#art is subjective as hell! so might as well keep at it and accept it wont be everyone's thing

[destielshippingnews]

Edvard's Supernatural Guide 2x06 No Exit

Contains discussion of sexual assault

Spoilers for The Winchesters 1x06 Art of Dying

This episode continues what I see as a run of mostly weak-to-average episodes starting with 2x05 Simon Said and lasting until roughly 2x15 Tall Tales. Having the plot spread so thin is frustrating: Buffy had the same number of episodes per series and had plenty of monster-of-the-week episodes, but they usually linked into the overall plot and story in some way or other, or were relevant to the characters. For this to be less present in Supernatural is to the show’s detriment and makes it seem undeveloped.

I do not mean to fling poo at the actors’ livelihood and work as this is the responsibility of the writers, producers, and executives. As I have said before, I do not watch the show for the plot, so this is not such a big concern for me. The reason I do not watch it for the plot, though, is because there is so little of it to watch. If I were not so stuck on doing certain things properly and in the correct order, I would have half a mind to skip quite a few of the next few episodes and jump right to 2x15 Tall Tales.

If it were not for Jensen, I would not have stuck with Dawson’s Creek, Smallville, or Dark Angel for half as long as I did, and I certainly would not have bothered sitting through the hot mess that is The Boys. The first half of Supernatural series two is not so dull that I would quit without him, but I can see why it was faced with cancellation. While some episodes in the next ten take steps to advance the plot, 2x10 Hunted is the last one to do so until 2x21 All Hell Breaks Loose Part I. Of course viewers who watch it for the plot would have got tired and bored. That might have been all well and good in the early to mid nineties with The X-Files, but people in 2006 clearly wanted more in their stories. Add to that the fact that the new characters such as Bobby and the Harvelles are almost entirely in absentia, and things can get slow and tired. I could watch dozens of hours of Dean eating a sandwich and be perfectly content, but normies clearly require more stimulation.

Preamble aside, in my analysis of 2x05 Simon Said, I forgot to mention the ending. Against Dean’s better judgement, Sam revealed to Ellen that he has psychic powers. She accepted it and it seemed like she would be taking on a more prominent role in the plot of series two, working with the brothers to fight against whatever it is Azazel wants to do with the psychic children. Other than being annoyed with Sam once again not being in his brother’s corner and letting him take a ‘telling off’ from Ellen after trying to keep Sam safe, and me having flashbacks to Missouri, this scene is disappointing because nothing comes of it. She barely appears after this.

After referring to Missouri Moseley, some readers who read my analysis of 1x09 Home might be under the impression I dislike Ellen, but they would be mistaken. She got my back up talking to Dean like a naughty schoolboy because every ‘parental’ figure in this show does that to Dean whilst fawning over Sam. Missouri did it, Bobby did it, John did it, Ellen almost did it.

I actually like Ellen. Other than the fact that it is a wonderful change to have a middle-aged women on a show like this who is not ‘just’ a mum, she was a relatable, likeable, believable character who was tough and competent but not written as a male character played by a woman. In spite of Samantha Ferris’s douchey behaviour in early 2021 relating to Dean and Cas’s wedding at the Roadhouse, I think it is a serious shame she was not given more to do on the show. Her apparent marriage to Bobby in the alternate universe in 6x17 My Heart Will Go On suggests a lot of stories we could have seen, but alas, shall not be told.

While on the subject, I understand Ellen’s anger in the car at the end, but the relationship between her, Dean, and Sam had not been sufficiently established at that point. She was acting like Dean and Sam’s angry mum, but that needed to be earnt. As things were, her turning off Dean’s music felt much more like a rude passenger being petulant than disciplinarian mother, especially considering it was Dean’s car, not hers.

What that scene was trying to show was that Ellen was very angry at Dean and Sam for lying to her, and Dean and Sam were uncomfortable and did not want to argue with or upset her further. Or Dean was, at least. Sam and Jo seemed significantly less so in the back with their smirks. Perhaps it says something about me, but my thought during that scene was ‘Who dis bish and why she turning off the music in somebody else’s car?’

And in case you were wondering, I do still think Missouri Moseley is a mega-bitch. Die mad about it.

And whilst on the subject of Samantha Ferris, it would be remiss of me not to point out that this is her and Jensen’s second time on a show together: she appeared as Lionel Luthor’s lawyer in Smallville 4x10 Scare in 2004. The same episode also featured Jensen’s character Jason falling from a balcony and hitting his head hard enough to knock him unconscious. And what have we learnt so far? ‘A blow to the head hard enough to cause unconsciousness is hard enough to kill or cause serious brain damage.’

That’s it! That explains the reason for the huge change in Jason’s character halfway through series 4. The only reason he seemed to be on his Jocasta of a mother’s side was because of the brain damage he sustained in 4x10 Scare. Anyway, in spite of his serious concussion, he is alive and well in 2022 enjoying lots and lots of coitus with his husband Lex Luthor somewhere in Switzerland. Eat your heart out, Lana Lang.

By the way, the fact parental figures pick on Dean and not Sam is another bit of evidence in favour of Dean being autistic. No matter how good we are at masking, something about us marks us out and makes us targets.

Having discussed one Harvelle, it is time to discuss the other, and this rewatch has not left me liking Jo very much at all. She seems like she was written by somebody trying to create a strong, young, confident female character, but ended up writing an immature, myopic, cocky little sister. That is no criticism of Alona Tal, just the material she was given.

I made it clear in my analysis of 2x02 Everybody Loves a Clown that I thought Jo got off to a bad start, and unfortunately things have not gone any better for her since. A friend commented that Jo seems as though she was written to be a bit younger than she is portrayed. She looks like she is in her early twenties (working in a bar in America means she is at least 21, if I have understood correctly), but her dialogue often sounds like it was intended for somebody a few years younger. The same friend also commented that she gets the sense Jo and Dean were supposed to have a young girl/older man relationship, perhaps as one of the writers’ fantasies of copulating with a young virgin.

Whatever the case may be, Jo certainly sounds very young in her argument with Ellen at the beginning of the episode. Even having an argument like that with her mother implies she is far from being an independent adult because if she were, she would have simply left with or without her mother’s approval. Dragging Dean and Sam into the argument to support her was also a childish move, though understandable.

Where her inexperience really comes out, though, is in her behaviour with Dean and Sam on the hunt. Before giving my own thoughts, let me take an extract from Paula R. Stiles’s analysis of this episode:

‘So, what made me nearly give the show up after just one episode? Two words: “Jo Harvelle”.

I needed to give you this introduction so that you could understand the mindset I had going into [the first episode of the show I watched], especially since I’m sure some twit, somewhere, will insist it was because I had a crush on Jensen Ackles and was jealous of the female guest star. I loved (and still love) horror, but I had zero investment in the show at that point. I didn’t know who the regular characters were. In fact, the episode left me with the impression that Jo was either a regular or about to become one (Lord knows she was in enough of it)

 I’ve always actively loathed that annoying, sexist cliche that goes back at least to the 1950s in Hollywood – The Useless Tomboy: Dumb Bitch Variation, which is even more irritating for fanboys often using as an example of female fans being “misogynist” toward our own gender whenever we (rightly) point out that we don’t like being portrayed as useless, self-centred, dumb bitches (We “chicks” are funny that way, just as guys don’t like being portrayed as dumb slobs, or abusive dirtbags). And Lord, was Jo one in spades. She was pushy, whiny, helpless, self-righteous, hypocritical, immature, stupid, and more than a tiny bit vindictive when the Big Reveal about her daddy and the brothers’ daddy came round.

She also had all of the makings of a recurring character who might well stick around and even supplant the two brother protagonists. I had put up with her for the whole episode in order to enjoy the other aspects, but when both she and her mother (though I later came to like Ellen a lot, “No Exit” wasn’t her finest hour, either) went off on Dean in the coda, for something of which he and Sam were completely innocent, I threw in the towel. And keep in mind that I had known both Jo and Dean for less than forty minutes at that point. Plus commercials. So, I was judging both of them entirely on first impressions and, therefore, their actions. As I’ve said in the review for that episode, it wasn’t until I tried again with “Houses of the Holy“, six episodes later, and got all perky about the prospect of Dean and angels (with no Jo Harvelle in sight), that I finally decided I needed to watch more of Supernatural.

That’s how lousy a character Jo was in season two.

I am afraid I must concur. Sorry to any Jo fans reading this, but she had been skating on thin ice since smiling smugly at Dean after punching him in the face in 2x02. Acting as if she was coördinating the operation, trying to be authoritative in ‘asking’ Dean to sit down, and insisting Dean’s ‘chauvinistic crap’ was the only reason he would object to her presence was the ice cracking and Jo plummeting into the water.

Dean calling her out for this was perfection: ‘Sweetheart, this ain’t gender studies. Women can do the job just fine. Amateurs can’t. You got no experience.’ This is exactly why there was no chemistry or romance between Dean and Jo: he saw her for the inexperienced child she was. Their entire interaction when she turns up at the hotel is dripping with Dean’s irritation and disdain for her puerility. She has put herself in danger, burdened the brothers with keeping her safe, and made their job harder to boot. She is an irresponsible amateur and not the equal of Dean or even Sam in hunting.

She reminds me a little of Sam in her arrogance and indignant bristling at Dean challenging her. Her attempts to imply he is the problem, not her, with her ‘untwist your boxers’ after he pulls her up for lying to her mum and running away was twisted, and the image of a chihuahua yapping at a German Shepherd came to mind again, only this time the chihuahua is a bichon frisé.

The main difference between her bad behaviour and Sam’s behaviour is that the show does not portray Jo as correct or justified, but rather allows Dean to call her out every time, and ends with her getting kidnapped, almost dying, but ending up getting saved by Dean and Sam.

To her credit, she did show bravery in letting herself be bait for Holmes, but any positivity her slight character growth might have won from me was dashed utterly beyond repair with her taking her anger out on Dean for John’s role in getting Will Harvelle (Jo’s father and Ellen’s husband) killed. Note once again it is Dean who is the brunt of somebody’s anger, not Sam, nor is it Sam who is held responsible for his father’s actions. Ellen does not even direct any of her anger for the events of the episode at Sam (at least not that the viewer is shown): Sam could have called up Ellen and told her Jo was with them, but chose not to. If Dean endangered Jo’s life and lied to Ellen, then so too did Sam, but not a single angry word is aimed at Sam.

Either Dean is regarded by everybody involved as the one in charge and therefore the one bearing liability, or for some reason the writer did not want to show Sam in a bad light. Given the fact it is always Dean who is put in embarrassing, degrading situations, and who is supposedly the ‘perverted, gross deviant’, I expect the truth is actually a mix of both.

Take this line of dialogue from 13x19 Funeralia where a reaper named Jessica has been spying on Dean and Sam:

Jessica: I’m especially fond of Sam’s impressive… extensive array of hair products. [looks at Dean] Not to mention, the three day old bacon cheeseburger in your room, or the VHS tape hidden under your bed labeled "Sweet Princess Asuka Meets the Tentacles of Ple--

Sam is allowed to keep his privacy and dignity, but Dean is not. ...even though Sam is the one who ‘conveniently’ does not lock the door while watching porn so that Dean can walk in and almost catch him.

Winc*sties, no. Bad Winc*sties.

Sam also clearly has a serial killer fetish, but he is allowed to keep that to himself rather than having it dragged out in front of his friends in an attempt to spite and humiliate him. (Sam’s a douche for spitefully telling Jody Dean likes hentai. Once again, Sam escalated a situation into an attack against his brother. But that can wait for another time).

Whatever the case, Ellen throws Dean’s apology (for Jo’s behaviour) right back in his face, and Jo tells him to leave after finding out John got her dad killed. They drove Dean and Sam (especially Dean) away, and they are never really on terms with each other again. They will eventually be colleagues for a handful of episodes, but nothing more.

Mention of Dean naturally leads the discussion to him. Sharp-eyed observers might have noticed a subtle suggestion in 2x05 Simon Said to Dean having been either date-raped or almost date-raped. He likened being under the effects of Andy’s mind-control to being roofied. Of course this does not mean Dean knows first-hand what it is like, but given all the evidence (including Jensen’s own speculation) to support the idea Dean might have been engaged in sex work at some point (not necessarily willingly, and not necessarily as an adult), one does certainly wonder.

An episode somewhere has Dean describe an escapade he went on as a child. He managed to slip away from John for a while and ended up in a bar, where people apparently started buying him drinks and getting him drunk. I almost never go to bars, rarely drink alcohol, and men/boys are not generally raised to be constantly on the look out for such things, so it took somebody pointing out to me that the issue here was not only plying a minor with alcohol in a bar, but a suggestion of rendering poco!Dean defenceless and vulnerable to predation.

Rather than retyping everything, I will direct you to my essay on John’s abuse of Dean, and my analysis of 1x20 Dead Man’s Blood for specifics on Dean showing signs of being sexually abused. One thing more which arose in this episode was when Dean and Jo investigated the block of flats together, and they happened upon a certain spot. In addition to the EMF readers going off, a smell hangs on the air which Dean pinpoints as chloroform. Why does Dean know what chloroform smells like? This is all circumstantial and proves nothing, but a picture came together a long time ago: now the show’s just adding a few details. Dean is the victim of sexual assault.

Contrary to popular conceptions, men and boys are not immune to sexual assault. Statistics regarding male victimisation of sexual assault and violence show almost parity with female rates of victimisation when sexual assault includes the category ‘forced to penetrate’. Men being raped is endemic in prisons, but it is not just men raping men: women do it, too.

If you care to take a look for yourself, please peruse these links. I would like to draw your attention specifically to pages 42 and 43 of the Center for Disease Control's study which indicates approximately 11 million US women compared to 9 million US men are victims of sexual violence and assault over their entire lifetime.

If Dean were Diana and she said things like Dean says, would anybody hesitate to conclude she is a victim of sexual assault? Why should it be any different because Dean has a penis?

This show’s relationship to sexual violence is an issue, especially regarding male victims, but that discussion can wait until 2x15 Tall Tales where Gabriel rapes a male student by proxy and we are supposed to laugh because a) he is a male victim and b) he ‘deserved it’.

Back to the current episode, the first thing which comes to mind when Dean thinks of John (at least that he is willing to discuss) is John teaching him to shoot a gun when he was 6 or 7. He bullseyed every target, but scoffs at Jo’s suggestion that John must have been proud of him. Do you remember the gravestone Dean saw in 2x04 Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things which read ‘Loving Father’ and Dean’s pensive look which said clearly ‘I wonder what that’s like’? I remember.

Regarding sexual assault, the antagonist of the episode of America’s first serial killer. The episode gives enough information on him to be going on with, although as Paula R. Stiles points out in her analysis of this episode, Holmes (in our universe, which is not the Superverse) died a long way from the city this episode takes place in. His presence in this episode was generally creepy, but my latest rewatch had me wondering why he was so extra, especially with the second blonde lady. Was it really necessary to make cracks in the ceiling and wall? Just grab the woman and drag her off with you.

When Dean and Jo searched the walls, the cramped, claustrophobic space reminded me very much of the film The Descent (which I remember my youngest sister watching with my dad when she was eight years old).

How exactly the ghost managed to drag adult women through the air vents without getting the attention of the whole building is beyond me, but somehow he managed. Dean managed to pull a hank of blonde hair still attached to a bit of scalp from the air vent, so clearly being dragged through the walls and air vents damages the women. Does nobody hear this? Nobody? Anyway, Holmes presumably imprisoned all the women he kidnapped in the iron cages in his cupboard of delights sewer lair until they died. It is also assumed that the Superverse version of Holmes constructed his lair while he was still alive, and they had stood the test of time.

They manage to trap ghost!Holmes in his sewer lair with a ring of salt, then a while later Dean commandeers a cement mixer and fills the subterranean lair with concrete. I assume the viewer is meant to go away from this believing Holmes is now trapped forever since storms and floods cannot wash the salt circle away, but concrete is porous enough that water can get through it. My blocks of flats is made of concrete blocks, and because of a tiny crack in the roof I had to have half my bedroom cordoned off for several months at the end of 2019 and the beginning of 2020 because of water damage. It would take a while, but percolation will occur. All it would take is a tiny dribble of water, or a tiny bit of concrete breaking off and disturbing the salt. Once that is done, ghost!Holmes can pass right through the concrete and start killing again. So not the best plan there, guys.

Staying with that scene a moment, the track playing while Dean cements the hole is called 'Dean's Dirty Organ', which is an interesting name.

Which of Dean's organs is dirty, why, and why is this so noteworthy that a track is named after it?

Regarding ‘dirty organs’, I was supposed to laugh at Dean’s comment in the walls about ‘shoulda cleaned the pipes’, but I have no idea why, nor do I know why Jo acted as if it were an innuendo of some kind and was offended. How could one reasonably assume that Dean meant something like ‘Jo should have douched’ when there were pipes in front of them?

There was supposed to be innuendo there, but I cannot see it. This is probably another one of those times the writer was trying to make a joke and lots of people act as if the joke was funny, but I remain nonplussed. Other examples:

13x12 Various and Sundry Villains Rowena asking Dean ‘Did they get to fifth base?’ after the witches magically roofied him. Why is Rowena asking Dean whether he engaged in anal intercourse with the women? That is oddly specific, not to mention gross and tone-deaf since any sexual intercourse he engaged in while under the women’s magical control would have been them raping him, regardless of who inserted what into whom. I do not know what I am supposed to be laughing at.

Dean being a ‘meat man’ which is supposedly a reference to Dean finding men’s genitals sexually attractive. Dean DOES find men’s genitals sexually attractive, but none of the definitions of meat man I can find have anything to do with same-sex attracted men. Some say it means a well-endowed man, but then why does Sam act as if it is something weird? I am so confused. Is this a normal-person thing?

One last note before I finish: Dean’s insistence Jo go back to Ellen is undeniably based in his own wish that he could have Mary back. Jo has what Dean cannot, and seeing her take that for granted must have grated on him something fierce.

Thus concludeth my analysis of 2x06 No Exit.

A brief aside to discuss The Winchesters

Having discussed the problems Supernatural had with plot, structure, planning, and pacing, it surprised me when I realised how much different Jensen et al’s prequel show The Winchesters is. At the time of writing, only six episodes have been broadcast, but I am enjoying it more than most shows I have watched in a long time. It reminds me of early-years Buffy, but doing its own thing. Like Buffy, it shows a far greater level of care and skill behind the scenes than a lot of Supernatural did. This is probably down to a few factors:

a) the show has a known point that it must reach

b) more time was taken before the show began to ensure it had a strong plot to start the show off, giving it more focus and direction

c) no weak links in the cast. At the moment, Jensen is carrying the weight of Supernatural on his back, and as much as I am in awe of his Herculean efforts, it is refreshing to see a show he made where everybody shares the weight equally.

d) no Eugenie, Brad, or Robert Singer

The akrida are present in the show from the cold open of the pilot, and their storyline comes up in every episode. Not only that, but each monster-of-the-week is tied in to the akrida storyline by means of the radio signals summoning them for the akrida to gather their essence. As well as that, each episode appears to be linked to an aspect of Dean’s own trauma and the issues he needs to overcome in order to find his own peace, leave hunting behind, and – dare I hope? – find Cas and finally hug him and say ‘I love you too’. Jensen’s own voice-over makes this clear for the idiots in the back.

Even subplots Supernatural did are depicted better in The Winchester. E.g. 1x06 Art of Dying episode paralleled a hunter who became a metaphorical monster due to childhood abuse and bullying with John who was suffering the effects of, among other things, watching his ‘friend’ get blown up by a landmine in Vietnam. Given the fact Dean (or Jensen not quite managing to do the Dean voice <3 ) narrates the beginning and end of each episode, it is also no challenge at all to link this to Dean’s story and experiences, and his need to let go of what John did to him.

Those are just some examples of how The Winchesters is structured better than Supernatural. To be fair to the writers of Supernatural, there was a lot of hostility and competition in the writers’ room over the years, and if rumours are to be believed, Robert Singer was quite the tyrant and his wife Eugenie his right hand among the writers. We apparently have him to blame for what happened to Charlie, a character created by Robbie Thompson (thee show-runner of The Winchesters) and killed off in an episode written by Eugenie and directed by Robert Singer to put Thompson in his place.

I have bitched about ‘the writers’ in the past, but it appears the atmosphere was made toxic by a handful, and many writers’ plans and stories were sabotaged by people with greater seniority.

Speaking of John, as much as I hate Supernatural John, his alternate universe version in The Winchesters is much more likeable. I know the monster John becomes, but even so I find him infinitely more enjoyable to watch than Sam.

#Youtube #edvard's supernatural guide #supernatural meta-analysis #dean winchester #sam winchester #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #hh holmes #spn 2x06 no exit #spn 2x06 #s02e06 #the winchesters

[countlessrealities]

@sinruby​​​​ sent: 🍓 What is something you and the mun disagree on? (for Rick!)  ❄ Did the mun ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do? (for Bill)  🙏 Do you think the mun would be able to survive in your world? (for Mabel) Muses talking about the mun || Accepting !

“S-Something? How about everything?” Rick blows out a displeased breath. “I-I’d have an easier time to pick something we agree on, b-because that’s a fuckin’ short list. An-And I’m not even considering all the shit they do in real life, b-because I have opinions on that too. B-But I get fuckin’ bonked or-or sprayed with cold water whenever I address it, s-so...I’m leaving it alone. N-Not worth the trouble.”

He shrugs casually, but the annoyed frown on his face tells that he isn’t so happy with just leaving the subject be.

“I-I could say the same shit Morty said, a-about Scotty wanting to shove angst an-and bad shit down my throat, b-because they really want to do it, b-but I don’t want to be repetitive. E-Even if it irks the hell out of me. I-Isn’t my fuckin’ backstory tragic enough? N-Not for them, apparently.”

An eyeroll. “I-If I had to pick...W-We disagree a lot on the best way to approach new RP partners. I-I always tell them to just shove me in their inbox or-or whatever, an-and who cares if they didn’t tell them which muses they want. S-Sucks to be them, we pick. B-But they are so fuckin’ awkward an-and end up just sitting there an-and waiting and pushing their stupid interest checker on dash, h-hoping that people will get their heads out of their asses. W-Well, fuck, they should fuckin’ get that it doesn’t work. M-My strategy is much better. T-They should try it. I-I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? T-The other person ignores the ask. B-Big deal. An-And they can always...”

“If you’re done, Rick, it’s my turn,” Bill cuts in, sing song tone both cheerful and threatening at the same time. “We get it. Your ego is so big that it will wilt and die like a cheap flower if it isn’t constantly put in the spotlight. Now remove yourself and your insecurities.”

A loud and angry HEY! echoes from the background, but Bill merely ignores it.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Something I was forced to do against my will? Waiting for that cretin to finish rambling.” His only eye rolls slowly in the socket. “Aside from that, nothing major. I do whatever I want. We made a deal, me and the mun. And I’ll keep my side as long as they keep theirs. As simple as that. Shooting Star, you’re up!”

Mabel lets out a sigh. “...I wish Scotty had kept the asks separated. Or that they had let me go before those two.”

She doesn’t like to be mean, but both Bill and Rick deserve it, even if for different reasons.

“Uh, would Scotty survive in Gravity Falls? I think so. I mean, Weirdmageddon aside, the other creatures...you can handle them, as long as you know what you’re dealing with and as long as you pay enough attention. Dip-Dip and I managed, and we’re just 12, so...Give them a journal and I’m sure they’ll manage. They’ll get a few bruises and some scares, but yeah. I think they might actually have fun! And they can be as unhinged as Grunkle Stan was with those zombie and know martial arts, so...that helps. Not to mention that they wouldn’t have to do it alone, because there’d be us to help! I think it would be great to have them on the team!”

#[ ic :: c137 Rick ] #[ ic :: Mabel ] #[ ic :: Bill ] #[ ic :: fourth wall break ] #sinruby #[[ if you're getting the impression that Rick and I butt heads a lot ]] #[[ you're definitely right xD ]] #[[ no comment Bill -eyeroll- ]] #[[ but at least Mabel was nice ]] #[[ also I hope you don't mind that I put all the asks in the same post! ]]

[tetsuwan-atom]

“Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are  creating?  It  is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic Utopias that  the old reformers imagined. A world of fear and treachery is torment, a world of trampling and being trampled upon, a world  which will grow not less but more  merciless as it refines  itself.

Progress in our world will be progress towards  more pain. The old civilizations claimed that they were founded  on love or justice. Ours is founded upon hatred. In  our  world  there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and  self-abasement. Everything else we shall destroy everything. Already  we  are breaking down the habits of thought which have survived  from before the Revolution. We have cut the links between child  and parent, and between man and man, and between man and woman.  No one dares trust a wife or a child or a friend  any longer.  But  in  the  future  there  will  be  no wives and no friends.  Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one  takes  eggs from a hen.

The sex instinct will be eradicated.  Procreation will be an annual formality like the renewal  of  a  ration  card. We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are  at work upon it now. There will be no loyalty,  except  loyalty  towards  the  Empire.  There will be no love, except the love of your Emperor. There will be no laughter,  except  the  laugh  of  triumph  over  a  defeated  enemy.  There  will  be  no art, no  literature, no science. When we are omnipotent we shall have no  more need of science. There  will  be  no  distinction  between  beauty  and  ugliness. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment  of the  process  of  life.  All  competing  pleasures  will  be  destroyed.  But always – do not forget this, Bowen – always  there will be the intoxication of power, constantly  increasing  and  constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there  will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an  enemy who is helpless. If you want a  picture  of  the  future,  imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.”

UNPROMPTED : ALWAYS Accepting!

"…You know… I thought capitalism was bad… but what you're talking about is like turning the entirety of humanity into a machine. Nothing but obedient dogs, slaves without any purpose but to keep that very machine going. I don't even understand how you could have an Emperor, your 'utopia' wouldn't even need human authority. Just put a computer in charge and let it all run on it's own."

"You can't have fear and rage without love and justice. How can you fear, if you can't feel hope, how can you be angry if you can't feel love? All I can imagine is… some from of eugenics, brain chemistry that… alters one's thinking into zombies… how can it even be called emotion, when it's all just a program. Monsters to serve, monsters to kill, monsters to…. fuck. God. What is trust? Trust what? I suppose there isn't a need for language when all it is.. is just mind programming."

"Your logic is completely flawed. You say there's going to be loyalty. What loyalty? They'll be too mindless in the end to wonder what the hell loyalty is! Love for the Emperor? So the Emperor gets to live, to laugh, to love, while everyone below them has to suffer this… zombification? I'm sure your 'neurologists' will end up facing the same torture they are creating themselves. All your doing is effectively killing the heart of the human race and turning them into what, batteries? A source of labor? Weapons? Milking them for procreation? Could they even stand up to war? Hell, why the fuck are you even doing all this in the first place? I was expecting a… machine utopia where humans were all dead save for the one who runs the whole show but this… this is is more sinister."

"Do you even trust it… trust your method? Will the Emperor trust their subjects, their slaves? Will their Emperor trust the system that might well invariably kill them? Like I said.. a computer could do a better job, with greater efficiency than any living human. No emotion, just calculations. There would be no 'intoxication of power' once it's all automated… it just grows.. and grows.. and feeds.. and feeds, ever expanding, no signs of slowing or stopping. I see a picture of the future… but it won't be how you 'romanticised' it."

"But now that I'm here… you know full well that either future will be in jeopardy. You know who I am, don't you? You know what I'm capable of? You know I'm not going to let any of this happen. Your plan will fail, your empire will fall, your people will be set free."

"You will be stopped."

#ANON #Anonymous #Ask : Please Explain #Bowen Chuuno : The Mighty Atom #YOOOOOOOO #THE TMA VIBES FROM THIS OH MAN #Getting the song Oblivion in my head from this #Haven't had a damn good fight in aaaaaaaages #Thanku for this

[annabethisterrified]

genuinely nothing comforts me more as a writer than remembering that people have read the song of achilles and... not (?!) liked it. mmm that sweet subjectivity 🥰

#for the record i love tsoa with my whole heart!! #but it's the best piece of advice i ever got as a writer. look up your favorite books on goodreads and read the one star reviews. #feel that rage? yeah. #art is subjective as hell! so might as well keep at it and accept it wont be everyone's thing #but it might very much be SOMEONE'S thing #writing

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || LITTLE CAGED ARTIST

| featuring : ryomen sukuna ft. itadori yuji 

| warnings : mention of emotional abuse and murder as well as grammar errors

| form : imagine

| word count : 1691

| published : 22 december

| request : Hello, idk if your request are open but feel free to ignore, but just, imagine another reencarnation au (those imaginw of yours are my favourite) where the reader was a painter and Sukuna's personal favourite so he took her and kinda abused her psycologicaly to the point where she would just draw him and only him and he loved that, and in the future she's still an artist that draws Yuuji bc theyre friends but when she sees the tatoos she again draws Sukuna and he feels guilty for the way he treated her and her art in the pastIf It's angst i would apreciate but it's not really necesary

| barista’s notes : hi there~ i apologies for the extremely long wait for your coffee order but now it is there ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ right now it is nearly 5am in the morning and i have no idea why the hell i am awake, but oh well ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ  DONT WORRY THOUGH! after this, i am going to sleep and rest up since today it is Fushiguro Megumi’s and Kageyama Tobio’s birthday today ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ but other than that, i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and i hope you come back soon! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

“Sukuna….please leave me alone...leave the village alone, I beg of you please,” you whimpered to the man that was standing tall and proud with a sadistic smirk painted on his face, while you were on your knees tightly holding onto his large wrist - somewhat slightly covering the black ring marking - as if your weak physical strength could do anything to stop his raising them up and giving a rain upon hell to the people that was residing in the small town you lived in.

You have no idea how you had managed to catch the attention of the most feared curse to both humans and jujutsu sorcerers nor did you know how you managed to become acquainted with the man in front of you. All you knew right now was that the situation you were in at this current moment and time, was not ideal to anyone at all.

You were just a simple artist. A simple village girl artist that was blessed to be hired by the nobility and aristocracy to paint their family portraits with the finest colours that they would offer you, for you to be then paid so you could provide for your village. However, as luxurious as it sounded, you were in love with the idea of just placing a sharped piece of charcoal on a piece of paper or cloth you could find anywhere and sketch your heart designed.

“Leave you alone?” Sukuna questioned you in his deep voice, before slowly crouching down to become face to face with you. “I could never leave you alone, not when you have caught my attention with your craft little one,” Sukuna then stated, as he gently placed a hand on your cheek before using his thumb to caress the soft skin he was touching. 

Ever since Sukuna had caught sight of you delicately painting a portrait of a noblewoman with such care and gentleness, he couldn’t help but wonder how your hands were so carefully and how patient you were to make sure every stroke was perfect to your desire. Slowly, he began to wonder what it was like to be the subject of one's view. A subject that someone desired to recreate on a simple piece of paper. However, compared to his past sightings, you were the most talented as well as the most beautiful he had ever seen and once he was able to gain a clear view of the noble woman that you were illustration, he was surprised at how much detail you were able to encapture in your work and just like the noble woman’s reaction, they both were extremely happy with the result of the final product.

“How about this?” Sukuna suddenly asked, causing your head to suddenly shot up leading you to meet eye to eye with the King of Curses, “if you come with me and draw me and me only for the rest of time, I would leave this little village alone as well as the people residing in it. How does that sound, little one?”

‘Come with him? Where? Why? What’s going to happen to me?’

“If you don’t accept this deal, every single person here will die. Burned, stabbed, slashed, any way possible I can. Men, women and even little children’s lives will be gone, and it would be all your fault.”

‘My….fault? But-’

“You know I’m not a patient person little one, I might as well start my massacre while you take your time to think, it will be-”

“NO PLEASE! DON’T, YOU CAN TAKE ME, JUST LEAVE THE VILLAGE ALONE, PLEASE!” you screamed in desperation, as you tighten the grip of his wrist that was within your grasp to keep him down, as you didn’t want to risk him getting away from your sights for the safety and protection of the people  within the little town you had lived in since the day your life had started.

With a large cruel grin, Sukuna had somehow managed to pry his wrists free from your tense grip before sliding an arm under your knees as well as an arm around your body lifting you up in a bridal position, while you were just expressing a face of shock and fear, confused and fearful on what you had just accepted in exchange for your life. Where were you going? Was this the end? Were you going to die? How much longer have you had left?

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you, you’re too precious to be slaughtered little one,” Sukuna answered - as if he knew what you were thinking - before placing a ghostly kiss upon your temple leading you to freeze still, petrified on what he would do with you had moved a single inch.

This was your life now. 

A caged artist.

                                               ꕥ

Here you were, sitting on a wooden platform outside with a sharpened piece of charcoal that Sukuna had kindly given you, in order for you to sketch a portrait of him. The second you placed the charcoal upon the paper, Sukuna couldn’t help but stare at the light movements of your hand as you lightly stroke a few lines to create an outline before watching your hand suddenly pause, causing the King of Curses to switch his view from the sheet to you, only to find your look at him with such a frightened look.

“I’m sorry…..I shouldn’t look at you, should I? I apologise deeply,” you softly muttered before quickly turning back to the portrait that was right in front of you - you didn’t want to do anything wrong in his eyes, you knew he could go back on his words and harm the people that you cared about. However, it seemed like Sukuna didn’t care at all, he had managed to trap you into his life and had the power to demand you to draw him every time he would mention he could go back to your little village and burn it to the ground. He relished in the idea of being the subject of your attention.

This is what he wanted. 

His little caged artist.

                                               ꕥ

1000 years later and here you were. 

Here you were sketching a picture of your best-friend Itadori with a picture of him that you had managed to capture on your phone. Itadori first came into your life shortly after you had enrolled into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Techincal College around the same time as your other classmate Kugisaki did. 

You have no idea what drew you into the boy with the pink hair, but something within you pulled you towards him causing the blooming and somewhat hilarious friendship to start, even causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to wonder what was going on in your mind to somehow relate to the boy - yet, they didn’t mention their questions since they didn’t really think you knew the answer yourself, and they were correct.

However, as you continued to smoothly glide your pencil across the page, applying different pressures to construct some definitions as well as shadows within the photo you were copying from, you began to suddenly realise that you were starting to draw marking upon his portrait. Markings that were so familiar to the ones the person within him had.

Ever since that day at the Eishu Detention Centre, the sight of Sukuna standing in front of you with his shirt ripped off showcasing his black marking caused a trigger of unknown memories to suddenly flood into your mind, causing excruciating pain that was so unbearable, you thought you were going to pass out from the intense pressure, maybe as even close to dying from the immense pain.

From what you could even recall from the sudden flood of blurry images that appeared in your mind, there was a picture of you drawing with a piece of charcoal with the infamous King of Curses seating right beside you, watching you draw will whispering in your ear the threats that he would bombard you in order for you to make sure that you were only drawing him and him only.

Slowly but in a shaking manner, your drawing hand continued to sketch in Sukuna’s markings that would appear on Itadori’s body as you were somewhat extremely afraid of what the King of Curses could do to you if you didn’t - just how you left 1000 years ago.

Although unknown to you, your best-friend Itadori was standing right behind you, having a clear view of what was happening to you as well as the drawing right in front of him. Seeing your shaking figure with slow but clear teardrops landing on the sketch book as well as the drawing evolving from him to the curse residing inside of him, made him realise how damaging Sukuna was to not only him but also to the people around him. Carefully, Itadori placed a hand over your hand that held the pencil, causing you to flinch before finally noticing that it was your friend that was holding it and not the special grade curse.

Within his Innate Domain, Sukuna also had a clear view on what was happening to you and slowly but strangely began to feel something drop to his stomach with the feeling of his throat closing up at the sight of you slowly breaking down into a small state of insanity. This isn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want his beautiful little one to become lifeless and paranoid like you were now.

Even after 1000 years after your death, your incarnation was carrying the feeling of fear, despair and numbness that you were weighed upon the second you had given your life away to the King of Curses for the sake of your village. Even though you had more freedom then you did then, you still left trapped and lost within the metal cage that Sukuna had enclosed you in. Even with the small hint of guilt that was manifested within the cruel curse’s heart. 

You were trapped with no escape out.

You were trapped forever with no key to open the door that was clearly right in front of you.

Forever his little caged artist.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk ryomen #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna imagines #sukuna imagine #sukuna ryomen imagines #sukuna ryomen imagine

[megthemewlingquim]

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

    that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

    being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

    ‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

   yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

    the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

    dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

   so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

   no...

   no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

   that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

   however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

   you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest. 

    and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

   to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

   to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

   and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

   you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

   and that’s when it hits him.

   persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

   for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

   people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

   he pities you. you seem lonely.

   loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

   “hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

   your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

   “it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

   with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

   “what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

   “yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

   he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

   you shrug. “she loves me.”

   “and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

   he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

   “smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

   “we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

   “damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

   he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

   “you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

   “yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

   “my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

   his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

   and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

   “think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

   “i'm twenty—one.”

   “and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

   when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

   “so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

   it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

   “don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

   before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

   you say your name, your voice quiet.

   “much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

   “okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

   loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.

#foreigner's god #loki x reader #loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x reader smut headcanons #loki x reader drabble #loki x reader headcanons #loki x you #loki x y/n #greek mythology au #mythology au #hozier #loki odinson #hades and persephone #au #alternate universe #marvel cinematic universe #loki au #loki drabble #loki fic #marvel #mcu

[infernalrevenge]

HCs abt an S/O of Lady D's who's struggling to get her daughters' approval? It's rarely addressed in fanfics, but y'all.. becoming a stepparent is a hard and frustrating journey, especially when mama and kids have such tight bonds. Makes small wins feel so rewarding, tho! What are your thoughts on that? How would D react, how would she help? (or make it harder, in true possessive Mother Hen™ fashion..) Which flybaby would warm up to S/O first? How would S/O try to win each of them over, etc..?

Oooh this is a really cool thought! Not that I have a lot of experience with stepparents but yeah, changes and adjustments in family dynamics like that can't be easy. I think I'm gonna have some fun with this.

When the Dimitrescu sisters found out you were the human dating their mother, at first they were mostly indifferent. Not like it's their business as to who Alcina gets it on with anyway (and they could also be thinking you would quickly turn to lunch if you fuck up badly enough, in which case they would gladly join her in the feast.)

They might quip with you sometimes, but for the most part, you're left alone.

But when they realized you were here to stay and might become a parental figure in their life... oh boy.

You're telling them they have to answer to you now? A mere mortal? On what grounds? Just because you have sex with their mom? They think the fuck not.

Hell, they're individually old enough to be your parent, so truly... what the fuck?

(Part of that fear of you joining the family may come from thinking that Alcina now has someone else to preoccupy herself with, so there's less time for them. Perhaps even less love for them. They can't have that. That can't happen.)

As for your partner's reaction? She's kind of torn. On one hand, she understands how her daughters feel about having a new family member suddenly join the dynamic -- someone they barely know relative to each other. You could have been around for a few years, but they've been all together for more than half a century, and they're doing just fine.

On the other, she wants to see you all getting along. She loves you and wants you to be a part of her life, and of course she also loves her daughters with all her heart.

She's not really sure what to do, so she kind of... ends up not doing anything.

But she is curious as to what you'll do about the situation though, since the sisters would hardly make it a secret that your presence is an annoyance at best, completely unwanted and unwelcome at worst.

Bela, surprisingly, might be the hardest to win over. You would think that, as the eldest, she should be the one to lead by example and be the mature one. Plus, she's always looking for her mother's approval, so approving of you may get her on her good side (and yours.)

But she's very opposed to change, especially one that affects her life this much when it's not her choice.

She lets Cassandra and Daniela get away with pulling harmless pranks on you to get under your skin, or make Alcina mad at you. She pretends to not have a direct hand in them and would passive-aggressively remark on whatever they did.

Oh, your clothes were misplaced and looking for new ones made you late to a date with the Lady? "None of them were very nice anyway. This is doing you a favor."

You found dog poop under your bed and now you reek? "I don't smell that much of a difference."

Getting doused in sticky honey and molasses somehow? "At least Mother has a reason to think you're sweet now."

They would never do anything to hurt you, not unless they want to incur their mother's wrath or sadness, just... little things (hopefully enough to get you to leave.)

But luckily, if you're a patient and persistent person, they (ever so) slowly warm up to you in different ways.

The most important thing to remember is that they're different people despite having a lot of things in common, so your manner of approaching them will have to vary for each sister.

Daniela might be the easiest to win over, such a sociable little fly. She might try to be standoffish at first, but if you bring up a book series that she enjoys reading as a topic for conversation, she can and will keep you there for hours talking about the characters, dissecting certain themes, and explaining her theories of the inner machinations of the plot.

If you actually start reading it upon her recommendation, she becomes ecstatic. Finally, someone other than her sisters she can explain these theories to! And someone who can actually relate and add on to them!

Eventually, she'll come to realize that having you around won't mean the end of their family. It just means they're getting more out of it -- a new member to love, and one who loves them.

Cassandra might be a little territorial about her current interests, so you'll have to take on a different approach.

Maybe try introducing her to something that peripherally matches what she likes now. She seems to really like hunting and torture to take her aggression out on, so uh... maybe try martial arts?

It would be more fun if it was something the both of you were new at, so you could bond over attempting to do things together. Nothing says "I want to get to know my stepdaughter better" like letting her throw you to the mat and laugh in excitement when she gets the technique right.

She is still very stubborn though, so she may take a while to fully convince. Even when it seems like you're on her good side, there's a tiny bit of denial. But she'll come around, no matter how reluctant.

Finally, as for Bela, she just needs to see that, though most of her family now genuinely likes you, that it doesn't have to change a thing about how they feel about her either. They're not going to abandon her or anything that drastic just because someone new has entered their lives.

Seeing her sisters approve of you can be jarring, no matter how long or gradual the process may have been. Like, weren't they switching out your shampoos and putting snakes in your closet last year? Why is everyone buddy buddy now? (Why are they leaving her behind?)

She'll start to act bitter toward everyone, feeling like she's been betrayed and shut herself away. She doesn't even want to see her own mother anymore.

But eventually, you have to talk to Alcina to do something too -- she could see you were making an effort, but she's not making it clear to her daughters what exactly was happening. She should be the first to approach Bela regarding the subject, along with her sisters.

You may need some time alone with her as well to drive the point home too. Having more people in the family doesn't mean less love, but in fact it means more, because now you're there to care for her too.

And she has to admit that seeing her mother care for you, having her sisters like you, it didn't really feel like they were any different towards her. They were more insistent in getting her to spend time with you, sure, but other than that... things were mostly the same.

The acceptance may be begrudging at first, but when she actually gets used to this new norm, she'll come around.

If you want to bond with her, you can teach her something. She likes learning new things, and she'll start to warm up to you more if she has reason to keep going to you to get this new information.

It can be anything -- music, arts, sports, cooking, you name it. Even introducing her to new technology will help get on her good side. You'd be surprised at how quickly she gets into it that you start to wonder why it was so hard to get her to like you in the first place.

Also, just talk to her. As a person, as your new daughter, whatever. Just acknowledge her and be honest. She appreciates the little things.

All in all, it's going to be tough. The journey will have its ups and downs, and not everything is going to be smooth sailing. Communication is key, though, as with any sort of relationship. Let the girls know you care for them just as much as you love and care for their mother. In a way, that's all they really want.

But they're not calling you "mom/dad/parental unit". First name basis with a stepparent (affectionate) all the way.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #dimitrescu sisters #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #anon #inbox #headcanon requests #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #bela dimitrescu headcanons #cassandra dimitrescu headcanons #daniela dimitrescu headcanons #stepparent reader

[pennylanewrites]

I got seven different asks about the College AU so here are some headcanons I have about them! (imagine aiura is in the picture I couldn’t find a good one with all of them)

I definitely didn’t mean to make this so long but I can’t help it I love them all so much<3

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Saiki Kusuo

→ marine!!!biology!!!major!!!!!!!!

→ doesn’t need to study but he still does bc he finds marine life so fascinating

→ read all of his textbooks on the first day bc he was so excited eeeek

→ always wears his germanium ring in class so he can stay hashtag focused

→ him and aiura have to bail toritsuka(didn’t go to college) out of jail once a month

→ speaking of aiura, she somehow has convinced him to go on a date on five different occasions

→ i think after high-school he realised he didn’t mind a kind of casual not-relationship with her

→ lets her hug him to greet him and sometimes he hugs back bc college boys stare a lot and he is just worried for her okay?

→ maybe I’m just projecting bc I kin aiura

→ does not go to parties unless he absolutely has to

→ if he does go to a party he’ll drink something quietly in a corner, just watching the crowd

→ a perv laced Teruhashi’s drink and almost lured her up the stairs so of fucking course Kusuo sprinted to help her, holding her on the way home bc men are drawn to her like bees to honey

→ she didn’t let him live it down ever

→ he rented a studio apartment and keeps it super clean, minimum clutter but enough to look lived in

→ cooks amazing food that Nendo smells from upstairs and next thing you know, they’re all bringing chairs to Kusuo’s apartment and have dinner

→ nothing excuses the fact he makes at least eight servings every time–

→ such a dad to everyone honestly

→ usually studies at a library or teleports back home if there’s a big test

→ mrs. saiki was banned from visiting every two days but she still ends up there somehow

→ not that he minds bc he’s the biggest mama’s boy ever

→ probably graduates a year early

→ doesn’t move away even though he got a job at the aquarium at the other side of the city help–

Kaidou Shun

→ fine arts major you can NOT change my mind

→ doesn’t do good in theoretical subjects but mans can draw some good bowls of fruit

→ wears those stained from the paints t-shirts all the time bc ‘no they’re not dirty it’s art!’

→ him and aren have small designated spaces in their apartment so they can focus on their hobbies/studying

→ his corner at the living room has newspapers on the floor to protect it from the splattering paint, some canvases propped up on the wall and a lot of unfinished projects

→ hides all of them when Nendou comes over

→ can not cook or clean to save his life

→ so he calls his mum to help clean up when Aren is at work

→ got over his 8th grader syndrome at some point

→ still wears red bandages bc he’s edgy

→ volunteers at the neighborhood exhibit centre

→ got asked to showcase his own works for a night and hasn’t shut up about it since

→ goes to yumehara for relationship advice and braids her hair as a thank you

→ couples sleepovers with Yumehara and Teruhashi (yes they’re dating shut up)

→ always makes something for Aren at special occasions (birthdays, anniversaries etc)

→ at first he went back home every saturday bc he missed his family :(

→ Aren helps him get over it though!!!!

Nendou Riki

→ got in on a sports scholarship

→ we already know he couldn’t be accepted in a college otherwise

→ in the chiropractic major bc he wants to be one of those athlete doctors

→ has failed way too many exams and classes

→ Hairo helps him so much though!!!

→ the last one in the group to graduate but somehow gets a job first (excluding Saiki)

→ him and hairo get up at 5 am for jogging or to hit the gym

→ and then he goes and gets noodles bc ‘if noodles aren’t for breakfast why do shops open at 6 am?’

→ hasn’t stepped foot in class in months

→ he gets decent grades after failing the first semester and it’s totally not Saiki’s doing

→ he ends up signing up for way too many clubs

→ attends all of the meetings and has so many friends through them

→ I would be his friend too in college honestly

→ a fraternity wanted to get him bc he’s so good at sports

→ he declined bc he does not understand how fraternities even work

→ is the life of EVERY SINGLE PARTY change my mind you can’t

→ whatever you do don’t imagine nendo surprising his boyfriend with flowers after every practice

→ *dies cutely*

Kuboyasu Aren

→ SOCIOLOGY MAJOR

→ idk I just think he would enjoy Marx’s Capital

→ debate club? hell yeah

→ gets in philosophical conversations at the school yard for HOURS

→ kaidou has to drag him away

→ only shops at thrift stores and makes coffee at home bc “capitalism is not accepted in this household”

→ rides his motorcycle to college even though he lives five minutes away

→ grew his hair out in a mullet again and he looks *chef’s kiss*

→ thought he would be moving too fast if he asked Kaidou to rent an apartment together

→ aiura convinced him it was fine

→ cooks kaidou’s favorite foods every day

→ participates in student rallies, human rights protests etc etc

→ comes home with bruises and kaidou thinks he looks so hot but still yells at him

→ Aren’s favorite place to study is his balcony or at a coffee shop

→ always with kaidou! cute boyfriends who do everything together!!

→ gets so drunk when they go out

→ drunk karaoke with kokomi yes yes yes

Hairo Kineshi

→ did someone say Athletic Training?

→ does every single sport and is amazing at it

→ will cheer for his bf if they have a game at the same time though

→ it was his idea to move in together bc ‘hey we’ve been dating for three years now might as well’

→ volunteers at a nearby elementary as a coach for the kids

→ SO GOOD WITH KIDS

→ wants to be a P.E. Teacher and he’s going to be great at it

→ does everything he can at campus

→ helping random clubs, making posters, cleaning up the hallways, helping the cheer squad with their new routine

→ dances ballet as a hobby even though he’s so good at it that he could be a professional

→ makes everything a competition with Nendo so they never get bored

→ once made everyone get up to jog with them and they ended up sleeping on random benches while Hairo and Nendo were halfway across town

→ will punch someone if he sees them catcalling a girl

→ doesn’t drink at all and eats super healthy

→ designated driver for the group’s outings downtown

Aiura Mikoto

→ THEATER MAJOR

→ is so good at stage acting it’s unreal

→ lands the lead role almost every time

→ is also an amazing singer so she gets great roles in musicals as well

→ doesn’t have to get a job bc she gets all her money from doing readings on campus

→ gets coffees and pastries from all the coffee shops around campus and sits Kusuo down so he can taste them

→ they have a little taste-testing date in his apartment until they decide none of them are as good as the ones at Cafe Mami

→ she totally doesn’t make him teleport there every morning and he totally doesn’t listen to her

→ moved in with chiyo bc they wanted a nice place that they couldn’t afford on their own

→ teruhashi told them to move in with her but they already loved their little place

→ aiura’s bedroom is the most comfortable and cozy room ever

→ their apartment is also the hang out spot for the group bc it’s just so homey

→ hangs out with her theatre group a lot, especially after class

→ they can’t compare to her friends though:(

→ everyone goes to her when they’re worried and she loves it bc she’s the mummy of the group

→ she makes everyone coffee and their comfort food before big exams:)

Yumehara Chiyo

→ psychology major one thousand percent

→ you know how they say that people choose psychology bc they don’t know what major they want?

→ that’s exactly what happened except she fell in love with it immediately

→ such a good student!!!

→ always does her assignments on time and still manages to have a social life

→ teruhashi asked her out at the end of their first semester and that’s the first time chiyo missed a deadline

→ practically lives with teruhashi, insisting it’s just to leave aiura alone

→ she’s just IN LOVE OKAY?????

→ would want to be a sorority girl at first

→ changed her mind when she realized how much shit they all talked

→ her and kaidou drink wine and talk about their relationships and studies

→ she’s so sleep deprived it’s unreal

→ she doesn’t need sleep anymore though

→ coffee is her best friend

→ makes asks Aiura for readings twice a week

→ brings all her psychology friends home and they analyze their textbooks

→ once she got the hang of it, she decided to examine Kusuo

→ she told him he needs actual medical evaluation

→ he almost threw her out the window when she offered some Xanax for his nerves

→ chiyo is a neat freak one hundred percent

→ hates when Aiura throws everything on the floor, but she loves cleaning

→ opens her own office after school

Teruhashi Kokomi

→ PRE-MED

→ lesbian doctor :)

→ just wanted to get away from her perv brother at first

→ she always wanted to be a doctor though, preferably a neurosurgeon

→ she’s super duper smart and hates when she gets good grades bc of her good looks:(

→ makes it her goal to show her professors that she’s more than a beautiful girl

→ hasn’t failed a single exam

→ helps everyone with their studies even though she’s drowning in work

→ drops the perfect girl image at college and decides she should try and aim for something normal

→ gets invited to every single party

→ in a knitting club bc it would get disbanded without one more member

→ knits!!!matching!!!sweaters!!!for all of her friends!!!

→ asked Chiyopipi out while drunk

→ never regretted it though

→ her and aren get so drunk when they go out with the group

→ it’s honestly unreal how much they can drink before passing out

→ has to get carried home

→ wakes up after getting drunk and runs to her class before remembering it’s Sunday

→ her penthouse has the perfect view of the sunset and sunrise and is all she could ask for in life

→ does get lonely so she’s practically living with Chiyo and Aiura

→ once she realized she didn’t like boys she made it her goal to get Saiki and Aiura together

→ people wonder how she has so much time to play matchmaker and volunteer while she’s in premed

→ does her internship at a hospital

→ ends up working there as a neurosurgeon after her Doctorate degree

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

#saiki kusuo no ψ nan #tdlosk #saiki k no psi nan #saiki kusuo #nendou saiki k #nendou riki #kaidou headcanons #kaidou shun #kaidou x aren #saiki k headcanons #teruhashi #teruhashi kokomi #aiura mikoto #yumehara chiyo #nendou x hairo #hairo kineshi #aren x shun #aren kuboyasu #saiki k #Kusuo #college au #anime headcanons #anime fluff #the disastrous life of saiki k. #tdlosk headcanons

[a-dusty-emerald]

Till it sinks in: Draco x Reader / Hurt-Comfort, Fluff Fic

A hurt-comfort fluff fic, with a slytherin Y/n being the girlfriend of the softie-who-hates-to-be-called-softie-so-he-bitches-all-day Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Where Umbridge uses her quill on you.

_____________________________________________

Dolores Umbridge, maybe the most hated teacher to set foot at Hogwarts, had a special dislike against anyone who disobeyed. And while that may be all teachers, not all teachers dismissed sobbing students from their detention. Every single student that got detention with Umbridge looked broken afterwards, but no one knew what she said to them; it was a mystery.

Professor McGonagall, for instance, made sure the students that misbehaved researched a wide topic for a few hours during the week, with the intimidating presence of her self. Professor Snape, on the other hand, locked students in the Potions classroom and let them out after the successfull brewing of a potion of his liking. Hence, it must be something similar.

Y/n strolled into class, her curls bouncing around the embroided slytherin crest of her robe. Defence against the dark arts was her worst subject, she only thought it was interesting when Professor Lupin taught it, and had done surprisingly well. Then, it was a hands-on, useful and fascinating module, while now, Umbridge followed the Ministry's policy to teach the students in a "risk free" way, by only reading through the theory. Not only were the lessons incredibly boring, the whole book was utterly useless.

"As if Voldemort will ask you the theory of Merlin's rule of categorisation of spells when he Avada-Kedavra's your ass", Y/n had scoffed when she saw the chapters. Draco had laughed, but told her that his father had owled him that Umbridge was a family ally, and hence he could not be out of line in her class.

"When did you become such a nerd?"

"Oh shut it Y/n", Y/n recalled.

She had also implemented some stupid rules, like "no touching between boys and girls, and a six feet distance at all times", and reduced the hours that students could go out of their dorms. While Dumbledore wanted the students to be at their dorms by 10pm, Umbridge thought that 6pm was acceptable.

As if.

Y/n entered the class, the only class she did not sit with Draco. Apparently, boys and girls could also not sit with one another, since they would eventually touch. And in a doomed world controlled by Umbridge, that was a sin.

Draco spotted his girlfriend entering the room, wearing a bored look on her face. He was not excited about DADA either. His parents might have told him that Umbridge was the best thing that could happen in this school, but he was not blind or stupid. The stuff being taught were useless and her teaching method was more boring than 5 hours of Divination with no breaks in his eyes. At least then, he could laugh at Trelawney. Now he just was supposed to stay silent and listen Umbridge reading the most basic book ever again and again.

He realised he got lost in his thoughts and was staring at Y/n longer than intended. She seemed bored as hell, but her eyes always intimidated him - yet, he would never admit out loud. Even the plainest of her looks had such passion beneath it, her deep dark orbs had a fire in them, surrounded by thick eyelashes, making her look coy and mischevious even when she was not planning to.

Y/n noticed him looking and smirked back at him.

"Stop staring, people might think that you like me" she mouthed silently to him. He grinned and shook his head. 'She is something else', he thought.

An unpleasantly familiar trotting of heels approached the creaking floor at the centre of the classroom, making students focus on the short, evil woman that was tormenting the school; Umbridge.

"Hello, my dear students" she smiled in a sickly manner. "Today we are learning about the theory of protection spells."

Y/n groaned, thinking other students would join her, however, it was this uncomfortable and awkward moment that everyone had decided to stay deadly silent, making her disapproving groan loud and clear to be heard.

"Is there an issue, miss Y/l/n?" Umbridge smiled in the evilest way she could.

"No, no, of course not. I always wanted to listen about the theory of protection spells." Y/n smiled in the fakest way possible.

"Is that irony I am sensing, Y/l/n?" Umbridge had a more serious look now, her smile not decieving anyone.

"Nope." She said, emphasising the "p" sound in her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she quickly glanced to Draco, who had a warning glare. "Don't aggravate her!" He mouthed. Y/n rolled her eyes, and unfortunately for her, Umbridge saw that, taking it as it was directed at her.

She scrunched up her nose and stomped her heel lightly on the floor, when she exclaimed: "Detention after class, miss y/l/n! That attitude of yours is no match for a young witch!"

Draco did not know why everyone was saying Umbridge's detention was horrible, he had heard she only requested some lines. Even so, her detention had gained a horrible reputation, and he didn't like it one bit that his girlfriend would be the one going there.

Even so, he was angry at her, he had warned her so many times. She was such a brat every time she spoke to Umbridge, when he had told her that every student that was leaving her detention was crying.

The DADA lesson had finished, when Y/n saw Draco stomping towards her, stopping around the 6 feet limit, keeping his distance.

"Why do you never listen?!" His angry hissing voice aggravated her even more.

"I rolled my freaking eyes, Draco, chill."

"You were sarcastic. You know you were. Are you happy now?" His glare was piercing her soul.

"I am not, actually. I would prefer no stupid rules, but I guess my boyfriend is too much of a wuss to think for himself and see how ridiculous Umbridge is."

"She just wants order. Besides, its temporary!" He half whispered, half yelled.

"Sure. Tell that to yourself to feel better, darling." Now she was mad at him. "Now excuse me, I have a detention to go to." She closed the gap between them - breaking the rule- just to bump on his shoulder angrily, and stomped past him, going to detention.

"Fine! I don't give a fuck, then!" She heard her boyfriend's voice. She knew he didn't mean it at all, but she silently prayed he changed his mind after her detention, he had an hour to think by himself after all. She was hoping for an apology.

Y/n lightly knocked on her door, listening to Draco's advice for once. She should be polite, calm and collected no matter what she said to her. She couldn't risk an expulsion. Umbridge's sickly laugh was heard. "Come in, y/l/n."

Y/n opened the door, fighting back her urge to laugh or roll her eyes. Her least favourite colour, fuchsia pink, was plastered everywhere, cats trapped on the walls, and a heavy, sickly, sugary aroma filled her nostrils, she did her best to keep her pokerface.

"Sit", the teacher ordered. "You will do some lines today, Y/n."

Relief passed through her. That wasn't that bad. She grabbed a piece of paper and moved to grab her quill, when the fuchsia toad in front of her stopped her. "Oh no, dear. I'm afraid you wont need that." She smiled, and handed her a large black feathered quill from her own collection. "Use this, please. It is one of my favourites."

Y/n grabbed the quill and moved again to reach for her ink. "Oh, silly me, I forgot." She heard the professor giggle. "You won't need any ink, dear."

She looked at Umbridge confused, her tamed eyebrows furrowing to her words. Still, she went with it. She grabbed the quill and before she started, Umbridge directed her "you shall write the line: I must not be arrogant." Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"How many times, Professor?" She said.

"Hm... let's just say... till it sinks in." Umbridge giggled once again, sipping her tea.

Y/n scoffed silently and started writing the lines, red ink magically appearing on paper. Her left hand was uncomfortable the whole time, but she ignored it. As soon as she finished the first line, though, the discomfort became a burning sensation, and hurt so much, like someone was creating small cuts in her skin. She looked at her hand to see what was going on, only to see the line she wrote engraved in her hand.

'You evil bitch' Y/n thought.

Every time she would rewrite the sentence, it was like the invisible knife digged deeper and deeper in her skin, twisting at each twist of the quill. She looked at Umbridge with teary eyes, a silent plea to stop this torture. Blood was seeping out of her wound uncontrollably now, staining her robe. Umbridge just glanced at her and said "one more page."

Through silent tears, a wrecked bloodied hand, trembles and gritted teeth, she finished her torture without making a sound. She excused her self, said goodbye to the professor, and closed the heavy door behind her, exhaling with a trembled sob escaping her lips. An exhale that she was holding for an hour.

She contained her tears and hid her hand from plain sight. She did not want to worry anyone, and she sprinted with all the energy she could muster to the dungeons. She just wanted to wash it off, wrap it in a clean cloth, and have a good cry.

As she was approaching the dungeons, it dawned on her: she could run up to Draco there. What should she do? On one hand, the thought of making him feel bad enticed her, she was still mad about his behaviour. On the other hand, she knew he meant no harm, and that he would make her start a legal war with Umbridge. She really didn't want to do anything right now, as much as she hated her guts.

She hid her hand better, wiped her eyes, took a few deep breaths and prayed that her boyfriend was not in the common room, as she opened the door.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco was waiting restlessly at the common room all this time. He didn't like the fact they fought before, he hated not being on good terms with Y/n. He didn't think he was entirely on the wrong though. 'Maybe if she listened to me once in a whi-'

His thoughts came to a halt when he saw a trembling Y/n enter the common room. Her eyes were red and glassy, and she was crouched in a weird position. He instantly forgot everything he was thinking of and sprinted towards her. When her eyes fell on him, she inhaled sharply, sttaightening her posture. He was terribly worried and she could feel it.

"Darling?" His soft voice was music to her ears.

Her eyes avoided his, refilling with tears just from his worried voice.

"I-I need to go to my room." She said with a lowered gaze.

"Tell me what's wrong please-"

"I thought you didn't give a fuck." Her voice was low when she said it, her teary eyes finally meeting his. She did not mean to snap at him, but everything was too much.

He finally locked eyes with her now, the emotion he saw in her overtaking him. He pursed his lips and looked down.

"I'm sorry. You know - baby you know thats not true. I want to know what happened. What did she say to you that made you cry? You don't cry easily, I know that. If you want I'll report her!" He was frantically searching for her gaze again, his grey irises full of concern.

"She said nothing bad to me. She instructed me through my lines." She avoided his gaze once again.

He lowered his gaze as well, and broke the -for once- uncomfortable silence, his voice slightly broken.

"Do you not trust me?"

His words echoed in her head. She did. She did with her life. She could not stay mad at him, no matter her anger. "I do. I'm sorry, I'm a-a bit of a m-mess, i'll tell you, j-just give me a few m-minutes..."

His hand grabbed hers to pull her into an embrace, to hold her close, to calm her. As soon as his hand grasped her own, though, a strong wave of stinging pain shot through her, a hissing sound escaping her lips as she yanked her hand away. She was holding it close to her heart, a few hot tears escaping her eyes. There was no escape now.

Draco looked at her wide eyed, a blank expression of confusion mixed with worry resting on his features. "What-"

He looked down on his hand. Blood.

He inhaled sharply. Blood? His heart was pounding in his chest now, his fury for Umbridge boiling. What exactly happened in her detentions?

"Darling." He spoke. His voice was low and steady, and Y/n could swear she could hear her own heartbeat. "Your hand. Please." He extended his own to signal her to give her hers. Slowly, she put her bloodied palm on his own.

"Did she do this?", he hissed angrily. Y/n nodded but winced at his tone, not ready for facing an angry Draco. He saw that, and his features calmed down.

He grasped her shoulders carefully, gently pulling her in a hug, lightly kissing her forehead and letting his lips linger there. He tilted her chin up, pressing a quick peck on her lips.

"Im not mad at you". He said steadily, to show he meant every word. "I'll kill her, honestly" he mumbled, as his eyes examined the wounds.

"I must not be arrogant?!?"

He felt his anger rise again, as he managed to read the cuts that were filled with blood.

"She h-had a black quill. I would write on paper and it would transfer the letters in m-my hand. Must be c-cursed." Y/n said between small sobs.

His one arm cradled her head and she felt him moving the other one on her waist, urging her to move. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up. I'll send a letter to my father. She will be out of her position tomorrow."

Y/n's eyes widened "No n-no I-"

Draco didn't let her finish "Y/n, I love you but please shut up."

For the first time in a while, Y/n giggled, music to Draco's ears.

He took his time being extra gentle on her wound, making sure it is clean, before putting a few healing spells on it, muttering apologies whenever Y/n would wince.

"Tomorrow your hand will be good as new. Trust me."

"I trust you Draco. Thank you."

His eyes looked up from her wound, and Y/n was sure she could melt. He had the softest gaze ever. They fell asleep in each other's embrace, soft kisses taking away the pain.

The next morning, Y/n could hardly stiffle a laugh at the annoucement of Umbridge being suddently fired. She turned at her boyfriend, who looked smug as ever.

His eyes glimmered and his eyebrows wiggled with smugness, as he said:

"She should not have been that arrogant. Guess karma is a bitch." He shrugged.

That Malfoy boy was your everything and you knew it.

FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE!! Feedback is always welcome, love you all!

#dracomalfoy #Draco #draco lucius malfoy #draco headcanons #draco x y/n #draco x oc #fanfiction #slytherin #Slytherpride #slytherin hogwarts #draco x slytherin!reader #hurt #comfort #fanfic #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #dolores jane umbridge #umbridge #umbridge sucks #softie #like and share

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

-

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

--

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

--

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

--

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

--

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

--

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

--

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

--

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #ask #reply #napoleonic #history #19th century #imperial myth making #napoleonic identity

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

#geraskier #bouncey's buddies #prompt fill #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #getting together #boyband au #geraskier boyband au #the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus' #ellie has the braincell #thirsty jaskier #thirsty geralt #soft geralt #protective geralt #clumsy jaskier #soft boys content #bouncey's endless au collection #bouncey's endless getting together fics

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers First Dates!

The fluff levels are reaching new heights… I might have to write some angst pretty soon to reset my palette. Get any more saccharine and I’m going to end up writing Sunday school specials... 🙄 If anyone has any darker suggestions, hit me up.

Check out the Masterlist for more!

Lucifer

Wanna bet that he’s going to shower them luxury for the evening? The Avatar of Pride doesn’t settle for anything less than utterly obliterating what his competition could offer.

Spending money like Mammon if he won the lottery. Usually he’d be less flippant about price tags, but he needs to seem like he’s on top of the world tonight. His ego’s on the line after all.

Not above asking the MC if there’s any place in the world, Devildom or human, they’d like to see and just taking them there. No objections accepted. You want go to Paris? Then we dine in Paris, get your coat.

Gifts. Gifts. Gifts gifts gifts. Nice ones. Very shiny. Big gifts make them feel special and remind them of him when they see/use them. Better get that subliminal messaging started ASAP. They are his.

Engaging dining conversation, but may bring up work/Diavolo/or the Devildom more often than not. Man just can’t stop thinking like he’s on the job sometimes...

All the brothers would kill to know what happened/what was said but he forbids them from saying anything about it. The night can stay just between them.

Mammon

It is going to go wrong. Somehow, in some way, it will blow up in his face spectacularly. But this is still Mammon we’re talking about so it’s probably going to be a fun ride regardless.

Go to the casino, lose everything, and run like hell from angry employees after causing a scene? That’s on the table. Trying to have a romantic night, getting crashed by some XYZ person who he owes money to, then going through shenanigans to try and avoid them? Equally likely. Things just not working properly to catastrophic levels? Like it’s etched into fate itself. 

No matter what trouble follows this boy everywhere. You ride with him, you ought to be down for that. But if chaos is the MC’s domain or they just like to collect funny stories, it will probably be a great time! At least in hindsight, anyway.

He’s not particularly romantic, but will be generally up for doing right about anything that the MC wants to do within reason (of course, he’s a pushover too). He probably doesn’t have a plan before they go and may just wing it based on how they’re feeling and what’s available.

Considering there is no way the date will end in the same state it started, though, maybe no plan is the best plan. Just enjoy the ride.

Leviathan

Honestly lowkey thought that all those times they would play games together/watch marathons were dates so oof. Poor boy doesn’t even know how behind he is.

Once he’s aware that no, Mario Kart does not qualify as a date night, he will try to think of things that do but mostly still in or around the House.

He might suggest the kind of cheesy things he’s picked up from his mangas/dating games. He'll try them earnestly so it would still be a sweet time.

It’s going to take some insane “Love-Sex-Magic” to actually get this guy to plan a date that goes outside of his comfort zone (i.e. in the real world). He must be either head over heels or one of his brothers challenged him to pull it off. No matter what, it’s not going to be his first choice.

If he had to think of something, it would somehow be water-based because that’s the only other thing he’s going to cling to when he can’t be in his safe space.

A beach date would actually be perfect for him. He could show off his swimming skills, make a sand suclpture with them, and introduce them to Lotan! He won’t bite, er... as long as he’s around? Probably?

Satan

Want some old-fashioned romance? This is your guy. Satan sees love like it’s out of a romance novel so make of that what you will.

Ever polite and downright princely at times. You’d never know that he was the Avatar of Wrath until things just stop going to plan or some poor waiter tries to sass him...

The kind of guy to go for dates to an art gallery or an out-of-the-way coffee shop. Some place quiet where the main focus is on conversation or intellectual discussion. But, oh, he doesn’t just want to talk. He wants to learn and the subject is MC.

Won’t settle for small talk but isn’t looking for a life’s story either. He wants thoughts, opinions, and knowledge. What do they think of the Devildom? His brothers? How do things there compare to the human world? What’s it like there? Etc., etc.

If there is anything that they’re particularly skilled/knowledgeable in then he wants to know all about it. Lowkey sapiosexual vibes. Smarts are a turn on.

Would honestly be okay going to almost anywhere as long as he’s with them and can enjoy their conversation. Expect traditional romantic elements like flowers and candles, but really it’s the mind he’s after.

Asmodeus

He wants to Show. Them. Off! If they’re on a date then the world has to hear about it. He just thinks they’re that amazing!

Need help getting dressed for the occasion? He’s got them covered! He doesn’t see any issue in couples shopping, dressing, makeup… other things...

Yeah, they better keep a leash on this one or they may miss a reservation or three.

Knows all the best places in the Devildom like the back of his hand. Want to go dancing? He’s a regular at all the clubs. Want good drinks? He knows five places for that already. Great food? Babe, he’s second only to Beel in that department too!

Will spend the whole evening being very attentive and making sure they’re comfortable and having fun. The man loves seeing smiles, especially the ones he causes!

Okay. We all know where he ideally would like the date to end *cough*the bedroom*cough* but won’t pressure the matter… any more than usual. But oh would he be happy if it got there. And he’d make sure they’re happy too. 😏

Beelzebub

They’re going to eat and they’re going to eat WELL.

We’re talking a spread fit for royalty because he would totally ask Diavolo if he could borrow Barbatos for the evening. Food from the best chef in the Devildom and time alone with the MC for a night? Talk about a spot of heaven in literal Hell!

Of course, his thoughts aren’t only on his own stomach. He genuinely wants them to have a good time too.

Will probably take them to their favorite places in the Devildom or any places where they share good memories together. He wants to remind them of just how happy they make him as much as possible.

A lot of closeness the whole night: hand holding, hugs, and cuddles. It’s not for any possessive or territorial reason, he just likes having them close in that comforting sort of way.

He’s not exactly a deep conversationalist, but he’ll make up for it in actions and just the amount of heart he puts in the few things he says. Oh, he’s one of the best listeners on the planet though so the night doesn’t have to be quiet on their end.

Belphegor 

You’d think he’d be too lazy to plan a date but not so. It actually takes a lot of planning to find a way to completely ditch his brothers without any of them knowing/finding out. Even Beel has to be out of the loop.

Wherever they’re going, he wants it to be just the two of them and stay that way. It’d take just one run in with Mammon or Asmo for them to gain a tag along that Just. Won’t. Leave.

Like Satan, he prefers quieter places but that’s just because he hates being in noisy environments. He’ll go for places that may not have a lot going on, but are visually quite stunning like the botanical gardens or rooftop views.

Expect a picnic, maybe a little stargazing. He probably already knows some pretty peaceful places in the Devildom that he uses just to get some space from his brothers.

If he’s going to sleep during the date, he’ll either make sure it’s okay first or it will be an honest accident. He won’t just pass out on them to be a troll for once.

Maaay try to get them to take a nap with him. Straight up sleeping might be considered an odd date activity, but really it’s an excuse to hold them as close as he wants with no interruptions. Be careful, or he might hold them there all night.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #the fluff is reaching critical mass

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk* #jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

🌼 any of them

Whoops, wrote a fic

Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

An optimist would look at the world of divination with wonder. The universe is a but a magnificent hall of tapestries, beautiful pieces of art woven into anything you could imagine. Tapestries where you are a hero, tapestries where you are royalty, tapestries where your people live with riches, tapestries depicting your eternal victory over your enemies. The universe is endless and bountiful, for in the future, all futures are possible.

This is how Astor usually can depict the good fortune tellers from the worse.

If they’re an optimist, they’re most likely a faker.

The only true divinator that he had met that was even a bit of an optimist was his mother, and even then, he had always had the sinking feeling that she hid a deeper sorrow behind her simple shoes of colorful flames and shining moon and starlight. No, it was quite hard to stick to true, unfiltered optimism in this field, as while it was true that all futures and choices were possible, that freewill ran its course through all who walked the vast possibilities of the universe, the issue came in the fact that you could not travel it to and fro.

There are futures where you live, there are futures where you achieve your wildest dreams, timelines where your childhood is happier, and timelines where you find true love and satisfaction.

But you aren’t in those timelines. The future you have is this one, and it is set in stone.

Walk all the roads you want, say all the words, read all the stories, but when a seer analyzed exactly what world we live in, exactly what end is destined for this string of the universe, there will be no holding back. There is only the unfiltered, raw, typically pessimistic truth of the end. Savor it.

“In truth, Elane, I hate my job. Fear it, even,” Astor set his teacup down, looking out the balcony towards the inky, midnight view. “I fear one day I will find the prediction—the true, ultimate glimpse into the night, that seals in the fact that we’re doomed.”

The Queen only cocked her head with a smile. “Well, I’m flattered that there’s still a ‘we’ in this scenario. Good to know I’ll be joining you in the lockup when my mother find our contraband cucco nuggets—“

“I’m serious, Elane.”

She only laughed quietly, before leaning back in her chair, and gazing out into the pleasant evening. “I know...”

There was a quiet between them, not quite awkward or stiffening, but quiet in the way that you might hold your breath after someone embraces you warmly. Quiet in acceptance, quiet to make room for the sounds of something rare and fickle.

“I swear, I might retire early,” Astor finally said. “Quit while I’m ahead. Head off to Hateno or Mabe and bury my head in the sand.”

“You might want to try Gerudo then, if sand is what you’re searching for. I’m sure Urbosa would be thrilled.”

“Tsk. I am inclined to disagree.”

Elane chuckled again, and she let the quiet embrace her for a moment.

“Eternal doom aside, for a moment, I would posit that there’s hardly anything to fear. You’ve foreseen my daughter’s growth, analyzed the future livelihood of the kingdom, and predicted our victory over Ganon. I’d say it’s hard to bargain with that.”

“Maybe, but I could be wrong.” Astor circled his finger on the lip of his cup. “It happens, people make a prediction, but miss one star, or slip up one word...or perhaps one cow suddenly dies, or one ember quickly fades, and suddenly we’re actually in an entirely different timeline than predicted.”

“Didymos Astor? Wrong about something? Oh my, I never thought I’d see the day...” Elane smiled to herself again as she lifted her cup for another sip.

Astor clicked his tongue. “Well. You should hope I’m not wrong about anything. If someone of my skill makes an incorrect prediction, it would probably be disastrous for everyone.”

Elane winked as she set down her cup. “Well, good thing you’re a prodigy, then.”

“Good thing, indeed.”

Quiet keep their third company once again. Astor still had not sipped from his cup, but Elane was already heading for her fourth refill, no doubt begging for any energy after tucking her daughter to bed. A young toddler with enough energy to power a Guardian army, Elane has always found it quite odd that she used up a lot of her energy to annoy the Royal Seer. It was charming to see him get put off by a Mallory’s boundless curious aura, but mostly relieving in the sense that the Queen could get a moments rest and trust little Zelda would be alright.

Elane looked back inside through the half open door, and smiled at a bundled sleeping figure, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. She then turned back and finally noticed Astor’s continued silence on the next refill.

She sighed. “Although I would be saddened to see you leave,” she began, “If a retirement would make you happy, Astor, I would loathe to do anything to stand in your way.”

He looked up at her, analyzing her body language and expression. She was genuine, of course, as she always was in these sorts of talks. Astor finally let himself exhale in peace, as he smiled and shook his head.

“Unfortunately I don’t think it would do me much good, anyways. Location won’t let me escape my own thoughts and visions.” He took a sip of his tea—a bit citrusy this evening, a hint of apple—and relaxed. “I’d imagine His Majesty would miss me dearly, and I simply wouldn’t want to leave him in distress.”

“Ha! Oh yes of course, Rhoam would be crying tears if you left us...” she replied, sarcastically. “Tears of deep, deep sorrow.”

Astor looked out into the night in silence again, not touching his cup.

“But I’ll tell you what Astor,” Elane began again. “If you ever receive that world dooming prediction, whatever may happen that may instigate your view of the deepest hells,” she raised her cup. “You come find me, and we’ll have a drink.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A drink? What sort of drink?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like. Tea, wine, beer, water or juice if it’s your fancy. Whatever will keep your spirits high.”

Astor smirked, solemnly. “I don’t think you understand just how severe and dreadful certain predictions can be. When we say ‘all futures are possible,’ we do mean all possibilities.”

“And I understand, dear seer. I truly do.” She tilted her head as she kept her cup in the air. “But the way I see it, is that with divination or not, doom and hell come into people’s lives one way or the other. But it hasn’t really stopped the majority from loving their lives now, has it?” Her eyes twinkled like starlight. “Dearest Astor, if our destined doom is predicted one day, I command you to at least smile through our tea party.”

Quiet.

He finally sighed, the corners of his lips perking. His protests drowning in her expression.

“I suppose if you’re the one pouring, it’d be difficult to refuse.” He raised his cup and clinked it with hers.

She was dead eight days later.

With her death came the final factor. The final star.

“Your daughter is destined to fail us,” he said again. “The Calamity shall rise and consume us all, and she won’t stop it in time.”

Rhoam slammed his fists on the desk, but the seer did not flinch. “We’ll train her hard, we’ll start now, even! I’ll get those clerics from the temple to teach her the starting prayers!” he yelled.

“It won’t work.” Astor replied, simply. “Perhaps she might attain them down the line, but she most certainly won’t awaken her powers by Ganon’s rise. It’s over.”

“You told me we could do this!” Rhoam pointed a finger, accusingly. “You saw our prosperity, our victory!”

“That was what I initially saw, yes. But unfortunately we live in world where the Queen of Hyrule is dead, and thus the threads of our future weave accordingly.”

“You’re a liar!” Rhoam bellowed again. “You saw her death, saw our end and lied to us since the beginning, haven’t you?!!”

“Don’t you think that if I knew Elane would die, I would say something?! That I would give ample time for her to say goodbye to you and her daughter??” Astor finally raised his voice, met with equal silence. “I failed to correctly analyze our timeline the first time around, and for that I am sorry. But I can not control what pieces of the future fate allows me to see. It’s not an open novel for you to give me a bad book report grade on. It’s a museum of endless tapestries, of which I am task with analyzing one stroke at a time to identify which is woven to a singular man, and the fact that I have given you a complete enough answer now is a gift within itself, so don’t even try to accuse me forgery and lies.”

The two men clenched their jaws, staring angrily at each other.

Astor finally whispered. “Overtime I might gather more specifics, but overall—this is over.”

Rhoam balles his hand into a fist. “We’ll start a new schedule for Zelda first thing in the morning—“

“It won’t work, it’s futile—“

“We’ll make it work—“

“This is set in stone, this is the world you live in—“

“Well what if you’re wrong again?”

“I’m not.”

“But what if you are?”

“I’m. Not. I’ve read the signs again and again and again, in fact I’ve been reaching the same conclusions repeatedly for the last four weeks. It. Is set. In stone.” He tapped his finger on the wood with each syllable to emphasize. “Perhaps the futures of prosperity are accurate for the Rhoams and Mallorys that live in a different time, but unfortunately for us, we live in one where Elane is dead. This is our reality and you’re doing no good denying as such.”

Silence.

Rhoam made his way towards the door. “You’re a liar.” The seer scoffed. “You’re a liar and you don’t know what you’re saying! Borderline treason if I’m being honest! You’re pathetic, and a rotten fake—“

“If it pleases His Majesty to confirm the integrity of his humble subject,” Astor cut in, sarcastically, “It might be good to know that also I’ve predicted you won’t imprison me, or exile me, or execute me, given you’re still ever reliant on my uncontested skills for more personal matters. That, and you wish to try and keep me around to hopefully prove me wrong, in which you can then tell yourself you’d be in the right to truly punish me.” He stared the regent dead in the eyes. “But don’t worry, you won’t.”

Rhoam slammed the door shut as he stomped off.

That night, Astor has another dream. Or perhaps it was a vision, he wasn’t sure, as the details were so surreal and horrific and captivating that it would have surely been a blessing to chalk it up entirely to vivid imagination.

There were screams and the sound of rocks crumbling. Bones were cracking and monsters were squealing and shrieking. And be felt his arms burn, and he felt his soul drain, and he looked down to see his skin peeling into dark flakes, his muscles, sludge. And in the distance, a young woman with golden hair laughed at him, but her eyes were hollow and gold. And she laughed and laughed as his body was slowly broken to pieces, bones torn asunder, skin burned to smoldering malice, senses vivid until the final moment when he woke.

But the good thing about nightmares, was that...that was it. There was no where else to go. There was nothing left to offer. No more pain to fear.

It made sense of course. Of course, of course. He never went to the funeral, he never offered his sympathies. There was no longer anything to mourn, as he allowed himself to view the world in its true, disgusting form. The people were doomed, and the dead, well...perhaps they might have deserved it. Yes, that was the only way this all made sense, of course. He even stopped trying to warn other folk after a few too many dozen harsh rejections to his character. No, now in complete isolation and resignation of his path, there was nothing else that could possibly drag him back to—

“How do I die?” Zelda Mallory Hyrule asked, one day.

At first, he was confused, and he turned in his chair. “What?”

She was seven at the time, and it was truly an odd and concerning thing to be coming from a seven year old girl’s mouth. Or perhaps it wasn’t, given the circumstances.

“How do I die?” she said again. She was laying down on his worn carpet, fiddling with the frilled edge.

Was she truly that bored? Already out of other questions? Hmph, he had always warned her to stay away, as a seer’s office wasn’t really meant for childish entertainment. Yet still she always came and asked to hide away from her father, and, well...anything to spite that man...

“Why do you ask?” he finally replied. Had someone said something to her? A threat? He clenched his jaw. I swear, if that fool tried to force her powers by—

“You’re always going on about how I’m wasting my time with praying and stuff...but father says I still gotta to stop the Calamity or else we could all die.” She didn’t look up from the bits of carpet string she was playing with (and contemplating on popping in her mouth), “So I figured if you tell me how I die we can settle the debate for good!”

Astor just sighed. “Well, of course you d—“

He stopped himself, but not for the reasons a more put together person, might. Not because of the generally frowned upon action of telling a child how she dies, no, that was not exactly beyond him. No, Astor cut off his sentence simply because it had crossed his mind that—

“...I’m not entirely sure...” he whispered.

He suddenly stood. Walking towards the other end of his office, carefully stepping over the child. “E-Excuse me a moment.”

Why had he never considered this? Of course, he had seen the signs clearly enough, the visions, the stars. A girl cries over a corpse, a light vanishes in the night. Malice plagued the sky and dooms the day. But did the Calamity actually kill her? Does she drown in rubble and malice like the others? Slain by a demon or monster perhaps? Or if not, then, would that mean...?

The princess soon forgot about the question by the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next.

Astor spent nearly eight sleepless nights into finding an answer.

But he never truly did.

These things happened more times than one may think, when it came to predictions. Vagueness was commonplace, but specificities and straightforward answers were about as rare as a green sunset. Of course, he knew she would die, goddess blood or not, she lived the life of a mortal. But how? When? While it certainly wasn’t impossible to predict a person’s death, but whatever the circumstances of Mallory’s was made the process was infuriatingly impossible.

It was possible she would die of malice or suffocation under rubble, even circumstances where she dies at the Ganon’s hand himself. But then there were clear visions of her living, walking through a grassy field, ruins in the distance covered in leaves and moss, her turning and calling to a friend to keep up with her pace.

But no, nonono. She would die during the Calamity’s rise, that was the majority of what the futures offered to her were. That was the probable outcome.

But the factors and visions and signs and alignments were so fine and minuscule in difference, that Astor truly couldn’t a true statement, a true prediction, a true answer to the question. What timeline did we live in?

It taunted him.

Maybe it was better if the question was put to rest, did it even matter?

“Mallory?” he asked. “That’s a stupid name.”

“What?! No it’s not!” Elane laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Please, YOU’RE not one to talk.”

“Well as a victim of stupid first names, I think I’m qualified to speak accurately on the subject.”

“Aha! But it’s not technically a first name.” Elane tapped his head. “It’s a middle name, her first name would be ‘Zelda,’ of course.”

“Yes, and that is also a s—“

The queen shoved his shoulder into the wall before he even finished the sentence. “Oh would you shut up...”

He laughed, unconventionally carefree. Her Majesty’s happiness these days truly was contagious. Or perhaps that was a side effect of pregnancy? Did all expecting mother’s give off this aura?

“I think it’s a wonderful name.” Elane said. “Reminds me of a cute little duck, like a mallard!” She tucked her arms and flapped her elbows to imitate as such. “Quack, quack!”

“This is further adding to my argument actually”

“Hmph! Ok then Mr. Overseer of all names” She tapped a finger to his chest. “If it’s such a stupid name, then when she starts getting bullied for it around the castle, I shall expect you to take care of her in full.”

He scoffed. “Oh, I’ll be sure to do so. She’ll definitely need it.”

Elane pecked his head with a kiss.

“Good! I grant you my blessing lovingly tease her, as well. And I expect the best from you, Astor!”

His face suddenly warmed for some reason, and he couldn’t form words.

“What?”

“.....W...”

He was suddenly whack in the head with a rolled up piece of paper. Astor sprang awake from his desk. “...W...What...?”

“Morning, Mr. Astor!!” Princess Zelda-Mallory beamed. “And happy birthday!!! Sorry I woke you up early, but I needed to give this to you before the winter solstice festival later and—“

She continued to ramble on and on, but Astor simply opened the rolled up paper she had handed to him. It was simply filled with dozens and dozens, arguably hundreds, of hand drawn stars. In the corner was written, “You always look at the same stars so here’s some new ones!” in crude purple crayon. At the time, he failed to notice the accompanying note on the back that read “One for each year of how old you are!” Thankfully he was too busy looking through the different stars, with varying degrees of sparkles and smiley faces.

He finally looked back at the princess, who was still rambling on and on about her day, and her father’s day, and her newest stuffy dress, and her latest adventures with her stuffed toys, and—

“Why are you always here, Zelda?” Astor finally said. She stopped talking, looking at him, quizzically. “I mean...” he grumbled, “You know I don’t really like you, right?

“Eh, I don’t care. I think you’re neat!!” She held out her arms as she zoomed around his circular office. “Your room is so cool! And you got fun books!”

“Necromancy isn’t necessarily what I would consider ‘fun’ reading material—“

“Plus your outfits are cool, and you’re super smart, like my mom.”

He blinked.

“Plus, you’re the only one that’s not mean to me about my dumb powers. But really that’s just a chair on the top!”

“Do you mean cherry on top?”

“No! I meant chair! Watch me!! I’m gonna do a backflip off of this—“

“NO.” Astor immediately stood up, and snatched the girl off of the wooden chair. “NO. No backflips.” He set her down on the rug and pointed to a side of the room which held a broken table, stool, and a few old chairs—the victims of the princess’ previous acrobatic attempts.

She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m running out of furniture, is what I am.”

“But I’ll let this slide since it’s your birthday! Hmph.”

She started pulling at the loose threads of the carpet. “Don’t know why you had to stop my birthday backflip! Who cares if I get a little scratch?”

“I do—“

“YOU DO?!” Mallory was immediately up and clinging to his robes.

Astor sputtered, instinctively waving his arms to free himself from the child’s grip. But then he finally processed her question, and...

“I...” He looked at her starlight eyes. She had that stupid, naive grin that he always remembered from her mother. A stupid, pathetic, horrible, terrible, optimistic smile.

He finally scoffed. “I just can’t have you getting hurt on my watch, as otherwise, I’d probably be a dead man. That’s all.”

The princess lifted her hands in a “hooray!” fashion, and yelled the exclamation, accordingly. She then resumed her zipping and zooming around the room, much to Astor’s unexpected relief.

That night, he visited the question again.

Why? He didn’t really know.

The question wouldn’t offer him anything, it wouldn’t relieve him of anything—in fact it really did just the opposite. If he found that died miserably, it would be another scream in the nightmare, another nail in the comforting coffin of despair. But if he someone found that she lived, that there was a day after the Calamity, where even a child such as her could possibly prosper...

Having hope and seeing it fail anyway would probably be the most torturous of all.

Again, he had a dream, of a world tainted by blood and malice. But this time he was floating. He was floating and watching the end of it all.

Castle Town was nothing but ruins and ash, and no colors existed but red, black, and grey.

He couldn’t hear anything but a shrill hum in his ears, but he knew there was screaming. He looked to his hand, expecting to see malice or blackened skin, but instead found a strange floating device in his palm. It spin slowly, pink constellations drifting across its surface.

The hum in his ears turned into a groan, and then a whisper. It said something familiar, but he was sure he had never heard it before.

It is time.

The next night he had a dream of a girl standing in a green field, calling out to her friends somewhere behind her. She rested under the ruins of a collapsed pillar, and ate a homemade sandwich with a memorable smile.

Astor reached a conclusion.

In most futures, the girl dies horribly. He wrote in his journal. To be expected, I would assume the rise of the Calamity isn’t exactly easy to survive from.

But what I have discovered is a very specific set of circumstances that lead to a more favorable outcome, at least for her.

I have no way of knowing if it accurately depicts the comings of our time, or another. There are too many variables and specifics. Too long I have spent trying to discern our fate, but the probabilities and possibilities for doom are so interchangeable that it really go either way. The only truth I know is that she lives if—

He paused, tapping the dry quill to the desk again in thought. He dipped it once more.

I’ve decided that if I ever find myself in the scenario where I can solidify her a more favorable destiny, I will take it. I can only hope dare to alter my existing nightmare into something different, there’s really nothing left to lose, is there?

Astor leaned in his chair for a moment, savoring the silence of his office. He looked out the window and took in the night. The stars were gorgeous this evening.

Although if it fails I hope it kills me.

Call it arrogance, but I don’t think I can handle being wrong again.

The seer sighed, then suddenly flipped to the next blank page, angrily.

If I had never met her it would have been fine. If I had just minded my own damn business and continued to work in being resigned to our fate, at least then I could have—

There was a soft knock at his door.

He knew who it was.

Astor pinched the bridge of his nose as he opened it. “It’s past 2am, Princess, what could you possibly have to tell me?”

She looked down and shuffled her feet. “I had a nightmare...”

“Yes, people do have those sometimes.” He immediately closed the door.

Another knock.

After a moment, Astor opened it again. “Don’t you have guards outside your room, how did you sneak up here?”

“Secret tunnel!” She grinned, proudly, as she replied with a sort of sing-song tone.

“That’s nice.”

The door slammed shut again.

She knocked once more. There was the longest pause.

“FFFFFFine!” The world was out of his lips before he even fully swung open the door, and Mallory happily scrambled inside. “But no touching anything, I’m working.”

“It’s ok, I just wanna stay up all night and read your books!” She was already scrambling for the necromancy section, again.

Astor sighed, and went to slump back into his desk. The princess was already sprawled across the floor, distracting herself with another stack of wondrous, ill-recommended book. He didn’t really care.

I don’t really care. He wrote once again. I know there are futures where I dedicate myself to the Calamity, and she dies anyway. I know it doesn’t really matter, I know it’s hopeless to care, and that’s why I don’t.

He looked back at Zelda, he saw her slowly blink back her tiredness. He knew in a few hours or so, he’d have to drop her sleepy figure back off to those useless guards, and berate then for letting her wander off again, as it always was.

If I do this and it’s all for nothing, he began, I fear it will be worse than if I had just stood to the side and perished. It’s already doomed, and this pathetic, foolish optimism might cause me to turn this nightmare into something even worse.

He sighed, and the hours passed as he just sat with his thoughts.

Zelda was using and open book as a pillow.

Astor opened the door, and went to pick her up.

I’m not living through another nightmare. He thought, as he descended the stairs from the observatory. The girl’s breathing was steady as she wrapped an arm by his shoulder.

If it fails I hope it kills me before I see it. He repeated again.

I can’t handle being wrong again.

#Didymos Astor #out of character #oc ask game #I’m actually really proud of this I might shove it into canon story one day

[teaandatale]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @geekynerddemon who so lovingly wished for me to finish Layer on Layer. And though I haven’t been able to do so, I thought I would whet your appetite with a preview of Part 1 of my 2 Part Epilogue.

Please note this is a rough draft & subject to thorough revisions when I get the writing muse under control again.

Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE

“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.

Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.

The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.

After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.

Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.

Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”

“We’re not living together.”

The yet goes without saying.

She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”

“This morning,” he said defensively.

She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.

“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”

“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s good.”

They say down in the living room together chatting.

“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”

“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”

“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”

“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”

He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”

“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”

“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”

“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”

Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.

She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.

He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.

“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”

“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”

He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.

“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”

He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.

They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

#geekynerddemon #steggy #my fic #I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the whole thing #may has been kicking my ass #also doing this on tumblr mobile was not fun #happy birthday friend!!

[hysteriapilled]

- 𝙰 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙽 𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽 𝙹𝙰𝙴𝙶𝙴𝚁'𝚂 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙸 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙾

Keep in mind that this might be inaccurate considering the information given is not canon, but from google. There will be no house readings since I can't even get a hold of his actual birth time so there is no rising sign (This is Eren's chart and how he would be if he were real, so don't take everything as factual)

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Big 5 Analysis

- SUN IN ARIES. Your sun defines your ego, core identity, your authentic self and in my personal opinion it's not really an important placement in the chart, and more of a title basically. People born into Aries are usually perceived as loud, impulsive, raging and aggressive by others— but they're very caring and protective to the ones they love, though sometimes they sure can have bursts of anger. Eren is stubborn, he can't be chained down and refuses to sit back and watch the people he cares about get tossed around. He is a firm person, quick on his feet and rather very rushing, he's like a puppy excited to get his owner running laps around him, he's hyper and motivating; a natural leader. - MOON IN PISCES. Your moon is your emotional side, how you feel, how you perceive feelings and how you process them. Eren with moon in Pisces is definitely not surprising to me— He is dreamy, intuitive, compassionate and he's either too dependable on others or just an overthinker. Though he may not seem like it Eren is very vulnerable and even prone to getting addicted to substances (alcohol, drugs, bad habits etc.) It's not the best placement in my standpoint, as he can get very affected by his surroundings and others. He can't turn a blind eye and NOT take shit to heart and rather stores it inside and holds onto it. He's very empathetic, he feels people's emotions and feels them well, to the point that he himself experiences what they are going through. - MERCURY IN PISCES. Eren has a LOT of Pisces placements so prepare to see a ton of empathy and psychic abilities in his aspects. Your Mercury is how you think, speak and learn. I sense that Eren has really great vulnerability which might not be a good thing, he trusts people too much and rather relies on them for heaps of things, he can be easily manipulated which is why he should refrain from letting everyone in. On the other hand, he is a very dreamy person and gets lost in his imagination at times. He sees the world in another, imaginative lens, and often could find himself daydreaming randomly. I can see that Eren has a hard time letting go of the past and he can even be linked to people in his life he hadn't seen in years. In terms of rational thinking he isn't the best, as he can't distinguish the logical from the emotional which is definitely something he should work on, he gets often blinded by the illusion of his overwhelming emotions toward others. He can also definitely have an eye to art since his imagination is extravagantly wide.

- VENUS IN TAURUS. Your mercury is your idea of love and how you give it and prefer to receive it— Eren's idea of romance is full of sensuality and gifts, he'll spoil you with his utter loyalty and generally with things too. Devotion is daily, he's extremely honest and would rather die than lie to you. Emphasis on sensuality, Eren craves touch and I could sense that his love language is physical touch, he will shower you with affection and fulfill your needs any time of the day. Taurus in Venus are all about comfort and coziness with their lover, so I can see that Eren loves cuddling, massages, food, sleepovers, intimate little things like that strike a chord in his heart. He can be possessive and jealous of times, he hates change specifically big ones in relationships—He can also take a long time to get to know you and prefers taking things slow and steady rather than rushing into it. I can also feel that he loves hard-workers, people who are dedicated and responsible (that's definitely his type). - MARS IN CAPRICORN. Two words. Goal driven. Your Mars is your approach towards anger and impulses as well as your sexuality aspects. Eren is self-controlled and refuses to take orders from others, he can't be chained down not because he's stubborn, but simply because he can't allow himself to stop. He has a tendency to shut out the world to pursue his objective— he moves forward (not a pun) and is willing to fight against everything and everyone to reach his goal, he isn't petty as he considers little quarrels a waste of time and energy. He likes to focus on the big problem at hand, not how to fight and win the battle but how to prepare for conquering the war once and for all. Eren with this placement knows that he is entitled to earn what he works hard for and will not let anything stop him. Mars signs can also affect appearance so I sense that Eren has very prominent and broad cheekbones, a serious face, and a very stiff, steady voice like he's about to command something. It can also be an intimate, velvety and cold voice and on the topic of intimacy— He usually prefers seeing you face to face and rather dislikes social media flings. He comes with a natural inclination to assume a dominant role in bed and he does what doesn't bother him (kink-wise) His temper is so icy, and he could definitely be on the sadomasochism spectrum. He's very soft in nature so if something was bothering you he'd instantly be turned off. Eren can be aggressive and intense but he may not specifically get off on pain (or he may) more like he finds the idea of being in control a very satisfying idea.

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅

2. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune & Pluto Analysis

- JUPITER IN AQUARIUS. Your Jupiter is where you can receive the most luck and love, without you really doing much. It’s where you can catapult to happiness and success through quickest routes possible, within reason. I can tell from previous placements that Eren is a firm believer in standing for what you think is right. He is very opinionated and sometimes a bit too much— Some of his beliefs or theories can be brilliant and genius and others quite nonsensical and implausible, he rushes into throwing the first opinion just for the sake of throwing it first. Any analytical work about objective themes would come easily to him. Passion and enthusiasm will come astonishingly fast too as he can actually stun society with his innate knowledge with complicated subjects. Any scientific, technological, or perhaps just general abstract topics will benefit Eren greatly in subtle and/or unsubtle ways. He takes leaps of faith and believes what his eyes cannot see or what his mind cannot grasp. Simply what makes everything work out so well for him is the open minded love he puts into his theories. Sometimes though, he fears judgement people give to his methods as they are sometimes out of the box and peculiar. Eren would have to let go of his attachment to what other people think about his ways on solving or analyzing. - SATURN IN LIBRA. Your Saturn sign is your life’s obstacles and challenges, the rewards that come with time, and the discipline you need to achieve your goals. To start off with friendships, Eren cares about others and is tireless in serving others—he's also prone to putting others before him (others as in the people he cares about) And supporting his moon and mercury Pisces, he is very artistic and helps civilize those who need the lessons. The companionship he seeks can often give him solace and security, with his comrades support he feels a lot more powerful and in self-control. In relationships though Eren may tend to have a bit of an inferiority complex when it comes to relationships and is afraid of rejection & may try to shut himself away or run if the going gets tough. He is very drawn to mentor types, and may often be with someone older and wiser. Despite that he still finds a way to assume the dominant role in the relationship due to his cold nature. Eren commits to artful projects, making it possible to live his dreams by seeing them to completion, he finds it very gratifying and has mental discipline when he finds activities that matches his high ideals. His sense of social justice is heightened, that could get him into law, politics and activism—His firm belief in himself also plays a big role in this, his bravery allows himself to sacrifice whatever he has to, to get the job done. Chaos, crassness, and ugliness can cause him a lot of anxiety and fear, and with his persistence to right the wrong he gets really frustrated when people don't have an outlook to life the same as his. I sense that it may be hard for Eren to accept that only he is able to control himself, and it's a hard pill for him to swallow.

- URANUS IN PISCES. As I mentioned before Eren's chart is dominated with Pisces placements, his intuition works at another wavelength than that of the common people, and for this reason, he is in a much deeper connection to the spirit world. He can sense the occult and this acts as a form of guidance for him, an anchor to support his meanderings through life’s challenges. Pair that up with his splendid imagination and innovative spirit, and you get someone who’s afraid of failure even when he’s not doing anything out of the ordinary, the worst thing that could happen to Eren is failing and losing his sense of validation. He’s a negativist ( I can see Eren as a cynical person later on in life, a realist would fit his philosophical belief) but, he should let his intuition and connection to the spirit world heal this part of his, instead of allowing everything to work against him. He won’t let himself be fooled by naïve ideals, even though he likes believing in them. He can be quite realistic and logical when the situation calls for it and that's quite ironic considering he's indulged in his imagination most of the time. - NEPTUNE IN SAGITTARIUS. This is one hell of a placement. Experimentation with different beliefs, spiritual strands, and esoteric-based teachings are all things Eren finds interest in. He cannot deny the divine existence truly and indefinitely to himself- even if he does so to others, there is always the gnawing sense that ‘there is something more,’ and one day he may regret not finding out what that is. His gift is bringing the joy of shared faith and spirituality together, making the sect he resonates with part of his life’s philosophy. We can tell by now that Eren's purpose is seeking truth, absorbing information and looking at the world in a different lens. - PLUTO IN PISCES. Shawty Bae here can also can be more passive aggressive when trying to get what he wants. This means he can be manipulative at times. This is the only time he ever makes a power play. When he is struggling to achieve something for the greater good. (THIS ACTUALLY RESONATES WITH HIS PLAN) But this desire for control is never executed maliciously. He wants things to go his way so he doesn't disappoint those who are counting on him. Eren can be very sensitive, and it’s important to him that he doesn't let anyone down. He so desperately want to help people that he sometimes sacrifices his health and well being, and even somtimes the well being of others just for the outcome to turn out best.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘

3. Chiron (Scar)

- CHIRON IN PISCES. Your Chiron sign in astrology shows where you sustained your deepest wound, your scar— It can never be completely healed, but they can be worked with and transmuted. Eren with Chiron in Pisces, we've already talked about many Pisces qualities in him (empathy, psychic abilities, imagination etc.) But the Chiron has a lot more depth into it, Eren might have a deep fear of being hurt by the universe or the forces at play. He might feel that the world is unfair or merciless and doesn't have his back almost every time. He has a sense of betrayal, and that leads him into cynicism (mentioned before in his Uranus placement) He felt that nobody was there for him when he needed it the most and he also feels a sense of victimization. This placement has a lot to do with the idea of FATE. Even subconsciously Eren feels he was dealt an unfair life, I can also feel that his way of coping is feeling someones grief right alongside them. Sympathyzing is definitely his way of forgetting about his own problems. Even though Eren doesn't exactly victimize himself he still can't understand why the universe is set up this way— he feels that the world isn't fair to him and his loved ones. Although all this scarring shows when he indulges himself in an immense shell of cynicism, then he hops between two places; Not feeling empathy for others since nobody offered empathy to him - or sympathyzing greatly and putting others' needs before his. It is easy for him to shut his feelings out but only with the help of substances which makes him more prone to getting addicted. This placement was created at some point in the past when Eren needed something badly and didn’t get it (sometimes the wound stems from a past life, but this stemmed from his childhood) Maybe it's because he felt insignificant to someone he felt was an idol to him, maybe this figure or idol was never there to nurture him and the probability of him having a lost close one in early childhood days is a very probable cause in how this Chiron stemmed.

BONUS:

- I get massive ISFP vibes from early Eren and INTJ from late him.

- His Venus Taurus makes him very romantic, so I feel like this would be his favorite song to dance to

#erenjaeger #eren #jaeger #snk #aot #shingekinokyojin #attackontitan #astrology chart #chart reading #sun #moon #rising #aries #pisces