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cleverthylacine · 10 days

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Netflix's bastardisation of Three-Body

Oh yeah. I haven't said anything about this. Probably because I've been screaming at people on reddit about it for weeks.

Extensive spoilers below of why you don't want to watch this show if you like the books and should watch the C-drama by Tencent Pictures instead. If you like both you can have fun screaming at this show except that after about 4 episodes even that stops being fun.

The first problem with this show is that they decided to set it in mostly England instead of mostly China, and then cleverly made most of the main characters nonwhite as well as non-Chinese, so that they could point at that as evidence that they're not racist for turning a book set in China with mostly Chinese characters into a show set in England with mostly characters who grew up in the global west (even Cheng Jin/Xin has been raised in New Zealand).

The second problem with this show is that they're adapting a trilogy of 500+ page books and they shoved the first book into 5 episodes and the first part of the second book into 3 episodes. A lot of important and interesting material got cut.

The third problem with this show is that the main character of the novel and the C-Drama is Wang Miao, who is a very sensitive, nonjudgemental and caring male character, the kind of male MC we rarely get. He's also a good husband and father and he's adorable with his daughter. Wang Miao is able to make many connections between people and information because he is able to listen to people, even when he knows they're dangerous, with empathy and refrain from judging them at least until they've finished telling him the stuff that he actually wanted and needed to know.

The character they replaced him with is argumentative, judgemental, and angry. Auggie frequently storms out of conversations with key people in the story in high moral dudgeon without having learned a thing.

Cleverly, they made her female, so that anyone who dares criticise her for being generally terrible is hit with accusations of Skylar White syndrome and being unable to handle angry WOC.

The fourth problem is that they changed the relationship between Mike Evans and Ye Wenjie and in so doing obliterated the internal conflict within the Earth-Trisolaran organisation.

Ye Wenjie is significantly older than Mike Evans and serves as a mentor and sympathetic ear to him while he's in China. She already has had her daughter by her late husband.

in the English show she's his lover and it's gross. I am not even someone who generally objects to age gaps in fiction or even reality as long as everyone's an adult, but this is gross. For one thing, Evans is obviously mentally ill and vulnerable. He becomes the father of her daughter. They then obliterate the faction war that started between Wenjie and Evans. This is important and awful because Wenjie's faction wants aliens to come to Earth and save us from our own idiocy. Evans' faction is anti-human and wants the aliens to come to Earth and save the planet from humans. (Why he thinks they will preserve the animals he values more than people, I don't know. These aliens are fucking ruthless.)

The result of this is that they portray the secretive and malevolent eco-terrorist Evans as a cute elderly space-obsessed grandpa surrounded by little kids that his antinatalist ass would have never supported his followers having (and that anyone who followed him would never have.)

The upshot of this is that we get to see dead children's severed limbs after Our Heroes retrieve crucial information. And we don't know that it is crucial information because they have Wenjie in custody and it is therefore not clear that Evans has been talking to the aliens, they no longer talk to Wenjie, and what they're trying to take is the records of all the conversations Evans had with the aliens, which could maybe be important if you wanted to know in advance how bad the aliens are and what they are planning to do.

I don't want to see murdered children. There is enough of that on the news, thanks. It's an emotionally manipulative choice on the part of the writers. It does make Auggie's worst temper tantrum understandable, but if they had made her the kind of character Wang Miao was, that wouldn't have been necessary. Wang Miao did object to all the adults-only carnage, but he also was able to understand that there were plot-related reasons all those grown-ass ecoterrorist assholes had to die.

So now everyone who thinks Auggie is a rotten replacement for Wang Miao is not only a misogynist but pro-murdered children. And the neckbeards who actually haven't studied cults are all like "of course they put kids on the boat! a cult should have kids!" because they're not aware that there are cults other than the FLDS and the Branch Davidians. Aside from the ecoterrorism aspect, the recent cult that Evans' group is most like is Heaven's Gate, who were so anti-sex and anti-breeding that some of them castrated themselves.

They also added a white male character who was rich. Sadly, he was hilarious and entertaining in a very Seth Rogan/James Franco kinda way, so of course he was one of the first main characters to die.

The usual suspects are claiming that the adaptation was fucked up by "wokeness". I don't believe that, but I do wonder exactly why the extreme environmentalist/animal rights/super vegan/anti-natalist/anti-human bad guys were written out of the story.

Because climate change is important and the environment is important and we really have to fix it. We really do. But all good movements have their dangerous fringe people, and people who would do what Mike Evans did in the books exist. For instance, there were animal liberationists who let prion infected squirrels loose 20 years ago and suddenly now in Appalachia, where poor people hunt squirrel, we have an epidemic of prion-related dementia.

(And those of you who read me regularly and know that I've worked in medical research schools most of my life know that I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate these kinds of "environmentalists" so yeah I'm a little bit mad that I didn't get to see Evans die horribly lmao.)

In other words: this show is so bad that it actually makes me contemplate right-wing Hollywood conspiracy theories for a hot second before dismissing them.

They also added a lot more explosions and a lot more interpersonal drama, because that's what Americans like. Yeah fuck you Netflix.

#three-body #three-body problem #don't read if you like the netflix show though #I'm not trying to start fights just vent #and I hated it

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sunshinecherryblossom · 11 months

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Well... i finished to watch the first 50 episodes and i can say only this:

"I can’t watch Boruto.

And I’m never going to be able to. First: the fact that the academy children are chunin level. It doesn’t make their power ups interesting and you aren’t surprised by anything they do. Defeating jounin level ninjas with one blow as an academy student is unheard of and quite frankly it doesn’t make anything worthwhile. It sucks seeing people praise that the new generation is surpassing the old one so quickly, so soon, so young. What is there to be proud of in that? I don’t really understand how you could praise the fact that children are this powerful due to heritage. It’s basically cheating. It’s the equivalent of why everyone disliked Sasuke due to his literal genes. Everyone who goes after him always comments how lucky he was to be born a Uchiha. He was legendary for his genes alone but that isn’t what made him a Godly ninja. He trained himself to become that strong, he was just luckily gifted with Uchiha genes, but Sasuke still trained his body to endure different change in chakra natures and learned taijutsu and adapted to different fighting styles and combat.

Boruto is using three different chakra natures when a jounin has been said to only adapt to two? The idiocy. It’s ridiculous. It’s not even about outshining the old generation anymore it’s about making the old generation look as kitten and incompetent as possible now.

People are starting to say that Boruto’s team would pass the Bell Test with flying colors in this day and age–do any of you realize that Bell Test was revolutionary for not only team work but hard work? kitten would it look like having these twelve year olds basically slit their sensei’s neck to retrieve bells in this day and age? The old Naruto had feeling because they worked hard for every achievement and teamwork aside, they used what little knowledge and training they had. The Next Generation kids seem to be able to snap their fingers and hurricanes and tsnuamis happen. A child that’s half a Hyuuga can use a gentle fist better than his own mother at her age and she’s full blooded Hyuuga. Also on top of that let’s not forget that Boruto hasn’t trained for that technique, he’s just gifted, as they say. They are comparing the Jougan to Naruto’s Kyuubi–what even? First of all a jinchuuriki and special prowess are not and never will be in the same realm.

This show continues to anger me as it goes on. It’s utter trash. Also not to mention the villains are weak minded as hell. Everything is being rehashed and in the worst possible way, too. It’s not interesting, there are no build ups only cliff hangers because they manage to work you up for an entire episode of just dialogue only just when things are about to somewhat hold your attention the episode ends (I see they are taking points from DBZ with that set up) but it makes the fights less anticipated and worthwhile

Second: Naruto and Orochimaru are friends now???? Wtf??! Oh yes, wait, Orochimaru has helped him during the 4th ninja war so he is justified or not?? Ok let's see:

Yeah it's not like Orochimaru did anything wrong in the first place.

-Perform illegal experiments on people

-Became a missing-nin (S rank criminal)

-Killed the Third Hokage

-Attempted to kill Tsunade when she was a candidate to become the Fifth Hokage.

-Killed the Fourth Kazekage (Gaara's father even if he was an a*hole)

-Invaded Konoha.

-Threatened Tsunade that he will destroy the leaf village.

-Joined Akatsuki.

In the end all he got from Naruto was a pat on the back and some talk no jutsu and he was pardoned from all of his crimes. Now he's still performing the same illegal experiments on children UNDER the new Hokage's orders. Great job Naruto Hokage of the year folks 💀💀🙄🙄

#anti boruto #anti naruto naruto ending #anti naruto fandom

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itsm3m00n · 7 months

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Gasp if this is too personal you can ignore me but you're in a relationship? What kind, who, when, how, are they as wonderful as you also do you have any cool stories about them or a past relationship omigosh spill.

its funny, because me and my partner literally have a whole backstory and i am about to unleash it upon you

Let me tell you The Story Of Space Potato

a long, long time ago, i was seven years old, and taking swim lessons at my local YMCA. in my class, was a kid who we'll call Kase (the german word for cheese) Kase and i were like every other seven year old who was put in a close vicinity with another their age, and quickly became friends.

while we took these brief YMCA swim lessons, the two of us played a game we dubbed "Space Potato" which is where you stand in the shallow end, jump up, curl into a ball and bob around like a, well, potato.

that swim practice session ended, and just like you do with all other playground friends, i completely forgot about Kase's existence.

flash forward a few years later and i graduated from YMCA swim lessons onto an actual swim team. now, this was funny because my mother was extremely excited to tell me that Kase's younger sibling, Krankenhaus, was on the swim team as well.

i remember my mother said to me, "do you remember Krankenhaus? they did swim lessons at the YMCA with you!" and so forth.

i had quite literally never heard of Krankenhaus before in my life.

however, when i came to practice on the first day, i was in a lane (lane 2) with several people, one of which was my classmate. we all got along fairly well, being fourth grade females.

one of the children in my lane introduced themselves to me as Kase. we werent the closest in our lane, but we were what the children nowadays refer to as "homies"

a good few practices in, and one day i say to Kase, "hey, want me to show you this thing i came up with called space potato?"

Kase's reaction was something like "broh i made that up" and suddenly we remembered the swim lessons at the YMCA.

the year progressed, and Kase and i were slightly closer than before, but not really at "close friend" level. we would talk during practice, and at meets, but it never really meant anything.

quite some time later (like a lot of years) and it was the end of the swim season, and Kase asked for my number. this is a normal thing to do, as we were friends and wanted to communicate.

i remember literally one of the first texts Kase send me was a gif of Pink Fluffy Unicorns Dancing On Rainbows, which really got us off on the right foot.

swim years came and went, and i was trying to figure out what my next school would be, as i had graduated. Kase was going to go to a school their mother worked at, and told me that i should apply.

i applied to Kase's school, got in, and chose it over my other two options, a horse girl school and a bunch of barns.

now the summer before i would go to this new school, i was at a theater camp doing stage tech and set design, it was a week long camp and i remember distinctly that on tuesday night, me and Kase were texting, as people do.

now i had been questioning my feelings for about a month now, because i was unfamiliar with the special condition known as Not Straight that i was dealing with.

on this tuesday night, we were chatting about random things. the two if us have a lot in common, we had read the same books, liked to draw, so on. and in a moment of idiocy, i texted something sort of like "brooo are we like soulmates?"

and then immediately regretted it because like actually who says that

but this moment of panic grew to extremes when i got no reply. i stared at my phone screen, not even the three dots showed up. i actually almost cried.

turning my phone off, i pulled a blanket over my head to wallow in my own self pity. desperate, i opened my messages and lo and behold, there were several texts, the last few being things like "where did you go?" and "did you like die or something"

turns out my FUCKING PHONE didnt send the messages through at the most horrible moment possible.

the funny thing is, the conversation turned from being best friends roommates (oof) to us spamming the word "mooses"

we also signed a soulmates contract.

however, this is not the actual story of how we got together. i might write a part two later, but my fingers are tired of typing

To Be Continued

#m00n's asks

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uefb · 1 year

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A Home by the Sea x

Summary: Love isn't enough to keep a relationship alive, especially in the darkness of war, fear, and atrocity. And moving on--particularly as parents--requires more strength than anyone is given proper credit for. (Newt & Tina over the years, in England and America, and their children. // With attention to memory, individual & cultural trauma, and mental health.)

Excerpt:

Tina kept her memories from childhood in two letterboxes under their bed.

Newt kept his at the bottom of a drawer of mismatched socks in the basement.

Both were studded with different types of sorrows, and joy:

Newt had gone quiet when Tina first showed him her parents’ funeral program, a portrait of the family centered on the cover dated 1909, Tina’s dark eyes young and bright as she glanced up at the gentle curve of her mother’s kind lips.

He’d pressed a hand against her knee as he read through Queenie’s guardianship papers, that thing she’d fought for so hard in court, all alone apart from Lally, when she was just 17—

(Had smiled brilliantly to watch her in a photograph, standing straight-backed and proud in a group of twelve men, beneath the label ‘MACUSA Auror Training Program: 1922 Graduating Class’.)

In turn, Tina had bit her lip when Newt handed over his first discharge papers from the St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward (1903-12-11: unusual variety of intermittent idiocy unaffected by corrective spell or potion - incurable’), yellowed by age and ill-handled.

She’d hmmed in sympathy as she skimmed his report of the incident that shut down his unit and killed a half-dozen dragons and their caretakers when he’d just turned twenty—

(Had grinned to find his fourth-year photo with an herbology award from school. Lovingly framed by his mother even after his expulsion, she’d kept it on her wall until the day that she died.)

(And so Newt took that photo of Tina’s auror graduation and hung it on the wall by their marriage certificate. And Tina subsequently dusted off Newt’s framed childhood award and hung it right below them both, which made him roll his eyes, but press a kiss to her cheek, run a thumb across her lips, smile.)

#tina goldstein #newt scamander #my stuff #fic: a home by the sea #mind the content warnings #fantastic beasts fanfic #jewish tina goldstein #autistic Newt Scamander #newtina #theseus scamander #lally hicks

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avatarskywalker78 · 2 years

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It’s been AGES since I’ve done one of these, so I’m going to be recommending FIVE today!! The first is one of the first Flash fics I ever read - The Current Always Corrects Itself by BetaArtemis AKA @captainpikeachu - written just after S1 finished and therefore slightly AU by having Ronnie still alive, it focuses on four people’s POVs during Eddie’s funeral - Barry, Iris, Joe...and Eddie’s younger brother, Malcolm. An exploration of grief and regret...and in the end, how the timeline might not be so changed after all.

The second is How to Court A Fool in Under Three Months by snowyrunes, a slowburn WrightWorth sparked by Miles Edgeworth overhearing Trucy give an ultimatum to her Dad - if he doesn’t find a date within three months, he has to go out with the person she’s chosen for him. Miles asks Franziska for advice and it all goes on from there. It is one of the most heartfelt and funny fics I’ve ever read and the idiocy of the main two is astounding but it’s very well written and a fantastic read.

The third is A Reflection of Starlight by @autumngracy - recommended to me by a friend and it remains one of THE best fics EVER. A Valjean/Javert fic that explores their extremely complicated relationship with each other after Valjean saves Javert from his suicide attempt. There’s plenty of hurt/comfort - some utterly heartwrenching moments - and it’s MORE of a slow burn and it’s well worth the wait and each character is written so well and I love it so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The fourth is To Mingle With The Human Race by Hekate1308, an Endeavour AU where Morse is Fred’s son - Morse finds out, keeps it a secret, but then a near death experience leads to the truth, and Morse is promptly adopted by the Thursdays. A heartwarming fic, with the AU elements are skillfully woven into canon and the family scenes are all so lovely!!!!!

And the fifth is four significant factors by @wildenessat221b - a short ‘Crowley Saves Kids from the Flood” fic from Aziraphale’s point of view as he questions everything - while Crowley takes action. An excellent read, as are the rest of her stories!!!!!!!

#Fic Back Friday #The Flash #Ace Attorney #Les Miserables #Endeavour #Good Omens #Other people's awesome fanfiction

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bintiboutique81 · 3 months

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The Luxurious Lumiere Wrap Dress

Indulge in the timelessness of wrap dresses and embrace a style choice that transcends fleeting trends. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the charm and flexibility of the iconic silhouette and provide valuable styling suggestions for effortless day-to-night transitions.

Wear the lumiere wrap dress with comfortable flat sandals or sneakers to achieve a casual chic aesthetic. Add a woven tote bag and delicate jewelry to finish your look.

Aurore

Stylish maxi dress featuring a romantic wrap style, delicate lace trims and a soft and flowing silhouette. Pair with strappy heels or sandals and a mini bag for a glamorous look.

Lena, Aaron and Kevin are three American filmmakers who travel to rural Quebec to investigate the true story of 10-year-old Aurore Gagnon, a girl who died as a result of heinous child abuse in 1920. The film begins with their arrival, where they witness a series of bone-chilling paranormal events that lead them to try to communicate with the ghost of Aurore.

As if that weren’t enough, the three visitors stick their noses in places they don’t belong, leading to the town residents viewing them as cultural interlopers. This is particularly clear when they visit the local grocery store, where Kevin and Aaron behave in obnoxious fashion by gawking at every food item that they don’t recognize. Lena tries to keep them from making too much of a fuss, but it’s difficult. She’s a likeable character who’s not afraid to make her own mistakes.

Lana

If Lana Del Rey were a Spice Girl she’d be Literary Spice. Over her ten years in the public eye she’s made it pretty clear she’s a big reader – from Nabokov to Bukowski to Beat poetry and the clack of an 808 hi-hat. She’s a Sylvia Plath for the post-tumblr age, a nightgown-clad Walt Whitman of our times.

Her fourth album ’Lust for Life’ is notable in two ways compared to her previous work. For one thing, it’s her first album to feature collaborations – with the likes of The Weeknd, A$AP Rocky and Playboi Carti lending their voices.

Another thing is that this record seems to signal a new direction for her music. It’s less otherworldly than her previous works – more ourworldly, really – and as such it has a more introspective feel to it. Almost as though she’s at the end of an era, questioning her legacy and her relevance, but not without hope. Her most genuinely unguarded record yet. Stylish and timeless, this high-neck maxi dress is made from Oseree’s Lumiere fabric woven with fine metallic threads for a unique shimmer finish.

Charlotte

Charlotte is the older sister of Alison DiLaurentis and the biological cousin of Jason DiLaurentis. She is a very attractive young woman with blonde hair, blue eyes and an oval-shaped face. She is very feminine and wears lots of jewelry. She often styles her hair in bounced curls or waves. She is sassy and confident, and is not afraid to speak her mind.

She is a smart and cunning young girl who grew up at Radley Sanitarium. She was able to escape from Radley by lying and using her intelligence to get what she wanted. She also enjoyed causing chaos for the people around her, especially those closest to her.

She first met Aria Montgomery while under the alias of CeCe Drake, the former best friend of Alison. She was impressed by the way Aria was able to keep her secrets and use her power as a social climber. They became friends and a lot of things happened between them.

Serenity

In a month full of fumbled efforts based on perfectly serviceable ideas, Serenity stands out as a magnificently terrible movie. Its pleasures, like its off-kilter charm, its idiocy, and its brilliant casting, are hard to pin down, but they are there. It's the rare January movie that dares to be as bold and unrelentingly strange as it is, and its results are so wildly off-kilter and disorienting they make the whole enterprise worth seeing.

Matthew McConaughey stars as Baker Dill, a shirtless fishing boat captain obsessed with catching a huge fish that seems to be following him everywhere. The movie operates on a wavelength all its own, from its intense beginnings to its what-the-heck-was-that mid-film twist to its defiantly sentimental finale. Serenity is one of those movies that you see, then spend the rest of your life leaning back in a theater, staring at the ceiling. It's the kind of film that makes you want to hire a set of speakers so you can hear it better. And so you can tell your friends that you saw it first.

Ava

Once loaded with connotations of exoticism and movie-star glamor, Ava now ranks annually among America's most popular girls' names. Unfortunately, Tate Taylor's female-starring shoot 'em up bears this very same name and doesn't quite know how to shake the reputation off.

Jessica Chastain delivers her finest performance as a professional hit woman with an eerily familiar face and manner. Ava's backstory spouts out in convenient montage mode: a gifted student who went off the rails with booze and drugs; a rehab stint; and then a hazily defined black-ops recruitment under the caustic mentorship of Duke (John Malkovich).

Once we establish that Ava is your cliched indestructible contract killer, she starts to show signs of being just a little bit human by questioning why her target was marked for death - something all professional assassins must be curious about at one time or another. But as soon as the film reverts to formulaic action sequences, we're right back in the same old carapace. The climactic nightclub fight feels like it's going to break new ground but ends up merely rehashing genre conventions.

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

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FATWS Series Masterlist

PAIRING: BUCKY BARNES X AVENGER!READER

!TAGLIST IS CLOSED FOR THIS SERIES!

!FATWS SPOILERS AHEAD: READ WITH CAUTION!

Series based on the Show - updates every Friday as new episodes come out!

Series Warnings: !SPOILERS!, Lots of Angst, Fluff, Some Idiocy, Cursing, Slow-Burn (I'm sorry, it was an accident!)

*Please don't repost this anywhere! Especially without my permission! I've worked hard on this and these characters are very dear to me so please don't repost! Thank you to everyone who helped with the scare I just had! I just started posting my work this year so I'm new to that kind of thing! *

1) His Only Contact - Takes place after Episode 1; Angst and Fluff, phone call between Reader and Bucky; Bucky’s Perspective (Also written for HBC’s Lucky in Love, Day 19 Prompt: Odds)

2) Not Your Captain - Takes place right before Episode 2; Lots of Angst and feelings between Reader and Bucky; Reader’s Perspective

3) Inner Conflict - Takes place during Episode 2; a little more action packed and scene-for-scene of the show than the previous two parts; Reader’s Perspective

3.5) Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears - Second Half of Inner Conflict; loads of Angst!; the Couples Therapy Scene; Reader’s Perspective

4) In Need of a Breath - First Part of the Third Episode; Zemo’s Entrance; Reader’s Perspective

4.2) Suits, Dress, and Heels - Second Part of the Third Episode; First Half of Madripoor; Sharon’s Entrance; Reader’s Perspective

4.3) It’s All in the Perspective - Third and Final Part of the Third Episode; Second half of Madripoor; Mainly Reader’s Perspective

5) Right From Left - First Part of the Fourth Episode; First little bit in Latvia before Walker comes in; Reader’s Perspective

5.2) The Shield - Second and Final Part of the Fourth episode; Walker, Karli, Zemo, Everything; Proceed with Caution on This One; Reader’s Perspective

6) It Always Ends in a Fight - Very First Part of the Fifth episode; Warehouse Fighting Scene; Reader’s Perspective

6.2) Windows Down, Music Up - Second Part of the Fifth Episode; Doesn’t Have Much of the Actual Show in it Besides Zemo Getting Arrested; Reader’s Perspective

6.3) The Conversation - Third and Final Part of the Fifth Episode; Feelings and Fluff; Louisiana Scenes; Mostly Reader’s Perspective

7) Home - The Only Part of Episode Six; The FINALE; Reader’s Perspective

One Shots of Reader’s Backstory - NOT BUCKY X READER

It’s more Avengers x Reader with a heavy emphasis on Steve x Reader, but it’s platonic! I'm gonna try to do it chronologically.

Read Series Before!

One Shot #1: Back to the Beginning - Reader Meets Captain Steve Rogers; Takes place directly after Captain America: The First Avenger in 2011

One Shot #2: The Beginning of a Family - Reader Meets the Avengers; Takes place during the first half of The Avengers in 2012

One Shot #3: Stars, Stripes, and Bubbles - Reader and Steve have some fun in the kitchen; Takes place right after Steve’s mission in the beginning of Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014

One Shot #4: Best Girls, Good Guys, Hand Art, Joy Rides - Reader Meets Sam Wilson; Takes place during Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014 before/during/after Sam’s VA session

One Shot #5: Reminiscing - Reader Learns about Bucky Barnes; A little out of order; Takes Place before CA: TWS, before Reader and Steve move to D.C., so before One Shot #3 and 4 (2012-2013 ish)

One Shot #6: No One Said Anything About a Metal Arm - Reader Unofficially Meets Bucky Barnes Or, More Accurately, The Winter Soldier; Takes place during the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014

One Shot #7: Revels - Reader Parties with the Avengers; Takes place during the Avengers: Age of Ultron Party Scene in 2015

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kestrel-of-herran · 2 years

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what are your thoughts on people saying that 2521 is problematic for portraying a relationship that began when heedo was a minor & yijin, an adult?

people should practice thinking sometimes. it helps a lot

i will try to be systematic here, so i'll present some points in list form. i've already addressed people's general idiocy in this post, so i'll try to keep things short because i don't want to waste energy fighting every person with a different opinion from mine.

a relationship is "problematic" as in "harmful" when there is lack of consent, or when the relationship is toxic for at least one party. hee do and yi jin did not participate in any sexual activity when she was 18 and he was 22, and they have never been toxic towards each other.

the show's entire focus is on how two people with a four-year age difference who meet at 18 and 22 can have a healthy romantic relationship eventually. the writing constantly brings the characters' differences and similarities into focus, both in terms of their age difference and in terms of their personalities. we see them develop their relationship through countless hours of talking, hanging out, providing each other emotional support, developing feelings. it takes eight entire episodes for one of the characters to really examine any sexual attraction they feel, and this character is the younger woman, who is also the person who takes every step towards crossing physical boundaries with the other. at no point is she taken advantage of for her lack of experience, her naivete, or her willingness to start a romantic relationship when she's 19. yi jin could have easily turned her head back then, but that's neither the person he is, nor the value he places in their relationship. the show emphasized emotional connection long before it even introduced physical attraction, and it's quite impressive to me that people still decided to feel bothered.

relationships with an age gap happen all the time in real life, and the role of art is to dramatize and discuss real life for its audience. the aim of this show is partly to demonstrate how such a relationship can occur in a healthy and natural manner, in which both parties are pursuing the well-being of the other. in this way, the show proves that a relationship with an age gap is not inherently exploitative, but can be anything both parties create with the way they treat each other.

the show has been vocal about the difficulty of defining such a relationship, and the characters have taken very careful steps to give names or actions to their feelings as they grow. in no instance has any romantic development been rushed or handled poorly. by the time the younger woman initiates a kiss, the age difference has become as irrelevant as it is between people in their twenties. if a first-year university student was dating a fourth-year student she's been close friends with for two years, would anyone find it "problematic"?

it's almost impossible to change someone's opinion if they're not willing to accept that they could be wrong. it makes me sad that such an incredibly-written show is still unable to inspire critical thought in some segments of its audience, because the majority of my points have been so clearly demonstrated in scenes that they must be visible from space. nevertheless, i'm persisting.

#combatting takes is so exhausting bc i know i'm mostly talking to a wall and these people stay in their echo chamber corners of the web #so i can't begin to care about their ignorance bc it's their issue to deal with #i'm only grateful to have this show and be able to really get it #thank you for the ask!!!#lilly gets an ask #twenty five twenty one #2521

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councilofelrond · 2 years

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Shireguard Chapter 8: Returning is up!

Word Count: 2019

Summary: Melkor gets in a fight when someone is condescending towards him. Tom Bombadil is annoying and offers some devastating news. The Hobbiton gardening contest gains two new judges. Sauron is not having a good day.

Tags: Implied death, mild violence, and a vague mention of breastfeeding.

Just silliness! There is some sad stuff, but mostly not.

Read on ao3!

#oof that took a while #sauron #melkor #angbang #shireguard au #the lord of the rings #fourth age idiocy #fics by lee

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darkpurpledawn · 4 years

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For @racketghost 's 13 days of Halloween, prompt "graveyard"

7:00

Agreed to take ‘graveyard shift’ at bookshop for the angel. Angel worried about unscrupulous collectors getting their covetous hands on his first quartos during his trip to Edinburgh. Probably third most adorable worry this year. Fourth, counting the badgers.

Promised to pull wriggling-maggots gambit on any would-be thieves, did not promise to refrain from eating leftover palmiers. Angel oddly concerned about ‘what the shop might get up to.’ Assured him working at night is nothing new, have a saying in Hell that ‘it’s always the graveyard shift somewhere.’ (Was inspiration for the signs about five o’clock, for which received award for Special Contributions in Intemperance.)

Angel left. Briefly brushed shoulders as he was putting on coat, i.e. life still unendurable disaster.

7:33

Should be preparing conference paper for annual Hell all-hands in Las Vegas, can’t be bothered. Intend to waste entire night watching tv humans make complicated desserts and posting misattributed Victorian quotations. Not going to ransack Aziraphale’s kitchen, doze off, or go looking in obscure cabinets.

8:15

Woke up as snake coiled around till amid palmier crumbs. Not good, not supposed to be sleeping. Weird dream in which dressed in white, waiting for a dog, angel had curly moustache. Moustache should not have been attractive, was. Bugger it all to Heaven.

Made tea in the angel’s atrocious kitchen, caused eviction of mouse family when retrieving kettle, probably instigated fall of mouse civilization. Kettle one of those disgusting 1950s flower-patterned nightmares, of course.

Checked email, heaps of bids for own illegal listings on eBay. Should be able to fulfill lust quota for month with posts selling purported toenails of celebrities. Played d*vil’s adv*cate on Twitter (not allowed to actually write that down or Office of Infernal Counsel will send a c&d for making overstated legal claims), started rumor that cauliflower is actually dehydrated human brains.

Heard shuffling sound. Should probably go check for quarto thieves.

8:30

Could not find source of shuffles anywhere. Looked in back room, nothing unusual. All ten zillion throw pillows angel insists on burdening sofa with appear to be in place.

Have had too many thoughts about that sofa. Picked up nearest bottle and went to kitchen to drown idiocy in several teacups of whiskey.

9:00

Got bored, started poking around. Found mildew stain that appears to be accurate map of Antarctica. Considered eating preserves noticed in back of cabinet, but unable to verify that it was made subsequent to Charlemagne’s accession. Briefly entertained notion of reading a book, came to senses and scrolled through 15 articles on phone about dogs that look like famous dictators.

Continued papery-sounding noises in the background. Would not be shocked if angel has white noise machine designed to sound like someone rifling through dictionary pages.

10:00

Got bored-er. Attempted to clean grime from windows experimentally and lost nerve about ten seconds in.

Peeked into bathroom on second floor (which have been unconditionally invited to use but have only entered once to vomit in after regrettable work event in fourth circle). Angel apparently hoarding soap from past three centuries, in least surprising development of modern age.

Washed hands to get rid of window gunk. Refrained heroically from sniffing any towels.

Heard whispering from downstairs. Neighbors? Cannot believe anyone is actually waiting around to steal first quartos from world’s unfriendliest-looking bookstore.

10:12

Finished whiskey. “Cauliflower Is Brains” trending on Twitter. Found own decades-old tie deep in sofa cushions, not that was examining these too closely.

10:50

In attempt to trace whispers, entered stacks. Began imagining scenarios in which unexpectedly holy book toppled and caused catastrophic injury. Do not want angel to return to smoldering pile of ex-demon on his unspeakably dusty floors. Also do not want to be smoldering pile of ex-demon, naturally.

Obtained gloves the angel uses for book repair from end table. Also took umbrella from its place hanging on hatstand and partially opened as defense against falling books. Probably looked like Edwardian wanker.

Proceeded with stack-examining. Organization system unclear. Slightly alarmed by discovering volume of Galen with recent takeaway receipts seemingly serving as bookmarks for easy reference. May explain why angel still refers to all colds as ‘excesses of phlegm.’

Too difficult to navigate narrow shelves with umbrella. Abandoned umbrella, substituted trilby hat for protection from falling sacred texts. Have never looked more ridiculous, very much including all of 17th Century and that time had snakebite piercings and mullet with short fringe.

11:21

FUCKASPIDERCRAWLEDONMYHANDFUCK

11:24

Can never go back to Hell, spider might be waiting there.

11:30

Well. That’s certainly interesting.

Section of one bookshelf protected by some kind of holy bond-of-secrecy-whatsit. Should have left alone. Could have broken it with hellfire, but am in most flammable location in known universe, decided that was terrible idea. Managed to undo holy bonds using profane combination of two parts own venom, one part hoarded soap spritzed through a salad mister.

So.

The angel has about two hundred books and fifteen scrolls concerning how to summon and bind demons. Thought at first maybe was for professional development. Too many. Angel has copy of the Big One, the one that can force a demon to do whatever summoner requests.

11:32

In fact, angel has all known copies.

Have only had it used twice before. Once some pissed aristocrat wanted to steal Love’s Labours Won, turned into whole thing. Second time group of students got very desperate trying to complete science fair project. Learned way too much about thermodynamics.

12:00

Theoretically should be extremely horrified that the angel has all extant copies of Big One and can summon and bind demons at any time.

Feeling am experiencing is...not horror.

12:15

Relevant pages in the Big One crossed out in indelible ink, ‘absolutely not’ written in weird cursive angel was using four hundred years ago. Impossible to see incantation.

Theorized why this might be throughout second bottle of whiskey. Enjoyed feelings of profound relief. Ignored feelings of vague disappointment.

Theory one: angel at one time planning to use Big One, decided not to. Reasonable theory, but does not explain why every copy is in this bookshop.

Theory two: angel bought every copy with the express intent of crossing out incantation so no one could completely control a demon ever again.

Unreasonable theory.

Will never mention any of this unless perhaps world ends. Probably not even then. What would that really change?

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #racket's 13 days of halloween #my fics

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Post-Moments

a ‘momentary’ follow-up ... of sorts ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2) Chapter 9: Post-Moments

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”

Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”

Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”

“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”

“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”

She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”

Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”

With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”

Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”

He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”

“Deal.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”

Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”

Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”

He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”

It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”

That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”

“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.

“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”

Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”

“Large?”

“The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”

Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”

“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”

“Lead the way.”

&&&&&&&&&&

His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.

But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.

Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”

For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”

“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”

Only Mulder.

Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.

He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.

They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”

Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”

Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.

What the hell.

Then again, he was licking his fingers.

The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”

She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”

He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”

“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”

Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&

If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.

Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”

The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”

Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”

Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.

Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.

But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.

Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.

Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.

Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your stance on third base?”

Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”

Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”

His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”

Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”

Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”

“Yes!”

Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.

Then she didn’t care.

At all.

Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.

Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”

It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”

“Was perfect to me.”

Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”

Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”

Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”

About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”

This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

“You just love my Rocky Road.”

“That, too.”

#msr #Our Moments series #cancer arc #My writing #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #x-files #they do have their moments #thanks for all the love #you've been a great audience :)

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thecatprince · 3 years

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Fighting Feelings

Read on AO3

Summary: After the whole callback fiasco, Roman decides he needs to prove himself in the only way he knows how - fighting for his honour. When he gets injured, Virgil is there to pick him up and comfort him.

Pairings: Prinxiety

Warnings: Graphic description of injuries, heavy Roman angst and implied suicidal ideation.

Word Count: 4219

Authors Notes: Post POF angst? in 2021? More likely than you think! This was inspired by two prompts that I received (thank you very much for sending them and sorry it took me ages to do them) which I combined. First prompt was “No, not again. Please!” from @underestimatemethatwillbefun and the second prompt was “Is it that hard to believe I love you?” from @autisticjuliaargent. I hope you like it!!

----

The first time Roman disappeared, Virgil didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t particularly unusual for Roman to disappear, as he was prone to heat of the moment ideas and impulsive decisions, which often involved long trips into the Imagination or hours spent holed up in his room. Sure, recent events had had an extremely negative impact on Roman, and sure, Virgil could tell that something had been off with him ever since, but he took Roman’s temporary disappearance as a positive thing, a sign that Roman was finally starting to get back on his feet, that he was starting to feel better mentally. Looking back, Virgil could’ve kicked himself.

The second time Roman disappeared, Virgil was a bit more alert. After Roman’s return from wherever he had been (the Imagination, presumably), he had seemed more off than normal, almost constantly becoming lost in thought and preoccupied. Granted, it was quite common for Roman to be distracted by his own mind, he was a ‘space cadet’ as Patton would often say, a ‘head in the clouds’ kind of person, but this… this was different.

Roman looked more worried, more concentrated and serious. His eyes, once bright and shining and full of light, now looked dull and bleak, as if all the life had been sucked right out of them. Roman’s face, normally quite happy and animated, now wore an expression of sadness and he had an almost permanent line on his forehead from the constant look of anxiety he had.

Of course, this shift in behaviour wasn’t exactly unexpected. After the turmoil of having Janus’ harsh, stinging words thrown at him and Patton’s good hearted, albeit incredibly misguided and confusing, attempt to prove how good of a person Thomas was, Virgil had found Roman sobbing in his room, his normal princely outfit thrown on the ground and his skin blue with bruises. Virgil had stayed with him that night, holding Roman close to his chest and letting him cry as much as he needed. He had eventually fallen asleep in Virgil’s arms, exhausted and broken, and Virgil had stayed there, torn between the overwhelming amount of concern and anxiety for Roman and the red-hot fury towards Janus and Patton that threatened to consume him. After much internal debate, he had decided that anger would just worsen the situation, and Roman needed him more than anything, so he stayed.

A week after his breakdown, Roman disappeared for the first time, returning a couple of hours later, looking physically unharmed, although he had a heavy expression on his face. A couple of days after that he disappeared again, this time for longer, almost a day, and when he returned he looked exhausted and his white prince shirt had a huge rip in the side. Virgil had asked about it, but Roman had just smiled and brushed it off. Virgil noticed the smile, like all the other smiles of late, didn’t reach his eyes.

The third time Roman disappeared, Virgil grew actively concerned. Roman had been gone for a day and a half, leaving in the early morning and returning at noon. Virgil couldn’t sleep that night, lying awake with worry as he waited for Roman to return. When he finally did come back, he seemed incredibly preoccupied, barely noticing his surroundings. Whenever Virgil talked to him, he seemed to immediately snap out of thought and the anxious expression he seemed to constantly have would be quickly replaced by a beaming smile, and just for a moment, Roman would seem like his normal self, his voice bright and dramatic, and his gestures wide and enthusiastic. But then Virgil would notice how his eyes stayed dull and empty, how his smile seemed that bit too bright, how his voice felt a little forced, and Virgil’s heart would sink, because he knew under the mask of theatrics and smiles, Roman was hurting.

The fourth time Roman disappeared, Virgil waited almost obsessively for him to come back. He sat outside the door to the Imagination for hours, staring intently at the clock on the wall, watching as the second hand made it way around the face as the minutes passed by. Virgil stayed there for hours, sitting crossed legged on the floor of the hall, fiddling with his hoodie and scrolling through his phone to try and distract himself from the overwhelming anxiety he was feeling. He must’ve fallen asleep at some point because he was suddenly awoken by the sound of the door opening. His muscles felt stiff from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in, and his brain was still quite foggy, but none of that mattered when he saw Roman walking through the door. Well, limping to be more exact.

Virgil stood up as fast as he could, ignoring how tired and sore his body was, and made his way over to Roman, just in time to catch him as he fainted. Virgil shifted his arms, trying to adjust the unconscious side as gently as possible so as to not to hurt Roman’s already obviously hurt body, trying to get him into a position that allowed Virgil to carry him. After a bit of a struggle (Roman had quite a solid build and was quite muscular from all the fighting he did in the Imagination (often in the name of defending his honour and other dramatic reasons) but Virgil was also quite strong (after all he was fight or flight) so while Roman was far from light, Virgil was still able to lift him) Virgil managed to carry Roman into the creative side’s room, which was opposite the entrance to the Imagination. Virgil gently lowered Roman onto his bed, lying him down in a way that meant that if Roman threw up, he wouldn’t choke and die.

Virgil stepped back to examine Roman’s body, assessing the damage. Roman’s clothes were torn and stained with blood and dirt, and through the rips in the material Virgil could see cuts and gashes littering the skin underneath. There was a large gash across Roman’s calf, where the pantleg was torn and covered in blood. Roman’s face was pale, except for the large bruise across his right cheek, which was an ugly bluish-blackish colour, and his forehead was shiny with sweat. Virgil gently lifted his hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Roman’s ear.

Roman’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around, slightly disorientated. Virgil kept watching him, studying Roman’s reaction. His eyes met Roman’s and for a brief moment Roman’s face seemed to relax a little, the corners of his lips tugging upwards ever so slightly, before his face quickly clouded over, as if remembering something alarming. He tried to sit up but immediately fell back down with a gasp of pain. Virgil, who had moved quickly to try and stop Roman from getting up, moved slowly back, arms still raised slightly as if on alert.

Roman looked back at Virgil, his face looking rather panicked. “Virgil,” he said, his voice almost inaudible. “Virgil, please, I… I have to go back. I have to defeat it.”

Virgil just stared at him in disbelief, part of him astounded by the pure idiocy of Roman, who just mere minutes before had been unconscious and was gravely injured, wanting to go back to the place where he had gotten those injuries, and the other part of him shattering because that was how little Roman cared about himself. Roman wanted to go back, most likely get himself killed in the state he was in, and for what? To defeat this thing (whatever ‘it’ was)? For a little victory?

“Roman, you can’t be serious! You literally fainted the moment you walked through that door and you want to go back? Have you seen the state you are in? You are going to get yourself killed!”

“You don’t get it,” Roman exclaimed, voice still hoarse and weak. “I need to.”

“No!”

“Virgil, please.”

“No, not again. Please!” Virgil was almost begging, his eyes starting to fill with tears. He couldn’t lose Roman, not now, not again. He’d spent hours, days, waiting and worrying and hoping with all his might that every time that Roman returned he would be okay. And this time Roman wasn’t. Virgil wasn’t going to risk losing him again.

Roman must’ve seen the look on Virgil’s face, because he didn’t attempt to move again. Virgil took a deep breath and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. He turned and walked into the ensuite bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and a first aid kit. Virgil gently moved the pillows around to help elevate Roman’s body into a sitting position and handed him the glass and a painkiller. Roman took a small sip and swallowed the medicine, feeling rather nauseous from the pain, and set it down on the bedside table. Virgil looked pointedly at him but said nothing as he began unbuttoning Roman’s shirt.

“Hey, wait – what are you doing?” Roman said hoarsely.

“I am unbuttoning your shirt,” Virgil explained, as though it was obvious (to be fair, it was obvious).

“Why?”

“So I can fix up your injuries. I didn’t bring a first aid kit for no reason.”

“I don’t need fixing up. I am perfectly fine!”

“Roman, you were unconscious less than 10 minutes ago, you are bleeding badly and you can barely move. I am going to fix up your injuries so you can stay alive. Let me do it.” Virgil’s tone was firm and strong, and he hoped Roman couldn’t hear the silent plea in his voice.

Roman sighed and settled further down onto the pillows, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument. He did want the pain to stop, as it was almost unbearable, but some smally stubborn part of him hated this weakness he was feeling. Still, he began to relax slightly as Virgil deftly unbuttoned his shirt and slowly peeled it off.

Virgil surveyed the bare chest in front of him, trying his best to focus on the injuries as opposed to the well-defined muscles. He knew logically that Roman worked out, and he had seen the outlines of those muscles underneath well fitted clothing, but this was completely different. Virgil dragged his attention from the muscles and tried to make a list of the various wounds that covered Roman’s torso. There were a plethora of small scratches covering his skin, especially around the hands and neck, as those were to most uncovered. His skin was varying shades of blue, black, purple and yellow, caused by the multitude of bruises in varying stages of healing. There was a deep cut along his left bicep, looking as though it had been caused by a claw of some sort, which was arguably the worst wound on his torso, although a close second would be the gash across his stomach, which was small and clean but had bled a lot. Virgil grabbed the wet wash clothe he had brought from the bathroom and gently started to wipe down Roman’s torso to remove any dirt and excess blood that was covering it. He tried to ignore Roman’s flinches as he went over his wounds, knowing that it was necessary for him to know what he was working with. Once that was done he dabbed the antiseptic cream onto any open cuts. This one evidently stung like hell, as Roman let out a sharp yell and grabbed Virgil’s shoulder tightly.

“Sorry,” Virgil murmured. Roman just shook his head gently and closed his eyes, indicating that it was okay. Virgil continued, putting bandages on any wounds that needed them.

“Where do you keep your t-shirts?” Virgil asked. Roman pointed to the top drawer of a chest in the corner of the room. Virgil made his way over, got one out and threw it at Roman, who picked it up and gingerly put it on.

Virgil made his way back to Roman, knowing he would have to deal with his legs next. “Is it ok if I cut off your pant leg?” he asked, not wanting to strip Roman of his pants (Roman’s bare chest was fine but this felt a little too intimate) but also wanting to be able of help clean up the large wound that was on Roman’s calf. Roman looked slightly horrified, but slowly nodded. Virgil got a pair of scissors from the pen holder on Roman’s desk and cut off the pant leg at the knee. He gently peeled the fabric off the leg, which was rather difficult given that the blood had caused it to stick to the skin. Eventually he had freed the leg, which left him in full view of the large wound that was on Roman’s leg. It was a rather jagged wound, evidently caused by something like a stick or rock (or claw, Virgil thought, remembering the cut on Roman’s shoulder) and Roman’s entire calf was covered in drying blood from it. Virgil once again wiped down the skin surrounding the cut to clean it, careful not to irritate the wound as much as he could, and he gently dabbed some antiseptic cream on it.

“What caused this?” Virgil asked apprehensively. He almost didn’t want to know the answer, but he felt like he needed to, and it would be good to at least know the reason why Roman had been disappearing so much.

Roman mumbled something inaudible, a look of guilt and slight fear returning to his face.

“What was that?”

“A…. manticore-chimera,” Roman murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that why you were going into the Imagination all those times? To fight a manticore-chimera?”

Roman nodded sheepishly, wincing sharply, although Virgil couldn’t tell whether that was due to the antiseptic cream that Virgil was now applying to the wound or in response to Virgil’s expression, which Virgil hoped masked how angry he was feeling.

How could Roman be so stupid, putting his life in danger like that to fight a bloody manticore-chimera? Was he trying to kill himself? Virgil had spent hours, days, making himself sick with worry over Roman’s disappearances, and all because he was fighting a bloody manticore-chimera! Did Roman even know how much he meant to him?

“Why would you do that?” Virgil tried to remain calm, but his anger must’ve shown because he noticed a couple of tears rolled down Roman’s cheeks, leaving tracks in the thin layer of dirt on his face. Roman took a deep breath.

“I just…. I thought…. I thought maybe if I could just prove myself, prove that I can be a hero and defeat the villain, then maybe…. maybe Thomas would consider me one again…..” Roman voice wavered and broke as he spoke, and tears continued to fall from his eyes, and he just looked so broken.

Virgil’s heart sank and his anger dissipated as he looked down at Roman. Virgil knew that the events that had happened had had a huge affect on Roman. He had spent many nights holding him as he cried, comforting him the best he could, trying to be there for him. He had tried day in a day out to prove to Roman that he was enough, more than enough, that he loved him, cared for him, more than anyone. Maybe he had failed. Maybe the damage had already been done. God, he was going to kill that snake!

Virgil drew his attention back to the wound on Roman’s leg, which he had been cleaning up while he talked, and began wrapping bandages around it, careful to put enough pressure where the padding was to stop any excess bleeding. Once this was done, he returned his attention to Roman, who was still crying, tears leaving tracks along his cheeks.

Virgil gently cupped Roman’s cheek, kneeling down next to the bed so he was more at eye level with him. “Roman, you don’t have to prove yourself. Trust me.”

Roman looked away, turning his head into Virgil’s palm in an attempt to move his face away from Virgil’s. Virgil’s heart almost snapped as Roman moved, knowing that Roman didn’t believe him.

“You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone Roman. You are enough as you are, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a complete idiot.”

Roman still didn’t turn to face Virgil.

“Roman, you know you’re my hero, right?” Virgil said, his voice gentle and quiet. Roman did turn his head at that, looking at Virgil with such broken hope, as if he desperately wanted this to be true, but couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Virgil tried to soften his expression as much as he could, trying his best to convey how genuine what he was saying was. He wanted Roman to believe it so badly it hurt.

“Roman, you’re the fire in Thomas eyes, the passion he has when he is doing something he loves, the drive he has to do it. You are the reason he gets up every day, the reason he made what he loves doing his job, because you pushed Thomas too. You are the spark that starts the fire, the wind in the sails, pushing us forward when I hold us back. You are that warmth and happiness you feel when performing or creating, the exhilaration of a new idea, the joy when people compliment creative work. You are the one who makes Thomas follow his dreams and achieve them, the one who always comes up with those clever nicknames and wordplay that make me smile, the one who allows Thomas to fall in love. You are the thrill of a new crush, the warmth of romantic love and the contentment of relationships. You love and care more deeply and truly than anyone I have ever, and while that may hurt sometimes, it is a beautiful thing to love like you do. Sure, you sometimes maybe go a little overboard with your passion and sometimes you mess up but when you make a mistake you apologise almost immediately, which is something I struggle with and really admire about you. You are the most brave, honourable, creative, loving person I know. Roman, you make us better - you make me better.”

Virgil’s voice was strong and gentle, conveying a level of emotion and genuineness that Roman was unprepared for. He wanted to believe what Virgil said was true, and on some levels he did, for it would take a very talented actor to lie so convincingly (Roman should know, he had had experience with ‘talented actors’), but some stupid little part of his brain was yelling at him that this was all a trick, that Virgil was just going to use him the same was Deceit had. Build him up only to tear him down.

Roman started crying, fully sobbing at this point. Virgil’s thumb gently rubbed his cheek, wiping away the falling tears. Virgil removed his hand for a moment and moved over to the other side of the bed, climbing on next to Roman. He wrapped his arm around Roman’s shoulders and pulled him as close as he could (being mindful of Roman’s various injuries). Roman curled up against Virgil, letting him hold him close, and sobbed into Virgil’s chest, soaking his shirt. Virgil didn’t mind though, as he simply moved his hand up and down Roman’s arm in a calming motion, allowing Roman to cry as long as he wanted. After several minutes, Roman finally calmed down and his tears stopped.

He looked up at Virgil almost guiltily. “You really mean what you said?”

Virgil nodded gently, heart breaking with the knowledge that Roman needed to double check. “Is it that hard to believe that I love you?”

Roman looked down and nodded almost imperceptibly, his head still pressed against Virgil’s chest. Virgil tightened his grip around Roman and his face into Roman’s hair. Roman took a deep, shaky breath.

“It’s just… ever since the events, ever since him… it is so much harder to believe good things about myself… or that people see good in me. I know logically that people love me, I mean they must, I’m me!” Roman said jokingly, a little bit of his normal self shining through. “But I have these insecurities, I’ve always had them, that just make it harder to truly believe it sometimes. And… ever since him, it seems almost impossible to believe that I am good, that I am worthy. He used me, flattered me, manipulated me, to get his way, and it hurt. It broke me. And I want to believe you so badly, I do, but my brain doesn’t, because believing and wanting hurt me so much last time…” Roman’s voice wavered and trailed off.

“I just thought…. that maybe if I fought something, if I acted like a hero should…. then maybe I could prove to Thomas, prove to him… prove to myself that I was a hero, that maybe I didn’t deserve everything that had happened, that maybe I was loveable. I feel like I have to prove that I really am what I am meant to be, this princely persona that I have built up, the hero I was always meant to be, because if I’m not a hero… if I’m not a prince… who am I?” Roman seemed to be talking to himself more than Virgil now, his voice becoming slightly quieter and breaking slightly as a couple of tears fell from his eyes.

“And I am just so sick of this endless game of torture I play with myself, so tired of this constant need to prove myself, so done with the stupid voices in my head picking me apart and pulling me down. I never feel like I am good enough for anything. My ideas aren’t original enough, my best isn’t good enough, I am wrong, I am broken and I just mess everything up… and I am so sick of being so fucking insecure…” Roman was openly crying now, his words punctuated by small sniffles and sobs. “Every offhand comment feels like a dagger to my heart, every single wrong look my way is magnified in my mind, everything is so personal, because being creativity you put your life and soul into your work, and when it is rejected, even the slightest bit, it feels like someone took your heart and smashed it into a thousand pieces. And I wanted it… so badly…”

Roman didn’t even need to say what ‘it’ was, Virgil already knew. The callback. The event. The thing Roman had been hoping and dreaming and wanting for as long as Virgil could remember.

“And he came along… and I wanted to do what was right, something I had messed up with you. I learnt from my mistake, I did the right thing, I was friendly and nice, and I tried so hard to not villainise him, I really did… but as always I made a mistake. I was wrong. I don’t know why I was even surprised…”

Virgil tightened his arm around Roman but didn’t say anything. He had heard snippets of this before, in the quiet nights where he had stayed with Roman while he sobbed the pain away, but this was the most he had heard Roman say about it in the longest time and he didn’t want to mess it up.

“I was so blind… I genuinely thought he liked me, that all those comments he made were genuine, until I realised… that everything he had said, every compliment, every nice word my way, was just another lie, that he never really thought those things… and to tell you that hurt was an understatement. It crushed me… crushed the life out of me… I tried so hard to do the right thing, I really did. I really tried…”

“All I ever wanted was to be a hero… all I ever did was want…”

Virgil gently stroked Roman’s arm as he cried the last of his tears. “It’s okay,” he murmured into Roman’s hair. “It’s okay.”

“Do you really love me, Virgil?” Roman mumbled, almost inaudibly.

“Roman, I love you more than I have loved anyone else. I care for you, so much. And if you don’t believe me now, that’s okay, because I am more than happy to spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to convince you that I care and that you are worthy of love.”

Roman moved his arms so that they were wrapped around Virgil’s torso and squeezed gently. “I love you too Virgil… so much… thank you.” The words were almost inaudible given that Roman had mumbled them into Virgil’s hoodie, but he still heard them and planted a small kiss on Roman’s forehead in response. Virgil was about to say something else when he heard small snores coming from Roman. He smiled gently, knowing that Roman was probably exhausted (he did faint earlier) and that he needed the sleep. Virgil adjusted his position so that he was lying down more, once again careful not to apply any pressure to Roman’s injuries, and wrapped his arms gently around the sleeping prince. He planted a kiss on Roman’s forehead and let himself drift off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that Roman was protected in his arms.

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#cat writes #prinxiety #roman angst #post pof roman angst #tw injuries #tw suicidal thoughts #angst #hurt/comfort

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