it's probably ‘cause he’s busy... He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention, you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning."

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier. He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier's hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother's partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve...

“... This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love. This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throught your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man's hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own. Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you��d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.

“...Is Steve okay?”

“...No... He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve's voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “...what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it's not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

Part Two

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #pedro pascal x reader #I LOVE THE BLACK FUCKING SHIRT #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #murphy!reader

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aka-indulgence · 4 years

Text

Take Me by the Hand

So I wanted to post this on valentines (it’s not exactly valentine-themed, I just wanted to put something out hjdsk), but decided it was better to post now -w- this is a little fluff fic for @yeosin-n!! She has a really cool au called underwaves, and of course she makes just wonderful wonderful stuff and i love them all- and then its an undertale au!!!! in the ocean!!!!! ahdjkshd I kinda instantly fell in love with it... and UW Sans (Naut) as well, so uh!! Here’s a fluffy self-indulgent fanfic!!

Naut (UW!Sans)/Reader :D!!

"heheh, ya look like a big duck, darlin'."

You try not to make a frustrated noise at him (lord knows he's already having WAY too much fun with you) and choose to simply mumble to yourself quietly as you take step by heavy step towards the innocently splashing waves, as if taunting your predicament.

"I'd appreciate some help right about now, I could do without the remarks." You snap (softly) at him as you waddle your way over the sand, your heavy diving equipment jostling a little with every step.

Naut had been helpful enough to put all the weight on you, and you wanted no more than to strangle the grin off the bastard's face.

He's lucky you're dating him and love him too much to do that.

Naut only chuckles for a bit, in your face, and you're about to throw your flippers at him when his laughs finally die down.

"sorry, sorry," Naut lets a few more chuckles out as he wipes the "tears" away from his top set of eyesockets.

You could swear you saw his lower eyelights turned into hearts for a second…

"couldn't help myself. ya sure are a cutie," he says, and you would've made a sound of indignation if you didn't see the flowers happily popping into existence near the hole in his skull, floating down as if a slow waterfall was carrying it.

You're the one with the happy little flowers, you want to tease, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to hide it. It was cute and pretty, you loved seeing him happy and relaxed.

Without realizing what he's trying to do, Naut's already by your side, going behind your back. Before you could ask him what he's doing, you make a "hup-!?" Noise when he hoists your tank up.

"better?"

He was.. helping you carry your equipment.

"Y-yeah!" You startle (you're not sure why, but the fact that he's actually helping you makes you feel.. sentimental).

"ok then, let's keep going,"

With the help of Naut, the journey to the water’s edge wasn’t as painful as it was when you started trudging down the sand, and you eventually got about chest-deep in the water.

Naut let go of your tank, keeping you steady while you fit your dive boots into the open heel flippers. You fit your mask onto your face, and Naut starts drifting into deeper waters, now bobbing in the waves (how do skeletons float…? Of course he came from the ocean but… it’s like he has invisible floaties on!). He snrks a little. You make a face at him (well, as much of a face you could make with a mask covering half your face).

“What?”

“heheh… nothing. ya just… ya kinda look like a fish? with the goggles…” He makes two C-shapes with his phalanges, bringing them up to his sockets. “oh glowing waves above, i just wanna pinch you.”

“H-hey! Stay focused!” you fluster, holding your hands out to him as if he was going to bite you.

Naut chuckles. “yeah, you’re right… i can always pinch ya later.” he teases, and before you could protest more, he gestures with his hand. “ok, check your second stage first, and let’s swim slowly…”

You give the purge button of your second stage a couple of times, before attaching it to your mouth, floating towards your sea-lover. You release the air from your BCD, and Naut takes you by the hand, gently guiding you into the water.

Everything feels different as soon as you are completely submerged, the sounds around you switching from air to water; your surroundings turning blue in an instant. For a few moments, you can only hear the sound of your breathing, the bubbles burbling around you.

“you doing ok?” Naut’s voice snaps you out of your momentary awe, sounding practically as clear as he does outside the water. “don’t forget to equalize the pressure in your ears.”

The sand slopes down, and you tilt your head this way and that, giving Naut the ok signal when you think you’re good.

He’s dropped his teasing and playing around as he slowly brings you away from the surface; you vaguely feel like someone with a blindfold on while someone else’s pulling you somewhere to show you a surprise. He has to keep looking behind him to make sure he doesn’t run into corals or sharks or whatever.

Your world completely changes around you- not that you’ve never seen ocean scapes before, but actually being in it to see it for yourself sure is a special experience. You see your first fish, catching your eye as it darts away from below you. The sandy bottom keeps going down, and down, and down….

… Until eventually, you reach a spot where it stops, turning into a plain of sand.

Naut sits down- just, sits down on the sand, and it's so weird how he just so casually sits, legs apart below you, underwater. He tugs you a bit, pointing to the sand.

You descend, knees hitting the sand with a soft ‘pwsh’... your hands inadvertently fall onto Naut’s ribcage.

You see all four of his eyelights looking down, then lighting up, and you have no idea if he can see you blushing underwater-

But thankfully, Naut knows to set his priorities straight, and right now it’s making sure your diving goes smoothly and safely.

“good?”

For a second, seeing Naut completely at home in this environment, you nod your head without thinking- shaking your head before giving him the ok sign.

His grin grows and he laughs.

Damn. Even underwater he still sounds smooth as hell…

“heheheh… ok, bubbles. let’s get started then, shall we?”

After about a minute of buoyancy practice, Naut kicked off the sand with his slippers (how did they stay on his feet under- you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t question the physics of underwater monsters so much), letting you follow him in your own pace.

Not too far from the water’s edge, corals started sprouting out from the sand, and no longer than that, more sea life appeared. A rainbow of fish were milling about, shrimp and crabs skitter over the ‘living rocks’, and a sea turtle lazily swims by.

Naut easily backpedals towards it, and it circles around him.

Your eyes are taking in the underwater scene all around you with splendor; if you could smile, you would. It was all just so pretty, and your boyfriend’s over there becoming some sort of disney princess, as a few cleaner fish swim towards his skull. You don’t need to hold in your laughter on account of the regulator in your mouth, but your metaphorical smile gets bigger as you watch the tiny striped fish look around his crack while he’s completely unaware… he looks like he’s about to say something when his eyelights go out, as one of them starts nibbling.

He flaps his hand like he’s swatting a fly away, and maybe you’re being tortured right now because you just want to let out a raucous laugh, purposefully shoving it in his face.

“oh, of course, you’re entertained.” Naut lids his sockets a little, feigning annoyance, though the cute little flowers only continue to flow out of his skull.

You want to gesture a “sorry (not sorry)” at him, but without knowing sign language, the most you could do is open your hands for a hug. He’s been wonderfully non-teasing the whole way down, and you think he deserves some credit, especially showing you… all of this.

You’re thinking about how thankful you are to have him with you when you see his eyelights dart somewhere else with his grin turning mischievous. He points to the turtle still swimming nearby and asks “hey, what kind of turtle do you think that green sea turtle is?”

… What.

You blink at him a couple of times, trying to convey your “what kind of question” emotion you’re feeling right now, knowing he’s smart enough to realize what he just said-

“hahahah, i’m joking i’m joking, i know it’s Chelonia mydas. c’mon, i’m no loggerhead.”

…

Loggerhead. Loggerhead sea turtle.

…

You raise your fist at him, and you hope he could hear your internal screaming at him. Looking at the way his sockets crinkle and his grin practically stretching from non-existent ear to ear, you think he can.

The dive was relaxing and pleasant, with Naut completely in his element, giving you the reassurance that you’ll be alright with him. He brought you to different parts of the reef, highlighting some of the animals similarly as to how he addressed the sea turtle.

He brought you swimming closer to the seafloor, showing you clownfish in their stinging friend-homes, and with a straight face he said, “keep your friends close,” he put a ‘friendly’ arm around the carnivorous invertebrate, “keep your anemones closer.”

You swam away from him then, closer to whee the sand starts sloping again. You met a singular jellyfish there, to which Naut poked away from you- it could just fit in your palms. You watch with mild glee as he gently poked it around… you know it’s a living creature… but wow did you want to bounce it and play around with it like a toy. He moved it away from you and sent it bobbing in the direction of the open ocean, and he turned to you to say “are you jelly you didn’t get to play with it?”

You wanted nothing more than to show him a flat face, if you were brave enough to take the regulator off your mouth. You followed him back towards the reef, swimming through a large school of fish that parted as you did.

“how you feeling seastar? i’m feeling fin-tastic.”

He turned around to gesture at the school. “aren’t they like living artwork? so beautiful. i like to consider myself sofishticated, you know.”

You almost couldn’t focus on the reef around you as you were both delighted and desperately trying to hide it from him, that you’re enjoying a diving buddy/instructor that could talk to you as you dive.

You swam leisurely ahead of him, looking for more “landmarks” (sea… marks…?) to look at before you run out of gas, when you heard a rush of water behind you.

You almost let the regulator out of your mouth when you see a huge eel flapping about near you, with Naut holding its tail end and keeping it from coming at you. He reeled it in towards him, holding its head.

“don’t know what got into this guy. maybe your fins surprised him.”

He goes silent for a while.

“but i guess thaaat’s a moray for you.”

Old jokes!!! He’s too much!!!

You wished you could’ve said something to him so you weren’t simply being subjected to his continuous puns, but at that point it looked like you might just get that; when you saw that your pressure gauge showed less than 100.

Naut quickly looked to you when you made a wave at him, giving him a 9-0 signal, trying to convey an “up?” as best you can.

“oh. oh yeah let’s get you up, bubbles.” He said as he swam towards you.

It was like- he had a switch for professional diving instructor and ‘regular Naut’. He quietly guided your ascent, slowly and steadily, making a stop below the surface to decompress, before finally swimming all the way to the surface and inflating your BCD.

“Blah!” you ungracefully spit the regulator out, letting it sink into the water and take the mask off your face. “My teeth always feel weird afterwards…”

“cus’ you’re clenching it all the time.” he floats towards you, putting an arm around you. “how you feeling, gull friend?”

You open your mouth, only to stop when you realized what he said- as if on time, a seagull keows above you.

You give him your best attempt at a seething glare, but you take a breath and smile, putting an arm around him as well. “You know what? That was really nice. I haven’t had this much fun in a while. … or really, I didn’t do that much before I met you. I liked this, Naut. Thanks for taking me out here with you.”

You watch with satisfaction as Naut’s lazy expression and smug-ass grin fade away, his main sockets becoming wide and a light blush colors his cheekbones.

Ha, gottem.

“o-oh. you- yeah. i… you're welcome. anything for you, seastar. i’m glad you liked it.” his eyelights shift away from you.

“Yeah… though not gonna lie, you really were a sun of a beach down there. Punning when you know I can’t say anything to you- it was like, water you doing!”

“ha, yeah i know, it was-” Naut paused. And then he turned to you, seeing how smug and proud you looked of yourself.

You watched how his eyelights dilated in his sockets, sparkling like sun rays dancing in the water.

“heh… heheheh….” he chortled, “oh… don’t be mad now… it’s not a good idea to get too tide down to your emotions.”

“Well- high tide or low tide, I’ll be by your side.”

“better make sure you weren’t pier-pressured into that.”

“Nah. I’m a girl who just wants some sun with my bonefriend!”

He was smiling like a downright lovable idiot right now, eyelights shining like the sun.

“hhhhoooh my god, i want to kiss you.”

You give him a smirk.

“Oh! So you’re feeling… naut-y?”

Your grin weakens a little when Naut stops grinning, and his eyelights shrinking back to their regular sizes, shimmering. For a moment you worry if you said something wrong somehow, but your worry was unfounded- just moments later you watch as cute little hearts start coming out of his skull, with four of his eyelights turning into the same shape.

“i don’t know why kissing’s naut-y, but it’s in my name-ture to be.”

You’re smiling just as wide as him, ignoring how far he had to reach to make that pun. He closes his eyes and you let him lean in towards you, meeting him in the middle. He wraps his arms around you and kisses you while you reciprocate happily; bobbing in the waves under the sun.

#uw #underwaves #uw sans #sansxreader #naut!!!#i love naut!!!#and i love U yeo!!!!!!! ^3^#hope you like this and i wrote your man right heheu

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balioc · 4 years

Text

A Taxonomy of Magic

This is a purely and relentlessly thematic/Doylist set of categories.

The question is: What is the magic for, in this universe that was created to have magic?

Or, even better: What is nature of the fantasy that’s on display here?

Because it is, literally, fantasy. It’s pretty much always someone’s secret desire.

(NOTE: “Magic” here is being used to mean “usually actual magic that is coded as such, but also, like, psionics and superhero powers and other kinds of Weird Unnatural Stuff that has been embedded in a fictional world.”)

(NOTE: These categories often commingle and intersect. I am definitely not claiming that the boundaries between them are rigid.)

I. Magic as The Gun That Can Be Wielded Only By Nerds

Notable example: Dungeons & Dragons

Of all the magic-fantasies on offer, I think of this one as being the clearest and most distinctive. It’s a power fantasy, in a very direct sense. Specifically, it’s the fantasy that certain mental abilities or personality traits -- especially “raw intelligence” -- can translate directly into concrete power. Being magical gives you the wherewithal to hold your own in base-level interpersonal dominance struggles.

(D&D wizardry is “as a science nerd, I can use my brainpower to blast you in the face with lightning.” Similarly, sorcery is “as a colorful weirdo, I can use my force of personality to blast you in the face with lightning,” and warlockry is “as a goth/emo kid, I can use my raw power of alienation to blast you in the face with lightning.”)

You see this a lot in media centered on fighting, unsurprisingly, and it tends to focus on the combative applications and the pure destructive/coercive force of magic (even if magic is notionally capable of doing lots of different things). It often presents magic specifically as a parallel alternative to brawn-based fighting power. There’s often an unconscious/reflexive trope that the heights of magic look like “blowing things up real good” / “wizarding war.”

II. Magic as The Numinous Hidden Glory of the World

Notable examples: Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, H.P. Lovecraft’s Dream Cycle

The point of magic, in this formulation, is that it is special. It is intrinsically wondrous and marvelous. Interacting with it puts you in a heightened-state-of-existence. It is -- ultimately -- a metaphor for The Secret Unnameable Yearnings of Your Soul, the glorious jouissance that always seems just out of reach.

It doesn’t so much matter how the magic actually functions, or even what outcomes it produces. The important thing is what magic is, which is...magical.

This is how you get works that are all about magic but seem entirely disinterested in questions like “what can you achieve with magic?,” “how does the presence of magic change the world?,” etc. One of the major ways, anyway.

The Numinous Hidden Glory fantasy often revolves around an idea of the magic world, the other-place where everything is drenched in jouissance. [Sometimes the magic world is another plane of existence, sometimes it’s a hidden society within the “real world,” doesn’t matter.] The real point of magic, as it’s often presented, is being in that magic world; once you’re there, everything is awesome, even if the actual things you’re seeing and doing are ordinary-seeming or silly. A magic school is worlds better than a regular school, because it’s magic, even if it’s got exactly the same tedium of classes and social drama that you know from the real world.

Fantasies of this kind often feature a lot of lush memorable detail that doesn’t particularly cohere in any way. It all just adds to the magic-ness.

III. Magic as the Atavistic Anti-Civilizational Power

Notable examples: A Song of Ice and Fire, Godzilla

According to the terms of this fantasy, the point of magic is that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense within the logic of civilized human thought, anyway. It is nature and chaos given concrete form; it is the thing that tears away at the systems that we, in our [Promethean nobility / overweening hubris], try to build.

There’s not a baked-in value judgment here. This kind of magic can be presented as good, bad, or some of both. Same with civilization, for that matter.

It’s often presented as Old Myths and Folkways that have More Truth and Power Than Seems Reasonable. Narratively, it often serves as a dramatized version of the failure of episteme, and of the kind of entropic decay that in real life can take centuries to devour empires and ideologies.

This kind of magic is almost always the province of savages, actual inhuman monsters, or (occasionally) the very downtrodden.

(I think it is enormously telling that in A Song of Ice and Fire -- a series that is jammed full of exotic cults and ancient half-forgotten peoples, all of whom have magic that seems to work and beliefs that at least touch on mysterious truths -- only the Westerosi version of High Medieval Catholicism, the religion to which most of the people we see notionally adhere, is actually just a pack of empty lies.)

IV. Magic as an Overstuffed Toybox

Notable examples: Naruto, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Or, sometimes, we care about what magic actually does. More than that -- sometimes we want to see magic doing really interesting things, and then other magic intersecting with it in ways that are even more interesting.

The fantasy here, in simplest terms, is “magic can achieve any arbitrary cool effect.” There doesn’t tend to be an overarching system that explains how it’s all supposed to come together, or if there is, it tends to be kind of lame and hand-wavey -- a rigorous system of Magic Physics, delineating the limits of the possible, would get in the way of all the cool effects we want to show!

Once again, this shows up a lot in combat-heavy narratives. Less with the genericized D&D-style “magic is a fist that can punch harder than your regular meat fist,” and more with people throwing weird and wacky powers at each other in order to show how those powers can be used creatively to overcome opposition. Sometimes, instead of combat, you get magicians using their cool-effects magic to MacGuyver their way out of problems or even trying to resolve large-scale social problems. Issues of magic usage within the narrative being “fair” or “unfair” or “cheesy” are important here in ways that they generally aren’t elsewhere, since the fantasy on offer comes close to being a game.

(Ratfic often falls into this category.)

V. Magic as Alternate-Universe Science

Notable examples: the Cosmere books

This covers most of what gets called “hard fantasy.” The fantasy on offer is a pretty straightforward one -- “magic has actual rules, you can learn them, and once you’ve learned them you can make predictions and achieve outcomes.” It’s puzzle-y in the way that the previous fantasy was game-y. It’s often a superstimulus for the feeling of learning a system in the way that video game grinding is a superstimulus for the feeling of rewarding labor.

The magic effects on offer tend to be less ridiculous and “broken” than toybox magic, because any logic you can use to achieve a ridiculous effect is going to influence the rest of the magic system, and special cases that aren’t grounded in sufficiently-compelling logic will ruin the fantasy.

Not super common.

VI. Magic as Psychology-Made-Real

Notable examples: Revolutionary Girl Utena, Persona

This kind of magic makes explicit, and diagetic, what is implicit and metatextual in most fantasy settings. The magic is an outgrowth of thought, emotion, and belief. Things have power in the world because they have power in your head. The things that seem real in the deepest darkest parts of your mind are actually real.

This is where you get inner demons manifested as actual demons (servile or hostile or anything in between), swords forged from literal hope, dungeons and labyrinths custom-tailored to reflect someone’s trauma, etc.

The fantasy, of course, is that your inner drama matters.

My personal favorite.

VII. Magic as Pure Window Dressing

Notable examples: later Final Fantasy games, Warhammer 40K

This one is weird; it doesn’t really make sense on its own, only metatextually. I think of its prevalence as an indicator of the extent to which fantasy has become a cultural staple.

The fantasy on offer in these works is that you are in a fantasy world that is filled with fantasy tropes. And that’s it.

Because the important thing here is that the magic doesn’t really do anything at all, or at least, it doesn’t do anything that non-magic can’t do equally well. It doesn’t even serve as an indication that Things are Special, because as presented in-setting, magic isn’t Special. Being a wizard is just a job, like being a baker or a tailor or something -- or, usually, like being a soldier, because the magic on offer is usually a very-simple kind of combat magic. And unlike in D&D, it’s not like magic is used only or chiefly by a particularly noteworthy kind of person. It’s just...there.

The great stories of the world, in these works, don’t tend to feature magic as anything more than a minor element. The point is to reassure the audience that this is the kind of world, the kind of story, that has magic.

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Thoughts? Critiques? Other categories to suggest?

#media analysis

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herinsectreflection · 3 years

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I Don't Sleep on Bed of Bones: The Slayer as a Killer Across the Seasons

A pretty constant question throughout Buffy's arc - arguably the central question of the entire show, that Buffy must answer, is "what is a slayer? What does being The Vampire Slayer mean?". And a major part of that is the question of whether a slayer is just a killer. It's a question central to S5, but ripples throughout the rest of the show too, with some of the most iconic scenes in the show in converstion with each other around it. Inspired by an ask I received about this from @potterkid, I took a look at how this idea develops and resolves itself over the course of the show.

In S1, being the Slayer means accepting responsibility. It's metaphor for growing up - a metaphor that recurs throughout the show along with other ideas, but is strongest in S1. Buffy is torn between her teenage/human wants and her adult/supernatural responsibilities. She accepts her mortality and her duty (fighting the Master), and wins when she manages to integrate that with her personal desires (fighting the Master in a kickass prom dress with her friends and boyfriend). There's some stuff around the classic superhero idea that being around the hero is dangerous -e.g. in Never Kill a Boy on the First Date, but not much on the idea of a Slayer being a killer exactly.

In S2, being the Slayer means making hard choices. It means accepting that sometimes all your options are bad ones, but choosing one anyway, even at personal cost. This is introduced through Ford's story in Lie to Me, with Buffy's words to him forming one of the core thesis statements of the show ("You have a choice. You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice."), and it's climaxed beautifully in the tragic ending of Becoming. There's not much direct allusion to the idea of Buffy being a killer here, but this is a vital moment in that discussion. Ultimately, Buffy does make the decision here to kill Angel - not to slay Angelus, but to kill him. To take the life of her ensouled lover in order to save others. It's kind of the opposite of the decision that Ford makes - the best of two bad choices. It's the classic trolley problem, and Buffy's hand is on the lever by design - she has to make that choice because she's the Slayer. We will see this moment returned to again and again as this Slayer-vs-Killer theme develops.

Also, Ted is a very important episode for later. Buffy herself feels guilty specifically because she used her slayer powers on what she thinks is a regular human, and therefore killed him. Specifically, being the Slayer made her a Killer. It's also notable that this is where the idea of Buffy having a free reign to kill is first introduced - by Buffy's original shadow self in Cordelia no less.

Cordelia: I don't get it. Buffy's the Slayer. Shouldn't she have... Xander: What, a license to kill? Cordelia: Well, not for fun. But she's like this superman. Shouldn't there be different rules for her? - 2x12 Ted This isn't explored massively here but will be revisited again and again going forward.

S3 is where this theme really comes into focus. Faith enters as Buffy's shadow self and a representation of hedonism. How that manifests is as a Slayer who gives herself a license to Kill. She posits the idea that as slayers, they can and should decide who lives and dies.

Faith: Something made us different. We're warriors. We're built to kill. Buffy: To kill demons! But it does not mean that we get to pass judgment on people like we're better than everybody else! Faith: We are better! - 3x15 Consequences

Obviously, this is something that Buffy has to reckon with and fight against. But there is a glimmer of truth here, because at the end of S2, she does take the power of life and death into her own hands. She is faced with the choice between Angel and the world and decides that Angel should die. She had to, that's the position she has to be in because she is the Slayer. She has to be a Killer because she is a Slayer. So the two are intertwined.

More than this, Faith is someone who at least appears to revel in the kill. Up until now, we hadn't really seen Buffy enjoy being a slayer, but Faith does. Buffy is genuinely drawn to that, to slaying for pleasure. The equation of slaying/killing and sex for Buffy is first explicitly drawn by Faith in this season. ("Isn't it crazy how slaying always makes you hungry and horny?"). Slayers are very much like vampires in that respect, blurring the line between sex and death. In general, Faith introduces the idea that Buffy is drawn to killing - not just to protect people (the ideal of a Slayer), but for its own benefit. That's something that Buffy continues to struggle with going forward.

I have said before that Faith in S3 is an echo of Angel in S2, both in Buffy's relationship to them both and how that shifts mid-season, and in how it ends. In Graduation Day, Buffy again is given the power of life and death. This time, it's more personal - she can stop Angel dying by killing Faith. It's not such a straightforward (for want of a better word) decision as Angel .vs. the literal entire world, it's just the value of one life against the other. Another trolley problem, and it's not an easy choice, but it's still a choice. Just as she chose the lesser evil in killing Angel in S2, she kills the person filling the Angel role in S3. And this time, the choice is explicitly tied to the idea of being a Killer. Faith is set up as the person that Buffy could be in a slightly different world, and that person is a Killer, as Faith herself claims.

"What are you gonna do, B? Kill me? You become me. You're not ready for that, yet." - Faith Lehane, 3x17 Enemies

"You did it, B. You killed me." - Faith Lehane, 3x22 Graduation Day

In the act of choosing to pull the lever, Buffy has to kill. In the act of killing, she has become her dark mirror. In the act of defeating/becoming Faith, she becomes again the sole Slayer. Being a killer and a Slayer again intertwined. It's interesting here that she then makes the decision to feed herself to Angel. She unravels the trolley problem by throwing herself on the tracks. It's fascinating that between the dual trolley-problem finales of Becoming and The Gift, where in the first Buffy chooses to pull the lever, and in the latter she refuses and chooses a third option, Graduation Day exists in the middle as a stepping stone where she kind of does both.

The bulk of S4 is a little lighter on this theme, instead examining The Slayer as a role that must be juggled amongst a series of competing roles as Buffy's life as an adult becomes more fractured. There are flavours of it in Fear Itself, where Buffy fears that her friends will leave and her destiny lies with death and the dead, but otherwise not too much jumps out at me. Except, of course, for Restless, which is so heavy with this theme. It's one of the many reasons why I kind of consider Restless an honourary part of S5, as it's setting up the themes and arcs of S5 as much as it's wrapping up the like from S4.

RILEY: Hey there, killer.

BUFFY: We're not demons. ADAM: Is that a fact?

RILEY: Thought you were looking for your friends. Okay, killer...

TARA: I live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. I am destruction. Absolute ... alone. BUFFY: The Slayer. FIRST SLAYER: No friends! Just the kill.

OK, so SO much to unpack here. This is all within the under-10-minute sequence of Buffy's dream, and in that sequence she constantly shows a fear that she is in fact a "killer". It's clearly strong in her mind. Riley calls her "killer" multiple times, and Adam equates her with him, and with demonhood. I also find it very interesting how she responds to Tara's words, which are very literally describing the act of kiling ("the action of death...the blood cry...the penetrating wound"). She hears that and immediately identifies her as the Slayer, so slayerhood and killing are clearly bound up together in her mind.

Central to her concerns is the dichotomy between friendship and death. This was built up in Fear Itself, and it's central here. Riley and Sineya both frame it as a choice, between friendship and "the kill". This is a fear that Buffy has already, since S1, that her Slayer life will stop her ability to have a "normal" life of friends and family, but it also sets up her arc in S5 nicely. She chooses her friends over becoming a pure instrument of death in Restless, but that does not resolve her ongoing fears. They existed before and continue to dwell even more strongly in her mind, with words that both Sineya and Dracula repeat.

"You think you know ... what's to come ... what you are. You haven't even begun."

This sets the stage for S5, and her arc of choosing between family and being the Slayer. Friendship and family are presented as more of less one and the same a few episodes later in Family, and the choice Buffy is faced with in S5 is another trolley problem - the life of Dawn against the world. This time, it's more specifically tied to the Slayer/Killer dichotomy through the prophecy that Buffy is faced with ("Death is your gift"). This frames the similar choices she faced in Becoming and Graduation Day in the same light, with Buffy even specifically comparing this to the former.

BUFFY: I sacrificed Angel to save the world. I loved him so much. But I knew ... what was right. I don't have that any more. I don't understand. I don't know how to live in this world if these are the choices. If everything just gets stripped away. I don't see the point. I just wish that... I just wish my mom was here. The spirit guide told me that death is my gift. Guess that means a Slayer really is just a killer after all. - 5x22 The Gift

S5 is soaked in this Killer-vs-Slayer idea, and that's part of why I love it so much. It opens with Buffy having gained an appreciation of killing. She goes out not to patrol, but to hunt. To revel in the enjoyment of the kill, just as Faith did. There's also a constant theme of people identifying Buffy as a Killer. Importantly, it's a theme of her believing them. She knows that there is a kernel of truth there, and it develops from a subconcious worry in Restless to a more concrete fear in Intervention, where Buffy explicitly says that she is afraid that being the Slayer means losing her humanity and ability to love, and become nothing more than a "killer". Eventually, Buffy is so ground down by it that when The Gift rolls around, she simply accepts that the Slayer is "just a killer" as an inevitability.

BUFFY: Yeah, I prefer the term slayer. You know, killer just sounds so... DRACULA: Naked? - 5x01 Buffy vs Dracula

SPIKE: Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. - 5x07 Fool for Love

FIRST SLAYER: Death is your gift. - 5x18 Intervention

I also like the way that Joyce is repeatedly linked to this idea. Buffy's response to Sineya points to Joyce's death as a rebuttal to the idea of death being a gift ("Death is not a gift. My mother just died. I know this."). Buffy talks about Joyce just before accepting that "a slayer is a killer" in The Gift. Spike's speech about Slayer's having a death wish comes immediately before Buffy finds out that Joyce is going into hospital. The idea of the Slayer as an instrument of death, killing every day, is juxtaposed against the mundane horror of what death is really like, as demonstrated in The Body. As the Slayer, Buffy must cause death, but this is what death looks like. It's hard and painful and mortal and stupid. Eventually Buffy reaches a point where she just can't do this anymore. She can't live in a world where she must choose to be a killer, because she understands death more now than ever.

It's here that the show explicitly connects the ideas of utilitarianism and being a killer. Buffy says that killing Dawn to save the world (and by association killing Angel to save the world, or killing Faith to save Angel), would make the Slayer "just a killer". This goes back to S3, and Faith arguing that the death of one innocent was washed out by the many people that they save, and that being Slayers gives them the right to make that calculation. Tara points to Giles in this episode, the voice of utilitarianism, and identifies him as a killer. Giles himself identifies himself as one when he kills Ben, and here draws a line between being a utilitarian/killer, and being a hero.

BEN: Need a ... a minute. She could've killed me. GILES: No she couldn't. Never. ... She's a hero, you see. She's not like us.

Some people criticise the moral absolutism of this, and could very justifiably argue that killing Ben, or even killing Dawn, would be the most moral thing in this situation. Who are we to say that Dawn's life is more valuable than the lives of a thousand other 14 year old girls, with families of their own that love them just as much as Buffy loves Dawn? But within the context of the show, I think it makes sense for them to reject utilitarianism. Buffy is a Sisyphean story. There will always be another apocalypse after this one is stopped. There will always be another impossible choice with innocent lives in the balance. Through that lens, the idea of "killing one to save a thousand" becomes meaningless, because there's a thousand apocalypses, and if you kill one to stop them all, then you've killed a thousand. That's how Buffy feels - she killed Angel, she killed Faith, now she has to kill Dawn? Where does it end? Eventually it all just gets stripped away, so what's the point? There's no winning move here. The only way to break the cycle is to change the game.

We should also keep in mind Buffy's words at the start of the episode. She fears that the Slayer is "just a killer", but she is also identified by the guy she saves in the alley in the opening scene as "just a girl". And Buffy agrees ("That's what I keep saying."). Buffy is The Vampire Slayer, which dictates that she must make these impossible choices, but she's also Buffy, which means she is a human being with the power of free will. She gets a choice - not a good choice, but a choice. As a human being, she can reject the options in front of her and find a third way. She can transform the whole game, and turn "Death is your gift" into an empowering statement. This was heavily foreshadowed of course - the Guide in Intervention outright stated that Buffy was full of love, and that "love will bring [her] to [her] gift". But it takes Buffy working through these fears and emotions and realising that she simply can't take Dawn's life. She chooses a new way. She avoids being a killer by rejecting utilitarian ethics. To paraphrase The Last Jedi, she wins by saving what she loves. Ultimately, she's not a killer, but a girl, a friend, a sister, a Slayer - a hero.

So season five is very much the climax and resolution of this theme. Very few themes ever disappear entirely from this show though, and this one continues to echo throughout the show. In S6, Buffy again fears she is slipping into darkness. That there is some kind of darkness that is innate within her. But where in S5 this was a fear that she recoiled from but at times seemed inevitable, in S6 it is something that she is drawn towards, that disgusts her but that she takes a kind of comfort in, because it's easier than facing the mundane reality of her depression.

This yearning for her own darkness takes the physical form of Spike, who she uses for what is basically sexual self-harm. Spike steps into Faith's role as Buffy's shadow self for much of the later seasons, and , and like Faith he represents killing as hedonism, and as sex. There's no vampire who so aggressively blurs the lines of sex and death/violence as Spike. Her fear that killing is part of her nature, and her fear of her own sexual desire, are very much one and the same. When she breaks down in Dead Things, she talks about the darkness within her, and of her shame over her own sexuality.

Spike also repeats Faith's utilitarian justifications from Consequences in the episode which forms the climax of Buffy's self-destruction, Dead Things. When Buffy attempts to metaphorically commit suicide by turning herself into the police, she does it while constantly identifying herself as a killed. She repeats some variation on "I killed her" four times in just two scenes. She wants to be punished for being a killer, and not protected for being the slayer. She has grappled with this several times, and is still resolute that being the slayer does not give her a license to kill, but this time she is desperate to be seen as a killer, to give justification for her own self-hatred.

The final way S6 explores this idea is with Willow. When she is after Warren, Buffy tries to stop her, not for Warren's sake but for Willow's. She knows that taking a life changes a person, and implicitly draws on the first time she chose to take a human's life, the moment she "became a killer" on that rooftop with Faith.

Buffy (re: going to kill Faith): I can't play kid games anymore. This is how she wants it. Xander: I just don't want to lose you. Buffy: I won't get hurt. Xander: That's not what I mean. - 3x21 Graduation Day

XANDER: She should be coming down at some point, shouldn't she? I mean, back there she was out of her head ... running on grief and magicks. BUFFY: Doesn't matter . Willow just killed someone. Killing people changes you. Believe me, I know. - 6x21 Two to Go Killing Warren might have been justified given what a complete piece of shit he was - just as killing Angel was justified, just as killing Faith was, just as killing Ben was. That doesn't matter, because Buffy still recognises that the act of killing leaves permanent psychological scars, which she is still bearing.

In S7, we get the final major exploration of the "does the Slayer have a right to kill" idea in Selfless. Here, Buffy seems to have reached the conclusion that Cordelia, Faith and Spike (all her shadow selves) were right, and she does, in fact, have the right to pass judgment because she's the Slayer, when she decides she has to kill Anya.

"It is always different! It's always complicated. And at some point, someone has to draw the line, and that is always going to be me. You get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end the slayer is always cut off. There's no mystical guidebook. No all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply. There's only me. I am the law." - 7x05 Selfless

However, I don't think the show wants us to take this as gospel. Buffy is conclusively proved wrong in this episode, since killing Anya doesn't work, and it's Willow who finds a third option that saves the day. In S7, the idea of the Slayer-as-Killer is more an incidental theme, while the central exploration is the idea of "one girl in all the world". It explores the nature of that tragedy, that Buffy is by definition alone. Because of this, she necessarily must be a killer. She does have to pass judgement, because there is nobody else capable of it. She has to be the one to hunt and kill vampires. She has to face the choice to kill Angel, to kill Faith, to kill Dawn, to kill Anya.

This is where the theme ends up - as a tragic inevitability. Buffy must always make that choice. Making the selfless choice to kill her boyfriend doesn't stop it. Avoiding the choice and dying herself doesn't even stop it. That boulder just rolls down the hill again and again, and Buffy is the only one who can push it back up. The Slayer is a killer because the Slayer is alone. So the only way to break that cycle is for the Slayer to no longer be alone. There are still elements of The Slayer, and of Buffy as a person, that are linked to death and killing, but she has mostly made peace with those parts, and now can be free of having to be "the law" too.

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your-brilliant-lady-m · 3 years

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Part 1 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Miraculous Jewels

Alright! I promised you meta and now I deliver!

I feel like people mostly watch Miraculous for the romance these days. Shipping is all everyone cares about. I wonder why? Probably because writers themselves don't take their worldbuilding very seriously and because they don't put much effort into making the audience care about something other than Love Square, like the mythology behind the Miraculous, or motivations of the main villain, or some pretty heavy topics for a kid's show that they bring up and then refuse to touch again. You know, all the good things. And this is coming from someone who is a passionate multishipper. I have lived through several shipping wars in different fandoms and came out victorious after all.

I am probably the only person out there who cares about the big picture, the overall storyline and the worldbuilding of Miraculous in addition to all details and implications that could develop into fascinating plotlines relevant to the main story. It is a rather lonely fandom experience, I must confess. But, hey? Who cares? I am here to have fun and bring to the table discussions no one wants to have.

So, let's talk about the basics.

If you, as the writing team, are capable of keeping only 1 thing consistent, then please, I beg you, let it be the basic concepts of your universe. Because in this case, one has to actively put effort into writing characters and conflict resolutions badly. And also because nothing can save bad worldbuilding.

I don't have high worldbuilding standards for Miraculous. They certainly aren't as high as the ones I had for Legend of Korra (which was a badly written trainwreck, that ATLA doesn't deserve as a sequel) or the ones I currently have for Dragon Prince. Therefore I won't be too harsh in my criticisms. Granted, I think that Miraculous has better worldbuilding and lore consistency than Winx Club for example (I haven't seen the reboot yet, so writers might have fixed their worldbuilding at least a little bit). Even though I enjoyed Winx when I was younger and some elements of this story still attract me.

Both serialised and episodic shows as well as movies to the lesser extent must have some flexibility in worldbuilding and plot because you can never be 100% sure where your story is going. Maybe, you'll get money for more seasons, maybe not. However, you must never lose sight of your basic concepts. They have to stay the same no matter what, because rewriting lore and retconning major developments every new season is not and never will be called good writing.

Forgive me for using architectural metaphors, but you need a solid foundation to build any kind of structure. Otherwise, everything falls apart.

I like to apply this logic to writing as well. When designing a world where your story takes place, you must lay a few ground rules. It's especially important if you have a magic system. What kind of ideas absolutely must exist? What kind of conclusion do you want your story to have? Does your magic system has limitations? Where is the grey area? Could you introduce new elements later on?

And I feel like the writing team of Miraculous Ladybug did not ask these questions. This may feel like I am nit-picking canon material and looking for problems that simply aren't there, but I promise that I am not. You see, things that I am about to point out only seem small at first glance. But these details are actually the source of the largest plotholes in the series. And their presence negatively affects character development, conflicts and resolutions of said conflicts.

That doesn't mean that I have nothing good to say about the magic system of the show and its elements. There are a lot of great ideas and concepts. And some of them have the potential to contribute to the delightful story.

Let's dive right into it, shall we?

Camouflage

I have to give credit where it's due because the idea of camouflage and shapeshifting for Miraculouses is brilliant. It seems like Miraculous can't fundamentally change its type of jewellery or accessory. The ring will always be the ring but with a different ornament, colour or shape. This is true most of the time (Monkey Miraculous is an exception since it transformed into earplugs/headphones/headband/circlet) It makes sense and avoids plotholes. Grimoire doesn't have the pictures of each Miraculous in disguise for identity protection. That was very neat too. I have no comments. This concept was very good.

Also, since Marinette wore a nose ring of the Ox in "Kwamibuster" without any problem and Adrien wore Ladybug's earrings in "Reflekdoll", we can assume that you don't need to have piercings to wear a Miraculous. Miraculous just magically passes through your skin.

I'm interested to know the following. Can Kwamis recognise a camouflaged Miraculous on a person? Can the holder order them to confess the identity of this person? This shouldn't be possible for identity protection just like with Kwamis sensing each other. But more on that in later posts.

Power Levels

For a long time, we assume that there are only 7 Miraculouses. Turtle belongs to Master Fu, Gabriel has Butterfly and Peacock, Marinette and Adrien have Ladybug and Black Cat. Everything is pretty straightforward. Then it's revealed that there are more jewels and more boxes. It makes the worldbuilding interesting, but it also majorly complicates things, making them inconsistent.

Their position in the Miracle Box implies their power levels. Creation and destruction are the most powerful forces in existence, therefore they are at the top. Moreover, it makes this Box the most important, the most powerful out of all others. Su Han in "Furious Fu" calls it "Mother Miracle Box". Fox, Turtle, Bee, Butterfly and Peacock have less power than the main pair, but more than the Miraculous of the lower Zodiac tier (since they correspond with animals of the Chinese Zodiac).

1. Ladybug can create anything out of nothing (Lucky Charm, which gives what you need the most at the moment). This Miraculous can resurrect the dead, reverse the effects of the Cataclysm. The power of Miraculous Cure or Miraculous Ladybug can work in several ways:

it simply repairs the damage (puts stuff back together, heals injuries and so on)

it reverses time for the matter, restoring things back to the state they were before the destruction occurred (however, the Cure doesn't erase people's memories of everything that happened unless they were mind-controlled, frozen in place or transformed by Akuma into something else - this is an important point that I'll discuss some other time)

How does Miraculous Cure work when there are no supervillians? In NY Special Marinette just says this.

Excuse me, what? What was that? You can't do anything when the villain is gone? What the hell?

*insert here every scene where Ladybug fixed Paris after destroying akumatized/amokized object (this action causes the Akuma victim to detransform/sentimonster to disappear - villain is gone) and purifying butterfly and feather*

It was such cheap angst. I couldn't even be upset when Adrien gave up his Miraculous, because that whole situation is just stupid. But, never mind. We aren't talking about that today.

Apparently, Lucky Charm and Miraculous Cure only work when summoned to battle a specific villain. What is the point then? Huh? You can't tell me that Ladybug has the power of unlimited creation and then say that she can't repair the damage without a special Lucky Charm that was magically synchronised with specific big bad of the week.

Ladybug also can purify Akumas. It makes sense for Ladybug to have the ability to reverse the magic of less powerful Miraculous. But this power can't be applied universally. How does this power of reversal apply to different situations where there is no evil Butterfly holder? Can Ladybug reverse the magic of any Miraculous?

The unlimited power of creation introduced in season 4 ("Mr. Pidgeon 72") is another fascinating thing. On one hand, it's logical and proves the status of this Miraculous as the most powerful. On the other hand, by introducing this power, you have created a plothole. Look, Marinette can create the charm which repels Akumas. If Ladybug can create anything then what stops her from creating a tool for finding Hawkmoth (like special glasses for discovering identities or a compass)? I mean, the show says that the power of creation is unlimited, it means that the creation of such tool is possible.

2. Black Cat can destroy anything with Cataclysm, even other Miraculous. He can kill living things and turn them into ash, but not himself. This Miraculous is supposed to have other special abilities that we don't see. And they should be equal to powers of Ladybug, both in number and in potency. Unfortunately, after 3 seasons writers didn't give us anything. It makes laughable the idea of balance between Ladybug and Black Cat.

Now, to the second tier. These Miraculouses have a singular ability, but they need a second one to keep the power balanced between Zodiac and the main pair.

3. Butterfly creates champions with different superpowers. But how does the time limit of children work for Butterfly? In theory, the countdown should start right after the creation of the Akuma since for Ladybug and Chat Noir countdown starts after activation of their powers even if they don't use them. However, if the countdown of the Butterfly begins after Akuma creation then there's no point because the holder has to stay transformed to guide their champion. The charged butterfly won't have time to even grant powers before the transformation of the child-holder drops. This issue is never explored because Gabriel doesn't have a time limit. However, I feel like it should be addressed in flashbacks of past Butterfly holders for example.

This Miraculous should be less powerful than Ladybug and Black Cat. It's often not. Some Akumas are too overpowered. Stormy Weather can move the Earth away from the Sun, Timetagger can send people through time and jump through time as well, Chat Blanc destroyed the world with a single energy blast, Miraculer could steal powers of those more powerful than her by default. These are the most notable examples. One could argue that Chat Blanc was a different case. Hawkmoth simply gave the most powerful Miraculous a boost. However, we know that even without a holder (the wildest and the most powerful form of uncontrolled Miraculous magic) Plagg's Cataclysm can't destroy the universe just like that (he presumably wiped out dinosaurs and sunk Atlantis on his own without a holder). I think that the less powerful Miraculous (Butterfly) shouldn't be able to increase the power of destruction to such a degree and give Black Cat the power to destroy celestial bodies and galaxies.

Writers want us to see Hawkmoth as the formidable villain. But it's not easy because he is less powerful than your main heroes by default of your worldbuilding. Sometimes writers make the Butterfly more powerful than creation and destruction to raise the stakes, breaking the laws of their magic system. So, how do you solve this? Let Ladybug and Black Cat keep their status as the most powerful and instead of giving Hawkmoth more magical power, make him smarter, more cunning, inventive. Gabriel is a fashion designer, whose creativity makes him a very good Butterfly holder. He has a life full of experience, he knows much more about things than the main teenage characters. Catalyst was very interesting for this very reason. Gabriel sort of discovered a cheat code to boost his powers. Show us how he experiments with his powers, how he analyses his past Akumas and tries to find the most effective ones. Maybe Gabriel tries to design Akumas that can specifically neutralise Ladybug and Chat Noir. This exploration could also give writers an opportunity to explain how the powers of Butterfly work. Can he control the type of powers he grants? Can he control the appearance of Akumas? There are many things to be explored.

4. Peacock creates sentimonsters. I remember that fans were very disappointed when the power of the Peacock was revealed at the end of season 2. I was one of them. The concept of Amoks is far too similar to akumatized butterflies. Other Miraculouses have unique abilities and keywords for their powers, while Peacock just looks like Butterfly 2.0. That glowing mask effect just adds insult to injury.

You have to start by figuring out the powers of the Peacock in a normal situation. If a holder is a good person, then how does their power work? For example, make them related to sight (because of the "eye" pattern on feathers). Maybe, Peacock grants the ability to see the several possibilities of the future, but only a few minutes ahead. Maybe, this Miraculous gives you the ability to see through someone's eyes for a few minutes (and the victim is completely unaware of the intrusion). Perhaps, Peacock allows the holder to use feathers (or tiny peacocks) as cameras one at a time and be all-seeing. These feather-spies can be destroyed by the holder or disappear on their own after some time. Such power could be devastating when used against heroes in canon.

5. Bee can paralyze. This power is pretty straightforward. Once I read a fanfiction focused on very vell done Chloe Redemption, where she fights alongside Ladybug and Chat Noir. Eventually, she grows and becomes a better person. This fic ends with an Akuma battle, where LB and CN are trapped and Akuma is ready to kill them. But Chloe uses a second power of the Bee on the villain - Miraculous Stinger. It's deadly both for the holder and for the victim (because bees die when they sting someone). Chloe kills the Akuma with a Stinger before it can get LB and CN, but she too dies making the ultimate irreversible sacrifice. I will add a link if I find it again.

6. Turtle can create a shield. I don't have much to say on this either. It feels underpowered compared to others in the second tier. Maybe Turtle can also slow down opponents (because turtles aren't the fasters animals out there).

7. Fox creates illusions and acts as their puppeteer. In order to create a balance between other powers, these illusions must hold for as long as the holder needs them to. I propose this mostly because we see that Venom of the Bee lasts very long, the shield of the Turtle lasts either until it's destroyed or the holder wants to remove it, same goes for Akumas and sentimonsters who disappear only when the holder wants them to or their affected object is destroyed.

Let's talk about Zodiac tier. Miraculous of the third tier shouldn't have the second ability like more powerful ones. These powers are the most inconsistent. Even if we haven't seen all of them yet.

8. Mouse can create many small clones of the holder. It is unclear how these clones communicate with each other and how many of them this Miraculous can create. The holder can control the number of clones. This power was very convenient in "Kwamibuster" and it makes sense symbolically for the mouse. What activates the time-limit for children? Marinette didn't have any problems with it when she became Multimouse.

9. Snake can create a 5-minute time loop and has the ability to come back in time. This Miraculous feels a bit overpowered for the Miraculous of the Zodiac Tier. The holder can reset the time as many times as he/she needs to. It's was a good source of drama and trauma in "Desperada". I was honestly surprised that Adrien was capable of fighting after spending months in a loop. But this doesn't change the fact that Snake is overpowered. You can give this Miraculous the power to hypnotise or keep the time ability but place a limit on the number of resets. How does the lyre work as a weapon? Who knows? No one!

10. Dragon can shapeshift into elements: water, wind and lightning. It has the coolest transformation words hands down (Bring the Storm and Open Sky). Apparently this Miraculous doesn't have the time limit.

11. Rabbit can time travel or jump through alternative realities, even writers aren't sure. Time-travel in this show is so badly written it gives me a headache. This Miraculous shouldn't exist just like its powers. Snake belongs to the same tier, but 5 minutes and whole centuries of time jumps aren't comparable in power levels. They are not and this is the hill I will die on. Give the Rabbit powers related to its symbolism in China like an ability to de-age people, heal them or give them a speed boost in contrast with Turtle who might have the ability to slow down.

This Miraculous is so special that its Kwami - Fluff can live separately from his Miraculous in a Miracle Box for millennia (Fluff lives in the Box in "Sandboy", but his Miraculous, pocket watch, was passed down for generations in Alix's family). This is a discussion for a separate post, however. There's a lot to unpack. We'll do that some other time. You will suffer with me but at a later date.

12. Horse can create portals. They could lead anywhere, which is pretty cool. On the other hand, this power is not very useful in direct combat, especially when it's used by a child since we can have only one portal per transformation.

13. Monkey can cause a malfunction in powers of other people. What is the point of this? This power was specifically created by writers to defeat Akuma in "Party Crasher". That's it. What if your target is not magical? How does this Miraculous work in different circumstances?

14. Pig shows people their greatest desire. Both the holder and the recipient of this power can see this desire. Chat Noir wasn't impressed in "Guiltrip" and neither was I. It's underpowered compared to other Miraculous in this tier. Also, why does the tambourine can shoot energy beams? Why?

That's all I have to say on the matter. I'll update the power analysis as needed.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous analysis #miraculous meta #ml meta #ml analysis #miraculous transformations #miraculous critical #miraculous ladybug critical #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #mt of lb and cn #miraculous jewels

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100hearteyes · 4 years

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Part 2 of Clarke And Lexa Make a Porno, because why the fuck not.

Part 1.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anya's wolfish grin is no good omen. Lexa feels a sense of dread wash over her and tries in vain to assuage her nerves by holding her friend's gaze. Anya wouldn't look this sure if she didn't have some card up her sleeve.

Lexa throws a furtive glance around, checks that her co-workers are still focused on the German porn telenovela. It's only when she's sure that the action on-screen will keep them rooted for a while that she turns back to Anya, trying but failing to meet her eyes.

She overcompensates with another glance around the room and a low hiss. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but am I not too," she licks her lips, gathering the courage, "'vanilla' to do it?"

Anya shrugs like it's a no-brainer; crosses her arms and props her booted feet on Lexa's desk. "That's exactly the point. You're a lesbian Disney princess. Pretty sure if you started singing the whole fucking fauna of Capitola would follow you around."

Lexa levels Anya with a glare and tries to push her feet off the desk, to no avail.

(Seriously, what's it worth being editor if she can't even have her subjects' respect? She wishes this job was less about the headaches and more about the self-indulgent moments of microscopic tyranny.)

The feet might not budge, but Anya will. Lexa is sure of it. She draws herself taller and tucks on her most authoritative scowl. "I won't do it."

Anya plucks an imaginary cigarette from her mouth and throws it away without a care in the world. She reaches behind her and drags forth a heavy wooden box, filled to the brim with—

"My vinyls."

Lexa is in a daze.

She thought she'd lost all her vinyls to time and moving. She mourned each one of them for at least a year, cried many a night away clutching her record player to dear life, lamenting their shared loss.

They had a real connection.

But it turns out her vinyls weren't lost after all, and her tears were for naught. They were safe all along, albeit in different hands, and she'd known nothing of it, like a mother who lets her children wander about without aim nor authority.

How can she ever have kids if she can't even take care of her prized vinyls?

Lexa feels a prick of self-righteous indignation at the betrayal and puffs out her chest. "Why do you have all my vinyls?"

"I think you mean all my vinyls," Anya corrects with a lazy flurry of one hand towards the box.

"You don't even own a record player."

"How the fuck would you know?"

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I come over all the time?"

"I could hide it while you're there."

"And then you'd never find it again, because that's what happens every time you try to hide something from me."

Anya shrugs and watches as Lexa picks one of the vinyls and turns it over in her hands, reading the track list on the back with the reverence one would a millennium-old parchment. Then she looks up at Anya with a stern glare.

"Over half of these were stolen from my house."

Anya shrugs again with infuriating nonchalance and Lexa wishes she had a pencil nearby just so she could snap it in two with one hand. Or stab one of Anya's eyes with it.

"Maybe I just rescued them from the actual malefactor," drawls Anya.

"We both know the real culprit sits across from me and has been wearing the same socks for the past three weeks."

Nailed it.

When she looks at her friend, however, all she sees is that same old resting bitch face that never seems to go away.

"Wow, Lexa," Anya deadpans. "Now you've really hurt my feelings."

Sometimes, Lexa wonders if Anya really has a rock where her heart should be. A supernatural, blood-pumping rock, of course, but a rock nonetheless. Or, maybe, Anya is a psychopath. Maybe the blood money theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. That would explain the brazen lack of empathy for everyone else's feelings, most of all Lexa's. What does it say about Lexa that her one true friend is someone who sneezes literally every time Lexa says 'I love you'?

Not that Lexa says it a lot. Only once or twice every few years.

Just enough to have noticed the pattern.

"Are you really trying to blackmail me with vinyls?"

Anya fakes an affronted gasp, laying a hand on her heart. "Would I ever. Think of it as... an incentive."

Lexa really does love Anya, despite her friend's... unique demeanor. Anya helps her come out of her shell — by taking up all the space and forcing her out of her own metaphorical home — and every once in a while she likes to make sure Anya is aware of her gratitude. Sometimes, though, things get really fucking weird.

Lexa would still do anything for her best friend.

"Let's imagine, hypothetically - very hypothetically," she stresses, although Anya's burgeoning smirk tells Lexa she isn't so easily fooled, "that I agreed. What would happen next?"

Anya takes her feet off Lexa's desk and sits up straighter, perhaps aware of the importance of this moment. This, Lexa decides, will determine her answer.

"Well first, I'd have to get you a costar. Then we'd sign some legally binding shit, find a crew, and make the damn movie. Simple as that."

Anya leans forward, looking into her eyes. In Anya's, she sees honesty and a pressing need to reassure. It takes some of the pressure off her shoulders right away.

"Look, Lexa, you can say no. But your name won't be on anything related to the movie and I promise no one in this shitty town will ever find out you did this."

This is why Anya is Lexa's best friend. And it's why Lexa would do anything for her.

Even star in a porno.

"Okay."

Anya's inner smile must be really, really big, because Lexa knows how hard she tries to tamper its outward expression — and still her lips manage to lift into a grotesque grimace. Coming from Anya, it's the equivalent of a blissful grin.

"Okay?"

Lexa nods and closes her eyes, bracing herself for a bone-crushing hug. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, Anya's resting bitch face is back on.

"What, did you want a fucking hug?"

It's a blessing to have her rude friend back, Lexa guesses, because seeing Anya almost smile is fifty shades of unsettling. So she rolls her eyes and rolls with it.

Her next question demands her full focus, lest she makes an even bigger fool of herself than usual.

Lexa breathes in, makes sure all her co-workers are still otherwise entertained, breathes out. Smooths out a non-existent wrinkle in her pants, wets her lips for courage.

"Anyway," she treads with caution, "do you have someone in mind for the other main role?"

It's fitting that Harper McIntyre's hit song One More Betyreyal (one of her less inspired titles, if Lexa may say so) starts playing in that moment, for the look in Anya's eyes speaks of nothing but danger. Lexa wonders how much planning went into this conversation, so Anya could plan all her gut punches in advance.

"Clarke Griffin."

No. No. Anyone but her.

Clarke Griffin is the new recruit, although Lexa hardly understands how there can be someone new considering the station is broke and they’re already overstaffed — and none of them make nearly enough money for how much they laze around all day.

Clarke came from out of town with a fancy degree and was directly hired as an editor. She voices the early afternoon newscasts and Lexa curses the one-hour period during which she's forced to cohabitate with Clarke every day.

Apparently, Clarke had taken a liking to unnerving her, be it by smirking at her every time she catches Lexa staring or by making all sorts of inappropriate comments — to her ear. Lexa hates how much it affects her, but how can she possibly focus on reporting about Lionel "Real Sight" Foster swallowing his own wooden eye or how Jasper Jordan rescued his own private parts from the jaws of two slats of an unassuming park bench if someone keeps doing everything in their power to distract her?

Lexa has a theory (an iron-clad theory, if she may say so herself), and it's that Clarke is trying to get her fired so she can take her shift. It's the best shift of the day. There is no other possible explanation.

"You know what, I take it back. Now you need to convince two people to star in your porno."

"Oh, there's no need." Anya waves her argument away with staggering nonchalance. "Clarke's already said yes."

Wait, what? "But you told me we'd need to get me a costar."

Anya shrugs and Lexa is now seriously considering revisiting her psychopath theory. "I lied."

"You conniving, lying b—"

"Careful," Anya cuts in with a raised eyebrow. "I am under protection of the Capitola Astrologers Union."

"Of which you are president, treasurer, and the only legal member," Lexa reminds her. "And I think any upstanding judge would love to know how exactly every other name on the list has joined said union posthumously."

"I am an astrologer, Lexa. I can communicate with the dead. It's in my job description."

"It scares me that you're not even aware you're describing an entirely different profession."

Lexa sits back, staring at the ceiling (and the chewing gum Murphy glued there a year ago — he could've been an Olympic jumper if he committed to work the way he does to being an asshole), trying to come to terms with a single, harrowing probability: she's going to star in a porno with Clarke Griffin.

"l don't understand why it has to be Clarke."

Anya leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, expression serious and ready to talk shop. The last time Lexa saw her like this was— actually, Lexa doesn't think she's ever seen Anya like this.

"Look, I've done some market analysis and most girl on girl pairings are a blonde and a brunette." Anya raises both her hands and starts counting off fingers, "Brittana, Petramos, Holstein, Wayhaught, Supercorp, Joanarty, Choni, the inaptly named Shoni, Deanoru, Dana and Alice, Bette and Tina, Catradora, Villaneve, Clexa—"

"What's Clexa?"

"I don't know, some chicks from this fucking terrible CW show."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

"Clexa."

"Dude, I don't even know their fucking names!" Anya exclaims, exasperated. As if she's the victim here. "The only Clexa I ship is you and Blondie. Naked. On my porno. Clarke and Lexa. Clexa. Havin' very hot sexa."

"Smart," Lexa deadpans.

"I know."

"Why can't it be Niylah? She's blonde, too."

Anya's smirk is five hundred shades of gross. "I know you'd love to get up close and personal with Niylah's knick-knacks, but no."

Lexa decides to let the comment fly for the sake of her own sanity.

"Why Clarke, though?"

"Because you two have chemistry, you fucking dimwit."

Lexa snorts. Chemistry. Lexa has never heard of something so absurd. She and Clarke have as much chemistry as Harper McIntyre and any semblance of originality.

Which is to say, none at all.

"She makes very inappropriate comments," she argues instead, knowing full well that pressing on the topic of chemistry will only open way for some trademark crass joke from Anya.

"Yeah," her friend agrees, like it's obvious. "Because she knows you love them."

She most certainly does not.

"I most certainly do not."

"You do. Your freakishly tiny ears go red whenever she flirts with you. Your step falters when she makes one of those comments, for fuck's sake," Anya observes, pointing in Lexa's general direction, before leaving forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you, my friend, are a walking lesbian cliché."

Lexa takes Anya's hand off her shoulder. "Can you please stop insulting my tragically conspicuous homosexuality?"

"Oh please," Anya scoffs. "I'm bisexual, I can say whatever I want."

"If my step actually faltered - which they don't - it would be because her comments are annoying, off-putting, unprofessional, inopportune, and... and inappropriate", she finishes lamely.

"And you fucking love them."

"I don't."

Anya leans back on her chair with an evil smirk, propping her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. Lexa tries to push them off to no avail.

"Legalities aside, it's very simple. Clarke has already said yes. I just recorded you saying yes."

Lexa sputters, "You what--"

"You're both legally bound now." Anya shrugs. "Look at it this way: it will be very educational. You'll finally learn how to make a girl come, and get paid for it. Sort of."

A beat of silence.

"Anya, are you aware that you say something at least vaguely criminal every five sentences? Something that could actually put you in prison?"

Anya clicks her tongue, sinking farther into her chair, and lowers her sunglasses to her eyes.

"I've got friends everywhere, Lex. Let's just say I've dipped more than my fingers in my fair share of pies, if you catch my drift." A second later, she lowers her sunglasses just enough to reveal her eyes. "That means my tongue. My tongue's been in a lot of pies, too."

Lexa doesn't doubt that for a second.

"What I need to know is," Anya adds, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room, "will you dip your fingers in the porn pie?"

Like this conversation hasn't caused enough trauma for thirty lifetimes.

"If I say no, will you still give me back my vinyls?"

"Absolutely fucking not."

Lexa swallows, clenches her jaw, and thinks of all those lonely nights spent in the couch clutching her record player and sharing cookie dough ice cream with it, longing for long-gone times when she'd dance to the mellow voices of the likes Billy Ocean and Ella Fitzgerald.

"My answer is yes."

#that moodboard is way too serious for this lol #clexa #clexa au #clexa fic #clexa fanfiction #clexa fanfic #calmap #my fics #mine

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theymetinargentina · 4 years

Text

Sunflower / Harry Styles AU

Authors Note: Hello! This is an AU I thought of when I took a flight this past winter. I really hope y’all enjoy. As always comments and requests are always appreciated, they really help with motivation:) Feel free to interact in any way<3

Warnings- SMUT, daddy kink, choking, spanking (all that jazz)

Word Count- 2.8k

Enjoy<3

READ MY OTHER WORK HERE!

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“Alright passengers, I’m your flight attendant for today’s flight, my name is Jane and upfront our pilots are Harry and John, they’ll be making sure we arrive safely to our planned desination.” you smiled into the speaker, “We want to thank you for flying with us and hope you enjoy your flight, any concerns or questions feel free to flag me down and I will ensure all your needs are meet.” You spoke all this is your typical stewardess voice, a voice that took months to perfect and has slowly crept into your daily speaking habits.

Today’s flight was a short one, only about an hour and a half. While you normally preferred longer flights, as it meant you got to travel farther, today you were grateful for the time it meant you would get to spend with your boyfriend, the man who was in charge of making sure this plane arrived safely at its destination. You and Harry had been together for nearly four years, working together since the very beginning of your relationship, when it was barely that. Of course, you never intended to start a romance with one of your pilots, it sort of happened.

After you relaized you both would have to work together, panic settled in. Of course you really liked him, you spent nearly everyday with him since that first night. He couldn’t be further form bothered, only uttering, “Who cares….maybe we should tell them so they can see I got the one everyone drools over.” I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. I would be shamed for sleeping with one of the pilots, rumors would ensue over how you got such a sought after job.

However, one panic attack and a trip to HR later, everything felt at ease. Your job literally could not care less; and being with Harry, relaxed you. Who cares if people gossiped? It was no ones business. They could stare and talk all they wanted. They wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you upset by it.

Pushing through your anxiety was worth it, for Harry anything really was.

********** 4 years earlier **********

“I’ll get another drink please.”

“On it,” the very patient bartender responded, you had been moping around the bar for nearly two hours. You came here often enough to know which bartenders were working what shift. This is why you choose to come at this specific time. Noah, a slightly older man, was your favorite. He never tried to pry things out of you. Just let you sit at the bar with a solemn look on your face. Occasionally listening when you felt you needed to rant. A presence next to you snapped you out of your daze. The bar was fairly empty but the slightly musky air was still floating over our heads.

“Can you make that two, please? Go ahead and put it on m’ tab.” I slowly turned ready to dismiss whoever was interrupting my form of self-care. It was the same tall, lean man who had been shooting glances my way all night. Getting fairly close to me when he came to retrieve drinks for his group. “I’m Harry, and you are….?” he said cheekily

“Jane,” I deadpanned, “That is very kind but I am more than cap-” I stopped when I fully looked at him and saw how beautiful he was. His eyes were a blend of forest greens, almost overshadowed by how dilated his pupils were. His pink, full lips were pulled into a smirk, noticing I was staring.

“Baby, ‘m sure you’re more than capable,” he slyly said with a grin, Who was this man? And to have the nerve to tease me after only just meeting.

“Look, I was just sitting here enjoying a drink and I really don’t need anyone to pay for it.”

“I’m just tryna warm you up, take it...please?”

“Warm me up for what? You seem so sure of yourself, when all youve done is give me your name and pay for a drink.” I retorted.

He grinned again and moved closer, “I see that look in your eye, I know you want this darlin’,” he slowly inched his hand up my arm, pausing when he got to my collarbone, waiting for me to say no. He carefully encased his hand around my neck, looking into my eyes to silently ask if this was okay, all I could answer with was a nod. He put his mouth to my ear and hotly whispered, “Come home with me.” The ache between my thighs only got more intense. “Your friends wouldn’t like that,” I whispered lowly.

“Fuck them,�� he responded, his voice had significantly dropped and he sounded so sure. For some reason, I trusted him and felt myself slowly falling into his arms, both figuratively and metaphorically. I wrapped my significantly smaller hand around his wrist that was still holding my neck, “Take me then.” I whispered.

Our drinks long forgotten, he dragged me through the exit. When we stopped in front of a very expensive car I was surprised to think he would drive. “Wait,” I gasped, “you can’t drive, you were drinking.” I couldn’t hide the slight disappointment in my tone. He only chuckled, “I was the designated driver for tonight, had bloody virgin drinks all night.” He smiled. With that, we got into the car. Judging by his determined driving I assumed we would end up at his place. After a car ride filled with only the sound of our heavy breaths and quiet music, the air thick with tension, he parked. The house was fairly large for what I would assume was only one-man occupying it. Nonetheless, I followed him to the front door where he stopped and turned to me.

“I know I was pretty straight forward back there, but I’ll completely understand if you decide to change your mind.” Those words got me wetter than I already had been. I understood what he was saying though, and felt gratitude at his attempt to make me comfortable. However, I couldn’t help but let my eyes flicker down to the bulge in his trousers. I stepped up to him and rested my hands just below his belly button, “I want this,” I seductively whispered, “Tell me you want me.” He let out an animalistic growl and wove his hands around my backside, resting them on my hips.

“I want you so, so bad baby. ‘M about to come in my fuckin’ trousers. Got me so hard, you minx.” With that settled I pushed him towards the door hoping hed get the hint to open it and lead us inside.

Once inside the already thick tension erupted inside us. He pushed me up against the closed door and crashed his lips on mine. It was rough and hot as he poked his tongue at my sealed lips, I let him in, and our mouths explored each other. He groaned and motioned with his hands on my ass to jump. I happily leaped into his arms and continued our heated kissing. I felt him slowly begin walking upstairs, careful not to drop me. We broke apart to breathe, but I immediately began trail kisses along his jaw. When I reached a particularly sensitive point below his jaw, he moaned. Setting me gently on the floor he lifted the end of my dress, pulling it off me in one swift motion. His eyes widened at the sight beneath it.

“Completely bare, you filthy fuckin’ whore,” He said as he cupped my heat, smirking at the whimper I let out.

“Oh yeah? I bet you fuckin’ love it.” I replied breathlessly.

“I fuckin’ do. Daddy loves filthy whores .” His eyes had gotten darker and his voice had a dominating edge to it. I knew he wouldn’t go easy on me. And I was thankful. I decided if he wanted to be rough, so could I. He threw his head back and groaned when I dropped to my knees in front of him, “You look so damn beautiful on your knees.” He gripped my chin, dragging his thumb across my cheek and pulling my bottom lip down.

I whimpered at the throbbing between my legs, hoping to get some type of relief. His bulge had only gotten larger. I held lightly onto his thighs and gave rough kisses to his covered length.

He was stubbornly refusing to moan, I could hear his breath increase in an attempt to mask them. When I pulled both his trousers and boxers down; his thick, veiny length sprung up. The tip was bright red and leaked pre-cum.

I admittedly enveloped him in my mouth, his knees almost buckling at the sudden touch.

“Fuck baby…..shit, right there…...suck daddy’s cock.” He grasped my hair harshly, guiding my movements as I bobbed up and down his cock. When I hallowed my cheeks he gave an involuntary buck, his tip hitting the back of my throat causing me to gag. I pulled away quickly, gasping for breath with a line of spit connecting his swollen tip to my lips. I chuckled and continued to move my hand up and down, flicking my wrist slightly when I reached the head.

“You like that daddy,” I smiled at him. He finally gave me another beautiful moan that sent waves of pleasure to my throbbing core. “Mmmm,” was all he managed to respond before pulling me up to kiss me sternly.

“As much as I love that sweet mouth of yours, I wanna come inside you.”

He pushed me backward until my knees hit the bed. He climbed on top of me letting his hands roam toward my throbbing pussy, “please,” I whimpered; surprising me too. He chuckled sliding his hand over my slit. “Oh, fuck.” Gathering my wetness on the tip of his finger he slowly pushed one in.

I threw my head back and let out a moan. “All this for me, huh? Tell me who got you this wet?”

I could feel him threatening to pull his finger out, “Tell me who, and I’ll fuck you with my cock, the one you sucked so well.” He crashed his lips back on mine while hastily unbuttoning his dress shirt. “You want that? To have me fuck that tight cunt so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”

“Please…...daddy.” My whimper nearly killed him, the slow drawl out of me calling him daddy, I could tell he was trying to tame himself for my sake. But I wanted him to completely ruin me.

“Don’t be patient, ruin me…..please?” I juted out my bottom lip, partly to be cute and because I knew he would imagine me when I was on my knees for him.

I pulled at his belt buckle, he ripped my hands away and stood up. At first I thought he had changed his mind or something was wrong but he had a devilish grin on his face and lowly spoke in his sex-hazed raspy voice, “Get on your hands and knees.”

For some reason I responded to his voice immediately, rolling over so I was propped up by my hands, spreading my legs, hissing at the cool air hitting my slick core. My ass was facing toward him so I could only hear him remove his belt and step out of his trousers.

I jumped slightly when I felt him run the cool leather over my ass, “Look at you, spreading your ass for a stranger….. Such a fucking whore.”

I whimpered slightly and pushed my hips back slightly, hoping he would understand what I wanted. “You want me to spank you?” he snickered, “you keep surprising me Jane.”

Hearing him say my name drew a moan out of me, only nodding in retort to his question.

The slight sting that came was minimal in comparison to th pleasure I felt at his belt hitting my ass roughly. He brought it down again, and again, and again; each time making me moan louder than the last time.

When he dropped the belt I sighed in relief, I would finally get some relief from the ache that was ever increasing between my legs.

“Are you on the pill or should I-?”

I cut him off, “I’m on the pill, you can go bare.” I didn’t want the barrier of plastic between us, I wanted to feel every vein and ridge I had felt in my mouth.

With my confirmation he pushed in harshly, both of us moaning in unison, “Oh fuck…” I breathed. He set a rough pace, gripping onto my hips and pounding into me from behind.

“Shit…..you’re tighter than I thought baby, “ he groaned. The air was filled with sex and sweat. The only sound being our repeated mantras, oh fuck, right there, or don’t stop, and the borderline pornographic noise of skin slapping together. Harry reached his hand in front of me began rubbing fast circles on my clit. I cried out and knew from the sudden stimulation I was gonna cum sooner than I though, “I...I’m gonna cum, Harry.” I managed to get out.

“Cum for me baby, show me what a good girl you are for daddy, how much you love his cock.” With that I clench around his length that was buried to the hilt in me, all but collapsing from the overwhelming pleasure. I could feel Harry twitch inside of me and felt thick ropes of his cum coat my walls. He pushed himself balls deep, swirling his hips while riding out his oragasm. “Ohhhh, fuck baby….” he groaned.

I gathered enough strength to put my hand underneath us and tug on his balls lightly. He jolted and growled in my ear.

“You felt so good in me,” I whispered, in between our heavy breathing.

He laughed and pulled out, hissing lightly at the lack of warmth around his cock.

“It was all you darlin’.” I unvoluntarily clenched my thighs at the pet name. We both laid on our backs and stared at the wall.

“You can spend the night if you’d like,” he looked over at me with a glint in his eyes. I couldn’t say no, even if I normally refused to even spend longer than 5 minutes after with a hook-up.

“Sure,” I smiled.

********* Present Day **********

“Once the seatbelt light has turned off, you can go ahead and gather your things, exiting the aircraft in a effective manner, on behalf of all of staff we would once again like to thank you for flying with us today and hope you had a lovely flight.”

Once everyone was off the plane I unlocked the cabin door and struted inside, silently punching myself for choosing to wear heals. I mean, they made my legs look great and not to mention how fucking good my ass looked in this skirt, I knew Harry was itching to take it all off me.

“How was your morning Jane?” John asked sweetly. John was one of our newer pilots,doing his first few years under the care of Harry, a man with years behind his belt. He was a sweetheart, always kind-too kind if you asked Harry- and he respected everyone he worked with, no matter their own job.

“Not too bad, fairly calm flight. How were yours?” I asked them both.

“Good, John was in the lead for most of it. Fast learner this one.” Harry grinned, knowing how embarrassed John was with compliments. Sure enough when I looked at him, his cheeks were flushed pink.

“That’s very kind, but it’s all your teaching,” He replied, “I’m off, gotta go get some rest. I hope you both have a wonderful day.” He shook Harry’s hand and gave me peck on the cheek.

My eyes followed him out the door and I turned to Harry once he was out of sight, met with an unimpressed look.

“Oh relax, he always gives me a kiss on the cheek.” I said with a roll of my eyes.

“I’m just saying,” he stood and started gathering his belongings, “he tries anything else and I’m not holding back.” Of course John would never try anything, for one he was married, and he respected both Harry and I too much to ever do anything like that. It was simply a joke, stemming from the fact that a pilot that flew with Harry had commented about me, not being aware I was tied to Harry.

“I’m yours, you know that,” I grabbed onto the front of his suit and peered into his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re all mine, too look at, kiss, and grab,” he smirked, cupping my ass harshly at. I squealed and tried to push him away.

“People will see,” I laughed lightly, freeing myself of his grasp.

“Let them, they’ll finally understand not to talk about you,” he breathed, “Especially when they see me and think, ‘that bloke will fuckin’ kill me for disresectin’ his girl’” he beamed at me, clearly proud with the scenario he made in his head.

“You are such a dork.” We both grabbed our bags and began walking out the plane and into the airport.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he smiled with that goofy grin that always makes me laugh. I merely shook my head in response and thought, yeah I really did.

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

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