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#Designer Who Wants To Be Heard (Daisy)
allwaswell16 · 2 months
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A fic rec of One Direction fics where Louis is a villain of some sort as requested in an ask I can no longer find oof Hope you see this rec whoever asked for it! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!
- Louis/Harry -
💀 Wanted Most by BornOnABeach
(E, 156k, thief Louis) Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.
💀 Cover Me with Jewels by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove
(E, 55k, thief Louis) the one where Louis is a jewel thief and dating Harry Styles, the heir to a designer jewellery business empire, but Louis worries Harry will discover him, so he disappears for five years. 
💀 Tied Down by HamPalpert
(E, 48k, drug dealer Louis) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. 
💀 I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) by @theboyfriendstagram
(E, 42k, assassin Louis) AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister.
💀 Please, Deceive Me by Larringiscaring
(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis robs casino's with his ex-boyfriend, and Harry trusts a criminal a little more than he should
💀 no pressure, no diamonds by @karamelised
(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.
💀 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird
(E, 40k, thief Louis) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.
💀 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou
(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.
💀 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0
(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.
💀 focal point by rainbowsandgucci
(M, 8k, thief Louis) By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand. Don’t forget about me. xx P.S. Thanks for the money
💀 Daisy by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve
(E, 3k, mob au) An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.
💀 Stealing My Trust by Phillipa19
(E, 3k, organized crime) Harry hates the danger Louis' 'job' puts him in, but no one ever said being in love with a criminal would be easy.
💀 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle
(T, 3k, thief Louis) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.
💀 How to Catch a Christmas Tree by Anonymous
(E, 2k, omegaverse) It's two days until Christmas and Harry needs a Christmas tree.
💀 Marionette by Anonymous
(E, 2k, witch Louis) Harry is a vampire on the hunt. He doesn’t know that he’s not the top of the food chain.
💀 The shape I've made you into by flamboyo / @riverswater
(M, 1k, established relationship) "Sometimes, I wish you'd hit me."
💀 Twenty-Eight by @beardyboyzx
(M, 1k, spy au) Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.
- Rare Pairs -
💀 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer
(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.
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betweenlands · 5 months
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It takes exactly two seconds between Impulse looking up at the top of the Secret Keeper and him realizing what he's actually seeing up there to decide he is officially sick and tired of seeing ghosts.
There are seven entire ghosts around the thing today -- a couple appear to be tinkering with the secret delivery mechanisms. Impulse squints at them.
"What are you doing?" he says.
"Trying to figure out how to load more tasks into this thing," one of them replies, kicking one of the blocks with buttons on them. He's got a full beard and some weird green glowing mushrooms poking out of cracks in his face. It's definitely... a look, Impulse will give him that. Very Mycelium Resistance. "But whoever designed it used freakin' command blocks, and you can't even see the randomizer run."
"How many times did your randomizer break again?" one of the other ghosts calls from up on top of the Secret Keeper.
"Never!" the mushroom ghost protests, causing at least two other ghosts to crack up laughing. "It worked completely flawlessly except for user error."
One of the ghosts, someone who appears to have a floating cactus block for a head, snorts. "And programmer error."
"You shut it," the mushroom ghost responds.
"He's not wrong," the more normal-looking brown-haired ghost over by the command blocks says absently, purple eyes clearly focused on trying to trace the wiring back to the actual command blocks.
Impulse just stands there, bewildered -- both because the ghosts are actually talking to him, and also because these are extremely weird ghosts to be talking to who look nothing like anyone he's even vaguely heard of.
"Fine," he says, "you know what, I'll bite. Why are you guys here?"
"Checking in," a ghost sitting on one of the lower rocks says. He's wearing blue and yellow, looks to be a little more transparent than the others. "Y'know, new season and all that?"
Impulse squints at him. "No, I meant, why are you following me?"
"Ohhhh!" The ghost laughs. "Hadn't looked into what you were doing yet, and these guys wanted to see if they could get some of their tasks into the machine, so I just brought everyone along."
"That's not really a good answer," a ghost leaning inside the alcove under the Secret Keeper says. He's got a mask pulled up over his face, though his voice doesn't really sound muffled at all.
"What," the blue and yellow ghost says, "am I supposed to say something like it's because you're one of the people with no hard-and-fast thematic associations to stick to and therefore easier to facilitate a meeting with and freak him out more?"
Impulse squints harder. "Are you guys Watchers?"
The blue-and-yellow ghost snorts. "Hah! That's Martyn's lore, bud, not yours. Nope, nothing to do with the Watchers."
"Aren't you technically--" the ghost in the alcove starts.
"Tsssssshhhhhh," the other ghost replies by way of shushing him aggressively, "spoilers!"
"Alright," the alcove ghost says, spreading his hands in mock defeat, "fine, have it your way. He's right though. Not Watchers."
"Lowercase-w maybe," the brown-haired ghost still inspecting the redstone with the mushroom ghost says, "but otherwise, no."
Impulse is starting to feel like he's wandered into something way above his pay grade.
The alcove ghost snaps his fingers. Impulse notes somewhat absent-mindedly that he has, like, a lot of piercings on one ear. "Hey," he says, "come to think of it, we might be able to help you out with some stuff."
"I swear to God," another ghost says from on top of the Secret Keeper, "if you try to sell another person on your weird coffee god thing again-"
"I wasn't going to!" he responds. "Honest! I was just gonna say, it looks like there's a plains biome here, that means oxeye daisies, that means suspicious stew with regen if you can get a good source of mushrooms."
"Unfortunately," the mushroom ghost says, looking up from where he and the other ghost appear to now be trying to cram books into the ground, "the space for the hearts seems like it just kinda vanishes when people get hit. At least, if I'm not misunderstanding the programming."
"If you're misunderstanding the programming then we're both reading this code wrong," the brown-haired ghost says. "And I'm pretty sure I used something similar here for Dark Path stuff, so probably not?"
"Dang," the alcove ghost says, then tilts his head back towards Impulse. "Maybe make splash poison potions, then? That'll take out a good chunk of someone's health if they can't regen."
"He is green," the cactus-headed ghost says. "Why's he gotta make poison potions right now?"
A shrug in response. "Never hurts to prep early."
The blue-and-yellow ghost leans forward, squinting at him. "Alright," he says, "one of my wisps give you that idea or what?"
Another shrug. "I mean, what if they did?"
"Last time you started listening to his wisps," the brown-haired ghost says, "they told you to try and kill everyone just because I beefed it before the dragon fight."
"It would've worked if you hadn't warned them," the ghost in the alcove replies. "I can't believe you tried to sabotage my attempt at avenging you."
"I can't believe you listened to them in the first place," the blue-and-yellow ghost says. "They're bloodthirsty, they don't really give good advice."
"And I," Impulse says, having inched his way over towards the new task button, "am going to take my task and leave, because you guys are weird."
He hits the button and flips through the taskbook.
"End every sentence said to another player in a question?" he says, squinting down at it.
"You're already doing better than some of us were!" one of the ghosts on top of the Secret Keeper yells down.
"Oh my god, shut up!" the mushroom ghost yells back, and then turns to Impulse. "Hey, by the way, have you considered getting a pet parrot?"
"That's still a bad loophole and you know it," the blue-and-yellow ghost cuts in.
"I heard him just fine," the brown-haired ghost says. "Hey, hang on -- that's one of ours! It worked!"
Impulse decides he's not even going to bother trying to be polite about leaving. He has had entirely enough of these ghosts in particular.
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foranpo · 6 months
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◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑` rumours heard by... .༊
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‧₊˚. synopsis: gojo had vanity in his wings. perhaps, among the entire celestial realm, gojo's wings were the most beautiful and purest of them all. ㅤhowever, the contamination of a single feather makes the angel nervous about the destiny of his wings, leading him to ask god about the fate of corrupted wings. ㅤdriven by curiosity, and guided by god, gojo quickly finds his way to the underworld, where his mission to protect the devil leads him to discover truths that should not be revealed. ㅤwill the fate of his wings be more important than the truth about his own god?
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‧₊˚. fandom: jujutsu kaisen. ㅤㅤ˖°. characters: getou x reader. ㅤㅤ˖°. genre: long-shot. ㅤㅤㅤ˖°. au: celestial! ㅤㅤㅤ˖°. content: angst, major character death. ‧₊˚. word count: ~3k each part // 10k total.
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RUMORS HEARD BY THE ANGEL; ㅤㅤ–where the angel receives a new mission.
The sky was made of hundreds of celestial beings –small, magnificent and diverse creatures that effortlessly beautified the eternity of the kindest souls. However, of all existing creatures, the one that always stood out, the one that was always famous, was, without any doubt, the angel.
Everyone knew that to be an angel, to be worthy of possessing two beautiful white wings, one had to be, above all, beautiful. Of course, beauty was a subjective matter, with different perspectives shaping the meaning of the word itself; but the reality is that, in the celestial world, for someone to be beautiful, it was enough to be pure.
In the celestial world, where the color white ruled all beings present in paradise, the purity and innocence of that brilliant color dictated all laws and, as such, it was only natural for all celestials to be pure of heart. And, among so many candidates and so many angels, the purest creature of them all was, without a shadow of a doubt, Gojo Satoru.
There was not a single soul in that world who knew the origins of that angel or why he was considered the purest creature of all; however, everyone knew the reality that involved Gojo: of all the angels, he was the one who had the most beautiful wings: large and extensive, his feathers were extremely soft, making all creatures want to run their hands through them; the crown designated to Gojo, the small yellow daisies and gardenias, offered an extreme shine to Gojo's white hair, the play of colors hypnotizing so many creatures; the angel's eyes were already bright by nature, showing that that celestial being had already seen a lot, had already seen all of humanity's purest and darkest natures.
All this and much more made Gojo Satoru the most beautiful celestial being in that world –after all, Gojo not only had an interior that radiated white and yellow light, welcoming any being that spoke to him; no. Gojo Satoru also had unique physical beauty, hair and eyes, hands and lips, wings and words. Everything about Gojo Satoru was, in fact, beautiful.
However, it wasn't just that angel's singular beauty that made the celestial being someone to respect or admire –what really distinguished Gojo Satoru from all angels and creatures was the choice of pronouns he had decided to use. Choosing something as banal as a gender, Gojo's other colleagues began to treat him with respect, they began to congratulate him, to envy him.
Gojo Satoru was, in fact, one of the few angels who chose a gender, his rare decision being driven by the altruism of his heart, the hope of facilitating various conversations and missions showing the purity of Gojo's heart, making him the best angel in the heavenly world.
And, with Gojo being the best angel in the celestial world, it was only natural for god, for you, to constantly recruit him for your most important and cherished missions, Gojo's entire curriculum being filled with successes in missions of guidance and advice, Gojo's only failure being painted black on one of the smallest feathers on his right wing.
For, in the celestial world, missions dictated the wings of angels.
You didn't like to forgive as often as was believed, as you once did. After being betrayed time after time, you lost trust in your companions, your generosity was so characteristic that it was only exclusive to a few, to those who showed themselves worthy of your trust.
As such, you would like to punish the angels for their vanity.
By staining their wings with black petroleum, the feathers became tiring, the weight of failure making them so heavy that, if they were not compensated for in subsequent work, they would eventually fall off. However, if one was successful in their mission, the feathers would once again become extremely white, their lightness increasing their softness, forgiveness being conquered one feather at a time, the vanity of the angels losing importance after recovering their purity.
In fact, Gojo only had a single small black feather, so small that it was practically impossible to see; but Gojo knew it existed and knew that if he didn't make up for it, he would lose one of the feathers he treasured so much.
As such, and determined to show you that he was still capable of carrying out missions and erasing his failure, Gojo knocked lightly on the brown door in front of him, patiently waiting for your voice to sound on the other side.
“Come in,” you said monotonously, tired of such a long and exhausting day, wishing you could retire to your room and finally rest.
Upon your permission, a long, drawn-out sigh greeted Gojo as he entered, the desperation of your work being shrouded in hurt and tiredness –and Gojo shivered; he had never anticipated finding you in such a bad mood.
“Oh, Gojo. Do you need something?”
Your bright eyes quickly found Gojo's beautiful figure, the smile stuck on your lips being formed from the moment you pronounced your favorite angel's name.
Gojo had been to your office enough times to know that your affectionate greeting was your way of allowing Gojo to really enter the office –and he did so. With uncertain and calculated steps, Gojo carefully stepped on the red carpet of your office, his eyes always fixed on the chair he had to occupy.
In a few minutes, Gojo carefully sat down on the chair, arranging his beautiful wings so they wouldn't get deformed, and, when he was already comfortable on that wooden seat, he waited for you to speak to him –you always had to have the first word.
“So? To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
There was a certain tension between you and Gojo; there has always been tension between you and Gojo –ever since the angel remembered that tension filled the air when the two of you met, and what really worried Gojo was that he couldn't tell if the tension was something negative or if it was due to the fact that you respect Gojo like you've never respected anyone else.
There was a brief moment of silence filled with doubts on Gojo's part, curiosity slowly growing in you and, unable to bear the endless wait, you let out a new smile, a smile that carried with it the impatience you felt.
And Gojo shuddered.
As soon as that curved line formed on your lips, Gojo shivered, feeling obliged to speak. The angel took a deep breath in an attempt to gather all the strength that had abandoned him from the moment he entered the office; he swallowed hard, searching for the right words in his mind and, adjusting his right wing, Gojo finally spoke:
“I wanted to make up for the failure of the mission that stained my wing.”
You allowed Gojo's request to hang in the air like angels' feathers, the lightness of his words being transported to a universe far from you, Gojo's bright eyes unable to meet your face as you waited for Gojo's speech to come to an end.
But how could the angel finish his reasoning if he didn't even know what to do?
The reality is that Gojo had heard rumors.
During his time in the celestial world, there were several rumors that roamed the corridors of the great palace, the whispers of the various angels and archangels becoming so common that one thought they were true stories.
Rumors were told in laughter and whispers, some more detailed than others, the sweet and bitter words that slipped through the lips of the various celestials carrying lives and hopes, destroying reputations and goals.
In fact, the rumors in the celestial world were something that was on everyone's lips; even though no malice was found in the pronunciation of the immense words, the reality is that all the consequences that those simple rumors could bring were inevitable.
And that was why Gojo avoided them at all costs –after all, Gojo was the best angel in the celestial world.
However, there was a rumor that seemed to entice Gojo, the devil's own hand guiding the various words to the angel's ears every time that subject was mentioned by others.
Because, quite simply, Gojo couldn't ignore rumors about angel wings.
Gojo has always had a special liking for the various wings that existed, admiring the different shapes and sizes, the textures of the feathers and how they changed depending on a mission. Wings have always been something that intrigued Gojo. Yes, the angel always felt amazed at the various wings that were found in the celestial world, so it was only natural for him to hear the various rumors that alluded to such a delicate and gentle topic.
Several rumors had been heard by Gojo, all of them carefully considered in an attempt to understand the complexity of those gossips, trying to unravel which were true and which were the most absurd. However, the reality is that in a world where everything has to be true, it was quite difficult to find something that was a lie.
In this way, Gojo always feared.
There were several rumors that he heard, true, but most of them were filled with a negativity that should not be so simple for celestial beings to pronounce.
Gojo always lived under the illusion that angel wings were something guaranteed, something that one got as soon as they reached heaven and proved their worth to god, to you. However, with so many rumors running through the angel's ears, Gojo began to value his wings more, stroking his feathers three hours a day, washing them with precision and care, his most precious possession being those two gifts offered by you.
“Is the black feather bothering you?”
No response.
No reaction.
Of course the feather was bothering Gojo. Spending a life immersed in the purity of white, having a small black spot that carried malice with it was everything that bothered that angel the most.
Gojo sighed, unable to find the courage to speak anymore, hoping that you would be the same as always and continue your thought out loud, giving Gojo a small opening to finally speak.
“Why does it bother you so much? You’re not the only one who only has a dark feather,” you smiled, as if finding the whole situation amusing, as if delighting in Gojo’s concern.
And Gojo knew.
Gojo knew that he was not the only one who carried with him the consequences of poorly executed missions, he knew that there were many angels and archangels who vainly displayed the beauty of all their feathers so that all who deigned to see them would know that they had stories to tell. But Gojo wasn't like them. Gojo was different. And, being different, he wanted to remain pure, he didn't want to be corrupted by failure and, as such, he was determined to have a mission that would compensate him for that small, shy black feather.
“I have heard rumors, my liege.”
Gojo began to speak quietly, the angel's tired eyes focusing only on your table, the various manuscripts and illegible letters becoming everything that Gojo saw. “And, honestly, they are the ones that bother me the most.”
“What rumors?”
You seemed to be genuinely interested in the angel's words, putting down your pen that you were writing with and resting your elbows on the table top, while you let your star-stained hair entice Gojo to look at you –as soon as the shine and smell of your hair became intense, the angel could no longer retreat.
Gojo stared at you, losing himself for brief moments in your intense eyes, falling into the stories they told with each wink.
“Gojo?”
“Rumors of…”
Should Gojo tell you the truth? To his superior? What if the reality of all the rumors he heard was just that? Mere rumors that had no basis of truth? But still, there was a small part of Gojo that believed these rumors, a small part that wanted to know the truth about them, that little black feather enticing Gojo's lips to utter the question that had lodged itself in the angel's throat for so long.
 “What happens when an angel has all his wings painted black?”
“Is that what worries you?” The laugh you let out was loud and melodious, the echo of the fun you felt echoing loudly in your office, bringing a little comfort to that large room. “I doubt you’ll let your wings get all contaminated.”
“But what happens?”
Gojo's insistence was something unusual for the angel, after all, Gojo had never let his curiosity and fear tarnish his purity. That is, until he finally got a black feather.
The silence that followed was different, filled with doubts on both sides.
Your eyes showed a bit of concern in their intense shine, the smile you always wore on every occasion fading as soon as Gojo's insistence was felt in the angel's inappropriate words.
The wait that existed to find out who would be the next to speak seemed endless, with neither of you wanting to take the first step to reestablish the conversation.
In fact, a lot of time has passed since Gojo's last words hung in the air, you looking at him attentively, Gojo looking away from your figure, completely consumed by the shame of his actions –Gojo shouldn't have asked that.
“Gojo, let me ask you something.”
You carefully dragged your chair just enough to give you room to get out, your feet lightly stepping on the office carpet as you walked to the golden shelf, the shelf that was meant for the more complicated missions, the missions that were only assigned to the best angels of all.
“You've been here for a few centuries. I'm sure you've seen a lot. Both in our world and in the ancient world. So let me ask you… Have you ever seen an angel with completely black wings?”
Your question was dragged by the turning of pages of the book you were holding, the sight of your delicate movement calmly and patiently dragging the question to Gojo's ears.
As soon as the angel heard the words, as soon as he processed what you had asked him, Gojo realized that, in fact, he had never seen anyone with completely black wings. Yes, he could have seen large wings stained with black, but some purity and innocence of the white of the angels always managed to quickly contrast in those wings. No celestial being was wearing fully black wings in that world.
“I deduce that, from your silence, your answer is negative.” You once again adopted that smile that was so characteristic of yours, the various meanings that that simple curved line contained had yet to be revealed. “I confess that I am not the best soul to answer you, Gojo. So I think this mission will be useful for you. For your curiosity, I mean. And, if you're lucky, who knows, maybe for your feather as well.”
When you spread out a single sheet of paper, Gojo realized that a new mission was being assigned to him and, consequently, a new opportunity.
As such, and determined not to make a mistake that time, Gojo grabbed the sheet of paper, decoding some letters where the ink was still drying, quickly discovering that this was a mission written by you in that short space of time while you hoped that Gojo would answered.
However, it wasn't the speed with which you wrote the mission that surprised Gojo –no. What caught the angel's attention the most were the small, detailed letters that spelled out the name of the being that Gojo was supposed to protect and guide, those five letters coming together perfectly on the white paper, forming a single, powerful word.
“Creator, it must be a mistake …”
Gojo didn't want to believe what his eyes read over and over again, the name of the being insisting on being read by Gojo, stealing his voice and his concentration.
“There’s no mistake, Gojo.”
And there was your smile once again, as you watched your pupil read the name of his new mission over and over again.
“Your new mission is to be the devil’s guardian angel.”
And, in fact, it was no mistake.
Gojo's descent into the lost world was long and fearful, so many doubts and fears arising in Gojo without the angel's permission, a fear for his stay becoming increasingly overwhelming with each step closer to his destination.
The underworld was, in reality, something totally different from the heavenly world and Gojo did not feel at all comfortable in it. To begin with, the angel had to hide his beautiful wings, refusing to dye them black for fear that they would remain dark; Around him, darkness and obscurity tried to tarnish Gojo's purity, enticing him to the darker side of existing beings, trying to pull him into that dark and cold world. The angel looked around, the lack of beings intriguing him, the atmosphere differing from the celestial world in every aspect.
How was Gojo supposed to last six months in that world?
“Are you lost?”
A laugh echoed in that cave, a shiver taking over the angel as the echo amplified the malice hidden in that innocent question.
Gojo looked to the side, seeing a tall and handsome young man with a smile on his face, a bit of uncertainty being brought out in his intense gaze. Gojo stared at that man, the angel's tired eyes admiring the figure before him, wondering how someone as beautiful as him could be in such a dark and wicked place.
“You’re new here, is that it? Well, welcome to my kingdom!”
His kingdom?
Gojo opened his mouth gently as he looked at the man, the darkness of the cave now shining with a bit of light that the full moon provided at that moment and that was when Gojo really saw it: wicked smile on his lips, dark eyes shining with mischief, small, curved horns coming out of the man's head showing his evil nature, and denouncing that he was, in fact...
“The devil…”
Gojo's sigh quickly evaporated into the darkness of the underworld, the coldness of that atmosphere quickly freezing the angel's realization, not making it walk very far from the two of them.
Gojo didn't want to believe it.
He knew that the underworld was full of malicious and dangerous souls, people who had strayed from the path of kindness, angels who had betrayed you; however, Gojo never expected to find a figure as beautiful as that man, something different about him pulling Gojo more and more towards the malicious ways of the world, the darkness that existed around him focusing only on the devil, on his beautiful figure, on his wicked smile, on his cursed essence.
When he heard his name, the man expanded his smile, his eyes adopting a new and mysterious shine, his lips carefully, sensually and persuasively pronouncing the words that quickly escaped his mouth, traveling throughout his world, making shake all the inhabitants of his kingdom:
“In the flesh.”
RUMORS HEARD BY THE DEVIL; ㅤㅤ–where the devil resembles an angel.
The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. An overwhelming darkness covered the entire length of that place, no light, plant or being deigned to take root in that soulless place.
The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. He was lost, his body still very trembling from the fall he suffered, his eyes still burning from the disloyalty he suffered, his head filling with unknown voices, with voices that shouldn't be there.
The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. Therefore, overcome by the anger that consumed him and the feeling of betrayal, Getou decided to act.
The beginning wasn't easy, after all, Getou didn't know what to do, let alone how to do it.
It had been several days in which Getou stood observing the ancient world, waiting patiently, looking for ways and means to get some company –but oh, what a fantastic job the angels were doing in guiding the many lost souls. But the loneliness became desperate at that moment, the voices ringing loudly and enticing Getou to act, to do something for him once in his eternal existence.
And, since he never had the ability to rebel, Getou decided to follow the orders of the voices inside him.
Getou's voice began to sound like a melody in the ears of many people, encouraging them to disobey their angels, intriguing them with his company, leading them down through dark and dead-end paths.
As such, little by little, with your rejection of the evil paths they followed, Getou decided to welcome the abandoned souls, building a small kingdom of his own –a small kingdom that expanded over the centuries, Getou's need of not feeling alone calling so many different people.
But it was never enough.
For some reason, no matter how many corrupted souls Getou harbored, he always felt alone. And, as he was corrupted by the feeling of loneliness and betrayal, Getou's kind nature found itself destroyed by the shadows of his new kingdom, the darkness of the underworld hiding all the good and bright memories, leaving him with only the anger of a betrayal he would never forgive, nor understand.
“What’s your name?”
In addition to managing that new kingdom, one of Getou's many jobs was to guide souls lost in the underworld, giving them a shelter and an occupation, knowing perfectly well that an eternity could become boring if it wasn't occupied with a good hobby.
Getou guided the newcomer through the turbulent paths of the underworld, his eyes always attentive to all the activity that was going on, trying to understand if something was out of place or if someone needed something –maybe there was still a little kindness left in the midst of his destruction.
The girl didn't speak, shy for being in the presence of the devil, scared for being away from her relatives and friends; it was a premature harvest, indeed, but it was something necessary for the existence of that little soul, since, if it spread its existence in the ancient world, the result could be much worse.
“You’re not alone here. I guarantee you that at least one member of your family is here too.”
Getou stopped walking and faced the young girl.
Having been ruling that kingdom for centuries, Getou's patience had been corrupted with tremendous ease, especially because none of those souls that roamed there deigned to facilitate his work –not that Getou was afraid of punishing them, he just hadn't time for that.
So, just one look from him was enough to make the girl speak, her name escaping from her lips in fear and respect, the smile that appeared on Getou's face being malicious as he realized that that new soul was not, in fact, alone.
“You helped her.”
Gojo appeared behind Getou, confusion expressed in the beautiful features of his face, Gojo's eyes wandering with some curiosity to that girl's embrace with her aunt.
“Shouldn’t I?”
Getou laughed a little, walking away from that tender scene and heading towards the office –there was so much work pending.
“It’s just that…”
“You just thought I was a heartless creature who just wants to see disorder in this world and the ancient one.”
Gojo did not respond, following Getou at the pace dictated by the sovereign, waiting for him to continue speaking, as he always continued to speak. “I heard those rumors. My subordinates insist on telling me everything that involves my name. A creature’s imagination goes beyond unreachable worlds.”
“So it’s not true? That rumor, as you called it.”
Gojo was feeling strange, completely confused by what had happened, wondering for two months now if all the rumors he had heard about that place were, in fact, true.
“Oh no,” Getou laughed and entered the office, a space quite similar to the one you used, the choice of furniture and colors being made on purpose to tease you. “It is true. But seeing destruction all the time becomes boring. Every now and then, a good deed can bring joy.”
Gojo's eyes were fixed on Getou's figure from the moment he sat down at the desk and, very reluctantly, began to observe all the papers of the various and infinite souls that still roamed the ancient world, carefully reading their entire journey, mentally asking himself who should come and visit him and when they should do it.
As much as he wanted to deny it, and even though he was already used to his mission, Getou always felt discomfort when it came the time to choose the next soul to be harvested; at first it seemed to be easier, his loneliness and hatred constantly driving his bad actions –but now everything changed, and Getou couldn't understand why.
And Gojo stood staring at Getou, forgetting that his job was to help him choose between those piles of less fortunate candidates.
However, the reality is that Gojo was never able to help Getou, and was still pondering the devil's words; Gojo found himself less and less capable of carrying out the obligation that was given by Getou from the moment he arrived in the underworld.
Gojo was, above all, an angel, and, being an angel, it was against his nature to choose the corrupt destiny of anyone, especially the various souls that roamed the ancient world –but Gojo just had to fulfill his obligation, his disguise having to remain intact for another four months.
However, at that moment, everything seemed complicated to Gojo.
Seeing Getou there, so reluctant to choose anyone, hearing him mention kindness with purity gracing his lips, everything seemed strange to Gojo. Everything seemed like a lie and he didn't seem to be able to understand what was really going on.
“How did you become the devil?”
Gojo's question had caught Getou off guard, his words forcing all his movements and attention to focus only on those simple words, his entire body shaking involuntarily when remembering a past that Getou just wanted to forget.
“Don’t call me that.”
Getou was proud to be the devil, that was true, but seeing a creature as beautiful as Gojo uttering a word denoting such hatred and corruption, made Getou feel angry without knowing why. “Devil. Lucifer. Beelzebus. What’s-the-name. None of them should be pronounced by you.”
“Why?”
Gojo wanted to stop being so confused by everything that was going on: his entire existence in the underworld was marked by traces of confusion and struggle –nothing seemed true to him. Gojo felt like he was living in a lie, that kingdom of Getou keeping secrets in all the shadows and coldest corners, no one being able to clarify a little the ideas of that angel so devoted to his work, and his wings.
“Because an angel shouldn’t be surrounded by corruption, much less verbalize it.”
Getou returned to his work as if nothing had happened, his observation catching the angel completely off guard, his lips uttering empty words without any meaning, no response being able to be constructed by Gojo.
“How do you…”
“You said it yourself the first time I saw you, remember?” Getou raised his head and faced Gojo, no smile filling his face, no sparkle beautifying his eyes. “I am the devil. As such, I know everything. More than your boss. More than you can imagine.”
Gojo took a deep breath.
How should he act? If Getou knew he was an angel, he certainly also knew what mission he was carrying out, what meant the failure of his mission, what meant another black feather in his repertoire.
“What should I call you, then?”
No. Getou couldn't know that Gojo was playing the role of his guardian angel; Getou's choice to use Gojo as his secretary was pure coincidence, the angel just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Getou didn't know about Gojo's mission.
“I was once known as Getou.”
There was a trace of longing stuck in his name, the memories of when he had an identity outside the underworld tormenting Getou from the moment he uttered that name of his that caused him so much hurt.
“What changed?”
The angel's question hung in the air for some time, Getou trying to escape that question by focusing on his work, all the letters becoming blurred when his eyes decided to shine with the longing for his past.
“None of the rumors are true…”
Getou gave a dull laugh when he remembered the barbarities he had heard about his story –that was why Getou began to hate angels. Living in a perfect world, where everything is guaranteed, none of those celestial creatures knew the cruel reality of existence, none of them knew the truth.
However, it seemed that all the angels had an opinion to give, rumors roaming the upper realm with tremendous ease, no true basis to support them, no one really wanting to know the truth.
“What rumors?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Getou sighed and let his body relax in the chair, his eyes closed in an attempt to contain all the pain he was feeling at that moment. “That I betrayed god and that's why he expelled me from your world. Or that I made so many mistakes in my missions that I fell. That I am the first fallen angel. Didn’t you hear any of that?”
Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors and many more, the mouths of the various angels being stained by the dark stories of this world and its sovereign.
Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors and believed them all, as he had always been taught that the devil was the evil figure in all existences.
Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors, but since his stay in the underworld he realized that maybe, but just maybe, all those rumors were false, the devil he met in that place being totally different from the devil portrayed by angels and humans.
“What did you come here for? To my kingdom?”
Waiting for a response from Gojo was proving tiring, Getou's time being precious as his work increased with each birth in the ancient world. Getou wanted to end the conversation, not quite knowing how, not being able to figure out what direction it could take, Gojo's curiosity being something different, something unexpected in an angel as beautiful as him.
“I came on a mission.”
There was no reason to lie, to hide anything.
During those two months in Getou's kingdom, Gojo learned that he couldn't stand lies and he wanted to try to be as honest as possible; that is, as honest as possible without tarnishing his precious wings.
“I came to find out what happens to the wings once they all turn black.”
A new moment of silence appeared between Gojo and Getou, this time the angel's words taking the devil by surprise.
Getou stared at the angel without any expression other than pure perplexity, his words flying so delicately to the safest corners of the office, settling in inappropriate places for words as pure as those.
Getou stood up abruptly, his eyes seeing nothing but Gojo's beautiful figure and, without realizing it, he spoke in a small, prolonged whisper, his voice, always so lofty and powerful, becoming submissive before Gojo's mission.
“Let me see your wings.”
Gojo remained static for a moment, staring at Getou and trying to understand whether his request was driven by madness, curiosity or simply his knowledge of wing anatomy.
Gojo didn't want to take any chances –after all, they didn't know each other at all and he had already heard several stories that addressed Getou's perversity and malice. But Gojo had also seen a different side of him, a side that no one talked about or was even remotely interested in, especially because Gojo was sure that no one knew that side of Getou.
And, preferring two months of coexistence with Getou to centuries of rumors heard about him, Gojo allowed his wings to tear his black clothes, their whiteness and purity able to proudly illuminate Getou's office.
The wings were large and long, Getou's eyes bet that they were extremely soft, and the gentleness with which they moved in the air as they adapted to their original shape was of an extremely delicate and beautiful nature, worthy of the most beautiful of angels.
Getou cautiously approached Gojo, totally mesmerized by the innocence of those white feathers, and, with care and delicacy, Getou allowed one of his hands to touch Gojo's feathers and smiled: they were really soft. Getou gently stroked some feathers on Gojo's right wing, his smile showing a bit of longing and some sadness was trapped in his eyes, threatening to come out at any moment.
“You have beautiful wings, Gojo.”
Getou had one rule for himself and one rule only: he never allowed himself to address any soul that inhabited his kingdom by its proper name. For centuries, he created nicknames and baptized people with new names, all because he believed that no one deserved to have their name tarnished with his words and voice full of malice.
But at that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered when he had the softness of pure wings in his hands once again. Nothing mattered when their innocence managed to convey a little hope in that world, in Getou's world.
“I don’t think you have to worry about black wings.”
Gojo didn't say anything.
With a quick but calculated movement, he lifted the wing that Getou was stroking, the small black dot standing out in the midst of so much purity –and Getou watched that feather carefully, memories quickly passing through his mind with that simple scenario.
Getou sighed and slowly returned to his place, standing, facing Gojo and, without any use of words, his own wings appeared on his back, tearing his shirt, exposing himself in his grandeur.
At the beginning, there was an intense, white light, Getou's wings being short but abundant, his two wings having a simplicity and beauty that made them unique. But then, as quickly as the passing of a lifetime, Getou's wings were all stained black, the softness giving light to harshness, the weight of corruption becoming so much that some feathers began to fall out.
And at that moment, Gojo was able to see.
Although when white they covered its entire length, when black there were empty spaces, tremendous flaws in that picture that could be so beautiful when observed carefully.
Getou's wings showed the weight of deception, the weight of failure.
And at that moment, Gojo hesitated.
“It’s not as bad as it seems.”
Getou tried to smile a little, tried to laugh a little, but the pain he still felt was strong, taking over his words, his emotions.
And Getou, without meaning to, was already crying. “It’s much worse.”
This time, Getou managed to laugh, a sound that was once feared by everyone, now brought regret with it, Gojo feeling overwhelmed by the whole sight –it was all happening too fast. Gojo didn't know how to act.
“You…”
“Yes, I was an angel. Yes, I was the first fallen angel. That part, at least, is true.”
Getou was ashamed of his wings: not because they were black, for he found beauty in their darkness; not because they were short, as he found tenderness in their shape; but rather due to the fact that they were less and less when exposed and Getou knew what would happen when all his feathers fell with the weight of a betrayal unknown to everyone.
“But I didn’t make a mistake. I didn't fail. Maybe... Maybe my only mistake was too much devotion. But I didn’t deserve my fate!”
Getou wanted to continue speaking, he wanted to warn that beautiful angel who stood before him, but his suffering spoke louder, choking him with a long-awaited cry, the anger he felt for all the angels and archangels being expressed in his silent screams that trapped his heart, that prevented him from feeling anything other than hatred and sadness.
Getou was suffocating in his own feelings, in his own pain, and there was no one who cared, there was no one who wanted to know.
There was no one until Gojo decided to shelter Getou in his arms.
Not only did Gojo hug the devil tightly, protecting his body from all the hatred that could be felt in that compartment, but he also made use of his delicate nature. In a gentle and somewhat quick movement, Gojo's wings carefully wrapped Getou, offering a little tranquility to his tormented mind, sweeping away with the movements of his wings any and all hesitations that might exist in Getou's anguish.
And the angel waited.
Letting Getou let go of all the negativity at that moment, Gojo waited for him to calm down, for him to be at least comfortable to continue that conversation, not being able to understand very well what had happened.
It all happened very quickly: the exposure of Getou's wings, his words, his hurt.
Gojo had hesitated the whole time, not knowing how to respond, or if he should –after all, Getou was the devil.
But if Getou was the devil, it meant that, at a certain point, he had been an angel, and if he was chosen from among the most diverse souls to carry the weight of purity and generosity, it meant that Getou, at a certain point, had been kind. Not only that; Gojo swore that Getou still held onto his true nature with strength and pride, his small gestures of kindness bringing him peace of mind.
Because Getou, quite simply, had been an angel before being the devil.
“I didn't do anything,” Getou's voice came out hoarse, oppressed by his crying, tired from so many centuries of loneliness and sadness; but at that moment, he didn't feel alone. “I did nothing. It’s all their fault.”
“Their?”
Gojo walked away, curious about Getou's words, a little afraid of what might follow –because, deep down, Gojo already knew which way that confession would take.
“The one who kicked me out of your world.”
Getou's words were filled with hatred and bitterness, something so characteristic of the character he had adopted so long ago. His eyes burned with tears, yes, but beyond the glow of sadness, the glow of hatred reigned, his lips pronouncing with clarity and spite all the words that followed, showing Gojo that he remembered perfectly what had happened centuries ago. “Your sovereign. Your god.”
RUMORS HEARD BY THE GOD; ㅤㅤ–where god confessed their secret.
In the beginning, you weren’t called god.
Before the beginning of all things, you had a name, a single word that was spoken with satisfaction and respect by all the souls that inhabited the celestial world. To match your unique beauty, you were called YN –a name so unique and unusual, a celestial magic clinging to each different pronunciation, a ray of hope and forgiveness clinging to each syllable of that name you adopted, that name that Getou gave you.
Yes, because, in the beginning, you only had Getou.
Before the beginning of all things, you created Getou, the most beautiful soul that would ever exist.
For long eternities, Getou had been your only company, his presence making you grow, his unpredictable nature making you always curious about Getou. Because, even though Getou was your creation, you couldn't figure him out.
Getou was unique, even in a universe where only darkness, you and him existed. Getou was different, even in a universe where only shadows, kindness and curiosity existed.
And, because he stood out from all the darkness and light, you idolized Getou, the master becoming the student in the teachings of essences, an immense desire to satisfy him taking over you.
Your relationship with Getou was complex, a mutual respect and admiration was born as natural as the first star in the sky –as the first gift from you to Getou.
Getou captivated you with his words, speeches on subjects yet to be studied enticing you to want to know more about them, to want to show that he was right or to prove that he was wrong.
And, after the first star, the first planet appeared.
Small creations appeared after Getou's arrival in the universe, the need to complete Getou moving your hands, no plan passing through your mind beyond that curious look and Getou’s lips dyed by malice.
Getou was darkness before you and goodness after you. Getou was your downfall, the prevailing of darkness. And you knew it, and you feared Getou for it. For, from the moment Getou decided to name you god, his lips contained all the power to destroy the universe.
Your name never sounded so melodious when spoken by Getou, and you knew it. It was the way his lips moved perfectly, the way only he got the correct pronunciation of your name, the way a smile clung to his lips every time he said your name: YN. YN. YN.
You were afraid of Getou. You were afraid of the power you had given him by allowing him to create a new word that portrayed god. YN. That should be a forbidden word, a swear word even, all the power that that simple word contained being extremely dangerous for Getou, for you, for the universe.
But you always forgot your fear every time a new creation was requested by Getou.
After so many stars and constellations, entire galaxies were home to planets and colorful clouds, nebulae and stars decorating what was once just darkness and gloom. There was water and trees on Getou's favorite planet, flames and ice in the spheres that proved theories wrong. Getou was the cause of all creations. Getou questioned you and you responded, creating all his doubts and provocations.
Perhaps, if you hadn't let yourself be dazzled by Getou, you would have realized all the malice that was hidden beneath his angelic words.
It was only a matter of time before other beings were created, the celestial world being home to so many beautiful creatures –angels, archangels and souls too pure to be placed in the confines of the universe; several beautiful and imaginary creatures became your friends, a vast network of family members forming from the moment Getou confessed to you that just two souls couldn’t control the immensity of existence.
And that's why guardian angels were created.
Getou wanted an activity that would occupy him now that all possible creations had already seen the light of your hands. Getou wanted something that would make him as curious and happy as questioning you. Getou wanted to continue to have some power, even subjugating himself to you, to his god.
As such, and always thinking about satisfying him, you created humans.
Souls without any experience of the universe were spread across the most diverse planets, teams of angels being deployed to different parts of the universe, Getou leading all the angels –after all, and since he was your right-hand man for all eternities, it was only natural for him to be the first guardian angel and the one who commanded all the others.
Yes, it was hard work, quite complicated even, Getou's entire attention focused on angels and humans, endless piles of resumes and information flooding your favorite angel's dark and cozy office.
It was complicated, yes, but you were always by Getou's side.
You were in charge of guiding Getou, helping him understand when a human needed help and when the time was right to let angels follow those lost souls.
Entire generations were spent in each other's company, nothing changing since it was just you, Getou and darkness.
You became god of all existing creations and Getou became the guide of all souls in the universe.
And you two were happy.
Engaged in tasks and with new things emerging depending on the creatures' evolution, you and Getou were happy.
The universe was in harmony.
Guided by the wisdom of so many pure souls, there was no disorder or malice in existence. Kindness prevailed. Every time a mistake was made and admitted, you forgave and Getou guided the right path to that soul. Everything was perfect. Everything was light. Everything was good.
But nothing lasts.
Gojo Satoru was a human like any other, with the only difference being that Gojo carried on his shoulders the overwhelming weight of a life guided by tired angels. Several guardian angels had been put in charge of Gojo, all of them giving up when they saw his simplicity, when they realized that, in reality, Gojo didn't need them, all of the angels believing that the young human was fine on his own.
And so many angels neglected Gojo that even the human began to neglect himself.
For where the light of the angels does not shine, darkness prevails.
Getou heard about this story.
Getou learned of Gojo's situation, and Getou studied Gojo's situation, and Getou became interested in Gojo's story.
Getou wanted to help him. It was obvious that he wanted to help him, after all, he was an angel –a guardian angel. As such, Getou spent endless times in the comfort of his office, papers and plans rushing through Getou's hands and mind at such a speed that it resembled the speed at which rumors flew in the celestial world.
Rumors that were heard by you.
Since Getou never directly took care of any soul, since he didn't have time to do so, whispers and sighs were created so quickly, telling the news of his new project to whoever heard them, culminating in your docile ears.
Getou hadn't told you anything: why bother you, the supreme sovereign, with a mere human? And perhaps that was Getou's mistake –because, in the existence of goodness, there will always be malice.
Angels were the most gossipy beings in the celestial world. Spending eternities getting to know each other and uncovering their own secrets, it was always fun to embrace their curiosity for worlds beyond the upper one –and, in that decade, Getou was the chosen one. And you listened.
Stories of how Getou allowed himself to be bewitched by a human crossed the most beautiful lips of the angels, phrases filled with perversity and malice roaming the corridors of the celestial world, theories and conspiracies about how Gojo was as beautiful as you being the foundation of the belief that Getou was, in fact, in love with the human.
And you listened. And you didn't forget. And you didn't forgive.
So, on that fateful day, when Getou finally managed to guide Gojo on the path of kindness, you called Getou, promises of gifts and happiness to entice the angel, to make him believe in his god, in your always so altruistic and kind nature.
And it was with the belief in this temporary goodness that Getou was corrupt.
You were jealous of Gojo. You wanted Getou all to yourself. There was no one more beautiful than you –you were god itself, your soul and figure were simply sublime. So why had Getou chosen a human? Why didn't he see you the way you saw him? Why didn't Getou want you like you wanted him? Had you neglected Getou's soul? Had you taken Getou's existence for granted and simply let the laziness of taking care of him get the best of you?
Had you, the god, failed?
No.
Impossible.
God never fails, god is always right, you were always right. It had been Getou. Getou is the one who allowed a soul as dirty as Gojo's to corrupt Getou's heart with the beauty of his figure. Getou is the one who allowed the malice of humans to entice him to give his heart to a soul other than yours.
Yes, you were certain that Getou had caused all the destruction.
And therefore you were consumed with anger. And as if devouring everything in front of you, you stained Getou's wings with the black ink you used to create missions, with the ink that Getou had offered you at the beginning of all things.
And when you saw Getou disappearing into the blackness of his wings, you swore never to forgive again. When you saw Getou screaming for justifications and explanations, you swore never to love anyone again. Seeing the black paint clinging to Getou's wings and clothes, you swore never to use the name he had given you again. Seeing Getou begging for forgiveness and falling through worlds and universes to the underworld, you swore never to remember him again.
As such, you now looked at Getou in complete shock, his black clothes and wings forcing your mind to remember all of your history, all of your destruction.
Getou had changed.
Getou was no longer an angel.
His eyes stopped adopting that shine that mesmerized you so much, only to be dyed by the burning of infinite tears that flowed every time he remembered you. Getou's delicate, ever-present smile was now non-existent, no curve on his lips showing the kindness he once possessed. And his wings... the wings that you loved making most, the wings that gave you the most pleasure creating, were now practically non-existent: all the feathers were black, some torn, others struggling to stay strong, and others letting go of Getou tiredly. Black dust beautified your carpet every time one of Getou's feathers came loose and clashed heavily with the purity of the celestial world.
Getou was different.
Getou had changed, but his stance was still immense, filling an entire room with his energy. However, what was once light and kindness were now shadows of a past shrouded in betrayal and destruction.
“I was forced to come.”
Getou crossed his arms as a small teasing smile was drawn across his handsome lips, his dirty finger pointing at Gojo.
And you faced the angel.
Yes, you swore never to remember Getou again, but the feeling of his loss corrupted your heart, a nostalgia for paradisiacal eternities forcing you to do something you had never done before, something you yourself never thought of doing: moved by guilt, guided by anguish, you stopped giving Gojo's soul a body, taking him to the heavenly world and making him the angel he was now – maybe, with Gojo's presence by your side, you could alleviate the sin that no one knew you had committed.
“We want the truth.”
Gojo had also changed.
In just two months, Gojo has changed.
His soul was still beautiful, but the white glow that the angel once emanated had now been dyed by black rays from his stay in the underworld, characteristics that were forbidden to angels.
“The truth?”
You laughed and leaned your body on the desk, arms crossed, sparkling eyes showing that you feared nothing. After all, no one knew your little secret and Getou couldn't prove the authenticity of his words.
“The truth is that the devil betrayed me.”
Getou clenched his fists to contain his anger.
What right did you have to baptize him with such an unfortunate name again? What right did you have to tarnished an entire past of hope and light only to corrupt it with a single name. A single word. Devil. It should be a forbidden word, a swear word even –but you made that word so banal, so common, so feared.
“True. I once ate an apple without telling him.”
Getou's sigh was caught by the raise of your eyebrow. Had that been sarcasm? Had Getou acquired a new trait? You didn't remember him like that. You didn't remember at all. At least, that's what you would always say.
“You know perfectly well what you did. Don’t make me look bad and don’t deceive my subordinate.”
This time it was you who sighed and looked reproachfully at your best angel. “You should know that the devil’s words are tinged with wickedness.”
“Funny,” a hollow smile gently carved itself onto Getou's lips as he approached the office's bookshelf. “You used to like my words, YN.”
“YN?” Gojo looked at you with some confusion, the look you wore being worthy of the devil himself, intense anger burning in the pearls of your eyes, your lips pursed showing that words were being kept in your throat. “Is that your name?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Getou replied at the same time as you, his voice sounding louder than yours, the delicacy and false naivety of his response encouraging Gojo to look at him. “I was the one who gave them that name. Pretty cute, isn’t it?”
Getou's laugh installed silence in that office.
Getou sounded like you remembered, he sounded like you wanted to forget.
A single laugh.
Of everything Getou could do, he had to laugh, to make that sound you loved so much, to unlock memories you swore to forget. With what audacity? With what power had Getou laughed? With what tenderness?
“What do you really want, Getou?”
“Oh?”
Getou turned his heel to face you, eternities in the underworld making itself feel it in his words, in the provocation of his smile.
“I haven’t heard that name in ages! I see that the matter is serious.”
“I don’t have all eternity.”
“Very well,” Getou walked back to you, his arm gently resting on Gojo’s shoulder as he looked into your eyes. Your eyes met for eternal moments, an infinite amount of anguish and anger running through the eyes of both of you. “I want you to tell me word for word what I did to you to get me kicked out of here.”
Getou's lips were tinged with evil, a smile and words so perverse that you, for a moment, weakened. Getou wasn't the devil for nothing. But you took your position as god and moved away from the desk, eyes always fixed on Getou's, a figure always straight and tall. And, without any thought or regret, you made your voice loud and powerful, the entire room being filled with the belief of a betrayal, with a secret about to be revealed.
“You betrayed my trust by taking an interest in him.”
A simple gesture of the head was enough for Gojo to realize that he was the one you were referring to.
Getou had told Gojo about his last mission, how he knew Gojo was an angel when his disguise was spotless. Getou told how he had been the one to guide Gojo along the paths of kindness in his first life and how he had given decades of his existence to the study of ancient humans.
So it wasn't a complete surprise that Gojo heard the mention of his soul in the conversation –what really caught him off guard was how you had used his soul in the conversation. Gojo didn't remember any betrayal in Getou's story.
“So you're telling me that I, a former angel, the angel of all angels, shouldn't have helped a lost soul? I thought that was why you called us guardian angels.”
“You let him corrupt you.”
And that's when confusion set in Getou.
All his confidence, all his provocation dissipated when you pronounced those words so boringly, as if that story had already been told for an entire lifetime.
Another sigh was lost in the office when you reflected on Getou's face, in his confusion, and pain moved your remaining words: “You let his physical beauty entice you. You let his charms move you. You fell in love with Gojo.”
“No…”
“Yes.”
“No!”
Gojo trembled at Getou's roar, darkness coming out of his wings and flooding the entire office, staining all the purity there.
Gojo moved away from Getou.
Small drops of the devil's anger painted irregular patterns on his wings –and you remained quiet, showing your position with a firm and strong gaze.
“Where did that come from? How did you think I would be interested in a mere human? I was an angel!”
“A corrupt angel.”
“Do not forget that I am your fruit. If I am corrupt, so are you.”
Silence.
Darkness.
Anguish.
“How did you fall for his charms?”
You insisted on an unfounded truth, a simple rumor that wandered further than it should have. And Getou couldn't bear to hear his existence being defamed by the very soul that created him, anger giving way to disgust, anguish turning into suffering.
“I didn't fall for anyone! Gojo was just a human who needed help. You know that. Stop being blinded by rumors without any truth! Gojo needed clarity and comfort and I provided that. I was an angel. My job was to help.”
You didn't respond.
Gojo flapped his wings frantically in an attempt to loosen the darkness from his wings, all the angel's attention focused on his own vanity, forgetting what brought him to the celestial world prematurely.
But darkness prevailed in Gojo's soft, beautiful feathers –black and sticky, Getou's centuries of suffering and discrimination were spread across the office with the aggressive flapping of Gojo's wings, latching onto every purity and naivety and corrupting them until ashes.
“We spent eternities together. You were the one who created me. Do you really think I would be corrupted?”
“And you weren’t?”
You didn't know how to shut up. Since you are god, it was easy to lose the sense of humility in a conversation.
But you forgot that you were talking to the devil and, above all, you forgot that you were talking to Getou. In a new wave of anger and despair, anguish escaped Getou, crawling through the office door, staining with perversity all the goodness beyond the comfort of those four walls.
“Because of you! Because you sent me down there!”
Getou had spat out his words with hatred and disgust, piercing screams shaking an entire kingdom, Getou's pain being known to everyone. “You created me and I was loyal to you! I was always with you. I helped you create your empire. I loved you, YN!”
Getou's confession hit you with the last gust of wind provided by Gojo.
Dyeing you with the power of destruction created by Getou for centuries in the shadows of the universe, Gojo stopped fighting, allowing the softness of his wings to gain a new shine, a new essence, a new courage as they began to descend Gojo down the universe, sending him without any warning to the underworld.
Screams of anguish and terror flooded the corridors as all your betrayal consumed the various creatures, the unveiling of god's greatest secret bringing with it all the destruction you feared, all the destruction you knew Getou would bring to the entire universe.
And, with the suddenness of a confession, the entire celestial world ceased to exist.
With eyes fixed on your figure, Getou allowed his loneliness to take over the entire upper world.
Darkness and gloom haunted every corner of what was once pure light and goodness, no creature standing still to fight Getou, no soul remaining pure to stop him from consuming and corrupting everything his anguish touched.
And you remained silent, staring at Getou as you watched him conquer your entire kingdom, his confession still resonating loudly and vividly in your mind, everything around you becoming darkness and pain, just a mere reflection of the former sovereign's heart.
For, driven by betrayal, blinded by pain, enticed by revenge, Getou conquered all worlds and kingdoms, uniting all worlds and existences in his anguish and malice without any permission or request.
As you watched him burn with black flames all your creations, all the creations of the two of you, you slowly approached Getou, the use of that strong word still ringing so loudly within you.
Getou loved you.
You had been loved.
You had been loved by Getou.
But, even before you reached Getou, even before your hand managed to touch Getou's face one last time, like in the past, Getou denied your love.
With red eyes emanating revolt, with black wings falling off and leaving him as bare as his soul, Getou simply sent you to the former underworld, now an eternal prison for those who betrayed Getou.
For in that instant, in that moment after Getou unravel the truth, he emerged every world in his eternal suffering, no forgiveness on Getou's lips to be noted as he uttered his new name like a roaring storm. In that new world of Getou, in that new universe of his, Getou would show everyone why he was called the Devil.
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typically-untypical · 3 months
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A New Beginning
AU: Flower Shop
CW: Remus typical sexual innuendos
WC: 2,186
Date: 12/15/2023
The doorbell rang on his store front and before Janus could say greet his newest customer he heard the man slam his hand on the counter his register sat on. "How much money would it cost to get a bouquet that says 'you're an insufferable git' in flowers?"
It seemed his reputation preceded him. Janus was known for his beautiful flower arrangements, but he was more known for flower arrangements that told people to fuck off without actually saying it. He didn't actually know how to use flowers to properly say things but he knew enough about some of the split meanings for flowers to come up with something convincing. Also, there were a lot of people who wanted to tell someone off, a boss, an in-law, or a friend they weren't too friendly with and so Janus had a brand. The stronger his brand, the more people bought for their unsuspecting victims. Janus had seen people choose quiet violence and he was happy to be of service if it meant a little extra money in his pocket. There was nothing wrong with someone telling their mother in law they hated her as long as she never understood the message.
"I believe that's something I can do for you, but I'm going to need a little more information. For example, who is this for? If it's for a family friend I would probably choose different flowers than something for an ex-lover." Janus looked the man up and down, sizing him up. He had wildly messy hair, like he had slept on it wet, and the strands were all dyed a variety of greens. However, despite the unkempt nature of his hair, he looked put together in a strange sort of way. There was beauty in his chaos.
"It's for my twin brother. He's not a bad guy but he also has his head stuck up his own ass. He has this play thing tonight and I want to get him something nice, but I also want to tell him to fuck off."
That was a lot of mixed and complicated feelings which made choosing flowers just a bit harder. Janus drummed his fingers on the counter as he thought about what would make the right impression. “What about Dandelions for nuisance, Candytufts for indifference, Buttercups for childishness, Meadowsweet for uselessness and since it seems like you do care enough for your brother to be getting a bouquet, Daisies for joy.”
The other man laughed a bit. “Am I that easy to read?” 
"I'm just good at my job." 
The man was blushing a bit but his smile was spread wide across his face. “Yeah, that sounds perfect. Could you do it today? I probably should have preordered this shit but I didn’t even know if I wanted to get him flowers. I thought about teasing him and getting him a bunch of fake snakes, or a bouquet of dildos but I also gotta make sure not to piss my mom off.”
“Completely fair, I had an order cancelled so I have time today. If you come back in an hour I’ll have it prepared for you.” Janus already had the boutique designed in his mind, the mix of white and yellow would look bright and cheerful but it would also feel slightly off putting in a dressing room for a play. It would probably feel exactly the way this man wanted.
“Perfect, you’re a life saver. My name’s Remus BT-dubs, and I’ll pay for this now so I don’t leave you hangin. But the price, I’m not made of money.” He was shuffling around in his pockets nonetheless and Janus realized he almost expected the man to pull out a credit card just as much as he expected a wad of unfolded dollar bills.
“I pride myself in pricing well for my skills and labor but also decently affordable.” He wrote down a number, passing it to Remus who looked it over before nodding. 
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can afford that,” He smiled, finally pulling out a wallet which somehow wasn't what Janus expected. That seemed to organized for a man of this chaos. “And you didn’t give me your name. Should I just call you pretty boy?”
‘Pretty’ Janus mouthed, eyebrow quirked as he looked at Remus. The man was lost to his own world as he attempted to pull out the money he needed and Janus watched him, head tilted to the side.
“I’m very careful about who I give my name out to, however, I’m sure if you try hard enough you’ll be able to find it.”
“Challenge accepted.” The man slammed down the cash with a brilliant grin that was also a bit twisted. Janus felt his heart jump and he straightened his shoulders, eyebrow quirked curiously. Remus just continued to smile so without another word he got together the order form and passed it over.
Remus signed, waved, and turned to leave. “See you later, Venus.” 
Venus was the name of a god. Janus was the name of a god. There was no way he had figured it out already and made a joke based off of his name in that short time, right? No, it had to be something else. Not to insult the intelligence of a man Janus just met, but he didn't know anyone who could have figured out his name in that short of a time frame and then make a joke about it, not unless they already knew. Janus sighed and shook his head, walking to the back. It didn't matter. This guy was just a guy and whether he knew Janus' name or not wouldn't affect anything. Janus didn't flirt with patrons... well, not seriously. He might flirt a little bit to get a tip, but he wasn't going to go out with anyone. Anyway, he had a boutique to make and it was going to be the best bouquet he had ever made, not for any important reason. Just to prove a point. He slipped on his bright yellow gloves and grabbed his clippers. 
An hour later, on the dot, Remus returned. He had cleaned up a bit, wearing a suit that was just slightly loose on him, hair slicked back and no longer raging against propriety. His smile was still wild, and Janus felt his chest grow tighter, a sensation he promptly forced down. “Hey Venus, did you get my flowers done?”
“I did, but why Venus?" He had spent far longer thinking about it than he would have liked to admit. When he was arranging flowers all he was left with were his thoughts and he couldn't wrap his brain about why that one. Why Venus? Janus leaned his face into his hand, elbow rested on the countertop that separated the two of them. He had to know, but he didn't want to seem desperate for the information.
"Y'know, like Venus Flytrap, because you lure them all in. I feel like you've got a dangerous streak and you're more than willing to strike if you need to." Remus smirked at Janus, something devilish that sent an imperceptible shiver down his spine. He was thankful he was good at hiding his emotions otherwise he would give away far too much to a man he just met. "And I think Venus is a bit more appropriate than Janus. After all, you are very sexually desirable."
Despite the cackle that filled his shop after Remus' comment, Janus found himself blushing more than he could control, pushing his long hair behind his ear before he once again schooled his face into nonchalance.
"Not tryin to make you uncomfortable," Remus said, "But I also meant what I said. You're pretty hot." He reached for the bouquet, and Janus almost reached out to meet him but it was too soon. They had just met each other.
"You didn't make uncomfortable, in fact you would have to do something quite outrageous to phase me." Janus looked at his nails, though his true focus was on the man just past his fingers. 
"Is that a challenge?"
Did he want it to be a challenge? Did he want to see this man again or leave him as just another customer that occasionally came around. Who was he kidding. Self delusion wasn't his forte, so he smirked and tilted his head to the side. "I do ask you don't loiter here, I do need the space for customers." Would Remus get it? Would he understand the subtlety in Janus' smile or would he be just as dense as the recipients of most of Janus' flowers.
He got it, if Remus' smile was anything to go by. He pulled the bouquet close, hoisting it into his arms. "Alright, I'll show you what I've got." He looked Janus up and down. "Let the games begin." He didn't linger after that, waving a bit with his shoulders before pushing the door open with his foot. He wasn't supposed to flirt with customers, but this was fine. It would all be fine. He was sure Remus wasn't actually going to come back, so few people did when they made declarations like that. Their never got ahold of them and they disappeared from Janus' life. 
The distraction had been nice at least.
Cleaning up the counter top, Janus looked at the door. It was closing time. 
Two weeks later Janus' bell rang and he was surprised by the voice that greeted him. "Alright Venus, what can I get for my mom, something simple and beautiful so she thinks I'm a good son. Also, maybe something that if she looked up the flowers she would actually think I liked her, cuz I kinda do but y'know, I'm not gonna say that."
For a moment Janus looked at him, mouth hanging open. He was back? Remus had come back. Janus snapped his mouth shut to think. "Tiger Lilies," He started "They mean strength, Burgundy roses for commitment, and white hydrangeas. Hydrangea's typically mean family and white specifically can mean abundance. Overall it's a sappy combination that would make most people feel like they were cared about."
Remus nodded, "Make it so flower man, and while you're at it, throw in something for yourself." He was smiling that impish smile and Janus rolled his eyes, turning around so it would be far easier to hide the curl of his own lips. He had come back. That was a first and Janus was not going to admit how many times he had thought about Remus over the past fortnight. The other man was entertaining, at least that was the easiest thing to call it. He sparked an interest in Janus and sure he wasn't supposed to flirt with customers but fuck it. He was going to play along, at least until Remus walked away.
“What could I buy from my own flower shop that I don’t already have?”
“Good point,” Remus tilted his head. “What about something that says new beginnings? Or maybe fresh starts?”
Janus smiled, “I’ve always been fond of daffodils.”
“Good, one of those, and you can bring it on our date?” Remus wiggled his eyebrows. Another surprise. That was a bit forward wasn't it? What if this guy was actually a murder? That would at least be an interesting story if he survived, right?
"Oh really?" Janus responded, leaning back, "And where exactly am I meeting you on this so called date?"
"I'll pick you up here, take you to all the sites and wonders. By the time we're done you'll be so enamored with me that you won't ever want to leave my side."
Janus rolled his eyes with a slight smirk. "That's a pretty tall order, kidnapping me from my job and expecting me to get into an unknown car."
"Oh no, we'll be taken the bus. Cars are so espensy, and I'd rather spend my money on experiences."
"And can you truly show me a good time from a bus?"
Remus chuckled. "Of course I can, I'm a good time all on my own." He finished filling out his order form, leaving the money on the counter without asking how much it was. He did, however, turn around to plow Janus a kiss. "See you tomorrow." 
Janus looked down at the money that was obviously too much for the order. He sighed and picked up the form, running his fingers along it as he read it over. It would be hard not to fall for this man, the way he smirked and smiled as if he knew exactly how things were going to turn out, or better yet, he didn't care about the outcomes. There was something else written at the bottom of the form, put outside the bounds of any box. A phone number. It was so cliche, so dumb, yet Janus found himself pulling out his phone and typing the number in. He wasn't smitten. He didn't fall that easy, but he was willing to play for a little bit. 
So he named the contact Remus, and added a little heart.
@tsspromptmonth
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purecalcium66 · 6 months
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this game is extremly fanartable for some reason??? (please don't ask me about the background i cannot explain it either, Im not a good backgrounder)
by accident i finished Infinite sooner than i expected, so here under the cut is my opinion/rant about this game, as someone who knows next to nothing about politics, racist stereotypes and all the problematic stuff the game tired to show. Just a really casual opinion, i just needed to write somewhere. Don't take it seriously if you want to read it please.
in advance: sorry for any mistakes, english is not my native language and im writing this straight from my heart so im not thinking about grammar rn
first thing: I reeeeally enjoyed this game, which after reading so many negative comments i did not expect. It has its flaws, but everything has flaws. Of course it isn't better than the first and second Bioshock, but i dont really consider it as a continuation of the first two games? Rather like a stand alone title. It's soooo entirely different, and as much as I prefer Rapture, Columbia is incredibely pretty and i had to stop every 10 seconds to take a screenshot.
Even though the story was... uh.... well, some plot holes were so wide i could fit my whole fist through them, but nevertheless it was overall, enjoyable. Im pretty sure, that even the creators got lost in that lore at some point, and im still cannot tell what exactly happend at the end...? I went crazy when i attempted to make a timeline of events. But the idea of tears and all that dimension travel was pretty interesting i think. Anyway. Plot twist was forced, and that Rapture cameo at the end was too, as much as i dont want to admit it (even though i almost pissed my pants from excitement when i saw my favourite city in its full glory again). Burial at Sea might add something to the story i guess, but from what i heard, it only adds existential dread to the fans of the series. I will see about that soon. Even if its really that bad, at least I will have a loooong snappies taking session with those georgous graphics hehe.
Also im really dissapointed in how both Comstock and Fitzroy get disappear forever 5 seconds after they appear in person, like come on, i hoped to see more of them than just some rambling over the radio (the voice acting was amazing though, as usual in Bioshock).
oh and also the boys of silence appeared for only one location? Their design is so cool! After watching the trailer I expected much more! The design was inspiring as hell.
oh also Skylines were the best thing that happened to this game imo. Amazing feeling.
and last but not least: characters! This time i did not really get attached to the characters as much as in the previous games. I liked Elizabeth and Booker, they are pretty solid, i think, and i would totally cosplay as any of them if i had someone to cosplay the other one with me. And the other characters? The Twins were really fun, Songbid was badass, and Daisy was cool too, before she appeared in person for 5 seconds. They all were not nearly as fun as the characters from the first game.
Whoever read this whole, I love you, but please do something better with your time. Stay safe guys, and remember to slap a bald head from time to time (it helps keeping your mental state well)
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Smooth Waltz - Wouldn't Mind Waltzing Again - Strictly NRC Dancing
Author Notes: I'm considering changing how I title these fics to include the name of the featured character, but I'm not sure. If you could please, comment your opinions on this. Also, Fun Fact: This is actually one of the first fics I wrote for this entire series. It also required a surprising amount of research despite the fact the dance featured is the waltz. It turns out there are a lot of differences between the varying forms of waltz. The performance in this fic was heavily inspired by  Lacey and Pasha’s Smooth Waltz to “A Daisy in December” on So You Think You Can Dance . It's a very elegant performance with lots of interesting lifts. I really recommend you watch it.Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List
Type: Fluff/dance AU/ female reader/Kind of romantic
Word count: 1519
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Azul adjusted the cuffs of his jacket’s sleeves, feigning calm when he actually felt anything but. What was prolonging his suffering by forcing him to wait? 
None other than his very own partner. You.
As per the ‘rules’ you had to wear whatever outfit Crewel had designed for you which, evidently enough, took a while to put on this time around. 
Crewel himself had to slip into the dressing room with a concerned expression on his face after you’d poked your head out with a slight frown and whispered something to the teacher. Now all that could be heard was muffled cursing about your apparently pesky outfit. 
Azul glanced up towards the clock, a small frown on his face as he fought to keep his mind spiraling any further than it already had.
He’d already gone through the steps and choreography of his waltz fifteen times before it had reached his turn to dance. The only thing that had given him pause was Ace’s… performance with the pitiable Jack Howl.
That had been a train wreck and a half which had everyone cringing in sympathy for the beastman.
The door to your dressing room creaked open, snapping Azul out of his self-comforting thoughts of how at least his performance wouldn’t be as bad as theirs had been.
 There was a soft clicking sound as you walked out, apparently in heels, with your skirt swaying gently with each step.
You smiled apologetically as you reached him in the middle of the floor, “Sorry, there was a situation with the zipper….” 
Azul almost wanted to ask, but he thought better of it as the music slowly started to filter out in the room, already setting the well-known pacing for the dance. 
1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.
“It’s not a problem,” He was proud that he was still capable of managing a slight smile and smooth bow despite his gradually increasing nerves.
Conversely, you seemed completely calm as you curtsied and accepted his slightly trembling hand, just before slipping easily into proper hold.
He had no doubt that, for your part, the waltz would be flawless. Both Crewel and Trein had been your teachers, with Crowley supposedly tapping in to help ever so often. You’d already been graded on your waltz with Vargas and you had danced perfectly.
Which meant any flubbing would come down to him and him alone. And that simple fact was enough to easily put the usually confident housewarden on edge.
The music provided a slow, steady beat to pair with the slow and steady waltz Azul gradually began to lead you through. Matching the beat, the two of you gently swayed. Bobbing up and down with the music. 
To those who watched, it almost looked like the two of you were floating across the surface of a tide’s gradual ebb and flow. Your pale, swirling skirts making up the seafoam of the imaginary water.
Azul’s mind frantically maintained its steady beat keeping, determined that he was not going to mess this up and have to take yet another dance class or face Floyd’s tutoring again. 
1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. 
At odds with his tenseness, you simply seemed to be content with following his lead, a gentle smile on your face. The perfect princess for a prince who would no doubt be far more confident and poised than Azul felt at the moment.
But Azul knew full well that he was no dancer. Changing from eight tentacles to two legs and learning to walk had been difficult enough. The mere idea of dancing was daunting at best and now that he was having to do so in front of the majority of NRC’s student body with his image on the line. Well, it was terrifying.
Perhaps that was why you were so calm though… You had nothing to lose. You’d already passed a dance class, so this performance had no bearing on your overall grade. You live in Ramshackle Dorm, of all places, and spent most of your time with Grim, so your image couldn’t really get worse.
You spun out, any easy graceful motion that left him bracing for the next part. The lift.
He could still hear Trein’s words from the lessons, “Strictly speaking, there aren’t any lifts in waltzes save for the Smooth and the Viennese waltzes variety of the dance. However, a majority voted for lifts to be allowed during your performances even if you are doing a slow waltz…. I must stress though, if you do not feel you can lift your partner with ease, do not try. Dropping your partner or injuring them in any way will result in an automatic failing grade.”
Azul was not concerned about being able to lift you. He’d been practically made of muscle his whole life, what with him being an octopus merman. Despite his small stature, that fact hadn’t changed when he’d come upon land.
 In no way were you heavy to him, and he proved to both himself and you in your hour-long choreography session that he could lift you with ease.
What Azul was concerned about was executing the lift properly. He was not naturally elegant and he knew he had two left feet so he needed as many points as possible. And that meant he had to execute the moves he could pull off so well that it would raise his overall score.
He knelt and you leaned back, both of you knowing exactly what to do, but with him not knowing exactly how smoothly this would go over.
And yet, all of his concerns had all been for nothing. You easily continued to lean yourself backwards and over his shoulder, fully trusting him to support you.
His other arm reached back, catching you as you locked your arm with his, supporting yourself to some degree as he straightened.
Nimbly, you swung your legs around as he let you slide on around him until he was simply holding you up by your arms and spinning freely with you as you faced out and away from him.
The song came to its lilting end as you touched down in a seated position on the ground and smoothly spun so you were facing him, arms outstretched towards with that same easy smile on your face. As if you had never doubted him for even a second.
In reality, the dance could end just like this. With him standing and looking down at you while you looked up at him, your hands reaching up to him in a silent request. But that wasn’t what the two of you had decided.
You had both decided to put forth your very best till the final notes of the tune faded into oblivion, leaving the two of you in silence. A dance was a performance after all, so perform you would.
He knelt, a hand reaching down to cradle your face as you did the same. Cradling his face in your hands and ending your dreamlike waltz eye-to eye.
He didn’t actually get to hear the final notes of the song since applause soon overtook the gradually quieting music. You blinked as the cheers rose, Floyd’s voice notable within the raucous noise.
Azul managed to keep himself from jerking away too quickly from raw embarrassment. Instead, opting to just lean back and continue feigning calm as he helped you back to your feet.
“Clever of you to add that lift and spin in Azul, it raised your score considerably,” Crowley had started speaking before the two of you had even finished turning to face your, or rather his, judges.
Trein nodded, “Though I am more of a proponent for sticking to the rules laid out regarding which dances have lifts and which ones don’t, I must admit that was incredibly well-executed and within the parameters of this test.”
“Well, he did perform a smooth waltz, not a slow one. So he didn’t actually break any rules,” Crewel looked pointedly at the other teacher as he spoke and received a frown from the older man.
Silence ensued as all of the staff members looked from one to another, nodding as they seemingly reached a conclusion.
Azul’s hands were trembling again he noticed, and evidently you noticed too since your hand found his. Squeezing his palm lightly as you glanced his way before you looked back towards the panel. He didn’t know if he was mortified or touched by your actions of silent comfort and reassurance.
But all of those concerns fled his mind as Crewel spoke, “Well pup. It isn’t full-marks since you flubbed a few steps, but you pass.”
Azul was proud to say he did not lose his composure, even as you turned, clapping slightly with sparkling eyes as you looked his way, “You did it, Azul!”
He met your enthusiasm with a smug grin and ‘of course I did’ attitude. But Azul could not deny that he was relieved it was over with. Just like he also couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t mind waltzing again. At least not if it was with you. 
If you would like to read more:
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anxresi · 1 year
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NEWSFLASH: Pink-Streaked Plot Device Confesses Crush To Equally ‘Perfect’ Protagonist. A Nation Of Undemanding Fans Weep.
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May I offer a few stray observations?
1. Zoe is not ‘Amazing’, Marinette. She’s just written that way. (Bonus points if you can catch the movie reference there) 
She’s obviously SUPPOSED to be because she has so many friends and loved ones, can do everything she puts her mind to SO well and hasn’t got a single fault in her oh-so-sweet personality. 
The problem with being so gosh-darn flawless though, is that you’re straight-out BORING... especially when put into the confines of a TV show where we expect the characters to be more than just insipid one-dimensional goodie-two-shoes. 
If only they had someone better to replace her, like a rebellious anti-hero... with many layers to their character and plenty of scope for growth and change... yes, that would be MUCH more interesting than a perpetually shilled Creator’s Pet...
Oops, they already got rid of her. So sorry, my mistake.
2. People should be honored to be ‘loved’ by Zoe? 
Not really. She probably ‘loves’ everyone, due to her single-note ‘nicey nice’ persona excluding her from expressing any mild distaste about anyone. Including her own newly-psychotic sister, who’s probably told her she despises her for years.
 She’d probably skip merrily into whatever-bullshit-name-Hawkmoth-has-these-days’ lair in a yellow sundress and a basket full of oatmeal cookies, give him a little kiss on the cheek before prancing out singing ‘Tomorrow’ from Annie, leaving a trail of fluffy bunny wabbits and freshly-bloomed daisies in her wake. 
Aaawww! *Retch*
3. “Adrien’s not the one I’m in love with...” OOOH HERE IT COMES! BRACE YOURSELVES...
4. ...AAANND like a deflated balloon, a broken swing and a show running out of ideas so quickly it shoves in these ‘serious’ moments that’ll never be referenced again, Zoe never explicitly says those three magic words (Alakazam, abracadabra and hocus pocus, right?)
I guess she wanted to be ‘special friends’ with Marinette the same way Rose and Juleka are. A more hopelessly unsubtle, pandering load of nonsense would be impossible to find... but it won’t stop a certain percentage of the audience from instantly shipping these two and finding this moment both ‘inspirational’ and ‘emotional’ (I can just see the hyperbolic tweets now: OMG I WEPT BUCKETS! I CAN RELATE SSSSOOOO MUCH etc)
Sorry, but I can’t get on board. I would say this was badly done whatever the sexuality of the couple, so you can kindly burn your placards screaming ‘BIGOT’ right now. The fact it’s so cynically aimed at a demographic that are often sadly overlooked in animation until recently (and naturally, afraid of some kind of Moral Panic the writers STILL can only hint at gay relationships instead of announcing them out loud) just makes the whole shameless manipulative process even worse, IMHO.
To all those who aren’t catered to by an often very heterosexual-focused cartoon industry, watch The Owl House. Give She-Ra a try. Just anything, instead of this pathetic... what was that term I heard the other day... Gaybaiting?
Yeah, that sounds about right.
(N.B If you get something positive out of this episode I am not seeking to devalue your experience or ruin your enjoyment... I am just saying, I think this is badly-done, poorly written tripe designed to earn the show brownie points when frankly it deserves none. A great example of virtue-signalling, to borrow a tired right-wing trope. You might disagree, and feel free to argue your case, but please respect my opinion by not calling me a bunch of profane names in response. Thank you.)
5. The short scene ends with Marinette letting the supposedly lovestruck Zoe down gently, with a hug and a silent promise to never speak of this again (believe me, they won’t).
 It’s a good moment for both of these favorite, endlessly-hyped characters of Thomas... Marinette gets to show her ‘human’ side and improve her already sterling reputation, whereas a lovesick Zoe takes her rejection surprisingly well.
 No tears, raised voices or even mucus bubbles... the entire emotional catharsis is over in less than 40 seconds. Guess they were too busy with more important stuff in the episode like Cheesy Chat puns, Hawkmoth’s Ham’n’Cheese and Marinette getting spotted panties from her Lucky Charm (I wish I was kidding... but I’m not. I’ve READ the leaks... *Shudder*)
.....................
So, to sum up then: another throwaway moment in an increasingly stupid show that could’ve been something special or left a lasting impact... of course, it does neither of those things. 
I mean, what were you expecting at this stage? The people who produce it are clearly not making any serious effort whatsoever, whether that be in the writing department or stopping MASSIVE spoilers from getting out and ruining the plot (although, I think they already did a pretty good job of that even before this latest round of security breaches).
So if they don’t care, why should anyone else? At least it’s fun to vent about... but time for a break now, to watch something with a bit of actual quality. Hmm... *Decides to see the Amphibia finale for like the trillionth time.*
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willowisapillow · 4 months
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☃️🍄 Goin' Down To Shroom Park 🍄☃️
Heyo, guys, gals, and non-binary pals. The most wonderful time of the year is upon us, so I wanted to start it off by drawing a winter-themed pic. And also to add it onto the list of crossovers nobody asked for but yet I deliver because I can 😌
And uh, kind of weird timing that I’m posting this considering everyone is currently harping on about Wapeach (or Walupeach or whatever the hell she’s called), so that’s neat, ig.
I'm not sure if y’all knew this about me, but I love South Park. It’s one of my favorite cartoons of all time and one of the few adult cartoons that I actually watch. I do love cartoons in general, but for some weird reason, I just could never really get into adult cartoons, despite half of the unhinged and crass stuff that I love like the Child’s Play/Chucky movies, Conker’s Bad Fur Day, and Panty & Stocking. The only ones that I really like and watch are South Park (as previously mentioned), Happy Tree Friends, Daria, and Drawn Together. Other than that, other shows don’t really interest me.
Though I have heard a lot of good things about Moral Orel, and watched a couple of reviews of it on YouTube, so maybe one day I’ll give it a watch.
Back onto the topic of South Park, I always knew about this show’s existence, but I definitely was not allowed to watch it when I was super young for… obvious reasons 💀
It wasn’t until 8th grade, which was my third and final year of middle school, was when I started really getting into the series. I came across a 107 Facts video about the series on YouTube, and clicked on it, despite knowing little to nothing about the series. And then I clicked on another video about the series. And then another. And another. And another. And another. And one thing led to another, and I eventually became hooked on the series. I was always interested in what wild adventure the boys would get themselves into, or what out-of-pocket thing Cartman would be doing this time.
It’s been a very long while since I’ve last watched the show, so my knowledge of it is pretty rusty, but I’m planning on watching it again after hearing about the whole Panderverse thing. Also I love the designs of the Panderverse girls, they slay ✨
I had a lot of fun drawing this, I just wanted to draw some of my favorite Mario characters as some of my favorite characters from the show. At first, I wanted to draw Luigi as Kyle because green hat, but I thought that Waluigi should be Kyle, and I’m probably gonna draw Luigi as Kenny in the future. Daisy would probably be Bebe, Mario is gonna be Stan, and I think we all know who our boy Warius would be lol
☃️ 💜 💚 ☃️
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my-lonely-angel · 1 year
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FUCK YEAH PANOPTICON TIME!
Firstly, this is my favourite almost season finale, like, the whole thing has so much going on (good), we get a resolution to Daisy and Basira's stuff, an actual culmination of 3 or 4 seasons of wondering about the circumstances of Gertrude's death (i love the future gertrude stuff, i do, but i'd be fine if she didn't show up in tape again after this episode), the revelation of Elias being Jonah Magnus, Martin's stuff is delt with, that moment when Elias laughs.
It's phenomenal. I just had to get out that it's phenomenal.
Now, @a-mag-a-day, the antepenultimate episode of season 4. Panopticon.
Let's go.
I think you should also know that I have my cat lying next to me :3 He's really cute.
MARTIN That's a Leitner. PETER It is! MARTIN And the, um… the blood on it? PETER (Cheerfully) That's Leitner too!
I love this part, it's very funny. You know, I will never understand those who hate Peter Lukas with the same vitriol as I hate Elias with. Peter's voice is just really nice okay. I sort of find myself... liking him. He's fun, I don't know.
NOT-SASHA So you finally decided to let me out, Jon? (Calling) Jooooon? (Beat) Who's there? (Martin's terrified breathing can be heard) Who let me out? Don't be shy… I just want to say thank you.
Martin's terrified breathing was heard. Good lord, 10/10 great terrified breathing. I'm guessing that Martin and/or Peter used their spooky, lonely powers and hid from her.
PETER Make sure everyone is too busy to follow us. They'll be fine. Probably. You could still go help them. If you insist. (Beat) (Martin lets out a resigned breath) (Satisfied) Very good. Come on.
I mean, he's still a bastard, I just don't hate him.
PETER Why'd you think this was chosen as the Institute's location when the prison closed? It's a significant site of power for the Beholding. From the tower in the centre of this room, you can see everything.
So, quick little... fun facts, I suppose. Milbank Prison was first designed by Jeremy Bentham, and it was meant to be a panopticon prison, guarded by just one person who could see anything - but not everything. None of the inmates would know if they were being watched so, Bentham theorised, the inmates would act as if they were being watched all the time. The prison guard who watched the inmates would in turn not know when they were being watched by the general public and public officials. Bentham intended for this to be used as a solution for the question:"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?", who guards the guards, who watches the watchers?
There's a whole lot more about the panopticon as a thing, but I'm actually pretty interested in it and I know I'll get dragged into a little research spiral, so instead, more about the prison itself.
The site of Milbank Prison was bought in 1799 by Jeremy Bentham, and the panopticon plan was abandoned in 1812. There was a competition for who's prison design would be built on the site, and William Williams' won, and was adapted by Thomas Hardwick. After 18 months, Hardwick resigned and was replaced with John Harvey. In 1815, Harvey was dismissed and Robert Smirke took his place, completing it in 1821. The prison closed in 1890, and demolished on and off till it was finally gone in 1903.
This all to say, that I think Jonah Magnus attempted The Watcher's Crown around 1890, because he said he moved it to London after it failed.
I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked. It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners that passed through to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man by the time I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the centre of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet. It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it. But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to. It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it, was born.
(MAG 160)
However, this does say "the dread of the prisoners that passed through" so it could have been in the 1840s and 50s, when Milbank was a holding prison for convicts going to be transported.
I just want a timeframe. But, I mean, if we did get one it would probably be contradicted to hell and back (/lh /nsrs).
PETER I don't mean the cells, Martin! I mean everything. Come on. Mind your step, this comes from an era before safety rails.
I think safety rails were first used in the 1930s, but don't quote me on that. Meaning, yes, this does probably come from an era before safety rails.
PETER Jonah Magnus! His body at least. Sitting here, watching. Binding it all together, growing ever older. If you want to take his place, well… MARTIN I'll need to kill him. PETER Yes. Don't worry, though, I brought a knife.
I feel like you're going to need to start carrying a knife if you work at the Magnus Institute. I mean, it's illegal to carry a knife of certain sizes of varieties (no switchblades!), it's also just illegal to carry any knife without good reason and "I have a high risk of death to supernatural creatures at my archiving job" probably doesn't cut it. Still, Jon bought a knife back in season 2. Jon bought an axe back in season 2, how the hell did he carry it around without raising quite a bit of suspicion?
MARTIN Where are his eyes? [A footstep] ELIAS Exactly where they've always been, Martin. (Martin gasps) Watching over my Institute.
That's such a cool line!! Also, uh:
But he remembers so clearly what he was thinking as he looked at what was left of Allan Schrieber: where are his eyes? What did they do with his eyes?
(MAG 193)
It just immediately got me thinking about that line.
BASIRA And you're sure? ARCHIVIST Yes, I'm sure it wasn't here before! BASIRA It's just that there's a lot of tapes around. ARCHIVIST And I don't keep any of them with the key to the tunnels. It's been left for me. DAISY And it says 'play me'. Kind of suspicious.
IM SORRY, THERE'S JSUT A LITTLE TAPE WITH A STICKY NOTE ON IT SAYING "PLAY ME" AND BASIRA THINKS IT COULD HAVE BEEN THERE BEFORE?? IM SORRY IM JUST DYING OVER HERE
GERTRUDE (Disparagingly) I'm not really in the mood for nostalgia, Elias. You might have noticed I'm rather busy so either shoot me or— [A gunshot rings out; Gertrude gasps and collapses] GERTRUDE Well… (gasp) there it is. (gasp) Thought it would hurt more. (Elias sighs) ELIAS Pity.
I really love that we get to hear what I thought - and to be honest, kind of hoped - was the last Gertrude tape in this context.
Like, everything's coming to a head, here and now in this episode. Peter's plan with The Extinction, whatever Elias' deal was (actually Jonah Magnus), Daisy's whole thing, and finally hearing Gertrude's death here was just amazing! Like, we take all the plot stuff, we throw it in one episode, this is our Unknowings, our Hide and Seek, our Infestation.
Then, there's The Last that's like, ok we get the emotional resolution between Jon and Martin and Martin's whole lonely thing, finally and then we're like yeah, the next one's always a bit more of a resolution, but Jonah Magnus is planning someone, ahaha Peter what did you MEAN "he got you"? WHAT???
But, focusing on Gertrude's death... I... ok, look, I'm going to grab messages I sent to my friends, because I can't explain how much I love Panopticon and Gertrude's death scene here.
Her [Gertrude's] ending in panopticon is PERFECT like, that's the End of gertrude robinson And i liked the bits we got of her in mag 161, 162, and 167 But i REALLY like just like that ending, the whole "who killed Gertrude Robinson", "what was Gertrude Robinson's whole deal", all the mysteries about Gertrude Robinson just wrapped up neatly in a noose around her neck If you're listening to tma for gertrude, PANOPTICON IS LAST Like oohhhh words cannot describe how much I LOVE the placement of the tape with gertrude's murder Panopticon is SUCH a good episode Like, The Last was our emotional resolution, The Eye Opens was our Jonny comes into our houses and fucking MURDERS us episode, but Panopticon was our original recording episode and <33 It's like!!! - Martin MAKING HIS CHOICE - THE GERTRUDE TAPE - Jon FINALLY GETTING TO SAVE MARTIN LOVE THE GAYS - Daisy giving into the hunt - LITERALLY EVERYONE AT ONCE ATTACKING THEM
Do you understand me? I hope you understand me.
ELIAS (Faux-hurt) Peter. PETER (Cold) Elias.
*deadpan* The joys of marriage.
PETER We're the same, you and I. We don't need anyone else. Watching from a distance, that's always who you've been. Haven't you enjoyed it these last few months, drifting through the Archives unseen, unjudged? You'll like it in there. I promise. MARTIN Yeah. Yeah, I think I would.
When you're numb from the cold, it feels better to be in the cold then to be warm and defrost. And if you do get warmed up, but can't stay warm for long enough it does more damage. But you've got to get to the warmth eventually. It's going to kill you out there, in the cold because it's safer than getting hurt.
Would you prefer it there? Maybe. It's numb. It doesn't sting. "But as with all [...] that promises respite, it is a trap."
ARCHIVIST Do ah… do I get a gun? BASIRA You ever fired one? ARCHIVIST (Indignant) You never taught me!
I just like the way Jon says it. Gosh, they're all having the absolute worst days, aren't they.
NOT-SASHA Hello, Jon. DAISY Oh, shit. ARCHIVIST You gotta be fucking kidding—
If there was any place for swearing it is definitely in this situation where everything that (he knows) could have gone wrong HAS gone wrong. Like, just, absolute worst time over here.
I love it when Jon just gets fed up. Like, when in 107 where he was just like "so, kidnapped. again." and the whole "how embarrassing for you". Just like, fuck yea dude, be a bit of a bastard when there are many, many, MANY things trying to kill you.
BASIRA God dammit. Jon, go, we'll keep them busy. ARCHIVIST What? No! I— BASIRA Don't argue. Just go! NOT-SASHA (Distant) Joooon? ARCHIVIST Fine. Just don't die. DAISY Go.
I think it's really nice that... i dunno, they told him to run, they risked their lives for martin, someone who they thought was "working for the enemy" or whatever. especially for basira.
MARTIN It's not him! It's not anybody. It's just me. Always has been. I... When I first came to you, I thought I had lost everything. John was dead, my mother was dead, the job I had put everything into had trapped me into spreading evil and I… I really didn't care what happened to me. I told myself I was trying to protect the others, but honestly we didn't even like each other. Maybe I just thought joining up with you would be a good way to get killed.
I really didn't appreciate Martin enough on my first listen. I was just... so caught up in the whole... Jon thing. He was my favourite since about episode 30. I liked Martin fine, I really liked Helen, but most of the characters I liked was done through the context of... loving Jon. Just really couldn't see past him.
And then... so I was talking to my friend about how Jon has adhd because I'm projecting, and it brought up that Martin's got that social anxiety & depression combo. And as I read those quotes that she collected, I realised he was right, and I realised I knew him. And from that day forth, I began to love Martin K Blackwood.
Then I listened to recollection on the bus and started crying.
So, this is my first listen where I know Martin. I'm not entirely sure what to say about this, I just... poor guy. I get him :(
And then… Jon came back, and… and suddenly I had a reason.
A WHAT?
Funny. Looks like I was right the first time. It's probably still a good way to get killed.
I'm sad. I'm sad about him. God, I just wanna give him a hug or something
ELIAS Your choice. Just make sure to leave the door open.
the fucking. the fucking. door.
(Elias lets out a long, triumphant laugh, then sighs, contented)
I want to murder him with my bare hands. He's won. He's fucking won. I am SO glad he was stabbed. HHHHhhh murder.
ELIAS (Pleased) …My you have grown. Yes. A masterpiece, isn't it?
I'm gonna kill someone and his name is Jonah Magnus.
ARCHIVIST Yeah. It is. And that's you then? Your… body?
Look, I mean, yeah evil, but also like, kinda cool though-
Also, like, he's also kind of... evil. It's complicated. I mean, he did have the whole "it is the worst place that has ever been beautiful and it should not exist" thing like-
No one is even blaming him for this, it is PURELY the piece of my brain that exists only for playing devil's advocate, which, like, USEFUL, but also, shut up!
ELIAS From out here? Impossible. ARCHIVIST You want me to follow him? ELIAS No, Jon. You want you to follow him.
That's not even bloody subtle. "You want you to follow him" says guy who LITERALLY MANIPULATED THE SITUATION SO THAT HE'D HAVE TO GO INTO THE LONELY, christ i am so FUCKING GLAD HE GOT STABBED
I can't do this, I literally cannot. Considering murder. Ben Meradith does a great job at doing a voice so punchable, and then Jonny does a great job at writing lines so stabbable, and together it's the beginning of MAG 200 :3
ELIAS (CONT’D) Very good. Are you scared, Jon? ARCHIVIST (Quietly) Yes. [The Lonely static crescendos] ELIAS Perfect.
HISS HISS KILLING AND MAIMING, FUCK HE WON
he... won.
i haven't done a relisten to season 4 before, it's just as physically painful as season 1, 2, and 3, good lord.
LIKE, OH MY GODDD AARHRHGHRGHR RIPPING AND TEARING "ARE YOU SCARED, JON" "YES" "PERFECT" FUCK YOU FUCK YOUR RITUAL FUCK THIS IM GOING TO SCREAM
oooohohhhhhh well done, you bastard, all fourteen fucking marks got. you're gonna live forever, or as close to forever as is possible.
i am so glad that in that final moment he was alive, he told jon that he didn't think jon would go through with it and jon fucking stabbed him.
THIS IS MY THING FOR 158!
so, 160 is going to be... it's going to be quite... interesting.
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cherryauts · 11 months
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Head in the Clouds | Cumulus x Male!reader
Summary: “Well,” her tail wraps around my thigh, “I’ve been needing some company. To be blunt, I was hoping you’d stay the night with me, possibly more.”
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Based on @purlty's design of Cumulus.
Word Count: 4235
Tags/Warnings: First Person, Oral(giving), anal penetration (receiving), oviposition/eggs, mommy dom, loss of virginity, docking.
Ao3 Link
Tumblr media
I stared across the room, everything blurring around me as I could only stare at her. Her long, thick hair swayed perfectly as she moved. The mask she wore fit her face perfectly and so did the suit she wore, fitting tight on her body to show all her curves. I jumped at the sudden slam of a bag on the table in front of me, my eyes shooting up to the man in front of me. 
“Wakey, wakey,” Damon chuckled. 
I sighed. “You scared the fuck out of me.” I pushed his bag aside, folding my arms on the table. He rolled his eyes, sitting in the empty chair beside me. 
“Are you still just staring at her?” He laughed.
I hummed in response.
“Come on, haven't you even talked to her yet?” He pressed.
“Well, a bit.” 
Damon stared further into me, expecting something more. “Dude. You gotta do something.”
“What makes you think anything would happen?” I sighed. “I’m just some dude. She’s a ghoul, a part of the band.”
“You won’t be getting laid with that attitude.” He rolled his eyes, opening his bag as he took a glance at her. 
This ghoul in question? It was Cumulus; she was one of the keyboardists of the band, although she also did backup vocals. I’ve heard her voice before on its own and wow, cheesy, but she did sound like an angel. We hadn’t talked much, and it felt odd to be this head over heels for her. I looked to my left, scooting over as James came to sit with us. 
“You both up to anything fun?” He asked.
“Nope-” I was cut off.
“Dipstick here still doesn’t have the balls to talk to Cumulus.” Damon leaned over to look at James.
“Oh? What a coincidence. I think I have just the thing to help.” James reached a hand down into his bag, pulling out a heart-shaped box filled with small daisies taped to the front.
I looked at the two in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Her favorite flowers are daisies.” Damon smiled.
James followed after him. “And her favorite type of chocolate is dark.” He slid the box of chocolate towards me.
I looked down at the dark red material. “Guys... I appreciate it, but really, it’s a mistake to try.” I chuckled, a sense of loss in my voice as I tried to clear my throat. 
“You never know until you try,” James reassured me. “You should try and talk to her before bed. Flowers would be fresh.” He stood back up, moving his bag over his shoulder.
“Thank you.” I smiled, playing with the ribbon tied around the flower stems. “I’ll try.”
Damon patted my back, grabbing his stuff as he stood. “Go get your dick wet.” 
Encouraging words. Sarcasm intended. It was always like being around teenagers who figured out sex words, but always entertaining. I looked up from the table, seeing Cumulus gone. She must've gone back to her room. I did want to hand this to her before it was too late. The daisies seemed freshly picked, and I didn’t know how long they could go without water.
I stood up, pushing my chair in before walking down the long halls. 
Brothers and Sisters weren’t allowed to be near the ghouls' quarters, but here I was. I tried to shake the growing feeling of anxiety, every step I took down the hall, every glance at a door to see if it was hers. Was I really going to face her? Even if I was just simply making a kind gesture; I was breaking a rule to come and do it.
I stared at the next door coming up, a sign reading ‘Cumulus’ coming into my vision. My grip tightened on the box as my hand rose to knock on the door. I hesitated. Why was it so hard to move my hand? I sighed, letting it drop as my eyes flickered around the door. I noticed some light seeping through a crack in the door; it wasn’t shut all the way.
My hand pressed against the door, slowly pushing it open. “Cumulus? It’s brother-..” A lump was caught in my throat as the door swung the rest of the way open; Cumulus stood not far from the door, in nothing but a light pink one-piece with a sheer robe wrapped loosely around her body. She turned to face me, seemingly surprised by my presence. “I’m sorry- I‌- I thought it.. well-” I tried to find what to say but stumbled over my words, my face growing increasingly red.
Her face twisted in a smile, her lips parting as she laughed. “I knew you were coming.” 
“You did?” 
“Mhm,” she hummed. “I heard you and your friends talking.” Her tail swayed from side to side in perfect rhythm as she approached me. I could feel my heart in my throat. Her tail wrapped around my waist, pulling me further into her room so she could shut the door behind me.
“I just wanted to bring these to you.” I hesitantly held out my arm, showing the box of chocolates to her. She perked up, letting out a cat-like trill. 
Cumulus took the box from me, examining the daisies on top. She had a smile on her face as her tail unwrapped from me, wagging happily. “Oh, I love these.” She put it off on her dresser.
My eyes flickered around, not exactly knowing where to look. She looked so pretty, but I didn’t want to seem rude by staring. “It’s starting to get late. I should get back before I’m caught here.” I chuckled nervously, rubbing my arm.
“Right, you’re not supposed to be here in the first place.” She smiled, her fangs poking out from her lips. “I’ll keep it to myself.”
I let out an internal sigh of relief, although I doubted she’d tell anyone either way. She’s always been so sweet. 
“Although, to keep that little secret. Maybe we could do something for each other.” She continued.
“Do what for each other?” I asked, watching her curiously as she paced around me, looking me up and down. 
“Well,” her tail wraps around my thigh, “I’ve been needing some company. To be blunt, I was hoping you’d stay the night with me, possibly more.” 
I froze in place as her tail traveled higher up my thigh, getting dangerously close to my groin. 
Cumulus circled behind me, her mouth close to my neck as she spoke. “I’d hope you join me. You are quite cute.”
“Really..?” I perked at the thought.
“Of course,” she giggled. “I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?”
I shook my head, knowing she never would. “I...I would like that then.” I gave a nervous smile.
“Perfect.” She chirped. She began to leave light kisses over my skin.
I bit down on my tongue, her chest pressing into my back. Her hands moved down to mine, leading me closer to her bed. “I have just the thing for you.” She hummed, her hands moving to suddenly start unbuttoning my shirt. She pulled it over my shoulders and down my arms, moving it to the bench at the foot of her bed.
Cumulus pulled away from my body, her hands slipping down my chest as she walked to the side of her bed. I stood in place, watching her curiously as she dug through a drawer. She turned back to face me and I saw what was in her hands; it was a collar and leash.
“I- Is that.. for me?” I stuttered over my words, staring at the equipment.
She giggled, walking back to me. Unclipping the collar, she fiddled with the leather, “I thought you would like it.” She reached up, wrapping the cool leather around my neck. It was now strapped onto my neck; but not too tight. “How’s that?”
“Good.” I mumbled with a nod, heat spreading across my face.
“Good,” Cumulus repeated. Her hand reached up to clip on the leash, and she slid her hand down it, giving a slight tug. 
I stumbled forward, catching myself right in front of her face. Her lips parted to let out a short laugh, I could see her fangs poking out. A lump sat in my throat that I tried to swallow. With both hands on the leash, she guided me further down until I was forced onto my knees. 
A smile was plastered on her face. Letting the leash hang over her wrist, she grabbed onto the fabric of her one piece. I watched with wide eyes as she pulled it over the bulk of her chest, her heavy breasts hanging free from the restrictive fabric. 
“See something you like?” She teased, swaying her body. My eyes followed the slight swing of her chest, making her laugh. 
Heat spread across my face, and I forced myself to look away. I couldn’t deny it though, her chest looked perfect in every way. “I do.”
“And what would that be, little one?”
“All of you.” I glance at her body. 
Her expression softened, and she let out a soft purr at the compliment. “Thank you.” Hums slipped from her closed lips as she continued to pull the fabric from her body until the pink suit fell to her ankles.
I took in the rest of her naked body, getting a full; yet close view. I could see the fur that lined over her skin. The white patterns of cloud-like shapes tainted random spots of her gray fur. Her heart-shaped tail coiled up behind her as my eyes traveled down ‌to the trail under her navel, spreading further into a soft-looking mound of fur. I tried to hide the steadily growing bulge in my pants with both hands, quickly looking back up at her face.
She tossed her clothing to the side, wrapping the leather around her hand to keep a tight hold. With a quick tug, I was forced forward. My heart pounded in my throat. My face was pressed up into her muff. I didn’t know what to do- I mean; I knew what to do, but what if I did it wrong? Do I have to ask her? Wait for her to tell me-? 
“Use your tongue.” She spoke, breaking me from my thoughts.
I gave a nod that only pushed my nose up into her clit, making her shiver. My head rolled back to let my tongue hang from my mouth. I pressed between her folds, letting my tongue explore her wet heat. A tinge of sweetness hit my taste buds. She tasted so good. I run my tongue up to her clit, feeling it swell and throb in arousal. 
Her hand moved down to run her clawed fingers through my hair. “Mm, just like that.” She reassured me.
I continued the treatment, letting my eyes close. I took her clit between my lips, suckling softly. The way her bud throbbed in my mouth mixed with her sweet taste was driving me insane; I needed more. Without a command or another tug of the leash; I bowed my head down, diving my tongue as deep as I could into her. 
A cat-like trill escaped her throat, the sudden pleasure causing her to grip onto the leash, keeping my face pressed into her. Her arousal spread across my face, dripping down my chin. 
I thrust my tongue as quickly as I could in and out of her, feeling her claws poke at my scalp in an attempt to cling to my hair. Her hips rocked back in rhythm with my own movements as I desperately licked up whatever taste of her I could get; swallowing down her arousal like it was the only water in a desert. 
She quivered above me, having to lean back against to bed to keep herself steady. “S...So eager... Good boy..” She stuttered out between moans. With a grip on my hair, she guided my face back from her hole and to her throbbing clit.
I eagerly took the swollen bud back into my mouth, working my tongue around the stiff flesh to find where made her squirm the most. A flick of my tongue across her tip sent her hips bucking and a moanful cry from her lips. I took turns sucking along her clit and flicking my tongue on her sensitive bud, making sure not to leave any place untouched. 
“Fuck- Keep going baby,” she cried, “I’m so close!”
My eyes peeked open to look at the sight above me, wanting to watch her as she came. I sucked along her clit before flicking my tongue side to side on it. 
“Hahh! Yes yes yes!” She repeated, cursing under her breath.
Her clit throbbed heavily on my tongue and her hips spasmed, bucking back into my mouth. I watched her eyes roll back and her mouth hang open as she let out a cry of bliss; cum painting over my mouth and chin as her orgasm rolled over her. I greedily swallowed down whatever hit my mouth, swiping my tongue along her folds to gather what I had missed.
Pulling away, I sat back on my knees. I licked up what I could from around my mouth, looking up at Cumulus. Her eyes were closed as she sat back on the bed, gathering her breath. Her body twitched now and then, recovering from the orgasm. I eagerly looked up at her as her eyes peeked open to look back at me.
A smile spread across her face. “You did very well.” She hummed. Her fingers soaked through strands of my hair, massaging at my scalp. It felt so nice, it was almost like I could start purring. “Let’s get you on the bed now,” she continued; using the leash to guide me up onto my feet. 
With not-so-shaky legs, she stood. I looked down to watch her hands; she unbuckled my belt, pulling it from the straps. Letting it fall where my shirt lay, she unbuttoned my pants. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, the tight feeling on my erection now gone as my pants were removed.
She stared down at the bulge in my briefs, heat spreading to my face. Why was she just staring? Was I not big enough for her taste? Anxiety crept up on me and I shifted in place, pressing my legs together.
“Quite a nice size for someone so small.” She suddenly spoke, taking the bulk of my bulge in her hand through the fabric. “Hefty too,” she giggled, pushing her palm against it.
“I am..?” I almost whispered.
She hummed in agreement, “Size isn’t an issue to me, little one. You did well enough with your tongue.” 
“Thank you... Mommy.” I froze as the word slipped from my mouth. “I’m sorry- I..” I tripped over my words, my face bright red as I tried to talk my way out of what just came from me.
She looked at me blankly before letting out a laugh, “I’m sorry, just, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” She covered her mouth in an attempt to stop her giggle fit. “If you really want to call me mommy, it’s not an issue to me.” 
I nodded, trying to wipe the embarrassing heat off my face.
“Now, where was I?” She cooed. With my attention back to her; she played at the waistband of my briefs, pulling them down to fall to my ankles.
I let out a slight hiss as my cock sprang free, slapping up against my stomach as it throbbed and twitched.
“Oh my.” She giggled, getting a good look at my size.
I was guided onto the bed, sitting beside her with her hand back on my cock. Her hands were soft over my stiff length, although a rougher texture rubbed into my sensitive flesh; making my breath hitch. It had only now occurred to me that her hands were laced with textured paddings, like the paws of a cat or dog. The mix of textures felt odd; but so good.
She sat up onto her knees, moving her other hand to my chest and pushing me down. Her hands moved to each side of my thighs, pushing my legs open. I stared down in anticipation of what she was doing, a whine escaping my lips. She giggled, shifting closed until I felt the heat and wetness of her pussy right over me. My cock eagerly twitched and I let out another pitiful whine in desperation.
Her tongue clicked at my impatience, but gave into what I wanted; pressing her wet folds down into me. She gave a purr, rolling her hips to spread her arousal. I couldn’t describe the feeling, it was so good on me, so much better than just a hand or a toy. 
“Mommy~” I whined, my hips bucking back into her. So close to slipping in, fuck I needed it. Her hips stilled, lifting above me. I panted, looking up at her quickly. 
She only tsked, shaking her head teasingly, “I didn’t say you could move, did I?”
I chew on the inside of my lip, “No..?” I answered hesitantly. 
“That’s right.” She cooed, only to press herself back on my cock. I suddenly felt something push into me, earning a sigh of relief from Cumulus. I watched with wide eyes as a long phallic-looking shape expressed from her cunt. It curved up in excitement, leaking a transparent liquid from its widened tip. My head tilted, watching the slimy flesh in curiosity. 
Her hand moved onto mine, guiding my fingers around it. “No need to be afraid of an ovicock, dear.” She spoke.
“Ovi.. cock?” I repeated.
“Mhm. It’s how we lay our eggs. Mostly infertile.” She giggled, lightly stroking my hand on her cock. ��It makes a great filling.” She continued.
Wait, filling? My eyes traced back up to her face, looking into her lust-filled eyes. Was she going to fuck me? Wasn’t that supposed to be my job -- I let out a gasp; watching as her opened tip teased along mine.
Cumulus moaned above me, sliding my cock into the hole of hers. It fit almost perfectly, not stretching her out but filling her hole just right. She sat up on her knees to lean over me slightly. With a hand on her ovicock, she rocked her hips forward. My cock now covered in her arousal, slid with ease in and out of her.
The more she slid down, the tighter her walls were around me, making me buck my hips up with a moan. She let out a hiss, pulling back. My cock flopped back onto my stomach, dripping in slime that tainted my skin below.
“I can’t take this anymore.” She spoke. Grabbing onto my thighs again; she pushed them up and open, moving a pillow underneath my hips.
“Ah, wait! Please..” I looked up at her with watery eyes.
She quickly stopped, afraid she did something wrong. “I’m sorry, did I..?”
“No, no. I just.. haven’t had anything that big in me before.” I reassured her despite my red face and wet eyes, embarrassed by the situation at hand.
She relaxed from my words, hovering over me to rest both hands on my cheeks. Her thumbs wiped away my tears and her fingers coarse through my hair. “It’s okay to be nervous,” she cooed. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”
“I want it though.” I quickly replied.
Her face softened, pulling away to sit on her knees. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”
I nodded, shifting on the bed to lay flat; aside from the pillow that kept my hips up. Her hands trailed over my thighs, helping spread them open once more. The soft feeling of her fur and pads traced my sides and chest, exploring my body. Barely noticing the feeling of her ovicock rubbing against my hole.
A soft whimper escaped my lips, feeling the sudden stretch as she coaxed her tip into me. Her cock was wet enough to act as lube itself, leaving no rough feeling inside of me as she continued to slowly push in. I let out a hiss as the bulk of her cock pushed through.
“It’s okay. You’re doing so well.” She cooed; moving a free hand to caress my cheek. 
“Mommy~” with a whine, I held onto her arm and took deep breaths. It felt so long until she finally stopped, managing to push her whole length into me. She was so deep, it made my body shiver and twitch every time I shifted; trying not to gasp at the feeling of her inside of me. 
“Look at that, you took it all like a good boy.” 
I pant, looking up at her with glassy eyes. “Feels so good..” I mumbled. My eyes slip shut, relaxing into the feeling of her hand rubbing my chest. I gave her a nod once I was ready, feeling the pain and discomfort subside as I grew used to her size. 
Her hips fell back, only to rock forward again; slowly thrusting in and out of me. She slid her hands down my body, grasping onto my hips for balance as she moved, light moans coming from her lips. 
My body lightly bounced at the thrusts of her hips gaining speed. My cock bobbed over my stomach, leaking precum down my length and over my skin. Our pants and moans filled the room around us, along with the faint sound of her arousal-coated cock sliding in and out of me. I could feel the slimy liquid spread around my hole, her rougher thrusts sending it everywhere on us.
“Shit!” I whimpered. My hand darted down to grab at her wrist. Cumulus rocked forward, pushing my legs up with her hips. Her hips slamming into mine now echoed throughout the room. The new angle allowed her to slam hard down into me. “Fuck fuck fuck..”
“Mmm, you’re so tight for me baby.” She panted. Her lips pressed against mine, leaving us in a sloppy kiss of mixed saliva, curses, and moans.
My legs hooked up to wrap around her waist, keeping her body locked into me. Her stomach rubbed against my cock in just the right way; almost sending me over the edge. I pulled from her lips to moan loudly, my body shivering. My head lay back and my mouth hang open; feeling a bundle of knots forming in my abdomen, building on pleasure.
“Fuck! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!” I chanted, letting out an almost high-pitched cry as that pressure burst; an orgasm washing over me. My cock twitched and throbbed into her stomach, splattering cum between us both. My legs shook and twisted, holding onto her tighter. Whimpers and cries escaped my mouth, tears pricking my eyes.
Her hard, deep thrusts continued through my orgasm. I could feel the twitch and throbs of her inside of me and I knew she could be close too. Her loud moans took over mine, slamming as deep as she could into me. Her ovicock throbbed, releasing a hot seed into me.
“Fuck..” I sighed, the feeling only seeming to make me cum more. 
Rough purrs escaped her throat, her head nudging into mine affectionately. My body jolts, feeling an odd sensation from her cock in me. A pulsing feeling came from her cock; she only hummed, seeming to enjoy the feeling. “Always loved this part.” She giggled.
It took me a second to put two and two together; the eggs. My face grew red with heat, burying it into her neck to hide the embarrassment.
Cumulus laughed lightly, stroking my hair. “No need to be embarrassed,” she cooed. “We’ll get you nice and full, then clean up, hm?”
I nodded into her. One by one, eggs slid down her ovicock until they laid inside of me. I couldn’t even keep count of how many there were, the feeling was too good. I let out a pitiful whine, feeling dizzy and just.. off. Was this normal?
She wiped the tears from my eyes, shushing me as whimpers escaped. With a faint pop, she slid out, her cock retracting back into her sheath. She shifted to grab something from her bedside drawer; it was a plug. I weakly spread my legs for her, letting her pop it in, keeping me full of her eggs and cum. 
“All better.” She spoke softly. “I’m going to get the bath ready. You can rest.”
I just nodded, letting my body fully relax back on the bed. She gently climbed off, disappearing into a side door that I presumed to be the bathroom. Running water hit my ears, confirming it had been the bathroom and she was filling the tub with water. I let out a sigh, letting my eyes close. 
“Baths ready, little one,” Cumulus spoke, running her hands through my hair. I gave a grumbled whine, shifting to roll over. She giggled, “Come on, it’s nice and warm.” Her hands moved down to my arm, helping me sit up and stand. She guided me to the bathroom and into the warm bath water.
Grabbing a cloth, she soaked it in the water and began washing me down. I let my eyes close, just enjoying the feeling of her care. I think I’ll be coming back here again.
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standard-muse · 2 years
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Little Women 2022 | Alcott Comparison
It’s really interesting to see the 2022 Korean adaptation of Little Women and how it’s approaching this story in such a fresh and captivating way. There are a lot of obvious changes to the narrative but I wanted to focus on the points of the story that we’ve seen so far that do parallel the original, in order to gauge where the story might be heading.
In this case, let’s talk about the Meg/John dynamic.
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In-joo and Do-il are representing the characters of Meg March and John Brook. In Louisa May Alcott’s original story, Meg and John get married, have two children, and work through the ups and downs of married life – particularly when it comes to finances. In the book Meg has a desire to own fine things and be able to keep up with her wealthier friends. Saying to John at one point, “I don’t mean to waste your money…I can’t resist them when I see Sallie buying all she wants, and pitying me because I don’t. I try to be contented, but it’s hard, and I’m tired of being poor.” (Chapter 28) Additionally, Meg’s expenses keep John from being able to buy a new winter coat that he desperately needs. Meg sees the benefits of finances differently than her family does and, albeit temporarily, she longs to live in that world. She goes to the fancy party and, too Laurie’s dismay, is flirting with some of the richer men and playing the part of a women with wealth by using the name Daisy. Even if it’s only for a night, she wants to indulge in that lifestyle before giving it up to later be with John in poverty.
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We see these moments paralleled in the 2022 version. In-joo is tired of being poor and longs to have the things that her wealthier friend has (Hwa-young, who is playing the role of Sallie), who in turn pities her and offers to buy her things instead (the orchid shoes, for starters). In-joo sees the benefits of money and how having it can protect and save her family. She longs for the security of finances and the opportunities it can bring much like Meg does. Also, one of the first things she buys with her money is a new winter coat, a nice reference to John Brooke in the original. When In-joo receives the money from Hwa-young, she also takes a turn playing a part, mainly with Hyo-rin’s mom – but like with Daisy, it’s a fleeting moment before it’s gone.
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Now for Do-il. It’s interesting that he is first introduced as somebody who is pretty avaricious and who’s main focus is centered on money. As is with his book counterpart, John Brooke, who spends a fair amount of time dealing with money-related issues throughout the story, Do-il’s main concerns are also centered around money and finances. Also like his book counterpart, Do-il spends a lot of time teaching In-joo and providing information for her in the form of the ledgers, IOS, and figuring out what Hwa-young was doing in Singapore. And lastly, we see Do-il step up to protect In-joo much like John Brooke steps in to protect Meg many times.
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Do-il is a mystery, and his moral compass, motive, and past are all clouded in shadows. But we might be able to shed some light on him if this story does in fact follow Alcott’s original design.
That being said, stepping into the realm of conjecture and hypothesis, Do-il has some serious potential that shouldn’t be ignored – particularly for anybody questioning a romantic tie between him and In-joo.
First, in the book John Brooke is the first to fall for Meg. He holds on to her glove in secret as a sweet keepsake and quietly bids his time until her affections are returned. In the book he says, “I won’t trouble you, I only want to know if you care for me a little, Meg. I love you so much, dear.” (Chapter 23). One theory in the Do-il/In-Joo romance camp is that because Hwa-young and Do-il were good friends she could have spoken a lot about In-joo during their time together. Do-il, therefore, could already have had developed feelings for In-joo long before her met her just from what he had heard. We even get a nod towards this when they’re eating together.
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Another theory in that same camp is how this story seems to be inverting some of the major plot points of original (e.g. the Mrs. Oh being selfish, stealing the money and running away vs Mrs. March being everything selfless and being a walking moral compass). An inversion of Meg and John’s struggles with having no money by having In-joo and Do-il’s struggles revolving around having TOO MUCH money is a clever spin on the tale and something that wouldn’t be surprising to see.
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Since In-joo and Do-il have been paired together since the first episode and have already entered into a partnership with one another with the ledgers, their connection to one other can’t be ignored or downplayed. And considering the original text by Alcott, it would be hard-pressed (although not impossible) to have these characters completely avoid a romantic subplot as their relationship will need to have some sort of arc to it. It could remain completely platonic, of course, but given that In-joo has already been married once and has mentioned it several times, In-joo’s love life has already been included in the story and is part of her character design. It would seem the natural conclusion to draw out this thread in her character, especially if In-joo and Do-il are to represent the Meg/John dynamic.
Also, given how fundamental the romantic relationships are to Alcott’s original story and how each of those relationships reflect the character growth and overall themes of the book, it would be a surprise if this version excluded all romantic subplots.
Whether or not Do-il is actually a shady avaricious narcissist who will betray everybody and turn out to be the Big Bad remains to be seen. Currently, there seem to be other characters that have more going for them in that regard, but ultimately it’ll just come down to how far the writer of this series wants to stray from the original narrative. Clearly there are a lot of secrets surrounding Do-il and being reproachful and apprehensive of his character is only natural. But given the number of other twists and turns in this plot it would make sense to have a steady baseline character or plot point for the audience to fall back on (like the romance between Vincenzo and Cha-young in Vincenzo). A trustworthy friend in Do-il, or a romantic subplot with him and In-joo would easily fulfill that need and would also parallel Alcott’s original story.
That being said – I am fully prepared to throw all this out the window because Do-il is shady as heck and could very well be the mastermind behind all this.
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theartofdreaming1 · 7 months
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For the weird writing asks and sorry I'm on mobile on the train, can't copy the questions right now but:
4, 15, 16, 35 aaaand 40
Sorry <3
4. What's a word that makes you absolutely feral?
Hmh, I don't know if I really have a specific word like that (or at least can't remember on the spot), but I guess the most recent time I felt like I'd go feral over a word was while watching episode 2 of Pushing Daisies, when we see Ned getting dumped at boarding school and his father's saying good-bye and we get this absolutely cutting narration:
"I'll be back," he lied.
I think I've never felt this strongly over the use of such a simple word as 'to lie" before, but this simple phrase (and word) really felt like a punch to the gut, damn.
15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?
No, I can't bring myself to write in books; I once just wrote my name on the very first empty page of a book (I think in pencil, even?) and I have felt absolutely horrible about it ever since (it doesn't help that my handwriting is atrocious). If I want to mark some phrases/passages from a book I'm reading, I write them down on a blank index card (complete with page citation) and put that in the book or I use some tiny sticky-notes 😅
The only exception I've ever made without a guilty conscience was writing the inscription of the ring from LOTR into my edition of Heinrich von Kleist's "Die Verlobung in St. Domingo" ("The Betrothal in Santo Domingo"), which I had to read for school xD
Similarly, I can't even fathom dog-earing any book on purpose! I try to keep my books as pristine as possible, even doing my darndest not to open my unabridged edition of Les Miserablés too widely, lest the spine gets more cracks and becomes even uglier (a very futile endeavour, since it is one of those boring black penguin paperback editions and the book is over a 1000 pages thick and you're inevitably gonna get some cracks in the spine, but I just cannot help myself)
And since I don't like taking baths and don't have a tub in my apartment, I don't read in the bath (I also would be terrified of getting my poor book wet).
But at this point in my life I'm mature enough to take a live-and-let-live stance on these things, so I won't judge people who do this to their books too harshly ;) (I can definitely see the appeal of handwritten margins in books, although the concept of dog-earing a book still makes me wince just thinking of it- but as long as it's not my book, it's fine)
16. What's the weirdest thing you've ever used as a bookmark?
Boy, I'll use anything at hand as a bookmark (although now that I have gotten some of the bookmarks I designed myself printed, I usually have something at hand) and since I'm quite messy, an improvised bookmark can be anything - grocery receipts, return receipts from library books, other books, whole comic book issues, empty envelopes, you name it 😅
35. What's your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?
Rules, what are rules? 😉🔨 Honestly, I don't think I consciously follow any rules when I sit down to write my little stories - I just bang my head against the keyboard until the words sound like the story that is lodged somewhere inside my brain;- I once had to take a "Writing" exam in which we had to write a strictly structured 250-300 word pro-contra-essay and it was absolute agony - I like my creative writing to be joyful and free (once it gets past my crippling perfectionism and debilitating procrastination, that is ;)
40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.
I'm always very fond of Emily Dickinson's "Hope":
“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.
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a-mag-a-day · 1 year
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MAG 91 - baking apple pie
After being all brave and sassy with Jude Jon definitely has learned a lesson or two about meeting up with avatars, although this one seems a lot nicer. Offering him a cup of tea instead laughing at him and threatening him.
JON "I… Where did you get that scar?" [LONG SIGH AS THE SOUND OF RUSHING AIR RISES] MIKE "And I was trying so hard to be polite." - Well, that lesson wasn't enough though…
MIKE "The air… it doesn’t… leave your lungs like you expect it to." - I hate falling, so I never did anything like bungee or something like that… But sometimes when it's super stormy outside it feels like the storm blows the air you want to breath out of your mouth. Terrible feeling.
"Not unless that’s what happened to your hand, but I’m guessing that burn came from sticking it somewhere it wasn’t wanted. And you still didn’t learn." - Yeah, even Crew knows it..
"The part that always bothered me was how I didn’t remember it. Not really." - Ohhh, does the "not really" flood already slowly start here? I know in S4 there's sooo many of them, and we heard it in S1 and 2 also a couple of times.
"Did you know that Lichtenberg figures are fractals?" / "The thing that chased me, you see, it was an arcing branch of the Twisting Deceit, taken shape to follow me. But the shape it had taken more rightly belonged to the sky. To those same vast unknowable heights that blessed book wanted to take me." - Another one of those edges, a phenomenon of the sky bleeds into It Is Not What It Is.
Daisy is so brutal… Kicking Crew a few additional times just to be sure… And we see some of her apologist nature. Tricking herself into only hunting monsters.
JON "So… so what now? You kill us? …" DAISY "You think he’s going to save you?" JON "What? What, no –" [GUNSHOT] [JON CRIES OUT] - again, Daisy. Is. So. Brutal. She just shot a dude right in front of Jon. Because it's fun to see his fear…
DAISY "One packet cigarettes, Silk Cut. One lighter, gold, spiderweb design. Hm." - Oh hi there you sneaky little thing! Also Jon totally smoking again…
God, hearing Jon gurgling and whimpering is so hard to listen to.
DAISY "You been following me, Basira?" - Basira is Daisy's soft spot… How her voice wavers here.
DAISY "You don’t know what he is. You don’t know what it’s like to have your secrets pulled out like teeth, just because he asked?" - On my first listen I didn't understand what all this "stop asking question" and then they just answer them as all about. This is when it finally clicked.
JON "I thi- I thi- I think it was Elias." DAISY "Yeah. Well he’s on my list too." - Lol, that tone in Daisy's voice.
JON "What about Mike?" DAISY "Who? Oh. Grab a spade." - Can you imagine, fours days ago Jon got his palm completely burned and now this murder cop tells him to dig a hole to bury the person she just shot in front of him or she'll shoot him too if she's merciful or cut his throat if she's not.
Godd poor guy
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To all: What are your thoughts about Mortimer, Riley, Nick, and Daisy? Anything that you like and dislike about them?
"Aha! I told you we'd get an ask!
"Wait- We actually did?!-"
"Anyways! To answer your question;"
"Mortimer is a manipulative asshole, the very opposite of his show counterpart. None of us really like him that much, he's way too controlling"
"But, he is good fellow to chat to, sometimes..."
"You CHAT WITH HIM?!?!"
"Mostly during tea time, he offered to have a talk with me in his office, a few minutes after I failed my first test run"
"..So that explains why we cant find you during those times..."
"Dude, you gotta have balls of steel to that-"
"W-What do you guys chat...chat about?"
"...Bri'ish stuff-"
"Moving on!"
"Riley is an obvious one, she's a bitch and a huge jerk, aswell as a very strict teacher. Most of us arent really well liked by her, except for Bonnie"
"She's sort of a me-mentor figure to me, a sadistic and...and twisted one to be exact-"
"Its probably because Im the only one who obeys her co-commands withought protest...and also because Im not...not stupid-"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing!-"
"Tho I will say, she's fun to annoy and pull pranks on"
"Now that I agree"
"Nick is a cold blooded maniac, aswell as an overly dramatic theater kid, probably the least threatening of the Handeemen-"
"He's a pathetic, shitty person, who cant seem to know what true talent is, even if it was displayed RIGHT infront of him!"
"Are you still salty about him ca-calling your...your design utter trash?"
"NO!"
"...maybe-"
"Same thing with Riley, tho, we once teamed up with eachother to pull a big prank on his rival as somekind of revenge shit. But then, he betrayed us right after we get caught. He did let me have some of his stolen spray paint, so I guess he's sort of a cool??"
"I heard a rumor that he was hidding secret portraits in his room, not sure what they are but its apparently something very embarrasing"
"Im hoping its just poorly drawn stickfigure shits or something-"
"What else could it be?"
"You dont want to know"
*Ehem*
"Moving on!"
"Daisy is probably the only Handeemen we like the most, although, her danger mode is also the scariest.."
"Pro tip; Do Not swear anywhere near her, Radley learned the hard way-"
"I can still taste the soap in my mouth..."
*Shudders*
"She's re-real nice, abit...abit of a mother hen, but nice!"
"She taught us how to bake a pie once, but, we were shortly banned from the kitchen when the stove caught on fire-"
"Not my fault no one told me shit about greese fire and water not mixing well!"
"Didnt...didnt Riley taught us about that during one of her ca-classes?"
"Not my fault her classes were too fucking boring for me to give a fuck!"
"And you wonder why she hates you so...so much.."
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missamyrisa2 · 10 months
Text
Link and the Stylish Woman
I don't usually do fan fiction but a long time ago I really really wanted there to be a tickle story with Link and the Stylish Woman ~ sooo I wrote one, and I was just thinking about it when I made that Tears of the Kingdom post~
Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, Link’s first thought when he gained the ability to sink into the walls was that he’d be able to explore Kakariko village unfettered. Everyone dreams of invisibility to assuage their most voyeuristic desires, and this was certainly the best alternative. After perusing the curiously inaccessible back section of the vacant home adjacent to the elder’s, Link cast his eyes on a home to the south.
The house was locked up tight, which was unusual for this village, where people are free to roam and wander wherever they please. In a small town where everyone knew each other and there were no closed passages, a locked door meant someone was keeping a secret. With all that had transpired lately in the kingdom, Link had a plausible belief that a servant of darkness had commandeered the small home as a base of its vile machinations.
While Link couldn’t find a crack in the home’s foundation in which to gain access, he did recall that its counterpart in Lorule was wide open. Journeying into Hyrule’s dark twin, Link made haste through the decrepit village and smiled wide at what he found. A dark rainbow kaleidoscope billowed forth from a fragment of the wall, indicating a fissure between the worlds. Without hesitation, he flattened into the wall and dashed into the portal.
Unbeknownst to distant people who may have been facilitating Link’s adventures by way of electronic remote controls, traversing between worlds and even into walls left our plucky little hero nearly blind. By merging his molecular structure with the walls, he saw nothing but darkness and an occasional flash of light, which crept in by way of pores in the building material. Only by timing his movements and estimating how far he had to push was Link able to safely navigate from a two-dimensional plane to the third.
This lack of vision would well prove perilous as he plunged into the link between worlds [sorry]. As the piercing light of Hyrule again filled his eyes, Link felt his nose invaded by scents of perfume and fabric. Stumbling blindly, he emerged into a well-furnished girl’s wardrobe. Before he could register what was happening, he heard a squealing pixie-like voice.
“EEEEE! How..how in Hyrule did you get in here? My door is locked, Link!”
Of course, Link thought. Small as the village may be, he somehow forgot this was the home of an especially stylish woman. Known for her fashion sense, she would spend a majority of her free hours painstakingly selecting her outfit, preparing it in a perfect way, and presenting herself for a very short time in the town square before heading back to lock herself away once more.
“Well, never mind. I’m actually glad you popped in…”
Link felt like he was wrestling with some billowing ghost. He couldn’t seem to steady himself, and whenever he grasped at the wall, he found himself falling back into the wardrobe again. The sound of clinking metal hangers filled his ears as he flailed about. He called out to the woman, but she giggled as though she hadn’t heard a thing.
“I was just admiring my new dress!”
Link caught a glimpse of her curvy form between curtains of rustling dresses as she walked daintily towards him. She wore an elegant strapless turquoise dress, which was floor-length and hemmed with flowery designs. Matching rose-colored bracelets adorned her wrists, and two freshly plucked daisies were planted in her long flowing blonde hair. As Link found himself pulled backwards, he saw a glimpse of her cute fluffy face. Matching turquoise eye shadow had been freshly applied, as was a glistening coat of pink lip gloss on her lovely lips.
“What do you think of it? Glamorous isn’t it? Oh, you’re too kind!”
She giggled once more. Link called out for help, as he still could not escape the invisible force. Some might wonder how Link could possibly flatten his form and return unscathed time and time again. It was a defilement of physics, plain and simple. And as it turns out, physics itself was none too pleased about a young man constantly breaking its rules. What happened in the stylish woman’s house was physically impossible, but sometimes when you corrupt the universe, it will corrupt you right back.
As Link fell backwards, his shield and sword were caught on a passing hangar. He grasped for them, but found they were already being shuffled away, just as his tunic became ensnared in a series of petticoats. With an audible pinging sound, Link’s belt and equipment popped off his body, and he felt a tightness wrapping around his legs. A swishing sound filled his ears as became enveloped in the wardrobe. With a tilt of the closet pole, the hangars screeched as every item in the woman’s closet converged on him.
The stylish woman chuckled at the pile of trembling clothes, strolling over to watch intently. “Very sweet of you. Come on out so I can give you a reward!”
Link shouted in protest, but found he couldn’t find a way out of this mess. Silky fabrics caressed his body relentlessly as he was passed around into various clothing items. When he suddenly found himself looking at the big beautiful woman, he couldn’t help but notice how soft his body felt. She looked him up and down and laughed.
“Oh we’re playing dress up? How fun! You look so cute in that outfit!” The stylish woman lifted Link up effortlessly and swung him around the room, holding him tight to her bosomy body. After giving him a peck on the cheek for being so sweet, she set him down.
Link glanced down and cocked his head back in a shriek of shock. His trademark green tunic and brown boots were gone. Now he wore an ivory sheath dress over a silk slip, which stopped just above his knees. Looking at how much of his thin toned legs were exposed, Link also realized he had somehow been relieved of his body hair. Following his smooth legs down, he gasped at how his boots had changed from rugged and brown to shiny and black high-heeled with glistening silvertone buckles.
He carefully touched his new outfit, fingers drawing over the black accent belt around the natural waist of the dress, and the lacy flower-like trim that ran down each dress strap and along the scoop. The outfit was containing his body in such a way that it even looked like he had a small bit of cleavage. His heels clomped awkwardly against the hardwood floor as he stepped back, preparing to make a reckless dash back towards the wall.
But again, physics were not on Link’s side today. He stumbled backwards and would have crashed into the floor, had the stylish woman not caught him. Easily lifting him up again, she scooped Link up by placing one arm behind his shoulders, and another under his knees. She bounced him playfully and propped his back up.
“Silly. You can’t run in those things! Here, let me doll you up!” She giggled gleefully and tossed him onto the nearby tree-stump chair. Before he could register what was happening, she had tucked his light brown hair back with a matching black and white headband, and was joyously applying makeup to his face. She coated his eyelashes with a light coat of mascara, spreading the liquid with the utmost care, then merrily stroked his cheeks with a pink blush. Link stifled a giggle at the soft tool grazing his skin relentlessly. He grimaced at the supple brush dusting his face, then struggled as she grabbed his chin and began rolling on a clear lip gloss. As she stepped back to admire her work, Link tested his lips, tasting the cushiony gloss.
He moved to stand up, but she easily nudged him back onto the chair. “Hold your horses, cutie pie. I’m not done yet! You need accessorizing.” She proceeded to slide a silver armlet up his left arm, and snap a shiny black metal bracelet around his right wrist. Next, she draped a silver necklace over his neck, which bore a large star-shaped charm. Lastly, she felt his ears, smiled at the fact that he was already pierced, and set in place a pair of silver teardrop earrings.
Barely able to contain her excitement, the stylish woman squealed and picked up a mirror and let Link see his transformation. He barely recognized the cute girl sitting in the reflection, and thought what he was seeing couldn’t possibly be real. That is until she reached out and poked him in the ribs, and he saw himself squirm and squeak.
“You’re so pretty now! Why do you look so sad?”
She mused, pursing her pillow-like lips. Her big then eyes lit up with an idea. Link assessed her expression, and immediately sprang up from the chair, clomping away on his heels.
“I’m gonna get youuuuu!” She pursued her doll, the floor shaking as she stomped towards him. Link had made it back to the wardrobe, and saw the glimmer of fluxing colors inviting him back to the other world. He lunged forward, but the wall of clothing wasn’t ready to let him pass. Flung back onto the floor by a thick belt, Link turned and saw her approach, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling.
“Gooooochie gooooochie gooochie….”
He scrambled, and shrieked, kicking his legs trying to get back to his feet. Those pudgy fingers descended slowly…
“ahh gooooochie goochie goooochie….”
Link had gotten on his knees and was starting to push himself up when he felt her big soft hands close on his sides. She had barely begun squeezing when he erupted in laughter, falling back down on his stomach.
“Awww. I never would have guessed the Hero of Time would be so ticklish!”
He laughed helplessly, kicking his feet up and down and pounding his fists in frustration. Her large hands effortlessly slid up and down his slender form, squeezing, grasping and rubbing from his sides to his ribs. She then darted her fingers up into his smooth underarms and began stroking. Link brought his arms down tightly, but she was already invading those tender crevices.
“My goodness! What would you do if Gannon started tickling you? You are such a squirmy baby boy!”
Catching his hips, she began rolling her thumbs up and down as she pulled him up from the floor. “Now let’s examine your front side, shall we?”
Easily flipping him over, she proceeded to sit on her knees over his legs. He put his hands up to fight her off, and she pressed her larger hands into his, locking her fingers between his. She sighed sweetly, and locked eyes with his.
“So, where are you most ticklish, Link? Your little tummy? Maybe those tender sides? Hmm? How about those teeny little feet? Mmm?”
In a lightning-quick maneuver, she released his fingers and caught both his wrists with one of her hands while the other menacingly wriggled fingers high above. “How about a world tickle tour?”
She posed, her free hand starting to wiggle around his neck, dodging his chin as she tried to stop her ingress. Her feather-like strokes traversed around his neck and into his faux cleavage, reaching down to playfully rub his nipples. He bucked under her big form, trying to roll her away as he blushed at her new attack, helplessly laughing madly.
“I’ll have to remember that spot! Now don’t cry baby, or I’ll have to fix your makeup. And then I’ll REALLY get you!”
Her soft fingers migrated down, visiting each armpit before tracing his ribs with an index finger, up and down. Gently squeezing his sides again, she then darted for his tummy, spidering her impressive finger-span in a big circle around his belly button. He cried out in laughter at the sensation of her five fingers teasing him through the silky material of the dress. Link thrashed his head around, and gasped when he realized the closet had tossed his gear on the floor nearby.
As the stylish woman busied herself by turning around and squeezing his knees, he looked desperately to his boomerang, which was just out of reach. Working through his hysterical laughter, he used one hand to try and push her off. “Ah ah! I’m not going anywhere my doll, not until he’s as happy and giggly as I am!”
His other hand inched closer and closer to his weapon. All he needed was to grab the end of it. Even a toss from this angle would be enough to stun her, and then he would be free at last. Meanwhile, she had decided to give his thighs a whirl, and began artfully trailing the tips of her nails all around those quivering muscles. Link screamed with laughter at this new attack.
“Oh my! Linky poo has super ticklish thighs! Tickle, tickle, tickle! I think this dress makes my fingers extra tickly. I do hope someone puts this on a stained glass window.”
But his spasm allowed him to gain a precious millimeter of floor space, allowing him to grab the boomerang at last. Taking his one change, Link tossed it, just as the stylish woman had turned around. The tool twirled toward her head, and it seemed as though it was all over. That is, until Sheerow appeared from nothingness and snatched the item from its path. Ravio’s voice echoed through the air as the stylish woman looked on in shock.
“Sorry, Mr. Hero. It looks like you’ve fallen in battle. I’ll be taking this back now. Come back if you want to rent it again. We’re rooting for you…and your rupees.”
Link smiled innocently at the stylish woman as she turned back to him, mouth agape. Trying to worm away, he felt her weight press down on his dressed up body. “Ohhh…you naughty ticklish doll. Now you’re going to get it!” There was a reason the door remained locked, Link realized. It may have seemed like it was to keep prying eyes of the village out. But really, it was to keep the stylish woman’s toys from escaping…
“Now where’s that baby oil!”
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peace-coast-island · 5 months
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Diary of a Junebug
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Quilts, knits, and the art of letting go of those who only see an idealized version of you
The dangerous thing about fiber arts is that when you get into one thing, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll want to try another, then another, and another. Some things you really like, others, you’ve tried it and thought maybe this isn’t your thing. Depending on how much you plan to get out of a certain craft, it can end up being sort of costly, not in terms of $$, but in terms of materials. I’ve seen people with a huge yarn stash that there’s even a saying about how they’ll never get through all their yarn in their lifetime!
This event involves two crafts, knitting and quilting. It’s also a collaboration between Daisy Jane and Jamila for a special fall/winter collection. Almost exactly one year ago, Jamila opened up her shop, Patchwork Knits, which for now mostly sells knit and quilting patterns. In the near future though, Jamila hopes to expand with things like hand-dyed yarn, fabric, and various notions for sewing and knitting.
So far, Jamila really been killing it with her knitting patterns. I fell in love with her Cozy Cardi as soon as I saw the pics she posted on her socials and just had to make it. It’s one of those patterns where I want to make a lot of them in different colors because the style is so classic and can go with a lot of different outfits.
Never have I been so proud of a project like this one. The construction’s the kind where you start with the neckband and then pick up for the body. Since the button band’s worked on as you go in smaller needles than the body, it can get a little fiddly to work with, especially in the beginning. It took me some time to get used to, but in the end. It wasn’t so bad. And I think it kept things a bit interesting when I got to the body.
And instead of stockinette, it’s in half-Fisherman’s rib, a stitch that I’ve grown to like. Sure, it can be slow growing since your rows are basically in half. And it’s ribbing, which can get tedious sometimes. But, at least for me, half-Fisherman’s engaging enough that it doesn’t feel like a drag. Plus, I really like how the fabric turns out. I definitely don’t mind doing more projects with half-Fisherman’s rib.
As for full Fisherman’s rib or brioche, I don’t know if I’m ready to tackle those yet. I’ve heard that they’re real yarn eaters, which means they’re even slower growing. Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about that yet. I do want to tackle them in the future, but maybe not for something like a sweater or cardigan, at least not anytime soon. I have seen some patterns with brioche that caught my eye, but with the fact that they use fingering yarn - meaning tiny stitches that’ll take even longer to make progress on - I think I need to slowly build my courage. The last thing I want is to become discouraged in the middle of a project, especially one that I put so much time and effort into.
Right now, I’m working on a Cozy Cardi for my mom, as well as another one of Jamila’s patterns, the Warm Spring Days cardigan for myself. Since my mom’s birthday is coming up in two months, this project will take priority. Plus, Warm Spring Days is meant for the warmer season, so it’ll be a while before I get to wear it. So far, both are going well. I just separated the sleeves and body for my mom’s cardigan, and am slowly making my way shaping the back of Warm Spring Days.
The thing about Jamila’s knitting patterns is that they look simple and classic, the kinds of things that most people would consider staples in their wardrobe. What makes her stand out is the construction of her patterns and the techniques she uses to shape her garments. It’s also a plus that she’s size inclusive and seriously takes the time to make sure that her patterns work for all different kinds of body types. Although she’s a new designer, she’s already seriously making waves in the community!
Based on my personal experiences with Jamila’s patterns, her designs are engaging enough that it sort of challenges you to step out of your comfort zone while being straightforward enough that once you get the hang of what’s going out, it’s easy to turn into a mindless, meditative knit. Though most of her garments look simple, it’s the little details that make her designs stand out and makes the process of making them more fun. Simple, timeless, and basic can be good.
Edie’s mainly working as sort of an assistant with things like tech editing, proofreading, and doing occasional admin stuff. She says she doesn’t mind being an official one when the business really takes off as it would be nice to have something consistent on the side. While she can support herself on music and writing alone, it’s nice to have something else to fall back on if she can’t do either for whatever reason.
Although I’ve been mostly talking about knitting, Jamila’s quilt designs aren’t meant to be slept on. It’s just that I don’t know too much about quilting as the hobby seems kinda intimidating to me. I’ve always liked the idea of using leftover material to make something like a patchwork quit, which is really probably the only reason I would get into quilting.
It’s just that there’s a lot of bits and pieces and steps when it comes to quilting, so I’m afraid of my project looking wonky or off. With sewing in general, there’s a lot more stuff and equipment you have to handle, as well as measurements not behind as forgiving. Especially when it comes to garments, sewing them takes more work than knitting.
So far, quilting isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Though, I’m sticking to small and simple projects where if I make mistakes, it won’t ruin the whole thing. I don’t think it’s something I’ll pick up often, but it is fun and satisfying to put these fabric scraps to good use.
However, I am working on making a patchwork quilt. It’s just that I want it to be strictly fabric scraps rather than going out and getting material specifically for that. It’s gonna be a long term project, just like my granny square blanket. With all the fabric I’ve accumulated over the years, I’m hoping it’ll be kinda like a scrapbook but in quilt form. I think my fabric scraps will be able to make something cohesive looking. I mean, I had all kinds of yarn for my granny square blanket and it ended up looking nice and colorful. So it’ll be something that I’ll work on occasionally whenever I feel like it and I’m excited to see how it turns out.
The event kinda also serves as a test run for some future patterns Jamila’s working on, as well as give her an idea on what to include when she starts putting together kits. We also did some experimenting with dying fibers - nothing much, but just to get an idea of it. She hasn’t gotten the materials yet, which makes sense because dyeing seems expensive and takes quite a bit of work, so it’s a good opportunity to do some tests to see if that’s something she wants to do in the future.
So far, I’d say it’s been going well. Jamila’s not entirely sold on the yarn she used as a sample, though the results came out good. She has other samples to test out and we have plenty of time. At least she knows now that hand dyed yarn is definitely something she wants to dive deeper into. Nothing set in stone yet, but it’s something to look forward to when the time comes.
Edie’s been in better spirits now that a weight has been lifted off her family’s shoulders. Although her father hasn’t been really a part of her adult life, he was always hanging over her and her siblings. The way she put it, he’s not a bad guy, just someone who’s expects too much and only sees you as potential instead of who you actually are. Those kinds of people can be conflicting.
A couple months ago he died unexpectedly and left a will to his kids. Basically, the will he left behind says a lot about how he sees his family. At least, how he thinks they should be. It’s no wonder that Edie and her siblings can’t rely on him. Truth is, they’re actually relieved that he’s gone.
According to Edie, her mother says that her father struggled with dissatisfaction. He was an intelligent, hard working person who was forced to grow up quickly, so he kinda became resentful that his siblings were given opportunities he was never able to get for himself. That was part of the reason why he placed such high expectations on his kids.
Sure, a lot of parents are like that. Well, maybe most of them aren’t as resentful as he was, but it’s understandable that they only want what’s best for their kids. But the issue is, how do they really know what’s best for their kids? Is it based on the kids themselves, or is it self projection? Even with parents who mean well, the line between what they want and what their kids want can be blurred.
At least most parents try to communicate with their kids and know how to admit when they’re wrong. Mistakes happen and we get blinded by our own wishes and aspirations. Sometimes we just have to take a step back and admit that we don’t always know what’s best - for ourselves and for others. We may not see eye to eye on some things - and maybe we never will - but at least we could try to make an effort to communicate and understand each other.
Unfortunately, some people refuse to be understanding. They see you struggling and find something to blame it on instead of addressing the real problem, which is usually more complicated than “X is bad, and it’s you’re fault, and that’s why you’re having this problem.” They shut you down whenever they feel like it, and then complain that you don’t know how to stand up for yourself. You do something that you’re proud of and they respond with indifference, even outright dismissing or insulting you because they’re just not interested.
Being the third born, Edie knew that she was gonna disappoint her father no matter what. He insisted that no one was interested in her music and her writing, dismissing everything just like he did to her older sisters. He made her second guess all her decisions and question whether she deserved to have good things happen to her. At least with her younger siblings, he was kinda like fuck it, like he expected them to disappoint him too.
The biggest thing about him though is that he just blatantly lies about his kids. Like with Edie’s second oldest sister, he told people that she wasn’t married because she has a wife instead of a husband. He told people that Edie’s music wasn’t worth checking out due to her lack of talent, sort of implying that Edie bought her views to make herself look good, which obviously isn’t true. And him sort of implying that Clanwing had ulterior motives to have Rolly and Easton become friends, which is completely baseless and pretty insulting.
I mean, it’s fine if you don’t approve of how your kids are living their lives, but don’t go around spreading misinformation and then shut others down when they call you out on your bullshit. That’s just on a whole different level of low.
No wonder Clanwing doesn’t like the guy. Edie said her father had very high expectations for Easton since he was the only son. But when it turned out that Easton was born missing a limb, he seemed ashamed. Well, that’s shitty of him. At least by the time Easton came around he had distanced himself as a parent to the point that Easton honestly sees him as more of a distant relative who you kinda stay out of their way rather than a father. I’d say it’s a good thing.
Then Easton befriended Rolly, and suddenly his father was a bit more interested in him. By that, he was really only interested in Kent Clanwing. The Clanwing head might have his own glaring issues on the high expectations he sets for his family and the pressure he puts on them for not being like him, but at least he’s not as two faced and dismissive as Edie and Easton’s father.
As for him being two faced, the way he treated Anissa after her stroke is a good example of that. Anissa was one of the few friends who he approved of, though he didn’t like it when she talked back. Meaning, whenever he said something rude about one of his kids in front of her and Jamila, Anissa will respond by saying something nice about them. She was one of the few who didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit, and maybe he kinda respected that as he still would compare her favorably against his own kids. But then she had the stroke and he didn’t hesitate to make fun of her behind her back. So that pretty much says a lot about him.
As for the will he left behind, the terms he set are pretty ridiculous. He didn’t have much to leave behind, but it is pretty significant - as in the amount of money, not so much the real value of it. He really told one of his daughters that she can only get her share of his inheritance if she break up with her wife and marry a respectable gentleman. Uh, not gonna happen. For Edie and a couple of her sisters, he basically told them to give up the lives they have now and follow his instructions or else they won’t get anything. And for the younger ones, it’s pretty much the same - give up what makes you you, and be the person I wanted you to be, even if it contradicts everything about you. Yikes.
Obviously, they’re not following these terms. It’s not like they need the money, so that’s not the issue. Yeah, it’s…I don’t know how to put it…disrespectful? This guy really thought he could control his kids from the dead because he’s their father and they have to do what he says. Except most of them are grown now and are living their own lives with no input from him whatsoever. He was never involved to begin with, so why did he think he could take control now?
Edie wrote about the whole thing on her blog as it was unfolding, mainly just to look back on how ridiculous the whole thing was. Again, she wasn’t mindlessly hating on her father, more like trying to figure out what kind of a person he was. Maybe he had good intentions but he was too blinded by the idea of potential that he failed to see what was in front of him. Either way, she’s long accepted that she can’t change who he is, the same way he couldn’t change who she is.
The way people are is often a mystery. But I guess in most cases, we’ll never really know or understand. I think it makes sense, seeing that we don’t always understand ourselves.
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