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unholyeverything · 4 years

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3 a.m. - Part 1/4

Hello, this is based on a conversation I had with @lord-diavolo. So don't you solely blame little me. Also don't ask how we got there, we didn't understand ourselves. She was also one of my main inspirations to start writing, I just love her stories! So thank you! In general I've been so eager to try and inspired by all the fics I've read coming from this fandom. I wanted to contribute to the best of my abilities.

This won't be what you expected. Or it will be exactly what you expected. I don't know what you are into, honestly. But this is what I'm into and what I want to create. I shall have no shame anymore and trandescent into becoming a higher being.

Also the last time I wrote something was in gradeschool, so this might sound horrible. And I have no coherent thought of thinking so the timeline won't make sense. Please bear with me. Be here for the content, not the grammar, vocabs or a good sentence structure. Because I'm capable of writing 10 line long sentences. Good luck trying to figure that out. See it as a brain exercise.

But all in all, I had to say I had fun writing this! And that’s my main goal with anything I do. It made me laugh at first so hopefully you will get a laugh out of it too. Reading through it 200 times destroyed that for me. This is also brought to you by a caffein high. Me on coffee. The me writing this also was 4 cups in. Watch me rip out trees with my bare hands today. YOLO. Am I right.

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Pairing: DiavoloxLucifer Explicit: no, but mental images you will never forget Warning: none can save me from the brain damage I aquired during the creation of this, I went in there with -2. There are at least 5 more gone now. But sharing is caring am i right? Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Let’s start the slow progression towards Lucifer’s ultimate death.

During the day he was the Demon Lord, feared and respected by everyone and everything, but after 3am he turned into the biggest human fanboy known to demonkind. Or not known, let's be honest. This was the peak of his day, the time where he could truly go hunt down his newest online purchase. The latest addition to his human-things-collection. One of the base layers for all of Lucifer's frustration, because he was the first and mostly the only one being called in excitement after the order was made, expected to show up within minutes to listen to all the reasons as to why said item is the greatest invention of all time for multiple hours.

However, that wasn't the worst outcome, this was it being a good day. The worst this would come down to was Lucifer being pulled in and being expected to participate or joining him to try out his newest find.

Just thinking about him will summon the devil, right?! It proved to be the case today as well. His office was dark, only faintly being lit by a candle placed on his desk, silence surrounding him. Still going through stacks of paperwork needed for the student councils meeting tomorrow, tiredness slowly starting to overcome him, Lucifer found his mind wandering off to think about what Diavolo would be up to right now. Even though it was already long past midnight, tomorrow's meeting was important, so he must still be up, also working through mountains of paper trying to figure out all the topics needed to be discussed. At least that's what he hoped was going on when he heard his phone go off, the ringtone indicating it was him. Just a question regarding the meeting or to simply see if his right hand man was also starting to be done with preparations.

"Lucifer! I need you to come to my office immediately!" It sounded like an emergency, so just in the second it took Diavolo to speak out his words, Lucifer was already up on his feet, picking his coat off his chair to wrap it around his shoulders and leave through his doors. "I have just found the greatest piece of human ingenuity online and it was already delivered, you have to come look at it! I know it's 3 am but I beg you!" There it was, the thing he hoped would not happen. Not today, with such an important meeting awaiting them, actually, never again. Adding to the mess was Akuzons policy of just delivering within seconds upon seeing their Leaders address on an order. They wouldn't dare let him wait. The employee processing the orders would start screaming and everyone on the night shift would start running, trying to find the item their Lord wished for, running out right away to deliver it. Oh much Lucifer wished they would let him wait. At least for the next day, for his own sake. They really should start considering other people's feelings as well.

It seems like Lord Diavolo was browsing all sorts of websites again, spending his precious time, that could be used to prepare Devildom matters, to look for human garbage that excited him more than having Lucifer present himself to him in the finest Lingerie. Well maybe that could at least give off a similar effect, let's not forget to give him some credit, though it still couldn't fully compare.

Anyway, he had already left the house, might as well just get this whole ordeal over with. There was no way he could excuse himself either. It was his Lord giving orders, he had to go. Go off to another night listening to how great the human inventions were. Even if what Diavolo considered as 'a great piece of human ingenuity' ended up being the most ridiculous item of clothing Lucifer had to ever lay his eyes upon. Considering that was what happened the last time he was summoned to his castle at these unholy hours. These atrocities were apparently called 'onesie'. Furthermore they unfortunately seemed to come in the shape of all the different animals known to mankind. This not only led to Diavolo proudly picking one supposedly resembling a human dog-breed referred to as a "Welsh Corgi Pembroke". These dogs being the preferred breed of a human queen must only mean that they are fit for any of royal status. It also led to him picking out one resembling Lucifer's symbolic animal, the Peacock. Though one could debate if that 'thing' even closely resembled a proud peacock, it was just utterly ridiculous with these giant black eyes and this horrendous colour scheme of blue and green. Thinking about it, this is nothing to debate over. It was ridiculous. Making this past experience worse, was that, on the following weekend, Lord Diavolo invited him and all of his brothers to his castle for a human tradition: a sleepover party. The nice and considerate person that he is, he also thought about everything and picked out a onesie for all of them. Expecting everyone to wear these to bed from now on or at least during the duration of the event. What would he otherwise do? Check on them. More likely than what you would want to admit, at least in Lucifer's case.

Shaking his head Lucifer trying to erase this traumatizing experience from his memories. At least this train of thought has kept him busy on his way to the Demon Lord's castle where he was let in by Barbatos, already expecting him. Standing in front of Diavolo's bedchamber he took a deep breath in to mentally prepare himself for the worst. Just about as he was to knock on the wooden doors they were nearly slammed into his face by the unstoppable force on the other side of them.

Barely being able to avoid having his nose broken, he was greeted with the biggest of smiles and a sparkling set of eyes. Was that an apology? "Lucifer! You are finally here! I've been waiting!" "My Lord it only took me five minutes to get to you." "Five minutes to long, my dear! You could have stayed overnight like I offered yesterday." "Yes of course. I apologize." Lucifer answered with a sigh. He was too tired to argument over something that superfluous. Judging Diavolo's expression while entering the room he knew he was in for a long night without any sleep.

The meeting the next day was even more exhausting than usual, it also seem to drag on for eternity, the brothers never being able to find a consensus. At least that's what it felt to Lucifer, who truly did not get a minute of sleep the night prior. What was there so long to talk about human underwear designs. Oh yes, they depicted just the most amazing selection of fruits ranging from blue ones with little watermelons printed on them, over to the most stunning pair: pink one with green pears on it. Oh there was so much to discuss about the human depiction of fruits in general. Weren't they just the most stunning little icons, so bright and colourful. Diavolo didn't seem to be tired at all, he was still too excited about his newest purchase. Proudly deciding to wear them right away. Luckily, for Lucifer, he decided it was enough that he had seen them in all their glory and his Lord decided to put on pants before leaving the house.

Finally, the meeting was over. Lucifer decided to try go home as fast as possible to take a short nap before new orders could get to him. Still the first ones to leave where Mammon and Satan, saying they had things to do and hurrying to get out. The next to leave was Beelzebub, who got hungry, helpfully he decided to pick up the sleeping Belphegor and take him with him. Only leaving Leviathan, Asmodeus, Lucifer and Lord Diavolo back in the meeting room. Diavolo tried picking up the conversation from last night again. Though one look at Lucifer's face told him that the latter was not up for this again and he should really head home to get some well deserved rest. He was starting to get concerned with how dark his undereyes were starting to look.

"Lucifer, you should really head home, shouldn't you?" he asked with a worrying undertone in his voice. "It was a long night yesterday, wasn't it?" Amodeus couldn't prevent a smirk from appearing on his face, which was immediately answered by a glare from Lucifer, making his little brother face away again. Just appreciating the concern for once, too tired to come up with a answer or to get angry even, Lucifer got up and started to collect his papers. "Well then if you allow My Lord, I'll excuse myself…" "Of course, Lucifer, I'll just wrap up and clean the room with Leviathan and Asmodeus over there." There was a barely audible sigh and some complains coming from their direction that got louder after Lucifer has left the room.

"Now, don't complain you two!" Diavolo said with a smile. "Help your big brother a little, he had a rough night." There was nothing, better none, to keep Asmodeus curiosity in check now.

"Ohhhh ~ my Lord please tell me all the details ~" the strawberry blonde purred. "Oh I just found the most amazing pairs of underwear from the human world, I just had to present them to him!" the redhead replied proudly. "Oh what type of underwear are we talking about? Some red lace? Or black? Or did they come up with even more revealing items than nudity? I would not put it past them!" His mind wandered in a direction that it really shouldn't, all different types of lingerie induced situations popping up. "Oh they were the most wonderful things, they had little oranges and bananas and watermelons and all types of fruits on them!" Oh well, there was one thing keeping the Demon of Lust in check. And it was an oblivious Demon Lord, not picking up on the situation as well as the intent of the talk and instead daydreaming about boxer briefs with fruits on them. Of course, cute things are the priority. What to reply to that now.

"Oh, that sounds quiet wonderful! The humans and their unique fashion choices. Did you do a little fashion show for him?" Faking interest, a good choice for Asmodeus. This might just do the trick to at least lead this sad conversation in another direction. "Of course I did!" their Lord laughed out. "We had a great time picking out the most wonderful one!" Well, this wasn't a good choice after all. Was this something a couple should do that late at night? Selecting the greatest pair of fruity underwear? Surely this can't be it. There were better things on could do.

Finally putting an end to this was a loud sigh from Leviathan. "What is wrong, you seem to be quiet upset about something? Is there something I could do to help you?" Diavolo asked with genuine concern. "Oh. It's my parcel I ordered from Akuzon, it still hasn't arrived. I ordered three days ago, and I paid extra for next day delivery! And now I waited for THREE days. THREE. Still no word from them! I didn't even get an email saying it was shipped. It is a figurine from one of my favourite animes! A limited edition even. Only a couple of them were produced. They are really special. One of a kind! Maybe I should order another one if they still got them?" Starting his D.D.D. and furiously tapping on it. "I see they have two more in stock……." There Levi went off again, rambling about his shows. Weirdly he seemed to disclose the title this time. What would it be about? None shall find out, or should they? "Oh? What do you mean by that? Don't they deliver to everyone within a few seconds? When I order I get my little packets only minutes later, at most? It is a truly amazing delivery service! Though if they cause trouble for you should I go contact them?" Diavolo didn't quite understand his problems but tried offering help anyways.

Hearing these words just about did it for Leviathan. His envy kicked in full force and without a single thought to whom he was in the room with. What was with this unfair treatment. He was a Prime Shipping member, promised next day delivery. He paid extra for this. He was one of Akuzons' best customers. He spend fortunes on there. WHY WOULDN'T HE GET HIS ITEMS WITHIN MINUTES. He felt his demon form flare up. Even in the presence of his Lord. Asmodeus saw this as his chance of running away, a welcomed distraction. Truly not wanting to spend one more minute thinking about what went down between Lucifer and Lord Diavolo last night. The potential image of Diavolo walking down a carefully made runway in nothing but boxers with fruits on them and Lucifer watching that was too much, even for him. The thought will haunt him for centuries, that he was sure of.

"I won't stand for this." Horns already coming out of his head he faced Diavolo. "Leviathan, this is a little unnecessary, isn't it?" He got serious, straightening his back, standing there with his arms crossed. "I already offered to talk to them, we can find an easy solution for this." He would definitely not let him run loose and destroy their meeting hall. Leviathan's mind still screaming to fight, his body, luckily for him, knew better than to attack his Leader. Instead he furiously made his way towards the exit, continuously mumbling how unfair all of this was, what he did to deserve treatment like this. He would just hole himself up in his room again, trying to distract himself by ordering more figurines, because even if he can't get them the fastest, he would be the one owning the most.

Diavolo looked after him, now alone inside the room. What did he do wrong? He didn't quite understand what happened right now, but something must really have angered the third oldest. He would go ask Lucifer about it after cleaning up. They were separated for too long now, after all. A good excuse to go see him again.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #dialuci #obey me fanfic #obey me writing #fanfiction #obey me shitpost #obey me crack #obm #myfic

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ahs-honey · 5 years

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Learn Your Place - Part 1. (Wilhemina Venable x Reader) One Shot.

Part 1 / Part 2

A/N: hi, guys ! i just want to say a huuuge thank you to everyone who read / liked / reblogged my Cordelia Goode one shot. i was so not expecting anyone to like my writing, and the fact that some of you did is just mind boggling to me. this was really fun to write, but it’s really fuckin long cause i clearly don’t know how to shut up. i hope you don’t mind ! and if you do, please let me know so i can shorten my writing. thank you again !

Warning: extremely nsfw, like i went all out lmfao pls read at your own risk. (includes spanking / caning, slight (?) degradation, choking, etc). enjoy ! :)

"Ms. Venable?" you called, knocking twice on the door to the Outpost leader's office, the sound echoing through the abandoned halls in ripples.

The residents of Outpost 3 were currently in the main room, sitting by the crackling fire as the same old song tattooed itself into their heads. A dry conversation was beginning to flow between them; any thought that appeared at the surface of their brains was spoken out loud, giving them the momentary relief of focusing on something other than the tortuous music bouncing off of the walls.

Wilhemina had excused herself early from dinner — a rare occasion which alarmed you, her lover, which was exactly why you were now stood outside her office, waiting for a reply. You had briskly slipped away from the crowd of survivors, making up a quiet excuse which you were sure no one had even caught on to, allowing you the time to go attend to your girlfriend. Was that really necessary, though?

Deep down, you and Wilhemina both knew what was really going on. Ever since the tragic news had come along, informing the few survivors of Outpost 3 that the other Outpost's had been overrun, Wilhemina had not been able to get it off of her mind. Truth be told, it was stressing the woman out to the point where she was becoming even colder than before, knowing that the survival of the human race could very well depend on her ability to rule effectively.

Of course, no one had noticed the slight change in her personality. In fact, whenever the fierce leader's presence was lacking, the survivors would quietly joke that her recent behaviour was due to the woman entering menopause. And although it kept them humoured and entertained for the time being, you were definitely not the one to appreciate their humour. Sure, you sometimes dryly laughed along to avoid suspicion whenever you were made to spend time with the survivors, but times like this — where everyone was too engulfed in their gossip to notice your being —, you cherished with your whole soul, knowing that you could easily slip away from the crowd and discreetly fall into the comfort of your lovers presence.

Except this time, Wilhemina Venable wasn't open to having company.

"I don't have the time for whatever you may possibly want! Leave me be, for once. Miss Mead is quite literally just down the hall!" The woman had coldly yelled back, not bothering to even open the door. Rude on her behalf.

The singular thought of spending time with another human being made Wilhemina's temples ache with a dull pain. It was just too much for her to handle right now. She usually appreciated the companionship that you provided her with, but the only way the leader knew how to deal with stress was to shut everyone out and handle it on her own. It was how she'd always dealt with it; being HR and working for humanities most filthiest failures, meant that the red-head was used to seeking guidance from no one other than herself.

However, you strongly disagreed with the woman's ways, and so you stubbornly crossed your arms over your chest, knowing just the way to make Venable tick.

"V, open the door, for God’s sake."

From inside the room, came a cluster of shuffling noises, soon followed by the familiar sound of Wilhemina's cane tapping heavily on the ground. The noise crawled closer towards you, until it stopped all at once, as Venable unlocked the door before swinging it open in one swift motion.

The wooden entry-way briskly revealed Venable's strong demeanour. The stern gaze that was now comfortably occupying her face almost made you regress on the spot, yet you remained collected, biting your lip in attempt to ground yourself.

The red-head grabbed you firmly by the wrist and roughly pulled you inside the dimly lit space, shutting the door sharper than usual, before turning to you with a raised eyebrow. Fuck.

"V?" Wilhemina mocked, dumbfounded at the fact that you would dare to call her the nickname in a place where the possibility of getting caught was so extremely high. "Are you out of your god damn mind, (y/n)? What on Earth do you think you’re doing, coming to my office and daring to use such a word in public? Not to mention, even after I had asked you to leave." Her voice was raising by the syllable, and you knew it was mostly due to the stress. Venable was strict, sure, but this was pure anger and frustration.

The both of you had spent enough time together for you to be comfortable around each other and to know how to deal with most situations. However, right now, you didn't have a single clue on how you could help Wilhemina destress. After all, there wasn't exactly much that could anger you in an apocalyptic shelter, so the pair of you hadn't really dealt with frustrations before. Not this kind, anyway.

"Relax, V. There was no one around — everyone is in the main room," you calmly told the woman, who only scoffed at the fact that you had just brushed her off so casually.

"I suppose that makes it acceptable, does it?" Venable wondered, voice firm as she stood gripping her cane with both hands.

Her nails scratched the wooden top every so often — something you had always paid close attention to. A habit she developed, showing she felt annoyed or angry. "Fine. Go on, then. Go ahead and yell it down the halls, why don't you? But I promise you, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

The fury in Wilhemina's voice was more than evident, and it almost made you flinch at the sound of it. You had known the red-head held a coldness in her soul since the beginning of all of this. Hell, you experienced that coldness for a while, too. But never have you seen the woman this cold. It shifted something inside your mind, and a risky idea popped into your head. If this was what it was going to take, you were going to do it.

"You're acting like a brat, V." You took a small step towards the older woman, watching as a confused look washed over her face. Venable opened her mouth, yet couldn't find the right words to say out loud, and so, she stepped back reluctantly instead, following the current scenario out of pure curiosity. A quiet gasp escaped the red-heads lips when her back carefully came into contact with the wall, not giving her a means of escape, leaving her sandwiched between the stone and the warm body belonging to you.

"Is this what you need?" you asked, scanning the woman's unreadable face. Was it? You didn't know. But you were willing to try almost anything to get her to break for you.

Your voice took on a firmer tone, yet your face remained soft as you waited for some sort of reaction. "Do you need me to take control, baby?" Your knee suddenly found it's way in between Venable's legs, causing her cane to escape her grasp in slight shock, connecting with the ground in a sharp touch that failed to faze either of you. "You know, I could punish you, if that's what you need. The way you've been acting lately . . . it's so frustrating — you're frustrated. Let me take control for once."

There was a thick silence in the room, lasting no more than a few seconds before it was ripped to shreds by the sound of Wilhemina's dry laughter. And although the woman seemed occupied with her humour — her eyes glowing with a hint of amusement as her chest convulsed with sounds of fake joy —, it was quickly cut short.

She had snapped out of her hysterics within an instant, wrapping her leg around yours and flipping you both around, so that it was you who was now pressed in between the stone, cold wall and Venable's strong, lean body. A surprised gasp ushered out from your lips, but before you could fully register what had happened, Wilhemina had wrapped her slender fingers around your throat, cutting all of your ability to form coherent thought away, and establishing dominance.

As her right hand focused on adjusting the pressure of the grip on your throat, her other hand was placed flatly on the wall beside your head, supporting her weight without her cane. Venable made quick work of reversing the roles, roughly wedging her knee in between your thighs, forcing a breathy moan out of you and gaining your immediate attention.

"Who exactly do you take me for? Thinking you have the ability to dominate me — to punish me. It's - well, it's simply diabolical," Venable almost spat as her tone fell low and venomous. "You have gotten extremely ahead of yourself, and that petulant, filthy mouth of yours has now earned you a more-than-unpleasant sanction, so I highly suggest that you listen to me very clearly, little girl."

A small whine fell through your lips as you watched, with hunger, the way Venable almost growled in your face. The pressure of the older woman's hand on your throat made you panic slightly, yet your underwear was already beginning to feel wet with arousal as you barely struggled against Wilhemina's firm grasp. Utter betrayal of your own body. You were aching to grind into the clothed knee pressing against your core, but by now you knew not to push your boundaries, leaving you with no other option than to stay quiet and listen to the anger spilling out of the red-heads mouth.

"You are to never question my role again. Am I making myself perfectly clear, or must I spell it out for you?" Wilhemina asked, loosening her grip on your throat by miles in order to let you speak, yet not allowing the possessive hold to fall just yet. It was almost frightening how calm her tone was. If you didn't know better, you'd have started begging for forgiveness already. But you did know better. Well, so you thought.

Apparently, a desperate nod wasn't a sufficient enough reply for the older woman, and Venable was quick to correct your behaviour, as she finally disconnected her rough hand from your throat, only to swiftly bring it across your cheek in a sharp, unkind slap, pulling a pained noise out of you.

"I asked you a question, you little brat. Therefore, I require an answer."

"I'm s-sorry, Ms. Venable. Y-You're being perfectly c-clear," you stumbled over your words like a nervous wreck, engulfed in helpless waves of fear and arousal. Although you knew you wouldn't enjoy your punishment half as much as your mind enjoyed the idea of it, you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered in the moment, even if that wasn't going to help you later on.

"Good. Next time I won't be so patient in giving you a reminder." The older woman pulled away, stepping to the side as she remained holding onto the wall, watching as you panted with adrenaline and relief.

"Pick up my cane and hand it to me," Wilhemina's authoritative tone rang once again, and you followed through with her request almost immediately, pushing yourself off of the wall, uttering a quiet, "Yes, Ms. Venable."

You bit your lip as you grabbed the cane off of the ground and offered it to the woman as briskly as you could, ignoring how weak your legs felt and focusing on making sure you didn't mess up any further.

"Good," Wilhemina coldly praised, snatching the cane rougher than intended, causing you to flinch at the action. It took everything in the Outpost leader's mind not to let herself get carried away and revel in the power she currently held over you. She was more than angry, though. And those feelings always brought out her most creative ideas.

"Now, take off that repulsive piece of clothing," The woman sternly ordered. Her tone was harsh, yet the glimmer in her eyes and the way her lips lifted at the corners could be seen from miles away, and you already knew from that look alone, that the woman had something big in store for you. That was never a good sign.

Yet that didn't change the fact that the request was simply odd, and caused a wave of confusion to sweep over your features as you stared at the red-head in slight disbelief, not quite understanding why she'd order you to do something like that at a time like this.

"Are you deaf? I told you to undress. Do not make me repeat myself again." As she steadied herself with one hand using her cane, Venable used the other to snap her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your confused trance.

You blew out a barely-audible sigh before following through with Wilhemina's order and undressing till you were left in only your undergarments.

The look on the Outpost leader's face could've very well only been described as lust-filled, as she shamelessly let her eyes run up and down the length of your body, watching as your over-confident attitude fell off of you along with your clothing. She sent you a cocky smirk before walking over to the door and pulling it open. Oh, yeah. You definitely had something coming.

"After you," the red-head extended her right arm, indicating that she wanted you to leave the room as you were — naked. And definitely not prepared to do that.

"Ms. V-Venable, please. I - I can't go out there — not like this. Please, don't make me," you desperately begged, wrapping your arms around yourself as you felt the cool air floating in from the hall. Venable's office was definitely much warmer. It was a fairly large area, but it was still heaps easier to heat compared to the spacious halls, which always seemed to feel breezy no matter how well lit they were.

"Quite frankly, little girl, I don't care what you have to say for yourself. I've heard quite enough. Now, you certainly had no issue with humiliating me, so I suppose you don't mind me doing the same," Venable spat, tapping her cane onto the ground twice to reiterate her statement. "Step into the hall. Now."

You almost sobbed as you shuffled out of Wilhemina's office and into the hall, your bottom lip quivering and your eyes scared and alert, scanning the expanse for any sign of another being.

Thankfully, the two of you were the only ones currently occupying the area — for now, that was — and although you dreaded the idea of your punishment, knowing just how cruel your lover could sometimes be, you wished Venable had already dished it out, wanting nothing more than to get back into your clothing and away from this absolutely humiliating situation.

The sharp sound of Wilhemina's office door shutting pulled you out of your thoughts. You glanced over at the nonchalant-looking woman. Could she be any louder? Someone was bound to witness this, and you couldn't bring yourself to accept that. It just couldn't happen.

"Face the wall, Ms. (y/n)," Venable ordered, her tone obviously louder than necessary, a sick smirk playing on her lips.

Although the fierce woman had always thought she'd hate for anyone to see her lover half-naked, she couldn't deny that this excited her. It was the perfect mix of humiliation and punishment. Wilhemina knew regular punishments did nothing but arouse you, and so this was ideal. It was everything you wanted and everything you despised, in one. Almost torturous.

Once you were face-to-face with the dusty stone, Venable loudly made her way over to you, stopping at your left side and propping an arm on the wall, using it to aid her balance, cane in the other hand.

"Hands on the wall, too. You'll need the support," the red-head informed you, watching as you slightly furrowed your eyebrows, yet did as you were told nonetheless. "Good girl."

Good girl. That did things to you. Always, no matter what. Well, apparently that statement wasn't so true anymore, as right now, the praise only reminded you of the times Wilhemina said it with love and tenderness, not with coldness and regret. God, you wished she'd just call you that again. Maybe she would, but you knew it'd be a long while and plenty of pain before you'd even get close to hearing her whisper it with satisfaction. Fuck. Pissing your girlfriend off was the worst idea. Not only because she was your girlfriend, but because she was the fucking leader of the Outpost. Of course she was going to get carried away.

"Are you even listening to me?" Venable's voice dragged you out of your racing thoughts, and you mentally scolded yourself for getting so caught up in your mind. "For Heavens sake, could you be any more ditzy if you tried?"

Wow. That one stung at your soul. You cleared your throat, not turning your gaze away from the wall. "I'm s-sorry, Ms. Venable. I-"

"Shut your mouth already. I don't want to hear another word from you. It's my turn to speak now," the woman harshly countered, sliding her hand down the length of her cane until she could lift it with ease, before swinging it in mid air as if to taunt you. Fuck, this was going to be unpleasant. You already knew what was coming. Venable had never used anything other than her hand to hit you with, but you could already tell by her actions what was going to happen next. You must've really crossed the line this time.

"As I was saying — I'm going to spank you with my cane, and you're going to count every single strike as loud as you can. If you fail to do so, I will simply start over. I don't care who sees, and I certainly do not care how many times we do this. You will most definitely know your place after I'm done with you, and trust me, you won't forget it again . . . You are not to move from this spot. If I see that you have, I will start over. If I hear you say anything besides the number of hits you've received, I will start over. If your hands move a mere inch off of the wall, I will start over. Have I made myself clear?"

You whimpered, flinching as you felt the older woman's cane draw closer towards you with each swing, forcing a whirlwind of cool air to follow soon after. "Yes, Ms. Venable," you shivered.

"Good. Now count and don't fucking stop until I tell you to."

And with that, the red-head swung the cane up into the air before bringing it down onto your bare skin with little mercy. You jolted at the impact, a pained cry leaving your lips at the sharp sting. Tears formed in your eyes, yet you quickly recomposed yourself, remembering Wilhemina's rule. The impact had caused your muscles to jerk in surprise, and you had moved ever so slightly from your previous spot. Venable noticed. She squinted her eyes briefly at the sight, before humming in what seemed to be a satisfied tone. She was enjoying this. Of course she was.

"O-one," you counted, hoping it'd distract the woman from your visible movement.

Without warning, her cane flew down onto the smooth skin of your ass once again, emitting a yelp of surprise from you, your legs trembling as you forced yourself to stay completely still, not moving a limb.

"I vividly remember telling you to be loud, Ms. (y/n). Start over."

You couldn't hold back your tears any longer, allowing them to flow freely as you closed your eyes. "One!" You pitifully yelled, making Venable roll her eyes. However, she was satisfied with the volume of your voice this time, and decided to continue on with the punishment, lifting the cane and guiding it harshly down onto your already-red backside once, and then once more after that.

Your body shook as sobs spilled from your mouth at the ruthless, unforgiving hits Venable was delivering. "Two! Three!" You quickly cried out, not wanting to make the woman wait any longer. She had only just begun, but you didn't know how much more of this you could take. It was absolutely brutal.

Just as Wilhemina was about to dispute yet another relentless blow, she heard a shuffling noise echo from down the hall. The woman looked up, noticing that a Grey was stood watching the scene with frightful eyes, nervously picking at her nails. The Outpost leader chuckled darkly at the sight, which caused you to curiously look up, tears still streaming down your flushed cheeks.

The second your eyes met the watchful figure, your stomach turned, and you averted your gaze back to the stone wall immediately, too ashamed to keep eye-contact with anyone right now. The Grey briskly fled from the scene at your evident embarrassment, rushing back to the rest of the survivors and allowing for Venable to continue without distractions.

The next couple strikes were almost unbearable, and you were hanging on to every little thread of willpower that you had in you, not wanting to repeat the cycle of humiliation and pain all over again.

For the remainder of the punishment, you kept your eyes sealed shut, focusing on doing exactly as Ms. Venable had asked. Every so often, you would hear the sound of footsteps shuffling past you, but you never turned — you never looked. Not when you heard a gasp, and not even when you heard a whisper. Nothing in the world was worth getting distracted for.

Your throat burned as you wailed out yet another double digit, hearing as your own hoarse voice floated through the halls and kissed the deepest, darkest corners of the building. If anyone in the shelter wasn't already aware that you were being punished, they definitely were now.

"Mm, good girl," you suddenly heard the softest of hums leave your girlfriend's lips. She had said the praise so quietly, you were almost convinced that you had imagined it. That was up until you tearfully looked up at her face, seeing the satisfied smile that she was now wearing. "You took your punishment well, Ms. (y/n). You may drop the position — in fact, come and stand in front of me," the woman ordered in a more gentle, yet still firm tone.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, a single, final tear rolling down your cheek in the sheer happiness of your punishment being over. As your arms fell from the wall, the ache of holding them there for so long ran through your muscles, making you whimper as you turned your body to face the Outpost leader, who was stood watching you intently as she rested both of her hands on her cane.

The second you moved your legs, it became incredibly evident to you how wet you had become. Your underwear was soaked, and all you could do was turn bright red, hoping Wilhemina wouldn't pick up on it.

"You were right," your girlfriend spoke up, pulling you back into the reality of the moment as she looked down at you with a teasing smile.

"A-About what, Ms. Venable?" You shakily asked, scanning her eyes as they sparkled with amusement in the flame-lit hall.

"I needed this," she told you sincerely, before her teasing tone once again returned. "And if you prove to me that you are capable of behaving, then I will give you what you need, tonight."

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly. "What I need?"

Wilhemina chuckled with little humour laced in the sound. Her eyes glanced down the hall, making sure there was no one currently around. Once she was convinced that the two of you were alone, she pulled her right hand away from her cane, resting it on your stomach for a second. Her slender fingers danced down the curve of your skin, and without a single warning, she slid them past the elastic of your underwear, cupping your dripping centre.

The red-head couldn't help but moan at the mess she felt. You were filthy. She bit her plump, painted bottom lip, dipping two fingers inside of you without warning, and curling them slowly a couple of times. You released the neediest of moans as she touched you exactly where you needed her, making your body shudder and your knees buckle. But before you could fully bask in the pleasure, Venable pulled her fingers back out, bringing them up to her mouth and sucking them clean, not breaking eye-contact with you for a second.

You whined at the sight, wanting nothing more than for her to fuck you right now. That's exactly what Wilhemina would usually do when you took your punishment well, but you could tell by the teasing look on her face that this wasn't one of those times.

"You taste pathetic," Venable spoke in a harsh tone. "You cried and wailed throughout the entire punishment, and yet, you're undoubtedly drenched."

"P-please, Ms. Venable," you whimpered, getting more turned on with every word.

She raised an eyebrow, resting her hand back onto her cane. "Please? Would you like to be more specific? I don't have a single clue what you're asking for right now." Her words were roughly spoken, but you could see the small sparkle in her eyes, and the slight twitching of her cheek muscles as she resisted the urge to smirk at you.

"Touch m-me," you begged, resting your hand on top of hers in order to steady yourself. Your arousal was seeping out of you, and your whole body felt weak with it. This was torture. It was almost worse than the punishment itself.

"I most certainly will not."

At the sound of this, you pulled away from her hand, falling back and leaning against the wall as your knees couldn't hold you up for much longer. A shallow, pitiful sigh drifted through your lungs, making Venable chuckle in amusement.

"I thought I already made myself clear, did I not? You will get your reward, but only if are able to show me that you can behave yourself," the Outpost leader spoke clearly and sternly, making sure she wasn't misunderstood this time. "You're going to return to the rest of the survivors now, and you'll meet me in my quarters tonight — the usual time . . . Now, if you even think about disobeying me today, we will be going through this entire process once again, tonight. You will learn your place one way or another. Do you understand me, Ms. (y/n)?"

You sighed softly this time, nodding in agreement. "Yes, Ms. Venable." It was her way or no way, and you were too needy to be comfortable with not recieving any pleasure tonight.

"Good. I suggest you clean up before dinner — your arousal is dripping down your thighs, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if everyone could smell you from all the way across the building," Wilhemina stated before quickly leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Don’t be late for dinner."

And with that, the red-head turned on her heel, swaying her hips as she left you standing flustered and wet in the middle of the abandoned hall.

#i cant believe i wrote this shit #this is filthy as hell #if anyone reads this in public i just wanna say how does it feel to be so brave bitch #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable one shot #wilhemina venable fanfic #wilhemina venable imagine #ahs fic #sarah paulson x reader #ahs-honey #tori writes #ahs one shot #american horror story fic #american horror story one shot #wilhemina venable fic

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dreamingdolls · 4 years

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Top Ten Games of the Decade

Inspired by my friend @luniil I figured I would try and write down my top ten games of the decade before we ring in the new year. This list is quite obviously going to be extremely subjective. Note that I am limiting myself to one game per franchise to avoid potential bias there.

With that said, let’s kick this thing off, shall we?

#10 - World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria

Whatever my thoughts on WoW are today, I will never deny that for a long time it was my main game, barely playing anything else at all. Mists of Pandaria then was by far my favorite expansion. Challenge Modes were a blast, the new Monk class quickly became my favorite and for the most part the writing was great. Pandaria was shrouded in mystery - as Thrall told us in the trailer - and much of the writing reflected that. After years of expansions pulling from the past, this stuff felt new and fresh, while not out of place either. Throne of Thunder is and will probably always be my favorite raid instance of all time as well, with quite honestly every single fight there being enjoyable from start to finish.

#9 - Undertale

The tears. Oh FUCK the tears when I reached that ending. And then the tears when I learned that wasn’t the end at all and there was more if I rebooted the game - they got me with that one. I was extremely late to the party with Undertale, only starting playing it as late as half a year ago, but I was inspired by Rey to try it out and I absolutely loved it. Bonus points for the 4th wall breaking throughout - a trope I admittedly might enjoy too much.

#8 - Hearthstone

This game got me into card games. I mean, I dabbled with some Pokemon and Yu-gi-oh cards as a kid but that was more of a collecting thing than actually playing the games. The polish on this game is honestly amazing from the voice acting on every card, the animations, the trinkets and odds to mess around with on every board... It’s a great game to play when I’m not really in the mood for something too intense and just want to sit back and play some joke decks.

#7 - WildStar / TERA

I’m cheating a little here by listing two games as a pair because both are here for very similar reasons, and I wouldn’t really feel right listing either above the other. I play MMOs. Like, it’s probably my favorite genre. I love the social interactions and as I play on a relatively limited budget compared to most of my friends, the constant updates and stuff to do is a very big draw for me as well. However, I’ve always felt the combat could be a bit... More involved beyond just hitting buttons on a hotbar. WildStar and TERA then seemed like the answer to my cries, taking a more action combat approach to the genre. I *loved* playing these games and it’s unfortunate the communities in both seemed to dry up so easily. Evidently I am in a minority enjoying these, but I have fond memories of both. RIP WildStar.

#6 - Pokemon B/W2

I had to really think hard which Pokemon game I would be listing here. One way or another one would get a spot but I wasn’t sure which. I loved mega evolutions, and regional forms were an amazing idea too. For all the hate Sword/Shield have gotten, I’ve still gotten a ton of fun out of them as well. But ultimately? All of these I liked for a gimmick. Megas, Regionals, Raids... Each of them a great idea but none of them defining the core experience. Black/White 2, on the other hand, was the first game where I wanted to get my main team to 100, and where I actually wanted to put thought into my main team as opposed to just kinda rolling with whatever I run into. The story was great, the returning characters were great, and the variety of Pokemon in a playthrough was incredible. Easily one of the best Pokemon games of all time.

#5 - Super Smash Bros Ultimate

There isn’t a world where this couldn’t make the list. I grew up with Smash from the N64 days. I love the crossover aspect and seeing everyone return in one game, plus newcomers including, at last, BANJO? This game is why I bought a Switch in the first place, and it continues to be one of the best decisions I’ve made. For the first time I’ve dabbled in competitive play as well, and I’ve been loving every moment of it, even the losses. World of Light was a blast to play through and having each character’s Classic mode follow it’s own theme was brilliant. Ultimate indeed.

#4 - Mario Galaxy 2

HOLD THE PITCHFORKS! Had it not been for my one game per franchise rule Odyssey would have made it on to the list. However, between the two, Galaxy 2 easily wins out as the better game. Odyssey had a lot - to the point of fatigue in some cases. Yes, there are 880 moons versus 242 stars, but a good chunk of the moons felt tacked on towards the end of the game. Galaxy 2 on the other hand was a blast from the very first star all the way to the last. It took the idea of Galaxy and made it easily ten times better, and where most people are hoping for an Odyssey 2 or Sunshine remake... I’m lowkey praying for a Galaxy 3.

#3 - Skyrim

Skyrim is not perfect. I’m going to say that right away. Plenty of bugs including some gamebreaking ones are about. But with that said, I still got an easy 350 hours of joy out of the game and still have stuff left unexplored. See, being that I’m gaming on a budget longevity is very much a part in how I rate games. I’d rather buy a good game that lasts me forever than an amazing game of 5 hours with no replay value, and Skyrim is full of the former. And while it might not be perfect, it’s still got a lot of good things going for it on top of that replay value. That is why it deserves it’s spot on my list.

#2 - Life is Strange

Excuse me while I cry my eyes out please? There isn’t much I will write on the actual story here as I don’t want to spoil things for Rey (with whom I’m replaying the game as of late) or any other reader that might pick the game up, but few games have made me as emotional as this series. There’s some cheesy jokes that might be trying a bit too hard, but in general the actual story is brilliant.

#1 - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers

Dear reader, let’s run back through the previous points I’ve made in this post for a minute before we properly dive into the number one pick here. I’ve mentioned a love for MMOs and their social aspects. I’ve mentioned a love for stories that aren’t afraid to shake the norm up a little. I’ve told you about valuing replay-ability, which the job system in FFXIV definitely offers. And, I’ve mentioned a love for games that make me cry my heart out.

Shadowbringers got all of that and then some.

Never did I think a MMO’s story could bring me to tears quite as badly as Shadowbringers did. I always kinda accepted well, a MMO is just that first, RPG second, prioritizing the online experience above a coherent story. Shadowbringers took that and threw it in my face, telling me no, damnit, I can do both. Even characters I wasn’t all that fond of on a personal level, the game does such a great job at establishing them that if they kill anyone off my face is full of tears in a matter of seconds. But they don’t even need to go that far. The storywriting is strong enough that even without shock value moments I’ve bawled my eyes out on my keyboard. Shadowbringers is a heartbreak in the best way possible, and that’s not even mentioning the music or hell, the actual gameplay yet.

“Remember.. Remember us. Remember, that we once lived.”

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zdbztumble · 5 years

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Botching Backwards and Forwards, Or: Today’s KH Ramble, Part I

As I play through KH III, I’ve also been catching up with the series by watching the Let’s Plays of the other games done by Team Four Star. Because they didn’t play through Coded and only watched the cutscenes from 358/2 Days, that means that there’s only one game on their playlist that I haven’t played myself, that game being Dream Drop Distance. From what I can tell, its gameplay operates on a similar mechanic to Birth by Sleep, which I enjoyed quite a bit. I frankly prefer the Command Decks to what we have in the console games. DDD making levels out of some left-field choices in Disney worlds was a pleasant surprise too. For the Fantasia world alone, I’ll have to consider picking DDD up when I’m not facing a month of utter financial ruin.

And yet, between the two of them, BbS and DDD are responsible for nearly everything wrong with the story of Kingdom Hearts up to this point IMO. Coded got the ball rolling by opening back up a story that had already been satisfyingly ended in KH II, but these two titles do the bulk of the damage to a series that, up to that point, had handled its story pretty well.

Starting with BbS, I freely admit that some of my issues with it boil down to a matter of preference. Turning the Keyblade into a (once) fairly common weapon with many wielders, with a history detailing a great Keyblade War and a test for a Mark of Mastery...all of that wasn’t to my taste, but I can’t say that there’s anything in principle wrong with it. It isn’t necessarily out of place for this series, and the one major wrinkle in continuity it causes (Keyblades choosing wielders) could be squared fairly easily. A prequel focusing on hitherto unmentioned characters rather than the series protagonists isn’t an inherently wrong choice either, though I’ll have more to say about that in Part II of this rant. That I don’t find Terra, Ven, or Aqua terribly interesting as characters is mostly a matter of preference as well, though I do think Terra’s descent into the darkness relies too much on sheer idiocy, and I will admit that Aqua is possibly the most fun player character in this series with her plethora of magic spells. But where I more seriously fault BbS (and Coded, for opening this door) is in its changes to Xehanort’s plots and backstory, and in undermining one of the best thematic ideas from the original Kingdom Hearts game.

"Ansem” turning out to be the true villain of KH I after two-thirds of the gameplay pass under the assumption that it’s the confederation of Disney villains was an effective twist that let an original character, more comfortably of the Square Enix half of the crossover, shine. “Ansem” turning out to be Xehanort the renegade apprentice, with his Nobody Xemnas the leader of Organization XIII, was hardly the most organic twist in the world; I don’t think anyone would go back to KH I and say “oh, it was so obvious, how did I not see it before?” But it made for another genuinely surprising twist in KH II. A villain can only have so many twists and secret plans, however, before effective surprises become cheap gimmicks, and any ability to take their current scheme seriously evaporates.

The revelation that Xehanort is in fact a transparently evil old man who, years before any of the events that led to KH I, plotted to synthesize a X-Blade and bring about a second Keyblade War (with less than ten combatants, so it’d be more of a Keyblade Skirmish) in what basically amounts to a mad scientist’s scheme in fantasy genre clothing, was the breaking point for me. This is a common trap of both prequels and conventional sequels; trying to tie too many things into a small group of characters, or in this case, a single character. Making Xehanort into a villain that spans multiple generations, the man who set into motion everything that preceded KH I and is indirectly responsible for Sora, Kairi, and Riku becoming Keyblade Wielders, can seem like an expansion of the universe on paper, but in execution, it’s a contraction. It reduces too many events down to factors in a single character’s actions. The fact that his scheme is no more coherent than those from KH I and II doesn’t help, nor does the fact that the storyline that most directly leads into Xehanort’s role in those games - Terra’s - is so transparently ripped from Revenge of the Sith.

But Xehanort’s abrupt reentry into the story isn’t truly maddening - not in BbS, at least. For me, the worst part of the BbS story is how it retroactively changes Sora’s. I’d go so far as to say that BbS is to Sora what Dragon Ball: Minus is to Bardock and Goku.

Don’t misunderstand me on that point: BbS is nowhere near as bad a game as Dragon Ball: Minus is a comic. What I mean by that is: prior to Dragon Ball: Minus, most people took Bardock: the Father of Goku to be canon. And, in that TV special, the history given to Goku, derived from what was said in the manga at the time, was that he was of no account by the standards of Saiyan society. He was a no-account spawn of a low-class warrior, sent off to a far-flung planet to clear out its worthless inhabitants. That low-class warrior who fathered him was as ruthless and mercenary as any typical Saiyan, and while he was stronger than the average low-class fighter and was given psychic insight into the fate of his people, Bardock was ultimately just another Saiyan doomed to die and be forgotten by time. Nothing in Goku’s origins is special or fated, which makes his accidental amnesia and eventual surpassing of Vegeta, the supposed Saiyan ideal, more remarkable. By transforming Bardock into a more tamed Saiyan with a close familial bond to his mate, who sends his son to Earth for safety in a blatant rip-off of Superman’s origins, Goku and Bardock both become too special, Goku’s turning into a kind-hearted child becomes too telegraphed, and their stories become too beholden to “chosen one” cliches.

And that is what BbS does to Sora, Riku, and to a lesser extent Kairi. That all three of them just happen, in their childhoods, to have had contact with Keyblade Wielders who left a personal mark upon them - and, in Sora’s case, literally took up residence inside him - is just too pat. It makes the three of them ending up with Keyblades too easy, too predestined. This hurts all three of them, but Sora most of all. Ven looking like Roxas and Vanitas looking like Sora, is a massive headache (and yes, I’m aware that there is at least some explanation of that), but the big loss is in the thematic content of the story, and there is where the comparisons to Dragon Ball: Minus really come into play.

Like a pre-Minus Goku, pre-BbS Sora is not special, in any way, at the start of KH I. He’s an ordinary young teen, plucky and affable and just a bit lazy, with a burgeoning quasi-romantic interest in his friend Kairi and an in-all-things rivalry with his best friend Riku. Compared to Riku, Sora comes up short in pretty much every area. Riku, at first glance, is faster, stronger, smarter, more dedicated, more fearless, and more capable. If you were going to choose one of those two to be the fated hero wielding a magic blade to save the worlds from darkness, Riku’s the better candidate by every metric, on paper. And, in fact, the Keyblade does choose Riku. The whole “chosen one” cliche is subverted in KH I in a brilliant way by essentially having destiny make the wrong choice. That Sora only gets the Keyblade by accident, loses it to its intended master, but quickly reclaims it on the strength of his accomplishments and his purity - that he earns it - is one of my favorite things in this entire series, and is a wonderful thematic idea and moral. Giving Sora and Riku both a fated “touched by a master” backstory kills so much of that idea, and it’s enough to make me wish that there was no BbS, as fun as the gameplay can be.

Ironically, DDD tries to have its cake and eat it too by playing up the fact that Sora wasn’t chosen by the Keyblade, but the damage was done by that point. And DDD further undermines that initial concept in the way it writes Sora, and his relationship with Riku. For one thing, Sora in DDD seems so much dumber than he was in previous games. Up to that point, he’d been written as an upbeat young teen, possessed of a certain level of immaturity and naivete, but always determined to help save the day, and more than capable of getting serious when needed. DDD abruptly starts to portray him as more of a doofy shonen hero, without any clear motivation and to no real purpose. It also introduces the idea that the central dynamic in Sora and Riku’s friendship is that Sora lifts Riku’s spirits while Riku takes up the slack from Sora’s sloppiness and carelessness. I have a real problem with that presentation, because it just isn’t true.

If you go back and look at KH I, those early Destiny Islands scenes set Sora up as the underdog to Riku’s Big Man on Campus. Riku jokes that he’s the only one working on the raft, and Kairi remarks that “he’s changed,” but he doesn’t come off as someone needing to perk up. And with one of the first challenges of the game being Sora gathering raft supplies, it doesn’t seem that Riku needs to take up that much slack either. In any event, over the course of KH I, Riku’s the one who drops the slack and falls into darkness, with Sora literally having to stop him from doing horrible things. And it’s Sora who continues on through CoM and KH II, saving the worlds. While Riku does appear here and there to aid Sora, his aid doesn’t come in the form of “taking up slack” or cleaning up after messes Sora leaves; Sora, Donald, and Goofy are still able to save the day by their own skill in each world. This whole notion, and Sora’s more dim-witted persona, seem invented, if not from whole cloth, then from very little that was previously established.

And again, there doesn’t seem to be a clear motive, unless it’s to highlight the differences between Sora and Riku and give more justification to Riku getting the Mark of Mastery when Sora wasn’t. But the writing doesn’t give a coherent through-line to that idea, nor does it sufficiently justify Sora not becoming a Master. Had the game actively told a story of turning the tables, and made a point to stress the idea that Riku’s fully reformed and that Sora was slipping up, then I’d be more forgiving (even if I still wouldn’t like the idea), but the work just isn’t there.

I’ll admit that there’s a certain amount of bias in my assessment; I’ve never liked Riku as a character. As a teen playing KH I for the first time, I found it easy to project my dislike of certain people IRL onto him, and in the years since, I’ve continued to find that the manner of his turn to darkness in KH I makes it very hard to accept him back into the fold with Sora and the others. He’s also a lousy player character in Reverse/Rebirth and in KH III IMO. But I accept that he’s the deuteragonist, and that his story since KH I has been one of redemption. In principle, a game that builds him up as a character and lets him save the day is fine. But the manner in which it was done in DDD was all wrong. And to an extent, the changes made to his and Sora’s friendship, and to Sora’s personality, have all carried over into KH III, which is even more frustrating.

And, speaking of things carried over...DDD is where Xehanort gets completely ridiculous IMO. Having pulled a third twist that he was actually an ancient Keyblade Master seeking to provoke a war, now there’s a fourth twist where his younger self has been traveling through time (by ridiculous means) to ensure that the fifth twist - that all that business about Nobodies having no hearts was a lie, and that the real Organization XIII exists to create thirteen Horcruxes vessels for Xehanort’s heart, so that there can be thirteen darknesses to face the seven lights in the Keyblade War (which still seems short of the numbers you’d need for an actual war, but whatever). The whole business about “recompletion” allowing an original person to revive if their Heartless and Nobody are destroyed is already enough of a contrivance to bring the original Xehanort back, but time travel and heart-splitting is even more absurd. And I still haven’t been able to figure out how “Ansem” and Xemnas can be back in action, even with the time travel aspect.

Recompletion also means that DDD brings back the rest of Organization XIII. I consider nearly all of them to be glorified henchmen, possessed of a gimmick for combat and a single personality trait at best, so their revival - and their cameos in BbS - do nothing for me. A big exception to that is Axel, but if I don’t care much for Riku, I can’t stand Axel. He comes off as what an “edgy” teenage writer would come up with for a “cool” character in a bad first stab at fiction. From his character design to his abused catchphrase, everything about him pisses me off. His one saving grace in KH II was that he sacrifices himself, and nothing undermines a sacrifice like a contrived way around death. That he’s become a Keyblade Wielder, and one of the Seven Guardians of Light, is ridiculous to me, and I’m not sure if I can think of a more blatant example of a writer’s pet character being so inorganically shoved to the forefront of a story that supposedly isn’t about them.

DDD also started to open the door to the possibility of Roxas and Namine being restored. That idea is less annoying to me than any of these others, but it’s still a mistake IMO. That Roxas and Namine both ultimately elect to give up their lives as individuals to return Sora and Kairi to their full selves, accepting their fate so that others can live more fully, is a bittersweet and touching concept, and one that lets “death” have some real consequences and the happy ending of KH II come with a price. I hate seeing that undermined, and I’m frankly frustrated by how much of KH III’s front half involved chatter about Roxas.

And speaking of KH III...that’s where Part II comes in.

ADDENDUM: Another thing about DDD that I feel undermines Sora is that, while writing him dumber, the game also hypes him up more than he ever was in the past. It’s the same problem as Harry Potter; for all that series’ virtues, constantly pointing out how special Harry is can end up taking away from his character by making his unique traits too ubiquitous. Other characters constantly pointing out how kind and loving and easy to bond with Sora is undermines that trait by over-playing it and turning it into an exercise in “tell, don’t show.”

#critique #commentary #kingdom hearts #birth by sleep #dream drop distance #disney #z's crits

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inazumine · 6 years

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Reflections on EnGou - Ultimate BROTP and Otherwise

So, I’ve been rewatching bits and pieces of the old series and reflecting on a lot, but… can we just talk about Gouenji and Endou for a second?

(Warning, long ass post ahead. Read if you dare)

GouEn is the first ship I ever shipped in Inazuma Eleven, and whether or not you see them as an OTP, more of a BROTP, or even a NOTP (that would be real hard but to each his own), you can’t really deny how important they are to each other and Endou’s role in Gouenji’s character arc.

I’m no master analyst and I really can’t form coherent thoughts worth a damn, but I just really wanted to write this and get my feelings out about them so here we go!

In the beginning of the series, Endou’s primary reason for interacting with new people is recruiting people for the soccer club. Raimon’s future looks bleak and Endou won’t let it just fall to pieces, so he’s aggressively recruiting anyone he can to fill their roster. Soccer is something that Endou loves, and ultimately he’s trying to find people he can play and enjoy soccer with, but there’s some desperation to his recruitment too. He really doesn’t care how interested someone is, or how much they’ve actually played soccer, they just need to be there as a warm body and he’ll make them like soccer and things will work out somehow.

Then, Gouenji comes in.

Forewarning, I’m trying to only put observations of canon in to this, but I have some headcanons about Gouenji and his mental state so bear with me.

Gouenji, I’d say, is a loner by nature. It’s not that he doesn’t like having friends or doesn’t want to make them, he just doesn’t actively push for it. He’s a man of few words and only speaks when he feels necessary. However, on his introduction, he seems pretty closed off from interacting with Endou, and pretty much everybody. It’s mostly Endou’s mention of soccer that tips Gouenji off, but I think context is important here. Gouenji’s a teenage boy who’s experienced the passing of his mother, believes that he’s guilty of putting his sister in an indefinite coma, and gets little emotional support from his increasingly distant father. He has very little in terms of a support system (thank God for Fuku-san), and has just abandoned his team in one of the biggest matches of the season, while moving to a new town where he knows no one. On top of all this, most of these events happen within what has to be a few months of each other, and Gouenji’s made to deal with it pretty much all by himself.

Soccer should be an emotional outlet and a way to have fun, but for Gouenji in the first part of season 1, it’s something that causes him to feel guilt. It’s his fault that Yuuka’s in a coma. He left Kidokawa for no good reason without telling anyone, so it’s his fault they lost. So, Gouenji decides to punish himself, and stop playing soccer. Why should he be able to have fun and play soccer while Yuuka suffers?

Gouenji’s depressed, and he internalizes a lot of negative emotions. He’s prickly, not willing to open up to people or make friends, and isolates himself on purpose. He has a thing for punishing himself, and as we see later, he doesn’t have the wherewithal to come to his own defense, not necessarily because he doesn’t care what people say, but because he doesn’t think they’re wrong.

Okay, so back to Endou. Endou meets Gouenji, and while Endou is a friendly person and genuinely cares about people, I daresay he doesn’t really act very empathetic towards Gouenji, at least initially. This is definitely not on purpose, more of a result of Endou’s one-track mind and general tactlessness in the beginning of season 1. Endou goes on and on trying to bring Gouenji back in to playing soccer, because if he can kick a ball like that, of course he should be playing, despite Gouenji being standoffish and uncomfortable. He doesn’t know anything about him, and ends up treating Gouenji like a phenomenon, some dude who’s going to come in and help solve the soccer team’s problems. This is quickly subverted when Endou and Gouenji start to see each other differently.

Gouenji see’s Endou as less of a nuisance and more a guy with a lot of passion and a good heart. He sees what he loves about soccer, and someone who enjoys it to the fullest, and it’s hard to keep denying himself. Endou accepts that Gouenji has his reasons for not playing and starts to see that Gouenji is a good guy that deserves to be left alone when he says he wants to be, but he wants to understand Gouenji and help him where he can. The key here is that Endou knows Gouenji isn’t happy not playing soccer, so while he doesn’t try to recruit him, he still tries to nudge Gouenji back towards it.

And that’s the beautiful thing. Because of Endou bringing soccer back in to Gouenji’s life, and giving Gouenji someone to lean on, Gouenji finally begins to lift a lot of those burdens off his being. He makes friends in Raimon, smiles a lot more, and opens up to others a lot more. Gouenji starts to feel happy again, and it’s because Endou is willing and ready to care about him.

(I almost damn cried when I saw this opening again and caught this, because it’s Gouenji and Endou and it’s Endou’s casual kindness that pulls Gouenji up and starts all this waaaahhhhhhh)

It’s this emotional investment in each other that grows in to a deep friendship built on trust and care. Later on in the series, Gouenji gets confronted with being pulled away from soccer again and again, and each time we see that it tears him up inside. He doesn’t let anyone know what’s really bothering him, except for one person: Endou. During Aliea, Gouenji can’t tell Endou what’s up, but he feels bad enough that he’s leaving again that he says sorry, and even tears up. None the less, Endou hides his sadness and tries to cheer Gouenji up, because he trusts that he’ll come back no matter what. Gouenji trusts the others to carry on and keep winning until he comes back, and he trusts he’ll have a place to come back to.

The real kicker is in season 3, when things get so much sweeter. Gouenji’s almost ripped away from soccer one more time, and we see how much this means to Endou. Gouenji hides his emotions because he doesn’t want to make anyone worry, but Endou’s so in tune by now that he notices something’s up, and Gouenji almost leaves without telling him anything, but he just can’t lie, not to Endou.

Now, we see Endou emotionally distraught, for a lot of reasons, and I kind of want to compare this to when Kazemaru left in season 2. During Aliea, Endou gets monumentally depressed because not only does Kazemaru leave, but Kazemaru leaves of his own accord, and Endou’s questioning his ability as a friend and as a captain. This, a long with the pressure, breaks him down and leaves him without direction. Here, instead we see that it’s clear Gouenji doesn’t want to leave, and that he’s trying to convince himself and everyone else that this is okay, but it’s not, not to Gouenji and not to Endou. Here, Endou is sad, but he’s frustrated on his and Gouenji’s behalf, and this has less to do with leaving Inazuma Japan, but more the fact he’s leaving Endou and soccer behind while trying to act like it’s not hurting him.

Endou goes as far as trying to appeal to Gouenji’s father, and it’s heartbreaking to hear Endou’s voice crack while he struggles not to cry, and this is the only time something like this happens in the series. What’s important is that while he’s talking, Endou doesn’t bring up how much Inazuma Japan needs him, but how happy soccer makes Gouenji and how he can’t take him away from the thing he literally lives for. Endou wants Gouenji to be happy, and he wants him there when they take on the world. So, it’s not a one-way street, and you can see that they appreciate and rely on each other through the rest of the season.

Gouenji goes through a journey from season 1 to season 3 of opening himself back up to people and soccer, and Endou is the catalyst for it. You can see how Gouenji becomes more talkative and expressive as the series goes on, and we have Endou to thank for it. This isn’t to deprive Gouenji of agency in his own mental affairs, but to emphasize how important Endou was in helping Gouenji start this process of healing.

It’s also why I think we see Gouenji play such a big role in helping others solve their problems. Gouenji by himself is really observant and cares about others, but he notes that it’s because of Endou that he makes it a point to look in to others issues. With Fubuki in season 2, his and Gouenji’s talk really says a lot. Gouenji flat out says he’s scared and imperfect; he lives with the fear of not being enough and hurting others along the way, and even though it’s something he can’t get over super quickly, he knows Endou and the team will have a place for him, no matter how many times he’s abandoned them or not been enough. And in season 3 when Gouenji gets all prickly again and starts not being himself, falling back down in to the Gouenji rabbit hole? It’s Endou who notices what’s up and decides to confront him. Gouenji learns from Endou’s habits, and he becomes someone who speaks up to help his team.

“You’re the one who taught me that.” - Gouenji being sweet as hell

Just in general, GouEn moments in season 3 are really sweet. The fist bumps get real emotional, and Gouenji starts initiating emotional GouEn moments a lot more as the episodes go by, which just rips me apart internally. In season 3 especially you see a lot of Inazuma Japan trying to help Endou block the goal and carry some of that burden, and Gouenji, more than once, tells Endou he’ll score goals to do just that. It’s not just to help them win, it’s to make sure he helps Endou carry that responsibility. He could have just not said anything, as we know Gouenji’s a man of few words, and could’ve just let the goals speak for themselves, but he chose to say it out loud and reassure Endou, so you know to Gouenji it means something more.

I think it’s easy here to say Endou is Gouenji’s rock, but I think Gouenji is more Endou’s rock. Gouenji is someone who brings Endou back to earth (the irony) when Endou starts thinking too deep and not being himself, and is the constant Endou relies on to keep going in a lot of aspects. I’d rather call Endou Gouenji’s buoy. Throughout the series, Gouenji threatens to and does slip off the edge back in to deep water, his guilt, his shame, and his tendency for self-punishment, but Endou is always there to pull him back up and keep him afloat and let him breathe new air.

Anyway, I think I’ve done enough rambling about things everyone already knows. I won’t go in to Go but long story short, it’s another situation of Gouenji punishing himself to set things right his own way, but trusting Endou (and the others) enough to hold down the fort, and no matter how guilty Gouenji feels after all is said and done, Endou welcomes him back immediately with open arms.

This was really messy and dumb but I had to get my thoughts down somewhere. We don’t have a whole bunch of GouEn moments in Ares/Orion as of yet, but I have hope and I’ll keep waiting for them. It’s almost impossible to keep these two apart for too long, so it’s only a matter of time.

#GouEn #inazuma eleven #oh god first post on tumblr jeezum #hope i didn't mess it up #inazuma 11 #ie11 #engou

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awed-frog · 7 years

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Hi! I'm really interested in seeing Human Cas as the end of his arc, and I've seen that you have one or two opinions really cool about that too so I was wondering if you would elaborate what you think of it?

Hi! Man, that is one complicated question! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to talk about it - this is going to be a bit long and quite possibly overly nerdy, so I apologize in advance.

First of all - as @thejabberwock said last week, the idea that Cas needs to become human in order to complete some kind of character development or be worthy of a human’s love or whatever else is slightly horrifying.

Interestingly, this whole theme - supernatural creatures giving up their identity to find love - is not some old mythology trope, because in Western mythology and folklore, love between a human and a supernatural creature simply doesn’t work, and there’s no way around it. On the one end of the spectrum, you’ve got your god/human relationships, and there what happens is generally a) human spies on god’s true form, dies horribly, b) god tries to do something nice for human, kills him horribly in freak accident, c) god’s friend gets jealous, human dies horribly, d) human gets pregnant, dies horribly, e) human has a lick of sense, turns down god, is raped or turns into a tree, or f) love story is disregarded because the important bit is that a hero is born, and behold. On the other end of the spectrum, you get your selkie/fae storylines, and I keep seeing posts on tumblr like Don’t hide your selkie’s pelt, #trust and #respect, and I’m sure OP means well, but that’s plain bullshit. The whole point of those stories is that you can’t change your fundamental nature, and those creatures may love a human for a time, but ultimately they belong in their own realm and that’s sad and heartbreaking, but also how the world works. So, if a selkie finds her pelt, she will desert her family even if she truly loves her human husband (and often she does: that’s the tragedy); if you sleep with a sidhe, she’ll probably come back as a pregnant doe and deliver a human baby for you and then fuck off, because she can’t help it; and in the rare cases (I know only of one) where a fae is actively trying to deny the call of the wild to be with you, well, you’ll fuck it up, because that’s what humans do (and plese, do ask me about it - that story is too long for this post but is also the best story EVER). So, well - traditionally, this stuff doesn’t work, but I’m not sure it has to do with racism and cautionary tales - after all, there are plenty of stories about men marrying princess ‘from beyond the sea’ and whatever - I think we simply know in our bones that when it comes to the divine, we’re outgunned and we should be very careful - and sticking your dick into something that’s been alive for five centuries is not a good way of being careful.

So, long and winding introduction aside - if a supernatural creature giving up their immortality to be with their human lover is not a mythology trope, where the hell does it come from?

Well - in part, it comes from the other part of our humanity: fairy tales. Now, unlike myths, fairy tales are more about teaching good behaviour than God and the afterlife, and what tends to happen there is that men are pushed to become more of what they are, while women are invited to become less of what they are (just as it happens in real life). In fairy tales, men leave their houses and their countries, pretend to be noblemen, make use of magical objects, lie through their teeth, fight outsized opponents and ultimately end up with a title and a bride. Women, on the other hand, generally keep their eyes down, accept shitty gifts gratefully, clean when they’re told to, and put others first. Giving up a piece of yourself in order to belong - that’s not what gods do; it’s what women do, and this propaganda has been so successful that we all live like that, mostly without even realizing it - we accept that our life is ours (sort of) only until we become mothers or wives; and then we put aside our own ambitions and focus on our husband’s and kids’. In this sense, it is telling that a selkie - a creature of folklore and myth - will go back to the sea and fuck you very much, but the girl who lived in an apple (an old fairy tale from Bologna), like many of her fruity friends, is freed from the enchantment when she’s eighteen - and she promptly marries the prince who’d been obsessing over the mysterious hottie who came out of his fruit bowl every night.

It’s also important to stress, however, that traditional fairy tales are only partly at fault for our selfish asses wanting angels and selkies to drop everything and cook us dinner every night: much of the blame (if not all, let’s be honest) is on Andersen’s The Little Mermaid - where, let’s not forget about it, what the mermaid wants is not only love, but also an immortal soul and access to the Christian Heaven - stuff monsters like her don’t have. And, well - I think in time Andersen’s tales came to be seen as some universal thing, when in reality they were very personal nightmares of Andersen himself - a tortured, unhappy, repressed bisexual man who’d been abused in his childhood and presumably tried to get past his own inability to have a fulfilling emotional and sexual life by writing overly grotesque and decidely anti-women stories.

(We all know about The Little Mermaid, but another highlight would be Red Shoes, in which a selfish girl who has the nerve to go to Mass wearing red shoes finds they are enchanted and can’t stop dancing until her feet are chopped off with an axe; charmingly, the heroine is named after Andersen’s half-sister.)

If we consider this precedent, I think what @thejabberwock said is spot-on: for Cas, becoming human includes some element of self-mutilation: just like the little mermaid had to give up her voice and her family, Cas would lose something irreplaceable by choosing to leave Heaven behind. And also - narratively, that choice would frame him as ‘the woman in the relationship’ once and for all, because male heroes just don’t do this stuff; and that, in my opinion, would be a huge loss. What I find so fascinating about Dean and Cas slowly falling for each other is the careful balance of traditional gender roles and how neither character is boxed in; how Dean, our muscle car and hard rock hero, is often pushed into what would be the woman’s role - only he’s not pushed at all, but walks there willingy, and that’s plain spectacular.

That said, the SPN universe chose to frame the opposition between humans and non humans has been framed in a slightly different way from traditional storytelling - even if the narrative isn’t always coherent.

So, if we’re talking specifically about angels, the original idea is that angels 1) don’t have free will and 2) can’t have feelings like a human does - a point that is clearly implied in the first one, because true free will and the ability of make your own choices are the fundamental prerequisites for forming your own opinions - and feelings. Now, in theory, it makes sense that angels wouldn’t have either; despite the daydreams of some truly adorable fanart (Gabriel holding baby Cas, for instance), angels aren’t born; they’re created in order to serve God, and that’s their only mission. Heaven started to unravel only because God left, and this is where we see the SPN narrative starting to fray - because their angels generally have both free will and feelings. From Zachariah’s refusal to serve humans to Uriel betraying his brothers to Gabriel’s anger and Balthazar’s insouciance, there’s not a robotic servant of God in sight, and I know it’s objectively difficult to write feeling-less character who are also engaging, but I always found that all those angels wishing things for themselves sort of cheapened Cas’ own journey towards humanity. Because, well, Cas becoming human only makes sense, in my opinion (and this is how the story’s being framed), in an I want to make my own choices and experience love kind of way, but in this case - from what we’ve seen, both with other angels and with Cas himself, it’s perfectly possible for angels to behave and feel like humans do, so why would Cas need to give up his Grace?

Another point is that Cas’ already given up his ‘angelhood’ in every way that matters. He’s rebelled against Heaven, he’s refused orders, he’s been tortured and silenced and imprisoned, and he’s chosen humanity (Dean) over and over and over again. Hell - as far we know, Cas isn’t even interested in God any longer, and surely heeding God’s will is, like, item one in the job description?

(By the way - Cas’ reaction to God’s coming back - that was important, show. What the hell were you thinking about? How is it possible that the subject was never discussed again? Uuuuugh.)

Furthermore, Cas hates being human. He’s tried it before, and we know he didn’t like it - at all. The storm of emotions, the need to look after your body, eating and drinking, the acute knowledge of not being powerful enough to defend yourself and your loved ones against dangers you know are there - Cas does not long to become human; what he wants is to belong, and what he needs, narratively, is the possibility to make a choice that’s not either/or - to be with the Winchesters not because Heaven hates him and not because he’s got no other friends, but because he feels loved and welcomed and wants to live with them 24/7 (feels he’s worthy of their love) - so, if anything, that’s where his character arc should be going.

As a last point - something that will never happen but would be absolutely hilarious is the David Eddings solution: in his novels, an immortal sorceress chose to renounce her powers and her eternal life to be with the (fully human) man she loved, only to find out her soul couldn’t be ripped apart like that and instead, the gods had chosen to grant her beloved immortality and powers of his own. I always found that a very sweet twist and a good compromise on the whole mortal partner + immortal partner = heartbreak thing, and man, it’d be so much fun to see Dean turn into an angel out of the blue and zapping himself all over the place by mistake as he learns to fly (and later using that ability to freak out Sam and check on Claire and have dinner with Jody). A girl can dream, right?

(All that said, I understand why so many writers, myself included, keep making Cas human in one way or another: for some it’s a question of fluff and hurt/comfort, and for others a chance to explore this tragedy, this impossible, unconceivable thing: an angel choosing to Fall for a human being - an angel choosing to love, fully and unreservedly, the mess and chaos and guilt and bad dreams that we all carry deep in our hearts. Just - wow.)

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hadjii-blogs-undertale · 7 years

Text

[23 days later]

In reference to https://hadjii-blogs-undertale.tumblr.com/post/163800444030/

@lynns-art-blog

...

And honestly, @everyone-needs-a-hoopoe because there's things in here that go for you too. Please read it through to the end. Or just skip to the very end at first and then go back and read through if you need.

I really, really, really didn’t actually want to get off my butt and do this, for multiple reasons. And not just cuz I’m a lazy jackhole with depression who doesn’t want to do anything in general. But recent events have brought things to a head, and I cannot remain silent any longer.

First, I should like to clarify just where I stand as regarding the Undertale fandom.

The Undertale fandom is a beautiful thing. It is extremely imperfect but I love the fandom and will continue to do so for as long as I am able.

Second, I should like to clarify where I stand as regarding Undertale itself.

It will be difficult however, because I love Undertale more than I am capable of putting into any transferable medium that I know of.

Am I a bit emotionally over-invested in Undertale?

Heck. Yes.

I also don't care that I am.

Undertale has brought more joy and happiness and meaning to my life than literally anything else save my family who raised me and loves me, my religion, and a shortlist of friends, some of whom I only have so dear to my heart because of Undertale, so the point is moot.

I can't say that Undertale cured my depression, because it didn't.

What it did do is it showed me at a critical point in my life that there's something outside the grey murky mire.

I'd considered myself an emotionally open person before Undertale. This was only vaguely true. Current me cannot comfortably say that old me was emotionally intelligent without severe disclaimers.

Old me was an emotionally awkward dirtbag who had some idea of how to be a person but on the whole was completely clueless.

I had forgotten how to feel. Like, really feel. And not just from the depression.

I could occasionally get hits from certain songs and I absolutely lived for those moments but the songs would rapidly hit their saturation levels and I'd be cold again.

Then Undertale came along. I loved the game long before I played it, discovering things about it slowly through an endless flood of my tumblr feed.

It looked like a rather good, cute, compelling little game. Eventually I decided to write a bit of fanfiction about it because it looked really good and I wanted to churn out what would happen if GLaD had an interaction with a murdery timeline.

So I went and researched. I dug and I dug and I dug. This wasn't all of my research, but on one particular tumblr alone I went through 700-odd undertale posts.

Between that and pouring out my heart and soul into the writing as I discovered just how much I could care about these things, or care in general really, I found that I'd left the door open, and something came back. A whole lot of something.

Undertale is a Happy™ game about Happy™ things.

I had learned that maybe sad things weren't all bad back from the days of Background Pony. The difference being, Background Pony had a disappointing, absurd ending. They'd won the right even by my sappy heart to have a sad ending, then they completely botched it. I'd associated one of the most significant songs I know of with it, and they failed terribly.

But Undertale had a good ending. As aggravating as it is to not be able to keep Asriel, much less Chara, in the bounds of the game itself, that's part of the point of the ending. So there was no knee-jerk shock. While it is true that in a practical Undertale implementation, unbounded by the Game Maker engine, fuelled by the raw power of Determination, human spirit, and imagination, surely something more could have been achieved. But that does not take away from the coherent ending of Undertale.

There is a lot of pain in Undertale. So much pain.

It is overwhelming and vivid and searing and scorching and so very, very tangible and understandable and real. Not that the events of the game are real, well, as far as I can tell. The emotions are deep and real, I mean.

This was to me as the gas leak was to Vinny Santorini in Atlantis.

Due to the combined pressure of the mental overhaul Undertale was giving me, and the softness and vulnerability it re-introduced, throwing in re-learning certain cold facts about how much the powers-that-be at my previous job didn't care about doing good work, only making money, more severely than I had previously believed from last year, I lost my ability to continue driving there and showing up every day. Now, due to the way the contract works, and my having left the job gracefully, I am free to go back whenever I want. I was not fired. There are many employees who just go there, work as long as they can, then leave and wait for next season to come back. Their efforts are appreciated, especially when all heck breaks loose at the beginning of the on-season because all the bugs in the software that weren't found yet are harsly exposed. What happened with me is not ideal, nor is it rare or even unusual at this place. In about 3 months I could walk in the door and they'd welcome me with a smile and I'd get back to politely telling people that they're wrong and clueless and fixing their crap for them and half the time doing their job for them. (as if that's terribly different than my current job... just in person now instead of over a phone)

Anyways, so, Undertale hurts. Loving Undertale so deeply hurts a lot.

But it's also happy. It has so much happiness. It's so bright and wonderful. It's a warm, soft, fuzzy hug from goatmom and a slice of butterscotch pie. It's making spaghetti with Papyrus, only using an actual recipe this time and making it turn out well. It's watching anime until 4 am with Alphys and Undyne and suppressing giggles at seeing the two precious gay babies asleep and cuddling. It's hugging Sans and telling him it'll be okay. It's having a lovely tea party with Asgore and Muffet.

It's kissing a sad sapient golden flower on the forehead, buying a bar of chocolate and raising it in the air as a toast before eating it.

Bittersweet happiness sometimes but so very, very good and I love it and I really cannot get enough.

I'm addicted. Addicted to feeling again.

As the band Ghost says, "From the pinnacle to the pit, it is a long way down."

I haven't been to the absolute bottom, in that I haven't been institutionalized/hospitalized/just straight up killed by my depression, But I have been in the shower for 4 hours before from 2 am to 6 am at college, for one thing, so uhhh, nobody can say that I'm utterly clueless about such things without looking like a lunatic.

https://hadjii-blogs-undertale.tumblr.com/post/164567314340

Posts like the above still rip my heart out every time I see them. I've long since re-associated the song mentioned earlier with this particular point of note of Chara.

It's not entirely pleasant, no, but it makes me feel so alive and real and like I'm an actual human being and not an emotionless, soulless automaton covered in flesh.

And the happy posts are just that much brighter because of the contrast.

https://hadjii-blogs-undertale.tumblr.com/post/164689197750 https://hadjii-blogs-undertale.tumblr.com/post/164498003145 https://hadjii-blogs-undertale.tumblr.com/post/164161681835 https://hadjii-blogs-undertale.tumblr.com/post/164061257705

Some people can get by on just fluff alone. There's nothing wrong with that. This is just the way I personally operate. As for me, I've had too much saccharine positivity and "oh dont be sad everything is completely fine and theres nothing to be sad about youre not depressed just get up and go to work son!"

sorry got sidetracked and a little oddly specific there anyways

So the point is from the above wall of text that I have a lot of investment in Undertale and it means a lot to me.

Now, it's time for me to pull receipts.

One receipt, to be exact.

On a semifamous Undertale blog, that I still have not responded to, and quite possibly never will, unless you count this post as a response.

http://charadreemurr.tumblr.com/post/157052680490

I literally couldn't even read their last response for a solid two months because my eyes would skim off the words because they were full of so much utter crap. When I did, I was sorry for it, because it was still so much crap. And no, this isn't like the average tumblr receipt pull, because a lot of the time, a given person has changed for the better, and the receipts you're pulling are for a dramatically different person. This person has not changed and as best as I can tell will never change, or at least not for the next decade or so, unless something dramatic happens. They were the OP of the twitter bustercluck. If you don't know, don't ask, because I don't feel like getting into that right now. I may do so later though in a different post.

All I was trying to do was share a little positivity, and I was met with discourse, hostility, and self-righteousness.

"And second “biological gender” is a statement rife with discontent-"

Pardon my french but wtf m8?

Since then I have learned more thoroughly that in more modern usage, that sex and gender don't have ambiguity and don't need "biological" and "identity" modifiers for clarification, so to a limited extent, they were correct.

However, this does not excuse their behavior. There are many people, myself included back then, that because of their upbringing are uncomfortable saying the word "sex" in any context. I am not now, but I was then, which is why I used "gender" with modifiers for clarification. I gave them multiple chances in earlier reblogs to realize that I was just trying to share a bit of happiness. I clearly conveyed the belief that what's in one's pants doesn't necessarily align with what's in one's head and that it's not a problem. I also clearly stated that when referring to Frisk and Chara, one should use they/them.

And yet, they chose to perceive a threat where there was none. They prefaced their statement with "Yikes" then "Im gonna assume the best here though because i wanna assume people are good"

And completely did not follow through on that.

Statement rife with discontent, indeed.

I was rather hurt by this. Especially, especially because of the uniqueness of their url. They are the one and only charadreemurr. That's a very particular title, and they ought to live up to it.

And here, they did not. Unless Chara Dreemurr really is supposed to be a pretentious self-serving self-righteous paranoid uptight jackhole of a binch. In which case, congratulations, they succeeded.

I showed the post to a different trans friend of mine, and they were shocked by the post as well, looked through their tumblr, and declared the person "basically their least favorite type of person".

To this day, I feel uneasy just seeing the word "yikes" sometimes.

I have mentioned it a few times to some people but this really sent me for a loop. I almost left the fandom on the spot, like far too many good people have done when they were burned by the toxic side of the fandom.

And honestly, if I'd lost Undertale at such a key point in my life, with my job already falling apart, and the other crap I was going through at the time, especially with the election, I cannot safely say that I'd still be here. With the friends that I wouldn't have made solid yet, I probably would have attempted suicide.

And believe me, I'm an engineer. I would not have survived. Knives, pills, guns, rope, water, heights, motor vehicles, police, fire, bleach, all are too unreliable for me. I know exactly how I would do it, if I were to ever do it.

Yeah, I know, it's not anyone's job to make sure I don't commit suicide beyond my own. People who threaten others with their own suicide are horribly manipulative. I am not threatening anyone with my suicide here. I'm not saying "ermagersh dont break up with me or ill literally kill myself" What I am saying is "X happened to me in the past and it's made me want to kill myself" Suicide baiting someone is a terrible thing to do. Accidental baiting someone is not someone's fault, as it's accidental, but generally one should try to avoid it. Very similar to triggering somebody. Don't trigger people. If you do, apologize, and do better in the future, and be more consistent about tags and crap.

Just for the record, due to that and other things that have happened to me, I know that I am not now and not ever going to die by my own hand.

Because, I stood up. I turned around. And like Captain America, I said "No. You move."

Well, in my head. I didn't actually say anything to them.

And I stayed.

And that has made all the difference.

I have a great job now that pays moderately well. I have a wonderful aspec girlfriend now. My life still sucks in so many ways but I actually oftentimes see a light at the end of the tunnel. The world is crap and it's going to get crappier but not everything will be bad forever.

Now, we get to the center of the issue, having explained some needed context.

Nonbinary Frisk and Chara.

I love nb Frisk and Chara.

I have not and will never make a Frisk or Chara that is anything but nb.

At one point, a certain Frisk was going to maybe use She/They (or He/They, hadn't decided yet) instead of just They when they became a parent, but I scrapped that idea long before any of this.

It is completely correct to use they/them pronouns when talking about Frisk and Chara in general. These are all that are used in the game itself.

The pertinent question though is does this mean that Frisk and Chara are canonically nonbinary, and what of people who make variants/instances that aren't nonbinary?

Thus far, most of the argument I've seen in favor of nonbinary being a forcible requirement is only slightly more solid than claiming that the Boss in the Saints Row series must be nonbinary, as an example.

Yes, it is true that in SR2 and later, one chooses the boss's sex.

However, they also choose a voice, and the voice doesn't necessarily have to match the physical sex. Trans and NB Bosses are completely plausible within the game's canon. All dialogue just refers to the Boss as They/Them, regardless of player choice, to the best of my knowledge. Or just refers to them as "The Boss". In SR:GOOH, Satan (yes, the literal Prince of Darkness, ruler of literal actual Hell) refers to The Boss as "They" so yeah. Anyways.

Honestly the strongest argument I've seen in favor of NB Frisk and Chara being canon is "Because NB people could use the representation!" Which boils down to "Because I said so!" Which boils down to "Because f*** you, that's why"

Now, I personally love this reasoning and I'm already on board, but with three quirks.

1. I can see why other people may not be so satisfied with this. 2. I cannot see this as an absolute requirement preventing any other possible interpretation of Frisk and Chara being okay. 3. I do not find this a remotely strong enough reasoning to condone attacking other people over it.

I personally headcanon NB Frisks and Charas being by far the dominant kind across the entire Undertale trunk. And I look across the internet at the many, many wonderful creative people who have instanced Frisk and Chara, and I see that this is so. And this is how it should be.

Frisk and Chara are excellent NB representation.

I quite firmly believe Tobyfox intended this to be so, and created them as such.

On a side note, I just found out the "my last wish for undertale is that when discussion of it fades it dies peacefully instead of morphing into a garbage cesspool" tweet was faked. Probably should've figured that out a long time ago, that's not quite how toby tweets.

...

Anyways,

https://twitter.com/UnderTale/status/644614840925978624

Tobyfox, the one who made Frisk and Chara so readily NB, who put so much NB representation into the game in general, did not ask for this. He did not create them to be sticks to beat others with. They were a gift of kindness. To say "Hey. Hey you. You matter and are important and are valid. Have two complex characters who have no indicated and strongly ambiguous gender, not even barriers blocking a particular interpretation."

Thats the kicker. No barriers blocking a particular interpretation. The road goes both ways.

Frisk and Chara were meant to be characters one identified with. "It's me, Chara." "It's you!"

Frisk and Chara ought to be NB, yes. Unless otherwise specified, they're NB.

Thing is, not everyone who plays Undertale is nb.

real shocker there yeah

Point is, hurting someone who's not nb for identifying with Chara or Frisk is on the same level of behavior as yelling at someone for being kin with the same character as someone else, or yelling at someone for selfshipping with the same character as someone else.

It's immature, unkind, greedy, and completely unnecessary. Even illogical.

Even if Frisk and Chara were real in their own timelines and not just pixels on a screen, there are an infinite number of instances and infinite number of variations of them.

Even if infinities don't appease one, and they demand to examine the situation proportion/representation-wise, NB Frisk and Chara dominate the multiverse.

And if that does not satisfy, then what will?

Even if the entire infinite expanse was filled solely with nb Charas and Frisks, and there was only one Frisk across the trunk who was not nb, because they were created by one author in memory of a cis person who played and loved Undertale and fought through the entire game reset after reset, in a fruitless effort to save Asriel, will you rip that from their hands, in the name of "equal representation"?

Will you be like David in the bible, who had more than anyone could ask for, and lost it all because he wanted one last thing? One more person to be theirs as well?

There is a song by Tool which is very relevant here.

https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/tool/rightintwo.html

"Don't these talking monkeys know that Eden has enough to go around? Plenty in this holy garden, silly monkeys, Where there's one you're bound to divide it. Right in two."

I'm sorry, but I cannot condone vitriol over this. I cannot condone such hateful attitude and behaviors.

Just like the antifa who was punched by another antifa at a protest because they judged them by mere appearance to be a fascist, hatred doesn't accomplish anything.

There are times and places when due to the actions of other people, there is no valid choice remaining but violence.

This is seen in Undertale. Even when attempting to run a True Pacifist route, one has to beat down Asgore, and/or Flowey. This was seen back in WWII. We could not allow the Axis powers to enslave the world and murder whomever they wished.

This is not the case here.

Yes, there are those who purposely seek to misgender Frisks and Charas all around. Such folks correctly are rebuffed and banished to the shadows. And people who argue that Frisk or Chara canonically have to be a boy or girl really need to find a new hobby.

Those, if anyone, are the enemy. The lost, clueless, angry, bitter enemy, who need to be talked to and brought into the fold of those who know better, in true Undertale MERCY fashion. Or, if they will not listen, to be sent away, and blocked if harassment continues.

Random creatives on the internet who create a Frisk or Chara, maybe modelled after themselves, maybe after someone else, doens't matter, anyways, who happen to create one that isn't NB are not the enemy. Some young unlearned cis 12 year old who wants to be like Frisk and thinks Frisk is just like them, or that they are Frisk, and has little involvement with NB matters, or perhaps just hasn't yet heard of or seen how well NB and Chara and Frisk go together, is not the enemy.

NB folk have a lot of very, very real enemies. We have a long way to go as a species. Please, do not make up enemies where there are none.

I ask anyone who attacks others solely for having a different idea of Chara and Frisk's gender to please reconsider.

Please, spread NB Frisks and Charas all around the net. Let them enter the hearts of everyone who can appreciate this beautiful game. Not through anger and aggression, but through love and kindness and patience.

If you cannot abide my having such a stance on this, Mel, then I suppose this is farewell if you must break off all contact. And if you must leave, you may keep that commission money, whether or not you ever finish the art.

Thank you to anyone who reads the entirety of my words.

#language warning #suicide warning #meta #discourse #general trigger warning #things get deep here and i'm sorry but i had to share how i feel

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kaitymccoy123 · 7 years

Text

Upside Down (part 3)

Intro: In the last one I ended with a twist, and you are all worried about Scotty. Here is that worry in the reader.

A little bit of angst in this one, a love letter, a lot of worry.

Pairing: Scotty x reader (and best friend!Jim Kirk)

Word Count: 1,938

Warnings: totally 100% fake engineering everything, (I was too lazy to actually come up with proper terms so I just made up words), eventual injury, swears.

Summary: The starting point for this fic was Scotty x reader who loves engineering as much as he does. So that’s where I went with this fic. You are second-in-command engineer and Scotty one day ends up being in charge, much to your chagrin. You butt heads. Scotty gets hurt. Feelings get hurt (mostly my own). Welcome to my trashcan.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

-Enjoy!-

On your shift the day after you had stayed up far too late with Scotty, you were informed that he would be going on an away mission to assist in repairing a ship, and you were to stay behind and be the acting chief of engineering.

"Not that I don't basically run this ship on my own anyway." You snorted to yourself as you snapped your com shut, thinking that if Scotty was here he would have shook his head and gave you one of his teasing smiles.

Thinking of that put a smile on your face as you began your shift, excited to be in charge.

The next two days left you less excited to be in charge, as you quickly missed Scotty's witty banter and your heated debates about the details of the ship.

You were lounging around Scotty's workbench on the third day that he was gone, the ship running smoothly, and you had everyone kept busy making sure it stayed that way.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, a piece of paper, tucked into the drawer of the very messy workstation. But that wasn't what caught your attention, it was your name, written in the corner of the paper in Scotty's barely legible script. You couldn't help your curiosity as you reached for it, quickly glancing around the room, as if Scotty was going to suddenly show up and berate you for snooping.

The paper itself looked like it had been through the washing machine, crumpled and stained, maybe at on point a page of a note book, torn out. The words were written in pencil, and you were right, it was your name written in the corner.

Dear Y/N,

You are one of the most infuriating, stubborn, quick-witted people I have ever met. I don't know how we made it through the first week of working together. I thought one of us was going to kill the other.

But once you got your head out of your ass. Once we started to get along, we were actually able to work together, and were finally able to put both of our big brains together and get stuff done.

You snorted as you read on:

And I'm sorry for yelling at you. I know I already told you that, but I really am. I am especially sorry for dismissing you that first week. I know you probably don't care that much but I regret pulling rank and turning on you like that. I just couldn't stand you looking at me with such hatred and contempt, like I was just some stiff old guy that was getting in your way. It nearly killed me.

Because if you looked at me like that, I would never stand a chance.

Because I am enthralled by you.

You stopped breathing.

Which is why I am writing all this stuff down rather than saying it to your face. But you'll never read this because I would probably die of embarrassment. Because when I look at you, my brain goes haywire. I lose all ability to coherently form a sentence. Maybe that's why I tease you so much, because anything else would come out as gibberish and you would think me a mad old fool.

It scares me, the way I feel about you, it makes me want to turn and run. Because I don't deserve someone as fierce and intelligent and beautiful as you. But sometimes, the way you smile at me, it gives me hope, like you might harbour feelings for me too, but it's only fleeting, and the next moment you are yelling at me or teasing me or nearly zapping me with a live wire.

So, if you ever do read this, just know that I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. And every moment since.

Yours, Montgomery

You were an idiot.

The overhead com system sounded: Dr. McCoy to the medbay, immediately.

Your heart dropped in your chest. For some reason you knew exactly what the call was for. And you were on your feet and dashing down the hallway before you could stop yourself, stuffing the letter into your pocket.

Skidding into the medbay, you were met with a cacophony of chaos, people running around everywhere, yelling, and machines were beeping and you could see flashes of injuries from the people lying on the biobeds. Your heart was racing in your chest as you looked for, and dreading finding, the familiar red shirt and whispy brown hair that belonged to Scotty.

A biobed slammed into your elbow and careened by, being pushed by a group of nurses, the red shirt making you take a second look, but it wasn't Scotty.

Suddenly, a flash of familiar command gold appeared in the medbay and you stalked right up to him.

"Jim, what happened?" You demanded almost breathlessly.

"Away mission gone wrong, the building that they were in was invaded, there were a lot of... casualties." Jim explained, his eyes barely meeting yours and he began to stalk past you but you grabbed his arm.

"Scotty." You dug your fingers into his arm and he looked back at you, recognizing the look of desperation, "where's Scotty?"

He looked at you with sympathy, "We'll find him, Y/N. I promise."

And then he was gone, into the chaos, and you were left frozen in the middle of it, feeling more alone, more helpless, than you had ever felt before.

When you realized you were more in the way than anything in the medbay, you retreated back to the engineering room, pulling the letter out of your pocket and reading it over and over, your trembling fingers nearly tearing the worn paper. You fought an internal battle with yourself, forcing yourself not to cry because if you did, you were going to turn into a sniveling mess, no use to anyone, and you were supposed to be in charge.

But worry made ice flow through your veins and you couldn't focus on anything, even when Keenser came by and tugged on your sleeve.

When your com beeped, you swear you took a breath for the first time in 20 minutes.

"Y/N here." You trembled.

"We found him." It was Jim's voice, and though you should be elated at his words, his somber tone made fresh tears prick at your eyes.

"I'll be right there."

Snapping the com shut, you forced your stiff limbs to move from their perched position on the stool and you made your way to the medbay for the second time that day.

"What happened?" You squeaked when you were met with an impenetrable wall of Jim Kirk on your way into the medbay.

"We don't know 100%. He lost a lot of blood. Bones is working on him now." Jim explained.

"Is he going to be okay?" You stammered, a tear sneaking its way down your cheek and you wiped it away quickly.

Jim met your gaze firmly, his hand squeezing your forearm once, "They don't know yet." His voice was quiet, and you knew he was worried as well.

"He has to be okay, Jim." You whispered, pleading with the somber captain.

And then a change in Jim's expression, barely noticable, a raise in an eyebrow, his mouth falling open a millimeter more, and it was like he knew. The expression was a mirror and made you realize you cared for Scotty much more than you'd like to admit. More than you even realized.

Jim gave you a knowing nod and placed his hand on your shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before he disappeared out the medbay doors.

And once again you were alone. And once again you didn't know if your heart was going to be ripped out of your chest.

Eventually they let you in to see him, after Dr. McCoy had deemed him stable enough.

It was nearly a week after the accident, and you had been forced back to the engineering room, trying to keep the ship afloat while you felt like you were drowning. You didn't know if you'd ever felt so worried in your entire life, to the point where you were questioning if you should even be worried, as you had only known Scotty for a few weeks before the accident.

But it was like a disease, like he had become implanted into your brain, and you heard him and saw him wherever you went. If you were fixing something, you knew exactly how he would tell you you were doing it wrong. If you were lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling in an feeble attempt to sleep, you heard his laugh or the lilt of his accent, shooting back a sarcastic comment at something you said.

Dr. McCoy threatened to keep you in the medbay as a patient, commenting on how often you were in there, checking up on Scotty, but you knew he noticed your dark rimmed eyes and the few pounds you'd shed at the lack of appetite.

Then, one day, he agreed it was time you could go in. Your breath instantly caught in your chest and you nearly cried at the relief of being able to see Scotty after a week of torture.

He looked awful.

He was tucked into the biobed, the white sheets accentuating just how grey his skin looked, how dark the circles were under his eyes. There was a bandage over a cut on his forehead, and a splint on his left wrist, a machine hovering over it that you recognized as a bone regenerator. Another, similar machine was working on his right leg, which was wrapped in a thick white bandage. He had many wires and tubes coming out of him that were connected to several machines, including one that was down his throat, which you recognized as a ventilator.

"He's getting better, despite what he looks like." Dr. McCoy's gentle voice sounded from behind you, and he stepped into the room.

"He looks like crap." You let out a watery laugh, finally letting the tears that you had held in for so long find their way down your cheeks.

"Yeah well, he's a fighter." A strong hand came down on your shoulder, making you release a little sob, "He's going to be fine, Y/N." Dr. McCoy's thumb stroked lines into your shoulder.

"Yeah, kid, you worry too much." A new voice sounded and a flash of command gold came into view. Jim.

When he saw your tear-stained face he offered a weak smile before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you, Dr. McCoy's hand falling away as you nearly fell into Jim's embrace, finally letting yourself feel all the emotions you kept at bay the entire week.

Jim held you for what felt like hours, stroking your back and whispering soft encouragements into your ear.

"That stupid idiot, coming into my engineering room, turning everything upside down, and then going and nearly getting himself killed." You griped, taking shaky breaths from your spot against Jim's chest.

"I don't think the engineering room is the only thing he's turned upside down." Jim noted as he pushed you away, tucking a few locks of hair behind your ear before tapping your chin with his finger.

Looking up at Jim, he gave you a soft mischievous smile, and it made you blush, "Shut up." You sniffed and pushed him away playfully, making him laugh softly.

Then you turned to Scotty, approaching him achingly, but you didn't cry anymore, he was alive.

You reached out and grabbed Scotty's hand, stroking your thumb over the warm skin, watching the way his chest rose and fell in even breaths thanks to the ventilator.

Dr. McCoy said he was getting better, it would just take some time. And you realized, for Montgomery Scott, you had all the time in the world.

-Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!-

I don’t know why I keep writing Scotty writing love letters to people, but I just feel like he wouldn’t be able to vocalize his feelings well (or just spit them out all at once) so he would want to write them down.

-Permanent tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @feelmyroarrrr @jefferson-in-the-tardis@anyakinamidala@digitalmoonhowell @trekken81@fandomheadrush@kirkaholic123 @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @pinkamour1588 @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @starmission @curiosity-killed-the-speedster

Upside Down Tag List (let me know if you want to be tagged in the series): @whatif-animagineblog @secondsandstars @youre-on-a-starship @gracieminabox @fanscribbling @zaczytanka-fangirl @phanofmanythings @newhappiness430 @pokeharvest @texasblues @space-jims @rampant-salamander @tangle-of-ivy @webhoard @happylilprompts

#startrek #startrekimagine #startrekfic #startrekwhoa #scottyxreader #montgomeryscottxreader #montgomeryscott #scotty #scottyfluff #scottyangst #upsidedown

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

Text

Sticking with the Schuylers (37)

I’m still not fully back from NYC yet and I’m not sure I’ll ever be-my life is about to become a constant loop of planning trips-but I did manage to find some sense in this part so I’ll celebrate that!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1112 I 13 14 15 16 17 18A 18B 18C I 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 I 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

Tagging: @ellzabethschuyler, @butlinislin

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse.

December 25th

For once, I want to live;

To feel the breath of air,

A sense of anticipation accompanying each adventure

As if every day is new and exciting

The days are new and exciting

For once, I want to live.

I see the sun and she is mine; wrapped in a warmth that stretches out with the call of my name through gloss-dusted lips.

The errant patterns of weather suffocate my sun.

The shadow her brilliance in malicious streams of fog.

The black smoke billows in bouts of days where she sits on borrowed time,

Before everything reverts to the shadows again.

A hurricane.

She lives in the midst of a wild storm, ripping the peace and the bliss and the place we once knew;

Jersey sheets. Borrowed time. The silk of her laughter finer than the red she had torn off in hunger.

A hurricane.

It consumes me as it had my hopes-my dreams-my town-

My mother.

The darkness which consumes her rolls steadily toward me, hot and taunting, reminding.

I could not save my town.

I could not save my mother.

I can not save Eliza.

A hurricane;

Darkness, doubt, depression. She is my sunshine.

I do not want to live.

…

There is a silence unlike any other, one which suffocates and consumes and envelops Alexander in a darkness he hadn’t realized the room had been cast in all along. The running of the shower sends static through his mind-eyes clouding over the same spot he had been staring at with a grainy fuzz and the whirring of technical issues. He can still feel her, if he tries. Closing his eyes she is there beside him, laughing through half-closed eyes and a dream-thick voice. Maybe she is on her side, letting his body frame hers in a comfort their tired bodies need. But then, that wouldn’t be Eliza. She would be on top of him, limbs stretched over limbs and hands pulling at the blankets. She’d kick him a few times after she’d fallen asleep. Maybe, in the midst of a dream, she’d bump the pillows from their bed. Alexander wouldn’t mind. He’s hers. She could give him a black eye in her sleep-induced flailing of limbs and he’d wear it proudly the next day.

He doesn’t see her go-his eyes are unfocused and blurry, mind devoid of any possibility of a coherent thought. He’s not sure what time it is when he finally blinks, realizes that the static has gone and the room is an echo of his heartbeat and his shaking hands. Alexander rises from the bed, rubbing his eyes and pulling on a pair of boxers from his drawer. The red of her dress stands out against the darkness cast around the room like a target, an attack. He holds the silk in both hands, hanging it back on the hanger over their closet door. It would have gotten wrinkled. It can’t be wrinkled.

From his place by the closet door he can’t hear anything. The creaking of the apartment floors, the running of the tap…his ears ache for the sound of her symphonic soprano humming along to whatever song had been stuck in her head all day. He is met with silence. Alexander crosses the apartment, searching. And then, there’s a plate.

On the counter, one of the square white dinner plates sits full and waiting for him. There’s leftovers wrapped neatly in plastic, alongside the plate of extra treats she had baked for the parties they’d been to. And hidden between them, a note;

Alexander,

I love you. I’ll be home tomorrow. There are so many things I wish I could say to you, but my head isn’t clear and I just need some space to breathe. You are wonderful. You are so good. I won’t blame you if you aren’t here when I get back. I understand. But it’s not you-it could never be you. I need to put my feelings into words but just know that I have never loved anybody more than I love you.

I love you,

Eliza

He holds the paper in his hand. Her handwriting is shaky, and the pen had run out half way through where she had scratched the sides of the paper with it. He isn’t sure what he has just read, can barely decipher the words though the fog that has consumed him. He reaches for his phone and dials, the ringing drawing itself out like the long bow of a violin brushing against its strings.

“Hello?” Alexander can hear the voice on the other side; groggy, clearing their throat. He opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. His voice is broken. Cobwebs barricade the vocalization of his thoughts so instead they appear as ragged breathing. His limbs are numb. His head is spinning. The voice on the other side repeats itself-clearer, more confused. It articulates his name with rising volume and he chokes out a sound in response. There are no words. Somewhere between the lump in his throat and his ragged breathing he squeaks. The voice intensifies.

“Alex?” It’s John-he’d dialed the number so surely, so out of his own head, that it didn’t bring about much shock upon deciphering it. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“It’s happening again.” A bristling of nerves hits like a water balloon exploding against bare skin. Sharp and pricking, it then fades into a pain that lingers and spreads throughout his entire body. He wants to move. He can’t move. Fear consumes his ability to form a coherent decision. The grasp Alexander has on reality is slipping through his panic-stricken fingers.

“I need you to come right now.”

“I’m on my way.” John’s response is immediate, through a voice hardened by concern and a knowledge of past experiences. He asks no questions-he’s smarter than that now, knows the pressure a string of inquiries can send. Instead, he launches into a story about his night. Emily had burnt the desserts. Luis and Sarah were fighting. Amaia had gotten everyone sweatshirts with the hospital logo on them. A typical collision of family drama hits Alex in waves as he stands shock still in the kitchen, letting John’s voice ground his feet on cold hardwood. The singular candle is still burning. He watches the flame flicker, flashes of orange and yellow melded together in a hesitant sort of form. Having lost its intended aesthetic it is only a muted reminder of what had happened just moments before.

There is only silence when John finally arrives, out of breath with snow-soaked shoes. He pounds on the door, ignoring the time of night and the ritzy neighbors and anything else that doesn’t involve getting to the other side of the door.

“Let me in, Alex. Come unlock the door and let me in. We can talk-or not, that’s fine too. I mean knowing you there will be talking involved, but,”

The lock clicks and John pushes the door open with a heavy hand. His eyes search the apartment rapidly until they settle on the sunken frame standing on unsteady feet at the kitchen counter.

Alexander is dressed only in his boxers, with hair standing in all directions. The muscles in his back press clear against his skin along with the lines of his shoulder blades. He is leaning on the counter, on arms bent at the elbow clearly supporting most of his weight. John calls his name but there is no response, verbal or physical. It is as if he is not even there. He crosses the apartment in two even strides, appearing to Alex as an apparition-a reminder of the light wrapped in the reason of darkness.

He is both elated and upset upon John’s hand patting his back. His voice is clear, and soft, but it is not silk. He is calm without meditation, half a symphony. There is a thankfulness in his sunken eyes but the smile he attempts to show cracks at the corner of his mouth. It is unfamiliar, and immediately paining.

“She left.” They’re the only words he can muster. John follows the trail of his eyes to a candle set on the counter, its flame quivering with the deep exhalation of Alex’s breath. He lets the silence linger, treading on the situation with trained trepidation. With a shaking hand Alex reaches for a paper folded haphazardly and discarded on the counter. When it lands in John’s hands Alex leans further into the counter, resting his head on its chilled marble surface.

John looks over the writing with care; the loop of her letters, the way her words would have been narrated in her smooth and nurturing tone. He understands the situation in pieces, but is unable to fit them together without the clues that lie between the lines. What had happened to cause Eliza to up and go-and on Christmas? Alex is destroyed, deflated. Through the muffled tone of his head against his arm, John just barely makes out the thickness of his voice.

“What if she never comes back?”

She climbs shivering into the cab. It had taken three tries to bring one over to her spot on the curb, and Eliza felt the ends of her dripping hair beginning to freeze from the cold it’s enduring. The driver nods at her as she climbs in, but says nothing as she directs him just a few blocks away. She’s unsure of just how she looks, but she can imagine; her hair is wild and dampened against her head. The thick coating of makeup she’d put on is almost all but washed off, save the tints of red that linger still after the boiling of the shower. Her teeth are chattering. She’d practically run out of the apartment, throwing on Alexander’s sweatshirt and sweatpants. There is comfort in his scent. It doesn’t last long.

She’s sure she’s tipped the driver too much but she is so thankful to see her destination that she no longer cares. Hood up, Eliza’s feet carry her without conscious awareness the eight flights up, to a door she knocks on with weakened power. There is no answer. She pulls her phone from her pocket with shaking hands and dials.

“Please let me in.”

“Eliza? What time is it? Are you-you’re here?”

“Just-I-just open the door.”

She is a flurry of limbs, colliding with Angelica in a force that has her stumbling, bracing herself on two feet as her younger sister grabs at the fabric of her shirt. Eliza’s body is pressed as physically close to hers as possible, and Angelica responds with a hold tight enough to stabilize her. She shakes. Her knees buckle beneath the sudden release of emotions and the older Schuyler leads her to the couch. It is too much to bear the load of the night standing up.

Angelica is a well-masked flurry of panic; an arm around her sister as her lips are drawn into a carefully crafted line. She searches Eliza immediately, eyes scanning the minimally exposed spaces of skin for clues-for signs of damage. There is not much to see besides the well-worn Columbia hoodie, drowning her body as her hands tuck into sleeves too long for her arms. Only the audible manifestations of grief are clear; Eliza has stopped attempting to conceal herself. The presence of her older sister is a chemical reaction, persisting and pushing her through the beginnings of catharsis.

She does not speak when she has caught her breath, nor when Angelica brings her a glass of water. She downs the liquid to replenish what her tears have taken. There are a few hiccups-catches of breath in her throat that have her older sister’s ears perked and ready to listen.

Angelica is met only with ringing. John emerges with her cellphone in his hand, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light. She takes it with a roll of her eyes, and at first he’s offended by it. Then, she gestures with a flick of her eyes to the couch. Eliza cradles the empty glass in her hand, a finger tracing its rim. Her lower lip quivers but she no longer cries. Her eyes are focused on the glass, even upon John’ entrance-as if he’s not even there. She is wrapped in the realm of her own thoughts.

Concern plows over John as he observes her. In his eight years with Angelica, he had also been blessed with eight years of Eliza. She was immediately accepting of him, moving dousing the nerves Angelica had set aflame with words of reassurance and love. He’d taken to her as an older brother would; flying to her defense by Angelica’s side at each turn of events that high school-that being a senator’s daughter-had brought along. To John Church Eliza is breath of air, a cheer when he’s down. She’s grace, and kindness, and support. Now, however, she is just empty.

He wonders what is going on but does not want to pry; to bother her more than she already seems to be. So he sits, leaving a thin line of space between them, and settles his hands in his lap.

“You had better have a good explanation for this, Hamilton. Because I swear to you if I find out you’re behind this? I’ll wring your fucking neck.” Angelica is practically screaming through the phone, anger audible through sharp diction and words in terse staccato. There’s a long pause-Eliza has lifted at the sound of the familiar last name but her eyes remain trained on the rim of her glass. It is both a hope and a shock of pain, settling her back down once more in a flurry of emotions. Angelica nods, running a hand through her hair as she glances over at her little sister.

“…I never meant to push her…I-I asked, I asked every time, and I just…it was amazing. And then she just…” He chokes back his words, the noise carrying a physical pain which slams into the oldest Schuyler with brute force, squeezing her heart. His words narrate the scene before her, in which Eliza has leaned into John with a prolonged sigh and closed eyes.

“I don’t know what to do…I don’t want…I can’t lose her.”

“Alex…”

“She’s there, right? She’s safe?” It takes a moment for Angelica to answer. The initial inquiry, the knowledge of where Eliza is…there is conflict. One side of herself is so thankful, so at peace with the thickness of Alex’s voice and the way his words slow with the thought of her. But then there is safety. She does not doubt Alex, but herself. Above everything else, there is Eliza.

“Please.” Alex’s voice cracks, his sentence stopped mid-way by a ragged breath she can feel herself take in a mirror of his own. “I just need to know that she’s alright.”

“She’s safe. She’s here.” Eliza finally glances up from her glass to watch Angelica nod through shining eyes. When the conversation ends, after a few more words of appeasement, her older sister passes the phone from hand to hand, watching her own actions in a moment of rest.

“He says that he loves you.” She shakes her head as her own eyes fill with emotion-with the loss of serenity between two of her favorite people. “-and to take all of the time that you need.”

Eliza nods once, slow and methodical, as the words digest. They linger in her mind, even as Angelica and John lead her to the spare bedroom. Their voices murmur back and forth in a conversation she is unable to understand. Their words are a foreign language to her mind, which is numb and aching and unsure of what has happened. Suddenly she is laying on the futon, wrapped in a blanket with Angelica beside her. Her eyes search Eliza’s, one hand brought to the air-dried tendrils of soft brown which frame her face.

When they were children, Eliza often begged for these moments. There was an unspoken rule between them-all three of them-that came with Angelica’s open bedroom door. There is no trace to a beginning of this pattern, as if it had simply been written within their mismatched DNA. Her bed was a refuge; a place of serenity when the world seemed to close up around them. At three and six it had been thunderstorms; pudgy feet barreling across the hall and diving underneath colorful, ruffled sheets. There they’d lay pressed nose to nose, Angelica reciting make-believe stories as Eliza giggled along.

At twelve, nine, and six, Peggy was in the middle, always the first to sleep. Angelica told Eliza what it was like to be in middle school. She calmed worries with stories both embarrassing and bright, amplifying her own triumph in hopes of granting her sister some courage to face the new school. She had told her not to worry. Eliza never worried with her older sister around.

At seventeen and fourteen, when Peggy had been away at camp, Angelica had given Eliza the sex talk as they shared covers and pillows. She told honest stories; she and John had been in the Hampton’s guest house, their parents at a gala, Eliza with a friend at the pools. She made sure Eliza would be prepared.

“You don’t owe yourself to anybody.” She’d pushed soft strands of brown from her little sister’s face. Even then, the brush of Angelica’s hand against her cheek had been a relief. “You need to love yourself as much as you want somebody to love you.”

At twenty and twenty-three, Eliza and Angelica lay nose to nose in the futon in Angelica’s guest room. The walls are warm with a mocha colored brown, the sheets a soft cotton left made for whenever a sister would come to visit. Angelica runs her fingers through Eliza’s hair; watches as her sister takes shallow, evened breaths.

“He probably hates me.” She whispers the words though the dark, admitting them as a worry she’d rather keep hidden away. But under the covers with her sister the anxieties spill easily through the air between them.

“He doesn’t hate you. Alex could never hate you.”

“I would hate me.”

The words stab Angelica as they come so easily, so hushed and drawn back from her sister’s lips. Eliza’s eyes are red, and puffy. She holds back her tears with the swallow of a lump in her throat. She is hushed by a hand on her cheek; by blankets drawn further to her chin. Eliza sinks into the comfort, body numbed and drained of its last leg of life. Even here, in the serenity, she craves Alexander. Her body pulls to him, imagines that he might be there although she knows he will not come tonight. He respects her too much-she’d asked for this space. She needs this space, and yet his name is the thought on her mind as she relaxes into Angelica’s protective touch.

“I need help…I’m ready for help.” She breathes the admission as her eyes finally shut, succumbed to a sleep induced by exhaustion.

#mine: SWTS #hamliza #hamliza au #now i sleep #i'm still drained #and i have jobs 2 and 3 this week too so #dead

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imaginekpoptrash-blog · 7 years

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Gangsta Luv (G Dragon fic/Ch.10)

A/N: Chapter 10 of my arranged marriage GD Mafia fic. Also, quick heads up. I recently got a temp job where I work just about all day long..almost every day (I get to come and go as I please but ya know, have to make some money) so I don’t really have much time to write anymore...don’t really have time at all tbh...So, I’m not sure if the next chapter will be out on time or not next week...Sorry about that. I wanted to let you guys know though. I’ll try to get it written and stuff by then but try is the key word here...anyway, have the 10th chapter for now. Hope you guys enjoy it!! Much love to you all!~ :D Red

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.11 Ch.12 Ch.13 Ch.14 Ch.15 Ch.16

Word Count: 2,547

Genre: Everything at one point or another. Also, be warned of explicit language, gun and drug use at one point or another, and violence. I feel like I need to put this on every chapter from now on. You have been warned.

Summary: What does one do when their future is already picked out for them? Try to escape over and over again or accept their fate?

Jiwoo could feel everyone’s eyes on her. She knew they were wondering if she had gone completely insane and if this was some kind of side effect from being locked up in her room for too long. She walked up the stairs to the front entrance with a happy Kaiser trotting beside her, as if he had made it his personal mission to guard her with his life from now on out.

Kaiser was a ten month old, eighty-five pound Rottweiler made of pure muscle. He easily reached Jiwoo’s knees in height and it was easy for her to understand why everyone would be afraid of such a large, fierce-looking dog. She had to admit, the name “Kaiser” fit him perfectly. No one dared come close to her as long as Kaiser walked beside her, too afraid of the dog and what he may end up doing if they were to do so.

“Princess, wait! You can’t just barge into his office and announce that you’re taking his dog! That’s suicide!”

Jiwoo stopped and turned to watch Seungri as he ran over to her. Kaiser remained seated beside her and watched the out-of-breath male carefully as he stopped in front of the pair.

“Jiyong won’t hurt me,” Jiwoo declared, sure of her answer until Seungri laughed.

“He won’t hurt you? Did you forget how you got that bruise on your arm in the first place? The only reason you’re allowed to roam around the building and the grounds is because Top talked the boss into giving you some ‘exploring room’ as he called it. If the boss had his way you’d be locked up in that bedroom until you learned some damn manners and stopped trying to escape.”

Jiwoo heard Kaiser growl when Seungri raised his voice, but it fell silent as Jiwoo thought over the words that just fell from his lips.

“Top is the reason why I’m allowed out? Does he not trust me?” She paused and chuckled to herself. “I guess I can see why. I should thank him later for that…”

Trapped in her thoughts, Jiwoo turned on her heels, murmuring nothing but a small “come” to Kaiser before making her way back toward her goal.

Seungri sighed heavily as he watched Jiwoo for a moment, silently wishing that he’d never be put on ‘princess duty’ ever again. He then reluctantly followed her up the stairs and down the hall toward Jiyong’s office where he knew death awaited him. Jiwoo, on the other hand, felt the need to ask Jiyong a few questions while telling him that she was taking his dog. She overheard the boy beside her sigh and looked over at him. His head was hung low as he stared down at the carpet. She could tell he was mentally preparing himself for what was about to come.

“You know you don’t have to come with me, right?”

Seungri smiled and raised a brow at her. “If I don’t I’m definitely dead. There’ll be more questions if I don’t than if I do.”

Jiwoo thought for a moment and found what the boy said to be true. Coming with her was his best chance of survival.

“If it makes you feel any better you were always my favorite. Besides Jiyong, of course...”

Jiwoo mumbled the last part and Seungri laughed this time, his laughter placing a smile on her own face.

“Thanks, princess. That’s good to know.”

Jiwoo took a deep breath, anxiety suddenly creeping up from the depths of her soul the longer she stared at the large wooden office door. All the confidence she had minutes ago slowly dissipated as she could practically see Jiyong sitting at his desk through the closed door.

“You ready?” Seungri questioned.

She nodded confidently with the last bit of courage she had left, watching as he opened the door. The two stood in the doorway, eyes wide as the clash of broken glass rung through the air.

Top sat in the chair unfazed as he sipped on his drink while Jiyong paced back and forth through the room rubbing his temples. They were completely unaware of the girl standing in the doorway.

“Shit..we’ve got perfect timing,” Seungri whispered and Jiwoo’s heart dropped at the sight.

Jiyong was pissed, furious as he mumbled words under his breath that no one could make out. Top turned toward the door and Seungri guessed he had heard the whispered comment. He offered the younger boy a smirk before turning to Jiwoo, a bit taken aback when his eyes landed on the dog.

“Boss, it looks like you have more guests...one with a surprising ‘gift’.”

Jiyong stopped in his tracks and turned his head toward the doorway. His eyes were cold, sinister even, as he stared the pair down, his glare freezing Jiwoo in her spot.

“Tell me, doll...do you want to explain to me how the hell my dog got out of its cage?”

The harshness in his voice wiped the answers from her mind and Jiwoo was left standing there unable to think. Unable to speak. He was cold-blooded, seeming inhuman, as rage overcame him.

“I...he...I just…”

Jiyong grew more and more impatient the longer Jiwoo took to answer him, and she could tell. She knew Seungri would be of no help in this situation, he’d only talk himself into trouble even deeper.

“You what?”

The brutal sound of Jiyong’s voice almost made her flinch, and Jiwoo suddenly wished she had never walked into the room in the first place. He was irritated for some reason or another and she secretly hoped that he wouldn’t end up taking it all out on someone.

“I...” Jiwoo tried to form a coherent sentence to the best of her abilities. It felt as if her mind was repeatedly telling her to shut up, that right now was not the right time to say anything. It wasn’t until she looked Jiyong over that she noticed the gun clutched tightly in his hand. What was it that had pissed him off so badly?

“Boss! There’s a-” another voice burst through the thick tension that had filled the room and was quickly silenced with a loud bang, followed by a silent whistle as the bullet passed by Jiwoo’s head and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

Jiwoo’s eyes grew wide and her heart stopped. She felt sick to her stomach when she noticed the man lying on the floor out of the corner of her eye, a puddle of blood getting larger by the second and time stood still. No one dared to move, seemingly caught up in the moment. She tried her hardest to process what just happened, but it was near impossible for her. Kaiser had shrunk to hide behind her legs and refused to come out while Jiyong sighed deeply, setting the blazing gun back down on his desk still clutching it tightly in his hand.

“Feel better now?” Top was first to speak up as he questioned Jiyong.

Seungri’s muscles loosened up, too, and he sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your trigger happiness, boss”

Jiyong let himself fall into his desk chair and looked over the gun.

“I do actually feel a bit better. Now back to you, doll. Why the hell do you have my dog? And why did you let her, Seungri?”

Seungri tensed back up a bit. “You specifically told me not to lay a finger on her. There was nothing I could do to stop her from taking him.”

Jiyong nodded before turning his attention back to Jiwoo and Kaiser.

“Kaiser, come,” Jiyong commanded the dog and he obeyed.

Top smirked and watched Jiwoo’s eyes follow the rottweiler to Jiyong’s side. He sneered when he saw the slight surprise on Jiwoo’s face. Jiwoo noticed the dog’s demeanor change while he sat obediently by his master's side and finally understood why Seungri was so afraid of him. His beautiful soft and playful brown eyes suddenly changed to ones of a killer and she knew Seungri wasn’t lying earlier when he told her that Kaiser once ripped the limbs off of a man. She fully believed him now. Jiyong looked intimidating, powerful, with Kaiser by his side. Kaiser was definitely Jiyong’s dog. Jiwoo started to wonder if marching up to his office with the intentions of claiming his dog as her own was such a good idea.

“Kaiser isn’t just a puppy. He was in that cage for a reason, so what makes you think you could just let him out and roam through the house? Do you know how fast he could rip someone apart? My guess is a matter of minutes...and all I’d have to do is give him the command.” Kaiser sat still, his eyes focused on her as she stood in the doorway.

“Hey boss, why don’t you show her? Could make for a fun show.”

Jiwoo’s head turned to look at a sneering Top and fear ran through her veins at the thought of another person dieing just because Jiyong couldn’t control his emotions. She refused to turn around to look at the body behind her, acting as if it wasn’t there in the first place. In her mind, if she pretended it didn’t happen then maybe, just maybe, it really was only an hallucination.

“Maybe you’re right. Do you want to see why Kaiser stayed locked up, doll?”

Jiwoo could see the eagerness in his eyes, the amusement that came with sending the dog after some innocent man just for the hell of it and Jiwoo couldn’t take it anymore. Kaiser was gentle. He was playful and kind, not a killing machine. She furiously shook her head as tears threatened to fall and Top snickered at her.

“Seems like the princess doesn’t care to see the deadly side of Kaiser,” Top stated, a hint of hilarity in his voice and Jiwoo turned to glare at him.

“Kaiser isn’t a killing machine! He’s a beautiful, kind soul that wouldn’t hurt a fly! It’s your fault he’s like that! Why would you kill innocent people?! What have they done to deserve this?!” She screamed at Top from the top of lungs, furious at the boy for suggesting something so horrid.

“And you!” she started as she turned on Jiyong who interrupted her before she could ever get another word out.

“Where do you think you are?! This is a fucking mafia headquarter. THE headquarter at that. I am the fucking boss here, so you better start thinking twice about what comes out of your damn mouth. I don’t need a damn reason to send MY dog after anyone. I’m cold blooded and don’t give a damn about what happens to them. You should know that by now. I really thought you were smarter than that, but I guess I overestimated you. Don’t make me lock you up again until you learn some damn respect. I will not be talked to like that in my own house, do you understand?” Jiyong shot back silencing Jiwoo. “Oh, and as far as Kaiser is concerned, he’s going back to his cage.”

Seungri could see the hurt expression on Jiwoo’s face as she stared at the dog that just minutes earlier was completely under her control.

“You know, boss, maybe it’s not such a bad idea to let her keep Kaiser while she roams around here,” Top cut through the silence and all eyes fell on him.

“Kaiser isn’t some play toy for her,” Jiyong stated.

Top smiled, setting the glass that he had held onto until now on the desk. “I know. That’s the point. With everything going on now, maybe it’d be best for her to keep him with her. For extra protection.”

Everyone watched as Jiyong thought it over for a moment.

“Why would she need extra protection here? There’s more than enough people to keep an eye on her, including me. She’s perfectly fine here.”

Top shrugged and stood to his feet. “You’re right, but...you never know. Remember? He found her before...what if he finds her again?”

Top picked up the letter and Jiwoo suddenly understood why Jiyong had been so pissed earlier. It was a mixture of fear and anger. Afraid that someone would harm her and angry that someone even thought of it. Jiyong looked over at Jiwoo before turning to Kaiser. Petting his fur, Jiyong started to mumble to the dog.

“Alright, look here. I know you’re capable of doing some very serious damage to people. Do you see that girl over there?”

Kaiser looked up at Jiyong and turned to Jiwoo as if understanding what he was saying.

“I need you to take extremely good care of her, okay? She’s very precious to me and someone really bad is after her. Under no circumstances are you to let her get hurt. Your job is to keep her safe at all times, got that?”

Kaiser barked once and Jiyong watched his eyes softening. Jiyong nodded in Jiwoo’s direction and Kaiser jumped to his feet and ran over to the girl before sitting by her side once more. From that point on Kaiser would become her new personal bodyguard when Jiyong wasn’t around to keep her safe. Jiwoo smiled down at the dog and petted him, a little surprised Jiyong turned his dog over so easily.

“Consider him as a welcome home present. This is now your new home so make yourself comfortable. You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Jiwoo looked up at Jiyong and could see that he had calmed down considerable from when she first walked in with Seungri.

“Thank you, Jiyong. If you don’t mind I’ll be going to my room now. It’s been a long day, and I’d really like to get some rest.”

Jiyong nodded, agreeing with her statement. It had indeed been a long day. “Sweet dreams, doll.”

Jiwoo smiled, “You know, you’re not as cold as you think you are.”

“Don’t be fooled just because I decided to let Kaiser stay with you. I grew up cold.”

Jiwoo couldn’t help the grin that crossed her lips before she turned and made her way out of his office, making sure not to look down at the body that had to be cleaned up.

“Liar.”

Seungri laughed at her whispered words before following her out. “I’ll find someone to clean your mess. I’m sure you want him up before the blood starts to really soak through your carpet.”

Jiyong grimaced at the motionless body lying in his hallway, blocking the door from completely closing after Seungri and Jiwoo had left.

“That was one of my favorite carpets, too...damn.”

Jiwoo had changed into her pajamas when she noticed the sun going down, turning the sky into a beautiful mix of colors and climbed into bed. Kaiser waited patiently for her to be tucked under her blanket before jumping up on the bed and curling into a ball at the foot of her bed. She smiled at the dog, happy that now she wouldn’t be lonely in her room. Grabbing King from her bedside dresser, she hugged him close to her chest and closed her eyes.

“Good night, Jiyong. Sweet dreams, dragon.”

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zak-graphicarts · 6 years

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Why Animation? Pt 2: Animation as an Art

In my mid project review, I discussed how it was important that I explore the context of animation in more depth. Additionally to exploring my own personal reasons for animating, I wanted to compare the craft to other visual art forms. I’ve talked about why I’m choosing animation, but I’ve been reluctant to discuss why I’m choosing the medium in comparison to another visual art form, like film or comics.

Animation by Richard Williams, exploring different types of animated characters walking.

To begin, I’ll define animation. It’s the technique of photographing successive drawings or positions of puppets or models, to create the illusion of life when the film is shown as a sequence. Animation is about movement, and most importantly - creating that illusion of life. Animation is able to breathe life into anything the artist can imagine - characters, objects, lines or shapes. With animation, the possiblities are endless - bound only by our imagination and technical skill.

Animation is primarily used for entertainment purposes, with cartoons such as Tom and Jerry or films like Toy Story coming to mind. It’s a medium that’s used in almost every motion picture, from subtle computer generated animation to entire films using the stop motion technique. These examples often feature larger than life characters, whether that be anthropomorphic animals or button-eyed girls. With animation, you can do pretty much anything. That’s something that these other visual art forms don’t allow you to do: whether that be film, comics or even computer games.

With film, I’m limited to what I can record on a camera. Obviously there’s endless potential here, but it can be quite restricting when you’re starting out. Whilst film is obviously a visual storytelling medium, I’m also interested in character design and bringing life to my own creations. It’s about this idea of the illusion of life - I’m creating something from nothing - a piece of paper and a pencil. When you film something, or an actor, it’s already there infront of you. There’s a great deal of talent and effort that goes into filmmaking, but with what I want to do - it’s not as interesting, to me, as animation. Film is used to tell stories about human characters, but there’s greater potential for audience engagement when we tell those stories through a universal lense, via toys, robots or monsters. Animation lets us tell stories about human characters through whatever vehicle we want - it allows us to create enthralling characters and render impossible worlds into a reality.

In animation, there’s a heightened sense of reality. Anything is possible, and as an audience, we know that. In an animation, if there’s a racoon and gum ball machine that just starts talking to each other - we don’t question it. Your mind never says ‘that’s impossible’ - it’s the nature, the inherently magical quality of animation. If we were to take the same idea and make it work in live action film, the film would have to establish a clear set of rules for this universe that allow this surreal event to take place, and make sense when it does so. As an audience, we’ve been conditioned to expect anything from animation, as they’re just drawings, or figures on a screen. With a live acton work, however, we expect a certain sense of reality and rules. In order to see something like this in a live acton film, there would have to be a heap of boring exposition saying how two humans switched bodies with these animals - or how they’ve advanced to the point of conversation and thought. With live action, you need to explain everything. With animation, you just need to show it.

‘Regular Show’ - an animated series following the antics of a talking blue jay, racoon and gum ball machine

Unlike film, or even computer games - we don’t need a big budget for animation, no stunt men or fight choreographers, just the ability to draw and pose characters or models. I’m a huge fan of film, and thus I know that live-action has the potential to transcend barriers and tell brilliant stories that resonate with audiences. Despite this, I do believe that animation speaks to everyone - and is universally more appealing to any audience, if done right. The main purpose of film is to tell stories, to entertain or educate the viewer in some way, shape or form. Some of these are more entertaining than others, for example a film like The Raid isn’t really trying to teach you anything, and something like Schindler’s List certainly isn’t trying to make you laugh. But in a medium that’s so focused on visual storytelling, it’s restricted by the use of actors, props and locations.

If we’re comparing animation and live action film, we’re stripping film of any computer generated imagery and animated tricks. I’ve discussed how limitation encourages creativity, but in this instance, it can effectively prevent it. Live action film is suddenly restricted to just stories of human characters, and thus any fantastical, escapist value an audience member might gleam from film has been ripped away. Animation is able to take the ideas of film, acting, directing and cinematography and combine these with limitless creative potential - allowing creators to tell any story they want, regardless of budget or acting schedules.

I’ve mentioned already that my initial interest was rooted in sequential art - comics. I still have a love for the medium, but it’s a craft that isn’t really suitable for a final piece here. I’ve created quite a few comics during this FMP, and a large part of my primary research and practical exploration has been around observational comics, inspired by Sam Elston and Aiden Koch. Drawing different characters walking across a street in panels, though, just isn’t the same as creating a walk animation. They’re very similar mediums, with near limitless creative potential and visual storytelling ability - but where animation creates the illusion of life, comics require the audience to bring those characters and stories to life themselves. Without this audience engagement and interaction, comics are just drawings in a sequence. It’s only when the reader engages with the art, that the story becomes real. Animation isn’t like that - it’s inherently magical and exciting because of the nature of the medium - it’s the difference between a ready-built chair, and one you have to assemble yourself. Both can be satisfying and successful, but one is naturally appealing to a universal audience and the other, might require a little more persuasion.

Anonymous. (2011). Aiden Koch.

I think, though, as an education tool, both animation and comics are just as effective and important as each other. Both mediums can be used to educate viewers, with animations able to capture the imaginations of all ages, from animating cartoon characters teaching kids about algebra to using motion graphics in presentations to allow audiences to understand what’s happening, from a timeline of how a product’s sales have increased or a pie chart - allowing people to visually see what’s happening to stock, or sales, if they don’t understand any jargon the speaker is using. Many companies and businesses have created computer games and animated shorts that are designed to help children learn, to develop their maths knowledge or spelling ability in a fun and entertaining way, rather than simply copying out of a textbook.

An animated video by hit Youtube Channel Crash Course, an educational series of videos on a range of subjects including history, science and psychology that make learning fun through motion graphics and flat design aesthetic.

In quite a low tech way, comics can be used to do the same thing. Unlike film or even computer games, sequential art is a universal language. Within it lies endless possibilites for easy instructions, as designers can simply draw what needs to be done rather than write it. Not only does this break down any language barriers, it also allows companies to market on a global scale. If a product has instructions that are simply a set of clear drawings, they are able to sell it around the world. I believe that both comics and animation are an untapped medium for education - a universal language that is able to reach audiences of any demographic and background.

Finally, let’s compare animation to the medium of computer games, and discuss their ability to tell stories, educate audiences and entertain them. With examples like The Last of Us, we’ve seen computer games be able to rival films with their cinematic approach to storytelling and ability to resonate with viewers, with exciting sequences but also very touching, emotional moments.

The Last of Us. (2013).

This, however, is one of a few examples where a video game is able to tell a coherent story, with a cinematic gravitas deserving of the big screen. Often, story and education can be swapped for user entertainment and interaction. In comparison to something like film or animation, computer games are not quite as effective a visual storytelling vehicle. They swap storytelling for experience, as the players control what happens in the narrative. With this loss of control arises a loss in the ultimate meaning and message communicated by the game - players can ultimately do whatever they want to, and thus may miss the entire point of the narrative or skip over cut scenes that flesh out characters and progress the story. In my experience, players don’t come to a video game expecting a rich narrative and developed characters - most of the time, they just want to kill things in exciting ways. I get that, but I think in that statement lies the reason in which I’m not exploring interactive media as a medium: often times, we sacrifice any artistic vision of characters, designs and storytelling for a purely entertaining experience. The message the artists are trying to send, or narrative they are trying to weave can be lost admist the chaos - and the face-value entertainment players receive after having slayed the hundredth demon.

Computer games are the best option when we’re trying to create a fun, interactive experience for the audience - when all we want to do is entertain our viewers with little narrative intentions, or teach kids maths skills through fun games. Film is able to convey raw human emotion, and capture an actor’s nuanced performance in a way that animation cannot, and comics are able to tell brilliant stories in rich, impossible worlds at a pace unrivalled by any other medium.

Animation, though, is able to breathe life into larger than life characters and educate audiences through simulations, demonstrations and engaging character designs. It’s a medium that takes elements from all of the visual art forms I’ve already discussed and blends them into one unique medium, in which the only limitations being our imagination, creativity and skill.

The purpose of this blog post was to discuss animation as a visual art form, comparing it to other art forms such as comics and film, and explore what makes the craft so exciting and unique. It’s a way for me to delve into the context of my project a little bit more, and evidence a critical understanding of the medium I’m choosing to follow.

I want to continue this discussion on my blog, exploring the various uses of animation in society and look at a possible real world application for my own work. However, this discussion will take place later on in my project. Having written my mid project review, I’ve identified a series of actions to complete and my focus at this time in my FMP will remain on exploring a range of animation techniques and approaches - making exciting practical work that challenges myself as an artist.

In the next post, I’m going to be exploring Adobe Character Animator and producing some animations using the software.

Actions

Explore Adobe Character Animator, and produce some animations using the software

Continue this discussion of animation as a craft in a later blog post by exploring the uses of animation in society

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