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#I don’t have the energy to devote to content anymore on anything
oraclekleo · 8 months
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[Pick-A-Pile]Messages for you from the cards
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Hello and welcome to a short PAC of mine.
This time I’m not asking the cards about anything in particular. I allow them to deliver the kind of message they feel like you should know now.
If you struggle picking a pile, it might be that none of the messages are supposed to reach you at this moment. If you come back in a month, maybe you pick the pile instantly because then it’s gonna be the time for you to receive the message.
If in general you struggle picking piles, it might be that as well. Sometimes you are not supposed to pick one because the message is not meant for you. Keep that in mind.
Disclaimer:
All my tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only
This is a general timeless reading - take what resonates
May include mature, NSFW, 18+ or triggering content
Minors should not engage with my blog
Tarot is self-development tool (yes, even future spouse readings are self-development tools), it’s not a life manual
Whatever the cards say, you always have a freedom of choice
Never base important life decisions in solely tarot readings
Maintain moderate consumption of tarot readings, it’s like any other addiction, it becomes unhealthy when it’s too much
Masterlist: Pick-A-Pile (PAC) Masterlist
Let's Play: Tarot Games 🎲
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Messages for You from the Cards
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Pile 01
Cards: 2 of Cups, 10 of Swords, Ace of Coins (Tarot of Tales), 38. The Milk of the Mother Flows, 42. She is Moonlight-Shy (The Solitary Witch Oracle), Star Anise (The Herbal Tea Magic for the Modern Witch Oracle)
There’s an end of discussion leading to important decisions - it’s time to stop analysing and debating and it’s time to start working on your goals.
Relationships are nurturing and lovely, you are rewarded with the same amount of care you have put into them.
Follow your intuition but keep your eyes open - you might have a tendency to romanticise what’s actually not that good in the merciless light of reality.
Someone in your life might present themselves well but they are actually toxic for you. It’s time to show them the door.
Your manifestations are likely to come to fruition now. Whatever you have wished and manifested for will finally materialise in your world.
Meeting your soulmate or just someone very dear to you is suggested.
Now is the time to embrace your personal magick powers. The time of waiting is over, be the best version of yourself now. Devote to your craft.
Your energy is at its peak and flowing easily, your actions now will influence your future many years ahead.
It's a time of good fortune for you - you might want to play the lottery.
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Pile 02
Cards: 10 of Wands, 10 of Cups, Ace of Wands (The Light Seer’s Tarot), Cheetah, Lion (The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Oracle), Purification (Sacred Destiny Oracle)
It’s time to de-clutter, purify, clean and cleanse, sort and make space for what’s about to come. New vibrant energy can’t enter your life when it’s clogged with old, stagnant and blocking energy. Clean yourself and space around you. Eat lightly and get rid of things you don’t love anymore.
Time of abundance is ahead of you, especially if you read this in the summer season. Abundance of what you desire will come to you like a summer storm - swiftly and showering down.
Don’t waste your energy and resources. Observe and be smart with your decisions. There are battles worth fighting but there are also those you should avoid. Learn to recognize them.
Your potential and energy are endless but you need a purpose and motivation to use them well. If you are lacking any of these, take a moment to think about your ‘why’.
Your creativity is radiating and burning, you might experience an increase when it comes to brilliant ideas now.
Everything is connected. Use your intellect and imagination to see how people and situations interact. You might feel an urge to start writing a story or poem.
Finally some happiness arrived at your home’s door. You might feel blessed in the circle of your close relatives or friends, maybe celebration is at hand.
If your project or relationship becomes a tedious and tiring one, don’t lose hope and keep going. You are just about to release the burdens and reach fruition of your labour.
It might be about time for you to do something for your community. In relation to the above, you might feel called to release some content for your social media followers, or you might want to donate your old clothes to charity, or maybe you simply bake a cake for your grandma for her birthday.
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Pile 03
Cards: V The Hierophant, Knight of Swords, XI Justice (The Slavic Legends Tarot), L The Ram and Dahlia, XII The Lizard and Pitcher Plant (Woodland Wardens Oracle), Hazel (The Wisdom of Trees Oracle)
Set your mental and emotional boundaries, especially when dealing with people. Some dramas have nothing to do with you, don’t waste your energy on them.
If you feel stuck or stagnant, remember the lizard's ability to let go of their tails to escape from predators. Maybe it’s time for you to drop something in order to move forward.
You are determined and focused on your goals and if you maintain like that, you can achieve whatever you want. Be headstrong and gracious at the same time and no obstacle stands a chance against you.
It’s time to establish a little more balance in your life. Which aspects take most of your attention and which ones you neglect recently?
If you are dealing with people and their dramas, remain impartial and unbiased. If you lean to any side, it will only bring more chaos to the situation. Keep a cool head.
Make meticulous plans but don’t get stuck in the planning phase. Once you are done debating, take courage and execute what you have drafted.
Ride the storm - while others hide from challenges, you should see an opportunity to shine against adversity. You have that personal power and charm to lead masses in times of crises.
You might feel the need to study, examine and evaluate rules, norms, laws or customs. Maybe you follow some traditions despite them being a burden to you. Maybe some laws are outdated and only promote injustice. It’s time to take in a bigger picture and work on improvements.
Your older friends or relatives possess wisdom. Come together at this time and learn some crucial information or skills from them. Is inflation giving a hit to your budget? Your elders might know some frugal tricks to help you. Maybe your sensitive skin doesn’t benefit from creams you buy and your grandma has some time proofed home remedy for that. Seek for long-term wisdom instead of quick hecks.
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Thank you for reading!
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nanasparadise · 2 years
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Hello! I hope that you are doing fine. I want to say that I really lime your writing and reading your writing makes me happy! ^^
Also, is the flower ask prompt still open? Can I get Mirio Togata with Camellia, please? Thank you and have a nice day!
Anon said: “Hello! For the flower prompts: Could you write for Mirio Togata with Ivy, please? Thank you!”
Hiya anon! Thank you for your request, I’m so glad to hear you enjoy my content! I hope this one will make you happy as well <3
"Like the rising sun" Yan!Mirio x gender-neutral reader
Camellia (devotion, perfection): “You know I’d do anything for you, right? My love knows no limits.”
 Ivy (fidelity): “There is no one who’s more loyal than me! I’m tied to you, just like you are to me.”
Summary: No matter how bright your captor was, you couldn’t find happiness again. 
TW: toxic relationship, implied kidnapping, depression, delusional mindset, mentions of past violence (towards reader), noncon touching, IMPLIED NONCON, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI
I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life. 
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“I’m back, honey!”
How you loathed his voice. That stupidly ever cheerful voice, boisterous and loud and always present. 
Soon enough, his equally cheerful smile appeared in your vision. Mirio opened the door to your room, the beaming expression adorning his face blinding you. If you were a poet and he was your muse, you’d describe him as pure sunlight. Too bad you were but a captive in his home and had no kind word to spare for him. 
The pro-hero’s grin faltered when he glanced at your face. “I missed you so much during the shift! Although I had hoped you would feel the same.” A bashful chuckle escaped his lips.
You didn’t grant him a sliver of your attention, knowing that it‘d drive him insane. Stubbornly, you continued staring at the wall in front of you, his form only a blob in your peripheral vision. 
The mattress dipped under the additional weight as a warm hand was placed on your shoulder. Two months ago, you would have flinched. Now, it had become the norm to be touched by him, an inevitable fact that couldn’t be changed. 
The realisation made your thoughts stumble, a wave of sadness washing over you. When did you stop resisting and start accepting this bleak reality?
“Sweetheart,” Mirio sighed, his hand rubbing circles in your skin, “I’m talking to you. Please, speak to me, my love.” 
“Of course I’m not happy to see you,” you replied, your answer a mere whisper in the room. You had hoped it would come out louder, stronger, showing how much you hated it here, hated him. But it cost so much energy to fight back. 
The hand stilled for a moment. Instead, the reassuring gesture got replaced with a tight grip. “I know the first weeks had been hard to adjust to,“ he said, his voice uncharacteristically - dangerously - low, “but I’m really trying my best to make you feel comfortable, Y/N. What do you want me to do? Would you like more clothes? Different books? We can also take a stroll through the garden if that’s what you wish for. Please, just tell me, you know I’d do anything for you, right? My love knows no limits.“ 
You turned your head, staring straight into his blue eyes. Distress marked his face as he desperately tried to make you see his point of view. “Let me go, then,” you uttered, echoing the plea you had made already countless times in the past. 
“Not this again,” Mirio muttered, “I don’t want anything to happen to you, you know that.” His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, gently cradling it. Genuine concern was written all over his face as his thumb softly traced your cheekbone. 
Left, right, left, right - a tear trickled down your cheek.
“That night, when I found you in the alley, beaten up and blood on the pavement-”
The movement halted - another tear. 
“-my heart couldn’t take it.” His voice cracked, no hint of joy could be detected in it anymore. “I thought you’d die, Y/N. How did you expect me to react? I had to bring you somewhere safe where no one could lay a finger on you again.” 
Your gaze shifted from his now tear-filled eyes to your leg, inspecting the familiar weight around your ankle in the form of a monitor. ‘Is being imprisoned like a criminal the only way to guarantee safety?’, you pondered, not quite able to hide the bitterness from your face. 
Mirio followed your look, his mouth turning in a resigned line once he saw what you were fixated on. “I had to do this, it was either this or the chain,” he tried to reason, obviously believing that it was the right choice to make, if you interpreted the tone of his voice correctly. 
What a messed up life you were going through.
“Just take it as the proof of my devotion for you! I’d do anything to keep you from harm, even if it hurts me to see you being so miserable. We’re going through this together, baby. There is no one who’s more loyal than me! I’m tied to you, just like you are to me.” His hand wandered to your jaw, gently gripping and directing it towards his face so that you’d look at him again. A crooked smile now graced his face, though you could detect the slight trembling in his lips. Just like his words, it was an illusion - twisted and utterly worthless to you. 
“Time heals even the deepest wound. Soon enough, you’ll get used to it, you’ll even be happy-” you scowled at him, however, it didn’t deter him one bit “-I just need to show you all of my love for you!” This time, a sincere smile reappeared on his face. 
Like the rising sun, ever so stupidly dutiful and joyous. You couldn’t stand to witness it. Day in, day out. 
He pushed your forehead towards him, touching it with his lips in a kiss. Gently. Earnestly. Unwanted.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t make you see just how much I adore you, darling,” he whispered to you, “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take a two-week break from work and will dedicate myself only to you, babe.” 
Another kiss followed, this time placed carefully on the tip of your nose. 
“It’d be like paradise, I promise.”
‘It’d be like hell.’
A kiss to your right cheek. 
“We’ll be together all the time, you won’t be lonely again.”
‘I’d rather be anywhere but with you.’
A kiss to your left cheek. 
“And I will make love to you every night, so that you won’t forget that I’m here for you to attend to your every need, always.” 
A horrified expression flitted over your face, your eyes widened in terror as you tried to get away from him, anything but this, you couldn’t-
Strong hands gripped your waist, keeping you in place. And despite them radiating an almost unnatural warmth, you felt a shiver crawling down your spine. 
A final kiss to your lips. 
“Starting now.”
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opheliacrainbow · 3 years
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How’s everyone been? I miss y’all.
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360iris · 3 years
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Poly!Draco Malfoy x Blaise Zabini x Ravenclaw!Reader Blurb
Content warning: A dash of smut and a drop of daddy kink
Blaise was never close with anyone from his house. Whether it be, because of their attitudes or underdeveloped ideologies, but he remained to himself. That is until he was paired with you during a potions lesson in your second year.
Even as a child, he was never one to laugh much, but you were intelligent and funny. The two of you instantly clicked.
After that day, he found himself seeking you out. Whether you were curled up outside under a tree reading or falling asleep during a divination lesson, he’d slip in beside you and happily listen to whatever thought crossed your beautiful mind.
He doesn’t waste his time speaking unless there’s something he actually wants to say, otherwise he’s silent.
With you he’s adoringly attentive; with others, he comes off as blatantly unimpressed.
You’re best friends and share your first kiss at the age of fourteen, but don’t start formally dating until your fifth year.
Lots of cuddling in comfortable silence or Blaise quietly listening to you complain about Professor Snape, while not taking his eyes off of his book.
“He marked down my essay by a whole letter because he claims the herb isn’t recognized by that specific name anymore! What an absolute tosser! Every year I gradually understand why he’s always alone! No one can suffer his company! The funny thing is that I was just starting to feel like he was a decent guy!” You vent, blood boiling just recalling the interaction.
“Y/N?” He exhales from above you, your face currently squished against his chest.
“Hm?” You respond, lifting your head to face him, before suddenly feeling his lips on your own. It was disorienting, and then wholly consuming. But right as you bring a hand up to clutch his jumper, he’s pulling away.
“Don’t talk about other men while you’re straddling me, love.” He replies, turning his attention back to the pages in front of him. Your mouth drops as the butterflies in your stomach do airplane maneuvers.
“Wha- Blaise!” You try to appeal but you can tell by the smirk on his lips that he’s not budging.
“Don’t be a brat; that was all you’re getting.”
Sixth year was when Blaise introduced you to Draco. You had seen the platinum blonde boy over a dozen of times during your years at Hogwarts, but had never actually spoken to him. You were one of the lucky few.
Blaise later informs you that the boy had a fall out with his usual gaggle of idiots and needed to be around more grounded individuals.
“So... you want me to suddenly be best-mates with Draco-fucking-Malfoy? I thought you couldn’t have cared less about him?”
To say you were confused, was a severe understatement.
“He wouldn’t have even gotten in this predicament if he hadn’t spent the majority of his time here, devoted to pissing everyone off.” You huff, collapsing onto Blaise’s assigned bed. He’d snuck you in here many times over the years.
“I know what I said, Y/N. Now I’m saying that I pulled a couple of strings and he’s going to be my roommate.” He drawls out, rolling his eyes at the socked foot playfully prodding his torso.
“It’s not up for discussion.” He states, grabbing ahold of your foot and utilizing it to make room between your legs.
His usually pristine, ironed slacks wrinkling as his knees dug into the duvet underneath you.
“So, in short: All I want to hear from those pretty, little lips of yours is a confirmation that you’ll be a good girl and behave when he gets here.” His hands gripped at your exposed thighs and your skirt, ever so slightly hiked up to reveal more of your soft skin.
Biting your lip to keep in a whimper, your attention switches to the source of a surprised sputter from the door.
“Oh! Um.. Zabini...” The boy’s pale face already becoming red and splotchy from embarrassment.
It took a while for Draco to adjust to his new company. Most likely due to the fact that, for the first time ever, he couldn’t control his peers. Neither of you cared about his status or his daddy’s money. He soon realized that there wasn’t a need to put on an act anymore.
Within a short span of time, he learned to stop bothering other students. Whenever he unnecessarily detoured to pester an underclassman on the way to a lesson, Blaise and yourself would simply keep walking. Ultimately leaving him by himself.
Naturally everyone noticed the drastic change in his demeanor, and while you did get questions from girls in your house asking why Malfoy was suddenly trailing after you and your boyfriend like a lost puppy, the school appreciated the loss of one of it’s primary bullies.
The most to least talkative in the trio: you, Draco and lastly Blaise.
Oldest to youngest: Blaise, you and Draco.
Draco wasn’t accustomed to people being as sarcastically playful with him as you are. Teasing him as much as Blaise would allow, before he pulls you away from the younger boy by the waistband of your skirt.
Riling him up was by far your favorite pastime.
As months went by, you noticed the bonds the boys were forming, even if Draco seemed oblivious to it.
“He’s growing on you.” You say in a sing-song manner after Draco heads off to his next class. You smile when Blaise pauses his quill mid-stroke.
“Don’t you have an assignment you should be completing?” Is all he responds but you don’t let up, poking him under the table with your shoe.
“I think he likes you, though he probably doesn’t even know it yet.” Switching your gaze onto your hand, inspecting your manicure. He’s not looking at you anyway, bracing himself on the table with his forearms and face turned away.
“Do you want to sleep with him?” You ask, crossing your arms and he jolts.
“Merlin, Y/N!”
“What it’s okay! I do too! He has a puppy-dog energy to him.” You respond nonchalantly and Blaise scrunches his face, clearly overwhelmed.
“Wha-“
“I’m admitting it, so that you can admit it and then we can move on to the next step!”
He inhales deeply and sits back in his chair. Clearly taking a second to collect his thoughts. “And what’s the next step?” He asks, one of his perfect brows arching.
“So you know how we’re dating?” You ask and he stares back at you blankly. 
“Yes, Y/N. I’m aware that we’re dating.” He replies dryly but you continue.
“Well, I know he likes you. I mean, I have functioning eyes! He’s so reliant on you, it’s really cute! Anyway! I noticed that he likes me too! When I’m around, he’s always looking at me. Like when I make a joke or put my hair up, or if I’m just reading! It’s the same way you look at me.” You excitedly ramble.
“And how do I look at you exactly?” He questions coolly.
“Like you love me. Like, you’re seeing me for who I really am, and you must like what you find because you don’t turn away. If anything, you stare harder.” You say tenderly, daring him to deny it but he doesn’t. He nods his head and brings a hand up to his mouth.
“So what do you want to do?” He finally asks and you smile.
You decide on testing how far Draco would let you treat him as if you both were dating him too.
For Blaise this meant speaking softer and sweeter. Wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder when they walked together in the halls.
As for yourself, you made a point of sitting closer to him. Brushing your exposed thigh against his hips or pressing your chest on his arm when reaching for something. You might even act as if you’re removing an eyelash from his cheek or tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
He got the most flustered with you. When you got close he always froze in place, holding his breath nervously as if you were a skittish butterfly.
“Aren’t you tired, dear?” You ask with a faux furrow in your brow, innocently batting your eyelashes.
“Wha- What do you mean?” He replies confused as you sit almost flush against him as he’s seated at the end of Blaise’s bed.
The eldest boy looking up from the book in his lap, legs crossed as he leans back against the headboard. Watching as you drag a hand through Draco’s hair. He’s silent and unmoving when the blonde boy turns to anxiously meet his gaze.
“Don’t you want to touch me, Draco? Aren’t you tired of just looking?” You’re caressing his cheek as you speak and you already know you have him looped around your finger because he already looks so desperate.
“Do you want to touch me, sweetheart?” You ask again, and he nods eagerly causing you to chuckle.
As you straddle him, you look up at your boyfriend. His stare is intense and you smirk. This was going to be fun.
“Draco, dear.” You purr, situating yourself on his lap.
“Hm?” He’s looking at you with such adoration, your smile widens. Lacing a hand into the hair at the base of his neck, you press a kiss on his cheek.
“Let’s see how much we can get away with before Daddy intervenes.”
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bigskydreaming · 2 years
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Its surgery day! OMG I never thought I would be this excited to get knocked out and have my face sliced open wait that sounds not great huh. REWIND. Sooooo I head to the hospital in about five hours and am just killing time like a murderer until then, I’ve got ants in my pants and am doing a funky dance, hey can anyone tell I’m excited?
ANYWAY. Just want to once again express from the bottom of my heart how grateful I am for all the help getting here. I have legit been working towards getting this surgery for about five years now and the last couple of years especially with the pandemic have felt like standing still and I was starting to think it would never actually happen. I would not be able to actually go and get this today without all of your help, whether you just signal boosted donation posts or sent stuff in, so thank you, thank you, thank you. This will literally transform the entire quality of my life and enable me to do all kinds of things that I was working towards BEFORE this happened but got put on indefinite pause while I pretty much devoted my entire life and focus to getting my jaw fixed.
I’ll be going radio silent now and likely for the rest of the month, though possibly I’ll be ‘back’ sooner than then. Don’t be surprised if you see me follow you all of a sudden this weekend, I’m probably gonna be loading up my dash with a lot more people to keep me occupied while I’m bedridden - like, don’t get weirded out if you see me suddenly follow you and yet not interact with your posts at all, it doesn’t mean anything other than that for the moment I’m mostly just likely to be scrolling and reading.
I’ve got a lot of stuff queued up for this month under both my TW and Batfam pseudonyms, the first ‘new’ chapter of LC should post later today and will be followed this weekend by a Dick and Cass one-shot, and then there should be stuff semi-regularly throughout the month. In addition, since once I’m back on my feet I do intend to dive in to jumpstarting a lot of original projects that have been on hold for literal years, I’ve got posts about some of those queued up to hopefully get some people intrigued by those. First up there is a deep dive into my big space opera universe, so hopefully people who enjoy my worldbuilding will get a kick out of that.
My patreon is queued up to ‘open’ next week, once some of the posts about original projects are up, with the stuff for this month on it pretty much automated, and then next month I’ll be adding more stuff and more tiers. I will be back on my feet next month and able to work regularly at non-work from home positions again, and without the need to pay for my super pricey insurance anymore, I’ll be MUCH better off financially and should no longer need donation posts anymore in the future. My queued fic posts for this month will include links to my ko-fi and paypal (which can also be found on the main page of my blog) if people feel inclined to leave a tip or whatever, because I flat out will not be able to add any new income this month, and I am still gonna have a lot of work ahead of me getting new teeth, lol.....but the goal is by next month to have shifted entirely to just supplementing my work income with actual content creation via patreon and possibly commissions.
My post with a list of all my Batfam WIPs will be popping up again this month, as will a post with a list of all my unfinished or unposted TW fics, and while I can’t put a timeline on anything until I see how much more free time or energy I have to devote to fic in the coming months, I WOULD like to pay forward what I can from all the help I’ve received in the form of fic. So make a note of anything you’re particularly interested in, whichever fandom you follow me for, and if you’ve donated to help me get to my surgery, feel free to message me at some point, even just on anon if you prefer, with the name you used when donating and what fic you look forward to, and I’ll try to prioritize accordingly. If you donated completely anonymously with no name attached like via ko-fi, I mean, I’m fine just going by the honor code but I am more likely to get to ones with a name attached sooner rather than later, just because like, when people donate with a name attached to the donation that tends to linger in my brain and like, I have various names in my head that I’ve been desperately wanting to ‘give back to’ in some way for a long time now, if that makes sense? 
But just to be clear, I’m kinda gonna be winging this entire process here and it’ll be more an evolving situation kinda thing as I experiment with my newfound time and energy and focus and fold this in around my other work. Its definitely something I plan on committing to for as long a period of time as I need to be able to at least give back or pay forward SOMETHING to as many people as want it. If there’s one thing I’m good at, its committing longterm. I spent the past five years working towards this damn surgery, I do not at all mind spending the next five years finding ways to give back to those who helped me get it. (As an example but not limited to the following: people with the initials A.A, A.R.C., Z.D., K.C., M+L.T, D.V., I.B., H.J., T.G., D.G., C.S., S.M., E.N. and the mysterious ‘K’......YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE - even if I don’t, lmao. Well I know some of you, but some of you mystery strangers I wanna gratitude-doxx so hard, you don’t even know).
I think that’s all I wanted to say for now, but watch me recollect a whole five other paragraphs I wanted to add the second they hit me with the anesthesia lmao. For now though, I bid all of you lovelies an eternally grateful adieu, and I’ll see you all on the other side of Actual Jaw-Having!
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kakubun · 3 years
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Hi! I'm not sure if this request is okay or not... but could I have some Seijoh 3rd years X a reader who's just barely 5 feet, and seems super shy at first but is actually really energetic, they just have a hard time talking to people? I've only been following your blog for a few days now, but I really love your content! 💕
seijoh third years x gen!reader
:000 thank youuuUUU, i felt like i went off topic again, sorry :((
i love you *cat noises* (also isn’t like barely 5 feet y/n’s nearly at any of the dudes’ crotch 💀 💀 )
also pray for me i have to see my homophobic english teacher almost everyday grr
i’m online on the weekdays and offline most of the time due to gadget restrictions :((, sorry for late late late written request 
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you were adorable, tooru loved you :33
that means a lot of headpats when you agree with him and it would always fluster you and you would always slide your mask up to hide yourself 
PLEASE the third years adored you, you were their favourite person 💀💀 they loved seeing you go all shy at everything they do and partly bullying oikawa which you weren’t
y/n: that’s wrong though.. i thought oikawa was correct?
oikawa: seeee?? *head pat* good darling~ you defitenely know who’s the right and wrong one in the situation💫💫
of course they respected you and never went too far with their teasing, yep they had boundaries but that doesn’t mean they can’t mess with you
oikawa: y/n-chan!! you’re supposed to defend me!!
y/n: when?? you were in the wrong though??
mattsun: agreed.
makki: correct. 
iwaizumi: the statement that they’ve said is genuine and truthful.
matsuhana + oikawa were the same bozos on you every single day 
they would do random bs there and then, making the others done with them 
hanamaki would bend near your ear and ask you to pass his bottle, matsukawa would randomly hold your chin to make him face you whenever you were talking to him and not facing him 
and 
oikawa at one point wanted to take his shirt off like that one scene with suga (which i don’t understand when suga was like “hah, get used to it~” to yachi when they could’ve changed in a locker room or the club room?? like bruh it’s that simple 😎👍👍) but iwaizumi wacked his head and shouted at him to not do anything inappropriate 
and more stupidity involving matsukawa shoving you into his nasty ass sweaty chest by lifting his shirt over your head and hanamaki would wipe cream off your cheek when he purposely pushed it to your cheek  and oikawa sneaking you his fangirls’ chocolates when he couldn’t eat most of them in your bag (he loved his fangirls but it was too much to consume-)
that’s why you adored iwaizumi 
he wasn’t a piece of shit like some people- i mean he wasn’t bothered when you constantly hide behind his back 
you were.. interesting. 
you were pretty quiet and you look really reserved and soft, those thoughts were in his head when he practised his serves but what he didn’t noticed was you since he focused really hard 
you were stimming, you let out a loud woah and clapped, wiggling in your seat 
matsuhana were right at your side and stared at your reaction, holy shit you were cute when you were excited and rather loud 
you just joined the team with no knowledge of volleyball of course you’ll be amazed
well not actually no knowledge, bestie dragged you to their matches and after that you actually watch volleyball with your parents when they let out a relieved breath that you weren’t bothered anymore when they always asked if you wanted to watch any volleyball matches with them and you would join in
they thought it was out of pity but you genuinely wanted to watch it
they looked so cool, you couldn’t resist cheering for them 
oikawa noticed you cheering when you glanced back at the pair near you who were laughing and you whined for them to stop 
oh dear oikawa gushed and his best friend didn’t even noticed you and raised his eyebrow when he saw oikawa all distracted
days and weeks came by and you were suddenly bursting with energy and jumping up and down when they agreed with your strategy to perfect their game play and when they would practise and show off to you and you just wouldn’t stop getting over of how swaggy they looked 
you were pretty happy for the most part, your team fills you with euphoria over and over again and never fails to put a smile on your face 
the left you :DD everyday 
okay, here’s the thing 
matsuhana waved you over to them, wanting to talk to you and whispered to you secret agent style even though there was no need- 
oikawa’s fangirls
mattsun: do you know the unknown creatures that wait near the door at 2p.m. every afternoon??
makki: yeah, yeah the ones that are attracted to oikawa??
y/n: huh isn’t that-
you choked out laughing when you realized what both of them were referring to
of course you knew who they were
they were loud like you
but
nice 
well most of them, they would gush about oikawa but they were kind enough on not to do it in front of you often cause they knew majority of them were annoying :000
but bits of his fans, scary
fan: oh so that’s how usual volleyball practises are? gosh i would be so happy just to be near oikawa- oops sorry! 
y/n: :DD it okay
 they devoted their lives to a simp, an idiot who just loves aliens and volleyball and his friends 😔
you avoided them at every chance, the other fangirls actually protecting you ;’’’’DD but sometimes the mean ones got to you and you had a hard time defending yourself 
“you’re just a slutty whore whose all over oikawa, probably the same with the others. you probably had-” they droned on about very nasty things you would NEVER DO and some of the comments would jab at your heart and you would shake your head and run
you couldn’t hide it to the team and angrily fumed at yourself by troubling the team
oikawa didn’t wait, he grabbed your hand and asked where they were
you told him, crying and putting up your mask and facing the fans again and chills made you twitch a lot when oikawa commanded them to come over and apologized 
the fans froze, stuttering and being completely obvious that they didn’t breathed any of your air even though they did but oikawa rolled his eyes and coldly chuckle and approached them himself
you were panicking so you didn’t watch and look the other way 
it was a blur when he held your hand again and walked you back to the gym when the others anticipated  both of your presence
the team approached you and immediately trapped you in questions and oikawa cooled down and waved off that his business with the fans were finished 
you wiped the last form of your tears and tackled oikawa which made him squel and you lightly punched his chest and banged your head onto it multiple times
y/n: you’re fucking scary when you’re mad
he blinked at this and looked at you who pouted at him and he chuckled and rubbed your back when you hugged him again as a thank you 
the other members broke into chaos on how they were confused, why is oikawa getting hugged by their precious manager and saying that it’s not fair to tease y/n who was in a sensitive position and wanted oikawa to apologize 
guess everything was okay and the fans didn’t bother with you ever again
especially with your captain who bared his fangs to anyone that hurted you
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zevexsii · 3 years
Text
eli clark x reader sfw + nsfw hcs (gn s/o)
obligatory mention of how much i LOVE this man
cut for length and nsfw content
sfw
mom friend energy. eli probably has some of the healthiest behavior, at least comparatively, considering the rest of the manor is an absolute trash fire(loving). 
not saying that eli hasn’t witnessed his fair share of trouble! there’s a lot that he has to deal with- mainly guilt, considering he has a fiance and… feelings for someone else. any sort of relationship would happen very slowly, and you would have to be very open and honest- communication is absolutely key. 
eli lowkey worries that his feelings for you are temporary, seeing as he has no communication with gertrude, the next thought he has is that he’s using you in place of her. it’s terrifying for both of you. 
he isn’t, though! it’s definitely hard to stop thinking about; eli can tell when you’re upset or worried (part of his abilities is being able to perceive the emotions of those around him, to an extent), so please sit down with him and talk it out. eli’s anxiety rises with yours, and it pains him when he can’t comfort you :((
eli would like to continue wearing his engagement ring if you're alright with that. the entire arrangement is complicated and needless to say, eli has a lot of feelings about the subject.
moving on! eli's favourite forms of intimacy involve physical intimacy and words of affirmation <3 i hc that seeing through brooke rose saps a lot of energy out of both eli and brooke, so eli likes to keep his arm linked in yours, even if it isn’t all about having a guide. so pda… but not really? he isn’t opposed to sweet kisses on the forehead or cheek in public, just nothing big. 
eli kind of zones out a lot?? you’ll be in the mess hall, and eli will abruptly lean his head on your shoulder, no matter what you’re doing, humming contentedly under his breath. he’s not trying to stop you from eating, no, not at all! eli just has airhead tendencies and you love him for it. 
if you tend to overwork yourself, or just have trouble taking care of yourself in general, eli won’t be having any of that. since you can’t prioritize yourself, he’ll have to do it for you. 
when eli goes to bed or notices that you haven’t eaten yet, he’s right at your side, gently tapping your shoulder and handing you a glass of water or offering to bring you something up from mess hall. eli understands if you’re working on a deadline, but it’s still concerning enough for him to drag you off for a short nap or two. 
eli is the best cuddler around. lay down with him once, he’ll be pretzeled around you in no time- you’ll never want to get up and that’s the point. he’s not really picky about positions, but his favourites involve ones where he can gently run his fingers along the outline of your facial features (if you’re alright with that, of course). his smooth fingers ghost the outline of your lips, and eli’s smile outshines the sun.
he isn’t the best cook, but he’s more than willing to help out or learn! it’ll be a little more difficult, but eli isn’t opposed to trying things that make you happy or help out.
it may not be too noticeable under eli’s thick robes, but he’s got a really soft tummy and is pretty chubby! his cheeks are real round too- hold them and he’ll lean into your palms, nuzzling gently into your touch. 
pull him onto your lap or hold him!! please don’t let him pull the “i’ll crush you,”. if he does, simply shush him and rest your arm around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head every now and then. he’ll be asleep in no time. eli goes soft if you want to hold him on your lap or vice versa. when he’s got you in his arms, your head nestled in the crook of his neck, there are no words for the warm, protective feeling he gets in his chest.
he prefers holding you most of the time, but if eli’s craving reassurance and comfort, your arms are his hideaway. 
eli is an oblivious petname enthusiast (going both ways), his favourites being dear, darling, and love. hearing the soft tone of your warm words alone makes his heart melt- regardless of what you’re saying. 
another thing that makes eli indescribably soft is seeing you interact with brooke rose. if eli’s companion isn’t with him, it’s common for miss rose to be found perched near you, either being fed or keeping a careful watch over your shoulder. 
brooke also keeps a close eye on you during matches! she knows eli holds you in high priority. if you’ve perfectly timed a calibration or kited the hunter for an impressive run, you’ll hear a faint hoot of support off in the distance as brooke flies back to eli. 
eli is normally very confident in his qualities as a partner, but every now and then, something completely throws him off and into a puddle of self-doubt and crippling fear of inadequacy. during these times, eli needs a lot of one-on-one attention and verbal reassurance. 
he’s also sort of obtained the role of “therapist friend” among the manor inhabitants and sometimes finds himself bending over backward to help others. this trait is exposed in the way that eli will try to brush over the severity of his emotions and problems when he vents to you. 
make sure to interrupt him there and encourage him to discuss things thoroughly. he’ll be truly grateful that you noticed. 
eli really enjoys couple baths :) he’s a little insecure about his body at first, but reassure him, or give him privacy to join you in the sea of bubbles and sweet-smelling oils chosen specifically for their relaxing aromas. 
nsfw
eli is a very soft lover. rather vanilla, but isn’t opposed to indulging you in any of your lighter kinks. he’d rather not touch anything that requires a safeword. sex with eli is about love and pleasure, going both ways. 
big switch energy and will take whatever role his partner needs for the time being. eli’s a little hesitant about initiating, but he’s stellar when it comes to picking up on seemingly minuscule hints- the lingering touches and hazy look in your eyes when you look his way. it drives him insane, but eli waits for the safety of a  private space to nestle himself close to you, his hands slipping lower and lower before one of you finally plants your lips on the others.
as far as libidos go, eli’s sort of casually horny all the time. he’s not going to pressure you into doing anything prematurely though, don’t worry- it takes a while for him to even consider having sex with you, and even longer for the worst of the guilt to subside. 
loves it when you ride him. especially after a difficult match; eli is sore and tired, all he wants is your warmth and a reminder that you adore him. 
seeing as his sight definitely isn’t the best, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to bring brooke rose into this, eli would prefer a more vocal partner. whimper about how good he feels as you bounce up and down on his cock. eli lives to have you go to town on him, using him completely for your own pleasure, milking him for all he’s worth, while your mindless whimpers give away how close you are to cumming. 
eli has an obvious praise kink. worship his body or murmur out your need for him, and his round face flushes completely, precum drizzling from the tip of his dick. he’s decently sized too, roughly fifteen cm in length and twelve cm in girth.
not too fond of oral- receiving, that is. it feels too harried and impersonal for eli to be satisfied with it completely. the only time he’ll ask you to suck him off is when he’s completely exhausted or he’s jealous. on the other hand, one of eli’s favourite places to be is between your legs, caged in by your shaking thighs and driven on by your gasps and moans of pleasure. eli is completely enamoured by all parts of your body, but your thighs are one of his greatest weaknesses. 
when eli tops, he prefers missionary. that way, he’s got the sight of your beautiful face pinned down beneath him burned into his brain, your mutual devotion to each other immortalized in indescribable ecstasy. he has to be as close to you as he can get, too. 
without realizing it, eli begs for you quite often. neither of you really see it as begging, but either way, eli’s breathless pleas of “y/n, please, i need you,” send you reeling. 
eli’s pace is slow and sweet, gaining momentum as he reaches climax and/or you signal him to speed up.
can go for a max of three rounds. eli’s massive creampie kink is activated when he pulls out; the sight of his seed leaking from your soaked hole leaves him seeing stars. most times this leads to an impromptu second, or even third round if you’re up for it.
if you’re feeling a fair bit more dominant, eli is completely fine with penetration. he’ll be extra vocal if you tease him lightly while you prep him. every curl of your fingers inside of him coaxes breathy whines and desperate groans from eli’s heaving chest, and he wouldn’t have it any other way <3
interlock your fingers with his while you milk eli’s prostate, his chest heaving with heavy pants and moans in perfect tandem to the rocking of your hips. remind him how beautiful he is, totally full of you and lost in every slight shift of your cock or strap-on. 
eli won’t bring it up, but it becomes pretty obvious early on that he’s super into overstimulation. you’ve corrupted his thoughts entirely, every sense has been washed over by mindless requests of “more, more, more, please, and oh god i can’t take it anymore, y/n, please-,��
yeah, you’ve completely destroyed him. 
aftercare is tender and sweet, just like eli. depending on who’s subbed, eli will softly work shampoo into your hair, letting you lean back against him, or you’ll gently run a washcloth over eli’s back, applying pressure to any residual tightness in his shoulders. afterward, offer to grab some snacks or water from the kitchens and crawl into bed with your exhausted lover, snoozing off to whispered praises and lovely nothings.
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Text
The son's warmth
Yandere! Hinata x Reader
Notes: This is my entry for @seijorhi's Deal with the devil collaboration~
Warnings: DARK CONTENT, Violence detail, injury detail, manipulation, kidnap, yandere.
Please refrain from reading if you are uncomfortable with the above!
That said, please enjoy!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Generosity. You suppose it could be a bit of a double-edged sword.
Although in hindsight, all you had wanted was to care for the exuberant ball of sunshine you had believed was dealt a bad hand. Parents and younger sister deceased, orphaned at the tender age of 14 and placed in a less than ideal environment - one devoid of love.
You had always been one of a large sympathetic capacity and it had always been a goal of yours, born of the principle’s kindness and compassion, passed on by your parents and sanctioned by your entry into adulthood; allowing you to action your desire to care for a young child struck by tragedy…
You’re not exactly sure, however, how that’d landed you in the basement of your own house with a broken leg and shattered kneecaps.
It was to be expected you'd reasoned at first, you had defied common sense and made a deal with a less than savoury entity.
Too bad you hadn't considered the fact that demons could come in the shape of fair seeming, walking tangerines with an aptitude for overbearing affection.
To his defence (something you’ve now come to consider a very ironic concept) Hinata wasn’t exactly - as far as signatories go - the one you'd even made this... deal with. It had been his orphanage, an institution shrouded in fraud and doused in the bitter aroma of embezzlement that had sealed your fortunes in the form of crisp white adoption papers.
You didn’t mind his clingy nature, the crushing strength of his grip when his hand found - sought - yours… actions that could and would have seemed to untrained eyes like a misplaced and overwhelming sense of desperation, like the shock of betrayal carved upon his features when your focus wasn’t solely trained on him, or the unnerving intensity pooling beneath glittering brown iris’ whenever they met yours during his volleyball matches. Again, this was something you’d chalked down to an amalgamation of a passion for the sport, desire to win and an appreciation for the fact that his beloved mother had come to show him the support he had clearly lacked in the early stages of his teenage years.
After all, what was a guardian without unconditional devotion to their child?
He was the coolness of your eyes whilst paradoxically, providing an all-encompassing warmth (much like the sun) and with an ostensibly boundless supply of energy. Such was the ardour that made your heart swell with pride. It was just a terrible pity – in your case at least - that this energy he had was now being put towards severing your contact with the outside world.
Wanted to go outside? He’d want you to help him practice.
Meeting someone? He’d pout and complain.
How could you refuse? You’d naively attributed such possessiveness to the trauma of losing his family and would excuse such behaviour in consideration of the circumstance. It was only natural. You’d decided to be there for him, accepting the responsibility as soon as you’d inked your name on the dotted line… if he needed a little more attention, that’s what he’d get.
And so, the story progressed until towards the end of his third year of high school, he’d decided the affection you were providing him with, however plentiful, wasn’t nearly as satisfactory as he knew it could be. For you still to be surrounded by others must mean his slice of the pie was diminished in size and a growing boy such as himself needed all the nutrition he could get. He’d reasoned that the entirety of said “pie” belonged to him, anyway. Surely no one could chastise him for exercising a due right over his own property?
He didn’t want to be the occupant of most of your time, he wanted all of it… And it was to be brought to your attention as soon as he arrived home from school.
No sooner had he entered through the front door than he was skipping towards your location (in the kitchen) with a blinding smile on his face, proceeding to grip onto your shoulders with a force that clearly betrayed his cheery demeanour.
“What’s wrong Shoyo?” You queried.
He’d went on to detail how neglected he felt whenever you enjoyed the presence of anyone other than him “It feels like you don’t love me anymore!”, like he’s not good enough, y’know? But it wasn’t your fault, all you needed was the chance to see that he was fully capable of being the only one you needed to depend on.
You were, at first, inclined to think of such proclamations as some silly prank, followed by laughter, declarations of how well and truly you’d been fooled and fabricated in boyish mischievousness. You’d managed to ask as such, but the speed and surety of his response had you becoming increasingly concerned.
“Nope!”
You forced out a nervous puff of laughter, clutching at the rapidly burning straws of denial because surely, he couldn’t be serious, but your dismissal had only served to become the source of his irritation and he squeezed you harder, fixing you with a determined stare that could only have been described as no less than peering into your soul.
You had ignored the red flags and were getting your just rewards.
“Sho- stop that hurts!”
“Reeeeeally Okaa-san?!” He quipped with insincere concern “It hurts more when you don’t care for me…”
It was at this bitter intonation that you’d scrambled back in shock and had prepared your body’s primal function of flight in the direction of the nearest exit.
But were you really going to run away from him? Shoyo, your own child, the coolness of your eyes and springtime in the haggard winter of your life?
Yes, yes you were.
And you would have gotten away with it too, had not the subject of your internal conflict taken advantage of your moment’s irresolution. For in a ginger blur of motion you were on the ground, he had taken a hold of your leg…
SNAP
He roughly covered your mouth to silence the scream, pinning you down with the weight of his own body as hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks. The pain was excruciating, but you wouldn’t feel it for long, as with a swift hook to the jaw you were out cold. It hurt for him to have to utilize violence on the one he cherished; however, it’d seem a tad counterintuitive for him to give you the opportunity to run away.
You’d forgive him, you’d come around. You always did.
He’d swept you up and carried you to the large basement of the house, gently placing you on a worn settee; sickly ochre in colour - the one you’d been meaning to dispose of for years. His actions were soft and caring and his thoughts clouded almost entirely with his overwhelming love for you.
In passing hours he observed your peaceful state mindfully as his core pulsated in the cosy warmth of his rib cage, imagining what a future found solely in each other’s embrace would hold… eventually you’d stay of your own accord, he reasoned. He’d have no need to harm you or to keep you under the low, flickering lights of the basement. Defiance would become a thing of the past. You’d realise how happy you are he’d made the decisions for you, both of you, together…
“Why?” That was a question you sometimes took to asking yourself; more out of pure, unadulterated boredom than anything else. Something you’d already explored the answer to but thought it better to keep your mind occupied with trivial matters than to succumb to insanity (or the intensifying ache of your battered legs).
On that same note, though, contact with the world outside wasn’t the only thing he’d severed.
At the time, such an observation had very nearly made you laugh (and you could probably blame it on the fact that you’d always been quite partial to the more gruesome forms of satire). It was in an impulsive burst of inappropriate and rather facetious humour that you’d wanted to entertain yourself in the recital of depressing hymns (expected, given the nature of your surroundings), to congratulate your stupidity and wallow deeper into the marshes your own self-pity; only to be met with the simple fact that you didn’t have the option.
Your tongue? Gone.
And it hadn’t been the work of the proverbial cat, but your own son, who – cheery as always – had explained that it was another necessary action to stop you from hurting yourself, done behind the ever-wise teaching that prevention was indeed, better than cure. Could you not see he only wanted what was best for you?
It was then you were sure he’d dangerously distorted his self-awarded role as your protector and had lost his mind.
“Okaa-San, Its aright…” He beamed whilst you’d engaged in silently cursing your weak will “You won’t feel a thing!” - he flashed a guilty smile - after I knock you out…again.
And you didn’t. He’d sutured the wound (with what you really didn’t want to know) and made sure you didn’t choke on your own life juices, patching you up like the loving, doting son that he is… It was your job not to worry about the extremity of his actions, as a mother that should do everything in their power to put their beloved’s mind at ease.
Saved from the fate of Exsanguination… shows how much he adores you right? Not that you'd had half the courage or audacity to end your own life in such a macabre fashion, but even if you hadn’t been relieved of the burden of speech; you weren’t one to shatter another’s fantasies - especially if they were high school athletes with inhuman amounts of strength.
In the passing weeks, your mind had dawned upon the realisation that no one was coming to save you - and did you even need saving? – for your parents were far too busy, friends far too distant and dashing officer that’d do everything in his power far too non-existent. Shoyo was the only one who had cared for you, providing you with physical and emotional sustenance you’d never thought you needed - maybe for the reason that he had made himself the only source.
Another thing you’d come to realise, this time regarding unintelligible murmurs, is that they are very much open to interpretation. So even though his barrage of saccharine words were met with your limited arsenal of what might be considered responses, they been understood as absolute agreement, alongside the reciprocation of his affections. Which, to be honest, wasn’t that far off from the truth, as it was by that point, you’d learned the path of resistance was futile and that you were beginning to get used to (and even bask in) the flattery and praise he showered you with, silently and psychologically solidifying the notion that he was yours and you were his.
“You’ll stay with me forever right, Okaa-San?”
He giggled, placing a soft, lingering kiss upon your lips as if he were certain of your answer. And so were you. However, when he looked at you, tenderly caressing your form there was something amiss, a dormant hunger that hadn’t been there before, one that when coupled with the intensity he’d always regarded you with gave birth to towering waves of nausea and accentuated the persistent throb of your injured legs as if in subtle warning…
But you could deal with that later.
Because, despite the fact that his, short, brilliant orange hair had grown long and luscious with time and his scrawny figure had evolved into a mass of lean muscle, he still looked to you … like he did the first day he entered your care. Young, innocent and without fault. Unfairly dealt a bad hand and with you tasked to be the provider of everything he never had. So, as per the contract signed…
You nodded.
After all, what was a guardian without unconditional devotion to their child?
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sadachmesarthim · 3 years
Text
bingo fill two: cum fetish
content: peter being a Sudden Service Top, shy!tony, tony being an Absolute Whore 
hope you enjoy <333 
Peter was nothing, if not a man of science. Above all else, he cared about thorough investigation and novel discovery.
So when he realized what a cumslut Tony Stark was... He decided to experiment.
They hadn't been together long - they'd danced around each other for years, finally caving when Peter finished undergrad. It was a comfortable type of love - something you see in old movies, or cheesy romance novels.
But the sex... Jesus christ, the sex.
Peter hadn't had much time for... self discovery, while in school. Between patrol, double majoring in biochem and genetics, and maintaining a semidecent sleep schedule, there wasn't really opportunity for him to date or fuck around.
So when he came back to Manhattan, and they finally quit mooning over each other... needless to say, Tony hadn't had that much sex since his twenties.
It was generally kind of nice. Tony was sweet, gentle in his love making. Peter preened under the attention, sure - there was nothing wrong with their sex life. But Peter could tell Tony wanted something different.
When he brought it up, Tony turned bright red, stumbling over his words.
"It's not... There's nothing wrong, honey, really, I promise. I just... Sometimes I wish I was in your... position." This left Peter confused. "You... You want to bottom?" He'd never mentioned anything about it before.
Peter's tone didn't help Tony's blush, nor did it make him feel better about the whole ordeal. "Listen it's not... It's not an issue really and I don't... I don't have to. Seriously, if you're not comfortable we-" Peter stopped him mid sentence.
"Okay, no, that's not what I said at all. I just didn't know what you meant, Tony, let's take a step back." His hands immediately went to Tony's shoulders, bringing the older man back to the present. Grounding. "I love you, you know that right?"
Tony relaxed in his grip, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know, and I love you too. I just... It's embarrassing." Peter cocked his head, still not following. "You gotta use your words, T, or I can't give you what you want."
He closed his eyes, thumbs stroking over Peter's knuckles. He could do this, he could do this.
"I... So you know how you got bit by the spider, right?" Peter was very aware. He was also aware of just how bad Tony was stalling.
"Tony if you don't just spit it out I swear to go-"
"I want to see how much cum you can fit inside me!" He broke. With Peter holding him, right up in his face, he couldn't do it, couldn't hold it in anymore.
He slid to his knees, head falling into his hands. "I just... You can go so much, and sometimes when I'm fucking you I get to thinking.. How many times could you go in one night? How much could you produce? A few ounces? A cup? More? Makes me cum so quick just thinkin' about it, even in my old age. Can't stop thinkin' about it, about you fillin' me up like that. I can't do it anymore.
"It makes me feel like a gross old man, you know? Thinking about you like that? About you using me like a toy? It drives me crazy but I can't stop, can't keep it in anymore." He was shaking, unable to stop himself once he started.
Peter's eyes were wide, mind racing to process what Tony was saying. The bite had impacted their sex life - he could rebound almost instantly, and he did... produce more than the average twenty-something.
He sat down next to Tony, cradling him. "That's all you had to say, baby, it's okay. Shh shh, you're okay." he rubbed circles into Tony's shoulder, kissing his temple. "You know I'd never judge you for wanting something, right?"
Tony sighed. He knew that, logically, of course. His anxiety around admitting it didn't listen to logic, though, and it was hard to override that. "I know. I know. I love you. I'm sorry for freaking out."
Peter just kissed him again. "It's okay, T."
•|||•
Peter waited a few weeks before bringing it up again - both for Tony's benefit, and his.
He'd spent a long time digging through medical journals, doing independent research... He even made a (very awkward) call to Dr. Strange.
It didn't take him long to create a game plan: he needed to double his water intake, get more leafy greens and ripe fruit in. It wasn’t difficult - he had to shift around some of his calories, sure, but he made it work.
The worst part was not orgasming. He and Tony'd resumed their normal sexual activities a few days after their... discussion. But Peter made it a point not to cum - he wanted to build up as much as possible.
Even worse - he was edging himself several times a day. Massaging his prostate, sleeping with Tony, jerking off until just on this side of orgasm in the shower... He made it a point to work himself up and then leave himself there. He'd read several articles that talked about edging and semen production, and they all agreed - the less you cum, the more you produce and retain.
So he went with it. For the better part of a month - he didn't cum.
Tony, initially questioned it - but with some solid reassurances, and promises that Peter had "something exciting" in store, he let up. Getting him on the edging process was fun too - enough spice to keep Tony entertained until Peter was ready.
And ready, he was.
•|||•
He decided on a Friday night - that way they'd have all weekend to recover (or continue, if Tony wanted).
He made a real spectacle of it, too - stocking them with water bottles and easy snacks, bringing in a bunch of clean towels and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He wanted this to be good for Tony, and part of that was being ready for anything.
He waited until Tony was finished with work to bring it up. He didn't want Tony to be distracted at all, and he knew exactly how much anticipation can hinder daily activities.
When Tony walked through the doors of the penthouse, he could tell something was up.
It wasn't like Peter to be so... Flighty.
He was walking circles around the bar, drink in hand. Tony couldn't tell whether or not it was a drink drink, but it didn't matter... If Peter was up and pacing like this, there was definitely something up.
"Hey baby, how was your day?" Okay, yeah, something's definitely up. Peter never asked - he always waited for Tony to start - always gave Tony the opportunity to either vent about, or forget entirely, the day he'd just finished.
Tony dropped his suit jacket on the bar chair, walking back to meet Peter where he stood. He grabbed Peter's face in his hands, kissing down from his forehead to his lips. Peter sighed into the contact, relaxing immediately. "It was okay. What's got you all tense like this?"
Peter exhaled sharply before responding. "You know how you... brought up that thing, a few weeks ago? That thing you wanted to try?" Tony hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I... Yeah. Why?"
Peter blushed under the scrutny. "I've... Well, you know how I've been working on that thing? Not... not coming? I wanted to surprise you... And I think today'd be a good day." Tony was confused now. "You... you wanna try it? Topping, I mean?"
Peter snorted. "Not just topping, silly. That thing you specifically mentioned - seeing how much I could make, for you? I've been keepin' myself on edge, saving up all my cum for you." Tony shivered, goosebumps forming down the entire length of his arms. Peter's breath left his hair on edge, his words burning straight through Tony.
"I... I remember. Are- are you sure? Like I said, I mean, we don't hav-" Peter cut him off almost immediately.
"If I didn't want to do it, baby, why would I bring it up? Why would I spend almost a month edging myself for you? Why would I spend a month intentionally eating semen-enhancing foods, hmm? You think I was doing all that stuff for the hell of it?" Tony blushed at the words, head dropping to Peter's shoulder. "No, of course not, I ju-"
"You need to stop making excuses." Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have brought it up. Wouldn't have spent so long making sure I was full enough, had enough for you. You know how long it's been since I've cum, T, baby? Twenty seven days. It's been twenty seven days of edging, of producing this-" he reached down, gently cupping his own balls through his shorts "- for you? All of this cum, just waiting for you, waiting for your pretty hole?" Tony shivered at the words. Fuck, Peter knew exactly how to work him up.
"I'm sorry, baby, I just- this is a lot. So much, Pete, you gotta know that." His vulnerability was aparent.
"I know, Tones. We can go slow if you want - we won't do anything. Just want to show you i'm willing." Peter's tone was gentle, reassuring. It helped Tony immesurably.
"I- okay. I want to. Try, I mean. I trust you, we just gotta.. Gotta go slow. I'm an old man, you know." Peter knew it was said in jest, but Tony would always have a soft spot in his heart. "Not that old," he poked.
Tony bit back with a kiss, forgoing words he wasn't sure he could find. It was slow, soft at first - a thank you for everything Peter did for him, for the whole situation.
Peter responded eagerly, taste of grenadine and carbonation on his lips. Thank god, he hadn't been drinking. Something Tony'd always appreciate - Peter's sober excitement. The energy he put into their relationship. The devotion. He balanced Tony out perfectly. 
Peter nipped at his bottom lip. It was sweet - playful, but it made the whole thing so much more intense. Tony responded in kind, licking into his mouth. He pulled a quiet moan from Peter, seizing the opportunity to meet the other's tongue. Passion always took a while to build with them - reverence and love always taking priority.
Today, though... Today was different.
Tony's mind was still going steady, trying to process exactly what they were about to do. Peter really wanted to try this with him. It was groundbreaking.
He felt the excitement burn low in his stomach. He'd always had a thing for cum - whether it was his inside someone, or vice versa - there was just something so visceral about it. Watching it slowly drip from someone's hole, sucking it out, sharing it. The idea of breeding someone, of being bred, having cum forced inside him over and over again, without consequence...
He'd tried to keep his love for it under wraps - Pepper had no real want for children, and god forbid he get wrapped up in a custody battle. He hadn't messed around with other men since his twenties, either, so the opportunity to explore this side of him just... never came up.
But now, with Peter - his most beloved supertwink with a refactory period of, like, -1, and his enhanced output... the possibilities washed over him.
He hadn't realized just how turned on it made him until Peter separated them, hands toying with Tony's waistband. The sudden lack of lips on his gave him the opportunity to express his appreciation - several broken moans escaping him. "Oh god, Peter, baby please."
He never claimed to be above begging, but he didn't do it often. It was a sight to behold, and with Peter being on a hair trigger...
Peter reached up, grabbing Tony by the throat. "What do you want, love? Use your words, tell me. Can't give you what you want if you don't use your words, Tony."
Tony dropped his head, gasping into Peter's neck. "Please, Peter, baby. I need you to fuck me."
Peter laughed, breathy. "Can't hear you, baby. Come on, come up and tell me what you want."
Tony looked up, shaky exhale falling onto Peter's lips. "I. Need you. To fuck me. Please, Pete?" His request was met with a smile. "Of course, baby."
Peter reached down and hooked under Tony's thighs, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Tony often forgot about Peter's strength when they weren't in the field - feeling weightless like this, safe in Peter's arms? It was erotic, it was safe, it was everything. "Oh, god."
Peter took them to the bedroom, carefully setting Tony down on the bed.
Tony reached his arms up, snaking around Peter's neck. He brought them together for another kiss, not wanting to lose contact with Peter.
Peter chuckled, carefully peeling Tony away from him. "We can't do this if you don't let me get naked, T. Be patient." Tony rolled his eyes, allowing his fists to fall back to the bed. "Been patient, need you now." Peter tossed his shirt to the floor before dignifying Tony with a response.
"Don't talk to me about patient, mister. I've gone almost a month without coming, how do you think I feel?" He finished removing his jeans, leaving him in nothing but strained boxer briefs. Tony could see the outline of his cock, already leaking. He was nearly as hard in his own pants - which he was suddenly excited to remove.
Peter, perceptive as always, walked toward Tony and began helping him strip. Now shirtless, Tony reached up to place his hands on Peter's chest. He planted small kisses all over it, worshipping the man in front of him. Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, enjoying the attention. "I thought this was about you, baby. Why you takin' your time with me?"
Tony looked up, smiling at the man above him. "Just thankful, is all. Love you." Peter cupped the sides of his face, reaching down and kissing Tony reverently. "Anything for you, baby. Anything. Now, let's get you out of those pants." Tony fiddled with his zipper, tugging the slacks down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. Now in a similar state as Peter, he felt so much more open, exposed. They were really about to do this. Peter had prepared for this. His dream was finally coming true.
He inhaled sharply, feeling the flush of arousal reach his cock. It was so intense, so much all at once - he felt high. This was definitely not an experience he planned on forgetting anytime soon.
Peter straddled him, shifting them back and up the bed. He met Tony halfway, sighing into the kiss. It was firey, full of hunger - neither really wanted to wait anymore.
Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "Are you ready? You sure about this?" Tony nodded his head, mind too cloudy to use words right away. He was ready about this, so fucking ready.
His face must've said everything - Peter quickly helped him out of his boxers, sliding them down and tossing them next to the towels. He grabbed the bottle of lube he set out, wetting his fingers thoroughly before reaching down.
Tony'd opted to lay on his front, knees tucked under his hips for better access. Thank god for a nanite bed - they'd developed the tech to aid healing times and recovery after surgery and intense (battles) workouts, but quickly discovered the many sexual uses for it - one of which being added support for Tony's joints.
Peter traced over his hole, toying with him a moment. He very rarely topped in general, but he'd be willing to do it for the rest of his life if it meant he could see Tony like this. He was already so sensitive, gasping and rocking back into the attention. Peter laughed, gripping Tony's hip harder and steeling him before teasing his rim. He was so gentle - just barely dipping in with his index finger before massaging around and pulling back out. He wanted this to be good for Tony, not just a check off his bucket list.
Tony keened, hips pushing back into Peter's fingers. Greedy. "Relax, T. Let me do the work, okay baby?" All he received was a high whimper in response.
Peter laughed, rolling his eyes as he finally gave Tony what he wanted - he thrust two fingers in, careful not to go too deep to fast. Tony moaned, pitchy and high in his throat. It was so much better than he remembered.
Peter kneaded Tony's ass with his free hand, mouthing praise into his beautiful cheeks. Who knew he'd be such a service top? Peter certainly didn't, but he was definitely enjoying it.
He twisted his fingers, feeling around for Tony's prostate. When he found it he pushed, gently, redirecting his attention toward giving Tony the best prostate massage of his life. Tony instantly jumped, gasping into the sensation. Peter's fingers were just long enough to reach, just dextrous enough to keep him on edge. Tony fisted at the sheets, at Peter's shoulder - it was so much. Why did he ever stop bottoming?
He rediscovered his voice shortly after. "Fuck, Pete baby please, need you to fuck me now. Wanna cum on your cock, can't wait anymore. Please baby, please, need you." He was babbling, desperate and not willing to hide it anymore.
Peter, nearly as fucked out, conceeded. They were planning on going multiple times tonight, anyway, why not get the first orgasm out of the way? He pulled his fingers from Tony, wiping them off on one of the nearby towels. Good job, Parker.
Tony whined at the emptiness, still so unabashedly needy. Peter smiled to himself. He'd never seen Tony like this before, and he was so happy he was the one to do this to him. Tony was known for his stoicism and poker face - for Peter to be able to tear that wall down so easily? It was a pride point, for sure.
He reached for the bottle of lube again, coating himself in the cool liquid as he stroked. It didn't take much to get him ready - he felt like he'd been hard for eons, and wasn't thrilled with the whole "waiting" thing.
Peter rubbed over his hole again, smirking when Tony instinctively clenched around nothing. He sat up on his knees, easing himself into the man in front of him. Tony immediately dropped from his elbows, moaning as Peter sank all the way inside. It was so much better than he'd imagined - Peter wasn't particularly lengthy or girthy, but it felt like he was made for Tony. Designed specifically to fuck into Tony's hole, and to wreck him as he did it.
It literally brought Tony to his knees, arching back into Peter's touch and begging him to move. "Please, Peter, baby, give it to me. I can take it, whatever you give me, please, just please I need you to move. I need you to fuck me, baby, please."
it was enough to convince Peter. He pulled back, forcing himself all the way back with a quick snap of his hips. Tony moaned, broken and desperate. It was slowly becoming his mo - who knew Tony Stark was such a slut for his baby's cock, for his cum?
Apparently Peter'd been thinking out loud. He tended to do that during sex - couldn't keep his mouth shut, and whatever "filter" he had completely flew out the window. "Yeah? You like it when I fuck you, T? Like the idea of me cumming inside your pretty little hole? Wanna feel my cum leak out of you, baby? How much do you think i'll give you today, hmm? You do the math on it? I did. I did a whole fuck ton, just to see how much I'd give you.
"You wanna know how much cum I'll give you, T? Hmm? Math says it'll be 1000 mils the first time, can you imagine that? One thousand mililiters of cum, in your pretty little hole. Leaking out, drippin' all down your thighs? You're such a slut, can't even stay tight long enough to hold my cum inside. What a little cockslut, you are. Who would've thought?
"We already know how many times I can go. What was our max, like 8? Imagine eight of those fat loads inside you, love. Can you feel it? Can you feel me inside you? You're so tight, Tony, but you won't be when I'm done with you. No, I'm gonna stuff you full and leave you like this, leave you to feel as it runs out of you.
"Or maybe, maybe, I'll leave you here. I'll wipe you off, get you all clean. Then maybe I'll run over, grab one of our plugs. Plug your pretty little ass, leave you full of my cum. How about that? You like the sound of that?"
He did, by god Tony did. The sound of it, the sheer idea of being so full, so heavy with Peter's cum inside him... being plugged, and left to suffer..
It had him cumming embarassingly early. Tony typically prided himself on his stamina - stamina that was nonexistent with Peter's words.
He came, slack and broken, with Peter's name on his lips. He felt his own cum splatter on his stomach. It was pathetic, it was nothing compared to what Peter was going to give him. It was humiliating in the best way imaginable.
Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he felt Tony tighten through his orgasm. It was too much, he was so on edge after waiting so long.
It was nearly painful when he finally came. He could feel his balls tighten, feel the fluid flowing through him and spraying out the other side. He felt like a fucking firehose, orgasm lasting nearly a full minute.
He felt like a popped balloon after, useless after being so thoroughly empty.
It was made perfectly fine, though, by Tony's rising stomach.
This might have been the first load, and it was probably going to be the biggest of them all, but Peter was still shocked at just how much of an impact it made. Tony's stomach grew, near a solid inch as Peter continued pumping into him. The more he thrust, the larger he got - Peter continued to thrust into him until it was painful.
When he pulled out, a healthy amount surged from Tony's abused hole, covering the sheets beneath them. Peter snagged a towel in time to catch it, not wanting it to soak through to the mattress. It took several to handle the mess in front of him, and by the time he was done Tony was nearly asleep.
Peter stood, walking over to their dresser. He opened the top drawer, removing one of their smaller plugs. There was zero resistence when he slid it inside Tony, preventing the rest of him from escaping.
Tony hummed, content. "When do you think you'll be ready to go again? Because I definitely need a nap." He hadn't opened his eyes, but he still blindly reached out for Peter.
He smiled, sinking down into Tony's arms. "Wake me up when you do. I'll be ready."
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Note
Hello, dear stranger i admire <3. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to make an ABC Prompt with the letters F, N, O, Q and T for Napoleon Bonaparte of IkeVamp :3, feel free to skip a letter if you think I exceeded jsjs. If you can do it then well and if you can't then it's also okay (English is not my main language so I apologize if I'm not understood somewhere) I send you a psychological hug as far as you are <3
!!!! Hello friend!! Please don't worry, I'll be answering all of these :D
And you're just fine, sweetums, you communicate yourself beautifully! muah muah, sending virtual hugs to you too!!! 💚💚💚💚
I do apologize for the long wait, but I hope you enjoy these!
Family – Does he want one?
Is that even a question, nunuche???
All jokes aside, the answer I think is yes, absolutely. He really does take to children very well, and lives to protect and teach them how to survive. He has a knack for inspiring confidence, a steadfast presence that makes people feel safe and loved and proud. He knows when to encourage and when to let people stand on their own two feet–and that’s a pretty crucial skill when it comes to parenting/mentoring.
That being said I think it will be a challenge for him to remember that not everybody is like him, sometimes. To be brave and fierce is admirable surely, but it’s important to remember that not everybody will share those qualities. If disagreements ever arise, I think it’ll be because he might need reminders that the solutions/approaches that worked for him might not always work for his child.
But he’s also aware of how much a person learns by doing things themselves and messing up a few times. With a bit of patience–and reassurance from MC–he’ll find the strength to take a step back. Children need to find their own answers, and so it must be, he’ll make his peace with that somehow.
(If there’s one thing he never hopes for his child, it’s the sight of war…)
As for when, I feel like it would be fairly soon in the relationship? I don’t think he would ever feel comfortable rushing his MC, but easily within the first few years together he’d be cool with it. He’s just kind of the ultimate caretaker energy, reliable but not a stick in the mud either :D
No MC this isn't because he wants to chase little kiddies around the house and make them giggle and shriek--
Nightmare – What is his worst fear?
Please, God, don’t make me kill again.
While Napoleon is very rarely a man ruled by fear, he can easily admit that his worst nightmare is always about losing his loved ones (namely MC). Or outliving MC, as he inevitably will. But I suppose that’s a bit of an obvious answer, yes? Let’s dig a little deeper (shoves trowel into his brain)
I sense a few great fears that plague him.
He’s a man grounded by his capability to protect that which he loves; if he loses the capacity to do that, he would be utterly devastated. I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t want others protecting him, or that he would grow bitter and resentful if he couldn’t. I think it’s more just the nature of his life and identity? He has devoted himself to the protection of innocents, and he lives to serve. He acts as a bodyguard/guard, helps children, seeks justice for the dispossessed. A man like that would wither under immense incapacity, and the thought unnerves him sometimes.
Expanding on that, I see him very wary of hurting MC via his bloodlust. While he has a great deal of control and rarely ever lapses, I think he is constantly aware of his loss of humanity. Even if MC loves and trusts him, there’s a part of him that will always fear being the reason MC comes to harm. It goes against everything he believes in, and against the vow he made.
And last, but certainly not least, is his general desire for peace to last. He doesn't want a world plagued by pain, the way he knew it. If there's anything he would move heaven and earth to accomplish, it would be to keep MC away from that level of violence and destruction.
Sometimes it keeps him up at night, sometimes he just has to take a deep breath and banish the possibility from his mind. On days where it feels impossible, he'll be clingier than usual--silently drawing her close in his embrace. After a short while MC will recognize what it means, protests at the suddenness dying in her throat as she strokes his hair gently. Let him linger a little, indulge him just this once won't you, nunuche? He doesn't have the heart to talk about it...
Oddity – What’s a quirk he has?
(I mean…of the like 500 we already know about? Man that’s a tall order)
Back during his soldat days, he actually got his pinkie finger more or less crushed while moving a cannon. It healed just fine, but because of the damage it doesn’t bend quite right anymore. Rather than the fluid stretch people recognize when they unfurl and clench their fists, his pinky only has two modes–rigidly straight or bent. It doesn’t bother him all that much but alas he will never live his lifelong dream of playing the flute (kidding, nunuche, what do I know about music).
Quality Time – How does he like to spend time with her?
Honestly, I feel like he’s the kind of man contented with just about any kind of time with her. Whether he’s just helping her with chores to stay close, they���re on a date, or just cuddling in bed. He will admit that time spent where her full attention is on him is preferable, if he had to choose.
He also loves the sight of her when they’re playing with/mentoring the kids. She gets such a warm, sweet look on her face when she indulges them–and even when she’s feeling out of her depth, she gets the cutest stymied look. While he tries not to intervene too much (he knows she can handle it) he often finds himself ruffling her hair and telling the kids to stop giving her such a hard time.
Time – How long did it take for them to get together?
Honestly? I’m ngl, Napoleon did always feel like a slow burn type of guy, largely because of the extent of the healing he needs to do in his life. He’s not really against the idea of a relationship, more just really burned himself out during his human life. The inevitable result of that is needing somebody who can help him understand that he is more than just his usefulness, that it’s okay to grieve no matter how pointless it may feel.
When a person has known so much horror and loss and loneliness, it’s only natural they would need time to accept the opposite. My best bet would probably be a few months, if not a year, before he betrays any indication of love. I also feel like it’s the result of his personality; he’s not the type of man for flings or half-hearted confessions, I think. He prefers a steady, devoted commitment to another person. And he has a sharp eye for who it is that he wants–now it’s just a matter of fighting that internalized denial of happiness.
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stillness-in-green · 2 years
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MVA In Memoriam (3/5)
The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia
(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia) (Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party)
Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade
Chapter 229 – All It Takes Is One Bad Day
• The full first page, of Jin getting mobbed by Puppet!Jins, them tearing his mask off, and flinging it and then him away. Saved them a bit of budget, I suppose, but it’s a shame to lose the drama and the violence of Twice having his mask pulled away, since it’s decent foreshadowing (indeed, possibly intentionally so, on Skeptic’s part) for the violent bewilderment he’ll be subject to shortly.
• Re-Destro’s line, “Not when he’s using his meta-ability to puppeteer, unless you want another nagging lecture.” They didn’t keep the first nagging lecture, so of course they wouldn’t keep this. I’m still annoyed, both on general principle and at the loss of RD’s implication that these nagging lectures are a regular occurrence, especially if one tries to bother Skeptic when he’s using his meta-ability. Has RD himself been on the receiving end of one? Possibly so! But you’d be less likely to think so just from the anime.
• Re-Destro’s line, “This allowed our warriors to momentarily hold back and stay out of danger.” Because why would the audience need to know that Skeptic planned for and Re-Destro cares enough to observe something like that lol?? Obviously the MLA is perfectly content to just throw their peoples’ lives away because, whatever, more where that came from! Dammit, anime, the fandom believes this enough as it is without confirmation bias from your cuts!
• Skeptic’s “fufufu” laugh, because the anime is allergic to the MLA having fun.
• The police officer’s line, “Sure, but in a case like this, you’re still to blame.” The rest of the exchange hints at it, of course, but there’s a horrifying callousness to a police officer just saying straight to the face of a teenaged orphan facing his first offense, “Yes, you were obeying the law perfectly and this guy just ran out in front of you, but it’s going on your criminal record anyway, whatever.” A weight the anime lost, and another that makes me very suspicious of the patterns behind what, precisely, was put on the chopping block.[1]
• Jin’s narration, “That police officer couldn’t have known. Me neither.” Demonstrates that Jin doesn’t really hold his fall against the one policeman. It’s a consistent thread with Jin’s character that, while he’s very jaded, he’s not actually vengeful, nor is he looking to enact systemic change. While he’s very defensive of his friends, people who hurt Jin himself are never in any real danger of him coming to collect his pound of flesh in return; he just rolls with it as part of how the world works, in the way of someone who was never given reason to believe any different. This line is a good example of that.
• From Jin’s old employer’s angry rant, deletes the note that the client that called is angry, and that the client said, “That young punk of yours did this!” It’s nothing that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the conversation, but I do I think cutting it loses a sense that this guy is just unloading all of his frustration and fear on Jin. The length of the screed, the extra details—it clearly communicates that Jin’s boss is so angry and upset he’s not paying any real mind to filtering, but just recounting every point of contention the moment they come into his mind.
• In modern society, when you’re someone without roots… Well, not a lot of people can relate to that.” It isn’t just the police that failed Jin; it’s a whole society that’s distrustful of people who don’t have a place in the fabric, and thus are unwilling to try and bring them into it. Like Tenko, there are a thousand little places where someone could have reached out a hand, but no one ever did. The audience can intuit this, but I feel it’s better to be clear about it—it’s not just the legal system that screwed Jin over; it’s every other person that never tried to help him because they were afraid of his eyes or distrusted a guy who had no connections. When Shigaraki comes, he’s not going to be coming for heroes alone; he’ll be coming for this entire tapestry of indifference and timidity.
• Skeptic’s lines, “Hrm? Fighting back? I was sure he’d either flee or cower in place... We didn’t anticipate such unity between them.” This gets at two things. Firstly, and once again, that the MLA did their research; that they came into this with educated expectations and a definite plan. Secondly, an in-character observation of what the arc has been showing the audience all along: that the League isn’t just a disparate gang of hoodlums anymore; that they’re developing real bonds. Those bonds mark them as unusual—Re-Destro comments on it in 223, as did Overhaul in 147; even Mr. Compress remarks disapprovingly on Twice’s “habit” of getting overly attached to people. It’s striking that, even though the MLA knew from Giran’s records that the League was uncommonly well-bonded, Twice’s devotion still fell outside Skeptic’s parameters.[2]
• Again Skeptic’s line, “Now his legs.” The drones don’t actually get this far (though you can see them gearing up for it on the next page), so it’s a reasonable enough cut, but it does emphasize the ludicrous, over-the-top extremes Skeptic in particular is willing to go to in securing what he wants. If, you know, “Kidnap the doubler so we have a method to make copies of the Grand Commander at our leisure,” wasn’t bonkers enough.
• Twice’s line, “Even against Gigantomachia!” It really highlights just how much mental energy Twice has been dedicating to avoiding injury, that he was able to keep it in mind even fighting a foe as overwhelming, and for as extended a period, as Machia. And like, the anime blitzed over the Machia fight so quickly, and with so little visible wear and tear to the League, that it really could have used all the reminders it could find room for about how intense those six weeks were.
• Twice’s line, “I won’t watch a friend die!” Such an important line that the composer named an entire track for it, not that the anime gave us that track in the moment it was clearly scored for. They added in a new line later in the scene which mostly gets the important sentiments back in, but loses out in being slightly less fitting to his breakthrough. See the Additions portion of the write-up on Chapter 230, following.
Framing Shifts
• The policeman in Jin’s flashback looked up at him in the anime, where in the manga, his eyes stay down on his paperwork the entire time. I realize that anime can’t just still-frame every panel of a manga and call it an adaptation,[3] so characters will do things like move and look around in different directions just in the course of inhabiting a room, Still, in this case, it has the effect of making the officer look more alert and engaged than he was in the manga, and given that this whole chunk of backstory is about Jin slipping through the social safety net, it feels appropriate to me that the officer should be completely checked out.
Additions
• A new shot of Jin(s) in his pre-massacre doppelganger army days. Didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know—it’s little more than a new angle of the gang in the truck—but it was nice to see.
Bonus Note
• They left Re-Destro’s phrase, “My company,” alone when he was talking about the micro-transceivers Skeptic was using. That’s accurate to the manga, but I’d like to remind everyone that, at that point in the anime, viewers whose only reference is the anime itself have no idea that Re-Destro is a businessman. The show skipped the commercial, RD’s intro, the dinner scene where his company comes up, and Giran’s association of RD with Detnerat; it will further go on to skip Shigaraki recognizing him from the commercial. The news report mentioning Detnerat was ten full episodes prior to Episode 110, and was followed up on in not the faintest degree. For heaven’s sake, would it have been so hard to have Hirata Hiroaki say, “My Detnerat’s,” instead of just, “My company’s”?
Chapter 230 – Sad Man’s Parade
• Deleted the MLA members that are attacking Compress as they get pushed off by the Twice wave. Not the first time, and not the last, that the anime didn’t animate the random MLA people on the street. It’s hard to take the threat of their numbers seriously when the anime kept deleting them from what are supposed to be crowd scenes, you know?
• Mr. C thinking worriedly about Dabi as he’s mulling over Geten’s strength and disregard for catching his own people in the collateral damage. It’s just a, “Dabi—!” but it’s yet another tiny cut that shaves away at the manga’s clear depiction of Leagues’ concern for one another—even Mr. Compress, who claims that such things aren’t very villainous.
Framing Shifts
• Changed the random MLA’s exhortation to kill all the Twices to a generic, “Damn—!” I know American censors have often taken issue with the words “Kill” and “Die” in kids’ cartoons, but I was never of the impression that that was the case in Japan. And it’s not like the show made any bones about Curious planning to kill Toga. A rephrase to save a second and a half on dialogue, maybe?
• Had Skeptic give his lines about failure on the way over to the elevator instead of stalking over in silence, and then dumping the whole monologue all at once. The manga’s extended silence over three identically sized panels is much funnier and more characterful. I grow ever more confident in my assessment of Skeptic as the second-most ill-treated MLA character in this adaptation.
• The return of the Doom Choirs for the Twice Parade. I really wish the anime would lay off slathering Doom Choirs all over everything, especially a moment like this: a triumph for Twice, and, true to form for Twice, also crammed to the gills with visual and verbal gags. The Doom Choir is out of keeping with both the victory and the comedy—Mine Woman, later on, served the Parade much better.
Additions
• Gave Twice a new line, “I will protect my comrades!” It was nice to make up for his, “I won’t watch a friend die!” but the latter is more characterful, especially since a more literal translation is, “I won’t kill my friends!” Which is, you know, relevant to the fact that Twice has problems telling himself apart from things that just look like him, and he just had to intervene to stop some of those look-alikes from killing one of said friends. At least it got his use of nakama back in.[4]
• A new little cut of animation as the action went back to Geten and Dabi. I suppose the Dabi fans liked it, and it was nice to see more of Geten’s ice dragon, but I’d have much preferred they could keep the scenes we already have before adding new ones.
Chapter 231 – Path
The scene of Hawks wondering why he hasn’t heard from Dabi and his subsequent flashback to the last time they spoke were relocated to the beginning of Episode 102, the first thing the audience saw after the prior episode ended with Shouto inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at Endeavor’s. In the manga, of course, it’s not “a few weeks ago in Kyushu,” it’s “meanwhile in Osaka.” Also, the order of the scenes was flipped—the episode led with the flashback, then returned to the modern day. It really makes the timeline needlessly confusing—the viewer has no real context for what we’re seeing and when, especially since the anime neglected to specify how much time passed between the two scenes. You have to assume it was enough time for an outcry to be raised over Jeanist’s disappearance, but the random shot of a bird flying over was not at all helpful there.
          Alterations included (as usual, outright removed material is in bold text):
          1. Cut Hawks’ thought, “That’s why you keep calling,” and his line, “What’s the job?” I know I should give a breakdown here about Hawks’ mentality and training, but I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to complain about any lines Takami Keigo loses. God knows the anime gives him plenty enough bonus material.
          2. Spliced in the flashback scene of Hawks reporting to the Commission from Chapter 243, but subtly changed it to suggest that it took place after the phonecall in which Dabi demanded Hawks kill a non-Endeavor top hero, rather than it taking place right after Hawks and Dabi’s first contact, which is what the manga implies.
          3. Deleted several key shots in the Jeanist apartment scene, with the effect of making Hawks way less creepy. We got an anime-original shot of his eyes, narrow and serious, but not either of the shots of his big, off-putting grin and widened eyes as he pulls a feather-blade on Jeanist. We also lost a shot of Jeanist turning to face him, framed between extended primaries of Hawks’ Fierce Wings. It’s not like the anime dropped the fake!Dead Jeanist plot, so I’m not sure why the shift, unless it’s just that they wanted to keep Hawks likable for the merch-buying crowd, not creepy and unsettling. And while I personally never believed that Hawks really killed Jeanist, a lot of people thought it was plausible, no doubt based on how off-kilter he comes across in this scene. It loses a real frisson, to just play it straight.
• Shigaraki decaying a missile in mid-air. So Dabi can get those little animation flourishes but Tomura can’t, huh, anime? I see how it is. I. See. How. It. Is.
• Spinner’s little side comment about all the ice everywhere. A nice demonstration that Geten and Dabi’s fight really is affecting huge swathes of the city; that’s certainly apparent already in a bunch of the wide shots showing exactly that, but it’s helpful to have the more zoomed-in moments, too. Also, I do enjoy those little side quips wherever we get them, and the anime often removes them.
• Thinned out the crowd guarding the route to the tower somewhat (it’s particularly noticeable on the mid-distance rooftops) and, as best I can tell, removed Shigaraki and Spinner from the shot. Why keep all the lines harping on the 110,000 number when a) it’s not even accurate to the MLA’s forces, just the League’s assumptions, and b) the studio doesn’t even have the resources to adequately convey the numbers the manga does portray?
• Somebody in the crowd being defiant about Twice’s multiplication and vigorously declaring that the League are all just sacrifices for the MLA’s Revival Party anyway. The background nobodies? Allowed to express even bog-standard over-confidence? Well I never. How dare those people think their lives count enough for them to get dialogue.
• Spinner’s, “This keeps happening!” Of course he couldn’t have that line in the anime, since the anime cut the other big place Trumpet clearly used his power to rile up his followers. What other times were you even talking about when you said, “Every time he talks,” Anime!Spinner? That scene was the first time we even saw Trumpet since he welcomed you guys to town.
• Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. He just called him a damn moron (bakayarou) in the anime; he uses the considerably more specific baka kyouso (Google Translate gives “guru”; jisho gives “founder of a religious sect”). He uses the same term again immediately afterward—Viz’s translation gives, “More like chrome dome cult!”—which the anime also deleted.
          So here’s another example of the anime doing everything it could to erase the presence of cults in the HeroAca world. The easy assumption to make is that this was tied to broadcast standards about the depiction of what Japan refers to as “new religious movements,” which—and pardon the brief swerve into real life historical horrors here—have been very unpopular in Japan since Aum Shinrikyo and the sarin gas attacks in 1995. But were these elements removed because the anime didn’t want to represent anything that smacks of new religious movements at all, or because the depiction of both the MLA and particularly the CRC are explicitly villainous and calling religious movements, even made-up ones, evil on TV leads to a lot of angry phone calls?
• Re-Destro’s line, “Unlike my good Miyashita, there’s nothing charming about you.” Of course they’d cut this, having cut the Miyashita scene, but I hate it anyway. As I said earlier, RD’s invocation of Miyashita in front of two people who are going to have not the slightest clue who that is tells me that Re-Destro really does miss and feel bad about killing the guy. Cutting the reminder that RD still feels that sting makes it much too easy to assume that Shigaraki’s right about RD hiding up in his tower, uncaring of the blood shed on his behalf, when if you read Re-Destro with even the slightest of attempts at good faith, it’s clear that those losses weigh very heavily on him.
          Incidentally, and not to harp on the art again, but in the manga, Stress is still visibly spread down from RD’s temple to the ridge of his brow over his eye socket. The anime returned it back to its normal resting state, again suggesting that the death toll mounting in the streets below (as well as, possibly, the new stress of confronting a quirk as powerful as Double) left RD completely unmoved. The spread was back in the following shot, so it was probably just an art error, but it would be nice to have had fewer of those, especially when they impact characterization as much as what RD’s Stress blots are doing at any given time.
Framing Shifts
• Had Machia doing this weird cannonball skim just over the ground, when in the manga, he’s still half-buried, spraying earth and stone everywhere. The manga never namedrops Machia’s Mole quirk during the story itself, but it’s important to know for later that Machia can not only tear through obstacles, he can tear through obstacles extremely quickly.
Additions
• Gave Hawks a few new lines about how too many unexpected things happened for their last arrangement, and that Dabi should have given him more warning. Largely seemed to be there to give the anime an excuse to flashback to the High End fight, in case the viewers had completely forgotten about Hawks and Dabi having a clandestine meeting and sniping at each other in the aftermath of that event. An understandable addition, but deeply frustrating in the context of all the lines that got cut.
Chapter 232 – Meta Abilities and Quirks
• Dropped a third instance of Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. I don’t know what the S&P restriction is on this, but given that the movie was allowed to create and villainize an entire international terrorist cult, it is really incomprehensible that the MLA doesn’t get to keep their designation as such. Why?? Because the movie involves going out and defeating its cult, but the series is going to engage in a more sympathetic treatment?[5] Because the self-selecting movie crowd is less likely to complain than the TV audience? Did they just not want to draw attention to how much the movie was ripping off the MLA’s whole shtick? What??
• Missed that RD’s swole arm swipe wipes out the puppets Skeptic left behind; they just vanished from the scene entirely after Twice’s arrival. It’s hard to blame the anime for this; the manga also seems to lose track of the fact that they’re right there in between RD and the elevator—they’re nowhere to be seen anywhere between the end of Chapter 231 and the aforementioned arm swipe, where you can see them getting obliterated. Both versions could have stood to be more attentive to this; indeed, the anime could have fixed it, small error though it is.
• A sort of twitchy sparking around Shigaraki’s hand right after he decays the tower. This is foreshadowing that Shigaraki’s big AOE decay attacks are hard on his body, which will become extremely apparent after he unleashes it on the city at large during the climax, and factors into his decision to accept the mysterious power Ujiko offers. The damage Shigaraki sustains there doesn’t come out of nowhere; Horikoshi is, on the whole, extremely good at layering in foreshadowing many chapters before the foreshadowed elements come fully to light. It makes the writing look much messier than it actually is—more convenient, more pat—to delete this stuff.
• Shigaraki recognizing RD from the Detnerat commercials. Well, they ditched the Detnerat commercial, so of course they ditched this. Still, it lost one of the indicators that Shigaraki is, despite not receiving a formal education, actually quite up to speed on current events—even, apparently, when those current events are happening while he’s been fighting Machia in an isolated stretch of mountains for six weeks! I already suffer enough through fanon characterizations of Shigaraki in which he’s a basement-dwelling feral manchild glued to his gaming console whom AFO bans from accessing information about the outside world, anime! I don’t need you dropping the scenes that most clearly demonstrate otherwise!!
• In the anime, Baby!Chikara’s face was unmarked, just a normal infant face—you’d never even know the kid had a meta-ability just to look at him. In the manga, the skin of his face is clearly darker, contrasted against the paleness of his mother’s hand. It’s obvious that he’s not “normal” looking, and thus equally obviously would have attracted negative attention in his era.[6] Also had his mother smiling; her face in the manga is too shadowed and vague to make out an expression, befitting the murky tragedy of her story and the fear she must have been living with.
Framing Shifts
Additions
• A little thing: they had Twice echo, “Cushion?” when Clone!Shigaraki told him to get ready to cushion Giran’s fall. If anything, Re-Destro and his little thought-bubbled question mark is probably the one who should have had this reaction line.
• Added a visual for Clone-araki catching himself on the window. A perfectly reasonable way to fill screen time while a dialogue beat was ongoing.
• Added a panning still over a reaction shot from a bunch of Twice clones when the tower came down. It had a few good faces in it.
                                                           ---
So, generally, this episode was better. I definitely still had issues with it, but compared to what came before, when they were trying to cram 5+ chapters into the episodes, there were far fewer cuts, and what cuts and tweaks there were, were relatively minor. Definitely nothing that made me want to throw chairs Jerry Springer-style the way 108 and 109 did.
Sadly, I can't say the same for the remaining two episodes. Come back next time for Part Four, Episode 111: Shimura Tenko, Origin.
FOOTNOTES
[1] After witnessing the massacre that was Episode 108, I was convinced they were going to cut the policeman scene entirely, and just go right to Jin getting fired for hitting someone with his bike, letting the audience think it was his fault completely rather than cast aspersions on police and the justness of the law. I was pleased they kept it at all, but less pleased with the steps taken to soften the sharpness of its accusation.
[2] Of course, it’s not like the MLA themselves don’t understand the willingness to give everything for the people who matter. They just label those feelings Devotion To The Cause, and don’t think the League is capable of such resolution.
[3] Netflix’s Way of the House Husband, be told.
[4] Nakama is, of course, a shonen standby, but, to the best of my knowledge (which is admittedly limited; I don’t follow a lot of shounen series), it’s pretty rare to hear the word coming out of a villain’s mouth! Jin calling the League his nakama ties into how the League are both sympathetic villains in the larger story and also the protagonists of the current arc, thereby operating under a lot of protag tropes for the duration—foreshadowed by Spinner’s earlier talk of Shigaraki and his boyish, dream-chasing eyes.
[5] Sometime after the mass arrests, one hopes.
[6] This could well be a coloring error in the manga, but if so, you’d think they’d have corrected it for the volume release. Especially given that, again, the color is in a different shade/screentone than the shadow that covers most of his mother’s face, and her hand stroking Chikara’s chin isn’t shadowed at all.
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otomegema · 3 years
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title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own
It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.
Or maybe even never.
But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.
Honey
Baby
Future-pretend-love-of-my-life
Have you made a decision?
He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.
You shot back a fast reply.
-oh I’m sorry
-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day
-Some asshat led a curse to me
You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.
\(★ω★)/
YOUR asshat
Should you choose to accept this mission
You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.
-My pretend asshat
-Mother will be so proud
The dots of his reply began immediately.
So is that a yes?
You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.
-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm
The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.
You’re so slow.
The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.
I have other options too.
His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.
So no pressure. Genuinely.
Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.
Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3
You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.
-Ah yes, your finest quality
A quick appearance of dots.
My special grade ranking? (・ω<)☆
You smirked.
-Humility
You’re no fun.
Text me when you are done being boring.
This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.
It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.
Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.
You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.
Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.
But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.
You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.
“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“
“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”
“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”
“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”
There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.
He knew he was about to win.
“Let’s hear it.”
“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?
“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.
“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”
Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”
“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”
Gojo hummed.
“Why me?”
This was an oddly familiar conversation.
“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”
“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.
“Then teach me what I can handle.”
There was another pause.
“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”
The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?
“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”
Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.
You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.
-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.
A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.
V Neck def
Show off what puberty gave ya (^〃^)
Chiffon with ruffle lace
And grey-blue
-Why?
To match my eyes <3
-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours
Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3
-That’s creepy
(つω`。) </3 </3
-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back
It is a gift <3
-How’d you even know my size
A gentleman never reveals his secrets
┐(‘~` )┌
You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.
The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.
You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.
-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.
Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!
-Forget the first-grade rec
-Pay my bills
Too late! Negotiations are closed :)
-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?
Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?
You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.
Plus we gotta go over some ground rules
-Thought you said negotiations were closed
-This mean we can revisit my bills?
g2g
Students need me!
Ttyl babe
The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?
And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.
“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”
And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.
Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.
***
The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.
They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.
You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.
The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.
Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.
You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.
The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.
Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.
You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.
This was gonna suck.
This was gonna suck so bad.
The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.
Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.
You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.
All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.
A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.
He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.
He whistled.
“Ow, ow!”
“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”
“You even drive?”
“Not the point.”
He laughed again, loud and careless.
“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”
He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”
“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.
You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.
There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.
“… where did you even get that.”
“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.
“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”
You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.
“What about you?”
“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.
“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.
“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”
Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”
“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”
You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.
“And when you develop feelings for me—“
“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.
“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.
You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.
You drank your wine.
“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”
You frowned, but didn’t object.
“Wait— what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.
Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.
“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”
“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.
By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.
“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”
Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.
“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.
“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”
“You can’t refuse my gifts.”
Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.
“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.
“What is that.” You stated more than asked.
“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“
You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.
You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?
You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.
“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.
“… I have my own place. Thank you.”
“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”
“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.
“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”
“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”
“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”
The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.
“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”
“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”
“… I’m sorry, you what.”
“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“
“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.
“Is that all?”
“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.
“So what do you think?”
“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.
“I meant about the deal.”
You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.
You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.
“I accept.”
Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.
You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.
The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.
“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.
“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”
You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.
***
The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.
Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.
He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.
Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.
“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”
Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.
The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.
You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.
“Ah ah ah— hands off.”
“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.
Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.
You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.
Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.
He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.
Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?
Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.
A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.
A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.
“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”
“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.
But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.
It made you laugh.
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feralphoenix · 3 years
Text
SONGS OF RESISTANCE: The View Myla Grants Us Of Hallownest’s Moths
hello again hollow knight fandom, i am back with my picante takes and ready to discuss two things i love: myla hollowknight and the moth tribe! Let Us Be Sad About Them Together.
as with my previous essay i’m going to be putting this fellow up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. this time i’ll be attaching that in a reblog to avoid this post getting eaten by the dread tungle algorithms.
CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses colonialism and genocide both in real life and the fictional depictions in Hollow Knight, as well as racism in the zombie horror genre and in fandom.
ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay
SONGS OF RESISTANCE: THE VIEW MYLA GRANTS US OF HALLOWNEST’S MOTHS
In this house we are all love Myla.
Well, in all fairness, there are probably plenty of Hollow Knight fans who aren’t interested in her character, since which fictional characters one attaches to is always a matter of personal preference. But she’s still well-loved for a minor NPC and inspires a high level of devotion in her fans. There’s nothing that whips folks into a frenzy like a cute character you can’t do anything to help, and unlike some other characters in Hollow Knight Myla’s fate leaves no room for ambiguity. Once you pick up the Crystal Heart you’re left with only two choices: Avoid her, or kill her.
A lot of Hollow Knight’s world is designed to make you care about it so that it will hurt more when Ghost’s violent skillset proves too limited to save something or someone. The consequences of Hallownest’s founding and policies have directly or indirectly caused a great deal of damage to everything, and chief among those consequences with massive damage and a wide splash range is the Infection. Much has been said elsewhere by other people about Hollow Knight’s predominating mood being a struggle against futility, with Ghost arriving at the eleventh hour and every new tragedy designed to make the player more desperate to find something actionable, only finding out by trial and error what’s beyond your personal ability to save.
Myla, in that sense, is a typical example of that worldbuilding. She’s a particular kind of stock character in the zombie horror genre, the innocent who falls victim to the plague and cannot be saved, wrenching audience hearts and demonstrating the stakes.
But Hollow Knight plays with the trappings of zombie horror in a very unusual way, one I find thematically fascinating.
For a quick overview, the “zombie” as we know it in popular culture is an appropriation of a voudou (the Black American spiritual practice) concept that deals with the fear of slavery killing one’s spirit. (People more versed in/with roots in voudou culture can give a much more comprehensive overview than this simplistic one.)
The zombie horror genre, especially in Western media, is part of the great white fragility stock plot trifecta (the other two being alien invasions and robot uprisings). Zombie horror in particular expresses white fears that marginalized ethnic groups will rise up violently in revenge for their mistreatment and destroy white society. The fear of “that which is human, which ‘humanity’ is not” (to borrow mecha visual novel Heaven Will Be Mine’s pithy term) and the extreme levels of violence towards human-but-not bodies typical of zombie horror are often an expression of such bigotries. This is, again, a subject that’s been discussed in greater depth and with more nuance elsewhere.
But what Hollow Knight does is take the ugly metaphors and it makes them literal, makes it harder to ignore the toxic subtext of the genre. The Infection is literally a native god’s revenge on the settlers who committed genocide* against her people. How the Pale King’s colonization of the crater negatively affected the preexisting groups of bugs underpins every level of the worldbuilding, as does Hallownest’s cruelty towards its neighbors.
Hollow Knight is a game that is about the tragedy of Western imperialism. It is one of the work’s central themes. There are a lot of conversations that need to be had about the ways these themes manifest and, on a real-world level, about fandom’s predisposition to avoid the subject.
But, for now, let’s get back to Myla. If she fits such a stock zombie horror archetype, and Hollow Knight uses zombie horror tropes to underline the conversation it attempts to have about colonialism, then what has Myla got to teach us about the overall worldbuilding?
There's two topics I’d like to broach here: First we’ll get into how the circumstances of Myla’s infection fit in to the implied role of Crystal Peak in pre-Hallownest society. Then let’s take a long look at the lyrics of Myla’s song and what it implies.
MYLA, THE CRYSTALS, AND THE HOLY MOUNTAIN
If you think about it, Myla is an interesting outlier compared to the other NPCs we encounter on the verge of succumbing to the Infection. Both Bretta and Sly are unhappy: Bretta is a lonely, anxious bundle of abandonment issues yearning for someone to sweep her off her feet; Sly misses his pupils and loved ones who’ve left him in death (we never learn who Esmy is or what they were to Sly, but we sure can tell they’re not around anymore). The temptation to dream away those sadnesses seems to play a part in their vulnerability to the Infection, and also why Ghost’s interruption brings them back to reality.
Not so Myla. She appears to be blissfully unaware of her fellow miners’ fate, and most of her dialogue prior to her infection (besides the song - we’ll get to that later) is about how much fun she’s having at her job and how much she enjoys Ghost’s occasional company.
Yet she still winds up infected when Ghost’s back is turned. Why?
Not to discard the possibility that Myla’s got her own issues too, but in her case there seems to be another likely cause at hand: The crystals. If hit with the Dream Nail before infected, she mentions that she can hear them “singing” and “whispering”.
Under the The Hunter’s Hot Takes section of the Hunter’s Journal entries on various Crystal Peak enemies, we can learn more about the crystals - particularly in the entries for the Husk Miner and Crystallized Husk.
Crystal Peak’s crystals were thought of as particularly precious in Hallownest and harvested en masse for use in luxury items and the like. To do so, the mining operation was set up throughout most of the mountain, though the area around its peak still remains largely untouched. However, there’s more to the crystals than just that. Like Myla, the Hunter notes that the crystals can be heard to sing very very softly if one listens closely enough.
Perhaps of even more interest than that is this particular comment he gives us, from the Crystallized Husk journal entry: “There is some strange power hidden in the crystals that grow up there in the peaks. They gleam and glow in the darkness, a bright point of searing heat in each one.”
I don’t think it’s a particularly revolutionary idea to point out that there’s some connection between the crystals and Radiance’s power; this is something many players have intuited just based on Myla’s dialogue. But, in order to understand what Myla is demonstrating about the game’s world I think it’s important to think about what that connection is.
Speaking of which, the local Whispering Root has two important clues for us: The phrases “light refracted” and “energy contained”.
The very top of Crystal Peak is one of the only places in the crater where the moths’ architecture has escaped Hallownest destroying it, and is the only place in the entire game setting where their religious iconography remains fully intact. There are stone monuments covered in their language (which has been destroyed with the rest of their culture) and the statue of the Radiance - this is easier to see in the Wanderer’s Journal tie-in book, but the huge stone arches upon the Crown represent Radi’s halo and its rays and encircle her when viewed head-on or from a distance instead of the side view we get in the game.
The crystals grown here were used by the moths to store and cultivate Radiance’s light. It’s impossible to know what sort of architecture/infrastructure existed inside the mountain before Hallownest stole it from the moths. But between the massive scope of her statue and all the texts at the Crown, and the fact that the moths were working with their literal actual god’s freely given power here, it can be safely asserted that Crystal Peak was a holy ground to them.
Hallownest didn’t care about the mind-boggling level of spiritual significance Crystal Peak must have had to the natives, though. To the Pale King and his people, the crystals are just a natural resource to be harvested for personal profit.
This is unfortunately a conflict that still plays out in colonized countries today. If you’re American, #NoDAPL probably comes to mind; Canada, Australia, and New Zealand are filled with these sorts of horror stories too. Settler disrespect for indigenous sacred grounds is a huge problem that needs addressing. If you’re looking at the story of Crystal Peak and thinking it’s very on-the-nose... maybe it needs to be.
Anyway, Myla is nowhere near as miserable as Bretta or Sly, but she still notices that something’s up with these crystals. She hears the voice coming from inside, and she’s curious, and she tries very very hard to listen to it... so she DOES end up hearing Radiance’s voice. Radiance’s real voice, not the songs and whispers inside the crystals: The voice of a frightened, angry, grieving god who knows there’s a new vessel running around in Hallownest, and doesn’t want any part of that. A voice that’s pleading for someone, anyone to kill this dangerous creature, and save her from the threat Ghost poses.
Between how freaked out Radi is to know Ghost is poking around, the tendency we see in her boss battles for her to panic and kneejerk blast things at full volume/vibrance when she’s panicking, and the way her dream broadcast seems to be only a one-way communication line while she’s in the Black Egg... naturally this spells disaster for poor Myla.
Similar to the Moss Prophet, this small tragedy is a demonstration of the eleventh-hour state the conflict is in: The Pale King has escalated this situation so far, and Radiance is so traumatized and isolated, that bystanders who might in a kinder timeline have become Radi’s allies instead get caught up in her AOE. Myla’s definitely not as aware of the overall situation as the Moss Prophet, since she’s a Hallownest bug and not an indigenous one the way they are. But she noticed things were not as they seemed, and she was curious. Who knows what new possibilities could have opened up, if Radiance was able to truly communicate with bugs in the outside world?
Small side note before we move on, but I’ve noticed a tendency among some folks who notice the missed connections to come down extra hard on Radiance and chalk Myla’s infection/Moss Prophet’s death down to deliberate cruelty on her part. I’d like to gently push back against this.
Living in a post-colonial world we all absorb some level of prejudice from our surroundings, and it’s important to take a look at our first assumptions about people (or, in this case, fictional characters lol) to examine whether these prejudices we’ve inherited have influenced those assumptions.
So, if your first instinct is to look at this situation and say the problem is that Radiance is being too harsh and too angry where she should have stepped back and softened her emotions for others’ benefit to gently persuade them to her side... Please think about how when people of color and non-Christians express anger or hurt at our treatment, or even so much as calmly assert our boundaries, white/Christian viewers often view us as much more aggressive and threatening than we actually are. The “angry black woman” trope is a good example of this stereotype. You may want to look up the HuffPost article “Why It’s So Hard to Talk to White People About Racism” and its discussion of white fragility to further understand this phenomenon.
It is absolutely essential to remember the complex power dynamics in play in Hollow Knight and that the Pale King deliberately imprisoned Radiance (who had at this point already gone through an extreme amount of trauma) in a way that would compromise her ability to communicate with others. If you can extend compassion to characters like Ghost or the Pale King and empathize with their motives/feelings when their actions cause harm, but you are not willing to do the same with Radiance... it’s important to sit down with yourself and examine why that is.
THE MEANING BEHIND MYLA’S SONG
Okay, let’s switch gears and take a look at the lyrics to the song Myla sings, since it’s got some interesting things to tell us too.
The first verse, which you can hear from Myla the first time you meet her/before you acquire Vengeful Spirit, goes:
Bury my mother, pale and slight Bury my father with his eyes shut tight Bury my sisters, two by two, And then when you’re done, let's bury me too
There’s not much particularly story-related going on here except foreshadowing that Myla may in fact wind up dying. Most of what we get here is that a) this is a song about burying the dead and b) it’s morbid as fuck.
Curious, a new player might think of the mention of burying the dead; there are a lot of corpses just lyin’ around all over the ground - something that might lead one to believe Hallownest didn’t have such a custom. Later players will discover the Resting Grounds, confirming Hallownest did bury its dead... and that the gravekeepers are all dead too.
Let’s look at the second verse, which Myla remembers and will sing after you pick up Vengeful Spirit:
Bury the knight with her broken nail, Bury the lady, lovely and pale Bury the priest in his tattered gown, Then bury the beggar with his shining crown
This right here is where it gets interesting. The first verse describes the singer’s family as dead or dying, but the people we’re burying now sure do have some parallels to Hallownest's ruling body, don’t they?
Among Hallownest’s Great Knights, three of them - Dryya, Isma, and Ze’mer - were women. They are also very dead or might as well be: Dryya was killed by Traitor Lord’s resistance, Isma is a tree spreading acid through the kingdom’s waters to cut off access to the City of Tears, and Ze’mer hung up her nail after her mantis girlfriend’s death and only lingers on as a revenant.
While there aren’t any characters who are described in-text as “priests” in Hallownest, the idea of a tattered gown might bring Lurien the Watcher to mind, or perhaps the Soul Sanctum’s magicians before they went rogue.
The lovely, pale lady in the song can only refer to the White Lady, Hallownest’s queen. And there’s only one man in the game who has a shining crown: The Pale King. The lyrics are particularly derisive towards him in a way they aren’t to any of the other figures listed, too.
So, it seems like whoever came up with this song didn’t think much of Hallownest. With that in mind it’s hard to think that it originated from any sort of faction loyal to the king.
We’re missing a line from the third verse, which Myla sings after you’ve beaten Soul Master and she’s beginning to become infected. But what we do see of it is Huge in terms of lore:
Bury my body and cover my shell, [...] What meaning in darkness? Yet here I remain I’ll wait here forever ‘til light blooms again
So. The “protagonist” of this song’s family has died, and they expect to die as well, but even unto death they're waiting for Hallownest to fall and the light to return.
The moths became Hallownest’s gravekeepers after the Pale King forcibly assimilated them. Under the Pale King’s light, the moths forgot Radiance and most of their original culture, but Seer tells us in her final monologue that a few individuals remembered just enough to pass bits and pieces down through the generations. This secret resistance among the moths was what kept Radiance alive and prevented her from being sealed away entirely.
This song Myla sings comes from that moth resistance.
Code songs amongst oppressed ethnic groups are very much a real thing, especially when groups have to communicate or signal each other within hostile parties’ hearing. Since I’m American (and had a big ol crush on Harriet Tubman as a little kid lmao!) the first thing that came to mind for me when I made this connection was the working songs escaped Black slaves used in the Underground Railroad.
These have another point in common with the moth gravedigger song Myla sings, in that they enter the general cultural consciousness through out-group people who don’t know the true context. If you ever pick up a book of American baby songs, you’ll probably find some Underground Railroad code songs in there - often because generations ago white kids heard these songs from Black slaves or servants, and went on to sing the same songs to their children with zero awareness of what the songs were really for.
So some Hallownest bug somewhere probably heard the moths’ song and liked it and sang it in a context totally divorced from its original one, and it got spread around and passed down to become one of Myla’s old favorites, with her seemingly not realizing the meaning behind the lyrics. The moths’ song of devotion to their lost god survived them as a people.
This is some VERY realistic and layered worldbuilding. There is so much to glean from just one NPC’s dialogue when put together with other clues. Of course all of it is SAD and DEPRESSING, but Hollow Knight is a tragedy with a super unsubtle point to make about the unsustainability of Western imperialism.
What happens to Myla is awful, and upsetting, and unfair. So was what happened to the moths and their sacred ground, and to Radiance too. It’s important to understand the scope of the conflict that led to all this happening, trace it to its roots, and lay it at the feet of the ones responsible for engendering all this tragedy in the first place: Hallownest and the Pale King.
*A NOTE ABOUT MY USE OF THE TERM “GENOCIDE”
This is a tangent, but since there’s some debate about whether it’s appropriate to define the Pale King’s actions towards indigenous bug nations as genocide, allow me to cite the official definition of genocide here.
The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (the Genocide Convention for short) defines genocide like this:
Genocide is any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, religious, or racial group, as such:
A) Killing members of the group
B) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group
C) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part
D) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group
E) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group
Among the abovelisted, Hallownest is guilty of A (Deepnest and the moths), B (Deepnest physically/the moths vis a vis brainwashing), C (the mantis tribe and the hive), and E (the moths, which we know from Marmu, and possibly the mosskin also - Isma is mosskin).
Then there is cultural genocide, i.e. acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, religious, or racial group's way of life. Let’s look at the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (DRIP) and how it defines cultural genocide:
A) Any action which has the aim or effect of depriving them of their integrity as distinct peoples, or of their cultural values or ethnic identities
B) Any action which has the aim or effect of dispossessing them of their lands, territories or resources
C) Any form of population transfer which has the aim or effect of violating or undermining any of their rights
D) Any form of assimilation or integration by other cultures or ways of life imposed on them by legislative, administrative or other measures
E) Any form of propaganda directed against them
Hallownest is guilty of every item on this list. A: The moths, attempted with Deepnest. B: The moths, the mantises, the flukes, the mosskin; also attempted with Deepnest. C: The moths, the mantises, the flukes. D: The moths; attempted with the mantises and Deepnest. E: The mantises and Deepnest.
Any sort of discussion of the wide-reaching harm Radiance caused MUST include the context that the Infection is her response to multiple levels of genocide. Discussion that does not include this context loses nuance and simplifies the conflict and power dynamics portrayed in the game in ways that reflect real-life racism and Christian supersessionism.
Now, this is NOT some sort of holier than thou Fandom Purity dunk to say that it’s Bad or Wrong to care about Hallownest’s nobility. Like, one of my favorite characters in this dang game is the White Lady, who spent a long ass time enabling her husband’s actions before she finally walked out on him over the mass infanticide thing. You can, and it is okay to, love TPK and want rehabilitation for him while acknowledging that the dude has done objectively bad things.
I just feel that it’s important to keep things in perspective so that we don’t wind up stirring a bunch of real-world bigotry into our fandom funtimes. A lot of us don’t have the luxury of turning our brains off and simply Not Seeing It, because these same sorts of dynamics are behind a lot of the hardships that threaten our everyday stability.
It’s pretty hard to have conversations about those things in real life if one can’t even recognize them in fiction. So, this might be a good opportunity to start practicing anti-racism so we can better utilize that ideology in real life, where the stakes are much higher.
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jaskiersvalley · 3 years
Note
Hello!! 💕 Just wanted to let you know that I love your "Jaskier has always smelled of blood" au. It means a lot to me 💛 I feel like it brings some kind of awereness to the issue and I'm really gratefull for it. Thank you 💕
Nonnie, thank you so much for your kind words. That AU is one that I spent a lot of time mulling over and debating whether to write it or not. But given the fact that it means a lot to you, it was most definitely worth it. There is actually another topic that has been on my mind a fair amount that is as heavy as that AU, which is what happens when a suicide attempt doesn't succeed. Hopefully you won't mind if I write that as a little thank you for your lovely ask.
CW: Suicide attempt (overdose of Witcher potions)
Love wasn't meant to be part of a Witcher's life. That was what Eskel had always been taught and he accepted it as his lot in life. When he was younger, he had raged against it, tried to defy the truth. He attended parties, wooed and seduced wherever he went. Love never stuck but at least his lust was sated. Then Deidre happened and Eskel had a new reality to get used to, one where he was seen as monstrous, hideous and repulsive. Those were just Lambert's teasing words, trying to exaggerate and poke fun at the situation. Not that it helped. Suddenly, Eskel could only attend masquerade balls where his face was hidden from view for fear of upsetting humans. It was either that or finding hungry and desperate succubi who valued his Witcher enhanced attribute more than his visage. It didn't stop Lambert from cracking jokes.
"You don't have a succubi problem, you just have a succuebae. Get it? Before anyone else!"
It was easy for Lambert to say, brothels still took his coin if he wanted it. Though, by the sounds of stories, he didn't need to frequent such places, not when he had a Cat Witcher travelling with him and eager to share all aspects of the Path, not just the pay for contracts. Still, Eskel couldn't begrudge Lambert, he'd always had a shit lot in life. If he could buck the rule about love, good for him, he deserved that slice of happiness.
Then Geralt had to go and find himself a bard who was devoted to him. Eskel could smell the pining on Geralt over winters and then love when Jaskier finally spent the winter with them. That was fine too. Much like Lambert, Geralt also deserved someone to love and share his life with. Even multiple someones when Yennefer arrived and had no need of a room of her own.
It was fine. Eskel could be happy for them. He wasn't jealous, didn't feel like he'd been cheated out of anything. Those were thoughts he turned away from every night when he pulled his covers tight around him and pretended he didn't wish it was the warm embrace of a lover, probably much like the other two had.
Things got worse when Eskel started getting left out of things. There were games that the happy couples played in the evenings, something about how well they knew each other. It was raucous and fun by the sounds of it. Eskel stayed in the kitchen, cleaning because it wasn't a game he could play. The double dates looked fun, going out on rides. Once Yennefer even opened up a portal for them to spend a night away for some romantic getaway. The bard about Eskel bringing Lil Bleater had stung more than he cared to admit. Slowly, Eskel was forgotten. Vesemir had his books, was content with those and the letters he seemed to send. If Eskel was lucky, he'd end up like him. But Eskel didn't want to become Vesemir in his old age. Not even Vesemir really, not when Eskel didn't even have friends to exchange letters with.
The bleakness of it ate away at Eskel for years. Each time he returned to Kaer Morhen without a travelling companion, without someone to write to, he felt like a failure. To the point that he tried drinking, tried fisstech, anything to forget, even if just for a little while. Nothing worked though, every time reality caught up with him. There was only one solution he could see, one where there was no tomorrow to wake up to. It wasn't a rash decision, Eskel didn't immediately act on those thoughts. But his mind was made up and with that came a sense of relief. He had a few things to get in order, to figure out but there was now an end in sight, a way out and on his own terms.
One last winter he made the trek to Kaer Morhen. He had a tidy pack of coins, some truly excellent Gwent cards and a large stash of potions he had brewed up. All in all, he looked like he had a good year on the Path. Nobody needed to know that all his external riches were a façade for the poverty of his heart.
His plan was a simple one. It wasn't like a Witcher left a will or anything like that, his measly belongings got scavenged when he didn't return from a contract. That wasn't what Eskel wanted, he was going to make sure all his belongings were going to go to the person he wanted them to end up with. Which was why he started with Gwent. He played Geralt and, slowly but surely, lost all his best cards. Eskel prided himself in how he could play so well that they others believed he was having a bad run. Couple it with drinking some of Lambert's brew, it was an uproarious night full of laughter, friendly slaps to his back and loudly declared sympathy for his poor, alcohol addled brain.
Once the good Gwent cards were gone, Eskel switched out, claiming he needed someone lesser to play because Geralt was just too good. As predicted, Lambert took great offence at being called a worse player and shoved Geralt out the way. Eskel bet money, a nice pair of gloves and, in an almost unheard of turn, Scorpion.
"I needed to leave you with things to barter with for the rest of winter," he told Lambert with a smile. "Because I'll be winning it all back in the coming weeks, with interest on top."
The laughter that went up at that was nice. Eskel was satisfied all the worthwhile things in his possession had found good homes. Vesemir had already taken the spices and seeds he had returned with, along with the small mountain of foods that would keep them well fed over winter. What Eskel didn't expect was the hugs and pats to his back as they got ready to get to bed.
"It was nice to see you smiling and laughing again," Jaskier commented.
"This was like the old days," Lambert agreed, rubbing his knuckles over the top of Eskel's head viciously.
Aiden clasped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze with a smile. "Good to have you back."
It wasn't like Eskel had ever left, he had been there all those years, it was the others who didn't want him. It didn't matter now though. They'd had one final night together, it all went well. Eskel waved goodbye to them all, heart heavy but also light. He couldn't have asked for a better final evening.
Back at his room, he sat down on his bed and looked around. There wasn't much left. The furs and throws were all down in the communal areas, he'd migrated those down over the last couple of weeks. His armour wouldn't fit anyone and it wasn't suitable for reworking for the others. It would be the perfect thing to wear to his funeral pyre so he pulled it on one last time, taking a deep breath as the familiar scent of worn leather enveloped him. All the potions he'd brought back with him were lined up on his bedside table. He knew what he was doing. The others would understand, maybe even take it as the gift he meant it to be. He wouldn't be the odd one out anymore, the loner who brought the group down by hanging onto their coattails. They could have their double dates, their romantic getaways without having to worry about him or feeling guilty for leaving him behind.
The first potion was Cat, he downed it, feeling the world shift into larger clarity in the darkness of his room. It didn't sit heavy in his stomach, three potions were fine to take, four was when the toxicity began to affect him. Though Eskel was a large man, he could probably deal with about six potions before he became ill. It was why he had fifteen little bottles lined up, one worse than the other in terms of toxicity. Next, a Maribor Forest slid down his throat, followed by a Lapwing. They were all conflicting potions, making his body shake. Brock tasted foul but it was still better than Rook which made Eskel's heart pound. Taking a break, Eskel settled back on his bed, head spinning. He could feel his whole body shaking with unspent energy the potions teased out of him. It felt horrible, his stomach roiled. Without his attention on some creature and the fight for his life, Eskel couldn't help but focus on the way his joints seemed to itch, his muscles tingling.
Five potions weren't going to be enough. Reaching for another bottle, Eskel knocked back two Thunderbolts in a row. He gagged but pushed on, head swimming. Virga at least tasted a little better. It was wiped out by the Nekker Warrior Decoction. The world was fuzzy, Eskel whimpered a little as his muscles seized and cramped and his stomach ached. He'd rarely taken enough potions to even flirt with the edges of toxicity, to deliberately do it was agony. This wasn't how he'd expected it to go, he thought he'd take them, lie back and go to sleep. Pain was not part of the deal but he would shoulder it, this was his choice. A couple of the empty bottles clattered to the ground as he reached for the next one. Most of the Black Blood went down his chin as he spluttered. Leaning against the headboard, he closed his eyes, willing the wooziness to go.
Maybe to took more potions, maybe they were dreams, he didn't know. What Eskel did know was that he woke up in his bed, the sun shining bright in the sky. Head pounding and stomach churning, he could smell stale vomit in the air. Rolling onto his side, he threw up over the edge of his bed. Breathing shaky, Eskel coughed miserably and spat to clear the bitter taste from his mouth. Judging by the state of his floor, it wasn't the first time he had thrown up but it was definitely the only one he could remember. Flopping back onto the bed, Eskel covered his face with his palms and choked back on a howl of frustration. He couldn't even kill himself properly.
The problem was, Eskel had no plans for what to do if he failed. He'd been so certain that he would go to sleep and never wake up again. At a loss, he fell back onto habits and routine. He was already dressed in his armour which was acceptable clothing to go downstairs for breakfast. Nothing heavy, he couldn't face the idea of eating anything. But a drink of water would do him good. Stumbling into the kitchen, he grunted a greeting at the others who seemed to be having lunch. Of course they didn't notice he hadn't gotten up for breakfast. Either that or they just didn't care.
"You're dressed ready for war," Lambert joked but the smile on his face froze when Eskel looked at him. "Woah. You look like shit."
Geralt was out of his seat and grabbing Eskel by the chin, giving him a close inspection and a less than subtle sniff. Whatever he detected had him tensing up and glancing to Lambert who looked alarmed too.
"Let's get a bit of food in you," Geralt rumbled and guided Eskel to the table where Aiden's face turned stricken. Even Jaskier and Yennefer looked solemn, their usual rivalry nowhere to be seen. In fact, everyone seemed intent of giving Eskel the attention he didn't crave.
From the doorway, Lambert called, "Geralt" and stepped back. But the clink of bottles in his hand and the hushed, hurried conversation gave away the fact Eskel's dirty secret had been found out.
"I'll go clean the room but he's not going back there. Not alone," Lambert growled. The others around the table didn't even bother pretending they weren't listening in.
Vesemir's footsteps approached and Eskel wished fervently that the potions had done the job. Especially as he listened to the conversation.
"What's going on here?"
"It's Eskel he-" the clink of bottles followed again, Lambert no doubt showing Vesemir the evidence of Eskel's shame.
"I see." Vesemir rumbled softly and walked into the kitchen. He sat down next to Eskel, not saying a word. However, he squeezed his shoulder and swapped out the tankard of water for a warm tea, adding a dash of honey to it. "Geralt, get a Golden Oriole from the cupboard."
Eskel could only watch as it was added to his tea, heart sinking. Nobody said anything. Not even when Lambert returned, looking a little green in the face. He sat down, squirming in the silence.
"Are we not going to say anything about it?" He asked in the end. "We can't just pretend it never happened."
"We won't," Vesemir replied, voice warm but also full of warning. "But there's a time and place for everything. Right now, our priority is the physical. The Golden Oriole will help. Then Eskel will go and have a lie down in front of the fire to sleep and let his body heal."
It was so much easier to follow Vesemir's instructions than have to think for himself. Eskel hadn't thought he'd see the sun again, hadn't thought he'd have to worry about things like daily chores and ways to spend the long hours of a day. At some point he must have finished his tea because the mug was empty but Eskel didn't remember it. He was ushered towards the pile of furs and throws from his room and he sank into them, exhausted already. He was only half awake as he heard the conversation around him while a throw was carefully draped over him.
"How could he do this?" Geralt hissed, sounding angry for the first time. "Why would he do this to us?"
"I'm sure we'll find out." The reply from Vesemir was soft and calm. "But what we need to focus on is helping him realise it was a good thing he didn't succeed."
"What if he tries again?"
"We have to hope he doesn't. He won't be alone for the next few weeks, we'll take turns keeping him company. And hope that we can do enough to make him want to stay." Vesemir was oddly calm and resigned. "I've seen others do this before. We can only hope to counter the darkness that has befallen his mind."
Lambert joined the quiet conversation. "But he seemed so happy last night. In fact, he's been the most at peace in years. I thought he was getting better."
Even half asleep, Eskel could understand the words, appreciate the thoughts behind them. But he didn't know if the plan would work. He doubted the others would understand or would be able to do anything to help him. After all, they still had their partners, lovers and each other. All Eskel knew for certain was that if he tried again, he'd do something with an assured outcome. He just hoped the others would understand.
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chryuhwan · 3 years
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helloooo i’m sol (21+, they/them) and this is yuhwan. he’s an old oc revamped too many times so if he seems familiar... my b dude i’m attached i guess. anyway, i’m excited to be here! please like this post if you’re interested in plotting and i’ll hit you up. i’m not on twitter and pretty sparse on discord, so i prefer tumblr im! but if that’s difficult for you, we can figure smth out! i have a short (haha) tl;dr under the cut, but you can also read up more on his BIO and PROFILE pages.
RUNDOWN
TRIGGER & CONTENT WARNINGS: physical abuse, underage drug/alcohol consumption, (attempted) suicide (lmk if you want a redacted summary!) 
BASICS — born and raised in busan up until the tender age of seventeen, when he was sent (“exiled”) to seoul to live with his aunt and uncle and attend hannam. the catalyst was a rebellious phase turned lifestyle (a lot of really reckless decisions involving drugs, alcohol, vandalism, swiping money from the tithes & offerings, u name it) and his parents deciding they a) didn’t want to deal with that and b) didn’t want that to reflect on their reputations. he’s been in seoul ever since and has never stayed in busan for longer than a couple of days.
ON RELIGION & FAITH — the only son of the head pastor of a well-known megachurch in busan, yuhwan was raised under the strict and watchful eye of his obsessive parents! he’s not religious anymore by any means, but faith (or his lack thereof) has shaped a huge part of his mentality. his lack of belief in a higher power is the foundation of his ‘if i have the confidence to own up to the potential consequences of my actions, then i’ll do whatever i want to’ mindset. he’s not going to be discouraged by a god that doesn’t exist! 
ON SEOUL — hates it. yep. he hates seoul, but he doesn’t really have the drive to try to find somewhere he does like because he hates busan too. when he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle, he was treated pretty poorly (still flinches when people raise their hand at him), like a glorified punching bag. hannam wasn’t any better, and the military was nice in the way prison cells might be. he hates cramped things and the only decent jogging path he knows runs him right by the bridge he almost jumped off of after his military service ended so. you know. you win some, you lose some. 
ON HANNAM — hated it. yep. straight up hated it. he was pretty good about being friendly around virtually anyone who held his attention for more than a couple of seconds, but yuhwan hates the idea of hierarchies! finds them downright stifling, and he doesn’t like the idea of being placed in a box, etc. hannam felt like an oppressive social pyramid and he thought that kinda sucked so as friendly as he was on the outside, he had zero interest in making friends and has probably only willingly kept in touch with a handful of people since graduating. 
ON GOSSIPS, RUMORS, AND SECRETS — he’s a tabloid writer. once a regular editor for a small newspaper, he gave that up and decided to sacrifice his morals for a higher paycheck. he blames his mom because she, as the pastor’s wife, had a lot of access to juicy gossip and liked to tell yuhwan about it. yuhwan’s probably the least trustworthy person he knows. he’s careful to keep the secrets of people he cares about, but as it turns out, he doesn’t really care about that many people. he’s friendly, open to listening, and honestly not that bad at giving advice etc., but be on your guard. wouldn’t want your dirty laundry to be aired out for the world to see, after all. 
ON THE PRESENT — he’s minding his own business. really. like i said, he’s probably kept in touch with some people, but otherwise he’s not really interested in the busy lives of almost-strangers unless they’re going to get him a bonus on his next paycheck. yuhwan very much so marches to the beat of his own drum. he doesn’t care much about the world around him and only cares when it inconveniences him. like a kite without a string, he’s floating wherever the fuck the wind’s going to take him!
ON HIS SECRET — after graduating from high school, and then university, and then finishing military service, yuhwan thought he might literally lose his fucking mind if he didn’t set himself free in one way or another. ultimately, he decides he won’t be able to coexist in peace with his parents unless they change. and because they won’t change of their own volition, he submits an anonymous tip about his father’s embezzlement of church funds. in the end, it doesn’t destroy his dad’s legacy or anything; the church is still up and running—but it’s an ordeal that takes months, years of being humbled by the weight of the world. he doesn’t feel bad about it. his mom gossips less and his dad’s less of an asshole, after all. makes family gatherings that much more bearable when they’re all tired of existing!
CONNECTIONS
BEST FRIEND — just one. no dramatic childhood friends story or anything like that. just one person he actually really genuinely sincereeeeeely liked from hannam that didn’t take any effort or slow build to figure out. probably the only person he really trusts in this big, bad city. you’ve got a huge weapon in your hands! he’s not used to putting this much trust in others. (+1000 if in a two-day relationship that ended terribly. ‘i would never date you again, but i’ll still die for u’ kinda vibes) 
HANNAM FRIENDS — there won’t be many, but! anyone? anyone?? he was a friendly, easygoing person (still is, tbh) during his hannam days, but was definitely a free spirit who did whatever he wanted. if you could keep up with his pace, then he might have liked your company. he’s not a fan of overly serious people unless they have the patience of a saint! (trust me, you’ll need it.) 
HANNAM... NOT FRIENDS — he’s not so conscious of his surroundings as to have enemies himself, but he definitely did get pushed around for a little while when he was first getting settled. and he’s also definitely spoken out of turn and said some rude shit (not on purpose) (he just doesn’t have a filter) here and there. want to hate his guts? please do. negative energy’s welcome in this house!
COUSIN — a similar-aged cousin, also the child of the aunt and uncle yuhwan absolutely fucking abhors. they might have a contentious relationship. might even be a positive one. either way, they lived under the same roof for a few years! 
TABLOID VICTIM — got a little fame to your name? have a nasty scandal you didn’t want to get out? well, now it’s out. and sensationalized, too! maybe you know it’s him who leaked it (and wrote the article, while we’re at it). maybe you don’t! 
BUSAN BUDDIES — and i use the word ‘buddies’ loosely. grow up in busan? have religious parents? religious yourself maybe? well, maybe you bumped into each other then. yuhwan had the reputation of being a prim and proper pastor’s son, amiable and cheerful and so so devoted, up until he was suddenly sent to seoul. all of his bad habits and reckless adventures were largely done behind his parents’ backs (until he got caught, at least!)—you know of them? partake in them, maybe? or maybe you didn’t know, and you’re wondering why the fuck he came to seoul in the first place
BLACKMAIL — he’s not above using underhanded tactics if they’re made available to him. sometimes he doesn’t even need a big reason. maybe he found out a secret of yours and he wants a secret you know about someone else. he’ll hold it over your head! call it a little game of cat and mouse!
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mannien · 3 years
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Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1
The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.
Word count: 6.6k 
Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles
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Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.
When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.
The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.  
Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.
A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.
“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”
Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.
“Babe, can I call you back…”
“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”
“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”
Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.
“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.
“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”
Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.
“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”
“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”
“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.
“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.
“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.
“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”
“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”
“You just saved my internship!”
“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”          
“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”
“Alright, go kick ass.”
And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’
Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.
With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.
Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.
“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.
“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”
“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.
Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.
“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.
“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”
Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.
Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.
“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.
“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.
“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.
Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.
“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.
“What if I provide you with some energy first?”
“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.
They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.
“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.
“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”
“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”
“Cool. I could use a little break.”
As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.
Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.
“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”
“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.
“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”
“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.
“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”
“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.
Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”
“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”
“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”
“Will do.”
Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.
As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.
The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.
Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.
“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.
“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”
“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”
“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.
“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”
“I am, just got off the train.”
“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.
“Absolutely, thank you.”
“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.
“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”
“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”
“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”
“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”
Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.
“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”
“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”
“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”
“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”
“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.
“Have a good night.”
“You too. Bye, Tess!”
Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.
Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.
Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.
           Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.
           She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.
           (Tom) I got you something today
           After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood.  She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.
           (Me) You were in Disneyland????
           (Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today 
           (Me) I’m so jealous rn
           (Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!  
           (Tom) it’s alright
           (Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all
           (Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty
           (Me) I bet you loved this feeling
           (Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too
           (Tom) Don’t tell anyone
           (Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa
           (Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw
           Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.
           Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.
           The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.
           “I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.
           “That’s exciting, right?”
           “Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”
           “That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.
           “I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”
           “No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”
           “Yeah? How was work?”
           “Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”
           “Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”
           Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.
           “Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.
           “You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”
           “Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”
           “I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”
           “Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.
           “You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”
           “I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”
           “Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”
           “Oh, for sure.”
           “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”
           “I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”
           “You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”
                                                          *  *  *
After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.
Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.
The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.
“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.
“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.
“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”
“Justin Timberlake?”
“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”
“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”
“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”
Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.
“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.
“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”
“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.
“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.
“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”
“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.
“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”
Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.
           “How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”
           “Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.
           “It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”
           “Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”
           It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.  
****
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