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welcometowcwmondaynitro · 11 months

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WCW Monday Nitro 23/09/1996

We kick off with Tony telling the audience that “we’re off and running” with another action-packed episode of America’s number one wrestling program, WCW Monday Nitro!

I’m ready.

No indication of where we are tonight - small town alert. Let’s see. Google tells me that tonight we are in the Benjamin-Jefferson Civic Center in Birmingham, Alabama. WCW does not seem to like advertising when they are broadcasting from Civic Centers, for some reason.

So this week we’re back to Tony and Larry dressing like idiots. Tony looks like a butler/waiter at some higher-end establishment, whilst Larry is wearing something terrible underneath his jacket. Thankfully whatever that abomination is remains mostly hidden, but still, I can tell just by the small amount I can see that it’s a turgid mess.

The Butler reminds us that most of WCW’s top stars are in Japan, making it the perfect opportunity for the nWo to strike. Considering how much WCW have played on that you’d think they may be luring the nWo into a trap of some kind... but it’s WCW, so probably not.

Tony holds up some newspaper with an nWo advert inside.

Tony tells us this was in USA Today, apparently. WCW are so offended by the advert that they show it at the very opening of the show. Makes sense.

Meanwhile Critic’s Corner/Matt Roush also gets some free publicity. Is that Matt in the photo? Nice beard bro. Not sure about the hat.

Larry goes into some rant about the nWo being parasites, helpfully explaining what a parasite is, but half way through his speech seems to get lost, as his words begin to jumble together and make no sense. He ends by decreeing that Hogan and the Outsiders are “nothing but parasites”.

Tony takes a deep breath as this is happening, before Tony tells us that one man is here - Macho - along with “many other top stars of WCW”. Let’s see. Humorous, Glacier, Super Calo and the Dungeon of Doom don’t count. Ice Train however does count. The Train is awesome. Actually after last week I’ll count Calo too, as that guy is just flat-out insane and as a result earned my respect.

We get footage from Fall Brawl showing the match between Savage and the Giant, including Savage giving Giant an impressive scoop slam.

More footage of the nWo handing out leaflets. Is this really necessary? Also, I have to reiterate, what a fucking waste of paper. No wonder we barely have any rainforests left - the nWo used them all to make millions of these fucking flyers.

This chilly bro is cutting some kind of promo which I think is anti-nWo, but we can’t really hear what he’s saying.

We’re ready for our first match of the evening, and it’s involving the Dungeon of Doom. Tony, I told you these idiots do not count as “top stars”.

Good old Taskmaster Konan.

Konnan strides beside Sullivan speaking Spanglish whilst Sullivan pretends to understand a word of what it being said. It’s like if your grandad was accosted by a random Mexican gangbanger and tried to ‘act cool’ in order not to get capped.

The Dungeon’s opponents are already in the ring.

Well, that’s an... unusual pairing. I’m curious as to how these two were put together. Actually that’s a lie, I don’t really care.

“Taskmaster” Kevin Sullivan & Konnan (w/ Jimmy Hart) Vs. Brad Armstrong & Juventud Guerrera

Mike Tenay joins the commentary team for this match.

The match starts with Konnan tossing Juvi onto his head via a german suplex, truly suplex city before Brock made that a thing. I’ve just noticed that for some reason Big Bubba is at ringside as well. I hope Glacier runs down and karate kicks him in the face again.

Juvi regains control with a swift headscissors on Konnan. Juvi then flies out to dive onto K-Dogg.

Sullivan could have done something to stop this, but he just stands there and watches.

Weirdly Tony clarifies the Mexican Heavyweight title isn’t on the line. It’s a tag match, why would anyone have assumed it was?

Juvi gets dumped on his head with a nasty looking cradle DDT, as Mark Curtis does the crab people dance. Konnan goes to tag Sullivan, but Sullivan for some reason refuses, so Konnan goes back on the offence. Once again Konnan goes for a tag, and once again the Taskmaster says no thanks. He evidently doesn’t want to do any work tonight. Maybe he’s upset he didn’t get invited to Japan.

Juvi tags in American hero Brad Armstrong who immediately kicks Konnan in the gut.

Armstrong gains a little offence but Konnan dropkicks his knee which puts him down. Now Sullivan wants the tag. He tags in and does his stupid little finisher.

The ref counts the pin and for some reason Juvi doesn’t even bother to try and come in to break it up. Maybe he just thought there’s no way my partner is going to be pinned off such a shitty looking move, considering he’s only been in the ring for about a minute. Gamble did not pay off.

“Taskmaster” Kevin Sullivan and Konnan defeat Brad Armstrong and Juventud Guerrera via pinfall.

Post-match Konnan is annoyed by Sullivan’s reluctance to tag in earlier and shoves him. This leads to Big Bubba attacking Konnan from behind, at which point he and the Taskmaster put the boots to him.

I can only assume Sullivan was very offended by whatever Konnan was saying in Spanish during their entrance. There’s been literally no buildup to this betrayal at all otherwise. Konnan is easily the best member of the Dungeon of Doom from the perspective of being a decent wrestler (Meng aside obviously) so it seems odd to kick him out.

But hold on. Jimmy Hart tells the camera it’s an initiation, as Sullivan pulls Konnan to his feet.

Hold on. Aren’t initiations supposed to happen before you join a group, not weeks/months afterwards? The Dungeon just does everything backwards. What a bunch of idiots. Konnan yells that he’s Dungeon of Doom and everybody is happy. Tenay says this is how Konnan grew up and it’s a gang initiation. OK, firstly, Dungeon of Doom - shittiest gang ever. With that said I would have loved to have seen them in something like The Shield (if you haven’t seen it, watch it). Vic Mackey smacking Jimmy Hart around and cracking him across the skull with his megaphone would have been magnificent. Secondly, again, initiations happen before somebody joins, not some time afterward. Well anyway, Sullivan said in a later interview that Konnan was “forced” into the Dungeon and “didn’t fit in”. No shit, he actually had charisma and talent.

Tony tells us that Chris Jericho and Mike Enos are coming up. Wow, more “top stars”. Keep in mind this isn’t even Jericho of late 1997 or 1998, but rather bland pointless babyface Jericho of 1996.

We pan the crowd and then see footage of the nWo in their limo from last week. Again, what’s the point? This is boring and just filling time.

Mike is backstage with Macho, and informs him that he’s been publicky targeted by the nWo.

Savage asks “Am I a marked man?” then talks in such a low voice I genuinely can’t hear what he’s saying. Savage yells that even if Hogan cheap shots him “every night and every day” before Halloween Havoc it isn’t going to change anything. Savage calls himself the last hope of WCW. Desperate times. Macho notes that the majority of WCW are booked in Japan, and claims he was too, but he took himself out to stay in the US. Really? Not sure I buy that. I think Macho is just trying to make himself feel better. Kind of like a kid who didn’t get invited to a party, then tells his friend “no, I totally was invited, I just wanted to stay at home and play on my Nintendo”. Sure. Makes sense to stay in the States as the sole target for the nWo. Macho starts talking about multiple lifetimes again, showcasing his Buddhist philosophies once again, and then says “the only thing we have in common is that about 100,000 lifetimes from now we might be the same goldfish swimming in the same water.”

Tenay is just like.... what? Savage straight up admits he’s making no sense, and concludes by saying he’s taking responsibility to wipe Hogan out.

We’re back to the arena after that craziness, and out comes Mike “Ready” Enos.

Haven’t seen “Rough” recently - wonder if he’s still around? Enos is still wearing the “rough and Ready” vest, regardless.

Larry says that Savage is “confused”. That’s an understatement.

Jericho comes out, to what Tony calls “rousing applause”, which is more apt to describing the end of a theatre show or something.

Mike Enos Vs. Chris Jericho

Enos wants to shake Jericho’s hand. Don’t do it, don’t do it...

Idiot.

Match goes back and forth, but ends in a weird way. Enos attempts a powerslam...

But Jericho kind of reverses it into a weak looking takedown...

But apparently that’s enough for the win. 1, 2, 3, Jericho wins. Not sure I’ve ever seen a powerslam reversal before, but based on how shitty this looked that’s probably for the best.

Chris Jericho defeats Mike Enos via pinfall.

Goldberg’s music hits.

But he’s still utilising his previous gimmick as a kung fu master named Pat Tanaka. Shaving his head made a world of difference.

The lights go out, a blue hue descends upon the arena, so that can only mean...

Sub Shredder.

Tony talks about Glacier’s bullshit backstory as if it actually happened. Both Tony and Larry claim it is “literally” snowing in here, which is a blatant lie. Glacier may be a ninja or whatever, but he can’t control the fucking weather. Larry also claims he’s a black belt. Maybe that’s true, but I don’t trust him.

Pat Tanaka Vs. Glacier

These two weirdos circle each other for a while, as the arena lighting remains a pale shade of blue.

An epic showdown. Tanaka attempts a karate chop, but Glacier takes him down with a palm strike. Tanaka then attempts a kick, but he evidently hasn’t played Mortal Kombat, as Glacier counters with Sub Zero’s classic leg sweep.

Tanaka decides to say fuck this martial arts bullshit, and instead just hits Glacier with a sitdown powerbomb. It has little effect, as Glacier gets to his feet and executes a spinning side kick.

Tanaka is down for the count, and this one is over. I am disappointed we didn’t see the Cryonic Kick here. I guess Glacier didn’t hit the correct button combination for his fatality. Oh well.

Glacier defeats Pat Tanaka via pinfall.

Glacier poses in the ring. Larry suggests the nWo are going to recruit Glacier. Just fucking lol at that. I’m sure Hogan and crew have been very impressed with Glacier beating The Gambler, Big Bubba and Pat Tanaka. Sign that man up before he slips away.

Back from the break and we get a shot of this dude.

Matt Ghaffari. Apparently a silver medalist at the 1996 Olympics. Didn’t win the gold medal with a broken freakin’ neck though, did he? Also, and I’m not trying to be a dick here, but it looks like somebody photoshopped his face to move the eyes and nose slightly higher than they should be. Just saying. Larry calls Ghaffari a “loser” who “couldn’t even win gold”. I’d like to see you try, Larry. Tony actually does call Larry out on this, asking him how many olympic medals he has. Larry claims he wasn’t allowed into the olympics because he was “too mean”. Yeah, OK. Tony laughs at this.

Ugh. Noooooo.

Larry says that Public Enemy - who are carrying a table to ringside, as usual - have “found a loophole” where if you bring a “foreign object” to ringside, but leave it outside the ring, you can use it outside the ring with no consequence. What shit is he chatting? If you bring a knife to ringside and then stab somebody with it you’re going to get disqualified whether you’re in the ring or not. Well, actually, you’re going to get a lot more than disqualified... but anyway, Larry is talking nonsense as usual.

Alright, the Heat. Now this is a bit better, but I really wish they weren’t accompanied by that dicksplash Col. Parker. Booker comes out yelling that the Heat “are going to hurt somebody”. if only it was that buttwipe behind you wearing the stupid hat.

Harlem Heat (w/Sister Sherri, Col. Parker) Vs. Public Enemy

As soon as the bell rings, Stevie Ray chucks Grunge out of the ring. He and Booker then double team Rocco, sending him into the corner and then levelling him with a double boot to the chops.

Their advantage doesn’t last for long, though as Grunge dives off the top rope and hits the Heat with a double clothesline.

Crazy start to the match. Is this a tornado tag? Everyone is in the ring and once and Patrick is just letting it go. Then again, this is WCW, where rules are known to be somewhat fluid.

Grunge is very pumped up after hitting the double clothesline. He jumps up and starts swivelling his hips like he’s got an invisible hula hoop. The crowd have zero reaction to this. Stevie Ray and Grunge do now get onto the apron, making this a proper tag team match.

After some back and forth, Booker attempts a side kick but somehow ends up straddling the ropes, after which Grunge proceeds to shake them, further increasing the pressure on Booker’s testicles.

Patrick gives Grunge a disapproving finger wag. Grunge ignores him.

The match really isn’t much to write home about. However, all of a sudden...

We move to split screen, so that we can see the nWo arriving. For some reason the Giant is also dressed like a waiter tonight. Did somebody rib Tony and Giant into thinking it was food server fancy dress tonight or something?

Larry suggests they lock the doors to keep them out. Sure, or just, you know, hire actual security to make sure the nWo don’t come in. I appreciate WCW isn’t exactly great when it comes to forward planning, but still. Tony says that if the doors were locked the nWo would just break in, and then says we’ve already seen them smash car windows. Have we? The only person I remember doing that was Sting, when he chucked a giant fucking boulder through the nWo’s limo window. Still can’t get over that.

Larry says of the nWo “they’re organised, we’ve got Randy Savage who is confused”. Harsh, but ultimately a fair statement. Tony calls the nWo “vandals”, which... yeah, sure, but so what?

Meanwhile back at the match, Booker attempts a Harlem Hangover but misses.

Next, Booker rolls Rocco into a small package.

Rocco then adjusts so that Booker’s shoulders are on the mat.

Let’s be clear - you can see from this image that it is literally impossible for Rocco’s shoulders to be on the mat. He is laying on his side. Booker meanwhile is on his back. Patrick counts the three, and for some reason both men run to the corners celebrating victory.

Also Harlem Heat’s music starts playing. Dafuq. You all saw that still image I posted - there’s no ambiguity there about who was pinning who.

Patrick, completely correctly, calls a Public Enemy win. The music changes from Harlem heat to Public Enemy. Why was Heat’s music playing in the first place? Anyway, Harlem Heat along with Sherri and Parker are furious, ganging up on Patrick.

Even though he has absolutely made the right call here.

Public Enemy are, incredibly, new tag team champs. God only knows why this decision was made. I do like the ECW sign being held up as Rocco holds the belts up. Well captured, albeit probably totally unintentional.

Grunge celebrates in front of this old woman, who looks at him like he’s a fucking dirtbag.

Bruh, what is this shirt. If you paid anything more than $0 for this you were ripped off.

Public Enemy def. Harlem Heat via Pinfall to win the Tag Team Titles.

We come back from a commercial break to... this.

When you buy Arn Anderson off wish.com.

Fireworks go off as we begin hour number two.

We also switch to Bischoff, Tenay and Heenan on commentary.

I really liked WCW’s entranceway. Very cool design.

That’s not so cool. At least Valentino isn’t with him this week. I like how Valentine’s entrance music is just a bunch of heavy guitar riffs. Doesn’t suit him at all. With that said, I’m not sure what would suit him. At this point in time probably just not wrestling.

The crowd pops big for everyone’s favourite lunatic, the Macho man. Gee, I wonder who’s going to win this one?

Greg “the hammer” Valentine Vs. “Macho Man” Randy Savage

Macho starts off strong with some punches in the corner, but the hammer manages to take Macho down with a back elbow. His butt is jiggling all over the place and it’s gross. No picture, I refuse.

The announcers talk about how everybody is in Japan, so Macho is on his own. Except, that isn’t true, is it? There are still plenty of WCW personnel around. Just because the big names aren’t here doesn’t mean Harlem Heat, Public Enemy, the Dungeon, Jericho, Pat Tanaka, Glacier... okay, actually never mind.

Valentine drops an elbow straight onto Macho’s dick and balls. Brutal. The crowd are like “ohhhh” and Mark Curtis is like...

Uh...

Anyway, Valentine decides now he’s going to put his face down there too.

This is just getting disturbing now.

So, Bischoff informs us that Super Calo dislocated his elbow earlier and is going to the hospital. Wait, what? Super Calo? What bullshit is this. Well I just checked and apparently Calo and Rey Mysterio had a dark match before the show went on the air for the cruiserweight title.

Alright, to quote Lex Luger, I’m pissed now. You showed fucking Glacier Vs. Pat Tanaka, Jericho Vs Mike Enos, The Dungeon Vs. Juvi and Brad Armstrong, but you left REY MYSTERIO AND SUPER FUCKING CALO OFF THE SHOW? YOU FUCKERS. I’m incensed. Especially as Calo apparently did something so crazy that he actually injured himself. Recalling his match against Konnan, I’m not surprised, but I can only imagine what he did to hurt himself. Dude bounced around like he was made of rubber or something. Regardless, I’ll never know, because WCW hate their fans. FUCK.

Anyway, Macho is on the guardrail, with Valentine chopping his chest...

And the fans behind him are just laughing. That’s not nice. Also, I must stress again, that dude’s shirt... what, the, fuck. Did he wake up and think “I want to look like ice cream sprinkles today?”

Bischoff says “ambulances have circled the building” in anticipation of the nWo seriously hurting someone. Could have, I don’t know, called the police instead? And I don’t mean the band. It seems a bit defeatist to have multiple ambulances on standby. Also...

For some reason Tony and Larry’s stupid little area is still set up. Wouldn’t it make sense to take that stuff away?

More fashion nightmares here - and I have to reiterate, I am no fashion guru, but I despair that people think it’s okay to exit their houses wearing stuff like this. Have some respect for yourself, broskis. The guy on the left looks like the loading screen for a Commodore 64.

To be honest, Savage has spent pretty much the entire match being schooled (very slowly) by Valentine. He basically has had enough, so he just picks up a chair and cracks Valentine over the head with it.

Lol.

Referee doesn’t call for the bell. OK? Savage gets up onto the top rope and slams the chair over Valentine’s head again.

NOW the ref calls for the bell. Hold on, does that mean Larry was right earlier? That if you use a weapon outside of the ring it’s fine, but do it inside the ring and it’s game over? The fuck, man. Why not just throw your opponent outside, smack him with a chair for a few seconds and then roll him back inside then? What bullshit. Especially when, technically, in WCW it’s a DQ if you throw your opponent over the top rope. Now, I know they rarely actually adhere to that rule, but still...

Throw somebody over the top rope = DQ

Smash somebody in the head with a chair outside of the ring = No problem

Yeah, sure. Whatever. I don’t even care anymore.

Savage grabs Mark Curtis and tosses him over the top rope. The nWo come out and begin attacking the Macho Man.

Just to be clear, though... the guy who just got himself disqualified by waffling his opponent over the head with a steel chair and who then assaulted the ref is the good guy here. Sure.

Valentine just gets out of the ring and leaves. Lmao. I mean, you can’t really blame him. Savage just smacked him across the head with a chair twice. No reason for Greg to help him out.

Macho gets hit with the Outsider’s Edge.

Such a cool move.

Liz appears, for some reason looking concerned. She then runs off into the backstage area. Pointless.

Why would she care, anyway? She’s spent the last however many months being Ric Flair’s FWB and laughing about spending the money Macho was forced to give her from the divorce. Now she’s worried about him?

You may think, well, it’ll be explained eventually. All will become clear.

No. It’s never explained. She just likes Savage again now.

Lmao. Seriously, what is the Giant wearing? Is he their car valet or something?

Savage takes a jackknife powerbomb. The crowd is now pelting the ring with garbage.

Giant grabs the mic to introduce “the man and the myth, the man to be with, the all-time greatest professional wrestler in the world. A man who made professional wrestling what it is today. A man who knows no limits. The financial backbone of the nWo. The largest arms in the world. The one, the only, Hollywoooooooooooood Hogaaaaaaaannnnn.”

OK. I thought DiBiase was the financial backbone of the nWo?

Here comes the Hollywood Hulkster.

The Giant struts and woos like Ric Flair, whilst Hogan hits a leg drop on Savage.

Tenay says WCW medical staff have sent a gurney to ringside for Macho. Lmao. Wow, nice. Good job. Why not send security instead?

Hogan delivers a second leg drop, then Nash starts whipping Savage with a Slim Jim. Not gonna lie, that made me chuckle.

Yo, that’s a sick shirt. What’s up with all the nWo/Terminator crossover shirts though? I mean, they’re cool, I just don’t get it.

Hogan says something about being blinded by the lights shining off “the Nacho Man’s bald head”. Glass houses, Hulk. Bischoff actually says “what does he see when he looks in the mirror?” - hah.

Hogan then spraypaints over Macho’s bald spot. It’s kind of funny that WCW are trying to sell this as a serious thing, but whipping Macho with a slim jim and spraypainting his bald spot is just hilarious af. Sorry Macho.

Hall and Nash leave the ring and head towards the announce booth. Smartly, Heenan legs it, as Bischoff stands up and repeats “wait a minute, wait a minute”.

Nash shoves Bischoff back into his seat and threatens to punch him.

Nash continues to violently threaten Bischoff, as Hall puts Easy E’s headset back on and tells him to do his job, and do it well. Good advice. Hall also puts a headset on.

The whole crew are here. Except for the Giant. I guess his shift break was over.

You can’t help but laugh at this. WCW had a week to prepare for this, the nWo made it clear what they were going to do, and still... this is the end result. No security, no police, no wrestlers acting as muscle. Nothing. They have ambulances circling the building though, so... yeah. If you need to get to the hospital you’re good. Seriously though, they had the bright idea of using jobbers for security literally only weeks ago, then totally abandoned the idea. Why? I get that it must have been crazy boring and the wrestlers aren’t actually paid to be security – but in kayfabe, why did they stop doing this?

The Giant joins the fun as Bischoff presses his head against the desk. Nash pulls him back up and wraps his arm around Bischoff’s shoulders. Hall then announces the newest member of the nWo - Vincent.

Otherwise known as Virgil. And yes, they called him Vincent to poke fun at Vincent Kennedy McMahon. However, I will give this a pass as Vince called him “Virgil” to make fun of Dusty Rhodes. Turnaround is fair play and all of that. The crowd chants “Virgil”, as Virgil/Vincent grabs Bischoff by the hair and yanks his head around. Looks painful.

Bischoff says “we gotta take a break”. The Giant says “why you wanna get broke?” and laughs. Doesn’t even make sense. Don’t quit your day job, bro.

Time for an nWo announcement. It’s just a brief advert for the t-shirt with Hall, Nash and the Giant.

Hall welcomes us back to “the first ever nWo Monday Nitro”. The actual first nWo nitro will come later, and it won’t be good.

For some reason Hall and Nash are just chatting shit about taking over the NBA, the NFL and Nascar. Good luck. Those companies actually hire security and know who the police are.

Now an nWo car has come out.

I have no idea what is going on.

Bischoff announces we’ve got Jim Powers vs VK Wallstreet coming up. Does he want people to switch channels? Nash calls Powers “a fine young athlete” and Hall says of Wallstreet “what a businessman”. Yeah, all successful businessmen I know have dollar signs emblazoned on their jackets. That’s a sign of class.

Turns out Giant is dressed up like a waiter because he’s going to be the ring announcer going forward. OK.

“The following contest is against Jim Powers and M. Wallstreet” - literally fucks up the first sentence. Bad start. Also, M Wallstreet? What happened to VK? Oh, btw, the VK was also meant to be a dig at Vince (VK = Vincent Kennedy) but now they’ve dropped it for M... which might as well stand for Mickey Mouse. Maybe they felt they could only have one character as a rib on Vinnie Mac.

Out comes the king of the jobbers, and Teddy Long, who Nash refers to as “peanut head”. Nash also comments that Long is “putting on the poundage”. I mean, he’s not wrong. Nash and Hall also basically make jokes about Jim Powers being on steroids. Not exactly been helping him so far if he is.

M. Wallstreet arrives, looking like a million yen. That’s about £6000, and I’m being generous.

Jim “Jobber” Powers (w/Peanut Head) Vs. M. Wallstreet

Seriously though, what did any of us do to deserve this match?

Hall and Nash say “they’re going to get a closer look at this one”, which doesn’t bode well.

Wallstreet meanwhile is looking rough. I guess his stocks are down or something. Bro needs a really, really long nap.

Most of the nWo guys leave the announce desk, but DiBiase and Vincent remain with Bischoff. DiBiase calls Vincent “the CEO of security”. Has such a position ever existed anywhere?

Meanwhile, Hall and Nash have wandered down to the ring and started beating the shit out of Powers on the outside.

This is a new low for Lord Jobberlot. This week he gets beaten down before the match even begins. Sad. Who is that dude on the far left? He’s just standing there chilling whilst the Outsiders murk Jimbo. Seriously, could he look any more casual if he tried? It’s like he’s waiting in line for a soda or something.

There’s also a hot girl standing at ringside who for some reason seems very happy about this situation.

On the far right. Hard to tell from the picture but she isn’t part of the crowd, she’s standing in front of the guardrail beaming like it’s her wedding day or something. Can’t help but wonder if Jimbo did the dirty on this poor girl. It’s either that or she has a fetish for watching men and/or Jim Powers getting beaten up. Maybe she’s in charge of booking him.

It’s all too much for Randy Anderson.

“This ain’t dubya-cee-dubya, I’m having no part of this” he states as he removes his bowtie and exits the ring. The statement heard around the world.

Giant gets in the ring and announces some shit which amounts to himself being the new opponent for Powers. What happened to Wallstreet by the way? He’s just vanished into thin air. Oh well, no fucks were given. Nick Patrick meanwhile comes out to officiate, which I suppose puts an end to the ambiguity regarding his crooked referee status. Although in typical WCW fashion the whole thing was about as subtle as a sledgehammer being smashed into your ballsack.

Giant winds up for the chokeslam, but as he puts his hand around Powers’ neck…

El Jobber Fantastico literally just falls to the mat. He’s been so conditioned to job that he skips past the actual finish and just falls down to be pinned. Sad. It actually looked like one of those glitches on the old PS1 wrestling games, where the frames drop and you skip most of the finishing move. I hated it when that happened. Giant looks confused for a moment, then reaches down and grabs Jim’s neck again, hauling him up…

And slamming him down.

You may notice we’ve gone to splitscreen. Why? Because apparently WCW thinks it’s a good idea to show Hogan spraypainting the walls of the arena. No, I’m not kidding.

What a rebel. This is a guy in his forties, by the way. A guy who has two kids. Going around tagging walls like a street thug. How cool. Fucking boomer.

Hogan sings “hooray for Hollywooood” in a really weird voice that makes this scene even less cool.

Hogan starts chatting with the Nasty Boys – who cares? He gives them the key to his hotel suite and tells them to pop the champagne corks, saying he wants to talk business with them. Find better business partners. He also hands Knobbs the WCW Heavyweight title to take back to the hotel room. The sight of Knobbs with the strap makes me feel despondency in a way I can’t describe, so I’m not even going to show a screenshot of that.

Hogan gurns at the camera and continues to sing “hooray for Hollywood”. Words cannot do justice in describing how fucking irritating he sounds.

Bruh, just stop it already.

We go to a break, and come back to this.

Bischoff reflecting how I’m feeling, watching Hogan behave like the biggest fucking dork in existence. He’s wearing Macho Man’s hat now. He looks like a dicksplash.

Jim Duggan’s music starts playing. Oh lord, why is this just getting worse? Those poor fans. Just shitty match after shitty match. They aren’t even seeing the majority of the nWo stuff going on.

Oh, I guess the Powers Vs Wallstreet/Giant match ended? Or did it even begin? I don’t know.

Jim Powers’ match ended with him jobbing to the entire nWo.

Anyhow, let’s see what riveting television is about to occur with everyone’s favourite patriotic dunce making an appearance.

As Duggan comes out, the Giant announces “Jim Duggan versus Ron Studd” – bro, how are you this bad at ring announcing? You’re supposed to announce people as they enter, not both competitors at once.

Duggan comes out screaming “HOOOOO”. Terrifying.

Before Ron Studd enters, Hall repeats three times that “he’s a comer”. I don’t know what that means exactly, but it sounds worryingly sexual.

The Vanilla Gorilla waddles out, pointing at Duggan whilst muttering something incomprehensible. He looks a bit deranged.

Before Studd can get to the ring, Hogan walks in front of him and shakes his hand.

Studd appears utterly baffled as Hogan speaks, like the human language itself is beyond his ability to grasp.

Hogan and Nash then start beating down The Super Giant Ninja.

Small personal story, but I have a very vivid memory of watching this from when I was a kid. For some reason it’s a scene that stuck with me. Only one problem – I don’t exactly remember it happening this way. I have a very clear memory of Studd standing on the top of the entrance ramp, the camera behind him. Hall and Nash then attack Studd as he turns around. I am somewhat sure this is the only time our beloved Vanilla Gorilla got attacked by the nWo, however, so I guess we put it down to the Mandela effect. Or my brain having a shitty memory. Probably that one, actually. Hogan jabs Studd with a hilariously weak chair shot to the neck area. The nWo theme plays and Hall calls it “the soundtrack to your favourite adult movie”.

For what it’s worth, I’m not sure we can be too harsh on Hollywood here. Let’s not forget that Studd was the infamous Yetay, who dry-humped Hogan into oblivion at Halloween Havoc ’95. You could argue Mr Studd had this coming. A long overdue receipt from the Hulkster. Justified.

Syxx is announced as Hacksaw’s new opponent, and he’s standing on the turnbuckle preparing to have a battle of wits with the man built like an overweight fridge.

I mean, it’s a bit of an upgrade from Duggan Vs Studd… but no matter who the opponent, a match with Duggan has a ceiling. Shawn Michaels in his heyday might manage a two star match at best. He’d probably get a three star out of a match with Duggan’s 2x4. By that I mean his stick of wood. Uh, wait, I mean… oh fuck it, you know what I mean, get your minds out of the gutter.

“Hacksaw” Jim Duggan Vs Syxx

Hacksaw gets a “USA” chant going and tries to whack Syxx and then Patrick with his massive piece of wood. Unfortunately he misses both targets, who scramble to the outside.

As Duggan is distracted trying to whomp Patrick with his plank, Syxx sneaks up behind and attacks.

Patrick giving MJ a run for his money with those moves. SHAMONE.

Duggan dominates the early stages.

Check out this homemade nWo shirt in the crowd.

I mean, it’s a better effort than the guy who literally wrote “nWo” on a white shirt with marker pen, but still… the actual merch was out by now. Have some respect for yourself bro.

Syxx is saved by the Giant, who pulls Duggan out to ringside and gives him this awkward looking chokeslam on the ring mats.

Yeah, Duggan is so thicc that Giant actually has to wrap his other arm around Hacksaw’s torso. The “chokeslam” is almost as bad as the one Rick Steiner took some time back. Almost.

Giant rolls Duggan into the ring, and Syxx pins for the win. Not exactly what you’d call a showcase match for Syxx.

Syxx defeats “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan via pinfall.

Hogan, DiBiase and Vincent continue to bully Bischoff at the announce booth. DiBiase has said to Bischoff more than once “if you can’t beat them, join them”, or some variant. Foreshadowing? Maybe, but I don’t think I can bring myself to believe WCW were thinking that far ahead.

After a WCW Magazine advert which promises an interview with Glacier - get fucked - Sting’s entrance music hits.

Apparently the car is called “nWo Sting”. OK. Were they so desperate to get this name graphic up that they couldn’t wait five seconds for the wrestler to come out of the entranceway?

New World Order’s “we have Sting at home” comes out slapping hands with the WCW faithful. Bischoff calls him a cheap knock off, etc. I’m surprised he even recognises that this is an imposter. I was expecting that Bischoff would start crying about Sting defecting again.”Only a sucker would fall for it, and yes, WCW fell for it”, says Bischoff. I mean – where’s the lie? – but way to bury yourself and everyone else in WCW. “Never again”. Yeah, we’ll see about that chief.

The bell rings and nWo Sting lets out a lame “wooooo”.

There’s some big bald guy in the ring who, from behind, looks like a slightly slimmer Otis. He didn’t get an introduction and I don’t know who he is. To the internet…

Bo LeDeau. Bo LeDeau. Who the fuck is Bo LeDeau?

nWo Sting Vs. Bo LeDeau

Bo gets beaten in around a minute. Thanks for coming. I don’t think we ever see him again in WCW or anywhere else. On the basis of this match I guess that’s for the best. The crowd chant “we want Sting”. Well, instead you got fucking Bo.

nWo Sting defeats Bo LeDouche via submission.

Another pathetic match on what has been a largely pathetic night for actual wrestling. We got this fucking nonsense and missed out on Rey Mysterio Jr Vs Super Calo, in a match where Calo went so crazy he actually injured himself. Life fucking sucks.

DANGER, HIGH VOLTAGE, says the arena speakers as Kaos and Rage come out, flailing around like they’ve just dropped a ton of speed, as always.

Kaos yells at the camera that High Voltage are “high on life”. On life. Yeah, sure.

Their opponents…

You have got to be shitting me. This is the main event of the show for fuck’s sake. THE MAIN EVENT IS HIGH VOLTAGE VERSUS THE AMAZING FRENCH FUCKING CANADIANS. How was WWE losing the ratings war to this? Seriously, how? What the fuck did they have on their show that was so bad that this bullshit was the better option?

High Voltage Vs The Amazing French Canadians

I’m begging for the nWo guys to come down and hand out another beating. Please.

Bald spot asks for everyone to stand up and sing the Canadian national anthem.

Yes, thank god. Here come the lads to save us from this fucking atrocity. “Those are our boys” says Hollywood on commentary. Agreed. No wonder the nWo became babyfaces if they were breaking up shit matches like this. They were doing us all a favour.

Sadly the Amazing French Canadians do not take a beating – instead they just leave, and Hall and Nash take their places. That’s fine too, I guess.

High Voltage Vs The Outsiders

Total domination from start to finish by the Outsiders. It ends with Kaos taking a powerbomb.

Embarrassing effort from Rage and Kaos. Low Voltage.

The Outsiders defeat High Voltage via pinfall.

We go back to the announce desk, where the boys are just chatting shit as Bischoff looks on in despair.

They replay the Macho Man getting destroyed whilst Hogan calls him “bald spot”. Stealing my lines.

The show ends with Hogan plugging his next movie, The Three Ninjas, which I wouldn’t advise going out of your way to see. It does lead to something pretty hilarious in WCW’s future, but we’ll get there.

The shows ends with DiBiase laughing maniacally, Vincent bullying Bischoff and Hogan flexing his muscles. Magical.

Look, I know the nWo invasion was new and exciting at the time, but man… I feel sorry for this crowd. What a show to sit through. At least they were given a glimmer of hope with Rey Vs Calo before it all turned to shit. We didn’t even get to see that. Just to confirm, these were the matches tonight:

The Dungeon of Doom Vs Juventud Guerrera and Brad Armstrong Chris Jericho Vs Mike Enos Glacier Vs Pat Tanaka Public Enemy Vs Harlem Heat Greg Valentine Vs Randy Savage The Giant Vs Jim “Jobber” Powers Syxx Vs Jim Duggan nWo Sting Vs Bo LeFuckingDeau The Outsiders Vs High Voltage

When the best match in that list, by a fucking mile, was Chris Jericho Vs Mike Enos then you have problems. Fuck you WCW, and fuck me for even watching this.

#wcw #lolwcw #nwo #nwo4life #hogan #nash #Hall #glacier #wtfwcw #lowvoltage #nwosting #worstshowever

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annisthree · 1 year

Text

Chapter V: The spark

previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~6k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit language, canon typical violence, angst

Chapter summary: Marla and Cassian are ordered to go to Coruscant to meet with an anonymous informant that claims to have some valuable intel. It definitely doesn't look like a trap.

A/N:

Thank you for your patience. Life has been a bit funny recently, but I'm hoping to return to a weekly schedule soon. Just know that I deeply appreciate all the comments and kudos, and, in general, I appreciate all of you.

The warning has been in the tags since the very beginning, but just to reiterate: this has major spoilers to Andor.

Cross-posted on AO3 (same username).

The journey to Coruscant felt much longer than it really was.

Throughout the flight, Marla couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in her gut as soon as they left Yavin IV. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they were walking into the rancor's den, right into the heart of the Empire, the exact opposite of where anyone with even a trace amount of survival instinct would go. Or perhaps it was the unspoken tension between her and Cassian, which seemed to have only grown since they came back from Ontasou.

As a result, she spent the entire flight in the cockpit, fingers tracing the control panel absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the never-ending stretch of stars outside. Cassian, on the other hand, retreated to the cargo bay, where he sat trying to finish reprogramming his new toy.

Marla couldn't help but wonder if the droid was supposed to take over the role of Cassian's best friend, now that she had clearly no longer fit the description.

Stars. They had definitely been spending too much together; she was beginning to imitate his signature broodiness.

The entrance to the cantina where they were supposed to meet the informant was tucked away in a dimly lit alleyway, and the only indication of its presence was the faint sound of music and laughter that spilt out onto the street. A neon sign above the door flickered in a hypnotic rhythm, casting an eerie multicoloured glow on the pavement.

'The Underbar, huh? Cause we're... underground? How smart. And how inviting.'

Cassian just shrugged, his eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. 'It's the only place where you can safely have these kinds of conversations. The owner is a sympathiser and has some sort of connections that allowed this place to be off the Imperial radar.'

'Connections?' Marla furrowed her brow, a reaction both to Cassian's words and to the foul smell that just hit her nostrils.

'Probably some dirt on someone important,' Cassian shrugged again and suddenly grabbed Marla's arm to stop her from bumping into a group of shady-looking Rodians that skittered past, their footsteps echoing on the grimy pavement.

'Seems like you've been here before.'

The edges of Cassian's lips quirked up ever so slightly. 'Once or twice.'

The door to the cantina was a thick slab of durasteel, dented and scratched from years of use. A few flickering surveillance cameras were mounted high above the entrance, scanning the area for any suspicious activity. Somehow, that didn't make Marla feel any safer.

As she continued to observe the building and the traffic around it, she felt Cassian's hand on her back, giving her a signal to move forward. Together, they crossed to the other side of the street and pushed the large door open.

Marla expected some sort of a check, maybe a search - she even had some credits at the ready, because even though the coat she had borrowed from Cassian was spacious enough to cover the blasters strapped to her thighs, she doubted even the most provisional search would miss that.

But it seemed she would get to keep her credits - clearly, no one cared what kind of people were entering the cantina.

It started to make more and more sense why Draven wanted her to watch Cassian's back in there.

'As soon as you're in, turn to the right and sit in one of the booths by the wall. Preferably the one in the corner, it will give you the best view. We're early, but I don't want to risk anyone seeing us walk in together,' he quietly instructed her as they walked through a dark corridor that ended with another set of doors. 'Any questions?'

Marla shook her head.

'Good. Go. I'll be right behind you.'

'Good luck,' she muttered, pushing her hands deep into her pockets and making sure the coat covered both her weapons.

If the exterior was far from being inviting, the interior was just... painful to experience. There was a thick layer of smoke and dust that hung in the air, making it difficult to see anything beyond a few metres. The walls were made of durasteel, with various marks and stains that showed the rough history of the establishment. And the smell... Maker, what was it?

No, probably better not to think about it.

As instructed, she chose the booth farthest to the right. Sitting down, she scanned the room and the people in it.

She counted twenty-three beings, including the band. Everyone looked suspicious, of course - but they were suspicious in a way that made them outside of her scope of interest. Sure, they were whispering something to one another, passing some small objects under the table - but that just meant they were too busy with their own illegal business to even notice Cassian and her.

'Welcome, miss. What can I get you today?'

Focused on scanning the room, she almost missed the tall waiter that appeared right next to her table. Not good. Cassian would have been disappointed with her lack of alertness.

'A beer, please.'

A shadow of annoyance ran through the waiter's face. 'Which one of the twenty different kinds of beer would you be interested in, miss?'

'The cheapest one?'

'Right. Of course. Coming right up.' She could have sworn she'd heard a quiet sigh of resignation as the waiter walked away. Or maybe it was the music. The band really had the most peculiar sound; it seemed they were fighting the instruments rather than playing them. Strangely, it only complemented the general atmosphere of the place.

Several minutes later, the waiter returned with her beer. She took a sip, and just as she began contemplating the terrible taste, the door to the cantina swung open, and Cassian walked in. With a certain level of relief, Marla saw that most people didn't seem to notice the newcomer - clearly, this was not one of the places where you could safely and openly pay attention to people.

Marla took another long sip of her beer and watched Cassian sit down at the bar and say something to the bartender. Moments later, he received a bottle of what she assumed was another one of the twenty types of beer they had in this place.

Clearly, he'd been here more than once or twice - there was warm familiarity behind the wide smile that the bartender was giving him as he started preparing another drink. Of course, that made sense; this wouldn't be the first time he was sent to meet with an informant. Still, Marla couldn't help but wonder what his usual visits here looked like - or, more precisely, if they involved any of the scantily-clad girls who were meandering slowly between the tables, clearly looking for their prey.

Not that it was any of her business, of course.

But still.

'The gentleman at the bar wanted to buy you a drink.'

She shifted her gaze onto the waiter and then back onto the bar, only to confirm there was exactly one gentleman sitting there at the moment. Cassian wasn't looking at her, instead carefully studying his own drink, but she could see a tiny smile forming on his lips as he took a long swig from his bottle.

'Oh. Erm. Thank you?' she said hesitantly, conscious of how hot the tips of her ears had turned. 'What is it?'

'This is our best Chandrilan whisky, the Hypernova Reserve,' the waiter recited. 'A rare and sought-after vintage, with a rich, smoky flavour and a smooth finish. It's distilled in the outer rim and aged for years in the finest Wroshyr barrels, giving it a unique taste that will satisfy even the most refined palate,' the waiter flashed a judgemental look at Marla and the bottle of cheap beer in front of her.

'Thank you,' she mumbled, praying for the man to leave her alone with her drinks.

Suddenly, the door opened with a swoosh, and a tall human male entered the cantina. He had rather pale skin and a neatly shaved head. He was probably around the same age as her or Cassian, maybe slightly older. He didn't seem armed, maybe apart from the knife she noticed flashing in his boot - but who here didn't have at least a knife? He would have been more suspicious if he had been entirely unarmed. Suspicious, or stupid - either wasn't an attribute of a good informant.

Because yes, by now she was sure - that was the man they were supposed to meet. Cassian must have sensed that too - he remained still and seemingly busy with his drink, but there was a muscle jumping in his tightly-clenched jaw that told her he was aware and ready to act.

Marla slowly placed her hands on her thighs, ready to reach for her blasters should the situation escalate - and then she waited, trying not to be too obvious about her intentions.

In the meantime, the man stopped maybe a couple of steps away from Cassian. It looked as if he was trying to decide something - he was squinting his eyes and drilling a hole in the back of Cassian's head. But he still didn't do anything that would qualify him as a potential danger. At least not yet.

Shit. Cassian would have instantly read the guy's intentions and known what to do. Meanwhile, here she was, her brain going back and forth between 'just shoot a hole through his head before he notices you' and 'fuck, but what if it really isn't a trap?' .

And then the man said something, quietly, too quietly for Marla to hear - but clearly not too quietly for Cassian, who turned with an almost inhuman speed, pushed the barrel of his gun directly into the man's stomach - and then froze.

They stayed like that for a moment: Marla pointing her blaster at the stranger, with her finger ready on the trigger; the man staring at Cassian, the tiniest smirk on his face; and finally Cassian, staring back, just as intently, but with a new, strange look on his face. Or, more precisely, a sequence of looks: he started out focused, then opened his eyes a little wider, then let out a surprised breath, and finally - lowered his gun.

And then he gave the man the strongest, most sincere hug she'd ever seen him give.

The door closed with a thud, and soon enough, Cassian heard footsteps. He decided not to turn around so as not to betray his uneasiness, instead choosing to focus on the sounds. Heavy boots, fast and determined pace, clearly approaching in the direction of the bar.

But then the footsteps stopped somewhere between one and two metres behind Cassian, according to his assessment. For a moment, the person just stayed there, and Cassian's hand twitched towards his blaster - and then he heard the last thing he had been expecting to hear.

'Keef Girgo, I'll be damned.'

Shit.

His instincts took over - as if on autopilot, he turned his whole body around on the bar stool, his hand reaching for his blaster before his brain even fully registered what was happening. It took no more than two seconds, but he had managed to mentally go through the list of people who would know this alias, as well as try to estimate what the price on his head might be. If for some reason he wouldn't be able to fight the man, maybe he could bribe him...?

But the two seconds had passed, and he was now facing the opponent. He immediately noted a couple of details: he didn't see any blasters pointed at him, at least not in the nearest vicinity. He also didn't register any white armour or navy uniforms, another good sign.

And then he looked up, right into the familiar dark eyes he'd seen so many times and never expected to see again.

'Melshi.'

Yes, that was definitely him. There was something new, something purposeful and determined in his eyes - but these were the same eyes Cassian had seen every day for months whenever they were lining up in their cells to start their shifts, the same eyes that had followed him each time he took his break to work on the water pipes, and the same eyes that had carefully studied his face when he lied and said Maarva was fine.

'I thought I recognised that scruffy head.'

'And you decided to give me a heart attack?' Cassian murmured, lowering his blaster. Melshi shrugged, a shadow of a smile running through his face. 'It's good to see you.'

And he meant it... but not entirely. Yes, it was good knowing Melshi had made it, had not been captured or killed somewhere between Niamos and Coruscant - but Cassian had hoped he would have holed up somewhere far away, far out of the Imperial reach. Not right under the Emperor's nose, in the seediest of bars, clearly about to get himself into some trouble.

But then again, it seemed like those four years had been surprisingly kind to Melshi. In fact, he looked somehow younger than when Cassian had last seen him. Less troubled, less lost. There was a sense of purpose about him that deeply resonated with Cassian's own deepest sentiments.

'Good to see you, too, friend.' Melshi replied, and he clearly meant it, too - as evidenced by the warm smile (the kind Cassian had never seen before on his face) and a subsequent rib-breaking hug.

'What had you been up to?' Cassian motioned towards the empty chair beside him. In the seconds it took Melshi to sit down, Cassian quickly shot his eyes towards Marla - a very tense, very visibly confrontational Marla, who had both her blasters out and a look on her face that said she was confused but still ready to shoot - and gave her the smallest of nods.

'Same as you, clearly,' Melshi motioned at the bartender and pointed at one of the bottles on the wall. 'Is your bodyguard going to join us?'

Cassian huffed out a small snort, 'That obvious, huh?'

'You're not. She is. She looks like she's about to give me a one-way ticket to meet the Maker.'

'I'm fairly sure she's considering it,' Cassian snorted, giving Marla another nod and a smile that - in his head - was meant to be reassuring. 'So, you're a spy now?'

'Hardly,' Melshi replied with a smirk. 'Remember what we talked about on Niamos? How we should find a way to expose what the Empire had been doing?'

'People have to know ,' Cassian repeated. 'Any luck with that?'

'Well, not really,' Melshi averted his gaze for a moment, focusing instead on the collection of colourful bottles displayed on the wall behind the bar. 'I tried for some time, you know? Joined a small group that was working on hacking the official Imperial holosites. We managed to reach some people, but it all went to hell eventually,' he paused for a moment, nursing his drink. 'As most things do in the end. Speaking up doesn't do much when everyone around is too afraid to listen.'

Cassian nodded quietly, studying Melshi's expression. There it was again, that same shadow he'd seen on his face so many times before.

'Ever wondered what those things were, the stuff we made on Narkina?' Melshi resumed after a slight pause.

Cassian shrugged, looking away. Of course he did. But wondering did little good, and he had other things to think about.

'I did,' Melshi continued. 'And the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. So, after the holonet operation blew up, I started sniffing. Carefully, at first, because you know - being a convict on the run and all that... But then I did some digging and, what do you know, I had died in a tragic flooding incident four years ago. So did you, by the way,' he smirked again.

'That's-- quite convenient, actually.'

'It really is, isn't it? Seems like the Empire wasn't too happy admitting a bunch of thugs and losers closed the whole place down. You gotta love the Imperial penchant for hiding the inconvenient truth.'

Cassian waited in silence as Melshi tipped back another swig of his beer.

It made sense. And it also explained why Cassian never saw his face plastered on the streets with the words wanted underneath. In their arrogance, the Empire gave him a clean slate.

'Anyway, once I discovered that not only weren't they looking for us but also, they actively tried to hide any proof of our existence... I figured it gave me a perfect opportunity to sniff around some more. And that's what I did - I came here and found a job as a nightshift guard in the Imperial Archives. Not gonna lie, I almost backed out at the last second - but my fake identity ended up being worth every credit I paid for it,' He gave a faint smile before resuming. 'Long story short, there's good news and bad news. Bad news is, I still have zero clue what we were doing there, what all these parts were for... Good news, though: I managed to dig out a log of shipments out of Narkina from the time we were there. They were all going to the same place. And now I know where.'

A chill ran down Cassian's spine. This was indeed good - even if the intel was four years old, it still gave them a starting point, and maybe it could lead to discovering something important. But then, Narkina was stored in the part of his brain he rarely accessed, tucked away together with memories of all the other ghosts from his past. He wasn't sure he was ready to revisit any of them.

But of course, logically, he knew he should. Anything that could get them closer to winning this kriffing war.

'This,' Melshi continued, sliding a small data stick towards Cassian, 'has the coordinates and all the other details I have managed to get. Which isn't much - but it's more than nothing.'

Cassian grabbed the data stick and tucked it into one of his pockets. They sat there silently for a while, each seemingly deep in thought.

'Why?' Cassian finally broke the silence, his eyes still absentmindedly skimming the room. 'Why not just move somewhere to the Outer Rim where they would never find you?'

It took a moment before Melshi replied - and, once again, Cassian heard the same weight in his voice he knew so well from before.

'Was that really ever an option?' he said quietly, staring at the bottle he was holding. 'Would you be able to forget all that and just... accept it?' Cassian remained silent, studying Melshi's expression. 'I have to do something, Keef. Even if it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. If I don't, then what was the point of even trying to escape? What was the point of making it to the shore when so many others didn't? Kino. Ulaf. Veemoss. I have a debt to pay. Otherwise, it was all for nothing.'

Kino. Ulaf. Veemoss. Nemik. Maarva. Clem. Kerri. Over the years, Cassian had learnt not to think about the ghosts that had paved his path to the Rebellion. He knew that it was no use dwelling on the losses, that he had to focus on the present if he didn't want this list to grow - but he also knew it would eventually grow, inevitably, and each time he would have to learn to forget again.

His eyes unconsciously darted towards Marla, and for a couple of seconds, he allowed himself to watch her slowly sip her whisky. Would he ever have to forget this, too?

Would he be able?

'There's one more thing, Keef,' Melshi's voice brought Cassian back from his thoughts. 'I want to join. I've done what I could on my own... but it just doesn't feel enough, you know?'

He did. It never felt enough.

'We're flying back tomorrow,' Cassian said slowly. There was no point trying to dissuade Melshi from joining; he could see it in his eyes. He knew that spark. He saw it so many times in his own eyes and in the eyes of all those who shared their curse. 'And it's Cassian.'

Melshi's solemn expression lightened up momentarily as he gave Cassian a quizzical look. 'Really? You're telling me of all the aliases in the Galaxy you willingly chose Keef Girgo? Maker, and here I was wondering how much your parents must have hated you...'

'Mention this to anyone, and I'll make sure they put you on kitchen duty for the rest of your days,' Cassian grinned softly, finishing his drink in one long swig.

'Keef Girgo,' Melshi repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.

And it felt good to see him smile like this. Almost good enough for Cassian to allow himself to sit back, order a couple of more drinks, and to forget about why they were there and how they got there, and how many others didn't. Almost good enough to overlook the fact that what Melshi had just signed up for was effectively a death warrant.

Almost good enough to pretend they weren't all on a collision course towards unavoidable damnation.

One of the things Cassian appreciated the most about his friendship with Marla, as fucked up as it has been lately, was that she never tried to force anything out of him. She let him sulk in silence for as long as he wanted to, let him retreat into his dark hiding place and sit there for as long as he needed.

But she was always there when he did finally come out, waiting patiently, open to accept as little or as much explanation as he was ready to give. And, more and more often, knowing that made it just a tiny bit easier to return from even the darkest of places.

Stars, he really needed to make sure not to kriff this up.

They barely talked on their way to their lodgings. He needed time to figure out how he felt about what had happened; on the one hand, he was relieved to see Melshi and selfishly pleased to have him join them and fight together once again... but then, it was impossible to look at his face and not see all those other faces, the faces of the giants whose backs they were standing on.

And there was that one question, the one he tried to bury deep down and the one he was too afraid to ask Melshi: what about the others? He would have mentioned it if he had heard anything or met anyone else. And sure, the Galaxy was a huge place, but Cassian hadn't exactly been hiding. He'd have heard. Or Melshi would have heard, and he would have mentioned it. The silence confirmed what Cassian knew, but it stung nonetheless.

'We're here,' he rasped through the noise on the street, grabbing Marla by the sleeve of her (his) coat. Leading her carefully, he directed her toward the massive, weathered door marked by scorching burns and warning signs declaring the site as unsafe and scheduled for demolition.

He'd stayed there several times before. The Rebellion had a couple of these safe houses scattered around the biggest Imperial cities. The access codes were widely available, so if anyone ever got stranded in a city where counting on someone's hospitality would mean a death sentence for the host, they could still find a relatively safe place to hide and have some shut-eye.

'Cute,' she commented, looking at the sign. 'Can't wait to see the inside.'

'It's... well, it's better than you might expect based on the outside. But also worse than you were probably hoping for.'

'Is it worse than that junkyard on Bracca?'

Cassian let out a quiet snort. 'I don't think anything is.'

'Then we'll be fine,' she said with a lightness in her voice that made him believe, even if only for a short moment, that they indeed would be fine.

The hydraulic door opened with a swoosh, and he entered confidently. Half a step behind him, Marla followed suit, but not without looking around in the most obviously suspicious way she could.

'This really does the opposite of what you're trying to achieve,' he murmured as they walked up the dark staircase. 'No one does that unless they have something to hide.'

'But then I won't know if someone is following me,' she protested.

'You will, because people who blend in rarely get followed. Looking around like a skittish tooka doesn't make you blend in. It draws a target on your back.'

'Fine. Whatever,' Marla pouted, and he had to fight hard not to let out a sincere chuckle at her solemn expression.

They stopped in front of another set of doors - these ones without warning signs but with a terminal that looked definitely inactive. That is, until Cassian popped open a small panel at the bottom of the mechanism and connected the two wires that he knew would jumpstart the mechanism for long enough for him to enter the code.

'After you.'

Marla crossed the threshold hesitantly, stepping into the darkness of the flat. Cassian followed right behind, navigating the place based on his memory (and hoping no one had rearranged the furniture since he'd last stayed there). After a moment, he located the small lamps that were scattered throughout the flat and started turning them on one by one.

'I think I liked it more when it was pitch black,' Marla confessed with a raised eyebrow.

'I'm... sorry?' he shrugged, unsure how to react.

'Kidding. Look, there are actual beds. I didn't expect this much.'

'And there's a combination shower in the refresher. And the nanowave works, too. Usually.'

'Nice!' She threw herself at one of the beds with a surprising level of enthusiasm. 'You go first.'

'Go where?'

'Shower. You stink of smoke and spice. This place has way too little airflow for me to be able to ignore it.'

'Hey, you were there too. You stink exactly the same.'

'Go.' She pushed him into the refresher and closed the door behind him. 'Just don't use up all the hot water.'

The bathroom was small and utilitarian, with grey tiles covering the walls and floor. The shower stood in the corner of the room, a sleek and futuristic-looking device that emitted a soft blue light. Cassian stepped into the circular enclosure, and the door slid shut behind him with a hiss.

A pleasant warmth enveloped him as he turned on the water, and he closed his eyes, letting the soothing sensation wash over him. The sonic vibrations of the water slowly pulsated against his skin, washing off the distinct smell of the cantina and all the other scents he'd managed to pick up on their way here.

Shame no shower could dissolve the memories that were clinging to his brain just like the smoke and grime to his skin.

After a few minutes, Cassian stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel he found under the sink, trying hard not to think about how many other people had used it before him. He briefly considered getting dressed back in the clothes he'd had on before, but he changed his mind as soon as the smell of smoke attacked his nostrils again when he bent over to pick up his shirt.

The first thing he registered upon opening the bathroom door was the cold gust of air that violently attacked his damp skin, making him shiver. But then he picked up another set of sensations that made him forget about the cold.

'I think I'd be less surprised if I came out and saw a Wookiee playing a game of dejarik with a porg.'

Marla was standing by the counter of the tiny kitchenette, with different containers set out around her, a knife in her hand, and an aura of infinite frustration emanating across the room.

'You know that thing that you sometimes do when you're trying to be funny? Yeah, don't. You're really bad at it.' Cassian snorted in reply, which earned him a quick glimpse away from the unidentified piece of meat she was torturing with a dull knife - only to have her immediately avert her gaze with a look of poorly concealed panic that he found infinitely endearing. 'Maker, get dressed, will you?'

'Didn't know you cooked,' he threw, trying very hard to keep his tone neutral and not betray the amusement that flooded him at the sight of her suddenly nervous movements.

'I don't. But I'm hungry. And really fucking tired of the rations,' she barked grumpily. Cassian had to turn around pretending to look for his clothes to hide the grin forming on his face.

'Where did you get all this stuff?'

'Stole it,' she shrugged. 'From that shop on the other side of the street from the cantina. While you were taking your time saying goodbye to your buddy.'

'And how did you know there'd be a kitchen in here?'

'I read it in those boring-ass files you had sent me. Maker, can you stop interrogating me?'

'I'm just... surprised, that's all. Both with... this,' he gestured towards the kitchen, 'as well as the fact you've actually read the dossier. Are you sure you're all right?'

'Are you sure you want to be making fun of me while I'm holding a knife?' She turned around with a grimace that was probably supposed to look threatening. Which probably would have worked had she not caught him in the middle of buttoning up his shirt, which had her eyes briefly trailing down before she visibly remembered about being grumpy and defiant.

'Let me help you with that,' he offered, throwing the damp towel onto his bed and crossing the room to stand beside her.

He had to give it to her; she definitely was trying. The whole counter was littered with scraps, and there was a large pot on the stove with various vegetables and some mystery meat he was afraid to ask about. It looked... it looked like an honest attempt.

Without a word, he reached for the wooden spoon in Marla's hand, his fingers gently brushing against hers as he took over the stirring.

'Did you...' he started slowly, cautious to find the right words so as not to offend her, 'did you manage to find the spices?'

His only reply was the quiet bubbling coming from the pot.

It was funny, the way she could get so nervous about such little things. He'd seen her fighting against impossible odds, seen her manoeuvring the ship the way no sane person would ever even consider, and she'd never even blink an eye. And yet, there she was, defeated by a stew, and so self-conscious about it that Cassian wanted to drop the stupid spoon and just hug her until she forgot all about it.

Of course, he knew it would most likely earn him a bruise.

'It's okay,' he said, making sure to sound as neutral as possible. 'Second drawer from the top. I think I left some stuff last time I was here.'

'Here. I don't know...'

'It's okay,' he repeated before he could stop himself, and immediately felt like stabbing himself with that dull wooden spoon he was holding. Instead, he took the small sachet from her hands and added a good amount of its content to the pot. 'Okay, now it has to simmer for a while. You should have enough time for a shower.'

'Are you saying I stink?'

'I don't know. I couldn't tell over the delicious aroma of your cooking.'

'Are you being-- you know what, I don't care. Make sure not to burn it,' she shot him a warning look before walking away towards the refresher. He could swear he also heard her mumble the word 'asshole'.

The sound of his own quiet chuckle surprised him. He had expected to spend the evening writing the mission report and trying to suppress that growing feeling of grief that had been slowly creeping into his head since talking with Melshi.

Instead, he found himself stirring a pot of what would surely end up being the worst stew he'd ever eaten, grinning like an idiot. And it felt like the simplest and most natural thing in the world.

Looking back into the recent past, he was surprised to discover it wasn't too difficult to find memories of other moments similar to this one. Like when his arm was injured and hurt like hell, but all he could focus on was Marla's flustered smile as she helped him dress the wound. Or like when they were pinned down in that droid factory, and he had to stop himself from kissing her because she looked so beautiful with that passionate spark in her eye. Or like when he woke up to her staring at him with that confusingly elusive look on her face, only to watch her sneak out when she thought he was still asleep.

He looked at the closed refresher door and shook his head, a sudden shadow of sadness eclipsing his thoughts.

It felt so good, but deep down, he knew it wasn't right. This wasn't his purpose, he wasn't supposed to feel these things; he was supposed to be a spark and an unstoppable force for good, that was his prophecy, his gift and his undoing. It sounded so good coming from Maarva, but what that really meant was that he was doomed to steal, lie and kill, so that one day people like Marla could wake up and find that the darkness had finally been banished.

And maybe Marla could finally find peace in that new world; maybe she would be there to watch the last of shadows cower and crawl away; maybe one day she could even dust off the ashen remnants of his sacrifice and forget about the war, the way she deserved to.

But that wasn't very likely, was it? People like them had an expiry date.

The steady patter of water coming from the refresher stopped abruptly, and Cassian's eyes were once again drawn in that direction.

They were here, though. Alive, relatively well, and about to share a meal. And however doomed they were, whatever sacrifice they would have to make, they would at least always have this. And it wasn't half bad, Cassian decided.

It was much more than he had ever expected. And definitely more than he thought he deserved.

A/N:

For the LOTR fans that are familiar with the director's cut: you can imagine the rest of the evening went something like this. I started writing this scene, realised where it was going, and I just couldn't help myself. It had to be a stew. I'm sure they have stews in a galaxy far, far away.

PS I'm sorry for that fluff/angst rollercoaster at the end. Well, maybe I'm not. Or maybe just a little bit.

PPS I may or may not have a draft of a Melshi fic that talks about what happened between Narkina V and joining the Rebellion. But that's gonna take a while, my brain is incapable of focusing on more than one story at a time ;)

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #andor #andor fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #star wars #andor series #fanfic #rogue one

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googledocsdyke · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts/recommended texts for Cas analysis? I genuinely love the dean gender studies and I just wanna know what people might apply to Cas.

yes absolutely!! while dean studies is my first love i also deeply love cas analysis (casnalysis?) and wanna strive to do more of it. here’s some stuff off the top of my head:

1. gender, sexuality, heavenly embodiment

this is much more theological and less psychological than dean’s whole Deal because there’s so much fascinating stuff around how the angels in general experience express and conceptualise gender (@autisticandroids has a good post about angel gender & lily sunder has some regrets) but for cas in particular there’s this fascinating kind of collective fandom agreement (which i DO also agree with) that cas’ own gender kind of is gay man, that he actively chose gay manhood, but also that he’s kind of..... lacking the Insane Genderishness that dean exhibits at all times, even though he actively chose to engage in male gendering and became so comfortable housed Within Jimmy that he, as some post i saw the other day that i can’t find anymore said, “became his own body” when jimmy died.

like on the one hand there’s an almost-canonical transness to the whole process but it also never feels fully written-into because 1) the supernatural writers for all their insanity are sometimes very boring and *most* of the time only feel interested in narratively expressing angels As Their Vessels anyways and just like leaving convenient spaces around these questions (boldest thing they ever did was hot girl cas which i WISH i had the range to unpack) 2) there’s a vague inevitabilist shrug to the whole thing since they obviously weren’t gonna recast misha collins (though they HAVE tried to get rid of him) and 3) something amorphous about cas’ entire..... personhood? makes him Empty Of Gender as a contrast to dean’s Full Of Gender (i believe it was @deanwinchestergender who said this) and like is it just the juxtaposition to dean/jensen’s whole insane Deal? or something else?

like he actively chooses the terms of his own embodiment and yet narratively it feels like a shrug. and we’re all like “well obviously even though he’s a celestial being he was always a gay man” and like WHY. i love it idk idk much to think about! and yeah just in general the theological questions of possession and cas genuinely Becoming a man as he iterates himself consciously towards humanity it almost feels like. by doing the most boring things possible with his gender they made it interesting? idk if that makes sense.

2. discipline, free will, metanarratives

cas is like a tool (“i am not a hammer, as you say”) held in constant discipline and surveillance by the system that enmeshes him and it’s really, really fascinating to watch the way the angels hold each other to conformity. especially pre-god they kind of produce each other as foucauldian disciplinary subjects (which i posted about here) in perpetual visibility through angel radio, generating their own and each other’s conformity rather than being directly ruled through like a single centralised source of power. only the spectre of a god. and obviously cas’ whole thing is that he has ALWAYS disobeyed and the narrative affords him this psychological interiority never given to the foucauldian subject, an internal will and desire for freedom in a way that fits more with the liberal subject (super roughly and not with the same pro-capitalist implications but he has this internal drive for self-liberation.

and that’s also where the metanarrative comes in ofc! i think it was @dykecas who said that cas is a real person written by people who hate him, and there’s this crack in the narrative (mirroring the crack in his chassis) where cas gets in, over and over, despite all the order imposed by the show’s authorfathergod. like we’ve all seen the analysis about how it was Never supposed to be this way they DID try to fire misha collins in 2012 and yet this gay man literally cannot be stopped! i think actually his appearance in scoobynatural is a neat little distillation of this — he drops into this animated world originally with a singular purpose (Save Sam And Dean) the same way he dropped into lazarus rising with a single 3-episode arc (Save Dean). huge hammer behaviour. his “utility” diminishes within the narrative (he finds that he can’t fly in the scooby doo universe) and so he is no longer a tool/means to an end that salvation moves Through. and in the process (and huge creds to @lesbianyuugi for this) he does something ENTIRELY unrelated to his original cas-as-tool aim, and learns, like, the meaning of laughter from shaggy and scooby. WHICH brings me onto the third point

3. love, queer kinship, family-making

HE’S GAY AND HE’S A DAD! i feel like a lot of tumblr throws around the term “found family” in a very flat and tropey way (which is fine it’s cute and fun no matter what!) but like . GOD there’s so much specific stuff going on here. like the way that cas (unintentionally) obliterates the midwestern white christian nuclear family (made incarnate in the novaks) which like could be uniformly portrayed as an act of deep malice and villainy but instead grows to serve as a surrogate (if imperfect/complex, but DEEPLY loving) father figure for the gay daughter who has now escaped that nuclear family/seen it destroyed depending on how you read it? like he remasters the entire concept of fatherhood and it’s a very interesting (if DEEPLY) unintentional subversion of the homewrecking non-nuclear gay trope. cas is so good because his character arc doesn’t say “look, gay people can be normal and have perfect settled families just like you” it says “gay people DON’T have normal settled families actually and they are full of love anyways! or Because of the abnormalcy itself!)

to cite ziz lesbianyuugi again he DOES queer fatherhood in his parenting of jack particularly because it really is one of the ONLY parent-child relationships in the show that breaks the incessant cycle of abuse and control and cold indifference perpetuated by the authorfathergod (a cycle reified in 15x20 lol). like god’s treatment of cas and his siblings mirrors john’s treatment of sam and dean (particularly dean) mirrors victor’s treatment of krissy and her crew mirrors dean’s later treatment of jack. there is a CONSTANT reiteration of the story of authorfathergod (often a father tightly entwined in biological kinship) treating a child as a mechanism or a tool or a means to an end. and cas looks at ALL that he has suffered and all that he is ever known and chooses constantly to reject it with every piece of love he expresses for his child. and not to sound like the kind of academic people make fun of on twitter but there is an INHERENT queerness to that. gay love will pierce through [the veil of death/the thick silence of abuse/the mechanism of godly control/hegemonic american masculinity] and save the day

anyways here are some very haphazard recs on everything above for further reading:

angels in america (tony kushner)

histrionics of the pulpit: trans tonalities of religious enthusiasm

the public universal friend: religious enthusiasm in revolutionary america

discipline and punish (michel foucault)

friendship as a way of life (michel foucault)

the genesis of blame (recommended by @pietacastiel who has GREAT theology content in general

all about love (bell hooks)

the chapter “when hated characters talk back” in anti-fandom: dislike and hate in the digital age (is actually explicitly about cas)

also cannot recommend enough following the ppl i tagged above!! most of the unlinked stuff is available through http://libgen.li/ and bookshop is a good alternative to amazon if ur american and want physical copies

#thank you so much for this ask it was a delight to answer #spn #casnalysis #making a tag officially #gendernatural #long post

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

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Title: coward Pairing: F!Reader x Miya Atsumu Genre: major angst train ahead, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Synopsis: You were a coward and what do cowards do when they’re in an unfamiliar situation? They run, run until their legs can’t carry them. Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex ,unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion notes: for my first story, I had to write about my number one boy right now i- anyways minor spoilers but this is kind of an AU?? As far as I know, Atsumu, Aran, and Inunaki werent college buds and Atsumu and Inunaki didnt canonically go to college so yeah uwu. Ill be fixing up my masterlist when i have all this in order ngh... If you guys want to be tagged in future stories just fill up the tag list or if you want to be tagged in just this story, send me a message :>

next masterlist

The first time Miya Atsumu sees you is Spring on the first year of college.

It had been a bad day for him, girls kept crowding him and annoying him about mundane things, even going so far as interrupting his practice at the gym. If Aran hadn’t stopped him, he’d have yelled at them at that moment for interrupting him.

As he was on his way home, his eyes caught your lone figure standing there with a red bull and a cup of cold brew on each of your hands whilst a phone was clipped between your ear and shoulder, your brows were furrowed together as if you were having trouble explaining something.

You looked like every college student out there. Your hair was in a tight ponytail, your clothes seemed to be in a bit of a disheveled state, and you looked like you hadn’t slept in days. The next action you did surprised him, you had mixed your coffee with the red bull and just drank it straight from the cup.

The blonde was expecting a palpitation to happen any moment now but you remained there, unfazed by it all and still talking on the phone with your brows furrowed.

He didn’t even notice that he was openly staring at you until one of his teammates had approached him and asked him why he was just standing there, “Jus’ saw something weird.” He muttered, returning his gaze to where you stood but it seemed like you were gone then.

The first time that he actually talked to you was because he had accidentally did his service too hard and had hit you square on the stomach.

He feels his shoulder tense as you weakly let out that you were fine and that you just needed to talk to a member name Shion Inunaki for a project, you seemed to ignore him and what he did earlier, like you paid no mind to his presence.

Next thing he knows, he sees you around a lot on campus yet just like the first time he sees you and the first time he talks to you, you barely looked his way.

The days past quickly and it’s already the second half of the school year, he sees that your classmates in one of his minor classes and that you sit in front of him yet he feels like a fuckin’ scrub around you. You barely glance his way and when he tries to initiate a conversation, your words are curt and concise.

He asks his twin one night about it.

The only reply he got was, “You ain’t the center of the world, ‘sumu. People sometimes jus’ don’t give a shit about ya, stop thinking your some big shot.”

He curses his twin and thus begins a two minute long argument between them as usual but as he’s about to end the call in sheer frustration and annoyance, his twin says something that shuts him up immediately, “Don’t tell me you got a lil’ crush over a girl who gives zero fucks about ya.”

Silence.

“No fuckin’ way, Tsumu.” His twin choked on the other line, “Among all the people in that huge uni?- wheeze-You ended up liking one who barely knows your existence?’

“Shut up.”

“I gotta call Aran for that, fuckin’ masochist. This shit won’t end well.”

The blonde chunks his phone to the bed and groans out loud.

Surely it couldn’t be a crush, right?

Wrong.

Next thing he knows, it's already nearing the end of the second semester and he still craves for that attention from you. Aran feels like he’s crazy, saying how impossible it is to like someone who barely acknowledges his existence. Samu, on the other hand, reiterates that he probably just wanted you because you had this mysterious air and different attitude from the girls Atsumu met before. That and because he’s a masochist who loves hurting himself apparently.

Yet he shuts them down both because of the little opportunity created by his professor in the form of a project in pairs, you picked him much to his surprise, “...You're the only person I know here.” You simply replied.

When he hears those words, he cracks a lazy smirk, “We friends now or something?” he asked.

You clicked your tongue in reply, avoiding his gaze as you muttered, ‘I guess so.’

But after that little victory moment, you remained the same. He didn’t even get to see you outside class since you said that this project didn’t need meet-ups on the weekends or after class, the only thing he got was your number and even when he did try to strike a conversation through text, you gave very short responses.

“Stop simping over her, she probably got a boyfriend that’s why she ain’t lookin your way.” Osamu advised right after he confessed his worries.

Atsumu wishes he was wrong, he really does but he’s getting frustrated. So he attempts to heed Aran’s advice and tries to shake you off. He doesn’t seek you out in class anymore yet like always, you’re not even the least bit bothered by it. He feels queasy on how easy it is for you to be that way towards him but then again, it’s not like you cared about him in the first place.

Later that week, in the midst of his sulking, he’s at a frat party and he does his best to forget about you. There were a lot of beautiful women lining up for him and willing to give him all the attention he lacked from you yet when he’s making out with one of them and this close to getting laid in one of the quiet rooms upstairs, the door bursts open and there stands you, the girl he’s been trying to desperately ignore.

“O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” Your voice that used to be void of emotion was now shaky and you seemed to be forcing yourself to speak. You didn’t seem to recognize him at all since it was dark but he knew that voice and that figure anywhere.Before he could say anything else though, you're out and about, closing the door behind you.

Just like that, Atsumu shoves the girl from his lap and hurriedly puts back his shirt on. He doesn’t care if the stranger was angry or if he was in a disheveled state, he just runs and follows you out.

“Hey! Y/N!” He calls out at the quiet street, out of breath.

You slowly turned to him and he feels his heart stop at your unfamiliar appearance, your mascara was a mess from your crying and you had scratches on your knees, indicating that you must’ve fallen down somewhere tonight. The volleyball player clears his throat and slowly approaches you, “Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you.

You hesitantly take it and try to get rid of the mascara running down your face.

“Come on, Y/N.” He croons as he takes off his jacket to put it on you, ‘samu was right about one thing, he really couldn’t say no to you, “Let's take you home.”

It was that little moment that made Miya Atsumu’s stepping stone towards you.

Yet in the end, despite those endless times of him chasing you, you still chose to run further away from him instead.

tag list (closed)

@fortheloveofiwaizumi @svtbitch @ryaaaax @kiyoomile @lovedanii @juno-multifandom @gyubit17

#haikyu!! fanfics #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu scenarios #haikyu imagines #haikyu headcanons #haikyu scenarios #haikyu x reader #coward series

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limenysnocket · 3 years

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The Plan

Summary: It's your birthday (hooray!) and you still have to work (not so hooray). Nevertheless, you can still count on your friends to cheer you up, but not as much as your loveable boyfriend who insists you spend your birthday with him and a romantic dinner, rather than at a party your friends set up.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, Taika (yes, he gets his own warning), some content may be explicit-ish.

Request: @whatwememeintheshadows

A/N: So people are actually planning their fics nowadays???? Did I not get the memo or something??? These come straight from my head????

THIS IS SO LATE I'M SORRY. Happy (very) belated birthday.

Tags: @honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

○●□○●□○●□○●□○

Okay, so maybe work was less of a bitch today, you had to admit. People were nicer to you today, you got an extra thirty minutes added on to your lunch break just because, and, of course, you got a couple of dirty birthday cards and some cash, but that really shouldn’t matter, should it? What did matter, is that you would get to have some you-time, all by yourself, with your vibrator, a couple of movies, and some nice, low calorie ice cream (that tasted like total shit). At least... That’s what you thought would happen.

“You should totally come party with us! I’ve got the booze, Jess has the men, and we’ll make a whole night out of it! Alcohol, strippers, and dancing! How does that sound?” your friend, Enid, reiterated everything for you at least one thousand times today.

“If I wanted a stripper, I’d ask Taika to dye his hair, shave himself everywhere, and oil up a little. That’s the only sight I’d be happy to see, thank you,” you huff and smile. You appreciate the effort to get you out and about, possibly be a little frisky, but your heart just wasn’t in it, and that was much to Taika’s luck.

“Oh, come on. Taika can’t have that much of a grip on you! He has a lot of ‘female friends’, so what’s wrong with you having some ‘male friends’ hm?” Jess cooed to you, but you immediately whirled around, insulted that she would even suggest that you would do such a thing. And you were sure Taika had female friends, yes, but they were just friends. Nothing else. Although, his flirtatious behavior scared you sometimes, at parties. Some of the women would just swarm him, and you feared any one of them would catch his fancy more than you did.

“No. I don’t want strippers at whatever the hell you’re planning,” you stated again, firmly this time. Your two friends whined again, Jess lowering her head in defeat.

“Fine, but can we still bring booze? Invite a few more friends to party?” Enid asked, setting a hand on your shoulder and pleading to you with large eyes.

You chew at your cheek and think for quite some time. Your friends want to throw you a genuine party, and God knows how long it’s been since you’ve hung around a group of unfamiliar faces, especially since you started to date a Hollywood writer. Maybe it was just what you needed. Taika was supposed to be busy for the night, anyway.

You succumbed to the pressure, and nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “But if we get any noise complaints, your talking to the cops for me.”

“Hell yeah! You’re not going to regret this! Just you wait! Go home and clean your place up a little. I’ll be by in an hour or two to get things set up!” Enid clapped her hands together in mischief, and Jess suddenly looked more spry. You gave her a warning glance, and she only grinned back, before skipping away, chatting gayly with Enid at her side.

You can’t believe the shit you just got yourself into, and you still wouldn’t believe it, the moment Enid and Jess arrived with their arms full of cheap liquor, streamers, finger foods, and a bunch of colorful-looking lights that look like they just came from a Wal-Mart Christmas sale. As soon as you gave them the go-ahead, they started tearing shit open. Between setting up, your phone started to ping over and over again, as well as your friends’ phones. Apparently, just a few hours was enough time to notify everyone in LA about a party, who it was for, and where it was going to be at.

You just sat back and sipped on frozen margaritas (meant for the party, but it's your party so you didn't give two shits), until the party started and there was a heavy flow of people rushing into your home. Invited or uninvited.

When things started getting wild, that's when a pact was made. Enid and Jess would be cleaning up your house after this was over. You were already stepping over beer cans as it was.

You can't even say you were having fun there. You barely knew anyone. Most of the people there were just randoms looking for a good time, and unfortunately you saw some of them getting that good time in a dark corner. You made an excuse to run upstairs and lock all the doors of the bedrooms before anyone could think about getting there. That's what you thought, at least.

The party was getting to be too much, too quickly. In haste, you locked yourself into your bedroom, and took a step back. You could still hear the muffled voices and loud, posh laughter on the other side of the door. Those girls would pay. You rush over to your window, overlooking your backyard and see people divebombing into your pool, creating waves and getting people outside of the pool wet. People were leaving their trash everywhere, and many red, plastic cups floated in the (for now) clear waters. You didn't know how much more you could take. Maybe parties weren't your thing after all. Especially with strangers.

You sit back on your bed and you don't even bother looking out the window anymore. It was best to stay inside your room, if you didn't want to be molested or assaulted by some dumbass who thinks it's okay to anonymously grope women in crowded areas. Your face buries in your hands, griping to yourself how this would be over in a few hours. Right?

There's a subtle knock on your door, and you jump. It's in the regular, stiff-three order, so you are very hesitant about going and getting it. Then, there comes the "shave and a haircut" tune. Not a very good one, and kind of slurred, guessing by the way there was a loud thud at the very end, the person knocking was shoved against the door. Damn you and your pity.

You're quick to move, despite the strong feeling telling you not to. You just knew some poor soul was being smooshed out there. Fuck, you were nervous. This was screaming bad idea, but you were going to pull through anyway. The plan in your head seemed childish, but it should work fine if the person was desperate enough to get in. One quick swipe of the door, and you're golden! Surely...

You flick the doorknob lock and gulp, keeping a tight grip. On the count of three-- and after having to restart because another desperate knock jumbled up your thoughts-- you sent the door flying open. Sure enough, a heavy body came tumbling in with it, tripped, tried to balance, then ended up crash-landing cartoonishly into your bed, bonking their head a tad on the wooden post at the end of the frame. You hissed a little bit, then closed the door again. You rushed to their aid as the person looked up.

"I thought you liked private parties more than this," a soft, kiwi accent cooed at you, obviously through unbridled pain. This bewildered you even more.

Taika was sitting on the floor, legs extended out in front of him, making him look like a giant from your angle, and he was dressed in a blue tux, black dress shirt, and polished black shoes. Well, they seemed a little scuffed now.

"Shit, Taika-- what the fuck are you doing here?" you drop to your knees and cradle his aching head. He winced at the touch, but was too happy to see you again to deny it.

"Well, I came to take you out on a surprise birthday dinner. Maybe pick up a bottle of wine and go dancing with my favorite person, you, under moonbeams and twighlight," his head bobbled from side to side, which didn't help his animated character, "but it seems to me you have company... and a lot of it."

You sigh and brush an unkempt curl back into place while he cheekily grins at you. "This wasn't my idea," you murmur. "Friends set this up. They'll also be the ones to take it down. I didn't really want to spend my birthday with anyone this year. Makes me feel old."

"Well, you seriously should have known someone was about to stop you from taking another bite of that shitty ice cream in your freezer. They dished it out in shot glasses down there. Even a sober chick couldn't handle the taste," Taika snorted playfully and you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be taking this situation surprisingly well. It was weird. "But it was much to my misfortune that your 'friends' got to you before I could. Maybe I should have settled on a birthday lunch, but that didn't sound too appealing to me."

"Would have been much better than the chicken salad and dry-ass piece of cake I had for lunch today," you fired back. He sighed again and stood up with a groan. You followed with him.

"What now?" he mumbled, stroking the stache on his upper lip, then letting the tips of his fingers wander down to his smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

"Well, we're both stuck here, so I suppose we settle in for the night and wait it out." You plop yourself down on your bed again and just stare up at him. He doesn't move, however. His eyes were focused on the window, more specifically the lock on it, and he was nibbling at his bottom lip. He was thinking. Some people might call it strange to watch him think sometimes. He really was like a cartoon. With one tap of his foot, he spun around on his heel and faced you.

"New plan," he clapped his hands together. "Get dressed."

You were confused for the next fifteen minutes or so. He helped you pick out a deep blue dress that would somewhat match his and black heels. He was escorting you all over the room with his hand on your lower back. He even tried to do your makeup for you, but he was so inexperienced, you had to take over. The last time he had to do someone's makeup was on the set of the original, five-minute What We Do in the Shadows film.

While you finished your makeup, he was practically smooching your window. He was staring at it like a dog asking to go outside. It made you a bit nervous, seeing the cogwheels turn in his head. He took your hand and lead you to the window, unlocking it and pushing it up.

"Want to go first?" he said behind a proud smile. When he only received silence and a pure, "what the fuck," stare back to his face, he shrugged, and stepped out the window himself. Luckily, you knew fully well he wasn't about to fall flat on his face and die on the pavement below. You had a screened back porch, with a roof over it's head as well, since the seasons tend to get very hot and sticky and mosquitoes just love to lay visits. He stepped onto the roof, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. Once he had bounced down, he brushed himself off, then looked up at you, expectantly.

"Come on, then! Don't have all night!" he hollered and waved to you. "Need me to catch you?"

You gulped, not bothering to answer him. You gently scooted your lower half out the window and taking your heels into your hand. You didn't want to break an ankle on the landing. "Lord, give me strength," you muttered, squeezed your eyes shut, then took a leap of faith. You tried not to squeal as the rushing air flew by you like sticky wind, but before you knew it, your feet touched slanted ground. You felt like you were about to tumble, but strong hands met your waist and kept you up.

"Beautiful!" Taika beamed and kissed your flushed cheek.

"I hate you sometimes," you slapped his chest and made him laugh. He took your hand and started leading you to the other side of the porch roof, and came to the end, where your driveway supposedly was. Parked dead center was Enid's big, black SUV. Tall enough to just be a little hop away from the roof.

"One more, leap, dear?" Taika was on the move again, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could actually make the jump.

"Taika, no. That's Enid's car. She already spends so much on gas, think of how pissed she'll be if she has to remove dents from her roof!" you explain, nervous from the outcome of this little plan of yours.

"Sweetheart," Taika said airily, turning his full attention to you and taking your hand again. "If she was a good friend, she would have known a massive party like this would have pissed you off. Plus, I don't think just cleaning the house is going to get even with this God awful day. So, why not put a few dusty footprints on her car, hm?" Taika was back to grinning, and before you could say anymore, he had leapt away and landed on top of the car with a large thud. He motioned to you with a swipe of his hand. You were in way too deep with him to give up on him now.

You followed through, heels swinging in one hand, and he caught you again like the perfect, Maori prince charming he was.

Car hop, after car hop, he lead the way and made sure you were okay with every stop, until you reached a small enough car to hop down, scale the lawn and make it to his jeep.

"That was," you said, breathless. You couldn't find the right words, and Taika just chuckled at you.

"Exciting?" he filled in the blank space on his own, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you laugh, fanning your chest and brushing a single strand of hair back. "That's a good word for it."

"Well, excitement doesn't stop here," he opened your door into the jeep for you, bowing respectfully and playing everything up for you, like you were royalty. "I have everything set up for you to have a great night with yours truly. As long as everything goes according to the plan this time..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #what we do in the shadows #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, coworker!hyunjin, florist!jisung, punk!jisung (yeah boiiii), agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food, passive body shaming

Word count: 5.5k (y e e t we love self indulgence)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE

busybody noun

:an officious or inquisitive person.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There are a couple things that your mother is known for--or rather, a couple things that she has been deemed.

Mother, wife, friend, matriarch, socialite, unofficial event planner, gossip, show off, professional nagger, and, to certain people, bitch.

And yet, somehow your mother was intertwined with some of the most prominent circles within the city, and she knew everything about everyone’s business. Frankly, she often didn’t have anything better to to with her time. ” If she had any job at all, it would be calling you every weekend to give her opinions on your rather “less than auspicious” life choices.

To her, another one of your “less than auspicious” life choices had to do with the way that you had dressed yourself; however little sense this made.

Your mother sipped at her tea with dainty fingers, barely cracking with age due to her expensive hand creams.

“Quickly. Go get changed. We don’t have much more time and you’re dallying. It should fit you, just as long as you haven’t put on any more weight.” Her hawk-like gaze inspected your hips and thighs. “Hmm. I think you’ll be fine.”

Seungmin, where he sat on the couch with perfect posture tapped his feet up and down with discomfort.

I hate you for doing this to me, he glared at you with despair, hiding it behind the wide smile he performed for your mother.

“What? Do you not trust me to be alone with your friend here?”

Your best friend nervously chuckled out in that little puppy-like way that he would. “What? Ahh no, I’ll be fine, go on Y/n, I should be leaving soon anyway, I was just stopping by.”

Your mother’s eyes followed you up your staircase, watching for the very moment that you closed your bedroom door. The second you did, her snide voice hissed out loud whispers, undoubtedly drilling Seungmin about the usual questions: are you married, where do you live, what’s your profession, what does your family do etc.

The little metal zipper of the pencil skirt pinched your fingertips as you attacked it up your body. Once again, your mother had underestimated your clothing size. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes looking at the tags for the designer matching skirt and blazer ensemble. There was nothing in your mother’s life that didn’t denote the status that she “worked so hard for.”

In a way, you hated that you had done this to Seungmin as well. Initially you had thought that having some kind of male presence over when your mother arrived would deter her stabbing remarks about your singledom, but in fact, it has just made it worse. For once in your life, you just wanted to hold something over her. Now, you’d likely traumatized the best friend that you had.

You nearly slipped on the carpeted stairs in your nylon stockings on the way down, but held fast the the banister, looking a bit like some kind of sad, business-casual, plastic-looking prom queen.

Seungmin’s eyes widened seeing you in the toning skirt. Likely you knew that he must’ve been keeping his jokes to himself the very best that he could--you wouldn’t hear the end of it later.

“Wonderful. Let’s get going.” Your mother set down her teacup with a clink. “I’ve got some cosmetics in the car that you can use as well. We’ll be stopping off at the flower shop before we get to the venue. I’ve ordered an arrangement for the bride-to-be.”

“I feel like a China doll.” You muttered under your breath, catching a little laugh from your friend. Your eyes met as if to ask him if he was okay, which he rolled his eyes as his answer.

You put on the only pair of kitten heels that you owned: they were brown, banged up and the pleather was cracking a little at the edges. Of course, your mother let out an exasperated sigh upon seeing them.

“I’ll bring shoes next time.”

Seungmin politely opened the door for the both of you and the spring morning’s sun washed your face in it’s warmth. The morning was perfect: the exact kind of day that you would spend in your garden writing or reading on the single-person porch swing you had just installed. Dew still held to the Kelly green blades of grass and your cherry blossom tree bowed a little in the breeze.

“Well, it was nice meeting and speaking with you Seungmin--”

“--We’ve met before thou--”

“--You seem to be a strapping and organized young man. I do hope that you consider what we discussed.”

Seungmin appeared to flush a little, “I-I’ll think about it.”

You tugged at your friend’s shirt, pulling him in to whisper, “What the hell did she talk to you about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes fluttered around nervously. “She just kept going on about how she wanted me to--”

“--Oh, Y/n!”

From your mother’s surprised expression on the other side of the car, to the way that Seungmin stopped dead in his sentence, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Your body turned around in slow-motion, hoping that this must have been some kind of nightmare, and that you hadn’t woken up that morning yet and were cozily still tucked in bed.

If it would have been socially acceptable, you would have hidden behind that car until he walked away, but it was too late considering he already knew you were there.

Your mother let out some kind of ungodly squeal before rushing towards Minho and taking his hand in hers to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I take it that you know my daughter? And who might you be, such a handsome man as yourself???”

You really did contemplate hiding behind that car.

It was unfair how you had to run him into at a time when he looked like that. Your mother was nearly eating him with her eyes while Minho looked to you in his confusion.

Of course when your mother had to see him, he was fresh off of his morning run: white cotton sleeveless shirt, running joggers, a thick headband with sweat dripping down his body in rivets from his forehead to the curves of his toned arms.

Life was just too fucking unfair.

“Minho!” Internally, you crawled so far into yourself it was like you were barely there. You squeaked out the words coupled with a poorly-timed voice crack, “I didn’t plan on seeing YOu here!”

“Minho?!” Seungmin echoed your phrase, grabbing onto your arm with force.

“Uh, hello, nice to meet you I’m Lee Minho. And yes, I do know Y/n, I actually live a couple doors down--”

“--A neighbor! How wonderful! I know she doesn’t leave the house that much, but I’m so glad that the two of you have met. Do you live your family..? Or...your wife...?”

He smiled warmly, polite as always, “No Ma’am, I’m not married, I live with my mother.”

“Your mother? Well, that’s very honorable.”

You and your best friend locked eyes upon hearing the answer to the question that both of you had been silently wondering.

With a little eyebrow raised, he gave you a smirk, before braiding his hand through his locks strung with sweat. “I also live with my cats too.”

“Cats?” Your mother tried her best to hide the distaste in her mouth. “That’s...honorable as well. Taking care of animals is...hm, well, Y/n get in the car, time is ticking!!”

Your mother’s shrill voice was clipped by the sound of the car door closing behind her. You and your best friend choked in silent laughter together.

“Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?” You patted down your itchy grey blazer.

Seungmin nodded, “Do you want me to tell you the truth? Not your colors. But, you’ll just have to live with it.”

“I think that you look nice.” Minho’s compliment melted into your skin like honey. “But I agree, the colors don’t work the best. Sorry.”

“Oh. Thank you...” Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry! God, I’m-this is Seungmin, my-my friend Seungmin, sorry I didn’t introduce you both, my head is just--”

“--Nice to meet you. Finally.” Seungmin’s expression turned a bit more stoic, a stark contrast to his softer features.

“Nice to meet you as well.”

“Okayyyy, well, I’ll just...get going then. See you both...later.”

Seungmin slammed the door behind you, leaving you with your huffing mother in the car.

“All of these handsome men around you and you can’t lock down one? I can’t believe you...” She threw her makeup bag on your lap. “I’ll play matchmaker if you want me to, I don’t mind, but you know that I have a lot going on already--”

“--Haven’t you already started? Don’t pretend like you didn’t tell Seungmin something. Seungmin is my friend, mom.”

“I just don’t get you. Aren’t you ever a bit sad that you don’t get invited to things like this since you have no female friends...?”

“Honestly? I don’t really care--”

“--You should. Thank God that you have me.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The front windows to the floral shop winked in the morning sun and the gold lettering of the signage glistened with a similar glow. On the display, there were several dozens of different types of flowers all arranged into different glass vases, tied with bows or swaddled in burlap. The arrangements of roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, daises, sunflowers and other wildflowers appeared to be freshly cut, and beaded with water droplets.

“Here. Take my card. If any of them seem to be brown at all, tell them that you won’t pay until they fix it.”

You took the little plastic card from her red painted nails. “Will do.”

There was a little bell hung over the shop door, and it tinkled when you entered like fairy chimes. The entire place seemed a little magical: the kind of place that you would find yourself reiterating in your writings. On the marble tiled floors, flecks of dirt seemed to gather in the grout.

The golden brass counter stretched on for nearly the whole length of the shop, and held a display case which doubled as a cooler holding smaller things like corsages and boutonnières.

“Can I help you?”

The man approached you wiping the dirt off of his hands onto his canvas apron which was stained with smudges of green and brown. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos adorning his arms in beautiful patterns of black with muted colors of yellow, lavender and pink. They were nearly all floral in design and reminded you of the drawings from a botany book. His shaggy dark hair had a bit of a curl to it that tasseled over his eyes. His smile too was devastatingly charming, decorating it was a black hooped lip ring.

“Here to pick up an order?”

“Y-yes, for L/n.”

“I just finished that one up, lucky for you.” He palmed through the little stack of receipts near the register. “I’ll go get it real quick.”

It was criminal how fast you found your heart beating after hearing how strikingly soothing his voice had sounded. You also found your head spinning over how familiar he seemed, like someone you had met before, but couldn’t place where.

He had brought the sizeable arrangement over, and upon seeing it, you knew that your mother must’ve asked them to pull out all the works. Not only were flowers like this a bit of an unusual bridal shower gift, but it was just one more way for her to show off. The moment that the two of you would arrive with that, heads would turn, and that was exactly what she wanted. It was so large, you had to crane a little to see the florist behind it.

“That’ll be 360.”

Never had you been more thankful to pay for a gift with someone else’s money.

When you passed him the card, you noted the little scrapes up and down his hands and forearms, looking a bit like cat scratches.

“It’s the roses.” He chuckled. “This job is a lot more dangerous than you would think.”

“Oh.” A heat in your cheeks rose along with his observation of you.

“Beautiful day isn’t it?” He tapped at the register, then nodded to the sunlight streamlining in from the windows. There were little rainbows speckling the store from the prisms hung above the displays.

“I-it really is.”

Your eyes wandered to his nametag which looked like he had decorated with hand-drawn stars. Jisung. Once again, he caught your eyes, slyly rolling his tongue over that black hoop.

“It’s the kind of day that makes me wish I wasn’t cooped up in here and doing something else; going somewhere else. You seen the cherry blossoms yet?”

“I-I have one in my yard.”

“Oh really? It’s my favorite time of year because of them.”

His smile was a bit in the shape of a heart, and the way that his eyes smiled along with it was just as charming as the rest of him.

Blaze.

He was Blaze.

Quite literally, never in your life could you have said that you had felt your heart skip a beat, but, you imagined that there’s a first time for everything.

He scribbled down something down on the receipt, handing you both the card and the slip.

“Have a good one, ‘kay?”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would have slapped yourself square in the face, right then and there, to snap yourself out of your awe.

“Yo-you as well.”

It was a miracle you didn’t drop that expensive-ass floral arrangement getting out of there as fast as you did.

“What took you so long? People will start wondering where we are.”

Your mother said a couple more chastising remarks, but they faded away once you looked at the crinkled piece of paper on your hand:

I hope to see you again, Blossom.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“Y/n!!! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you. I’ve been decaying, simply drying out in this office all by myself.”

You swatted your melodramatic friend by the backside of his head, subsequently ruffling up his perfectly primped long, blond hair.

“Shut up. You’re surviving just fine without me.”

Hyunjin lowered his voice into a rather loud whisper, “Everyone here is just so boring.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting ‘Jin. It’s a publishing company, all we do is read here. You kind of did it to yourself too. Hell, you edit the children’s books!! You don’t have a thing to complain about.”

“Are you sure that you can’t take an office here? We could eat lunch together, make coffee together from that broken-ass coffee machine, and bitch about Mr. Yoon together. By the way, what are you doing here anyway besides not seeing me?”

“Picking up a couple manuscripts. I finished the ones from before.”

“You’re inhuman. I don’t know how you get through 300+ pages over a weekend.”

You shrugged, “It’s just what I like to do, that’s all. And, no, I will not be taking an office here, not when I have my classes too.”

“Aren’t you the perfect symbol of adulthood.” Hyunjin pulled up for you the creaky plastic office chair from the empty desk next to his.

“Tell that to my mother, I think she’d have a different oponion.”

“Screw your mother--and you can tell her that I said that too.” Your coworker fiddled with his white collar, pulling it from his neck. You knew how much he hated those and would have much rather preferred the silky low-cut ones which had become his trademark.

“If only it were that easy.”

“How’s Princess Bomi doing?”

“My cat or the story?”

“I was talking about the story, but sure, tell me about your cat too.”

Hyunjin was a sarcastic little shit, but that was why you loved him. Seungmin tended to be the same sometimes--you surmised that perhaps you made the same type of people gravitate towards you.

“It’s been pretty well received actually, and I think I’m just about done with the first book, there’s probably only a few chapters left. I just passed 8,000 reads.”

“Wow, that’s actually...really impressive. I mean it.”

When he wasn’t being a sarcastic little shit, Hyunjin was actually a genuine friend. He had been supportive of your writing ever since he forced the information out of you a few months ago after seeing a your chaotic notes mixed in with your manuscript ones. Of course, he had laughed at the prospect of you naming your main character after your cat, but he understood otherwise.

“You’ve been getting good feedback?”

“Mmhm! They really like Bomi as a character, that, and it seems like Blaze has some fans too...”

Upon saying the same, the boy from the flower shop sneakily crept back into your head along with that stupidly Blaze-like smile of his--or at least, the smile that you had always pictured Blaze to have.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to Y/n? Where did you go?”

“Huh? Oh sorry, I think I just got...lost in thought.”

“I said I think that you should really consider brining it to the company. What if they want to publish it? I think that it’s worth a shot. You said yourself that its successful online. What makes you think that people wouldn’t be interested in the print version?”

“I--Hyunjin, Princess Bomi is kind of a personal thing...”

“--Why do I even bother!” In his mock disgust, Hyunjin crossed his flabbergast arms against his chest. “I’m only trying to give you a helpful suggestion.”

Above the two of you, the florescent white lights bore down on you with a harsh luminescence.

“But--” You shyly picked at the hem of your blouse, “I could use your help with something else.”

“What?”

“What do you suggest that I wear...to meet someone’s mom?”

Hyunjin practically leapt out of his chair and three feet into the air.

“YOU’RE MEETING SOMEONE’S MOTHER?! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!”

“Get your ass back down in your seat.” You whipped your head around to see your coworkers concerned glances. “Yes, I am.”

“Thank God that you asked me. This is a serious matter.”

“I can’t exactly ask Seungmin...so...”

“Don’t you worry! I know exactly what you can do. So,” His voice turned sing-songy, “~What’s he like~ And how come you didn’t tell me about this sooner??”

“-Because I knew that you would have this exact same reaction.”

“I promise I’ll calm down, okay, go:”

“Well, he’s my neighbor, and I’ve only met him a few weeks ago, and he’s got cats, and he’s really sweet and not to mention hot as well but in like kind of a... cozy, librarian kind of way? Anyway, he wears cardigans--and you know that I’m a sucker for a good cardigan--and I’m convinced that the universe is trying to get me to destroy him but, that’s beside the point--”

“Slow down slow down! Literally all of the words you said just now don’t make sense together.”

You wheeled your chair closer to the man across from you, “And then he asked me to meet his cats and his mom or maybe just his cats or his mom, he was kinda unclear about that now that I think about it...”

“So he’s hot and has cats, hmm, sounds right up your alley.”

“I-I guess.”

“Are you sure he’s not, you know, trying to be neighborly?”

You punched Hyunjin’s arm so hard you jiggled your glasses on your face. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Sorry I brought it up! Ok, ok, I think I know what you should do. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you bag this sexy librarian man?”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“I sure as hell hope that you’re not trying to be neighborly.”

You smoothed down your freshly ironed blouse: a floral pattern with birds, something “light and springy” just as Hyunjin had recommended. The pleats in your trousers were in shape as well. He had suggested too that you tied your hair up, something about it being professional and “dateable.”

Bomi sauntered up to you while you inspected your outfit in the full-length mirror. Her gorgeous green eyes were squinted after her day-long nap, and she yawned while she brushed up against your leg.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Bomi?” You bent down to pat her head, which she promptly shied away from. “You think that this looks good? Mother-worthy?”

Bomi blinked.

“Thanks for your input Bo.”

Another yawn.

Your nightstand held your little jewelry tree, and from it you took a dainty silver necklace that hung just above the neckline of your blouse, as well as the thin tan wristwatch that you wore once in a blue moon.

The watch face read 5 o’clock exactly.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!.”

Bomi scrambled out of your way as you flew around the room trying to find a matching pair of socks. You stopped one more in front of the mirror. Your mother’s words always did find a way of seeping back into your skin like poison. Even if you had looked “nice” a nagging voice deep down echoed: “you’ve only ever been less than auspicious. Why don’t you ever change that?”

“Screw your mother.” Hyunjin had said.

If it only was that easy.

Your footsteps clomped down the stairs, and you threw on the same pair of kitten heels.

“Shit. The gift.” You slapped your forehead, cursing your horrid memory.

“And don’t forget to bring his mother something. A gift. Something small but thoughtful. Something that she can use. Mothers eat shit up like that.”

You frantically searched your entire home for something that resembled a gift. After a few moments of searching, you had resolved to go without it--you’d explain that it was in the mail, or misplaced, or anything but the fact that you didn’t have one. You grabbed your humorous amount of keychains on your keys, eyes catching that little box of complimentary chocolates from the bridal shower.

“Good enough.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

One more time, you checked your reflection in the glass door leading to Minho’s mother’s townhouse.

“This is fine, you can do this. Don’t screw this up, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

Minho opened the door, looking as confusingly adorable and downright gorgeous as you had grown to know him as. This time, he had ditched the cardigan for a sky blue sweater that still pooled at his palms. Seeing how casually he had dressed, you instantly felt overdressed, and made a mental reminder to cuss out Hyunjin when you got the chance later.

“Come in,” He gently ushered you to the spot where you switched on shoes for slippers.

“You-um, look really nice.” Minho pushed up his glasses up his nose bridge, “Really pretty.”

“Th-thank you, um, you too.”

He snickered, “No one has called me pretty before.”

“Shit, Sorry, that was weird, sorry, I’m just kinda...nervous.”

“No, not at all, I don’t mind. I appreciate the compliment.”

You stood at the doorway, awkward silence permeating the air. Suddenly, you remembered the chocolates in your hands.

“Oh, this is for you and your mother, I thought I might as well bring something over...”

Minho took it from you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t think too much of the packaging that just looked a little too wedding-y.

“Thank you for this.” He popped the box open excitedly, “What kind are they?”

It took a couple seconds, but you watched in horror as his expression turned from thrilled to deeply confused.

“What is it?” You craned your neck over to see.

“Are they...supposed to look like that?”

Inside of the little plastic compartments, each of the chocolates had melted into blobs pathetically and swirled together making one huge, brown, melted--and then solidified again--chocolate mess.

“Oh my god.” Your throat felt as tight as a knot in your embarrassment. “They’ve...”

Minho hurriedly closed the box. “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” He tried the best he could to suppress his laughter. “It’s still about the same.”

“No it’s not.” You whined out the words. “Don’t let your mother can’t see them, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What happened to them?”

Your horrid memory suddenly let you remember the fact that those chocolates had stayed in the car after the bridal shower when you had gone to visit your mother’s home.

“Nothing good, just-hide them--”

“Minho? Is that Y/n? Is she here?”

“--Hide it, quick!!!”

Minho shoved the box behind a large houseplant, still hiding his laughter caught in his throat.

“Ahhh Y/n! It’s so good to meet you at last! I’ve heard so much about you!”

You greeted Minho’s mother with a bow, throwing the box of chocolates a disdainful glare. She was a gentle looking woman who appeared to be a little older than your own, or, perhaps the same age. You wouldn’t be surprised if your mother had paid enough to procure the elixir of life; sounds like something she would have done.

“I’m so happy to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me in.”

“Minho!!” His mother nudged his arm, “You didn’t tell me how pretty she was.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat when you gave another little bow in thanks. “Your home is really lovely too.”

“Oh, it was all Minho’s idea, I’m just the one that did the cooking. I’m always happy to cook for a neighbor.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got a couple more things to prepare, Minho, you go show her the cats, I’m sure that she’d like that--I hear that you have a cat too?”

You nodded. “Are you sure that you don’t need any help?”

“No no, you both go on, I’ll handle this.”

By each passing moment, this all started to feel a bit more like a playdate than an official meeting of one’s mother. Here you were, a grown woman, and you had gone over to someone’s house to play with their cats. Maybe you weren’t as much of a grown woman as you thought you were.

“Over here.” Minho guided you to the living room: it was a modest one with furniture that looked to be very old, with beautiful traditional pictures of landscapes with assorted baby photos hanging on the walls. Everywhere, there was little pieces of evidence of the residence of cats: cat toys, scratching pads, a couple cat carriers and the cat tree nearest the window. At the top tier of the structure, there was a white and orange cat lazing with a foot slung over the side.

“Doongie?” You carefully approached the furball to pet it’s tiny paw.

“That one is Soonie, I have two cats that look a bit similar. Doongie is probably somewhere strange. You never know cats. Mine really like hopping on top of the china cabinet; it scares my mother half to death”

“I can imagine.”

Soonie remained unbothered, little cat body peacefully sleeping.

“Over here is Dori, the youngest one.”

Dori was a bit striped, with a grey body and a white belly. The smaller cat was rolled up into a perfect cinnamon roll on the loveseat. The cat stirred hearing it’s name, and keened into Minho’s touch when he scratched its head. You copied the touch, and Dori granted you the same permission.

“You cats are so sweet...wanna trade?”

“I...think that I’m good with the cat’s I’ve got. But that is a tempting offer.”

Making a rather loud appearance was Doongie, who ambled into the room with a series of loud yowls and meows, looking up to both you and Minho with striking yellow eyes.

“Doongie!” You crouched down to give the cat scratches under it’s chin, making it purr slightly. “Did you miss me? I hope that you’ve been staying out of trouble.”

Minho’s gentle brown eyes observed your interactions with his cats, simply letting you play around with them as you wished. Every once and a while, you could catch his eyes following you with a contented little grin on his face.

There was something so domestic and comforting about the whole scene. Inside the townhouse that felt well loved and with the smell of a homecooked meal in the air, there was something so peaceful about it all that was a little foreign to you.

“Minho! Please come help me with the bowls!”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Crickets chirped along the pathway and into the spring’s chilly nighttime air. Minho had offered to walk you home, even though you were just two houses down. Because of this, it seemed as if the two of you were walking in slow motion, taking one step after the other as slowly and carefully as you could. Absentmindedly, you both wanted just a little more time.

After spending the night being on your best behavior, you felt as if you could finally breathe. Granted, you had grandly spilled soup all over Minho’s mother, but this seemed to diffuse quickly once she had laughed raucously at the event. She was a sweet woman, with a kind soul, much like Minho. Her lightly wrinkled face shone like the sun and made you feel loved even without knowing her much.

In many ways, you wondered what it would be like having a mother as such. It was likely however, maybe you just weren’t supposed to know.

Minho cast his gaze up to the sprinkling of stars spread out over the vast sky: most of them invisible due to the closeness to the city.

“You know, I’m starting to really like living out here, in the suburbs I mean. Everything in the city was so fast and chaotic, it’s nice to sit back and let things be still for a while.”

“You don’t miss it?”

“Not as much as I did. The city...holds a lot of memories for me; some of them I’d rather forget. Being out here feels like a new start.”

The two of you stopped near the light coming from your porch. In the soft glow of yellow, coupled with the gentle navy blue tint of the night, Minho looked ethereal--perhaps even a little fairy-like.

You cursed out your writer brain for thinking of your little made up world at a time like this when you had this boy, real, in front of you.

“I had a nice time with you tonight.” Minho shoved his hands into his pants pockets with a cute little smirk. “I think my cats are a fan of you as well, so, that puts a good word in for you in my book.”

“Me too. Thank-thank you for inviting me.”

“Next time, we should do something different, I heard actually that there’s a meteor shower in a couple weeks.”

“Wait, next time?”

“Or, we could do something sooner if you’d like.”

“You want to do something else? With me?”

“Yes you, who else would I be talking about?” Minho capped his sentence with a little snicker.

“S-sorry, I just...don’t understand...why would you... I mean, I don’t do too much besides kinda hide in my house with my cat...there isn’t really a lot of things interesting about--”

Minho squatted down, sweeping something off of the sidewalk. It wasn’t until he had put it in your hair that you had realized he had taken one of the cherry blossoms from your tree to tuck it behind your ear. His head titled slightly as he admired the decoration, fingers lingering by the side of your cheek for a moment.

“I disagree.” He hushed, barely saying the words louder than a whisper. “Even though you you tent to get yourself into...situations--not that I mind anyway, you are special. Hell, and I haven’t even known you that long. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would’ve kissed him right then and there.

If only it were that easy.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Chapter 25

There Blaze was, standing, simple, cuts on his face and that little scar on his eyebrow twitching. The campfire illuminated his eyes with the flames, creating that brazen fire that he had gotten his name from.

Bomi knew him well. In fact, she thought she had known him better than most--a fact which she selfishly kept to herself. Blaze was everything she had known for the past year or so, and the time had interwoven their paths in ways that she had never expected. Before her was a person who knew her too, perhaps better than she knew herself.

Blaze’s callused hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing over her own battle scars.

“If you’ll not have me, please know Princess, you are the strongest warrior, bravest leader, and wisest friend that I have had the pleasure of knowing. I’ll stay by your side until I breathe my last breath.”

With a shaking hand, Bomi took Blaze’s hand resting on her cheek. She memorized the way that his skin felt on hers, making a million silent wishes that she knew would never come true.

“You and I, we both know that fate would have other plans for us...I’m sorry.”

Bomi turned from the warmth of the campfire, and the way that his eyes held hers.

She wished a million wishes, and he was nearly every one one of them.

128 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Also if people instinctively reaching for their “its just my interpretation” arguments as a rebuttal to that post about issue #416 could just not, I’d super appreciate it, thaaaaaanks.

See, the problem I have with that is like....no its not. Its really really not. If your fic or your meta is otherwise DIRECTLY referencing specific story beats of that specific ISSUE, like Dick not having talked to Bruce in over a year, or Dick not knowing Jason even existed until he saw it on the news, or Dick leaving Jason his phone number, or anything of the like.....it is not at all unreasonable for me to expect you to acknowledge the story beats of that very same issue that all of those things are written IN RESPONSE TO.

You can yell at me about how the firing is just a retcon til the cows come home, but y’know what? It was a retcon that was reiterated IN THAT VERY SAME ISSUE. In it, Dick reiterated what the firing looked like from his perspective, how he waited around for two weeks for Bruce to change his mind before packing up and leaving with opportunities for Bruce to say something every step of the way....THAT is the SPECIFIC sequence of events that Dick’s anger about all of this comes from.

So its extremely disingenuous to try and pair that anger with the pre-Crisis ‘better version’ of events where Dick gives up being Robin all on his own and becomes Nightwing while still on good terms with Bruce...because that version of events has its OWN corresponding aftermath that was written in direct response to THOSE character choices. Like the aftermath where right after becoming Nightwing, Dick turns around and offers Robin to Jason himself, as he of course is already well acquainted with Jason by then. See, that’s kinda part of why Dick and Bruce are on such better terms in that version of events. It has a lot to do with Bruce not adopting a whole other son without so much as a phone call to let Dick know his family had expanded.

Now you can mix and match to your heart’s content, that has NEVER been in question. Especially since as so often said, its a fandom past time to take a match to canon and watch it burn. You don’t have to adhere to aaaaaanything you don’t want to.

BUT.

If you want to talk about INTERPRETING the canon? That is subject to a different set of standards. Because you’re acknowledging that the source material exists as a point of RELEVANCE to you.....and the fact is....the source material is the SAME for everyone discussing it. Now, people can and do have different interpretations of that same material, this is obviously true. But ACTUAL. GENUINE. DISCUSSION of it.....requires that all parties at least discuss those interpretations in good faith, and make an honest attempt to address the material as it is.

And that is not what happens in this fandom. Because you damn well KNOW that for all your talk of the firing just being a retcon......its still the specific version of events the “Dick being mad about Bruce giving Robin to Jason” thing is directly meant to reference and BUILD off of. Retcon or not, it is indisputably the FOUNDATION upon which the other character choices of that very same issue are built atop of.

Because there is another version of events, yes. The pre-Crisis version where Dick gives up Robin. But as I said, that version DOES NOT HAVE Dick angry or resentful....because a key component of it is that all three of them, Bruce, Dick and Jason, are already a family in spirit. There’s a true succession of Robin from Dick passing it down to Jason.

And a lot of you guys know this too. Especially the ones most likely to reach for that “let us have our interpretation!” arguments. Because the Dick Grayson corner of fandom has posted about it a LOT. In fact, we kinda churn out a crap ton of content for this fandom. Headcanons, ficlets, informative posts, etc. And there’s a very curious phenomenon that exists.....

Literally anything I or certain other DG fans post that is inclusive of the whole family, or does not reference any specific event that’s infamous within fandom for pitting Dick against another Batfam member in a ‘who was right, discuss” kinda way.....that tends to circulate WIDELY in fandom. We’re talking upwards of a thousand notes, regularly.

In comparison.....the informative posts that are chock full of panels pointing out how canon actually goes in these specific instances.....tend to top out at a couple hundred max. Its pretty much just fellow DG stans who reblog them. Everyone else, despite them going through the same initial routes of circulation....are very good at pretending they don’t see them.

Because see, misinformation - and make no mistake, that is what we’re talking about here - RELIES on a lack of like.....actual information provided to the contrary to thrive.

For instance, if it were as common knowledge that in the pre-Crisis version of Dick becoming Nightwing, he makes Jason Robin himself, as it is say.....that the firing Dick as Robin story is ‘just a shitty retcon’......people might start to ask in greater numbers, like, okay, so why DON’T more people write Dick making Jason into Robin after giving it up himself? Why have Dick so bitter at Bruce and/or Jason, if in the only version where Dick gives up Robin, Dick passes it on himself? If you’re gonna go with the one, why not the other?

Because we all know damn well that’s not a difference in interpretation. That’s a conscious CHOICE to TRANSFORM the source material by stitching together two different sides of a cause and effect chasm. The events transpiring after Dick finds out Bruce made Jason Robin himself ARE NOT MEANT to reference the inciting event of Dick giving up Robin himself. You can make that happen, sure. But you have to MAKE it happen. There is no point in the comics where you can honestly, genuinely point to the comics and say this right here shows Dick being mad about this, where ‘this’ is Bruce giving Robin to Jason SPECIFICALLY after Dick gave Robin up, rather than being fired.

A choice has to be made there, for that to happen, if one has the ACTUAL information about how that really played out in the comics rather than just misinformation. And not everyone in fandom trusts everyone else to make the choices they would like them to make with the source material, do they?

After all, isn’t that the REAL root of all this?

See.....its no secret to any of us that nobody’s been all that happy with the actual comics aka source material in years. Meaning most of fandom, myself included, is here for meta and fics based on previously written comics, or our own adaptations of the material.

And fandom, being interactive, unlike canon.....is something that CAN be influenced by other fans.

So why don’t we all just stop fucking pretending that we’re not all trying to influence what the overarching fandom narratives are, shall we?

Oh, you can say this is just me projecting, but I’ve got plenty of instances of hypocrisy to point to that say otherwise. And THAT is the true source of my hostility in so many posts in this fandom.

Because its the very same people who loudly cry “let people have their headcanons” and “let people have their interpretations” and “stop trying to tell people there’s only one true version of canon to go off of” who NEVER. EVER. fail to show up on posts like that last one, the SECOND they start to circulate ‘too widely’ throughout fandom. There is ALWAYS someone waiting in the wings the minute a post like that starts to top a couple hundred notes, ready and raring to shoot it down with some kind of derailment or condescending reminders to everyone who might see it that ‘that’s just a bad retcon for people obsessed with misery porn’ or something like that.

And what exactly should we be calling that? When people show up every single time I make a post about the importance of Robin as a name to Dick, in order to make a big stink about how it being his mother’s name for him is just a retcon? Even though....did I say it wasn’t? Does it being a retcon mean it doesn’t exist? Am I not allowed MY interpretation of a story that very much does exist in canon, am I not allowed to reference other stories where that specific retcon is specifically linked to?

Or how about if I say, post a headcanon about Alfred getting snippy with Bruce about not reaching out to Dick after he leaves home, where within the headcanon itself I specifically reference a clear version of the story where Dick is fired and its eighteen months before he and Bruce speak again? Does this story not exist in canon? Am I not allowed to base stuff of it? It would seem not, given the way people jumped to derail that one by adding in additions about Dick being upset with Bruce about college, which is an entirely different continuity that in no way intersects with the specific events I reference, where they’re estranged for a clear reason that is directly raised within the headcanon itself. People even acknowledge “OP is entitled to any version of continuity they want” in that one, but are like....this one is wrong though, and true fans prefer the one that isn’t just misery porn meant to validate Dick’s teenage angst. With people all too happy to reblog that one while gleefully pointing out the tags that completely derail the post about a clear point in canon by making it entirely about another unrelated point in a different continuity in order to invalidate the initial headcanon or whatever.

Don’t even get me started on when we dare reference stories where Bruce is actually physically abusive to Dick, or when we link Dick’s actions in stories that acknowledge the emotional abuse or neglect of certain key moments in his life TO those inciting moments directly and say “hey its kinda shitty to act like Dick was just being a standoffish brat here when Dick’s attitude is actually directly based on the last time he and Bruce interacted being when Bruce told him to get out and leave his keys.” LOLOL nooooo, that’s not allowed to stand, because see, the ONLY possible reason we could have for even CONSIDERING those stories in character or in continuity, is because of the aforementioned addiction to misery porn or else because we’re just trying to smear Bruce to make our own fave look better.

Never mind that another popular refrain for a lot of the people I’m talking about here is “you don’t know what people are thinking or why they like the things that they like” so, y’know. It is a tad irritating to see that double standard applied, like I mean. Just speaking personally, I’m a survivor of childhood physical and sexual abuse with a lifetime’s worth of C-PTSD and permanent estrangement from my abusive family, so like....those stories where Dick is abused by a figure he never thought would hurt him and now has to reconcile that with still loving and admiring that very same person and still wanting to be family.....like, hey guess what, those themes are part of why his character resonates for me in particular and so they’re kiiiiiinda key for me to explore for a lot of reasons. And given that this fandom looooooves to talk about some people writing dark shit to cope, I find it veeeeeery curious that people are so willing to shut the fuck up and say nothing about incest, rape and pedophilia fics even if they don’t like them themselves......but will still come out of the woodwork to condescend about there being absolutely no valid reason for anyone to ever engage with content where Bruce is abusive even just in one singular instance.....nah. Its literally just cuz of the misery porn addiction.

But see.....the thing at the heart of all this is the simple fact that this hypocrisy doesn’t exist just for the sake of hypocrisy. It exists because we actually all DO know how much power and influence fans can have in an interactive environment like fandom.

After all, the entire reason that Dick Grayson fans are so often posting informative panel-filled posts about what ACTUALLY happens in canon stories that are DIRECTLY cited in many meta, fanfics and headcanons, just.....in a totally backwards way that just so happens to fail to mention that its not intended to be an accurate depiction of the canon its definitely mentioning its in reference to....

The entire reason for this is because of how thoroughly fandom has crafted a specific narrative for Dick Grayson’s character that is based PURELY on their own characterization wants and needs and has very little to do with the actual canon of the character.

Its not a coincidence that so many fans just so happen to genuinely, truly believe that Dick was a grade A asshole to Jason while he was Robin, and there’s a wealth of canon out there somewhere to back it up. No, this happened because of fanFIC narratives where this is the case, and these catching on, and being encouraged by the initial writers of this trope and its fans and so on and so forth until it became the overarching fandom narrative and not only didn’t require any canon basis to be so....it barely ALLOWED for any talk of the contrary. Dick Grayson stans had to yell and churn out posts like that last one for YEARS to make a DENT in this fanon conviction, and do NOT even approach me about it being an issue of tone and ‘if we’d only asked politely’ because lol. No. We did. You can find the clear shift in the tone of my posts from when I first re-entered the fandom years ago to when I just got frustrated with the willful avoidance of WHY so many fans like myself are so annoyed by certain fandom convictions......and even then, it was about the hypocrisy. It was about how loudly other people crow about letting them have their headcanons while literally shouting down ANY post we made about wanting space to just have our CANON-canon.

Pro-tip: that thing where if you just ignore someone long enough on a certain point, they’ll inevitably start to get frustrated and then you can point to their tone as being the problem and claim that was the issue all along? Yeah. Its not slick. This fandom didn’t invent it. Its always very transparent, and very obnoxious.

But the point is.....fandom absolutely has the ability to override canon narratives with their own version that’s then formative for new entrants to the fandom who never even BOTHER with the source material and just are here for the fic. And so its dishonest as FUCK for people to not only MAKE no distinction between what’s genuinely their interpretation of the canon and what’s their transformation of it, with INTENT......but to weaponize fandom’s aversion to content-criticism to shout down even ATTEMPTS to introduce discussion of the actual source material by claiming oh you’re just trying force your preferred narrative on everyone else. Aka that thing THEY’RE actually doing themselves by once attaining a fandom wide narrative they like, maintaining a stranglehold on it and doing their best to dissuade any narratives to the contrary staking a claim alongside that.

Because again, it all comes back to the fic. See, as a Dick Grayson fan, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I turn to fic for what I can’t get from canon...and its frustrating as hell to see writers that loudly talk of being BETTER than canon and “RIP to canon but my Batfam loves each other” in a lot of cases DELIBERATELY make Dick in particular look WORSE.....and then act like they have no idea what we’re talking about when we try and tell fans who take these narratives at face value that uh, they’re lacking some extremely relevant context and nuance. Or in some cases, outright facts.

And I will happily laugh loudly in the face of anyone who tries to claim that they don’t feel similarly about fics that characterize their own faves in ways they don’t like.

Yeah, try telling me that after years of some of you writing fics that specifically exclude all reference to the events of Nightwing #30 when talking about Dick’s death or Spyral.....while still including every in canon instance of people bagging on Dick for what he only did in canon because of Bruce’s abusive writing. There’s kinda a vested interest in keeping fandom relatively free of talk of Nightwing #30 then.....because weirdly, people who write about a DIFFERENT take that’s not hostile to Dick seem to end up putting the blame on Bruce for that situation. Bizarre, I know. People attributing blame to the character who was actually abusive in the canon and being cranky that the victim of said abuse is held up as the sacrificial lamb in everyone else’s fics? Whodathunkit.

(Also a point of irritation - it never had to be just one or the other. This is where the whole ‘maybe its YOU guys who were projecting all along when you said the only reason we could have for talking about Bruce’s abuse was an intent to smear the character’ bit is a thing. See, fun fact: if you were going to ignore an issue or two in order to completely flip the narrative of what really happened with Spyral and dominate the fandom landscape for a couple of years....it never had to be Nightwing #30 that was the ONLY issue you could leave out in order to not make Bruce look like an abusive asshat. Like, there was always another option right there in front of you. You could have instead chosen to also leave out Grayson #12, aka the one where Dick informs everyone else he’s alive.....then you could very easily just sliiiiiide in reference to Bruce and Dick quietly informing the whole family of his status and his mission while insisting on keeping it quiet for his safety. Voila. NOBODY has to be an asshole then, and the whole family gets to be in the know. But see, most people didn’t actually have a problem with someone being an asshole in that story. They just didn’t want it to be Bruce, and didn’t mind it being his actual victim.

Even though, lol, just another FYI.....abuse victims having things flipped on them so it looks like they’re the true problem and their abusers are completely innocent is a HUGE thing that happens a lot in real life, so FYI about that FYI.....anyone who does say, gravitate towards Dick Grayson specifically because of how he’s impacted or might be impacted by abuse from his father, like.....is proooooobably not going to have a super fun time with diehard commitment to making this particular fictional character the true mastermind of his family’s misery and abusive instead of the abused. Weird huh.)

And round and round it goes. Where it ends, nobody knows.....because it doesn’t. fucking. stop. The number of ways in which fandom has willfully flipped the narrative so that Dick is the aggressor instead of the aggrieved is just absolutely ridiculous. This guy has been punched by every member of his family except Duke and Alfred, and somehow he’s the one characterized as uncomfy to be around because of how volatile he is. This guy is the only one who has actually been KICKED OUT of the manor, and somehow that gets glossed over and considered out of character while he apparently definitely did very much do this exact specific thing to Tim, I hear.

And like broken records, people squawk ‘let us have our interpretations/headcanons/etc’ any time we try and make a stink about how no, actually, that’s NOT HOW IT WENT....and at the EXACT SAME TIME....most of these exact same people show up on every post that uses ACTUAL information to make Bruce or Jason or Tim or whomever look like the actual problem in a story where they were actually problematic, like, the SECOND a post gets popular enough....to derail, to condescend, to shout it down with how its just a retcon or its out of character or its just a bad take or how fans with taste know better than to take it seriously.

And why do you care? Like, if we’re all supposed to just live and let live and everyone’s allowed their own interpretations, why this everpresent need to show up all the time with a superior, patronizing ‘oof, this is just not good’ the second one of YOUR faves is in the hotseat, while condescendingly boxing out any posts informing people of how no, actually, Dick and Kory’s breakup WAS linked to Mirage and Dick and Donna’s infamous fight WASN’T the way its commonly talked about and oh yeah there was brainwashing there too and etc, etc....see, when WE do that, we’re just overacting stans who can’t stand others not liking our fave. Instead of just....trying to correct misinformation so more fans can at least engage with the character from a starting point of zero instead of a negative integer.

So why this hypocrisy? Oh yeah, because you don’t WANT the misinformation corrected. Because see, when the misinformation IS corrected, fic writers en masse....make different choices. And that’s why ever since more people started picking up the refrain of “well no actually Dick DIDN’T hate Jason, here’s the proof”.....there’s a lot more stories out there where...shockingly....Dick doesn’t hate Jason. Which bizarrely, does not really work well for the people who WANTED Dick to hate Jason and made a point to SHAPE the narrative to make him hate Jason.....because it wasn’t about that just being their interpretation, and it never was. Because the CHOICE to cut out Dick’s ‘justification for feeling slighted’ by being fired as Robin and pair that specifically WITH Dick resenting Jason for Bruce still making him Robin instead of Dick doing it....that has a narrative cause and effect within a lot of the fics that go with this. It gives Jason eternal underdog status that makes it easy to root for him while positioning someone specifically to blame for that underdog status and unfair playing field, and it also keeps focus off Bruce as the cause of any issues between his sons due to choices HE made, thus one singular figure is positioned as the obstacle to family unity....and that figure isn’t Bruce.

And no canon to the contrary will be acknowledged as legitimate.

Convenient huh?

Especially paired with the ‘thou shalt not con crit on another’s fic’ fandom commandment. Because when you can’t complain about any fanfic depictions whatsoever without immediately and inherently being cast as the rabble-rouser by default.....the ability to shape and dominate a specific fandom narrative becomes veeeeery key. After all, another popular fandom phrase is ‘we’re not the DC writers, complain to them about canon.’ But when there’s no canon complaint to be made to DC specifically, because its not canon we’re actually upset about, and we’re not ‘allowed’ to criticize fandom depictions because people are allowed to have their interpretations......all you have to do is stand your ground and insist that the fandom depictions of Dick are nothing BUT ‘interpretations’ and not acknowledge aaaaaaany of the places where you consciously make the decision to transform canon choices and behavior around him.....and voila. You’ve wrapped everything up in a neat little logic trap. Quite the fait accompli. There’s really no way for anyone to say or do anything ABOUT this little situation here without being ‘disruptive,’ ‘divisive’ and ‘having a negative impact on fandom harmony.’

Its just always gonna be a little weird to me, how much your positivity culture looks a lot like plausible deniability culture instead.

But whatever. That’s just a me problem I guess. Definitely not something anyone else in fandom has anything to do with. Just like they have nothing to do with derailments or condescension or counter arguments to so many of the canon-based Dick Grayson posts I make, and this is also all my doing...wait...hang on. I think I got mixed up again somewhere. Dang it.

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honeytae · 4 years

Text

That’s what I’m here for.

just being honest, this was literally me last weekend. if only i had min yoongi to nurture me through my breakdowns :( but yeah this is extremely self-serving, and i hope it can be relatable to some of my fellow students. every day that passes is one closer to getting that degree, my loves.

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

“What the actual fuck?” You grumbled, staring at the large piece of text in front of you, eyes scanning the lines of the paragraphs in a desperate attempt for any of it to make sense.

Yoongi’s head lifted from his phone, his attention shifting from his social media feed to your hunched over frame at your desk. With a frown, he dropped his phone on the couch cushion, standing up and waddling across the living room to look over your shoulder at the opened textbook in front of you.

Yoongi placed his hands on your shoulders, smoothing his thumbs over the back of your neck before he began to massage at your shoulders.

“You’re tense.” Yoongi frowned at your bunched muscles, continuing to knead his fingers into the flesh in an attempt to soothe the aching area.

You hummed in agreement, sighing as you tipped your head from side to side, your boyfriend wincing at the loud crack of your neck as you moved.

He took advantage of your momentary distraction and shifted your papers around the desk, making a space for him to sit so that he could place himself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” He asked softly, chocolate brown eyes imploring your own glassy eyes as you pouted up at him.

“I’ve been studying for hours and nothing is sticking in my brain. I’m trying, I swear I’m trying but-”

You gulped mid sentence as you tried to hold back your tears, Yoongi reaching forward to smooth your hair back from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear as his other hand squeezed yours in reassurance.

“What can I do to help?” He asked, making you pout even more at the kindhearted man in front of you.

“Nothing, Yoon. This is your day off. You shouldn’t have to spend it coddling me, I’m an adult.” You sat up to look at your textbook again, straightening your back and easing some of the pain you had from sitting in that position for so long.

You heard a sigh from above you, and then your textbook was snatched from your hands, instead placed on Yoongi’s lap as he scanned the pages of information that you’d been attempting to memorize all day.

“Yoongi-”

“Shush, angel, just let me help you.” He said stubbornly, pointer finger tracing down the page as his brain soaked in the long list of vocabulary, most words stretching across the page with their multiple syllables and impossible pronunciations.

It was you that sighed this time, lowering your head to rest on your arms as you anxiously tapped your foot on the floor underneath the desk.

You answered in mumbles to Yoongi’s questions, taking information straight from the pages to quiz you on the list of vocabulary you needed to know. You got some wrong, but whenever you did, Yoongi would give you small hints, making it cement in your brain as you heard the adorably tentative “It starts with an f”s and so on.

It was going pretty well until he asked you one of the open ended questions, silence filling the room as you racked your brain for any information, anything at all that would indicate some kind of clue to what you should’ve been saying.

“I don’t know.” You said in defeat, the painful ball in your throat growing again as you became more and more upset with yourself. Yoongi placed a hand on your head to soothe you, the tone of your voice immediately cluing him to your emotions.

“That’s okay, angel. You’re doing great, these are hard.” He reassured you, leaning down to look at your face as his fingers stroked your hair back from your skin. He was silently looking for tears, ready to scoop you up whenever they inevitably appeared.

“They’re really not, though. I should know this stuff.” You picked your head up from the desk, staring straight ahead to avoid Yoongi’s sad eyes. You knew he hated when you were upset, but you just couldn’t help it right now. You felt like a complete and utter failure to both him and yourself.

“I don’t think I can do this, Yoon.” You lowered your voice in shame, Yoongi frowning deeper as he heard your voice break.

“Yes, you can. You are fully capable, even if you think you aren’t right now.” He reaffirmed, soft in his tone as he saw your weakening state.

“I don’t feel capable of anything right now.” You sighed, voice thick with emotion as you placed your chin on Yoongi’s denim covered kneecap, his hands shifting from the textbook to your scalp as his fingers threaded through your hair.

“That’s okay. That’s what I’m here for.” His hand trailed down your back, circling his palm in soothing patterns as you tipped your head up to look at him.

You cracked a watery smile at that, thankful for the man as he smiled down at you, his attention fully on you as he awaited your next words, knowing there was more on your mind.

“I’m scared that I really can’t do this, though.” You reiterated, sniffling as tears began spilling out over your cheeks.

“You can. I know you can.” He responded again, pulling you up from your chair to set you onto his lap. You straddled Yoongi’s hips easily, burying your face into his neck with an encouraging push on the back of your head from him.

You focused on the drag of his fingers down your spine and the sweet murmerings from the man as he rocked you from side to side in his lap. You don’t even know how long you were sitting there, zoning out as you concentrated on Yoongi’s deep breathing, obviously exaggerated for your benefit as he tried to get you to calm down.

You whined as he suddenly shifted you off of his lap, setting you down to sit in your chair as you looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Yoongi quickly reassured you with a gentle smile, reaching his hand out to grab yours and pulling you up to stand in front of him as he jumped down from the table.

“Where are you going?” You whined, Yoongi kissing your pout before pressing his lips to the tip of your red nose, pulling back after he pressed a sweet kiss to the skin between your furrowed brows.

“You need a break. Come with me to the kitchen, I’ll make you some food and we’ll talk. No work thoughts for now, okay?” He raised his eyebrows as he posed the question, catching a stray tear from your cheek with a swipe of his thumb as you nodded in agreement.

“But I have to-” You cut yourself off when you received a firm glare from him, extending his hand to you with a nod of his head.

“Okay.” You exhaled, Yoongi leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before turning around to head to the kitchen, pulling you along with him.

You allowed your boyfriend to guide you to the kitchen island, pulling the chair out from underneath it and pushing it back in once you were seated.

“You hungry?” Yoongi asked, head tilted to the side adorably as he smiled at your nod.

“Alright, angel.” He kissed your cheek sweetly, turning from you to direct his attention to cooking you a nice meal before he sent you back off to work.

You watched as he began to skin carrots to put into the dish, cracking an egg into the pan on the back burner as he simultaneously watched over the boiling noodles in the other pot.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty while watching Yoongi work, completely concentrated on taking care of you when this should be a day that you take care of him. His days off were so far and few between, did you really have to ruin one of them?

You made the silent decision to get up, scooting the chair back quietly and grabbing the cutting board from beside him. Yoongi’s brows scrunched in confusion as he saw you move out of the corner of his eye, turning around to see you at the sink beginning to rinse the cutting board off.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked incredulously, making you pause in your actions with wide eyes as he glared at you.

“I wanna help you.” You defended yourself, pouting under his glare as you looked back to the half washed cutting board in your hands.

Yoongi laughed in disbelief, setting the knife down on the cutting board and shaking his head as he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you back to the chair beside the kitchen island.

“This is your break. Let me do the work, please?”

It was a gentle plead with you to let loose and let him help you, something that you reluctantly agreed to as you sat back down in your designated chair.

You rested your head in your hands as you watched him cook for you, combining the cooked ingredients into a bowl before presenting it to you with two chopsticks.

He kept his eyes glued to you as he leaned against the counter, watching as you gathered noodles with your chopsticks and shoved them into your mouth. You moaned instantly as the flavor met your taste buds, your boyfriend chuckling as you quickly grabbed more of the dish with your utensils and brought it to your mouth.

“This is so good, Yoon.” You praised your boyfriend, reaching forward to flick your pointer finger at his chest when he responded with a cocky “I know.”

Yoongi easily caught your hand, using it to pull himself closer to you and press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss.

“Eat up, sweetheart. I want that bowl empty.” He ordered, pointing to the food and back to you with his brows raised, a look that told you he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes, sir.”

#bts #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fluff #yoongi #yoongi writing #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi imagines #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #writing #fanfiction #imagines #x reader #fluff

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nzvalley · 3 years

Text

Rewatching some Star Trek: Enterprise

It’s been a long time since I have done one of these posts. What I kind of expected to happen did happen: once I hit season 3 and saw the network meddling, Trip/T’Pol, and the radical shift in tone of the series, it was hard to keep going. But I’m hoping to power through this season, and get to the much improved fourth season.

Just to remind anyone who is here for the first time. I’m doing a rewatch/analysis around the Archer/T’Pol friendship/partnership/relationship, based on my favorite episodes. I will be focusing on them, because that’s the aspect of the show in which I’m more interested.

Catch up on my previous rewatch posts here!

There will also be spoilers, not just for this episode but for the whole show.

Twilight (3x08)

Even though this is easily the shippiest episode for Archer/T’Pol, this isn’t one I automatically turn on when I’m doing a rewatch.

In part, it’s just too sad to rewatch frequently. Partly because it gets total forgotten with no impact on canon. It’s also just an annoying reminder of when the show and these characters were in a much better place.

However, it’s a really great episode overall and for Archer/T’Pol. It reminds the audience of how devoted T’Pol is to Archer specifically, calling back to T’Pol’s speech to Archer before following him into the Expanse. It feels out of place to the rest of the season, like it could have been written before the network mandates.

Just next episode (“Similitude”) we get a T/T’P plot that is equally a standout episode, but which is fully in everybody’s memories and has lasting impacts on the season. This contrast illustrates the suddenly differing priorities of this season.

Up until now, it’s worth reminding, the backbone of the show was how the relationship between Archer and T’Pol (and Shran!) shaped the formation of the Federation. But even in the worst of times, there seems to be a contingent in the writers room who still felt as strongly about Archer/T’Pol as they did in the first two seasons.

The start hooks you in immediately, with Archer’s confusion mirroring our own. Archer stumbles (shirtless!) into Captain T’Pol’s bridge. Seeing T’Pol commanding in her own right is so cool.

After the frantic and engaging teaser, we get a massive time jump. A gray-haired Archer wakes and makes his way through a home he doesn’t remember. He finds a devoted… caretaker… whose effort he can’t fully appreciate yet.

The altered dynamic immediately apparent between Archer and T’Pol, and the obvious changes in her look and demeanor, set the tone for the rest of the episode. Jolene Blalock is amazing as usual. She can play any version of T’Pol. There are great performances throughout, especially by Jolene and Scott.

Pretty much everything in this episode, barring the initial crisis itself and T’Pol’s accident, aren’t canon. As far as I can tell, not even the main two remember the alternate timeline, except maybe on an unconscious level. It’s one of those stories that gets completely stricken from the record, which is why it’s hard to fully appreciate.

Archer saving T’Pol at his own expense reminds the audience of how much he cares. Although it gets erased T’Pol repays that sacrifice in turn, devoting her life to his care.

Phlox’s dedication to finding a cure for Archer, and his overall concern, is another aspect of this episode that’s awesome. For me, the trio of Arhcer/T’Pol/Phlox was always the most interesting.

This episode shows one nearly concrete future where the Xindi win, showing how fragile the mission remains. The slow reveal of how complete the Xindi victory was, and the fragility of their settlement, is nice. This storyline was ahead of its time. Just a few years later BSG told a similar story, though much better and in a much-expanded manner.

Jolene does a good job, but has to explain so much story in so little time. This story seems like it should have been given more time to breathe, like it should’ve played out over 3 or 4 episodes. At least one more!’

T’Pol and Soval always have great scenes.

T’Pol: I won’t leave them. Soval: Them? Or Him?

T’Pol reiterates her choice of Archer and the humans over her own species, much as she did when initially choosing to join the mission to the Expanse.

T’Pol reveals she knows Archer’s deepest secrets now, even the proposal that was rejected because Margaret Mullen didn’t want to become a Starfleet widow. Has T’Pol made herself into a kind of Starfleet widow?

“Our relationship has… evolved over the years.”

Future Phlox is looking sharp. T’Pol’s hope about the treatment shines through.

Captain Tucker! Malcolm’s goatee!

Given the seeming romantic bias of the writer, it’s not all that surprising Trip/T’Pol sours pretty quickly in this timeline. Not only did T’pol and Trip’s dalliance fall apart, but they have seemingly stayed apart for years. T’Pol and her concern continues to follow Archer.

I may have missed similar instances before, but T’Pol’s casual, intimate, comforting touch in private is so cute. And a great visual indicator of how much T’Pol has grown. Archer seems on the verge of broaching the topic of the intimacy when he starts, “If this works…”

T’Pol once again turns down a chance to leave Archer’s side, even after he has seemingly healed.

Phlox: I understand I may have a passenger on my voyage home T’Pol: I’m remaining at the settlement for the time being. He may need my help during his recovery. Phlox: Have you told the Captain how you feel about him? It’s obvious you’ve become quite attached.

The blitz of exposition from Phlox and T’Pol to Trip about changing the past… there’s just so much going on in this episode. This story needed at least one more episode… Or maybe this could have been the plot to an Enterprise movie. Which still could work, given that the narrative necessitates the actors be older for most of it.

General Shran!

The bridge is gone. There are so many intense and devastating moments here… and then it all gets totally erased! Ugh.

Archer remains self-sacrificing to the end, deciding to just blow himself up if that’ll destroy the parasites. Ultimately saving the timeline through the same impulse that set it astray in the first place. He tries to get Phlox and T’Pol to save themselves, but they remain as steadfastly loyal as they have ever been. I love these three so much!

All three die carrying through the mission to the end. Phlox, then T’Pol, then Archer. Archer and T’Pol fall together and are laying together when this timeline comes to and end. The closest the ship ever came to being canon… and poof it’s gone.

There’s a tag at the end that’s real, with T’Pol admonishing Archer that he should have left her in the hallway accident that initially debilitated him. This calls back to her similar claim after her experiences on the Selaya. Archer, who has been isolating himself and becoming more ruthless, reverts back to his old self when it comes to T’Pol.

T’Pol: You could have been seriously injured. I told you to leave me behind. Archer: Fortunately, I don’t take orders from you. T’Pol: I believe you wanted to see this? Archer: Rosemary’s Baby? T’Pol: You were obviously looking forward to it. And since you’re not going to be able to attend tonight… Archer: Thanks.

T’Pol is always there for her Captain, whatever the situation! But the second half of the scene kind of ruins the sentiment. For as good as the rest of the episode is, this end scene is muddled in terms of what tone the writer was going for. I don’t think the actors quite got it either. It seems like Archer repays T’Pol’s kindness by being a brat. And when he drops a ‘nurse’ line… do they remember on some level? Or was that just for the audience? Either way, it’s a weirdly comedic end to a heart-wrenching and emotional episode.

#Star Trek Enterprise #Enterprise #Twilight #Captain Archer #T'Pol #Jolene Blalock #scott bakula

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that-wizard-oki · 3 years

Note

Hello! I've been aware of your blog for years, and made a Tumblr blog very recently. I want to say that your posts are extremely well thought out, and give the storyline of Wizard101 a lot of much needed depth. I think if Wiz had the gameplay and story structure of Pirate101, it would benefit highly especially for worlds like Azteca and Khrysalis. Currently I'm rewriting Wiz and your posts are a huge inspiration. Finally. what are your thoughts on Arc 3? Imo it had potential but failed.

Hey there! Thank you so much for all your kind words, I’m glad you enjoy my thoughts and theories about the game- and I’m flattered to hear they inspire you to create your own fan work :D

Personally, I wouldn’t say that Arc 3 failed in any sense. I think the idea of a children's/family game to tackle the theme of a broken family\divorce is pretty smart- it gives the opportunity to adults who play this game with their kids to find a way to perhaps talk about their own experience with the same themes in their real lives (if it applies to them). Likewise, i also like that the story focuses on that the CHILDREN are the one who have to clean up the PARENTS mess, more or less. Often times the children in families who have a parent/parents that are either split, should split, or are abusive to one another, are the ones who get caught in the cross fire- this is SO evident with Mellori and Bat in Empyrea.

Following that, I think it was also super clever to have Mellori (and the wizard) initially ALSO be fighting against Spider’s children. Another common occurrence in families that experience abuse between their parents/ect, is that one or both of the parents will try to divide their children onto sides- furthering the divide and conflict in the family itself. THIS was exactly what was happening in arc 3- we weren’t technically fighting Raven and Spider, but their children were fighting each other in their names.

One of the most beautiful things to come out of this game was the fact that Mellori and Bat WERE able to see through that, and instead focused on the real threat at hand- their parents. In fact, it is their COMBINED power that allows the wizard to defeat the result of Raven and Spider- the Aethyr Titan. This reflects so well into reality, where when the children of broken families try their damned to support one another, instead of letting their parents continue to control and divide them, it leads to the kids being able to break the domino effect that comes with that kind of family dynamic. They are able to become individuals- instead of being some mini version or “part” of their parents (which is also clever on KI’s part to make Mellori and Bat/Rat/Scorpion LITERAL extensions of Raven/Spider, which makes it seem like they are just kind of mindless bots doing whatever their entrusted parent tells them).

One part i particularly like as well is that towards the end of Empyrea, Mellori talk about how she’s going to go home to her mom- and it’s not Raven, it’s Baba Yaga. I absolutely love this idea that, yea, Mellori (and any kid for that matter) SHOULD be able to choose who their mom/dad/parent is if their birth parent(s) don't provide for you the way a parent should. I think that is a SUPER important lesson for Kids AND parents to hear. You choose your own family if that’s what it comes down to, and there is NO shame in that.

That being said, i do have my issues with some things too- this might seem small, but I never liked how when we’re in the Husk, and Raven and Spider are talking to one another about who’s “really” at fault, and eventually Raven goes “oh what have i done?” and Spider just goes “.... Yea were were BOTH really bad huh?” Like.... listen, sure, Raven probably shouldn’t have locked Cob away for eternity and stole his chaos heart in order to reform the spiral, BUT imma be real with y’all... Spider also did shit to aggravate Raven- specifically, he messed with her kids into a fucking war. I mean this half sarcastically, but tbh, if you mess with a mother’s kids... that's fucking on you man, you know the grave your digging for yourself on that one lmao.

But more seriously- i feel like they REALLY tried to make Raven out to be “worse” than Spider, and having Spider just beguile her with his words at the end in a way were she ended up being like “oh nooo IM the really bad one, oh no oh noo :((” JUST for him to be like “no its ok babe :) we’re BOTH equally as bad, stay here with me and we can be bad and alone together :)”

Actually now that i write that out, it is a little.. weird that Spider kinda got what he wanted- to be with Raven, when imo, they really should have STAYED split. I don’t come from a divorced family, but I’ve many friends who do, and I’ve gathered that more often than not... divorce can be a good thing, as it is likely to stop/lessen the conflict within families. I think that yea, they both did bad things to one another, and need to stay apart, not spend the rest of eternity together.

That’s probably my biggest qualm with the entirety of Arc 3, beyond the various obvious one, which is that Morganthe played like, absolutely no part in it lmao. I’ve talked endlessly about it, so i won’t repeat myself too much lol.

Just to briefly reiterate- i think that Morganthe, the one who re-discovered shadow magic, was groomed by the Shadow Magi, and very blatantly infused with something akin to the conversion tables we see in Khrysalis, I think she would have been an invaluable source of information and help for the Wizard. Not only does she probably know the most about Shadow Magic outside of Spider, but it’s insanely alluded to that she was under his control- perhaps even had contact or conversation with him somehow in her time as Shadow queen.

The biggest frustration of her lack of presence though, comes from the way Khrysalis built up this INSANELY interesting Foil between the Wizard and her. The way that they both weirdly fit the prophecy, the way their lead into The Hive was so eerily mirrored, the fact that we were both called the Children of Light and Shadow by Spider, and not to even mention how the shared feelings of loneliness and fear of failure as students of Ambrose... like I could go on about these two and how amazing it would have been for them both to work together in arc 3, but also help heal and grow as The Children of Light and Shadow... but that’s not what we got unfortunately.

Anywho, i don’t wanna ramble on about that too much because i touched on it in another ask post and you can look at that if ya want in my tag, but yea! Those are my general thoughts on Arc 3. Again, i love this arc, i think it truly has some of the most nuanced writing and characters thus far in the game.

Besides, i always think they could easily write in Morganthe’s return for a redemption with the wizard, especially now with the Wizard seemingly trying to fight their own shadows.

Hope that satisfied your question though, and good luck with your writings :D

#wizard101 #oki answers a thing #marvelousmagicalaura

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the-writing-mobster · 3 years

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So, you said that “You’re What I Want” will be following the political conflicts between Monsters and Humans (which I cannot WAIT to see), but I was wondering how you would show this? Of course, racism (speciesism???) is a heavy topic to cover, especially in writing, and is shown in different ways. Expecting that the humans won’t take the freedom of monsters so lightly, what type of Monster racism can the readers expect to see in YWIW?

(Also, love your writing and characters! Can’t wait to see more of your beautiful content!💖)

Thank you for the ask! And great question!

⟨⟨I want to make it clear that if this is the only interaction someone has with topics such as; Racism, Anti-Blackness, Xenophobia and anti-Semitism then I would encourage them to get more involved.

I'm happy to offer some form of insight, but I would also urge and encourage one to watch media made for and by POC and not just starting and stopping at fanfiction. I'll leave some good recs in the tags⟩⟩

When it comes to the monsters, the heaviest amount of discrimination they would face would be on the basis they are considered "demons." Their biggest prosecutors would be Evangelical Christian Fundamentalists. (Lol who ISN'T victimized by evangelicals?)

I pull a lot of inspiration off of right wing conspiracy theories about The New World Order and how Christian evangelicals would react specifically to "Demons" (not good)

Here's an example of the type of discrimination monsters would face;

Fetishization (shit like "I heard monsters have "ruts"/Big dicks/are really rough in bed/freaky/I want to fuck a monster girl..." shit like that. They would be treated like a Sexuality and not, ya know, sentient beings capable of thought and feeling... It would be awful 😥)

A LOT of "The end times are here" and "this is the democratic baby eater pedophile elites last step in their plan for world domination! Letting hell loose on us! Just lettin Satan walk amongst us, brothur!"

Literal dehumanization for not being... Humans... There would be a lot of legal problems trying to get paperwork done. Legitimizing monster identities, their money, integration.

Interspecies/racial relationships would be demonized (no pun intended) and fetishized.

NIMBYism

White Flight 2: Electric Boogaloo

Think Alex Jones and Marjorie Taylor Greene.... Yeah. YEAH, now you know what I'm talking about.

Keep in mind, New World Order conspiracy theories are inherently anti-Semitic and I'm not about to erase that. In fact, knowing the behavior of right wing political pundits, they would undoubtedly rope in other minorities such as Jewish people as a way to blame them for the demons on the surface.

Also, hmmm, do any of these sound familiar? If so, it's because White Supremacists have the same fears and reactions to everything.

⟨⟨Again, I want to reiterate that these kinds of discrimination already happen irl to MULTIPLE GROUPS but esp Black Americans and I would hope that a fanfiction isn't the thing opening peoples' eyes to this; but if that's the way some people learn, then I'd want to do it as well as possible, and I'll do my best to provide resources as well. This is not a light topic to be used for entertainment value, ya know?⟩⟩

Who would be the first to accept them in a real world situation?

The queer community would def be one of the first to accept them ESP the Black Queer Community, simply because it was that community [black queer individuals] which opened the doors for pretty much all civil rights PERIOD.

Don't get me wrong, there would be some backlash from human marginalized communities, as a way to distance themselves, but ultimately, the reintroduction of magic into society could be used as a great tool to protect vulnerable people and the communities would learn to hopefully accept, empathize and fight with the demons. It's the true anarchists understanding that MY LIBERATION is dependant on YOUR LIBERATION, and is the drive to work together.

This fic would explore magical solutions that are based in real world solutions (as in, all the solutions are stuff we, humans could do in real life, it's just being portrayed in a magical way with mythical creatures) For example, mutual aid, building community, housing the homeless, and so much more.

There is an emphasis on Intersectionality. After all, you can't spell community without unity.

That being said, that won't really be tackled until the second part, as the first part is dealing with Crime Syndicates.

These are all extremely heavy topics to tackle, but I do want to explore the real world consequences of the world Toby Fox created and in my humble opinion, left unfinished.

If I have any Black, Jewish, Latin and/or Asian American readers, I would love for you to reach out through PM and possibly beta for this fic, because when handling these topics it is imperative to have sensitivity readers.

ALSO if you're a POC content creator, feel free to hop on and promote your own fanfics, art and writing, I'd be more than happy to give you all a space and promote your art. As far as I'm concerned, this blog is safe space for this fandom.

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thespianbooks · 3 years

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A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 22//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Just in time for ACOSF’s release tomorrow! Enjoy chapter 22!

XXX

The entire estate was abuzz with activity in preparation for the encounter with Keir and his legion of rebels. As predicted, once Rhys and the other High Lords had lifted the wards from our armed forces, Kallon alerted the steward and frantically gathered the Illyrian numbers he rallied for his rebellion. We had all been surprised when Azriel's reports indicated that those numbers had dropped—not significantly, but enough to know that we now had an advantage over the Illyrians. Those who abandoned Kallon's Illyrian rebels appeared at neither camp, leaving Cassian to assume they were remaining indifferent to either side. Regardless, they would be dealt with after this ordeal.

Through this nightmare, my heart not only ached for my mate—for the pain he endured knowing it was his mother's people who sought to betray him, but for Cassian as well. He commanded those armies, fought at their side through two wars, trained in their camps and, in spite of their ire, sought their approval. Their losses were his as well, and he took the brunt of the blame onto himself, along with their distaste. From the beginning, I saw the pain that swirled behind those hazel eyes; knowing despite everything he did, how hard he tried, they saw him as nothing more than a bastard-born Illyrian and aspired to bring him and his brothers down.

In the two days it took for Keir and his Darkbringers to arrive at Ironcrest, amidst the frenzy that ensued at the estate while every High Lord present worked and met with us in order to prepare, I tried time and time again to find a moment alone with Cassian. I wasn't sure what I would say, how I would comfort him, but I at least wanted to offer him some kind of support. He had spent the last several months, the duration of my pregnancy, trying to set me at ease; promising an end to the coup and the rebel Illyrians, all the while his own inner turmoil caused him a great deal of pain that was long-stemmed. It was my turn now to offer him some peace in the hours leading up to a confrontation he previously hoped would never occur.

By the time I managed to find the general, I had thought he was alone in the library—only seeing his winged shadow outside the double doors, until I heard Nesta's voice mingling with his in a tense and hushed conversation. I had been too far away from the doors to hear their discussion, but based on how impassioned my sister's low voice sounded, I knew better than to interrupt. Ever since opening up to me about her loss and her time with Cassian in the mountains, Nesta again began to warm towards me. She still held onto that powerful veneer, but I was glad to see that she no longer used it to push me away. Instead, she surprised my mate and I by showing up in Rhys's office with Cassian just moments before our morning meeting. With Keir and Kallon officially together at the Ironcrest camp, this would be our last assembly before all the High Lords and our forces left.

"I'll be going to this encounter," Nesta said after we concluded the session. "Since my sister is unable to travel in her condition, I will be going in her stead; as a representative of the High Lady of the Night Court."

I stared at her in disbelief, shocked that she not only acknowledged my position, but that she was volunteering to face a potentially violent conflict—for me. Despite the healthier state of mind she was in a decade later, I knew the events that took place with Hybern were still raw for her; as they still were for me. Yet here she was now, offering to represent my position in our court. I glanced at Cassian, but judging by his arrogant smirk, he already knew of her plans. I briefly exchanged a look with Rhys, a small smile on his face, but his eyes conveyed a very simple response: it was up to me.

I paused as I turned to look at my sister. Her chin set and hands clasped formerly across her abdomen as her grey-blue eyes stared intensely at mine. "Are you sure?" I asked, unable to help but be a little hesitant.

She simply nodded, unyielding. "It isn't right. For me to sit idle, when I am capable. After what happened last time-" she paused, thinking back to the attack on Velaris—when we had been housed safely in the Cabin with Elain. "You have your health, your youngling, to worry about. As your eldest sister, I can do more. I can represent you and your position in this court."

My eyes burned as I dipped my head in approval. "Thank you, Nesta."

"Well this will be a welcome addition," Helion mused. "Given how the Illyrians quake in her presence."

"Perhaps some may drop their weapons at the very sight of her," Thesan added.

"That may be wishful thinking," Tarquin said, though he too acknowledged the unnerving demeanor my sister possessed.

We all did, and knew that her attendance would no doubt send a clear message in this coup. Her powers were still unknown to us, whether she knew of them or not—she never said, but the lethal aura about her remained as strongly as it had the day she'd been made.

"If no one else has anything to add, then I say it's time," Rhys said with a look at the other High Lords, their entourages, and then at me.

My eyes still burned as I met his, my heart pounding in my chest and I wondered if he could hear it—feel it, down the bond. When no one else spoke up, he cleared his throat. "I will take Feyre up to the Cabin and meet you all at the designated camp just outside of Ironcrest," he said.

"I'll meet you there with Viviane and Eira once they are ready, it shouldn't be long, and your shadowsinger has shared the coordinates of where I should winnow," Kallias added.

Azriel nodded at the High Lord of Winter before addressing us. "I will bring Elain at the same time the High Lord and Lady of Winter arrive," he said quietly.

"Thank you Azriel," I said, quickly swiping at a stray tear.

The emotion laced in my words was indication enough for everyone to leave and attend to any last minute preparations. They were gone in a matter of seconds, but I hardly noticed; unable to look away from Rhys's violet eyes. With the room cleared, he stepped closer, holding my face gently as he brushed away the tears that began to fall in earnest.

"I know I can't go, but," I sniffed. "I don't know how I'll be able to part with you, knowing the danger you face. I...I…"

Rhys pressed his brow against mine as I wept and held me closer. For days my hormones had left me anxious for the moment my mate would leave with the others and put an end to Keir and his betrayal; so, I allowed myself to give into those emotions and the tears that accompanied them. These precious seconds in my mate's arms were just what I needed in order to feel at ease—to let him go while I stayed behind with our unborn child. Once my crying subsided, I lifted my eyes to his again and pulled back just enough to now hold his face in my hands and stare into his sparkling violet eyes.

"Don't let him get a rise out of you. You are a warrior, and warriors know when to pick their fights," I began, reiterating the very words he said to me during the war with Hybern. "Their crimes won't go unpunished. You are the High Lord of the Night Court, night triumphant. You go there, put an end to this treachery, and come back to me—to us, alive." I said fiercely, my voice quavering as our breaths mingled.

Rhysand's answering grin was slow as he nodded his head. "I swear it, High Lady," he said before pulling me into a deep kiss.

XXX

Even with my mate's promise, I couldn't help pacing about the living area of the Cabin once he, Kallias, and Azriel left. Elain and Viviane eyed me warily as I moved, Eira peacefully sleeping in a small cradle Viviane had brought along and placed just beside the leather sofa.

"Feyre, why don't you come rest?" Viviane urged as she stood, crossing over to where I had stopped pacing and began rubbing a sore spot on my lower back.

I shook my head. "I can't sit still," I said as my only reply.

It was true. The uncertainty of the events unfolding at this very moment left me restless. Until I knew Rhysand, our allies, and my friends and family were safe, I would remain on edge.

Viviane touched my shoulder gently. "You do know that walking around so vigorously can stimulate the body into going into early labor? If you keep pacing around here like this, you might very well give birth before the others return," she gave me a wry smile when I hesitated. "We don't want that now do we?"

I sighed in defeat and allowed her to help me back to the sofa, helping me lower myself onto the seat slowly.

Elain popped up just as I sat with a grunt, "I'll make us some tea!" However, just as she said that, a freshly brewed pot appeared on the table before us—along with three tea cups. She laughed nervously, remembering the magic that existed here, before going to pour us each a cup.

"I know it's hard not to worry, believe me," Viviane said as she sat beside me. "But think of it this way: this issue will finally be resolved."

I sighed in irritation. "That's all anyone has been telling me for days, what I've been telling myself," I snapped back, but immediately regretted it.

For her part, Viviane smiled in understanding-all too familiar with the quick shifts in mood that pregnancy caused.

"I just hate feeling like some kind of damsel in distress," I admitted.

"You are anything but, Feyre," Elain said as she handed me a cup.

She's right, my love

I nearly startled at the sound of Rhys's voice through the bond. Is it over? I asked in return.

His dark chuckle made me shiver. Unfortunately, we haven't started yet. We're on the front lines, waiting for Keir and Kallon to arrive

I gulped and knew this time he could feel my heart racing. I thought you might want to see things firsthand, rather than have me fill you in later

Through the bond, I felt his offering hand, dark talons beckoning me as I took it. His black adamant shields yielded to me, and a second later I was looking through my mate's eyes. From his peripheral vision, I could see Nesta standing immediately to his left while Mor and Amren stood at either side of them—Azriel and Cassian flanking them. Based on all our meetings, I knew the other High Lords, excluding Eris, were lined up just behind them. In spite of the crisp air in the Illyrian mountains, I could feel the sun on my mates' skin, could see it reflecting off his Illyrian leathers. Unlike my galloping heart, Rhys's was steady and calm; even as his sharp eyes picked up movement in the distance.

Slowly, arrogantly, Keir walked with Kallon and the commander of his Darkbringer army on either side of him. His hands were neatly folded behind his back, as they often were whenever we saw him at the Hewn City, his chin lifted proudly. Kallon at least had the sense to look a little intimidated at the sight of the three most powerful Illyrians in history on the opposite side of the battlefield; that intimidation probably coming not only from his lack of experience, but from his unexpected lack of numbers with the Illyrians. As he approached, I could see their soldiers following at a distance, but as the trio got closer, the troops stopped.

I could feel Rhys's muscles tense, wings flaring slightly at the steward's outright arrogance as he approached with a smug grin. I noticed Mor's own muscles go rigid, Amren and Nesta remained the picture of menacing ease, their cool facade's masking any rage they might've been feeling. Finally, with only a few dozen paces between them, Keir stopped in his tracks—meeting my mate face-to-face.

"Rhysand," the older male said by way of greeting.

I heard Mor growl from beside Rhys. "My lord," she corrected.

Keir didn't acknowledge her, his dark gaze penetrating as they stayed on mine—on Rhysand's.

"You forget yourself, Keir," he replied coolly, ever the embodiment of casual grace, even in the face of such blatant disrespect and deceit. "Since when do you address your High Lord by first name, and so casually too?"

The male seemed to ignore Rhys's words altogether, simply casting a glance over my mate's shoulder at the other High Lords aligned behind him—their forces also staged at an interval behind them.

"I see you've rallied this bunch. How you all actually managed to become friends after Hybern is truly a surprise to me," Keir scoffed, his disdain echoing for the word 'friends' in particular.

"Especially with that one," he motioned to Tamlin standing beside Tarquin at the far-right of the line.

I could feel Rhys's patience wavering, his dark powers seeping into his shadows and making them stir lightly. I ran my delicate fingertips along his shields to calm him, sending him another reminder: You are Night Triumphant. He is nothing.

"You openly plot against me, my mate, my crown, by rallying your army and joining with rebellious Illyrians in order to...what? Overthrow me? Kill me and take my throne as your own?" Rhys asked, his rage still in check for now.

"I've only come to take back what has rightfully belonged to my bloodline for centuries, before that ancestor of yours came along and claimed the seat of the High Lord for himself," Keir replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "It was one thing for your father to rule as High Lord, but to allow a half-breed disgrace to sully the throne? I have been complacent for far too long, especially now with that mate of yours carrying an abomination of such obscure proportions."

I felt Rhys hold back a growl, every ounce in his body wanting to retaliate for the threat against his mate, against me and our unborn child. Instead, he appeared outwardly unfazed. "You mean to demean my position by pointing out that I am half Illyrian, and yet here you are, allied with them," he said casually, his mask remaining the picture of ease.

"The Illyrians don't want a half-breed High Lord anymore than Keir and his lot do," Kallon spoke up. His voice was strong, but young, attesting to the inexperienced warrior that he was.

"You can come back once you've been around and bled for a few centuries, boy," Cassian retorted, all seven siphons flickering. "In the meantime, you're too wet behind the ears to speak on behalf of the Illyrians."

Keir shot Kallon a warning glance that silenced him. Turning back to Rhys, Keir straightened his shoulders, but before he could answer with some clever reply, Rhys cut him off with a laugh. A dark, whole-bodied guffaw that I had never heard come from him before. It was unscrupulous and dripped with condescension. I didn't have to see the rest of our party to feel the mood shift.

"Am I meant to be intimidated? You have your army of Darkbringers, who are assuredly substantial in numbers and skill, but yet ally yourself with the self-appointed leader of mutinous Illyrians, while said leader has only lived a couple of decades and has never seen the true course of battle," Rhys shook his head with another dark chuckle. "Perhaps the centuries haven't fared so well for you after all, it seems old age has made you lose all sense of reality"

The older male narrowed his gaze, darkened eyes igniting with contempt. "You think me a fool, Rhysand? That I wouldn't find a suitable ally outside these winged brutes?" Kallon's stare was seditious, but Keir ignored him and finally met Mor's gaze. "Perhaps, daughter, you would be glad to see another familiar face?"

Mor only raised an unamused brow at him, the sound of approaching footsteps coming from behind the group. Through my mate's eyes I saw Keir's widen as Eris stepped in line beside Tamlin; with the other High Lord's of Prythian he scoffed at only minutes before.

"Sorry about my pretty lies, Keir, but it was just too easy tricking another old male out of his sense of entitlement," Eris remarked, and though I couldn't see him, I could hear the hubris in his voice as he addressed the steward.

The male fumed at Eris's words, refusing to meet Rhysand's gaze as my mate took a step forward. "Surrender now, Keir. It's time to wake up and realize just how futile your efforts have been," Rhys said, the commanding voice of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian returning.

Of course, Keir continued to seethe as he returned a detestable look at Mor before finally facing Rhys again. He took a couple of steps forward, nostrils flaring as he spat, "You think I will yield so easily? I will correct the mistake I made centuries ago with you and murder that monstrosity your mate will bear in its cradle."

As soon as that last word came out of his mouth, everything seemed to move slowly. Blinding, white-hot rage exploded within my mate, but before he could even react, it was Mor that winnowed from his side in a split second to her father. She winnowed in behind him, an Illyrian dagger in hand, and stabbed him straight through the throat—blood splattering on her face as Keir's eyes widened again. He seemed to try and speak before Mor twisted the blade, pushing it further into his flesh. A wet, strangled sound came out of Keir's mouth as it filled with blood, Mor then kicked the back of his legs and sent him to his knees. I saw her mutter something into his ear, but couldn't hear the exact words before his body dropped to the ground in front of her.

As blood pooled from his throat, Mor stood over his body and didn't look up when Kallon shot to the skies, yelling orders to their Illyrian forces; the Darkbringer commander turning and shouting similar orders before drawing a blade aimed at Mor, who in her adrenaline-filled rage quickly pulled out her own and stabbed him through the gut. The last thing I heard was Cassian's own shouts before Rhys pushed me from his mind, sending me back to the Cabin without warning.

I gasped as though I had been holding my breath throughout the entire ordeal, grasping at my chest and stomach simultaneously as I heaved for breaths. Viviane and Elain were already at my side, but I couldn't make out anything they were saying to me as my mind raced from what I had just witnessed. Of the blood that seeped into the grass, of the gurgling sounds Keir made as he lay dying, the sounds of blades being drawn, and orders being yelled. I squeezed my eyes shut as the images kept flashing through my vision, breathing becoming nearly unattainable as I tried to desperately fight them away; reprising memories of my mate lying dead on the ground after the last war beginning to flash along with the others.

No no no no no no no

I couldn't lose him; I couldn't lose any of them.

Rhysand.Rhysand.Rhysand!

Suddenly, I felt a gentle glimmer at my core, followed by the movement of my son stretching inside of me. That glimmer seemed to warm me from the inside out as my panic slowly ebbed away, Viviane and Elain's voices finally coming through.

"Feyre? Can you hear me?" It was Viviane, and I realized then that her hands held my shoulders gently.

I opened my eyes gradually and met with her piercing and concerned blue eyes. My breaths finally regulated as she guided me back into a normal breathing cycle, knowing that I could at last hear her words. I realized then that I was clutching my belly and looked down at it as I felt my son move again. I loosed another slow breath and caressed it instead, closing my eyes as tears slipped down my cheeks.

"Oh Feyre," Elain whispered as she sat beside me, wrapping her arms around me carefully.

I leaned into her embrace, silently crying as I began to relax—this abating moment contrasting with the one I had with Rhys. Viviane rubbed my shoulder gently, and they both waited patiently for me to calm.

"I was there," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I saw what happened, through Rhysand's eyes."

Viviane frowned, "Are they all right?" She asked.

I paused. "I saw Keir die. Mor stabbed him in the throat, and then they were all shouting. Just as the fighting was about to begin, he sent me back." I said, meeting her worried gaze apologetically.

I felt Elain go rigid as I explained how Keir had been killed, no doubt recalling the gruesome details of how she had done the same with the King of Hybern. I pulled back from her arms slowly, sitting upright with a weary sigh before I went into a full detailed account of everything I had seen—that had been said and done. By the end of it, Viviane's concern seemed to marginalize.

"They'll be all right," she said. "Keir and Kallon were vastly outnumbered, so the fighting won't last for much longer. They'll have no choice but to surrender."

I nodded, though a kernel of doubt still lingered. I looked down at my stomach again, rubbing the expanse of it as my son continued to stretch and kick at his leisure. The glimmering reminder that was him had brought me back to reality, from the edge of my panic. I closed my eyes as I felt him move, feeling another flutter in response as I continued to stroke my belly.

Thank you, baby.

XXX

Hours passed and there was still no word from the others. I tried reaching down the bond on a few occasions, only to be met with my mate's impenetrable black adamant. As time went on, Eira was a welcome distraction. She awoke from her nap in good spirits, cooing and smiling at Viviane and Elain as they fussed over her. I watched from my seat with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes as I idly brushed my fingers along my stomach, thoughts still on my mate and the others as I wondered what held them for so long.

There was no doubt our numbers outweighed theirs; so, while we had hoped fighting wouldn't ensue, now that it had, it should've been settled quickly—a slaughter. I did my best to focus on Eira, picturing what my own future with Sebastian would be in a few short months, but every few minutes or so my thoughts returned to Rhysand and the others. I thought of Mor and how aptly she took out her father and his commander, what possible ramifications would come from her impulses, though I couldn't blame her for it. I wondered if Nesta and Amren had been able to keep a safe distance once the fighting began; if Azriel or Cassian would be hurt while taking down their own kind, though I knew the latter would feel more of a burden than the former.

Finally, a knock came at the door before it opened, Rhys striding inside with Azriel and Kallias following closely behind.

"Oh, thank the Cauldron!" Viviane exclaimed, gathering Eira to her breast as she quickly stood.

Kallias had his daughter and mate wrapped in his arms only seconds later, but I was too distracted with my own overwhelming relief as I saw my mate. I choked on a sob as those star-flecked violet eyes met mine, and as I struggled to push myself upright, Rhysand quickly pulled me into an embrace as he dropped to his knees before me. I slid forward, meeting his knees with mine as I landed on the ground, kissing his face and brushing back the loose strands of his hair as he did the same.

Tell me you're alright. I pleaded

I am, Feyre. Everything's alright

Though the three of them were dirty and bloodied, their faces showing the exhaustion of battle, they were here in one piece. They were alive and safe.

Rhysand's hands held my stomach gently as our brows touched, his eyes lined with silver as he stroked it gently, solace washing over him as well.

Is he...?

He's fine, we both are.

His shoulders went slack as one hand held my hip firmly. "The others…?" I asked aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Fine," he said as he pressed a kiss to my brow and pulled away from me.

He helped me back onto the sofa as we faced the others. Kallias had an arm slid behind Viviane's back, and from the corner of my eye I saw Elain quickly pull her hands away from Azriel's when Rhys rose to his feet. There were still tears welled in her eyes, and I saw the shadowsinger curl his scarred fists closed once Elain's delicate ones left his touch.

"The bastards managed to hold their own for a while, but with hardly any leadership in the wake of Keir's death, we had them overrun after an hour or so," Rhys explained to us.

"Kallon's novice knowledge as a warrior showed. He stood no chance against Cassian's direction and tactics," Azriel added.

"Is he dead too?" I asked.

"Not yet. Cassian got a hold of him and knocked him unconscious. Probably would've killed him, if Rhysand hadn't insisted they take him prisoner," Kallias answered.

A quick nod at Azriel, "We have plans for him and the other camp lords that went against us." Rhys said.

"But Keir is dead? Mor killed him?" Viviane asked.

"Yes, him and about a dozen other Darkbringers. Outside of that, there weren't many casualties," Kallias replied.

"We spent the rest of the time rounding up the rest of their army as they surrendered, stationing prisoner camps that Cassian, Azriel and Devlon will oversee as we plan our next steps," Rhys went on. "As for the Darkbringers, Mor and Amren are taking them back to the Hewn City."

I gulped as I recalled Mor's rage and thought of how she would handle the army of traitors her father raised. I sighed shakily and motioned for Rhys as my relief was replaced by a wave of nausea. Taking note of my illness, he helped me to my feet without another word and I quickly crossed over to the nearest bathing room—making it to the toilet just in time as I vomited. I could barely hear the sound of the voices talking in the other room over the sound of my retching, but only a minute later Rhys entered the bathing room with me, holding my hair and rubbing my back until the nausea passed.

Resting my back against the hard planes of his chest, I closed my eyes as he flushed away the mess and summoned a cool washcloth to place on my forehead. He then lifted me in his arms easily, carrying me down the hallway and towards the small bedroom.

"They left?" I asked after I noticed how quiet it was.

Rhys nodded as he sat me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Feel better?" he asked.

I sighed heavily with a slight nod, removing the damp cloth from my head. "Yes...I think everything just hit me," I said tiredly, truly feeling the weight of it all lifting.

Is Mor okay?

"She's been waiting for that moment for centuries. Today she finally had enough," Rhys replied aloud—exhaustion as clear in his voice as it was in his eyes.

I nodded in acknowledgment and squeezed his hand, taking note of the blood that still coated his fingers. "It's over…" I whispered.

Rhys squeezed my hand back, the bed giving way as he sat beside me. "Yes, it is."

"There's still so much to do," I said, mind beginning to race.

"There is," he confirmed, a strong hand returning to the apex of my belly. "But we still have time before he comes."

My eyes stung as my sense of relief returned and I let out a wet laugh as he stroked my stomach. "He'll be safe," I said with a quiet sob.

His eyes stayed on my stomach, those beautiful eyes going distant. "He would have never been in danger if I wasn't the male that I am. If you hadn't accepted our bond, or married me, then-"

"I wouldn't be here right now if you weren't the male you are, Rhysand. He wouldn't exist without you, and I...I wouldn't either," I interrupted as I took his face in my hands again, forcing him to meet my fierce gaze.

Those violet eyes shattered at my words and a second later his arms were wrapped around me once again, pulling me onto his lap as I enveloped my arms around him in return and held him just as closely. I shook with a sob as I buried my face in his hair as his lips brushed against my neck and breathed in my scent. With this burden lifted from both of our shoulders, we no longer had to pretend to enjoy whatever short-lived peace we had been afforded during this ordeal. We now had a peace that had the potential to last for a great deal longer; a peace that our son would be born into and thrive.

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 9

Y’ALL THOUGHT I WAS JOKING WHEN I SAID “ I JUST WANT TO SEE SIMEON [REDACTED] AND [REDACTED] WHILE [REDACTED] AND [REDACTED] ALL THE WHILE MC AND LUCIFER [REDACTED] UNTIL SIMEON IS [REDACTED] OUT OF HIS MIND” I wasn’t.

I’m so, so, so, sorry that this chapter took so long to come out. (シ_ _)シ There was a lot of self-doubt when it came to writing it so it took a little more time before I realized my original plan was the right way to go. I’ve been really excited to write this, so I hope it translated well. Hope y’all enjoy!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Pairing: Simeon x Lucifer x Reader, Lucifer x Simeon Genre: REALLY filthy smut Wordcount: 7,400 ish Tags: Threesome F/M/M, Spitroasting, Pegging, rough sex, overstimulation, chastity devices Summary: Desperate for release, Simeon's willing to give you everything, including his body. It's just a shame he's too prideful to do it alone and once again needs to call in a favor.

Plunge

Your kisses were hot enough to brand his skin. Lips, breath, scent, all of it cloyingly sweet and heady. He reached out to brush your hair from your face just so he could kiss you without abandon. Simeon whined when you pulled away from him. He reached out to you but you pushed him back onto the soft covers of his bed. “No.” you told him firmly and placed a finger onto his lips. He kissed the digit reverently before you slid your finger away, traces of his saliva leaving a glistening trail down his chin.

Your fingers found his nipples and pinched them, hard. He cried out in pain, but there was no question that the pain only turned into pleasure as you ground against his throbbing member. He called for you, his throat parched and hoarse from screaming in pleasure. You only giggled and watched him writhe under you. “No.” you reiterated. “Be a good boy.”

And what could he do but obey you? Listen to your every command as you made his body sing and reach highs he had never achieved before. His cock throbbed, aching to be buried within you, he would do anything for that moment to have you fall into his embrace and make sweet love to you. You were heaven on earth and he was so, so close to salvation.

Your hot mouth wrapped around the tip of his length while your hands kept his legs spread wide. He could feel every one of your taste buds as your tongue swirled around the tip of his cock. He clutched onto the sheets below him, his knuckles turned white from the sheer force of his grip. Simeon keened, begged and pleaded for mercy, yet he knew he would get none. Not while you were in control. No, he knew you would pull everything out of him before he got his release, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He felt you hum while you sucked him off, drawing him closer and closer to his climax. Just when he couldn’t take it anymore, you pulled away and waited for him to stop heaving for air. You had the grace within you to let him breathe for a moment before the tell tale buzz of a vibrator was turned on and pressed firmly against his aching cock.

“Good boy.” You purred and grinned gleefully as his screams echoed in the room. “Cum nice and hard for me now. If you do, I’ll let you fuck me.” Your words were more than temptation, they were pure sin and he didn’t give a damn if he fell, just as long as he was with you. His reward was within reach, and the pleasure building within him reached a breaking point.

As pure euphoria washed over his body, Simeon awoke, panting covered in sweat and dizzy from his dream. His fingers were sore from clinging onto the sheets and there was a distinctive sticky wetness that came from his leaking cock that strained against the cage you had placed onto him. He sighed, tugging at it, hoping that it would give him some relief but it only made the throbbing worse. Simeon took deep breaths, trying to focus on something, anything, to get his mind off of the erotic dream he had. With how often he awoke like this since that night, it was almost routine for him to take a cold shower to wash away the sinful thoughts that invaded his subconscious. Most days it worked, but with how intense his nightly visions were becoming, even that tried and true remedy wasn’t enough.

After seeing you so wantonly taken by Lucifer not once, but twice now, the dreams had started to come in. At first, he didn’t think too much about them, after all it wasn’t the first time he ever had an erotic dream. But, when it involved you and what he now knew you could do for him, his nightly visions became extreme. It was all he could think about. Sometimes, the dreams involved Lucifer as well, goading the two of you on he couldn’t hold back anymore and was ready to fuck you out of your mind. However, even in his dreams, he was denied the ability to take what he wanted as his body always jolted him awake the moment he was just about to enter you.

It had been a full week of this torment. Simeon expected to be used to it. The weight of the cage on his cock reminded him of that fateful night and everything you and Lucifer did to him. Never had he ever been so pampered and spoiled, yet left hungry for so much more. It never failed to get his member straining against its confines.

The memory permeated his regular thoughts and crept up on him whenever he least expected it to. He wasn’t even granted the privilege to rub one out when the thoughts became too much anymore. He was cursed to be stuck with the discomfort of not being able to find release. Somehow, after such a blissful night, his life was an eternal hell of constant arousal and frustration. The inability to find any sort of relief only caused him to stress and be more on edge. He was being driven mad with a need and a desire to defile someone he swore he wouldn’t do.

Something needed to be done.

Simeon hated calling in favors, especially when he just finished paying one back. Still, he didn’t know who else to turn to and his fingers once again dialed the number to his old friend.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon.” Lucifer’s drawl was as smug as ever when he finally picked up after several rings. “How has your week been?”

Simeon only sighed, he was sure Lucifer knew exactly how his week has been. “I need help.” he deadpanned, unable to deal with Lucifer’s pompous tone more than he absolutely had to.

“So soon? Are you writing a new novel? I must say, I was rather enamored with how you wrote the last few chapters of your book. I could tell exactly what parts you took---”

“I’m not writing a new book.” Simeon cut in, huffing in frustration. “I need help… With… Well…”

“Well?”

“The cage you put on me...” He finished his sentence with a fair bit of shame, hating that he had to admit to Lucifer of all people that he was having problems with being too over aroused all the time. “I… I can’t cum with it on.”

“Oh, don’t you know? That’s the point.” Lucifer’s chuckle incited a fair bit of anger within Simeon, but he managed to keep a level head somehow. “Come on now, surely you didn’t think it was just for show...”

“Lucifer, I haven’t been able to sleep properly for a week.” Simeon hissed. “I need to do something about this before I snap and do something I regret.”

Lucifer hummed, completely seemingly nonplussed about his friend’s reaction. “Hmm, well, that would be a shame wouldn’t it.” Simeon could hear Lucifer shrugging to his phone. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know, take it off? You have a spare key, right?”

“Oh no, the one key that exists belongs to your dear friend. Last time I talked to her, she told me the only way she’s going to take that off of you is if you promise to take her.”

There was a fair amount of silence on Simeon’s end. Lucifer wondered if the call had been disconnected and was almost ready to hang up before he heard his friend speak again. “I can’t do that.”

“But it’s what you want, is it not?”

“It’s not about what I want. You know as well as I do that this isn’t something I can do.”

Lucifer sighed, almost pitying how Simeon was fighting his urges. “Is your divinity really that important to you?”

“I… I cannot take what is not meant to be mine.”

“Then, if you cannot take, what can you give?”

Simeon blinked, confused at Lucifer’s cryptic words. He knew Lucifer had something planned, as always; and he had to tread carefully to avoid his fall. Still, Lucifer offered him a sliver of hope, and he would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t piqued. “What are you suggesting, Lucifer?”

“Oh? I thought you’d never ask...”

He was only two steps away from falling. Though Lucifer couldn’t take those steps for him, he could at least offer a little push in the right direction.

You laid your head on counter of the bar, the cool wood gave your burning cheeks a little reprieve. Most of the night had been spend nursing mixed drink after mixed drink. With one final rather stiff order, you finally felt sufficiently drunk to the point where you didn’t worry about Simeon or what he thought about your relationship with him.

You hadn’t seen him in a week. He hadn’t said a damn thing since everything that happened at Lucifer’s penthouse and you were beginning to believe it was all a fever dream. Lucifer had been right about one thing, Simeon wasn’t the kind of person to tell you what he wanted. It was a constant guessing game and you were tired of giving the wrong things to him. No matter what, he remained steadfast in his promise to not fuck you.

You groaned, sipping your drink and looked over at the bartender. “What do I do.” you whined, hoping to get some advice.

“Ah? What’s this? Relationship troubles?” he asked softly while carefully drying a glass. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain your plight.

“How did you know?”

“Well, judging by your demeanor and how often you’ve come in the last week, clearly something is bothering you. When you complain about your job, you ask for beer. This whole week though, you’ve requested mixed drinks, I can only assume that what worries you is a little more ah… personal.”

“Asmo, you are too good at your job.”

He giggled softly, putting the glass in its place and picking up a new one. “Well, I wouldn’t still be working here if I wasn’t good at what I do.”

“This is very true.” You nodded, once again taking another drink. “I don’t know what to do… I really like this guy, but I can’t tell if he’s invested in me the same way I am for with him.”

“Well, now that really is quite worrisome, isn’t it?” Asmo stopped you from answering while he fulfilled an order. He chatted merrily with the customer but he did keep an eye on you to make sure you weren’t too far gone. After all, you had offered him a rather juicy tidbit, he was rather invested now in your story. He wandered back to where you sat at the bar and returned to cleaning glasses now that the patron had their drink. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Venting your frustrations out to someone who was basically a stranger was oddly cathartic. You started from the beginning, keeping some details vague just to protect Simeon’s public reputation. Even if your story was for Asmo, you never knew who could be eavesdropping. Your tale was interrupted a few times by customers, but luckily it was getting late and most of them were just getting one last drink in before heading home for the night. The interruptions became less frequent and you were able to eventually finish your story along with your drink.

“So yeah… I came up with the idea of putting him in a chastity belt, and now he hasn’t talked to me for like a week and a half.” You pouted and slouched over the bar. “Do you think I went too far?”

Asmo hummed, wiping down his workspace and mulled over your story. It was just as juicy as he thought it would be. Some of the details you mentioned had him getting rather excited, and he was glad for the tall counter hiding his growing arousal. “Well, all things considered, I think you’ve given him as many hints as possible. If he can’t tell what you want at this point, then that’s on him.”

“But how can I tell if that’s what he wants? He won’t tell me anything.”

“Ah, you see, you’re giving him yet another chance.” Asmo chided. He took your empty glass from you and slid over a new drink. “On the house.” He declared with a bit of a wink. “You’ve given me a good story to listen to, it’s only fair that I compensate you properly for it.”

“Thank you...” You looked at the concoction and took a sip. A myriad of flavors and sensations flooded your tongue and you took a moment to savor his creation. The warm burn of alcohol rested at your chest and you mulled over the bartender’s cryptic words. “So, are you saying I should stop giving him chances? What should I do?”

“I’m saying maybe, you should take a chance this time around instead.” He smiled sweetly at you and continued to calmly clean his space.

“Huh…” you mused. His words still confused you, but they did get your mind thinking about how else to perhaps coax him to tell you what he truly wanted.

As if on cue, your phone lit up and a message appeared. You had to rub your eyes and make sure you weren’t dreaming; the alcohol running through your system sure made things seem rather surreal from time to time. When you were sure that the message hadn’t disappeared, you picked your phone up to read what the contents were.

[SMS: cAN YOU cOME OVER NEXT wEEK??? i NEED TO tALK TO YOU??? ]

Seeing Simeon had taken the initiative to finally text you sent an exciting thrill through you. You had seriously thought about drunkenly texting him and demanding answers, but this was much better than your poorly thought out plan. His inability to text was still as bad as ever and you giggled at how silly the serious message seemed with the mismatched capitalization.

“Hm? Now that’s a lovely sound I didn’t expect to hear. Did something good happen?” Asmo leaned over the counter when he noticed the change in your demeanor. It was as if the heavens had heard your thoughts and prayers, hoping he would contact you first. After having poured your heart out to the bartender, there was no way you weren’t going to listen to his advice.

This was your chance and you were going to take it.

“Yeah. He wants to meet up next week. I guess it’s time to take your advice to heart, huh.”

“Indeed. I hope it works out for you.”

“Oh, I have a feeling it will.”

It didn’t feel like the week could go by fast enough. You finally had a reason to visit Simeon again. It was odd how quickly you missed him when you didn’t have a purpose to go to his place. Before, you could excuse your weekly visits as work. Now that his book was complete, you couldn’t find an excuse to see him unless he invited you over. To say you were excited to see his text was an understatement. You had hastily written a reply in your drunken state. The typos made you cringe when you looked at it the next day, but your meeting with him was still confirmed.

Your mind was mostly preoccupied with your visit. The work of your new clients piled up as you spent hours on end staring into space and imagining what you could do to him next. You had pushed him so far the last time you were with Lucifer, you had been sure he would be ready to break and just ask to take you, but that moment never happened.

You might have replayed the events of that night over and over again, trying to figure out where you went wrong. Eventually, you just became frustrated about things you couldn’t change and focused on anything but your upcoming meeting with Simeon. Work was a great distraction and you found you were able to at least throw yourself into that until your appointed day came.

There was no reason to be nervous. You had been to his home multiple times, and with the things that had happened within those walls, you should have been completely shameless. You had an idea of what to propose to Simeon, should he be willing. It was a risk, but one that you were willing to take. It had taken a while for you to come to terms with the fact that there would come a time where you needed to just do things yourself if they were at a standstill.

Regardless of what convictions you had, your resolve wavered when you saw Lucifer open the door. For a moment a bit of anger flared within you. You despised how you were relying so much on this mysterious man to push your relationship with Simeon forward. Though you were grateful for everything he had done for the book as well as the amazing night he orchestrated as a celebration, you couldn’t help but feel a little bitter when you saw him greet you yet again. Simeon hadn’t mentioned Lucifer being present in his text to you and seeing the man threw your confidence off kilter, to say the least.

“Why the long face? Am I poorly dressed?” He raised an amused brow at your involuntary pout.

“I uh… I just didn’t expect you here is all.” You shrugged, trying to brush off the bitterness you felt and walked passed him to get inside. “I wasn’t aware that Simeon invited you as well.”

Lucifer chuckled, already entertained by the energy in the room already. “Well, he asked me for a favor, and it’s very hard for me to resist helping him.”

“Great. That’s lovely.” You deadpanned, taking off your shoes and walking into the common room. You blinked in confusion when you didn’t see Simeon sitting at his usual spot on the couch. “Simeon?” you called out, wondering where he could have gone.

“He’s not over there.” Lucifer leaned against a wall, waiting for you to get your bearings before he finally guided you in the right direction. “Come, follow me.”

He lead you up the stairs and down a hallway to a room you had never been allowed to be in before. Lucifer opened the door and ushered you into the dimly lit room. You let your eyes adjust to the darkness before a rustling noise on the bed in the corner of the room caught your attention. You could hardly believe your eyes at the vision before you.

“He’s lovely no matter what he wears, isn’t he?” Lucifer whispered into your ear, coming into the room behind you and quietly closing the door.

“Y...yeah...”

Simeon squirmed. He disliked having so much attention aimed his way, especially if that attention was while he was dressed so scantily. Lucifer had once again outdone himself in setting up the scene. The sheer lacy lingerie clung to him like a second skin. The thigh high stockings held up by an elaborate garter belt only accentuated his assets. The sheer chiffon thong he wore hid nothing from your sight and you had a front row seat to his cock straining against the cage you put on him weeks ago. When he shifted, you noticed a glittering plug fit snugly into his ass. He was breathtaking in his get up and you could feel your cheeks burning from witnessing such a beautifully debauched scene.

“You see, he’s been excited to show you this little getup this all week long. But he still needed a little help getting the last few details right.” Lucifer explained before he sauntered across the room and put the final touches onto the ensemble.

Simeon shifted to get on his knees if only to make it easier for Lucifer to place the bejeweled leather collar on his neck. The glittering lead dangled in front of him tantalizingly once the collar was securely on. He looked over at you expectantly, his eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Do… do you like it?”

You nodded dumbly, stepping forward when Lucifer wordlessly coaxed you forward and offered the lead to the collar. It was surprisingly heavy, looking down, you noticed that it sparkled in the dim light due to all the crystals embedded in it. Your eyes followed the lead until you locked gazes with Simeon. He had the most beautiful pout on his face, his eyes wide and his lower lip stuck out, begging for you to kiss it.

You gave the lead an experimental little tug. As soon as he felt it, Simeon obediently got up and trotted over to where you stood. The immense amount of control you had over him was absolutely mind blowing. “I’ve been wanting… to do something like this for a while now.” he admitted bashfully and turned his face to the side unable to keep eye contact any longer.

Taking his chin gently in your free hand, you shifted his gaze back to you. Hearing he wanted something like this to happen only made you more excited. Hopefully it meant that he was willing to open up a little more. It almost made up for the anger you felt at Lucifer’s presence. Though it was upsetting that you couldn’t coax his desires out of him on your own, you were glad he had reached this point at least. “Tell me what else you want out of this.” You commanded, your thumb gently brushed against his cheek as if it could draw the answer out of his lips.

“I want...” He paused, lowering his gaze but your grip on his chin remained firm and he was looking at you once more with a little jerk of your hand. “I want…” Simeon couldn’t seem to finish his sentence and he stuttered once again.

“I can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me.” You chided softly, tightening your grip on the lead and pulling him down until he was on his knees. Your hand on his chin moved to his hair, gently petting his soft locks before grabbing a fistful and making him wince a bit. “You’ll be a good boy and tell me, right?” You gave the lead a forceful tug, causing his neck to strain and he let out a stuttering breath.

“Y-yes… I’ll be good.”

Your grip loosened enough to give him some reprieve. “And what is it that my precious angel wants?”

“I want you to… I want… Iwantyoutofuckmeplease.” His request came out in a rushed, run-on whisper. Once you pieced together what he said, your cheeks warmed at his candidness. You cleared your throat, trying to reassert the dominance you had acquired. From the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer had made himself at home on Simeon’s bed. He lounged against the headboard, ready to step in if you needed him. For the time being, he was happy to take a back seat to the depravity Simeon was about to subject himself to.

“Is that what you want...” You mused, pretending to be calm, though your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. Truth be told, you had considered doing something like this after Asmo’s advice, but you never thought Simeon would offer such a thing to you. Well, might as well take what’s given…

You gently pat his head and you swore he let out a quiet coo of content at the affection, though you couldn’t be sure. Lucifer watching everything was distracting you from Simeon’s request. Admitting that you would have never gotten to this point without Lucifer’s help frustrated you and it took away from the potential closeness of the moment if it had only been you and Simeon.

As if he could sense your unease, Simeon spoke up. “I asked him to be here… I trust him as much as I trust you.” He leaned his head into your hand, encouraging you to keep petting him. “Please, use him as you wish.”

You turned to Lucifer and raised a brow, surprised that the CEO of Akuzon would ever agree to be submissive to anyone. The man on the bed only shrugged in reply. “He asked for a favor, how could I say no. Have you seen the way he pouts? But it is as he says, I am at your command tonight.”

The shift in power had your head spinning. Both the men in the room were at your beck and call for the night. The final goal being fucking Simeon until he couldn’t see straight. You pulled Simeon back on his feet and ran your hand down his abdomen to tease the cage that kept his cock bound. He whimpered, bit his lower lip and heaved a heavy sigh. He hoped you would be merciful if he pouted and showed you how needy he was; but it looked like you had no intentions of releasing his cock from its confines anytime soon. Then again, he didn’t think he deserve that sort of sympathy from you, not after what he put you through.

“Well, I suppose I should get to work then, shouldn’t I?” you purred. Having so much authority made you feel drunk and made your mind race all the ways you could take the beautiful man before you. You pulled him back up to his feet and pulled him into a quick kiss, careful to only give him a hint of the passion and love you had for him. “I think I have too many clothes on for what you want, so why don’t you be a good little angel and help me out of them?”

Simeon was more than eager to comply. His fingers quickly flying to your blouse and worked the buttons off. His eyes burned with the same concentration he had whenever he was in the middle of writing an intense scene. He moved like a man on a mission and you were left in nothing but your undergarments quite quickly. “Good boy.” You praised, giving him another brief kiss and lead him back to the bed. “Now, are you sure about this? I don’t want to hurt you if it’s not what you want.”

He nodded vigorously. “I want this… more than anything. I want to give you everything that I have… please take me.”

Your heart fluttered at his admission and your dominance faltered for a moment. “Well, if that’s what you want, how could I ever deny you.” you purred once you had a moment to regain your composure. You looked over at Lucifer who was very clearly in on Simeon’s plan. “Something tells me that know what to do next.”

“I thought you’d never call on me.” He got up from his place on the bed and walked over to a drawer. Once he retrieved what he needed, he beckoned you over and you complied after putting the lead to Simeon’s collar down.

From there, Lucifer helped you get fitted with the harness and made sure everything was on securely for you. He worked methodically, fully invested in making sure you were outfitted properly. When he was done, you needed a moment to get accustomed to the rather sizable strap-on you now sported. The heavy weight of the phallic object felt foreign to you and you half wondered how either of the men in the room dealt with something like this on a daily basis.

The straps of the harness hugged your thighs and your hips, keeping everything in its place so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything slipping when you properly got things going. Idly, you reached down and stroked the silicone dildo hanging between your legs which elicited an amused chuckle from Lucifer. “Who knew my cock would look just as good on you as it does in you.”

You sputtered; honestly, you didn’t know why you were even surprised. Of course he would have done something like this. Looking over to Simeon, you stalled for another moment, still hesitant on whether or not this was something he wanted. But, when he called for you with a needy little whine, you were reassured that this was exactly what he wanted.

“You. Strip. In case I need you later.” You commanded to Lucifer before walking towards Simeon who was waiting so patiently for you.

Giving something for Lucifer to do meant you could focus solely on Simeon. “Come on, hands and knees now, love.” you urged, tugging on the tether to bring Simeon into the proper position. As if he could read your mind, Lucifer tossed you the bottle of lube and you fumbled to catch it.

Now that what he fantasized about was actually happening Simeon was more than eager to show you just how needy he was. His ass swayed gently from side to side as you floundered around with the bottle. It was the first time in weeks he had been touched by another person and everything you teased him with only added to his arousal. Precum oozed out of the tip of the cage, dribbling onto the sheets below. You hoped by the end of the night there would be a veritable puddle of his essence on the bed.

The thong he wore really wasn’t holding anything up. It was a pretty, lacy thing, but utterly useless in practicality. It was easy to just undo the ties that held it up at his sides and toss the thing across the room. Now that you had better access to him, you assessed the glittering plug in his ass. “Did someone spend all week getting ready for this?” you crooned softly, tugging at it gently and drawing out a loud whine from as his tight hole was stimulated.

“Y-yes… I want… I want….” He whimpered, falling to his elbows. He had dreamed about this moment for days on end, now that he was experiencing it, his mind was reeling from all the sensations.

“So greedy.” you chided, tugging at the plug harder and watched as his hole spread and stretch to make room for the toy you were slowly extracting from him.

Lucifer returned to the other side of the bed, fully nude and half hard. He laid back, not even a little bit shameful about how much he was enjoying the scene before him. His friend was so close to falling and accepting his fate, yet he was struggling with every fiber of being. It truly was endearing just how hard Simeon was trying to cling to his divinity all the while being so obscene. The human realm’s temptations were truly marvelous.

The plug released from his ass in a satisfying ‘pop’ and Simeon sighed in content, knowing what was to come soon. You marveled at the impressive girth of the plug before also tossing it to the side. It had served its use as preparation for the main event of the night.

You poured a generous amount of lube down his ass crack, ensuring that he was well covered with the slick substance before you entered him. Just as an extra precaution, you gingerly fingered his hole, slipping you fingers into him to test just how ready he was. He let out a long whine that turned into a moan as your fingers explored him. “Please… don’t tease me...”

“Aww, she’s just making sure you don’t get hurt.” Lucifer reassured, stroking his friend’s hair. He had taken a hold of the leash, keeping Simeon’s head up so he could see every change of his friend’s expression all the while you drove him mad with just your fingers.

“I won’t, I’ve prepared all week for--- ahhhh” His indignant quip was quickly silenced as you pressed the well lubed head of the dildo into him. No amount of preparation could have made him ready for the feeling of being stretched and filled by something so large.

You took it slow, still unsure of whether or not you were hurting him. While it was mesmerizing to see the dildo slowly disappear inch by inch into Simeon, you still worried that it could be too much. You could see Simeon clawing at the sheets below him as he accepted every inch of the phallic toy inside of him. It was so much more than a plug. It filled him in a way he never thought was possible and he nearly forgot to breathe if it weren’t for Lucifer quietly reminding him to relax and take a breath from time to time.

It took a small eternity, but you eventually fit the whole toy inside of him. When you finally bottomed out, he heaved an earth shattering sigh and his shoulders visibly slouched for a moment before Lucifer once again brought his head upright. “Good boy.” You praised, patting his ass cheek lovingly before placing your hands firmly on his hips to keep him in place. He visibly shivered as your hips flexed and gave him an experimental thrust. “You took that so well.”

Simeon only whimpered underneath you, pressing his ass back towards you, urging you to continue. You smirked, unable to get over just how much power you had over him. To know you were drawing these sorts of sounds and reactions from him only added to the high you were experiencing and served to fuel your building arousal. As soon as you started a steady pace, you were quickly entranced at how readily his body was accepting the toy.

It felt amazing to dedicate his body to you. To give everything he had to the pleasure you could draw out of him. The moment you settled on a rhythmic thrusting pattern, he saw you as he knew you owned him as his master, his lover and his god all at once. There was no greater bliss than feeling the toy slide in and out of him, undoing him in spades as it rubbed against his prostate and made him sing.

Simeon keened and wailed, meeting every one of your thrusts by pushing his ass back against the toy. The cum dripping out from the tip of the cage soon flowed freely. He was sure he would have cum by now, but due to the restraints, he didn’t know where his release began or ended. You became bolder with your strokes, fucking him harder with longer, deeper thrusts, making his moans fill the room and bounced off the walls.

“Oh my… so loud...” You mused before slamming your hips into him and making him properly scream. “Lucifer, be a dear and help me gag him, please. It would be a shame if the neighbors heard how dreadfully lewd he’s being.”

Lucifer sat up straight, a smirk spread on his face when he was at last being used for the explicit purpose to further Simeon’s pleasure. He got to his knees and used the lead to bring Simeon’s face to the same level as his cock. “With pleasure.” He said, stroking Simeon’s hair. “Come now, you know what to do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

Simeon was beyond feeling shame. The lust coursing through his veins overran any sense of embarrassment he might have felt. His mouth eagerly opened to accept Lucifer’s cock, lapping at the tip before wrapping his lips around it.

Lucifer groaned, his long lashes fluttering from finally getting a little bit of stimulation. The slack on the lead disappeared as he pulled on the collar harshly. The rough motion allowed his cock to slip all the way to the back of Simeon’s throat, effectively gagging him as you had requested. Hearing his newly muffled moans sounded like music to your ears.

Sensing that he was struggling to take so much all at once, you stopped what you were doing for Lucifer to get comfortable fucking Simeon’s mouth. Once you noticed his body relax and no longer tremble from being so overwhelmed, you went right back to fucking him until he was too exhausted to take anymore.

You got your wish. By the time he couldn’t take anymore, there was a sizable pool of his cum on the sheets and yet his cock still leaked his essence. It looked painful straining against the cage, yet you looked at your handiwork with a sense of pride. Despite all the ecstasy he had felt, he still wasn’t allowed a true climax. Until he said he wanted to put his dick in your cunt, you wouldn’t give him the privilege of release. Glancing over at his face, you saw a mixture of Lucifer’s cum and drool dribbling down Simeon’s chin. The sloppy mess on his face glistened in the dim light of the room. You couldn’t deny, even in this defiled and debauched state, he was beautiful.

You were careful when you finally pulled the strap-on out of his ass, making sure to take your time and memorized every muffled whimper and moan that came from his occupied lips. Lucifer only extracted his cock from Simeon’s mouth when you gave him the permission to do so with a curt nod. He lovingly stroked his friend’s hair, smiling softly. He knew just how close Simeon was to falling, he could feel it. It would only take one last gentle push in the right direction.

Simeon gasped for air, remembering to roll over and avoid the mess he made. He sprawled on the sheets, staring at the ceiling and reeling in the sensations he just experienced. His whole body was sore, it felt like he had gone through a multitudes of highs with no end. He never reached the intense peak of a true climax, but with how much cum was on the sheets, he at least felt some sort of release from what you and Lucifer did. His asshole, though thoroughly abused by the extended fuck session still craved for more.

Even though he had given it all to you, it still didn’t feel like it was enough to satiate his needs.

He had thought he would be free from his desires once he gave everything he had to you; but there was still a hollow ache of hunger that wasn’t satisfied.

“You did so well. That was amazing.” you purred, crawling over to where Simeon laid and kissing him deeply. Your tongue swiped across his swollen lips tasting him and traces of Lucifer before delving into the caverns of his mouth to get more. Your hand felt around for the lead to his collar and tugged slightly on it once you found it. His reacted immediately, intensifying the kiss and tilting his head to give you a better angle. Exhausted as he was, he was still willing to give you what you wanted. “What an obedient angel I have...” You breathed once the kiss was finally broken. “My precious angel behaves so well.”

He stood at the point of no return. He was so close to crossing the line and all he needed was a little push.

“Ah, an angel he might be, you’re still unsatisfied, aren’t you?” Lucifer commented, his voice syrupy sweet as he slipped behind you and took both of your breasts in his hands. You gasped in surprise, having nearly forgotten he was even there while you focused on taking care of Simeon. While you were still gathering your composure, Lucifer swiftly undid the straps to the harness. In no time at all, it fell to the bed with a dull ‘thud’ before he unceremoniously shoved his fingers into your sopping wet heat.

Simeon’s eyes widened, barely believing what he was seeing. He had been so enraptured by his own pleasure he had forgotten about your own. The shame of not pleasing you washed over him and whatever bliss he felt was dashed away as he watched you writhe under Lucifer’s grasp. With how drained his body was, he didn’t have the strength to do anything but hopelessly watch as once again Lucifer was the one who could draw out true pleasure from you.

He regretted asking for help. He regretted trusting Lucifer. He regretted everything as he was forced to watch you moan and whimper for someone that wasn’t him. Even if you owned him and everything that he was, that didn’t mean he had a place in your heart.

Hot tears pricked his eyes as he was witnessed Lucifer’s cock disappear over and over again into your pussy. Your pleasured moans would be branded into his memory. The bliss that was plastered all over your face was something he could never draw out of you. He could feel what trust he had in Lucifer crack and break with every thrust you eagerly accepted. The way you clung desperately to Lucifer as he railed you and the way your moans sounded was so much more raw than anything he could ever elicit from you. As he watched you cry out for a man not him, he felt a burning ember of rage grow within him. He would never be enough, no matter how much he gave.

His cock was prisoner to your whims and your rules. The one tenet he refused to break was what barred him from reaching paradise. The divine celestials seemed droll compared to the temptations you provided him every time he fell into bed with you.

No, no. Stop. She’s mine. She’s MINE. Stop. Please stop.

The hold you had on his lead fell when you came around Lucifer’s cock. He never ceased to bring you to a violent orgasm with how he played your body like an instrument. You couldn’t stay angry with him when he so easily turned you into a moaning mess with little to no effort. For as much as you craved Simeon, he offered an allure that was irresistible. Like a devil seducing you away from your goal, he shook your conviction and made you doubt if Simeon could ever be this good.

“Oh, fuck… Lucifer.” you groaned, shuddering as your body was overtaken by your orgasm. You lifelessly fell forward, your whole body limp and used after such a good fuck. Lucifer wasn’t too far behind and with a few more frantic thrusts, emptied himself within you. The envy Simeon felt when he saw cum that wasn’t his own flood your pussy was absolutely indescribable. How unfair was it for you to own every bit of him, yet he could not stake his claim on you.

The rage within him boiled under his skin and he weakly reached out for you to cradle your listless body while you rode out your high. He glared at Lucifer who only smirked in return. Simeon protectively curled himself around you, holding you close. You let out a whine of protest when you felt your leg brush against the puddle of cold cum on the sheets, but quickly settled into his embrace. He wouldn’t let the devil take you away, no matter how much he tempted you. No, he would do everything to guard you from that sin. Feeling you nest comfortably in his arms, he felt the anger within him subside, if only for a little bit.

Lucifer knew how to read the room and took the hint that he wasn’t wanted, nor needed anymore. As far as he was concerned, his goal had been accomplished. He looked forward to the result of his goading in the upcoming days. All he had to do now was make a graceful exit. Luckily, being the busy man that he was, it was easy to pretend that he received an urgent text from his assistant as an excuse to leave the two of you alone. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.” he said before taking his leave.

You waited until you heard the front door close before you let your body fully relax into Simeon’s arms. “So, was that what you wanted?”

“Yes, all that and more.” he lied softly, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck before the two of you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He was a step away from the edge and a this point, he was more than ready to take the fall.

#Obey me! Simeon #Obey me! Lucifer #Obey Me! Fanfic #Lucifer x Reader #Simeon x Reader #Lucifer x Simeon x Reader #my writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash

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